Necessity
Author: wanderingsmith
apr 2014
Summary:
ch1 - Watching the warrior figure first pacing towards combat,
then rushing, sword and wooden shield raised, he understood.
ch2 - Part of him, a large part, wanted the hold to continue;
could rest here, armour and all.
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to
pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the
toys, I play with 'em.
AN: would be called 'Deconstructing Azog rush' except that
further scenes have started tacking themselves onto this already
so.. guess won't be just that
Goto Chapter 2: Deconstructing Hug
(Bilbo POV)
Chapter one: Deconstructing Azog rush (Bilbo POV)
Tumbling down the goblin mineshaft had been terrifying, and yet it
had been simple. There was nothing he could do, no decision to make
between evils.
Not like this desperate grasp on a flimsy branch that he had to
choose to continue every moment that his tired arms wanted to let
go. There were wargs and orcs below, certain death; that scarred
face of evil staring almost right at him promised it.
And then he lifted his head and stared in disbelief as Thorin rose
up, haloed in drifting ash; by some strange magic standing tall and
steady on the shivering trunk, resisting the wind that whipped his
hair and furs.
Bilbo stared, the pain and fear pushed aside by an awe he had never
truly known before, had only felt the echo of, listening to epic
tales of bravery as a young hobbit.
"*There* is one I could follow."
Watching the warrior figure first pacing towards combat, then
rushing, sword and wooden shield raised, he understood. Where
earlier a hobbit's intellectual sympathy had made him want to help
the dispossessed leader and his merry band, now he felt the power
he'd only glimpsed in Balin's words. The rush to follow this king
without thought to where he led.
The wind somehow brought Bilbo the whisper of an enraged growl in a
voice that was *not* an orc, and there was a wave of emotion rising
through him that was overwhelming, leaving no thought behind as
sudden strength flowed through his body, arms able, of a sudden, to
pull him up onto that trunk.
Seeing Thorin's charge struck down by a powerful clawed foot, Bilbo
froze, staring. An utterly unfamiliar pressure building in his chest
as he panted, watching his king rise painfully to face another
charge from the savage creature the orc rode, watching time slow as
a horrifying spiked ball hit him square in the chest...
That roar of pain should have terrified him, but he only stared,
transfixed, waiting for he couldn't imagine what. The sight of
Orcrist rising again even less believable than to see that monster-
The sudden silence, broken by the sound of his king's armoured body
landing un-moving, finally released him. Later he would be shocked
at his actions, but in that instant, seeing the mighty dwarf
suddenly defenceless, Bilbo reached for his weapon; he did not have
a reason or a plan, at most there was the ghost of a thousand
stories of brave battles giving words to the very scene he'd just
watched.
Heat and power and focus and the hobbit was running down the fiery
trunk, fuelled by utter fury, utter refusal to accept any
possibility that anyone would take that dwarf's bright eyes from
this world. Take the mighty king who'd charged his family's foe
again after thinking so long that he'd already avenged his dead.
In nightmares to come, Bilbo would remember watching sharp metal
touch Thorin's neck, but as he ran, he only raised his sword, his
steps feeling oddly heavier, weightier, as though the phantom of one
of those storied warriors stepped with him.
He pushed hard as that cruel excuse for a blade rose, and he was
flying, letting his body hit the creature and send him crashing
down. He may as well have landed on the hard ground himself for the
shock as armour bit into his unprotected body; and then he flew
again, no time to react, hitting the ground on his own and a growl
following him.
'fight fight fight fight', he could not lay there; had to raise his
arm, his weapon -Orcrist swinging seemingly from within a mouth-.
And then he had, and the body about to crush him hesitated; and
Bilbo didn't, never thought, never stopped, 'stab stab you will NOT
have him stab don't stop don't stop move move move where is he don't
let them near'
And then there was a moment of stillness; wargs and orcs reforming
in front of him, and Bilbo's mind started to think. But what could
he think. Not even the most hobbitish hobbit would try to 'reason'
with these foes. And Bilbo didn't feel hobbit-ish. Not even
Took-ish. He felt like the King's man, didn't choose to analyze that
he was setting his small, unskilled body as a last defence in front
of what could be a *dead* king. No one would touch Thorin
Oakenshield while Bilbo Baggins lived.
If he'd had time for real thought, Bilbo would have been surprised
that what he'd felt defending his mother's glory chest, his *home*,
from mad dwarves hadn't, actually, been anything at all. A mere
butterfly's touch at what he'd thought were protective instincts. At
any feeling at all.
This. Protecting a dwarf king, protecting Thorin, from deadly evil
and his own rash will, this was what necessity felt like. This was
why he'd needed to exist all these years.
Chapter
Two: Deconstructing Hug (Bilbo POV)
Summary: Part of him, a large part, wanted the hold to continue;
could rest here, armour and all.
Live. You have to live.
If he stared hard enough, surely his words would have power...
"The halfling."
Oh thank Yavanna.
Letting Gandalf's and the others' voices roll over him as they
replied to that gravelly demand, Bilbo's shoulders finally lost some
of the tension that had grown while watching Thorin's still body,
barely-held in eagle claws as they flew, so high above the green
valleys.
His eyes shut on another quick thanks to the Valar before the need
to watch Thorin move made him open them once more. So stiff that the
proud king allowed himself to be helped up. Obviously hurt; but
alive. Standing.
The sheer relief made Bilbo shaky. Shaky in a way that he hadn't
been even as he expected to be bitten in half or beheaded in the
next instant. And yet it was a good feeling. Thorin would heal. And
Bilbo knew he *could* be of help on this mad quest.
"You! What were you doing?"
What? But... Bilbo stiffened, turning to Gandalf automatically for
help. Pulled back by another shout, "You nearly got yourself
killed!"
Well. Bilbo's eyes dropped from that familiar furious expression.
Well what had he expected. He did know he wouldn't have actually
been able to hold them off. Yes, he knew that. The fact that he'd
*tried*, well what did he expect: Thorin had never wanted him near
him.
He stopped listening to the shouts, instead remembering that he'd
heard it before: it made no difference. Reminding himself of his
decision. A Baggins stands by his word and he'd promised to help
them to Erebor, and he-
"I have never been so wrong in all my life."
Mind still half trying to give himself the pep talk to continue
helping someone who despised him, the sudden cinch of hard arms
encircling him and a fur-covered shoulder pushing his chin up shook
him.
What in all... His arms were clamped in place, but his hands still
reflexively grabbed onto the armoured body holding him so tight.
*Thorin* was.. But his voice.. Bilbo breathed out a silent
half-laugh, a very different elation than at their having survived
the wargs flowing through him.
Thorin.. did not hate him. Whatever he'd been 'wrong' about.. Bilbo
could not recall anyone ever holding onto him like this, wrapped
tight around him; as though he would never be abandoned again. And
he could never have even imagined hearing such heartfelt softness in
the gruff king's voice.
Part of him, a large part, wanted the hold to continue; could rest
here, armour and all. His sudden hunger for the never-before felt
peace and comfort was shocking, enough so that he reacted
immediately to being released, almost afraid of this new need to
cling to another person.
He watched the dwarf king step back, and rather than think of how
complicated his life was becoming and how the thought of his old
life seemed so empty, instead, he wondered at Thorin's actions.
Trying yet again, after all these weeks, to read past the surface of
his face when it lifted from looking him over, seeming to look for
injuries.
Oh, but it was a new world now; still that deadly-serious surety,
but no longer was there annoyed coldness. And the arrogant distance
was a fraction what it had been, eyes meeting Bilbo's head-on,
without glaring; a look of.. could that be resp-
"I am sorry I doubted you."
Bilbo knew, could not have travelled with his king and not know,
that apologies would choke him, and so he hurriedly tried to ease
the weight of it between them, -he was a hobbit, for sweet Yavanna's
sake, what was one of Mahal's warrior kings doing apologizing to
him??-, "No. No, I would have doubted me too," looking at the
bloodied, painfully-standing dwarf, a vision of ash and fire and a
raised sword flashed by his eyes, "I'm not a hero." He shrugged
uncomfortably, "Or a warrior." Looking away from Thorin's lips
tightening in what he could choose to believe was disagreement, he
looked up at Gandalf a little pointedly, "Not even a burglar."
But then, looking back at his king, he couldn't help but smile
helplessly at the completely unfamiliar, shocking, unhidden,
*fond*.. small but definitely a *smile* he found aimed at him. When
had bruised and bleeding features started to tighten the heart of
this peaceful Shire hobbit?
Needing a respite from the growing pressure in his chest, Bilbo
looked away again, tilting his happy smile at the wondrous eagles
flying off. Riddling cave creatures, facing orcs, riding eagles and
hugging kings. He should not be feeling such excitement at no longer
being the respectable Baggins of Bag End who'd passed out at the
thought of incineration.
Some small movement drew his eyes back to Thorin, blinking at yet
another new expression and following that blue gaze hurriedly,
wondering what could give his king such awe. All he saw was a
mountain in the distance, standing alone.. oh.
"Is that what I think it is?" Could the end of their quest be so
near?
When Thorin awkwardly headed for the edge of the spit of rock the
eagles had dropped them on, Bilbo hesitated a moment, off-balance at
suddenly feeling *welcome* to follow the king. To stand at his side
while he drank in the sight of the home that Bilbo had promised to
help return to him.
"Erebor. The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms
of Middle-earth."
However much he usually enjoyed a tale of olden times, even with the
embroidery Gandalf insisted on adding, Bilbo knew that, like the
night the company had invaded his home, it would be Thorin's low
voice he would remember when he thought of this moment; the deep
well of love the last word resonated with: "Our home."
"A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain."
"That, my dear Óin, is a thrush."
"But we'll take it as a sign - a good omen." Still staring with
amazement at the cheerfully chirping little bird flying out ahead of
them to fulfil a prophecy he'd heard an elf speak, Bilbo nonetheless
smiled helplessly at that voice, looking up at the dwarf at his
side.
Hurriedly looking away again when he found tired blue eyes watching
him with some impossible to accept mix of friendship and.. something
else. Perhaps only gratitude; or curiosity for having misjudged;
or.. or- He babbled the first thing that came to mind, unnerved by
the way he was suddenly reacting, "You're right. I do believe the
worst is behind us."
And winced, realizing how foolish the words were as soon as he spoke
them. He flicked his fingers through a silent prayer to Yavanna,
that she take away any curse he might have just unintentionally laid
on their quest.
AN: *may* be
continued, I make no promises. I am not a professional writer
and I have a love/hate relationship with muses
if anyone would be interested in playing wall (i.e., listen/read
to rambles about ideas surrounding improving the feel/flow of a
story... I would be pleased for a helping voice :)) ... I could
use an advisor or 2. I have no 14th of anything to offer as
reward, so unless the sharing is reward enough for you...
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