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The battle of the rock giants crashed overhead. Bilbo hid his head in his arms, too breathless with fear to shout or exclaim as the others did. He didn't need to look up to know that he was getting looked at again by Dwalin and Thorin. Ever since their stay in Imladris, something had changed. Something had shifted. Oh Bilbo was still getting the sharp orders and chivied to hurry his steps, or do better with his chores – which, he would like to point out that he was the second best cook in the Company, thank you very much! He'd like to see Dwalin or his great majesty pull together a crumble with their cram and the berries they collected on their walk through the woods. Bombur hadn't been able to do that! That was Bilbo! Take that! Ha!
Still, something had changed. The disdain and affront had lessened by quite a degree. Bilbo still wasn't sure why . Being found by Thorin when Elrond was expressing his worry that Durin's line would fall to madness...that had been awkward. Bilbo hadn't really known what to do. There was no rule or polite response in the Shire for situations such as that. So he'd simply...patted the Great Brooding One on the arm, told him that his family's past did not have to dictate his future and that Bilbo had quite the same reaction when he was told that his great Aunt Muriel had stolen Bilbo from his parents when he was a faunt and put him out into the Old Forest to 'test his metal' as his Great Aunt would say. And my my did Bilbo's mother test Great Aunt Muriel's metal...with a sword, a rake and Bilbo was fairly sure there was a shovel in there somewhere, he just couldn't remember where.
As far as encouraging speeches went, it was a poor one. But for whatever reason it did seem to cheer Thorin up.
After that, Bilbo found himself pulled into the dinners their Company had more often. He wasn't 'forgotten' and left on his own to find himself a meal (which wasn't that hard, Bilbo had met a lovely elf in the kitchens who had told him where the best reading spots in Imladris were). Still, after one or two meals like that after said pathetic speech, Dwalin of all of the Company had been the one to come and find Bilbo and herd him back to the rooms they had been given for their stay.
Strange. Very strange. Bilbo still didn't know what to make of it.
He hadn't quite known what to do with himself when he was included in those dinners. He didn't know any songs the dwarrow would like and his best jokes really did rely on hobbit sensibilities to understand. After all, he didn't get more than a strained chuckle after telling the story of Lobelia's quest to rid Bilbo of his spoons – which, if one was a hobbit, then one would understand just how silly that was and that there was no call to label Lobelia a tart or a flirt. The good matron was married! To Bilbo's cousin! Really, he did not understand what went through those rock-hard heads sometimes.
And then there was the bed drama. For the love of little apples, Bilbo did not understand how he could possibly be in danger in Rivendell! There were elves! Very old elves! Warriors even! Why he'd seen one of them glowing right before they left, but Bilbo still wasn't sure why the elf in the dark robe was covering his eyes and muttering about honey, of all things. The glowing one – called Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, how poetic! – was quite happy to show Bilbo to the library...right until the one called Erestor cut him off and took over, instead. As it turned out, Erestor was the one Bilbo had met in the kitchens and they'd had quite the spirited talk about the books in the library until Dwalin came to drag Bilbo away.
But back to the bed drama. After Dwalin had escorted Bilbo back to their wing of rooms, Thorin had decided that Bilbo needed a minder – of all things – and that he should be sleeping in the same room as Thorin and Dwalin! Bilbo felt like his toes were going to catch on fire. He was in no way threatened by Erestor! Dwalin made it out like Erestor was about to abscond with Bilbo in some nefarious way – and the only nefarious thing going on during their talk was Bilbo's recommendation on how best to short sheet a bed! How was that dangerous? It was not, thank you and good morning.
Back in the present, Bilbo would have rather liked to be absconded by Erestor than being in the middle of a battle between two rock giants who were hurling giant boulders at each other. How was this exciting. He did not understand how the youngsters were full of excitement and cheering. There was no need to critique the giants' form! None at all!
It did not help that despite the clash going on above their heads, both thunder, lightning, and a snow storm were raging. What madness. Bilbo wanted to go home now, thank you. How were they going to survive this? It seemed impossible.
“This way!” Came Gandalf's voice above the booming thunder and the crash of rocks. “Quickly now! This way!”
Bilbo managed to look up and get rain in his eyes. He rubbed his fists against his face but the burning did not stop. He squawked when he felt something – or someone – grab the back of his jacket and lift. He flailed and heard Kíli laughing, and then Bifur say something in that foreign tongue of theirs. Bilbo really wished he understood more than a word or two here and there. It was a tricky language to pick up, as hard as a hobbit's home-talk in some ways. No matter how he asked, none of them would help him with it. Said it was sacred. Which, Bilbo would like to point out, if it was so sacred, why did they talk in it all the time around him? Eh? Sacred was home-talk and Bilbo had resisted many a relative's attempt in getting a few words out of him of his mother's complicated tongue. Everyone knew the Took line had the hardest dialect. Bilbo had learned it well at his mother's knee.
Anyway. Rain. Eyes. Someone carrying him. Bilbo was so put out.
Quick enough the Company found the cave Gandalf had scouted out. They all piled in and by the time Bilbo managed to get his eyes working again, Gandalf had disappeared to have a talk with the giants – for whatever reasons wizards do anything – and Bilbo found himself squished between Dwalin and Thorin in the very back of the cave.
By the curls on his feet, he was going to die from embarrassment.
There wasn't much room in the cave. Bofur and Bifur had been set as the guards of the entrance. It was quite tricky, the way the cave worked. Almost the entire entrance was blocked by a massive boulder. How Bombur got his girth through the opening was a mystery. There wasn't much room left, after that. Gloin and Óin made sure no run off of the storm got further into the cave. Fíli and Kíli were doing something with the fire. Bilbo hoped there was some sort of opening in the ceiling or they were all going to get smoked out in a flash. Dwarrow weren't that silly, were they?
“Are you injured?”
And then there was Thorin and Dwalin. The two of them, whom Bilbo had found out were married, and really in what world was it appropriate for Bilbo to share a room with them after that? He'd tried to reason with Balin but the old dwarrow had patted his shoulder and said it would all work out. And then something about metals, which really, Bilbo did not understand at all.
He had a dreadful feeling someone had misunderstood something about his Great Aunt Muriel and Bilbo couldn't figure out what it was.
“Burglar?”
“My name is Bilbo, thank you,” he managed to get out. He wanted to throw some elbows to get some room but his mother would rise up right out her berry patch and pinch his ear if he did. One did not throw elbows at almost-strangers. Even if they were warm, comfortable, and did not snore as loud as you thought they did. “I am fine,” he said, belatedly, ignoring the way his cheeks and his toes went warm.
“Ye were rubbin' at yer face,” Dwalin said. Why did they pick now to be observant? “What 'appened?”
“Rain,” he said, dry as dust. “It does like to get places where it shouldn't.”
Then there was a hand on his chin and what was Thorin doing? A married man did not touch another person's face! Much less on the chin! At this point the entire Baggins line was going to rise up and Bilbo did not need that kind of stress. Thank you very much.
“Your eyes are red,” Thorin said. Bilbo wanted to snap back at him but he found his mouth had gone quite dry. And his mind quite blank. Then Thorin's face did something complicated – not quite his constipated-I-am-lost expression but close to it – and just as Bilbo feared he was going to have to do something drastic, Balin was there, separating them all and pulling Bilbo to his side while Dwalin growled something at his brother that Bilbo understood less than half of.
He wasn't quite sure how the property of them and blessed metal meant anything, but by the look Balin sent both Thorin and Dwalin, it meant something to them.
Then the floor fell in and really, the absolute nightmare of the goblins and the caves and that thing by the lake happened and by the end of it all, Bilbo wanted to go home.
And then he was hugged. By Thorin. And Dwalin. And he didn't want to go home so much anymore.