Star-Crossed

Chapter 47

Bofur sat at the mouth of the cave during his watch, absentmindedly scraping the dirt from under his nails with the point of his pocket blade. Movement caught his eye and he turned his head to investigate. Their Hobbit had just finished rolling his bedroll and was packing his bag. As the Hobbit approached the entrance to the cave, walking stick in hand, Bofur confronted him.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bilbo jumped, spinning around and looking back at Bofur. 

"Back to Rivendell." He answered, trying to remain calm. 

"No, no, you can't turn back now; you're part of the Company. You're one of us." Bofur replied. 

"I'm not though, am I?" His voice raised just enough to wake Thorin. Beuren's sensitive ears also picked up the noise and her eyelashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. "Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right." She looked up from Thorin's shoulder at him. "I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins, and I don't know what I was thinking. I should never have run out my door." A mask of guilt fixed itself in Thorin's eyes.

"You're homesick; I understand." Bofur offered a small smile.

"No, you don't, you don't understand! None of you do - you're dwarves. You used to - to this life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere." Bilbo instantly regretted opening his mouth. What he'd said was cruel. Of course it was true, but it still was cruel. He mentally kicked himself for saying it. "I am sorry, I didn't..."

"No, you're right. We don't belong anywhere." Bofur's eyes scanned the Company, sorrow prominent on his features. "I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do." The dwarf said with a genuine smile as patted the Hobbit on the shoulder. Bilbo nodded, turning to head for the entrance. Bofur stopped him. "What's that?" A blue light was emanating from Bilbo's scabbard, silently drawing the blade, he shared a confused look with Bofur. 

Beuren's eyes grew. She'd spent enough time around Elvish weaponry to know what that glow meant: an enemy was near. There was a subtle sound of gears turning. Thorin shot straight up, hearing it too. A thin crack formed in the sand. He watched as another one veined off from it.
"Wake up, wake up!" Thorin boomed, everyone stirred but before any action could be taken, the floor shifted and the rock fell away. 

Being as agile as she was, Beuren twisted, hooking her fingers on the edge of one of the stone slates. After studying the makeshift hinges that connected the slates to the outlying walls they were cut from, she was able to tell they were of goblin make. Beuren stared down below her. A gaping hole opened, swallowing her companions. She hauled herself up clawing at the wall to pull herself to her feet. 

Pressing her front to the wall, she inched around the edge of the hole, making her way to the mouth of the cave. Once she made it, she was forced out into the storm again. It wasn't long before she regretted that decision too. 

Bilbo felt nothing more than an ache. How he hadn't died from the fall, he hadn't the slightest idea. From where he lay, he could see the goblin that had attacked him. Then, in the dim light from his sword, he saw another figure.