A Shot in the dark (Bagginshield)

Chapter Eleven

Óin had always considered himself a rather simple Dwarf.

He liked to fight, to eat, to read, and to sing. He didn't care for Elves, olives, or liars. He was loyal to his king first, his family second, and his friends and allies third. He believed that everything happened for a reason, and letting go of things you could not control. All in all, he was not very complicated.

This way of thinking—simple and practical—was why he liked their Hobbit burglar. Bilbo Baggins had made it very clear that his one desire was to see them all safely to Erebor. He had proved his intentions time and time again; from little things like allowing the younger ones to eat first during dinner, and to bigger things like protecting Fíli from the Orcs and trolls. Óin appreciated this blunt and honest wish.

The only thing about Bilbo that did make him wary was his lack of self-preservation.

He was deaf in one ear, yes, but he sure wasn't blind. He had seen how reckless the Hobbit was with his own life. He threw himself into battle without hesitation, didn't flinch to protect others with his own life, and even asked the others to put themselves before him. He seemed not to care whether he lived or died at all.

The Dwarf was sure he wasn't the only one who noticed. The wizard noticed and was concerned, and Dori definitely noticed because he was such a mother hen. He had a feeling even Thorin had recognized it but hadn't said anything because he didn't know how to deal with it. None of them had acted on their concerns though, which meant it was up to him to take care of their burglar.

Óin was a healer; it was in his nature to try to help others even when they didn't want it. Bilbo Baggins did not seem to care if he lived or died, but Óin did, and he was going to keep him alive no matter what they faced.

Even if Bilbo didn't want to be.

After all the hugging and weeping and the laughing came the task of recuperating. The Orc corpses made the area highly undesirable to stay in so they bundled everything that was still salvageable, and headed out to find a safer place to rest and heal. Gandalf led them through the dark forest while the others helped the wounded as they begun the task of walking down the mountain. Eventually they found a clearing that seemed relatively safe, and made camp for the second time that night.

Bilbo found himself a cozy corner where he had the perfect view of everyone and was still close enough to jump to their aid. There he made his bed and began to look over his own wounds and bruises. There weren't very many since he had been invisible and unnoticed for most of the battle, but he couldn't dodge everything in the fight. Thankfully most of them were minor and unimportant injuries so he was able to tend to them without going to Óin. Once he was done, he sat back and watched his companions. Óin was looking over Fíli, Nori, and Bofur as they had the most wounds. It actually looked rather difficult since none of them were interested in healing, but in recounting their tale of capture to the others.

"—then Nori stood up, looked it straight in the eye, and said: 'You call that a kick? Who trained you? Here, let me show you how it's done.' Then he knocked it off its feet with one leg sweep—all while still being tied up!" Fíli boasted between Kíli and Ori.

The Dwarves laughed and hooted while Nori shrugged and scratched at his swollen nose. "Well, it was a bad kick. Didn't even leave a bruise. Pathetic."

"They left enough marks," Dori pointed out from his side. He was attempting to get his brother to eat but was obviously failing as Nori kept pushing his hand away.

"True enough," Óin agreed as he hovered over Bofur. The toymaker had taken a hit to the head and the healer was attempting to wrap a clean cloth around the wound. "You three are lucky you got out alive at all."