She dreams of Golden Hope

Beloved Dust

"And you as well must die, belovèd dust, and all your beauty stand you in no stead; this flawless, vital hand, this perfect head, this body of flame and steel, before the gust of Death, or under his autumnal frost, I shall be as any leaf, be no less dead than the first leaf that fell,this wonder fled, altered, estranged, disintegrated, lost. Nor shall my love avail you in your hour. In spite of all my love, you will arise upon that day and wander down the air obscurely as the unattended flower, it mattering not how beautiful you were, or how belovèd above all else that dies."-And you as well must die beloved dust, Edna Mallay

Bilbo ran.

He ran from certain doom, as he heard the tormented and vicious howls of the Wargs coming ever closer. He ran as the sky above him turned from a warm, orange hue to a cold, bereaved shade of blue as night descended around them. He ran over the forest floor, covered with dying leaves, as autumn approached. He ran over the uneven surface of the woods' floor and jumped down from large boulders, as he ran away from the Wargs that chased them and towards what he hoped was safety. He ran with quick and nimble steps and he felt his arms grow numb with the exertion, he was gripping the handle of his sword with. The speed of his steps only increased, as he recalled the Orcs chase they had partaken in, just before they arrived in Rivendell and he recalled the vicious, gnarling, bloodstained teeth of the creatures, their lolling tongues and their poisonous yellow eyes, which shone with malignance. He ran as he heard the snarling of the beasts and their constant howling, which was becoming almost taunting in its nature for Bilbo. He ran and he refused to look back, lest he become petrified with fear at the proximity of the Wargs, which as it increased made him feel a tingle down his spine. He kept running, even as he felt the treacherous sense of exhaustion creeping into his limbs, because he knew what fate awaited him, if he did not continue running. He knew what awaited him if he stopped, as gruesome images of bloodshed ran through his mind, as he made his way away from the Wargs. He ran alongside the dwarves and his cousin, as he heard her nimble and their heavy steps on the forest floor and he could practically feel the fear and resentment radiating from each individual.

He was just running around a large, rocky elevation when he felt a current of air above him, signaling that something or someone had just jumped off the elevation above him. He did not have enough to ponder on what it had been, when he came face to face with the bloodshot, yellow, malicious eyes of a Warg, who snarled triumphantly and hungrily at him. He saw the creature crouch in preparation to pounce at him and tear him to pieces and instinctively, Bilbo pulled out the sword that Gandalf had bequeathed him raised it, just as the creature advanced on him and he was forced backwards, as the creature's eyes were impaled upon his sword and he was forced backwards into a tree at the impact. He let out an 'oomph' as his back collided harshly with the unforgiving bark of the tree and the air was forced out of his lungs at the impact. With shock, he watched as the creature gave a pained growl and collapsed onto the floor and remained still. Deathly still. He felt his jaw slacken and cold disbelief seeped through his bones. He had just... for the first time killed someone, something. He had not made a habit of accompanying the hobbits in the autumn season to hunt in the woods, much preferring to remain sitting in his warm armchair before his warming hearth and to purchase the bounty of others. He had not cared to go out into the cold and spend hours looking and hunting for animals, truly he did not believe that he was skilled enough to be a good hunter. He had never killed a creature until now and within the sense of guilt at having killed even this heinous monster and another emotion battled. An emotion that was empowering, that made him feel invincible and like he had a distinctive advantage over others. An feeling that he had gotten, when he had first slipped on the ring in Gollum's cave, beneath goblin town and he had realized that the ring gave him the power of being invisible. He looked on in shock at the Warg, who was now completely still after his limbs having twitched, and he acutely felt the conflict between this elating sense of victory and gnarling guilt.