Warnings: miscarriage

Now:

Bilbo could not turn back now, even if she wanted to. The path the Company had taken across the high pass was gone. Not completely, of course, but chunks were missing now and new obstacles presented themselves thanks to the thunder battle that had taken place. The Company had sought shelter in the first cave they had found, cold, wet, and shaken.

Bofur tugged gently at her hand, guiding her across the cave to where Bifur and Bombur were settling in. Nearby, Fili and Kili had seemingly melded into one being. The brothers were clutching each other so tightly and with such desperation that Bilbo wasn't sure they would ever let go again.

Thorin stood solemnly at the entrance to the cave, his eyes seeking out each member of the Company in turn, again and again, as if unable to convince himself that they were all alive.

Bilbo was as shaken as the others, if not more so. She had nearly fallen to her death and had been saved at the very last second by Thorin. Her aching fingers and the stinging cuts that sliced through her palms were a nagging reminder of just how close she had come to dying.

She thought she wouldn't be able to sleep, but she managed to doze for a while with her head on Bombur's shoulder.

And then the world fell out from underneath her yet again.

.

When Bilbo regained consciousness, she knew something was wrong.

Of course, her friends had been captured by goblins and were quite possibly dead, and she had been separated from them. A lot of things had gone wrong more quickly than she could have imagined. But that was not what terrified Bilbo the most. Something was wrong with her, with her body.

Sharp pain radiated through her stomach and her entire body was wracked with chills. Her head ached, too. She must have hit it during the fall, she knew, but had no explanation for the other pains that plagued her.

Bilbo opened her eyes to find mostly darkness, but also a faint blue glow off to her side. It hurt to move, and the hobbit wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball until her aches and pains passed. But that was not an option. Bilbo pushed herself up carefully, hissing as the pain in her stomach and head intensified. Her hand found the hilt of her glowing Elvish sword and she leaned heavily on it as she tried to stand.

She took a moment to catalog her surroundings: the patch of mushrooms that had cushioned her landing, the bones that littered the floor around her, the surprising absence of the goblin that had fallen with her, a golden ring that glinted in the light of her sword (which she absently picked up and dropped into the pocket of her waistcoat), and the rhythmic thudding that was echoing through the cavern. Walking on silent hobbit feet toward the sound, Bilbo's keen ears detected a faint, strange voice. Her grip tightened around the hilt of the sword and she had to force herself to continue forward.

A moment later, she paused. The strange feeling permeating her body had intensified yet again, and she was now beginning to notice a wetness between her legs. She brought her sword a little closer to her body to see it better in the light. A dark stain was blooming in the seat of her trousers. Terror rang through her as she realized it was blood.

A sharp, agonizing sensation lanced through her stomach, forcing Bilbo to double over in pain. She moaned and clutched at her stomach.

"No no no no no no," she whispered desperately, forcing her body to uncurl slightly. She shook her head, hoping beyond all hope that she was mistaken.

But what else could the blood mean? Comprehension overwhelmed her, swift and vicious-

The child growing within her lived no longer.

Her free arm curled around the small bump of her stomach and she hunched in on herself again, trying to hold back a sob.

Suddenly, the blue glow that was her only light source flickered and faded.

"What is it, precious?" a rough voice called from just ahead of her, and Bilbo screamed in surprise. "Is it tasty? Is it scrumptious?"

"Get away from me," Bilbo demanded, unable to hide the fear in her shaking voice. She drew herself up to her full height despite the way the pain seemed to intensify. The trembling hand that cradled her stomach rose up to grip the sword. Perhaps if she held it with two hands it would cease it's quivering.

"Can we eats it, precious?"

The voice was closer now, and the hobbit desperately searched the darkness for the source. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark and now she could see a figure creeping forward over the rocks. It was shorter than she, especially hunched over as it was, and was horribly emaciated. It was wearing nothing more than a dingy cloth around its waist and huge bright eyes stared up at her through strands of sparse, matted hair.

For a long moment, the two simply stared at each other.

Then Bilbo began to scramble backwards, and the creature was spurred into movement. It sprang swiftly forward, the expression on it's face twisting into some terrible parody of a smile. Terrified, Bilbo raised the sword in her hands and thrust it toward the creature.

What seemed to be only a moment later, Bilbo found herself blinking down at the crumpled figure on the ground. Blood dripped from her sword.

The hobbit turned away from the body and was promptly violently ill.

Bilbo stood there, frozen to the spot, as time seemed to stand still. She could not bring herself to look at the body of the creature she had just killed. Her second murder of the day, her mind whispered treacherously. Her heart seemed to drop out of her chest and she could sense her breathing beginning to quicken.

She moved past the body, not sure where she was headed but certain that she couldn't linger in this horrid cavern.

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness as she picked her way carefully across the rocks, her sword held aloft in front of her in case she ran into another dangerous creature. Suddenly there was a splash and Bilbo gasped as chilly, slimy water submerged her foot. She scrambled backwards, clutching tightly to the rock she was on. She peered out across the stagnant pool of water and saw nothing. There was no movement and no noise aside from her own harsh breathing.

Bilbo took a deep breath in an effort to steady herself.

She took another breath. And another. And another.

Eventually, Bilbo roused herself from her stupor.

The blood. She needed to get rid of the blood. Bilbo toed her way back to the water's edge, then knelt. She began with her sword, cleaning it carefully. Then she set it aside and began to scrub at her hands.

She couldn't get them clean. Why wouldn't they come clean?

She scrubbed and scrubbed until her hands were raw. She was finally about to give up when she realized that her clothes were still covered in blood.

Off came her trousers. Bilbo worked furiously to remove the blood. The cool damp air against her bare legs and the rocks digging into her skin were motivation to work quickly.

Finally, Bilbo remembered that she must move on. Her eyes were finally adjusted to the darkness, but Bilbo still couldn't see whether or not her trousers had come clean. But it would have to be good enough for now. She slipped the wet clothing back on, shivering intensifying. Perhaps washing her clothes hadn't been her best idea? There was nothing to be done about it now, so sword clutched in one hand and the other extended in front of her so she wouldn't run into a wall, Bilbo began to walk.

It felt as though eyes were tracking her from the dark voids of the caverns and tunnels. Her heart was pounding. Paranoia consumed her. Had that shadow moved? Was there something else lurking in the dark? Another hungry creature who thought she might make a fine meal?

To distract herself and to break the silence, Bilbo began to sing under her breath, her voice wavering in and out, and sometimes not audible at all.

"... Misty Mountains cold... caverns old... must away ere break of day..."

She thought of her Dwarves, captured by goblins and most likely dead. Wherever they were, dead or not, Bilbo hoped she could join them. The emptiness of these mountain caverns unsettled her greatly.

At long last, the Hobbit stumbled out into the sunlight.

.

"You have much to answer for, old man!" Thorin's voice was loud and harsh to Bilbo's ears after spending so long in near silence. "You claimed Hobbits to be good and kindly beings even as you let this happen."

Bilbo stumbled forward through the trees.

Gandalf's voice was half placating, half puzzled, "I assure you I don't know to what you are referring. And I thought you were all beginning to like Bilbo?"

"Of course we do," said another voice, which Bilbo thought might be Fili's. She was growing closer now; the voices were becoming clearer. "It's the other Hobbits who are despicable."

"I -" Gandalf started, now sounding concerned, but Balin interrupted.

"This conversation can be continued later. Bilbo is missing and we must find her."

Bilbo stepped into the clearing which held the Company and stared blankly. There were thirteen Dwarves and a wizard before her, safe and sound. She tried to feel relief at this, but could not drag the feeling to the surface of her mind when it was so consumed by pain and despair. Bilbo wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and cease to exist, but she forced her mouth open anyway.

"I'm here," she said, voice barely a whisper. The Dwarves didn't hear it. Bilbo let her eyes fall closed for a moment and took a deep breath. Forcing her eyes back open, she said again, louder, "I'm here."

The Company startled and turned to look at her with a mixture of shock and relief.

"Bilbo!" Kili cried, rushing forward to embrace her. He wrapped his arms around her, chattering on about how worried we were about you and you wouldn't believe how fat the goblin king was and where did you disappear to? Bilbo never managed to convince her arms to return the embrace, and after a few moments, Kili pulled back, uncertain. His hands stayed on her shoulders and he looked at her carefully, growing more concerned with each passing moment. "Bilbo? Bilbo, are you alright?"

Bilbo continued to stare at the trees behind Kili, wondering numbly when the other Dwarves had come so close.

"Move, lad," Oin was saying as he pushed Kili aside. He looked her carefully up and down, his eyes coming to rest on the blood stains Bilbo had been unable to scrub from her trousers. He let out a vehement curse in the Dwarves' language.

"What is it?" Thorin demanded, moving forward. The rest of the Company obediently stepped aside to let him through. Thorin came close to Bilbo, but didn't touch her. "What has happened?"

Oin ignored him in favor of barking out orders. "I need a blanket or spare clothing. Something warm. Quickly, now. Give me a waterskin. There's a lad. Now move back, all of you. Give her some room to breathe."

A blanket fell across Bilbo's shoulders and Oin shook her gently to catch her attention.

"Sit down, Bilbo," he said and Bilbo obediently sunk down to the ground, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She shivered.

"Now," Oin began, but quickly fell silent along with the rest of the Dwarves.

A warg was howling, and it was too close for comfort.

"We must move," Gandalf urged, appearing suddenly to tug Bilbo to her feet. "Run."

Bilbo was unsteady on her feet, swaying slightly as the blanket slid from her shoulders. A single glance at her convinced Thorin that she was in no state to stand on her own, let alone run for her life. He quickly swept her up into his arms, clutching her tightly to his chest as he turned to follow Gandalf. The rest of the Dwarves followed quickly after, falling into a protective formation around their leader and the Hobbit.

Bilbo's hand clenched around a fistful of Thorin's tunic and squeezed her eyes shut.

.

Bilbo struggled against the numbness that threatened to overtake her, just as she had in the maze beneath the mountains. She could let the apathy back in as soon as it was safe to do so. Until then, something fierce and protective within her urged, help the Dwarves. Don't let them die.

With surprising ease, the Dwarves leapt up into the trees to escape the hungry mouths of wargs. Bilbo found herself being passed quickly from Thorin's arms to Bifur's as some of the Dwarves began to scale the trees. Once Thorin was safely ensconced in one, Bilbo was once again in his arms. The rest of the Dwarves quickly followed. All this happened without a word, and Bilbo took a moment to marvel at how effortless teamwork seemed to be for the Dwarves, even in an attack as unexpected as this one.

Perhaps Bilbo wasn't having as much success as she thought she was at staying aware because she blinked and there was a white orc astride a white warg standing beneath them.

"Azog." The name, laced with horror and fury, found her ear. Thorin's voice was quiet, something between a hiss and a growl, but it spoke volumes of the pain the Dwarf was experiencing.

Bilbo blinked again and fire was raining down on the orcs and wargs below them. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and refocused her attention. A few branches above her and Thorin, Gandalf was setting a pine cone alight with flames from his staff. To their right, Bofur was juggling his own blazing pine cone and using it to set more alight, passing each one to Ori, who lobbed them down to the ground with deadly accuracy. As Bilbo watched, he caused several wargs' fur to catch fire and the beasts writhed in panic, dislodging their orc riders.

For a few hopeful moments, it seemed that the Company was edging toward being on the offensive rather than on the defensive. But then their trees began to groan and creak. There was shouting and chaos.

Thorin yelled at her to grab hold of the tree and did the same himself as the world tipped sideways.

Bilbo clung to the tree for dear life, gulping as she stared down into the dark expanse below. Debris from the tree showered down off the cliff, disappearing into the darkness long before it hit the ground. She had already fallen once this night, and had survived through some miracle. Bilbo knew that, miracle or no, there was no conceivable way for her to survive this fall.

Behind her, where she could not see, there was a sharp cry of terror. Bilbo could do nothing but wrap her limbs around the tree and pray that both she and the others would be okay.

In front of her now, she saw Thorin rise up. He had his sword in hand and some sort of shield in his other. His shoulders were set rigidly and he stalked across the tree trunk, not sparing a glance for any of his Company as far as she could tell. Dwalin was shouting furiously at Thorin.

As soon as his feet touched solid ground, Thorin began to run with a fierce battle cry. Before him, the white orc smirked.

Bilbo could hardly look away as Thorin was knocked to the ground. About the time that he was being used as a warg's chew toy, Bilbo was scrambling onto the tree trunk and surging forward. Through everything, she had somehow managed to keep hold of her sword and she was determined to put it to good use.

An orc took position over Thorin, weapon poised to separate the Dwarf's head from his body, and Bilbo flung herself at it. The element of surprise was on her side and she stabbed viciously with her sword, just barely keeping her grip. The body beneath her was no longer moving, so Bilbo hoped it was dead. She scrambled backward and positioned herself firmly between the Dwarven king and the white orc.

Perhaps if she could protect him for a few moments, the other Dwarves would have a chance to… save themselves? Come to Thorin's rescue? Bilbo wasn't sure what she expected to happen, but she was prepared to fight to the death for her friend.

Thorin had been so kind to her when she'd discovered her pregnancy and had not hesitated to comfort her, even though his displays of affection were typically few and far between (and usually reserved only for his nephews). He had given her the power to choose how to proceed and had treated her well. Already, he had saved her life more than once. Bilbo felt as though she could never repay him this kindness, but in this moment she would try.

The white orc stalked forward, it's face twisted with fury and snarling in the dark speech of orcs that made her skin crawl. Bilbo eyed his mace warily, waiting for him to strike and wondering if she had any hope of defending herself.

Without warning, Bilbo was screaming. The pain in her abdomen was unbearable, crippling. It brought her to her knees. For a moment, she thought she had been stabbed but, looking down, there was no wound and no weapon.

There was a flurry of movement around her. The Dwarves had rallied. Bilbo forced herself back to her feet, ignoring the pain as best she could, and stood between Thorin and the orcs.

A loud screech tore through the air, audible even over the war cries of the Dwarves, the clang of metal against metal, and the roar of the growing fire. The next second, a giant eagle that somehow surpassed the wargs in size plucked an orc from the ground as if it were nothing more than a field mouse and tossed it over the side of the cliff.

Bilbo blinked in surprise.

Another massive eagle swooped in and snatched Bofur from the fight. Bilbo followed its path with her eyes, horrified. But the eagle didn't drop Bofur and in the distance she could see a figure - Ori, perhaps? - perched on the back of another.

Talons wrapped around her arms and the ground disappeared from beneath her feet. The eagle let go and Bilbo shrieked as she fell. The landing was not bad and the feathers were soft but Bilbo hoped she would not have to repeat the experience. She would be quite happy to never ever fall again.