They were camped under a wide outcropping of rock. Most of the others, Thorin included, ate and went to bed immediately but Bilba found sleep eluded her.

She was getting close, so very close.

Fear and dread were her constant companions now.

She felt as though she stood before a closed door, knowing full well something hideous lay beyond it.

And any day now it would be opened.

She had no choice. She couldn't turn back, not now.

Nervous energy vibrated through her, and she got up anxiously, rubbing her hands together to try and calm them.

Fili and Kili were still awake and, desperate to derail her thoughts, she approached them and asked, "would either of you be willing to train me when you have time?"

The two looked at her in surprise, and she continued quickly. "Those two men in Bree caused me to think about it. I have no actual fighting experience against anything but targets, and certainly not against anyone bigger or stronger than me. I'd be worse than useless in a real fight."

Kili nodded. "Fili would be the best. He's an expert with blades."

"Sure," Fili said. "We can start now if you like."

It was almost as though they recognized she was trying to distract herself. Bilba could have hugged them. In fact she could have hugged the lot of them, even Thorin. Far from treating her as a burden, they'd accepted her, treating her journey to find the truth with respect and sympathy.

Bombur made sure she got the first meal at night while Balin always made sure she was comfortable. Bifur didn't talk to her much, but talked constantly to others, and Bilba took to listening closely to him, using his words to improve her own pronounciation and understanding of the language. Ori kept her occupied as much as possible with stories of Dwarven heroics. Oin talked to her about healing while Gloin talked to her about banking. Bofur had started trying to teach her to whittle, and Ori and Dori hovered around her when they thought she wasn't looking. Dwalin seemed less annoyed with her, or at least she thought so, and Thorin would regularly come to the back of the line to ride along with her. Often they would end up in some argument or another, and she wondered vaguely if he did it on purpose, to draw her out of herself. As they'd drawn closer to Rivendell he'd gotten more and more grouchy, annoyed at being forced to go to them for help. From what Bilba heard Gandalf had to practically twist his arm, literally, to get him to agree to go and, even then, it had been a near thing. She wished she'd been there to see it though, knowing her, she'd probably have jumped in the middle again.

Still, she couldn't resist endlessly ribbing the Dwarven King over having to go to ELVES for help reading OLD DWARVISH. The fact that Thorin hadn't outright killed her spoke volumes to his patience, though Bilba had eventually discovered a tiny ounce of self-preservation and finally let the matter go.

Perhaps the best part, however, had been Gandalf. He'd taken to sitting with her in the evenings, and telling her stories of the adventures he'd gone on with Belladonna, bringing her mother back to life, if only for a moment.

Now she worried about damaging her new friendships by rudely awakening them with the sounds of swordfighting. "Won't the noise wake up the others?"

Fili scoffed. "We won't actually fight tonight.We'll work on the fundamentals first, and move on from there."

Bilba agreed, and soon had Fili showing her the proper way to hold her sword, as well as the proper way to move her feet and hold her stance.

As she'd thought her own experience level was sorely lacking. Fili did eventually let her hold her sword, and gave her a fairly intense, and introductory, verbal lesson on how to fight foes of varying strength, size, and intelligence. Men, for example, were best fought by taking their legs out, getting them on the ground and dealing with them there.

"It's not about brute strength," he said, adjusting her grip on the sword hilt. "A fighter who fights smart is ten times more likely to win than one who just tries to overwhelm with brute strength."

He started to say something else, only to cut off as a shriek echoed through the night.

Bilba went rigid.

Inside her mind her mother began to sob again, the sounder louder than it had ever been.

Her breath ran shallow, and her mouth was suddenly dry. "What was that?"

Fili hadn't noticed her distress, looking out toward the darkness. "Probably a Warg."

"Which probably means Orcs right behind them," Kili said.

At the word, Bilba saw Thorin jerk, instantly awake. For a split second she saw a look in his eyes, like he was in another place and time, then he snapped back and turned to survey the dark.

Kili went on, making up a ridiculous story about Orcs attacking, probably trying to get her to laugh, clearly not noticing her, or Thorin's, distress. A sharp rebuke from his Uncle silenced him instantly.

He got up and stalked to the edge of the small cliff they camped on and, behind her, she heard Balin begin to speak of Thorin's past, and the reason for the deep pain in his eyes.

Slowly, Bilba lay her sword down, and made her way to Thorin's side. She stood next to him, her arms folded across her chest, and stared into the darkness.

"I'm sorry, about your grandfather, and your father and brother."

No wonder she recognized the pain she sometimes saw in his eyes. He'd lost as much as her and on the same day as well. More even when you took Erebor into account.

"It was a long time ago," Thorin said shortly. "I am over it."

That was a lie and they both knew it. There was no getting over something like that. There was merely learning to move on with a piece of your soul missing.

"The boys were merely being fools," Thorin went on. "We won't be harmed here."

"I know," Bilba said. "I'm fine."

Thorin didn't look at her, his eyes staring out into the black. "If that is so then why are you crying?"

Bilba lifted a hand to her face and found, to her surprise, it was streaked with tears.

"I don't know," she said. "I didn't realize I was."

She wiped furiously at her eyes, and took a shuddering breath.

Thorin made no move to leave, and she didn't either.

Instead the two of them stood quietly, each lost to their own memories, and watched the dark.

And in her mind Belladonna Took continued to sob, as though her heart had been torn in two.