A Shot in the dark (Bagginshield)

Chapter Nine

Kíli was not stupid.

He knew that, between him and Fíli, his older brother had won all the brains. He was the one who always had his nose in the books when they were younger; and he was the one who Thorin always discussed strategies and history and politics with. For a long time it had bothered Kíli that his uncle never wanted to speak about such things with him. But, just like his odd appearance, he had grown to accept it. In time he even began to realize that, while Thorin never spoke to him about court traditions, he did tell him stories of his youth and the different jobs he took on and lands he had seen, and Kíli was content with that.

But the point was that he was not stupid. Fíli was smarter than him, yes, and while it was true that he could be oblivious to some things, Kíli did not believe he was stupid.

He just didn't like to think.

Honestly, he believed that thinking was silly and a waste of his time. He had grown up listening to Fíli always question everything around them from how babes were made to why a flower smelt sweet. His brother could never be content with things being just the way they were. He always had to know everything about it.

Kíli didn't get it. Did it really matter why a flower smelt sweet? Was it not enough that it simply did? And why would he care how a babe came into the world? Was it not enough that they existed and made the world better? Honestly, he didn't care about questions or answers because he was too busy enjoying the way a flower smelt, and how soft a babe was.

Sometimes he couldn't help but think that his brother, in his constant need to understand everything, was missing out on the point of it altogether.

It was the same way with Bilbo.

Kíli knew—because he was not stupid, thank you—that most of their Company found the Hobbit a bit strange. He was a bit too friendly, a bit too brave, and a bit too eager to help them. This was not normal behavior, and it made them suspicious and mistrustful.

But Kíli didn't care. He liked Mister Baggins and his funny smiles and dry comments. He was willing to give him a chance even if his uncle didn't want to. He was willing to overlook all the suspicion, and would simply enjoy spending time with the Hobbit and the rest of their comrades.

Because Kíli was not stupid and he knew that sometimes, just sometimes, you had to trust your heart over your mind.

Bilbo could not breathe.

He literally could not catch his breath. It was as if someone had sucked all the air out of his chest, and left him gasping for breath. He actually began to feel lightheaded and had to lean against the mountain in order not to collapse.

In the distance, over the rain and thunder and clash of stone flesh, he thought he could hear a scream. It was piercing and high and it took him longer than normal to realize that it was Kíli. Forcing himself to look away from where the Dwarfs had disappeared—Fíli, Dwalin, Bofur, Nori, oh no, nononono—he found that the rest of the Company were safe on the other side, and staring on with horror.

His eyes first singled out Dori holding Ori to his chest with a desperate grip; shielding his brother's eyes and shaking his head as if in denial. Behind them he could make out the figures of Bombur and Bifur; the cook holding his cousin back as the other tried to make his way to the edge. Finally he spotted Kíli, who was screaming for his brother and also being forcibly held back by Glóin and Thorin. When the king met his eyes, Bilbo quickly looked away; unable to face what he knew would be written in those blue eyes.