It was the sight of Kili's bow that jogged her memory, and gave her the idea. She didn't have access to them, but she knew where to find another one. If she could recover it, along with some arrows, and give them to Thorin...

Yes, it would work, Bilba was sure of it.

She made sure Thorin would stay put, which he seemed prone to doing anyway, and headed out, running along the forest floor and trying to ignore the echoes of footsteps from the past rattling inside her head.

The cave was easier to find than she remembered.

A wall rose in front of her and and she pressed her hands against it, feeling the cool stone underneath her palms.

She moved her hands across it until the rock vanished. She stumbled forward a step before catching herself.

And then she was at the end of her journey.

The opening was little more than a cleft, narrow and low. Far too small for the Trolls to enter. She remembered them lumbering past much later, after the sky had cleared from the rain and the sun had begun to return, entering a different cave a hundred or so yards away.

She rested her hand for a split second on the entrance and then quietly stepped past. A light breeze from inside, ice laden and stale, drifted around her as she did, causing her to shiver. Absolute silence pressed in on her from the opening, giving no hint of the secrets contained within.

The stink from the Troll cave hit her before she even arrived, bringing back memories of those early days after. She'd only dared venture out during the day, or when the sky wasn't overcast and she still wasn't entirely sure what made her step inside one evening after the beasts had left. Morbid curiosity perhaps, or a vague thought of finding something that could help her kill them.

She'd found weapons all right, but none she could use.

At least none she could have used then.

The cave was pure black inside. Her eyes strained to adjust but there was nothing for them to adjust to, just an absence of light so intense it was a near physical thing pressing down on her. She was forced to place a hand against the wall, grimacing at the feel of lichen, and who knew what else, coating it.

Carefully she shuffled forward, her feet kicking aside debris and other, fouler, things.

Her foot struck the edge of a wooden barrel.

She dropped to her knees and began feeling around, her fingers brushing through bits of leather, debris and, a few times, long, smooth objects she tried desperately not to think about.

Metal clanged and jangled as she shoved aside swords and daggers, pieces of armor and broken helms. Where was it? She remembered clearly seeing it the last time but it didn't mean it was still in the same place. Should she check the barrels?

Her thoughts went to her friends, particularly Thorin who couldn't be trusted not to rush in like an idiot if left unattended, and her stomach knotted. She had no time to dawdle, already it could be too la –

Her fingers closed over a curved, slim shape and the rush of relief was so profound it left her shaking. She dragged the bow out, the weight of the metal pulling her arms down. It wasn't built for a Hobbit and she hoped it would be all right for Thorin. He was tall for a Dwarf; he should be able to make it work.

A quick search turned up the arrows she remembered being scattered about and then she was up and out as fast as possible.

She didn't look at that smaller cave as she went. She had the living to worry about; the dead would have to wait.

She made excellent time back and found Thorin exactly where she'd left him. About half of the Dwarves were tied to a spit and being carefully turned over a fire. The rest were piled near a boulder, bound in sacks.

Thorin looked like a statue, his face set, gaze unwavering. He probably wanted nothing more than to charge in like a blockhead, no plan and no weapon, but he was somehow managing to resist the urge.

Bilba set the bow and arrows down next to him and he started with surprise before kneeling next to her.

"Where did you come by these?"

"You want me to waste time explaining?" Bilba asked, her voice sharp. "Or do you want to stop everyone from being roasted?"

He gave her that look again, one she couldn't bother to try and define, and promptly shut his mouth.

Bilba nodded toward the Trolls. "Can you do it?"

His eyes narrowed, considering. "One, absolutely, possibly two if Mahal is with me. I cannot take all three; the third would be on me before I could string another arrow."

Bilba shut her eyes, struggling against a wave of despair. She'd hoped he could at least confidently take two immediately and then get the third as it ran toward him.

She opened her eyes again and studied the pile of Dwarves on the ground. Kili lay between Oin and Gloin, half his body actually lying over the healer. Bofur was sprawled on his side by Gloin while Bombur and Balin lay nearby. A rock overhung where Oin lay and next to it a channel led naturally into the area, a bush and more rocks providing covering. The rest of the Dwarves were tied to the spit, making enough noise to draw most of the Trolls' attention but every now and then one or more would glance towards their remaining captives to make sure they hadn't moved.

Her eyes tracked further, past Balin, Bombur and Bofur. The weapons were all there, piled in the open with nothing around them. Kili's bow was on top. His arrows were nowhere to be seen but she had plenty of those.

If only he were free and both he and Thorin had their weapons...

A new idea formed, murky and full of holes and possibly born of complete and utter insanity.

It would most likely result in her death.

On the spit Dwalin was roaring something, his voice tinged with pain as the fire licked at him each time he rotated near it. Ori looked terrified, his face paler every time he appeared. Fili's face was set, his eyes finding his brother every time they came out, actually relaxing minutely as though what was happening to him was acceptable so long as Kili stayed safe.

Next to her Thorin simply stared, his body quiet, the only movement the light from the fire flickering over his face and sparking off his hair.

Her eyes traveled down to his hands, one dug into the ground, the other resting on one knee. Both hands were clenched into fists and the look in his eyes was of despair mixed with horror.

The look of someone about to watch everyone and everything they ever cared about die, knowing there wasn't a single thing they could do to stop it.

Resignation settled over her. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way; perhaps she'd never really gotten away to begin with but simply delayed the inevitable.

A rogue breeze, heavy with cold and an odd smell of staleness, slid around her legs and twirled up her body. A second later it swirled around her shoulders and head and then vanished up into the night sky.

"Swear you'll kill them."

"What?" Thorin asked and Bilba resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly, with him being such a smart ass, she'd made the assumption he was SMART.

She stood up and turned to face him and he did the same, a slightly confused look on his face. Her Took side took over and she found herself putting her hands on either side of his face, fingers tangling in his braids and hair, drawing him forward and pressing her forehead against his.

"Swear," she whispered, her eyes locked on him. "Swear to me you'll kill them."

She didn't clarify why she was demanding the oath. He didn't ask. He simply stared at her. He barely knew her and owed her nothing, certainly not an oath. He was the exiled King; she was nobody.

"I give you my word as King under the Mountain." Thorin said his voice every inch that of a future ruler. "They will not leave this clearing alive."

"I hold you to your oath, oh King." Bilba replied. "Be ready."

She turned away. Behind her Thorin said something, probably wanting to know what he'd just given his oath in return for. Bilba didn't give him a chance to figure it out.

She also didn't give herself a chance to second guess.

Dropping to a low crouch, she darted forward, skirting the edges of the clearing until she stood at the entrance to the little channel leading to her friends.

She stayed low, trying to breathe slowly and regularly. Her legs began to complain almost immediately, not used to being held in such a position for so long, but she ignored them.

She was a Hobbit, a creature who could be almost entirely unseen if so desired.

She so desired.

Carefully she crawled forward, keeping against the rock on one side and out of the light as much as possible. The stone scraped against her, catching on her clothing and driving sharp edges into her back.

She tried to both simultaneously watch what the Trolls were doing and not look at them at the same time. She didn't think she could handle looking straight at them from this close.

She reached a small bush and tried to fit her entire body behind it. The small fronds swept at her face, bringing up an itch in her skin she had to grit her teeth against. To her left lay Balin who, to his credit, didn't so much as twitch when she began to creep around the bush, keeping it on her left and the rock on her right.

A second, much smaller bush, stood perfectly between Oin and Kili and she carefully slid her hands through the dirt, pebbles and rocks sliding over her fingers, lowering her body till she was nearly prone. Her palm stung as dirt mixed in with the cuts there and she vaguely worried about infection, not that there was anything she could do about it.

The muscles of her calves were screaming at her and trembling as they struggled to hold her in the position she wished. A cold sweat prickled at her skin and she swallowed past the feeling of bile in her throat as her body threatened to betray her.

At the fire one of the Trolls suddenly looked toward her and Bilba froze, lowering her eyes lest the firelight flicker off the pupils.

She held her breath and dug her fingers into the dirt. Her legs were ready to drop her outright and it was only through sheer force of will that she stayed up.

"He's looking away again."

The words were bitten out in a low whisper, nearly too low for her to hear. Bilba looked up to see that Gloin had moved, pushing himself up and back so that he provided a perfect shield for her to slide behind and still reach Kili.

Whether he knew what she wanted, or simply desired to protect the young Prince, she didn't know but she could have hugged him either way.

She pushed up; biting back a whimper at the pain it caused her overtaxed muscles, and slid behind his back, tangling a hand in his shirt to keep her balance.

Bofur, too, pushed up and moved, trying to help block her from view as best as possible.

On the spit several of the others had noticed what was going on and, as one, began shouting abuse and other things, soon capturing the attention of all three Trolls. Nori began to lecture them on, of all things, the proper way to cook Dwarf, his tone scolding as though being roasted on a spit was the greatest of insult to fine dining. The situation was so absurd Bilba had to bite back a laugh, albeit a somewhat hysterical one.

Bilba fumbled with the tie at Kili's neck, loosening it finally and slowly pushing down the neck of the sack.

He slid backward, leaving the sack over Oin's legs, and working his way out behind Gloin and Bofur. Bilba moved as well, going back to the smaller of the two bushes to give him room.

Once out, Kili immediately tried to loosen Gloin's sack but Bilba stopped him with a hiss. He looked at her, startled, and she gestured back toward the forest. He shook his head and she made the motion again, this time pointing toward where she'd left Thorin.

She couldn't explain things to him and resorted to simply trying to plead with him using her eyes.

This was NOT the time for him to start acting like his uncle.

Kili looked out, toward the fire, and Bilba saw Fili looking back at him. They must have done that weird mental communication thing of theirs because, after a moment, Kili gave a slight nod and turned to go.

Thank the Valar for Fili then. It would seem at least ONE had escaped the stubborness that seemed inherent in the line of Durin.

He gestured at her to go ahead of him but she simply drew back a bit further, giving him room to move. His eyes narrowed but he slid past her without further comment, probably assuming he'd clear the way for her.

Bilba turned her head to watch him go and saw Balin studying her. He made a gesture, indicating she should follow Kili.

She shook her head and looked toward the weapons.

As she'd thought, they were in the open, no cover anywhere. She looked back toward Balin and saw his eyes widen in horror. Movement caught her attention and she saw Kili at the very edge of the clearing about to vanish into shadow. He was also staring at her with a horrified look, one hand up as though he'd been gesturing for her to follow.

Bilba swallowed and then sidled past the Dwarves until she was crouched at Gloin's side and just behind Bofur. Another step and she'd be in full sight of the Trolls.

"Don't," Bofur hissed. He shifted, trying to move his body to block her back against Gloin.

Bilba patted him on the back and then slid out into the open.

And just like that one of the Trolls was turning straight toward her.

Her blood froze in her veins and her breath caught in her throat. How could they have possibly seen her that fast? How?

The Troll loomed over her, arm reaching, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Nothing happened and she risked opening one a bit, to see the massive arm over her, reaching for something behind and to one side. The stink of the thing hit her, making her nose run and her eyes water. She looked up, her eyes traveling up the dirty scrap of cloth it used for clothing, two strips crossing over its thick shoulder like suspenders.

Belladonna fell to her knees, hands clasped in front of her. She begged for the life of her son, not with elegant speech and flawless logic but with broken words, dredged from a mind frozen in panic and desperation.

The roaring started up in her head again, dragging her down, and her body began to tremble from more than just the exertion.

The Troll began to move back, bringing some kind of weird salt shaker thing with it and, as it did so, it started to naturally look downward.

"HEY!"

Bilba started.

The Troll looked over its shoulder toward Fili, where he was straining to keep eye contact even as the spit continued to turn.

"HEY!" he shouted again, "I'm not done talking to you, you maggot infested monstrosity!"

"Wot's that?" The Troll turned and focused entirely on him, as did the other two. The rumble of its voice cut through her, raising bile in her throat she had to choke back down.

Another of the Trolls looked at Fili quizzically.

"Wot's that word?"

Fili gleefully explained, Dwalin joining in, and soon the Trolls were arguing with them again and not paying attention the rest of their captives.

Bilba sagged onto the ground, her body cold and breathing suddenly difficult.

She forced herself back up a moment later and dragged her body over to the pile of weapons, hunching behind them as much as possible.

For once luck seemed to be with her as the bow lay right on top with nothing interfering. She slid it down the back of the pile without it making much noise, and turned to leave.

She saw the sequence the second it began to happen and knew there was absolutely no way to avoid it.

The Troll at the end of the spit, the one who barely wore a loincloth and nothing else, began to rub at its nose.

Bilba caught the movement out of the corner of her eye.

Time seemed to slow down.

The expanse between her and the others seemed to open to an impossible distance.

Her head turned, just as the Troll began to sneeze, its head jerking to one side.

On the spit the Dwarves all began yelling frantically but it didn't help.

With only seconds to spare, Bilba twisted her body and flung the bow as hard as she could. It flew past the campfire, barely made it between two trees, and vanished into the dark.

A moment later she turned back to find the Troll looking right at her.