Bilba had a sneaking suspicion they were lost.

Granted, it wasn't as though she could see anything to know for sure but, still, some of the twists and turns they were making felt awfully familiar.

She didn't have a ton of experience in running around under mountains, however, so she could be wrong.

But she didn't think she was.

She'd never asked how the whole dwarf ability to find the way to the surface thing worked. Was it a clear direction or more of a general sense?

Her mind went back to Thorin's ability to actually get lost in a place as small as Hobbiton, TWICE, and she sighed. They might be in the mountain a long time at this rate.

She opened her mouth a few times to ask him but immediately closed it again as her face heated. They hadn't spoken since...IT happened...and now the silence had dragged on so long it was AWKWARD, so painfully, painfully awkward.

What in the world had she been THINKING?

She could hear Priscilla now......no, scratch that, she could hear POPPY, which was a thousand times worse. She could just picture the other woman, her face twisted in a sneer, her syrupy high pitched voice, her stupid perfect curls and that dumb umbrella she always insisted on carrying perched over her head.

"What's wrong, Bilba? Finally figured out no man would ACTUALLY want you so you waited till you found one at his lowest and took advantage of his weakened emotional state?"

Bilba frowned, that wasn't exactly right. She was pretty sure Poppy wouldn't know words like weakened emotional state, much less be able to use them correctly in a sentence.

Much-Smarter-Than-She-Really-Was Poppy in her head had a point though.

Thorin's ring lay like a weight under her shirt. It bounced lightly against her breastbone as they walked and brought a pang of guilt every time it touched her skin.

Should she return it? Return it and apologize for her actions?

Her face went white hot as she remembered those "actions". To think she'd never even been kissed before leaving the Shire. She'd certainly come a long way since then.

Now she really could hear Priscilla's voice...and that wretched Lobelia. How many times had Priscilla spoken to her about chaperones and never being alone with a male, particularly one she was interested in?

"Remember, your emotions can get the best of you and you may end up doing something you regret later."

Perhaps Priscilla should have clarified; she and/or the guy she was with might do something they'd later regret.

And Lobelia, wrenching her by the arm any time she caught Bilba anywhere near a young boy, particularly as she'd entered her tweens, and hauling her off for a lecture.

"If you keep this up you'll be no better off than your mother! Everyone knows what SHE was really up to, gallivanting off on her so-called 'adventures' with that wizard. Leaving you and your poor father here all alone."

Though Lobelia's lectures were usually more an attack on her mother than anything else she usually repeated many of the things Priscilla did about being sure she was chaperoned.

She'd brushed them all off of course. Her emotions wouldn't get the best of her, she could control herself thank you very much.

Her shoulders slumped.

Way to control yourself, Bilba, her mind sneered. She remembered how she'd practically thrown herself at Fram, stalking him and desperately trying to impress him. Hadn't she JUST made the commitment to not be that person anymore? To no longer be pathetic but instead strong and capable?

And then poor Thorin, trying to work through the loss of the Company, the failure of the quest and the potential of being exiled, had mentioned her mistake over the braids and she immediately threw herself at him.

He probably offered the courtship because he felt obligated, especially after she'd offered him a place to live.

But you offered to let him take it back, a voice in her mind supplied. You gave him an out and he refused. He said he wanted to keep the braids.

That was true, but he hadn't exactly been in a great state of mind, had he? And, besides, he was honorable. He felt obligated. Stupid dwarves and their stupid honor codes.

It wasn't like he was in love with her. He'd barely paid any attention to her before the whole fall into the giant-cave-with-yet-another-creature-that-tried-to-eat-them thing. They'd talked a few times, sure, but he'd never shown the slightest hint he was attracted to her.

Bilba sighed again, one hand going up to clutch the ring where it lay under her shirt.

"Are you all right?"

Bilba flinched in surprise, she'd been so deep in thought she had almost forgotten Thorin was right there. How many times had she sighed?

She turned to face him and opened her mouth to answer, only to stop in surprise.

"I can see your face!" she exclaimed in excitement. Granted, it was dim, barely an outline, but it was definitely there. Even as she thought it her mind happily supplied her with images of what his beard felt like against her face, the press of his lips against hers....

Gah, she was going to DIE of embarrassment, simply DIE.

Thorin, the jerk, seemed entirely unaffected. He'd stopped in the middle of the tunnel, his hand still intertwined with hers as he guided them out...or deeper in and then back out, who knew for sure?

"We're almost to the exit," he said, "it won't be much longer."

That was good. They'd been traveling steadily up for quite a while and the strain of it was getting to her.

"Do you need to rest?"

"No," Bilba said immediately, "I just want to get out of this mountain before something else shows up to eat us."

Thorin chuckled and began walking again. Almost idly he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her away from an outcropping even though she could make it out for herself.

"Have you noticed just how many things in Middle Earth want to eat us?" Bilba continued. "Trolls, Orcs, Goblins, Wargs, that whatever-it-was back in the cavern. I've even heard tales of giant spiders in various areas of the world that, I'm sure, if given the chance would also try to eat us."

She was babbling like an idiot. Her mind kept begging her mouth to shut up but she seemed unable to stop now that the ice had been broken.

"This never happened before I left the Shire, you know. Only since I met you."

He looked at her and she pretended to turn her face away in a huff, hiding the heat radiating off of it.

"Are you actually blaming me?"

"It only seems to happen when you're around!" She glowered. "Honestly, though, what IS with the constant threat of being eaten?"

"I hadn't thought of it," Thorin said, "though you do have a point." He was silent for a second and then said, "you forgot Smaug, he would undoubtedly have tried to eat us as well."

"And that tells you something right there," Bilba said. "The fact that he he didn't even make my top ten list of things that want to eat us."

Mentally she smacked herself. Way to go, forgetting about a DRAGON of all things. Well, at least that was one thing they wouldn't have to face anymore. It was beginning to feel like she was on the Middle Earth Tour of Things that Eat Hobbits and Dwarves.

It wasn't an exceptionally fun tour; she doubted she'd recommend it once she got back home.

A faint odor hit her nostrils and she frowned, trying to place it.

"What is that?"

"I don't know," Thorin said.

They continued and the smell slowly grew stronger. It was acrid and Bilba's eyes began to water, while her throat felt dry and breathing became harder.

"Smoke," she said finally, "there must be a fire."

Thorin only grunted in reply. They were close enough to the surface that she could see him clearly. His face was blank but his brow creased as he strained to see what it was they would be walking into.

Smoke was beginning to drift in, creating a hazy look in the tunnel.

They rounded a corner and there, about fifteen feet ahead, bright light spilled through an opening in the rock. Bilba shut her eyes as the light seared them, waiting for them to adjust. Thorin stopped as well, waiting for her or perhaps he needed time for his own eyes.

When she finally opened them again the light didn't seem quite so bright and she could make out smoke drifting in and, beyond that, sheets of rain, the rock and ground outside drenched.

"Perhaps the rain put the fire out," she said.

"Perhaps," Thorin said. "Though fate does not seem to be in our favor of late."

He had an excellent point. Bilba started to move forward, planning to head out and see where they were, but Thorin didn't let go of her hand. Instead he tightened his grip slightly and pulled her back close to his side. Then, with his other hand, he drew his sword and crouched down slightly.

Bilba drew her own sword and got an amused look from him. She rolled her eyes back at him in reply.

They approached the exit together.

The fire had been massive. All Bilba could see for miles was scorched earth and blackened trees. In various spots she could see the flicker of flame as the fire continued to stubbornly burn in spite of the torrential rain.

"That was some fire," she said, keeping her voice low. "I wonder what started it."

"Lightning I would guess," Thorin said, his voice equally low. "We're fortunate to have been inside the mountain at the time.

Bilba gave him a sidelong look. Was he congratulating himself on his horrible sense of direction?

Thorin stood up and let go of her hand, stepping outside. Bilba followed, grimacing as cold rain immediately lashed her, soaking her in seconds. Her clothing stuck to her body and her hair was plastered to her head. She no doubt looked like a drowned rat.

Thorin, naturally, looked even more attractive soaking wet than he did dry, a fact Bilba found patently unfair.

He turned to say something to her and stumbled, his words tripping over one another.

Bilba raised an eyebrow, "what?"

"Nothing," he said, his eyes turning away from her, his voice gruff, "we should go."

Great, she really had made it awkward. Bilba glanced down and noticed, due to the rain, her shirt had stuck to her body enough to make the ring clearly visible under it. She pulled her coat around her as best she could and buttoned it up, hiding the ring. Thorin had probably seen it and remembered his mistake in giving it to her. She should just give it back immediately but things were already so awkward she couldn't bring herself to make it worse.

They were quite high on the side of the mountain, the ground sloping away from them in a steep grade.

"Do you think there might be a mudslide?" Bilba asked. "Because of the fire?"

Thorin's eyes narrowed. "We should get down as quickly as possible."

Not comforting. Given the height they were they wouldn't be getting down anytime soon. She nodded and they began to move. As they did Bilba studied the areas the fire had burned. It looked like they were near the tip of the fire's spread; the area they were heading into was scorched in a wider and denser area. As they worked over an outcropping of rock she caught sight of an area much further down where the fire damage seemed to be the worst. As high as they were she could see over the trees and saw the area was centered at the edge of a massive cliff. A number of trees had fallen over and, right at the edge, there was a massive hole as if a tree had been ripped right out of the ground.

She had no idea what could have caused it and put it out of her mind. Thanks to the rain the ground was muddy and slippery, forcing them to walk slowly. Even once the rain, thankfully, slowed to a heavy drizzle the ground remained treacherous. They also had to change direction several times to skirt around areas where the fire still burned.

They'd been walking for over an hour when a flicker of something by her side caught her eye. She looked down and froze.

"Thorin."

He followed her line of sight and cursed in Khuzdul. Bilba held her blade up, studying the pale blue light racing along the steel.

"Back to the tunnels," Thorin ordered, "hurry!"

Bilba nodded even as her mind considered the distance they'd covered and came to the conclusion they couldn't possibly make it back. Together they turned and began scrambling back over the rock they'd just crossed.

They'd almost made it to the top before the howl of a warg cut through the air behind them.

Thorin dragged himself onto the flat area on top and twisted to grab her arm and pull her up. Just as her feet cleared the edge Bilba felt the briefest brush of fur and something sharp scrape against the sole of her foot. Then Thorin had her on top and she turned just in time to see the head of a massive warg vanish as it fell back down out of sight.

Bilba stood up, her eyes wide and breathing ragged. Smoke was still heavy in the area and, with the exertion, her lungs felt tight and her throat burned as she dragged air in.

Several more wargs burst from the undergrowth and these sported orcs riding them. They rode forward and ringed the base of the outcropping they stood on. A few of the wargs tried to leap up but Thorin slashed at them with his sword and the creatures fell back with shrieks of anger and pain.

The orcs laughed, taunting them in Black Speech and Bilba felt her blood run cold. They were outnumbered. Even if they could kill the orcs they would still have the wargs to deal with and there was no way the two of them could kill them all.

She reached a hand up to grab the ring under her shirt, her other hand clutching the hilt of her sword.

She should have known there was no way they'd make it back home.

The orcs fell silent suddenly; the wargs moving back to crouch near the ones with riders.

Another warg appeared near the back of the group, massive and solid white. The orc that rode it was also white, his body rent with old scars and wounds. One arm ended at the elbow and had been replaced with a long metal spike with a claw at the end of it.

Bilba frowned, something about him seemed familiar.

Next to her, Thorin had gone completely still, his eyes wide with horror.

"Azog," he whispered, "it cannot be."

Azog? The name sparked a memory. Balin and a tale of death and destruction. The loss of a father, brother, grandfather and countless more. Her eyes went to the pale orc as he drew nearer.

"Azog?" she said. "THAT Azog? I thought he was dead."

Thorin didn't respond. He might as well have transformed back into the stone he'd been carved from.

Azog stopped in the center of the orc pack, smirking at them. He'd approached at an odd angle, Bilba noted absently, and even then kept himself and his warg turned slightly so they couldn't see his left side. Was he injured?

"Thorin," he snarled in Black Speech, "I thought I smelled Durin filth. The dwarf-scum you traveled with have abandoned you. They know better than to get between me and my prey."

Bilba's eyes narrowed. She thought back to the orcs that had chased them to Rivendell. Thorin had brushed them off as a random occurrence, a danger that came from traveling in the wild. Now, however, it would appear the attack might not have been so random at all.

"They did not abandon us," she snarled back, also in Black Speech. "They fell and, even in death, are a thousand times better than a dung heap like you."

Thorin gave a slight twitch next to her but was still not responding. He seemed to almost be in a trance, his eyes fixed on Azog, hand twisting on the hilt of his sword.

Azog studied her, his eyes amused. "Indeed," he growled, "they did fall, after I drove them from a cliff. No doubt they fled from Durin's blood after realizing his incompetence in battle." He cocked his head, looking at her. "What are you supposed to be? A pet he picked up along the road?"

"Better a pet than a cockroach," Bilba muttered absently. Her mind swirled at his words, what did he mean he drove them off a cliff? As Azog had spoken the taunt he'd looked over his shoulder, the direction he'd come from, toward that cliff where she thought the fire had started. Where several trees were knocked over and one appeared to be missing all together, as though a great battle had been fought.

Could it be possible? Could fate truly have been so cruel?

"I thought you said they abandoned us?" She said, refocusing her attention on Azog. "How can that be if you drove them off a cliff? You speak in riddles, O great Defiler. One would almost suspect you of having Elf blood."

The reaction was immediate. Azog roared in rage. Around him the other orcs and wargs cowered away though some of them also began yelling in anger.

Beside her, Thorin finally stirred, shaking out of the trance he'd been in.

"What did you say to him?"

"I may have called him an Elf half-breed," Bilba said.

Thorin looked startled. "Why?"

She almost didn't tell him. Azog could be lying.

Worse, Azog could be telling the truth.

To think, if any of them had survived, only to be killed by Azog.....her heart wrenched in her chest, so hard it brought physical pain.

Thorin would never forgive her for not telling him and she'd never be able to keep it from him. He'd mention the others and see the truth in her eyes, there was no possible way to hide it.

So she told him what Azog had said.

It the end, she should have lied.

Thorin's eyes went so hard they could have been cut glass and darkened to a near black. His breathing, already harsh due to the smoke, grew even more ragged and a tremor wracked his body.

Azog snarled. "Did you tell him, little pet? What I did to those foolish enough to follow him? How I crushed their bones and tasted their flesh?"

Bilba's head snapped back toward him, a cruel hope stirring inside her. He was most likely lying completely but...still...her eyes went to the cliff and she wanted to scream from the horror of ignorance.

"What did he say?" Thorin growled. His hand was clenched so tight on the hilt of his sword, the knuckles were white and his eyes were narrowed to slits.

Bilba translated, ending with "he changed his story, Thorin. I think he's lying."

Or he'd been telling the truth and embellished it on the second telling..............................................or he was telling the truth both times.

Azog laughed at her and Bilba shivered.

"You think I'm lying, little pet?"

Bilba felt her eyes widen, she hadn't known he could speak Common.

Azog reached behind him on the warg, grabbed something and threw it forward on the ground in the center of the group.

Bilba stared at it, her mind struggling to comprehend the broken bits of metal and wood, the shredded clothing.

Then she caught sight of the long curve of a broken bow and the shade of the beige strips of fur lying on the ground.

Kili's bow and part of Fili's coat.