Soul Traitor

Credit goes to SunnyRose

Chapter 4: Chapter 3- In the Company of Dwarves

Summary:

Bilbo adjusts to life on the road with the dwarves.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE NOT COMING?!"

Those walking past, eyed the little hobbit strangely after his outburst, but Bilbo couldn't bring himself to care. His eyes remained glued to the wizard before him. Even the dwarves who had stopped what they were doing to watch the fight couldn't hold his attention.

"Bilbo, my dear hobbit, there's no need to get yourself in such a fit. I only ever meant to bring you to Tharbad. I have other duties to see to, and going to Rivendell is not exactly on the way."

If Bilbo's past lives were sentient beings, he would imagine they would be laughing at him right now. Taunting him with 'we knew it' or 'I told you so' much like Bilbo's cousins when he was younger. Even without a physical reminder, Bilbo could feel his chest puff up and cheeks burn brightly.

"I can't go to Rivendell with these dwarves by myself." Bilbo explained softly.

"Thorin and Balin have drafted you a fine contract that you had no objection to when you signed."

More like he had no choice! He had been paid half now, but would not see the rest of his payment until he finished deciphering Madoc's missing pages. Even the agreement to cover traveling costs which meant supplies and food had been alright with Bilbo. It had been the long list of potential injuries to his person that they were not liable for that had given him pause. He had made them add in 'unless delivered by a member of the company' which had certainly soured the negotiations. Bilbo realized rather quickly that if they ran into trouble, aid would not come from the dwarves. However, they would prepare a lovely commoner funeral for him in a pine box of all things should he meet his demise in one of the aforementioned ways.

"Please, Gandalf." Bilbo lowered his voice. "I can't do this without you."

The old wizard gave him a sympathetic smile as he placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Have courage, my friend. You must know I would never leave you if I deemed the situation dire. I believe this adventure will be good for you."

A memory from far away came bidden to Bilbo's mind as his lips ticked upwards slightly.

"And most amusing for you?" He finished.

Gandalf chuckled. "The only thing I will find amusing is when the dwarves realize how wrong they are about you." He lowered his voice as if he were about to impart a secret. "A rather stubborn race that tends to stick to their own preconceived notions until proven otherwise."

Bilbo shook his head with a sigh. Just how was he supposed to prove them wrong if they wouldn't even give him the time of day? He had the strangest urge to hug Gandalf close like a child hiding in their mother's skirt. However, if there was one thing in the world more stubborn than dwarves, it was wizards when they got an idea in their head.

"If I asked you to take me back home to the Shire instead, would that be on your way?"

"I'm afraid not." Gandalf smiled gently. "You will either be traveling to Rivendell with the company, or back home to the Shire alone."

Bilbo sighed. His mother used to travel alone. Surely, Bilbo could retrace his steps easily enough.

"Halfling!" Thorin barked. "Let's go. The day will get away from us if we don't depart now."

Bilbo looked over to see all the dwarves already in their saddles, waiting for him to finish his conversation with Gandalf. Bilbo turned back to the wizard who merely gave him a wink.

"I will see you again. I promise, Bilbo."

Something in Bilbo settled at his words even knowing that could mean in another life. Bilbo hugged the wizard tightly before turning back to Thorin and company. He gave a single nod as he grabbed Myrtle's saddlehorn, pulling himself up onto her back. Seeing him finally ready to go, Thorin swiftly pulled his pony's reins around, leading their group out of town. Most of the dwarves rode in pairs, conversing with each other in low tones leaving Bilbo at the back of the group alone. He turned back to give one last look at Gandalf, but the wizard was already gone. Bilbo took a deep breath as he came upon a fork in the road. One path taking him home, the other following the company.

He contemplated his options. Did he want to go home? Or did he want to see this through? He knew what his head was screaming at him, but his heart...his heart knew he would go back to being a shell of a hobbit in the Shire. He needed to do this. Regardless of how uncomfortable it was. Besides, Rivendell has always been somewhere he's wanted to see. Maybe he would finally find peace amongst the rumored beauty of the Last Homely House. Ever so gently, Bilbo nudged Myrtle along after the dwarves. His eyes glued to the backside of the pony in front of him hoping he was not about to regret this decision.

***

Bilbo had gotten a taste of living off the road from his short journey with Gandalf, but it still wasn't enough to prepare him for camping with the dwarves. Each of them had their own job when they finally decided to stop for the night, and they completed it with such efficiency, Bilbo was actually impressed. Or at least he would be if the same courtesy had been extended to him.

When Fili and Kili came to take the ponies to the river for a drink, they purposefully excluded Myrtle. When Oin and Gloin went to gather firewood, it was for a fire he was not invited to sit around. When Bombur put together a lovely smelling stew, it was not for him to get a taste. If Bilbo didn't get the hint he was unwanted before, he certainly couldn't escape it now.

Bilbo refused to make it an issue. That's why he put up with the snickers when his attempts to lead Myrtle left him face down in the dirt. He stopped trying to make a fire when his every small flame was smothered by a dwarf kicking dirt or spilling water when they walked by. Bilbo learned to live off rations, and his bedroll was always somehow filled with small rocks and pinecones, but he made do. Even if every little shun just left him feeling more lonely and lost than ever.

He just had to remind himself that it was only until they reached Rivendell. Once he finished his job, he'd never have to see another dwarf again. It was too bad though, because every time he listened to them laugh and carry on in their secret language, he found himself wanting to be in on the joke. Wanting to feel the camaraderie in adventure. Wanting to know what it was like to have a friend.

Bilbo was staring down at the back of his pony, humming a tune he made up to pass the time when he got the shock of his life.

"What's that?"

Bilbo physically jumped in his saddle, causing Myrtle to whine and shift nervously before he could get her back under control. When he was assured she wasn't about to bolt out from under him, he turned his head sharply to the left where Bofur was watching him with a calculated gaze as he puffed on his pipe.

"I'm sorry?" Bilbo responded, his voice gravelly and soft from disuse.

"That song you were singing just now." He clarified.

"Oh!" Bilbo exclaimed. "It's just a little ditty I was making up."

"Does it have any lyrics?"

Bilbo blinked suddenly, realizing he was actually having a conversation with this dwarf.

"Do you realize you're talking to me right now?"

A quick grin tugged at Bofur's face before he schooled his expression once more.

"Aye." He answered.

"Well, I think, from what I've understood so far, you'll surely catch a disease from speaking to me, being too close to me, probably even looking at me. Just so you know before you take that risk."

Bofur snorted which had him coughing as he accidentally inhaled some smoke. The rest of the company turned around to glare at them as if Bilbo had somehow choked him on purpose only to roll their eyes when Bofur began to laugh.

"See I warned you." Bilbo murmured.

His laughs came harder and louder, pulling a smirk from Bilbo's face as well. Bofur thumped him hard on the back, nearly pushing Bilbo out of the saddle. He turned to glare at the dwarf only to see the suspicion in his gaze replaced with something softer.

"You're not so bad, Halfling."

"Excuse you, my name is Bilbo Baggins."

"Bofur." He stated as he tipped his hat.

"Yes, I know. Son of Boudur. Brother of Bombur and cousin of Bifur."

Bofur raised an eyebrow, his smile falling slightly as Bilbo shrugged.

"It's not like there's anything else to do but listen to you lot."

Bofur's eyes fell as he scratched the back of his head, pushing his hat up slightly.

"You know..." Bofur stated softly. "Not everyone here agrees with how you've been treated thus far."

Bilbo nearly had whiplash with how fast he looked up.

"They sure have done a damn good job of hiding it."

"Course they have." Bofur snorted. "No one is about to argue with the future king."

Bilbo's mouth pressed into a thin line as he glared at the back of Thorin's head. Maybe if concentrated hard enough he could get the arrogant sod to catch fire.

"If our dear company leader had a problem with me joining, maybe he shouldn't have hired me..."

"Not Thorin." Bofur interrupted with a shake of his head. "Frerin."

Bilbo's brows furrowed together as he moved his gaze from Thorin to his brother, ducking his head when he caught the dwarf's glare.

"I'm sorry, I was under the assumption..."

"An easy mistake to make." Bofur assured him. "Not that Thorin is any more taken with you, but he at least sees the necessity of you being alive and relatively unharmed until we make it to Rivendell."

"Gee, thanks."

"No problem!"

"So what made you take the risk?" Bilbo asked, genuinely curious.

Bofur scratched at his mustache as he gave Bilbo a smirk.

"I couldn't take another day of those big sad eyes of yours."

Bilbo blinked before turning said eyes onto the dwarf with a glare.

"Aye, that's the look." He teased.

Bilbo couldn't believe he actually wanted this. Just seemed like a nuisance at this point.

"And if you're looking for more than just sympathy, I might have an idea to bring some more dwarves around to your side."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, listening intently even after telling himself he didn't care.

"Is it true hobbits are good cooks?"

***

Bilbo surveyed the meal before him. He would have been able to do more with an oven, but it didn't look too bad if he did say so himself. With Bofur's help building up an actual fire to work with Bilbo had gotten to work gathering as many ingredients as he could. He wouldn't dare mess with the dwarves' supplies past the rations he was allowed, but he did know how to explore the land and managed to get lucky.

Roasted potatoes with herbs and wild onions. Roasted cabbage and apples topped with jerky and roasted, spiced nuts. And finally some roasted coneys basted with ale. He even managed to find some wild strawberries he set aside with some waybread as a sort of dessert. He couldn't wait to dig in and almost forgot why he had made such an elaborate meal in the first place until a thick hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"I hope that tastes as good as it smells!" Bofur sang as he took a deep inhale. "Yep, I imagine I'll be feasting like a king tonight."

Bilbo looked back at the dwarven camp to see Bofur had attracted a few sideways glances. Bombur's being the longest and most desperate.

"Let's dig in, Master Baggins! Now what do we have here?"

Bilbo explained every dish to him with Bofur making obscene groans after each taste. Bilbo was tempted to scoff. There was no way this was going to work. He spun around to grab a makeshift plate for himself only to come face to face with Bombur.

"D-Do you think you have any to spare?"

Bilbo blinked. "I...think there's plenty. Please help yourself."

"If Bombur gets to it, there won't be any left for anyone else! Let me through first." Nori declared, pushing past the bigger dwarf to spoon himself a plate.

"Me too! I want to try it!" Kili demanded.

Bilbo was flummoxed by the youngest prince fighting Nori over the bigger chunk of rabbit, considering Kili nearly shoved him into the river not even two days ago. However, that seemed to have opened a flood. Before long Bilbo had Bifur, Ori, and Oin all clambering around for a seat around his small camp. The noise and cheer that he had been listening to from his spot far away from them was suddenly surrounding him, immediately jarring his senses. He tried to nod his appreciation at the compliments to the food, but he wasn't able to follow much more than that. That's when he felt a tap at his arm. He spun around to see Ori giving him a shy smile.

"Master Baggins, I was wondering...have you been able to translate other parts of the...um, the Amrâb Hufrel's journal?" He asked, lowering his voice when he mentioned that name.

"Well, I mean. I just thought it would be good to know more about him. I don't have to though. If I'm performing a cultural..."

"No, no, no!" Ori immediately interrupted, waving his hands. "I'm sorry. I should have said so earlier. I'm an apprentice historian. All of our texts from that era in history have been lost to us thanks to Durin's Bane. I just...I was curious if you might translate some of it for me."

Bilbo blinked, his mind going blank for what to say other than, "But...you all hate Madoc."

Ori nodded even as he winced at the name being spoken aloud. "I certainly don't condone what he did, and I probably can never publish any information I learn for fear of being ostracized by the academic community, but I would still really like to know. Satisfy my own curiosities."

Bilbo...didn't really know what to think. He thought he had these dwarves figured out. He thought they were no different than the bullies in Ered Luin who led his mother to...He thought they would be easy to hate. He looked around at Bofur and Nori who were getting Kili to laugh out loud with his mouth full of food. He looked at Bifur, Bombur, and Oin who were having a quiet conversation using mostly dwarven hand signs. Maybe they were worth getting to know.

"Yeah, I think I would like that if you can satisfy a curiosity of mine." Bilbo stated.

Ori perked up. "Anything! Well," he amended. "Not quite anything. There are many cultural aspects that are forbidden to outsiders..."

"Can you tell me more about Thorin?" Bilbo interrupted.

Ori blinked, his eyes looking over at said dwarf before nodding his head. "I-I can do that. Yes. What do you want to know?"

"How is it that the future king travels with us, yet Thorin is the company's leader?"

Ori seemed to slump in relief making Bilbo curious about what he could have asked about Thorin that would be that bad.

"Well, when you slay a dragon, people are lining up to join your quest. He could have had an army follow him if he had wanted."

Bilbo blinked and blinked again, but he still couldn't quite believe what he heard.

"Thorin-he's slayed a dragon?!"

"Yeah! Uncle Thorin is practically a legend at this point." Kili interjected, slipping into the spot next to Ori.

The young ginger tried to push him away to no avail. Bilbo did his best to hide his humor at the situation as Bofur decided to take up the narrative.

"Well I'm assuming you've heard of Smaug the Terrible, Chiefest and Greatest Calamity of Our Age?"

Bilbo shook his head.

"Airborne firebreather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals?"

"Yes, I know what a dragon is." Bilbo scoffed. "I just don't know anything about this particular one."

Bofur smirked, settling well into his role as storyteller.

"The first we heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines creaked and cracked in the hot dry wind..."

Bilbo was immediately entranced, along with every other dwarf there. Bofur did well to describe the roar that pounded through the city walls and the screams that echoed as fire rained down upon Dale.

"Now Ol' King Thrain's first thought was to mobilize the army. Fight dwarvish iron versus the rumored impenetrable scales of the dragon. But our Prince Thorin had another thought. He went to the forges."

"Why would he do that?" Bilbo found himself blurting when Bofur held out the silence for far too long.

Bofur smirked. "There's a failsafe in the machines to divert any accidents to the outside of Erebor. Keep the mountain from being flooded in molten metal and all that. So Thorin went and opened the vents, waited until Smaug was within range, and let melted gold bury the beast."

Bilbo gasped. "Did it work?"

"No." Bofur scoffed, causing the rest of the group to chuckle. "But it did give Thorin the advantage he needed. While Smaug was distracted, trying to shake himself free of the burning gold, Thorin aimed a black arrow right for his black heart...and let loose. A terrible screech escaped Smaug as he took to the air to try and escape his fate only to fall just on the other side of the Grey Mountains. And with that, the reign of the dragons had ended."

Bilbo immediately turned to look over at Thorin in appreciation only to jump as he was the subject of the dwarf's cold blue stare. For a long moment, Bilbo held his gaze, assessing, and it was almost with reluctance that Thorin finally looked away. Bilbo shivered after the encounter, his eyes in his lap as he thought about the story. It was quite impressive. Bilbo would probably feel safe in Thorin's company if he were a dwarf. Although there was one thing that bothered him.

What would make Thorin think to do that? Even his own father only thought of organizing his army. Surely, that's what Thorin would have done too if they had the same training and education. What did Thorin know that no other dwarf did? Before Bilbo could ask, said dwarf spoke up.

"Alright, let's get ready for bed. We have another long day of travel ahead of us."

The rest of the dwarves got up with a grumble and groan. Some that had migrated to Bilbo's camp even pat his back before heading over towards the others. It was a novel experience that left as soon as it had come. In a matter of minutes, Bilbo was left alone on the outskirts of the group just as before. As he put his things away and tempered the fire, he tried to tell himself it was alright. He should be thankful for the camaraderie that had been shown to him. But he wasn't. If anything, it only made him more lonely. He rather hoped that wouldn't shape his dreams having enjoyed the blissful quiet for the past few nights. Of course, he's never been that lucky.

***

Addy liked to think of himself as an 'acquirer of objects of value'. Others would use the term thief which he found to be riddled with negative connotations. He was much more honorable than that. He took from those that had plenty to give to those who had very little, which turned out to mostly be himself. It wasn't his fault he was poor after all.

One of things that was a positive about being an 'acquirer of objects of value' was the ability to travel wherever he pleased. He has been passed by the great horses of Rohan. Just like great big dogs in his opinion. He has stood beneath the tree of the white city of Gondor. Honestly, wasn't that impressive. And he has passed through the forests of Lothlorien. Their security needed work, but they had ages to fix it. Now, he stood outside the dwarven fortress of Erebor. The sanctuary of Durin's Folk and supposedly had rivers of gold running through the walls like veins. Sounded exactly like his kind of city.

There were just a few problems with getting in. The first was he couldn't find a whole lot of options to enter beyond the heavily guarded front doors. The second being that people of his...baring were not exactly welcome in dwarven strongholds. Something about a Consort's betrayal. Not that it mattered too much to him. He just needed a way in, and thanks to what he could only credit as dumb luck, he thinks he's found it.

He was on the west side of the mountain, scouting for hidden entrances when the moonlight shined down to hit the side of the mountain revealing a magical keyhole. Scrambling he managed to create some clay from the earth around him and the supplies in his bag and craft a mold for what would be the key needed. He scrambled down the mountainside and back to the nearest man village to have the local blacksmith forge it for him. He went back day after day for months waiting for the keyhole to reappear to no avail. Finally, he decided it must only be shown every year. What a pointless door.

Part of him debated on just giving up and choosing a simpler mark. However, he had expended too much energy now. He was going to get in there. So for an entire year, he was forced to live in the streets of the man village. Reminded of what could have been had he not been left behind for dead by his family. Glared at by any dwarf that entered just for existing. It made him want to steal from them all the more. And finally, finally, the day had come.

Taking the large iron key, he marched his way back up to the door, waiting until the spill of the moonlight revealed the keyhole. Then hoping against all hope that his mad idea actually worked, he pressed the key in the opening. It entered easily, turning the mechanism smoothly, there was a crunching noise and then...

Addy gasped as the door parted easily from the stone revealing a darkened hallway to him. He did it! He was going to be the first being to steal from Erebor. He carefully slipped inside doing what he thought was a good job of maintaining secrecy. Or at least he did, until a hand shot out in the dark to grab him by the arm.

Addy spun around as much as he could, having his arm wrenched upwards. It was a dwarf with dark hair and ice blue eyes.

"And just how did you get into my kingdom?" The deep gravelly voice all but purred.

"If I show you, can I keep my arm?"

The dwarf glared down at him for a long moment before his lips upturned into a small smirk.

"The arm, you can keep. Your head? I can't make any promises."

***

It had been another long day of riding. Although Bilbo was getting the distinct impression they were going too far north. They needed to go back east a bit. Not that he would ever say anything to his illustrious leaders about it. In some ways, his relationships with the dwarves had gotten better. And in some ways, it was so much worse. The ones that decided he wasn't too bad would hang back and talk with him. The ones that still despised him now had a reason to bark and snap at him.

Bilbo was listening to Bofur with half an ear as his mind was stuck wandering over past lives and the mess this Madoc had made, not that he's been able to find any evidence of such in the book yet. Bilbo understood the book was a personal journal of Madoc's but honestly, it seemed as if he were an ideal leader, a beloved consort, and a doting husband. What happened to make it all go so wrong? Bilbo assumed only those missing pages would tell him. Another reason he was getting anxious about their path.

They were cresting the next hill when something off to the left caught Bilbo's attention. In the distance were a series of mounds. Almost small mountains given how they rose above the horizon. The grassy and treeless hills seemed ordinary enough, but it was with a shiver that Bilbo realized exactly where they were.

Cutting Bofur off mid-sentence, Bilbo kicked Myrtle's flanks, pushing the pony to rush out ahead of the group where he turned sharply in front of Thorin. The dwarf quickly grabbed his pony's reins to gain control as the pony jerked and whinnied at Bilbo's intrusion. Thorin's eyes bore into Bilbo with a withering glare.

"Just what do you think you're doing, you little..." Frerin began to spat, but Bilbo cut him off. His eyes remaining on Thorin, and Thorin alone.

"We have to get away from here. Fast! We're all in grave danger."

"Danger?" Balin asked, his brows raised high.

"Oh come off it! You attention-seeking abrâfu shaikmashâz (descendant of rats)." Dwalin growled.

"What kind of danger?" Thorin asked steadily, ignoring his companions.

Bilbo pointed towards the hills. "Those are the South Downs. Beyond them are the Barrow-downs. Now, I've never known them to travel this far, but it's not out of the realm of possibilities for us to run into the barrow-wights. A possibility we shouldn't risk. There's no fighting them, they will ensnare and kill everyone in this company before we can even lift a weapon. We need to ride east as hard and fast as we can. Now."

Thorin didn't say anything for a long moment as silence fell amongst the company. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen. Bilbo felt his heart thudding against his chest, praying to every Valar he could think of that Thorin would listen to him. However, much to Bilbo's immediate distress, Thorin snorted and moved his pony around Bilbo's.

"We don't have time for ghost stories, Master Baggins." He sneered.

"Move on!" Dwalin shouted, glaring at Bilbo for good measure.

Bilbo's eyes fell down to his saddle as he listened to the contempt aimed at him from the more hostile members of the company. The others merely gave him a curious or sympathetic look.

"Cheer up, Bilbo." Bofur pat him on the back. "I bet it won't be as bad as you think."

Bilbo couldn't even work up the energy to smile up at him. He felt like they were tempting fate, and he didn't see it working out well for them.

Almost as if to spite him, Thorin called for them to set up camp while the downs were still within sight. Bilbo saw him look over at him as if daring him to say something, and Bilbo had to stomp off to cool his head before he said something he'd regret. He hadn't gotten further than where the horses were pitched by the stream when he spotted a patch of wildflowers. Anemones and snowdrops. Rather unusual to be growing so close together. Bilbo gasped as he was suddenly hit with an old nursery rhyme from the Shire.

Evil spirits, don't take me.

Instead find your end at my anemones.

And if that won't make you stop

I'll hold out hope with my snowdrop.

Bilbo didn't know if it would actually work, but he thought it was worth it to try. So he picked the flowers, weaving it into a chain like he was a faunt again that he draped around his neck. He got a few odd looks and snickers when he returned, but Bilbo didn't care. If it protected them from the barrow-wights, he would endure all their ridicule and more.

That night, sleep did not find him easily. Bilbo sat up in his bedroll, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, waiting to hear the supposed screeching and wails that would indicate their presence.

"Do you plan on staying awake all night?"

Bilbo looked over to see Thorin sitting by the dying embers of their fire, his pipe creating a soft glow at the end of his face. Bilbo didn't bother responding to him.

"So what do these ghosts of yours look like? So that way I know what to watch for."

Bilbo felt his eyebrows pull together and jaw tighten. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't know."

Thorin snorted. "So you're afraid of something you've never seen before."

"Don't have to have seen it to know it's there." Bilbo shot back. "I certainly didn't deny the thought of you having slain a dragon even though I've never seen one before."

There was a long pause as Thorin chomped down on the end of his pipe.

"Rest assured then, if I can slay a dragon, I can slay whatever else is out there too."

"And if you can't?" Bilbo snapped. "Must we be the price of your arrogance?"

Thorin didn't have anything to say to that. Bilbo, however, found he had a lot more. About Thorin. About this quest. About every slight he's been dealt. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by an inhumane cry. The blood froze right in Bilbo's veins, making him feel colder than he's ever had in his entire life.

"What was that?" Thorin slowly asked, rising to his feet.

Bilbo didn't answer him as a fog crept upon them.

"TO YOUR FEET! WAKE UP!" Bilbo shouted.

The other dwarves jumped into action, bleary-eyed and questioning, but it was too late. Faces. Horrible disfigured faces with such cold glowing eyes appeared out of the fog. The barrow-wights were here. Bilbo couldn't find the energy to do anything, but stand there and accept his fate and it seemed like he wasn't the only one.

"T-T-To arms." Thorin attempted to grit out, but it was like the very air was stolen his voice.

A barrow-wight popped up right in front of Bilbo, screeching in his face, and Bilbo shouted as he dove on the ground curling himself up in a tight ball. He heard the screams and shouts of his companions around him as Bilbo waited to be stolen back to the downs. However, that cold grip never came. It took him far longer than he was proud of to realize the clearing was suddenly silent. Hesitantly, he peeked from around his arms scared of what he would find. He craned his neck back and forth, but no matter how many times he looked, the sight remained the same.

There were no dwarves, no barrow-wights, no ponies. Bilbo was well and truly alone now.