"Duck!" Kili shouted, just before he sent his knife flying through the air. Azog listened, falling to the ground, and the shriek that was given off a moment later wasn't his – it belonged to the orc sneaking about in the foliage behind him.

The dwarf was too injured to stand and get him, but he didn't have to. The moment Azog recognized the threat, he was up and after them. In the next moment, he burst back into camp, dragging along an orc with him. The knife was stuck in their shoulder, certainly painful but not deadly.

"Well, well," Azog grinned, holding the orc aloft so that they hung in the air. "A spy. And a rather poor one."

"I was good enough you didn't hear me, huh, great Azog."

"Shut your mouth, woman."

"W – Woman?" Sputtering, Kili's stunned gaze went from one orc to another. "That's a woman?"

"Watch it, earth-fucker." The female orc replied. "I'll gut you soon as I get –"

"You'll do nothing." Azog told her, before dropping her to the ground. In the next instant, he was tossing healing supplies her way.

"You're helping her?" Kili spat. "Is helping your enemy your hobby or something?"

"Orcs are not my enemy."

"The Dark Lord wants you dead," The other orc spat.

"That makes him my enemy. Not my people."

My people. The words struck Kili's thoughts. The way it was said… it almost sounded like uncle. The power, the reverence, the hope… gaze narrowing, he examined Azog's face as he spoke.

"She's still a threat!"

"She's not a spy, or a warrior." Azog said as he sat down. "The apron gave that away. My guess, she got lost taking a piss and saw a campfire, stumbled up here in the dark and got too curious for her own good. I think we can handle her."

The orc's face turned a strange shade of purple. Was she… blushing?

"Well, fine." Kili sighed, falling back. It's on your head." Azog grunted, not seeming to care in the least.

Night was falling over the Shire. Bofur watched the sky turned red from his spot on the guard wall, his look darkening as it did. In the distance, on the horizon, he could see the campfires of the orc camps. Stopping just in sight of the enemy, resting for the night – taunting them. Bofur sighed.

"Hungry?"

He glanced up, surprised to see the companion approaching him was not one of his fellow dwarves, but the hobbit, Lobelia. In her hands was a plate and a drink, held out to him. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Sure there's enough to go around?"

"There is – for now." The woman replied as she took a seat by him. He nodded, diving in as he did.

"How're things?"

"The Thain, the Mayor, all those big important folks met and talked about what we should do." That had been a few hours ago, Bofur knew that much. He and his folk had been busy all afternoon instructing the hobbits on how best to defend themselves, building blockades, guard posts, and other necessities. The whole thing was centered around the entrance to the Great Smials, the home of the Took family.

"So, what'd they decide?"

"We can't escape." She told him. He'd known that much; the orcs were stronger and faster than the hobbits, they'd catch up to them before they could get far into the mountains. Even if they made it that far, there was no guarantee that the cities on the other side, Mithlond and Gondamon and others, would help them. "We're going to stay. The Great Smials are well protected, and they run for miles underground. They can't hold everyone, but…"

"They'll starve us out." Bofur replied dryly. "With how many hobbits are here, we won't last a week."

"The Bounders and Shirriffs are going to fight. Maybe if they see we aren't a helpless target after all, they'll give up?"

"Hmm. Maybe." He doubted it. Even if the hobbits did put up a fight, it would be nothing compared to orcs and goblins.

"Our chances…" Lobelia looked off at the horizon, the red sunset reflecting in her somber eyes. "They aren't good are they?"

Bofur's down expression was her answer. "No," He said. "They aren't."

"How do you stand it?" The woman muttered, wrapping her arms around her knees, putting her chin on top of them. "Just waiting for them to come… trapped and knowing you can't escape the darkness that's coming…"

"You just…" Sighing, Bofur lifted his gaze to the sky. "You have to have hope. No matter how dark it gets, no matter how impossible it seems. You have to believe things can get better. Because it's not over until it's over." He turned to look at her. "Dwarves, we believe that no matter what Mahal, our creator, is with us. His will is steel and his heart is iron. Nothing can destroy him – and his strength is in us. We won't fall without a fight."

"Hm." Lobelia smiled at that. "Hobbits have the Green Lady." Her eyes turned upwards. "She's kind and beautiful and smells of flowers. The summer and spring are her home. She brings us the rains that feed our crops, the sunlight that warms us. And in the dead of winter, when all is cold and dark, she reminds us with every sunrise, with each day that growers warmer and warmer, that spring will come again."

"Well, then," Bofur leaned forward, his look brightening. "We're not done for yet. Sunrise is still coming, isn't it?"

Meeting his gaze, the hobbit flushed, and gave a shy smile. "Yes, I suppose it is."

The spiders were pushing them further into the forest, cut off from the hobbit camp. It was all they could do to survive, attacking and running as they could. Dwalin stood between the bulk of the spiders and his kin, hammer hefted high to strike down any who came at him. But just as he took a moment to glance and take stock of his friends, one of them struck.

"Dwalin, down!"

He didn't hesitate – the dwarf fell to the ground just as three daggers flew through the air, straight into the beast's eyes. It gave an ungodly shriek as it fell away, cringing. Dwalin leapt to his feet with a grin, nodding in Nori's direction.

"Come on!" Behind them both, Dori was fighting another spider off, and waving them ahead. "There's a path this way!" With not a moment to lose, the two took off, Dwalin keeping Nori ahead of him, in his sights.

They had no choice but to flee, unable to return to camp, and unable to stay. Before long the place was swarming with spiders, too many to fight. The Old Forest had been their home for a long time, and they had the advantage in the creeping dark. It wasn't a fight the dwarves could win.

So they kept running, through the bitter dark, twigs snapping and crunching underfoot, darting and dodging through the underbrush. All around he could hear them skittering, almost like a high pitched laugh, and it creeped the shit out of him. Not like he'd let it show.

After a time the sounds abated, and the group slid to a halt. Dwalin immediately began counting heads, glad to see all were accounted for, including the little hobbit.

"Think we lost em?" Dori asked. He was leaning forward, hands on his knees, clearing exhausted.

"More like they gave up the chase for easier prey." Nori, on the other hand, barely looked winded. He'd had a long life of running from danger, hadn't he? He looked to Dwalin, and the older dwarf nodded.

"Not the hobbit camp?"

"No," Dwalin shook his head at Primula's worried question. "They won't go after such a big group, too big a risk. They'll wait for some fool to wander off alone." He saw Nori blush out of the corner of his eye, and almost smirked.

"Yeah, whatever," the thief grumbled. "I'd have been fine if you guys hadn't bumbled in and got in the way."

"You'd have been dead."

"What's it matter to you?" Steaming mad, the younger dwarf stormed up to Dwalin, having to lean back to meet his eyes at such an angle but in no way intimidated by the discrepancy in their heights. "Why the hell should you care?"

"Because, whether it's gotten through that thick skull," Dwalin accented this by two sharp pokes to the boy's forehead, "Or not, you are a member of this company, and I don't just stand idly by and send my kin to their deaths!" Then, ire somewhat abated, he leaned back and grumbled, "Not even the idiots that're asking for it."

By the dumbfounded look on Nori's face, the dwarf didn't know what to say in reply. Before he could return to his senses, his younger brother gave a cry.

"Come here! Look at this!"

The group, still wary of danger, quickly headed towards his voice, stumbling down a sloping hill to a more open area next to a small river. Beside that river was an old cart and buggy, clearly left to rust.

"This is hobbit make," Primula commented, stepping forward. "Looks old. Owners are probably long dead or gone."

"I wonder what happened." Ori muttered to himself, looking over the aged wood, upon which mold and moss was growing. The scholar in him had awoken at the sight of the half overturned buggy, the walls beginning to cave in, the letters on the side barely legible. "Bungo's Bakeries…" Wait a minute… "Wasn't Bungo Bilbo's father's name?"

Primula looked to where the dwarf was pointing, eyes going wide. "By the Green Lady, you're right." Astonished eyes glanced over the cart as she back away to take it in. "This was his cart."

"Then, this is where the spiders must've attacked them!" Ori gasped. Spinning round, he faced the whole group. "We might be able to find his remains after all!"

"Ori…" Dori gave a sigh, stepping towards his brother and placing comforting hands on his shoulders. "I don't think we have the time love."

"But we have to try!"

"Finding some old bones won't bring Bilbo's father back." Dwalin grunted, hefting his hammer onto his shoulder.

"No, but it could restore his honor!" That caught the dwarves' attentions; turning to Primula, Ori pleaded with her with his eyes. After a moment, she sighed, and spoke.

"Bungo Baggins was never found, alive or dead. There were those who thought his behavior was – unbecoming for a hobbit, and used his absence as an excuse to malign him, claiming…" She hesitated, giving a sigh before finishing. "Claiming that he did not die, but that he fled and left Bilbo to die to save himself."

The clearing erupted into angry and defensive shouting, to which Primula held up her hands. "Of course I don't think so! He was a good man, what I knew of him, and that's saying something given I grew up to take his son's hand in marriage."

Everything went quiet. It seemed even the trees were stunned by the proclamation.

"… you're married to Bilbo?" Ori mumbled.

"Heavens, no!" The woman laughed at the thought. "His half-brother, Drogo, is my husband. He was away when the orcs attacked, off to Hobbiton to tell Bilbo the good news."

"That news would be?" Dori asked, but by his tone and downward glance, he seemed to have an idea.

Primula beamed. "We're having a baby!"

Her words were barely out of her mouth before Dori turned upon his thieving brother, red in the face. "Wonderful! We're lost in a forest full of giant spiders with a pregnant hobbit, and it is entirely your fault!"

They kept moving, further into the forest, which only became darker and deeper the further they went. Whether they were headed towards Bree, the Shire, or who knew where, they didn't know. All their efforts to retrace their steps went for naught, as the forest kept shifting and changing, as if it wanted them to stay lost.

"I told you," Dori muttered for the fifth time, hands on his hips. "I told you, this place is evil. It doesn't like us. It's going to send us round in circles till we starve or run into the spiders, whichever happens first."

"Complaining about it won't help." Nori told him, shoving him with a shoulder as he walked by. The move infuriated his older brother, who stomped off after him in another tirade.

"Oh, I will complain as much as I like!"

"Are they always like this?"

Dwalin glanced to where Primula had walked up beside him. "Most days." He grumbled.

"Is this normal for dwarven families?"

The dwarf glanced at her askance. "Some." At her curious look, he sighed. "Dori is the eldest son of a powerful dwarven noble family. Nobles, they've got rules us common folk don't live by. Arranged marriages, chosen heirs, all that shit. From what I understand, Dori's mother broke some of the rules. She wasn't fond of her chosen husband, and found somebody else to better satisfy her."

Primula's eyes went wide. "A lover?"

"A few, as I've heard. Nori and Ori were born bastards, and the clan exiled them as babes."

Her mouthed dropped. "You can't be serious?"

"Sure am. Common practice among those higher up on the social ladder." It was clear by his tone he didn't approve. "Dori didn't know. Had a fit when he found out, and spent a good decade trying to find them both." Hefting his weapon higher, Dwalin continued. "They don't get on well, as Dori's used to getting his way and Nori spent most of his life in charge of himself."

With a sympathetic gaze, Primula looked to the two brothers ahead, still bickering. "I don't know." She smiled. "I think they get on well enough. They're both just so concerned about one another, and Ori, and certain they're right, that they can't help but butt heads." The smile became a grin. "Stubborn and hard headed, like any dwarves."

"Hn." Dwalin chuckled. "And you're as inquisitive and nosy as any hobbit."

The woman grinned. "Got me pegged!"

He returned to the world slowly, and then, all at once; reality hitting him hard, Bilbo sitting up with a gasp, wide eyed and chest heaving.

"Thorin!" Glancing around, the hobbit saw no sign of the dwarf, only the inside of his room at the inn. Wait a minute… hadn't he been… hopes dropping, he slumped. Had it only been a dream?

"You're awake."

Turning, Bilbo watched Strider step into the room. "You… you're alright!" He hopped to his feet, moving towards his friend. "You are, aren't you? And those people you helped?"

"He is just fine – as you have already seen." Strider smiled enigmatically. "It was, to my surprise, your friend Thorin I saved." Wait… "It wasn't a dream?" Bilbo whispered. His hands began to tremble at his sides. Strider nodded, happiness clear in his eyes. "… it wasn't a dream. It…" Suddenly frantic, Bilbo spun round, wild energy running through him. He ran his hands through his hair and started pacing the room. "Where is he? I'm going to throttle him!"

"I'm right here, hobbit."

Bilbo fell completely still. That voice… just as tremulous and powerful as he remembered. It had been the voice, after all, that had convinced him to help, that night he listened to the company singing their somber, heartfelt song. Thorin's deep timbre, more than any of the others, had drawn Bilbo in and entrapped him in their mad quest.

But it couldn't be. It couldn't be. "You're dead."

"I believe we had this conversation already. Though, if you'd like to have it again, I would prefer to speak to your face."

Finally, Bilbo spun round – and Thorin's weary smile, his dark eyes, his long wavy hair and broad shoulders, all there, all proof that this was real, that this was really him. "You… you… you let me think you were dead!"

"I certainly did not." Thorin snorted. "That came of your own foolish mind!"

"Foolish mind! Foolish, he says! And here I've been mourning the man for months! You – you – big grumbly hairy old –"

His voice was suddenly muffled in the leather clad shoulder of said grumbly, hairy dwarf, who was clutching Bilbo to him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. "Oh, Bilbo," The man laughed deeply, and it rumbled through him and shook Bilbo as he did. "It is so good to see you."

Stunned, Bilbo remained still for but a moment – before he burst into tears and clasped the dwarf to him just as tightly. "Thorin, you – don't you ever do that again!" That made the dwarf laugh, and through his tears, Bilbo chuckled a bit too.

Strider, standing off to the side, smiled. He was loathe to interrupt, but sadly had to. "If we'd like to leave with the army, we'd best be off."

Bilbo leaned away, and Thorin let him go. "Army?"

"While you were resting, I spoke to the master here on your behalf." Thorin explained. "Ered Luin has agreed to ride to the Shire's aid, and they leave tonight."

Bilbo spun round; outside the window, he could still see the moon shining. He hadn't been asleep long, then. "Do you think we'll be in time?" He whispered nervously. "Will they be okay?"

"If we march through the night, we should be there by midday tomorrow." Thorin told him, hand on his shoulder. "We can only hope it will be enough." Staring out at that cold, dismal moon, Bilbo nodded, his heart sunk into his chest. We can only hope...

Morning rose with a red sun, bathing the Shire in crimson. Oin and Gloin stood by the front gates to Tuckborough, axes by their sides, watching it rise with dark gazes.

"You sure about this, lad?" Gloin turned to the hobbit standing between them. Drogo Baggins had a dagger in his hands, some pieces of armor haphazardly forged the night before out of knick knacks and other things sitting upon his shoulders.

"Course I am." The hobbit insisted. "I won't just sit by and let them take our lands and our lives." He looked incredibly nervous, but the stumbling, bumbling hobbit from earlier was nowhere to be seen. "I'm to be a da, soon, you know. This'll be my child's home, and I'll protect it with my life!"

"A da?" Gloin chuckled, patting the hobbit on the shoulder hard enough that it shook the poor man head to foot. "Congratulations! It's quite an adventure, having a bairn of your own. I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"Does Bilbo know?" Oin turned to him.

"Um, no." Drogo shrugged. "That's why I came, I wanted to tell him myself."

"Bilbo's to be an uncle." Gloin chuckled. "Well, that's some good news, at least. Another reason to kick these creature's asses to Erebor and back."

At that, more than a few of those around them, dwarf and hobbit, gave bright, hopeful cheers. Deceivingly hopeful, in fact. Their chances were very slim, Gloin knew that. Still, he wasn't about to tell the wee folk gathered around him.

As the sun came fully over the horizon, he could see its light being distorted by a long black line, an army marching towards them all too fast. Gloin tightened his hand on his ax, and glanced at Drogo again.

"Stick to me, hobbit," He murmured, eying Drogo's nervous, shaking hold on the dagger. "We'll make sure you live to see your babe enter this world." With that, he looked back up to the approaching army.

It had begun.