Dearest Bilbo

Chapter Fourteen

The door made a loud bang as Bilbo threw it back against the stone wall, but he made sure his angry shout was even louder.

"I don't even know why I came here! Did you honestly believe a few flowery words would be enough to convince me to forgive you for what you've done? If so, then you're a bigger fool than I took you for!"

Bilbo's rant had drawn several curious dwarves into the area, and he was relieved to find two of them were the reason behind this entire charade. Only Balin was curious and brave enough to confront him.

"Bilbo, what's the matter? Are you and Thorin having difficulties?"

"You could say that," Bilbo told him fiercely, "although it's really none of your damn business."

He pushed past Balin and marched on, leaving mouths gaped open and eyes widened with shock in his wake.

"What's going on?" Bofur was the one who came running up next and although Bilbo had always trusted this dwarf more than most of the others and considered him a friend, he couldn't risk letting him in on his and Thorin's secret. Not yet.

"Ask your King," Bilbo spat out vehemently before walking away.

"Bilbo?"

Bofur's grip was on his arm and an equally powerful one seized his stomach. By the power of Yavanna, he could do this, although it was going to be more difficult than he had imagined!

"I don't want to talk about it, I'm sorry."

Disappointment radiated off Bofur and forced Bilbo to leave quickly. He had to find some privacy before he emptied his stomach of its last meal in front of everyone.

Finally, after discovering a hallway not so well lit and away from the main area, he stopped, bent over at the waist, and fought for air and an ounce of serenity.

What had he been thinking? What a horrible idea this was! And it had been his! Of course, it had been! Thorin had been hesitant, but he had insisted. What was wrong with him?

Within a few minutes, after he'd caught his breath and regained control of his heart rate, a thundering voice echoed down the hallway. The words struck him as painfully as arrows shooting through his heart would.

"Do not speak to me of the halfing! I do not want to hear his name uttered again within these halls!"

It was a long time before Bilbo came out from the darkness. Most of the dwarves had retired to their own quarters before he realized he actually hadn't been assigned any place to stay.

Slowly, he made his way back to the gate where all of his things had been unloaded from the wagon and set to the side. The wagon and the pony were nowhere to be seen. A couple of guards whom he did not know smiled at him sympathetically, but he avoided looking them in the eye. He grabbed his duffel that held what he needed the most and crept quietly away.

It was Ori who found him a little later huddled in a corner of the library. Being around books had always been a comfort to Bilbo ever since he was young. He loved their smell, the texture of their bindings, and the organization of the words on the pages.

Ori was the youngest of three brothers and had a sweet temperament. He knelt down next to Bilbo and sighed. "Come, Mister Baggins. You can stay in my room. I have two cots there and you are more than welcome to use one of them."

He would accept the kind offer if it wasn't for the fact he'd told Thorin he'd return at midnight. There were chimes within Erebor that marked the hour and he hadn't heard them yet, but he hadn't exactly been listening for them either. He needed to start. He didn't want Thorin to worry if he was late. This was already hard enough.

"Thanks Ori, but I'm not really wanting company right now if you don't mind. I'll just stay here. I have my pack and my bedroll. I'll be fine."

Ori was too kind of a dwarf to ask questions and Bilbo was glad. He had no doubt that by morning, there would be plenty of them -- if in fact, they managed to get through the night without getting caught or gathering suspicion.

The young dwarf excused himself after assuring Bilbo he was welcome if he changed his mind. Not long after, the halls once more grew quiet and all footfalls receded. He had sometimes wondered if the workload in Erebor was so great that the dwarves labored throughout the night. Apparently, that wasn't so. The city was eerily quiet.

Since at least one dwarf knew where he had planned to spend the night, Bilbo tried to make it look like he actually had. He spread out his bed, threw around a few blankets, took a cushion off one of the chairs to use as a pillow, and rolled around on it a few times to look as if it had been slept on.

And then he heard a chime. He had one hour before he rejoined Thorin in his suite, and he decided to spend that time resting and maybe reading.

The lamp on the far table had been left burning, and Bilbo grabbed it to search the shelved texts for something not written in Khuzdul. Eventually, he discovered a volume titled an Overview of Dwarven Gemology. It wasn't exactly what he would normally read, but it was better than nothing.

Bilbo took the lamp back to his mat, sat down, and leaned back against the wall. He set the lamp to the side and opened the text. Chapter One: Pleochrism. The subject matter was beyond Bilbo's scope of understanding and was written from a gemologist's point of view, which made it even more intellectually dull. At least for him.

Before finishing one paragraph, he had closed the book and leaned his head back. This was the first time since his arrival that he had relaxed. What he had been doing with Thorin earlier hadn't been exactly what one would call relaxing. Thorin always made his heart race, which wasn't conducive to relaxation. Just the thought of Thorin brought forth the memories of their shared kiss and the king's caresses. Bilbo sighed and closed his eyes. He would sit here just for a minute. Only a minute...

The next thing Bilbo was aware of was Ori standing over him, holding a bowl of something steaming.

"It's Tuesday," the dwarf announced, smiling down at him. "There's a chamber pot in the room two doors down if you need it, and I've brought you porridge. We have porridge on Tuesdays."

"Ah," Bilbo said groggily, accepting the bowl, only to set it immediately aside before it scalded his hands.

"How did you sleep?"

His neck was as nearly sore as his back, which was saying something after a week of being on the road, but he wasn't going to admit that to Ori.

"Fine," Bilbo replied. "I actually slept..."

And then he remembered. He wasn't fine! He wasn't supposed to be sleeping in here at all! Thorin! How could he forget about Thorin?

"What time is it?" Bilbo asked while trying to disguise his panic.

"The last chimes were seven," Ori told him. "I thought I'd wake you before the hammering begins. I think they're working in the throne room today."

Ori was saying something about the extent of damage around the throne and the walkway, but Bilbo wasn't really paying that much attention. He had other concerns. Such as, how could he get word to Thorin without someone seeing him? If he tried and failed or was caught by either Dwalin or Balin, it would be over with and all their planning would be for naught!

"Are you sure you're all right?" Ori asked, apparently observing Bilbo's rather frantic expression.

"Yes, of course," he covered with a forced smile.

"I'll speak with Balin today about offering you someplace to sleep, although from what I've heard, you may wish to return home. I don't know what you said to him, but I haven't heard the king raise his voice like that since... well, since King Thranduil's last visit over a month ago."

"It was just a misunderstanding," Bilbo tried to convince the dwarf. "Everything will be okay."

Ori didn't look like he believed him, but then Ori was the least of his worries. Somehow, Bilbo had to let Thorin know why he hadn't returned as he'd promised and he had no idea how to do that.