Comes Around Again (Gigolas & Bagginshield)

Eagles Ex Machina

"You're a brave lad, make no mistake," Balin said. "And quiet! I wish you'd tell us how you got past the goblins. It's the first time any have gone under my nose without my notice, and I take off my hood to you." Balin sketched a short bow, even as Kíli and Fíli both sent him a look, sharing just how familiar they were with Balin's keen attention.

"Oh, very well," Bilbo said, and proceeded to tell them all of what had befallen him once he had been tackled from the goblin platform. Gimli listened in ever growing wonder: Bilbo really was a first-rate storyteller, and from the look in his eye, he knew it, too. It was good to see a bit of pride return to their hobbit; he had been so down since their journey began.

Still, Gimli crossed his arms and knew he was listening to history: the first of many times that Bilbo would tell his story, though not the first time Gimli had heard it from the hobbit's own mouth. That honor belonged to a different time, in Rivendell, when Glóin had taken them to Bilbo's quarters to visit just after Elrond's council. Then, unlike now, Bilbo had given the whole truth of it, his gaze turning inward and his words slowing as he confessed, at long last, the real contents of his pockets.

"Oh, what a silly thing I was," Bilbo had said, voice trembling. "If I hadn't--If--oh, Frodo!" He had covered his face with his hands and wept, and without a word, Glóin--creaky, cranky, old Glóin--had wrapped his old friend in his arms and held him though his sorrow.

There were no tears now, not even a gambler's twitch to reveal the omissions from Bilbo's tale. Bilbo looked too proud of himself... Gimli felt vaguely ill. The Ring's powers were insidious, indeed.

"What did I tell you?" Gandalf said, laughing at Bilbo's triumphant conclusion. "Mr. Baggins has more about him than you guess." He gave Bilbo a queer look, then, from under his bushy eyebrows, and Gimli saw Bilbo pale and twitch like a man spent too long on poppy-juice before shaking it off.

The moon was just a crescent over the trees when Gimli heard the first howl. Ahead of him, Bilbo froze solid, growing pale. "Wolves," he whispered, but Gimli knew. These were no wolves, these were dread wargs of Gundabad, foul twisted things aligned with the dark forces of this world.

Thorin looked to him, concerned, but there was no time to ask—the howls were far too loud, the wargs far too close.

"Run for the trees!" Thorin cried, pulling Orcrist from its sheath. Dori grabbed Ori with one hand and Bilbo with the other and pulled them both along behind him. Gimli pulled his own axe, remembering another night with another quest, killing wolves by the first flush of darkness.

Fíli and Kíli were the first to the trees, swinging up into the lower branches. Kíli climbed further, readying his bow, and Fíli turned to help the others up.

Gimli reached the base of a large fir, and turned to hold his position. Glóin was right after him, and together they hoisted Óin up into the tree. Óin turned and helped Glóin climb, so that together they could lift Gimli. Before they could grab him, however, the wargs were on them.

Gimli turned, and just in time as the warg's jaws snapped on the empty air where his head had been. Gimli dispatched the beast with a swift stroke. In his place, there came another, and another, and it seemed that with each swing, Gimli killed a warg only to face another, and another.

In the tree, Glóin was calling his name, but Gimli couldn't let his focus waver.

The next warg fell before him, an arrow in his eye, and Gimli turned to cheer on Legolas, but it was Kíli in his tree, slinging arrow after arrow his way to give him space. Two hands grabbed the back of Gimli's coat, and he found himself lifted into the tree by his father and uncle.