Blood Runs Thicker

Chapter 1:

The bees were abuzz as they bumbled nonchalantly from flower to flower. Starlings and thrushes flitted in and out of the trees that surrounded the beautiful scenery. Rabbits and other fluffy creatures darted in and out of holes hidden underneath brilliantly painted foliage. There were swaying pansies, flirting periwinkles; twinkling morning stars and roaring dandelions. This was Hillington Meadow; a charming little place marking the middle point between Bree and the Shire.

Why is this place so important, you may ask? Well, my dear readers, this is where our story begins. A story of a little hobbit who made possible the biggest mistake of his life and turned it into the best thing that ever happened to him.

Belladonna Took Baggins walked hand-in-hand with her husband Bungo Baggins and their five year old son Bilbo. Bungo had decided to take his family on holiday at Hillington Meadow in celebration of spring. To the gentle hobbit, this spring had been the finest he'd yet to experience and he'd just been itching to go and enjoy the crisp beautiful weather. Of course Belladonna had been dying to come to the Meadow for an entirely different reason. While her husband wanted the weather, she wanted the freedom. Ever since their son had been born, Belladonna had not been on any adventures—for good reason too—and as much as she loved her family, Belladonna hand longed to leave the Shire for a little bit. So she had practically clobbered Bungo in her excitement at the news of a holiday.

And Bilbo, wherever his parents wandered, he always came too.

Speaking of the little tike, he pulled away from his mohter's grasp at the sight of the meadow. With an excited little squeal, Bilbo ran towards the flowers with quick feet and all smiles Belladonna and Bungo sighed contentedly and shucked off their traveling packs. Oh, yes, they were going camping.

Although Bungo was a respectable hobbit in every aspect, he felt that it was necessary for his son to get the experience. After all he was a Took as well as a Baggins. As much as the other Baggins in his family hated to admit it—Bilbo needed the influence of both his families to be complete. Belladonna certainly didn't want her little explorer to forget the ways of adventure, and Bungo didn't want his boy to forget that he needed to be polite and prompt like every other Baggins before him.

"Papa! Papa, look what I found!" the little hobbit shouted.

Both Bungo and Belladonna looked up to see their over exuberant son trundling back to them. Bungo walked up to his child, bare feet molding against the dirt ground perfectly, and crouched down when he reached Bilbo.

"What'dya find lad?" He grinned.

Bilbo opened his cupped hands to reveal a small, round, baby blue rock.

Except it wasn't a rock.

"Hm," Bungo drawled slowly. "Where'dya find this Bilbo?"

"By the tree!" He cheeped out happily while pointing to said tree.

Bungo grabbed his son's hand and began to walk.

"Where we goin' Papa?" Bilbo asked, his tiny brow furrowing in confusion.

"What'dya think you're holdin'?" His father asked.

"A rock."

"It's not a rock."

"S'not?"

"No."

Bilbo was quiet for a second, a small glint of panic crossing his normally merry features. "What's it?"

"An egg."

Bilbo seemed to jump out of his breeches. "An egg? Like a birdy's egg?"

Bungo chuckled. "Yes laddie, like a birdy's."

"Oh." The five year old bit his lip and looked guiltily at anything but his father; he still clutched the egg as if it were a precious jewel.

"Don't worry Bilbo," Bungo said, trying to wipe the perfectly heart breaking look from his son. "You didn't know any better. We'll return the egg to its momma's nest before your Mama calls us for supper."

Bilbo nodded.

Once they got to the tree, Bungo realized that the tree was not as short as he thought it was. In fact, the nest—it was clearly visible in a safe crook of a branch—was way up off the ground.

"Well…" the father sighed, looking up at the tree and back down at his feet. He pointed to the tree, then himself, and then the overgrown plant. Well this is problematic, he thought.

A crystalline laugh came up from behind them. Both father and son turned around to see brown haired Belladonna laughing their ears off.

"You haven't even climbed the tree yet and you're thinking of quitting!"

Bungo's ears turned red. "S'not true! I was just…checkin' the distance, that's all. I don' wanna accidently slip and break something."

Belladonna rolled her eyes and strolled up to them coolly. She reached out her hand as she crouched down to Bilbo's height. She gave him her best smile.

"Come on now sweetie, give Mama the egg."

Bilbo plopped the pale blue egg in her hand without hesitation. Belladonna shot Bungo a smug playful look before bounding up to the truck of the tree. As easily as it might have been climbing up a hill, she scaled the tree like a squirrel. As she reached the proper branch, she laid herself on her stomach on said limb. With precious and care so as not to disturb the other eggs, she plopped the other into the nest. With a smile, she looked down at her husband and son.

"It's not so high, when you're actually up here that is." She laughed.

"Yes, well, all the same—get down here dear." Bungo fretted.

Belladonna laughed. "Then catch me."

With that, she rolled off the branch. Bungo just barely had time to drop his son's hand and reach out for his falling wife—a glory of fluttering hair and skirts like a fairy. He doubled over at the sudden intake of weight, but fixed himself not long after. Belladonna grinned at him like a mad man.

"That was like some ridiculous trust exercise or something, huh?" She grinned ear to ear.

Bungo tried to give his best expression of being terribly upset. "I'll go with or something."

"Blustering birches, don't be such a worry wart." Belladonna teased with a pleased grin.

Her husband shot her a look. "Your language dear."

"He doesn't know what it means."

"Exactly all the more reason why he'd repeat it."

"Hm, I don't see your point."

"You never do."

"I do to."

"Hm…sometimes."

"Yes, sometimes."

Bilbo grinned up at his mother and father. He was so proud to have them as his parents. He loved them with all his little heart, and he would do anything for them.

"Mama! Papa! Can we go play?" He asked eagerly, hoping dearly that they would say yes.

Bungo nodded, allowing that Baggins side of him ease up a bit. "How 'bout we play a game of tag."

Bilbo's eyes widened and before they knew it, he took off across the meadow, his big hobbit feet carrying him silently. Bungo laughed and took off after the child—the youngling had learned early that if he wanted to escape his father from tag, he needed a head start. Belladonna just shook her head and ran after the two. Despite being the most adventurous out of the two, both Bungo and Bilbo were faster than her—by a lot.

After an hour of hollering, screaming, and laughing, they all settled down to have supper. Belladonna had cooked up a great fire and now sausages were cooking over a campfire in a cast iron skillet.

"Smells good!" Bilbo squeaked, leaning back on his palms.

"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" Bungo agreed, glancing at his wife with pride.

She just shot them both her award winning grin. Grown Men had swooned for her smile. She was just glad Bungo had too; that hobbit had been such a stickler when they first met. It was a wonder he had asked her to court him at all.

"So, what do you want to do after supper?" Belladonna questioned, setting the skillet on the ground so the meat could cool a bit.

Bilbo reached out immediately but stopped when Bungo grunted disapprovingly.

"You know what happens lad."

Bilbo's lips puckered until his face became distorted with a pout.

Belladonna laughed. "Go ahead Bungo, if this little burglar wants to burgle a sausage before its ready, then by all means let him."

"Bell—"

"Bbbuuunnnnggggoooo." She whined annoyingly with the wink of an eye to follow.

Bungo rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, but nodded to Bilbo. The little hobbit didn't hesitate and his arm darted out as soon as the approval was given. As his fingers curled around a piece of meat, his yanked his hand back a small his coming from his throat.

"Hot!" He cried out, little tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Nuh-uh. No tears Bilbo Baggins." Belladonna reprimanded with a grin. "You knew exactly what you were doing."

Bilbo only pouted more.

Bungo gave a soft smile. "I know what we should do after supper. Let's take a nap—Bilbo is tired and I'm too. Sleeping in this meadow seems like a grand idea."

To Belladonna, it sounded like anything but grand. Someone would have to keep watch while they were asleep. Being that Bungo was planning sleeping, that meant she would be keeping watch. Her husband caught the weary look in her eyes.

"Bella, come on. You're just as tire as the rest o' us. You'll enjoy the rest."

"We can't all sleep Bungo." She pointed out.

"What's an hour of us all sleeping?"

• • •

"Admit it! We're lost!"

A raven haired dwarf looked up to his bald companion.

"We are not lost, Dwalin. I simply took a shorter way to Bree."

The bald dwarf—Dwalin—snorted. "As if. We all know ye've got a lousy sense o' direction Thorin. Ye'd get lost ta yer front door if it weren' for Dis."

It was Thorin's turn to look offended. "If it is all the same to you, I can reach the front door just fine."

"Sure ye can laddie, that's why Dis helps ye out o' the Blue Mountains every time we leave."

"Be quiet."

"Make me."

Thorin gave a grin before tackling the much larger dwarf to the ground. It was a rare moment that he was ever this open and playful, but there was much reason to be joyous. It was the first time in months that he had been able to find a job. He had earned much coin from the trading caravans in Ered Luin, and his sister had announced that she was pregnant. Nothing made him feel happier or more nervous than the thought of being an uncle to Dis' child. But it mattered little to him. He was currently covered in head to toe with dirt, while Dwalin's just growing beard was matted with mud. He was lucky that his own beard was small and short enough to be braided into a single plait.

"Alright, alright ye win!" Dwalin barked out, shoving the raven haired dwarf off him.

Thorin sat up and straightened out his blue tunic. "And do not forget it."

Dwalin snorted.

Thorin reached out and picked up his fur coat and dusted it off. He picked up Dwalin's fur vest as well and tossed it to the taller. Dwalin grabbed it, grumbling the whol while. As Dwalin reached down to pick up his dropped traveling pack, Thorin got a good view of the dwarf's tattooed head. He wondered what had led his friend into making that decision. Many dwarves tattooed themselves yes, but none had ever done so on the head. Even for a dwarf, the head was a far delicate piece that should not be tampered with.

But Dwalin had.

And he intimidated every single Man and dwarf at the sight of his blue khuzdul tattoos. It was truly a terrifying thing to behold—a grizzly young dwarf with blue menacing ink all over his head. It scared pretty much everyone except Dis.

And Thorin himself of course. After Anzanulbizar, hardly anything scared him. It had been over thirty years, but still the battle to reclaim Moria scarred his mind.

"Thorin!" Dwalin shouted.

The raven haired dwarf looked up at his friend. "I'm sorry, were you saying something?"

"Sure choose and pick the times ta listen ta me." The other dwarf taunted, shifting his shoulders as he hauled his pack up.

"I truly was not paying attention." Thorin amended. "I am sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was sayin'," Dwalin growled with exasperation, "that we need ta find a place ta camp soon. The sun'll be setting in an hour or so."

Thorin nodded. "Very well. I imagine we won't arrive in Bree until tomorrow. Let's go until the sun sets."

They both then set off, their feet marching in synchronization and tandem. Well wasn't that a sight? To anyone else unaware of both dwarf's history, they would have found it odd and extremely talented to be able to walk like toy soldiers. But to Thorin and Dwalin, it was a painful reminder. A memory that they had been trained to fight and had seen battle.

They walked for as long as the sunlight permitted them, which was as Dwalin predicted: an hour. With the dusk creeping in, the two dwarves set down their packs and started a fire. With a bit of exhaustion, for they had been traveling for over a month now, they laid out their bedrolls and sat onto of them.

"So, what do ye wish fer dinner?" Dwalin ask sarcastically. "There's jerky, and jerky, and perhaps a lovely touch o' stale biscuits."

Thorin gave a throaty chuckle. "I suppose some jerky and a biscuit will suffice for now."

"I'm glad I could meet your highness' expectations." Dwalin snarked, reaching into his pack and pulling out his food.

Thorin grew serious. "You have not toyed with my title like that in a long time."

"There's a first time fer everything." The tattooed dwarf grunted.

Thorin remained frowning.

"Ye will be restored ta that status." Dwalin rumbled, handing Thorin the food.

Thorin sighed. "It has been many years since I have laid eyes upon our homeland. It is hard to believe your words."

"True as that might be," the big dwarf admitted, "I can feel the truth in my words. It will happen someday."

"One can only hope." Thorin nodded, beginning to eat.

They ate silently, the only sound was them tearing into the food ravenously. If one were to observe them, it would be thought that they hadn't eaten in days. But such was the eating habits of dwarves. Messy, rude, and extremely noisy. When they had finished, both friends gave sighs.

"I almost wish we were in Bree, if only fer the food." Dwalin snorted.

Thorin coughed out a laugh and laid down on his mat. His blue eyes stared up at the stars, watching the twinkling lights. How often he would watch the stars and think of all the jewels in Erebor. The sleeping jewels that laid helplessly and uselessly under a slumbering dragon. The thought made him angry.

"So," Dwalin barked out. "I'm thinkin' yer thinkin' about the recent conversation that Dis held with ya."

Thorin turned his head to his friend. Dwalin was laying on his own bed roll. His hands were clasped over his chest, he too looked up at the stars.

"And what conversation might this be?" Thorin asked moodily.

"The one about ye getting' married."

Thorin pursed his lips.

Ah, that one.

"No, I'm not thinking of such thoughts."

Dwalin chuckled. "Could've fooled me. I would've bet my best axe that ye were broodin' on the thought of settlin' down and the like."

"What makes you believe I do not wish to have a family?" Thorin asked, his left eyebrow raised skeptically.

Dwalin still searched the stars. "Ye gave Dis that exact same look that ye had a moment before, when she had told ye ta go meet a nice dwarf lass."

"Ah."

"Well?"

"Well what? I was not thinking about marriage."

"So ye're not interested in marryin'?"

"That is not what I said."

"Ye were thinkin' it."

Thorin let out a loud guffaw. "For the love of Mahal, Dwalin! My personal life is my own!"

Dwalin chuckled and closed his eyes. "Very well, Thorin. But expect me ta pester ye tomorrow 'bout the subject."

Thorin rolled his eyes. "Good night Dwalin."

"Night."

Thorin moved to sit up. He would have to take watch since Dwalin was asleep. Getting up off of his bed roll, he went and sat on a stump not too far from the fire. With the patience of someone who had lived eighty three years, he watched the black landscape attentively. Although, his thoughts had brought him to feel in a singing mood. He had never quite dropped the dream that he would one day be a bard.

A small smile tugged on his lips as he began to sing.

"Far over the misty mountains cold.
To dungeons deep, and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells.
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord,
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword…"

He paused and allowed his thoughts to take over him. How he longed for the comforting halls of Erebor. The happiness of dwarves, the safety the stone walls provided him. How he missed his home.

• • •

Bilbo looked up and realized that the night had already given way. The stars were shining brightly, lighting up the entire meadow in silver light. With a few years of practice to support him, the small hobbit wiggled out of his parents loving embrace. It was night time! And there was starlight! It was the perfect time to look for fairies!

Tiptoeing quietly away from Belladonna and Bungo, Bilbo broke into a run as soon as he got away from his parents hearing distance. With an excited grin, and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, Bilbo began to look for fairies. He searched everywhere; under rocks, between flowers, in tree holes, under roots, behind rocks and so on. He was about to stop his search and head back dejectedly to his parents when he heard a faint tune. It was so soft and low that he almost didn't hear it. But his sharp little hobbit ears picked up on the gentle song.

"For ancient king and elvish lord,
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword…"

Bilbo felt shaken. The song was so sad, and so deep. He wondered what poor creature would even sing such a melancholy song. Perhaps it was one of those tricky fairies! Perhaps they were in trouble. He would save them! He was a brave explorer! He would find them and their sad song.

Not even thinking about the repercussions, for the five year old was stubborn minded and well…a five year old, set out in the direction he had heard the song. The woods were dark, but he wasn't particularly afraid. There were no mean animals in the Shire to harm him, and anyone who lived in the Shire was trustable.

It wasn't until he began to get sleepy, when he realized that he had gone a bit too far. He hadn't meant to, but Bilbo had wandered far in his search for the fairy and or fairies in their song. And now…

He was lost.

Telling himself that his Papa would want him to panic, he looked around in the dark. The faint glow of moon and stars helped him a bit as he searched for a sign of his parent's camp. It didn't take him long to find it. A small glow of fire light.

With a relieved breath, Bilbo ran towards the light. He was sure his parents weren't awake yet and maybe he wouldn't get in trouble. Maybe they would want to take another nap! He was tired now. He wanted to sleep.

As he approached the fire he realized that there was something off. There were two people crouched around the fire, but they were too tall to be his parents. He slowed down as he entered their camping circle. They were fall too tall to be hobbits. But he recognized them immediately for they both had horses.

Men.

He whimpered and went back to turn around when the one closest to him turned around. The man had beady green eyes and a shriveling tallow beard. He was close to bald save for the five wiry hairs that sprouted from the crown of his head. He smiled at the Halfling child—his mouth was missing several teeth and a good handful of the ones that were still in their positions were black.

"Hullo there! Jed, look what we got!" He explained. "It's a Shireling!"

This 'Jed', who looked almost identical to the first, except maybe a bit nicer looking—he had an actual full head of the same spoiled yellow hair—smiled.

"Well, looky at that." He grinned. "You've seem to have lost your way boy. What are you doin' all the way out here. A mighty far way from Hobbiton."

Bilbo nodded.

"Well speak up lad!" The first was stated loudly. "Tell us why you're here and not in your cozy little bed."

"Don't press him Lin." Jed barked back.

'Lin' glared at the other man.

Jed ignored him. "Well Halfling? Why are you here?"

"Lost." Bilbo finally squeaked out. He was more than scared about these men. Something was off about them.

Lin blinked, a cruel smile curling on his lips. "You're just a little one, eh?"

"I'm not little!" Bilbo protested indignantly. "I'm five!"

Jed raised his arm to keep the other man from speaking. "Mighty grown up you are then. But that doesn't stop us from your problem. You said you were lost? You would happen to be the child of two older hobbits?"

Bilbo didn't stop to think about the stupid question. It was so obscure and ambiguous that if he had been thinking clearly, he would have noted something suspicious. But he was more than ready to get back to Belladonna and Bungo.

So he nodded.

Jed got up and walked over to the little hobbit. "Well, you're in luck boy. I know exactly where your parents are. Do you want me to take you to them?"

Bilbo nodded again.

Jed turned and looked at Lin. He gave him a grin and a wink. So they didn't have to travel all the way to hobbit after all. The boss-man would be happy. He turned back to the boy and held out his hand. Bilbo grabbed onto and Jed led him across the camp to one of the horse. He wrapped both hands around the hobbit's waist and lifted him up onto the horse. Bilbo grabbed anxiously to the horse's mane. He didn't like heights. Jed mounted right behind him, arms around him like a fence.

"You all good boy?"

Bilbo gave a curt nod.

Jed gave a click of the tongue and dug his heel into the horse's side. The creature took off immediately. It was a matter of minutes before Bilbo realized something was wrong. They should've found his parents by now. They were going far too fast to not be there already—even a five year old could know this.

"You're not taking me to Mama and Papa, are you?" He whispered quietly.

Jed smiled in a maniac way. "No."

So Bilbo did the most logical thing he could think of.

He screamed.

Thorin was up in a second, he knew he had heard a scream. Dwalin had heard the noise too, because the slumbering dwarf was up in a matter of seconds, his axe tightly gripped in hand. Thorin's hand rested slightly on his sword. They waited for another sound. They got one, but this time the noise was cut off before it was finished. With a nod to the other, they both took off running in the direction of the scream.

It wasn't long before they heard the clopping of a speeding horse. Thorin shivered. He wouldn't admit it, but he hated horses. As they got closer, the hoof beats got louder. It wasn't until they had to move out of the way for the horse to pass when Thorin realized that the people on the horse were the source of the sound. To anyone else, a man carrying a child on his shoulder, who rode a speeding horse, might think the child was ill or sick. But not to Thorin. That man had a disgusting look himself as he rode by. It was then that the child looked up.

Pointed ears.

Round green eyes.

Ashy brown hair.

And big, furry feet.

That rider might have been a Man, but the child was not. Thorin didn't know what business the man with the child but it wasn't any good. As soon as the child saw Thorin, he opened his mouth.

"Help!" He yelled in terror.

Thorin didn't hesitate. With precision and years of practice, he took his sword and hurled it—he hoped that the strength of his strong blacksmith arms would be enough to close the growing distance between them and the Man. It did.

The horse crumpled to the ground. The Man went down with his horse, a sickening crack coming from his body, and the child went sailing through the air and into the woods. Then there was quiet. Thorin feared he only made the situation worse. He turned to Dwalin.

"Go the direction he was coming from. I will search for the child. The Man does not move. He and the horse are dead."

The large dwarf ran from him with hesitation through the woods. The horse tracks were easy to see in the strange light of the night sky. By the time that he had come to the end of the tracks, there was a man sitting on a bed roll, cleaning a knife that had an ominious blood stain. That didn't sit well with him.

The Man regarded him with surprise.

Dwalin cut to the chase. "Ye probably are friends with the one who was ridin' a horse back there."

The man gave Dwalin a cocky pointed look. "What of it?"

It was too quick for the man to time, he had his hands around the Man's throat in seconds.

"Where are the parents o' the child ye lot kidnapped?" He demanded furiously.

Lin smiled. "Dead."

Without hesitation, the dwarf snapped the Man's miserable neck. Good ridance.

Meanwhile, Thorin was having some trouble. The young child had scrambled as soon as he fell. He scurried up a tree as skilled as an elf and Thorin wondered if he was. But he put all thoughts aside as he saw that the child was not as slender as elf childen. But he was a human either. So what was he?

"You can come down." Thorin called up. "Those Men will not hurt you."

"I know." The child snapped back.

"I will not harm you." He assured.

"Liar."

Thorin blinked, feeling more than offended. His voice hardened, becoming deeper as he grew angry. "I am many things youngling, but I am not a liar."

The child did not reply for a little bit. But then he finally spoke. His voice quiet and soft.

"You." He whispered.

The dwarf cocked his eyebrow. "What?"

The little hobbit opened his mouth chirped out a shrill line of song. "To hide in gems on hilt of sword."

Thorin recognized the song immediately. "You heard me singing?"

"I was looking for fairies." The little boy admitted sheepishly.

Thorin blinked and allowed his facial expression to soften. "Come down, I promise on Mahal that I will not harm you."

"Who's Mahal?"

The raven haired dwarf sighed. Looking at his hand, he realized he still held his retrieved sword. Nodding, he threw it off to the side. With a gentle smile he glanced up at the boy.

"I am no longer armed. You need not worry about me hurting you."

"No."

Thorin growled in frustration. This child was insufferable! It mattered not. He could wait until the child was ready. He would settle himself with questions on the boy himself. He had never ran into a creature quite like him.

"If you do not mind me asking, what are you?"

The little child gave an offended gasp and came sidling down the tree. Well, that didn't take long. Perhaps this boy was vain. But when the boy landed on the ground, he realized how small he was. The boy barely reached his knee! So, for the child's own sake, he crouched down so they could see eye to eye.

"Imma hobbit!" He squeaked out.

Thorin smiled a bit less amiably than he planned, but it would have to do. "Well then, Master Hobbit, I am Thorin Oakenshield."

Then Bilbo puffed out his chest and fiddled with his suspenders, just as he had seen Papa do it.

"I'm Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End." He declared proudly.