She didn't know how long she sat there. Something inside her had shut down, numbness spread through her body. Her mind felt sluggish as though just waking from a deep sleep.

Overhead, the clouds parted and moonlight cast a silver glow over the landscape. Around her the grass was crushed, bent from the passing feet of her friends.

Bilba's friends. She had few friends in the Shire she realized with a start, why had she never noticed that before? There was Seth and Priscilla, hopefully Fram but, beyond that, she couldn't really name anyone she'd count a friend. She could remember having plenty of friends as a child, running through the meadows, searching through fields in massive games of hide and seek, camping at night under the stars.

When had she lost them? When had she become so accepting of being alone?

Cold crept along her skin, a light breeze adding to the chill but she barely registered it.

A depression next to her leg caught her attention and she held out a hand to it, fingertips brushing against the smooth, bent blades of grass. It was where Kili had knelt, she thought. There was no warmth to the area, no evidence he'd been there other than the broken blades.

She wanted him to come BACK.

She wanted all of them to come back.

The break in the clouds vanished and darkness returned. The impression melted into it.

A roar broke out and her head snapped up.

Mother.

Father.

Bungo.

Atherton.

His parents, whose names were shamefully lost to her even then.

Shouting, unintelligible, but the panic unmistakable.

Trolls had taken everything from her.

They were about to take even more.

Another shout, and this time there was no mistake. Fili screaming his brother's name, the terror in his voice lancing straight through her.

"KILI!!"

Her mother's screams. In all the languages she spoke none possessed the words to properly convey that pain.

"BUNGO!!"

Something inside her burst.

Molten hatred, thick and cloying, ran through her nerves, whited out her vision, created a loud roaring in her ears. Her breathing increased and the temperature around her seemed to rise.

She HATED those foul Trolls. Their continued existence was intolerable, it could not be borne.

Her family was gone but Fili and Kili, Thorin, all the others WEREN'T. They were ALIVE, right that very second, breathing, THERE.

She would be damned if the Trolls took even a

SINGLE.

ONE.

Bilba set the bowls down and stood up.

Her sword was back at the campsite, she had no time to go back and get it.

She clenched her jaw; teeth grinding so hard together a headache bloomed behind her eyes.

She walked forward, her feet carrying her down the hill, her mind almost in a fog of near blind rage.

Flickering light from a campfire caught her attention around a slight curve and she followed it.

A voice boomed out, and her skin crawled, her hands clenching in fists so tight pain blossomed as her nails gouged her palms.

"Drop your arms, or we'll rip his off!"

Bilba stepped into the shadow of a tree and gazed on the scene before her.

Three Trolls, every bit as monstrous as she remembered. Two of them held Kili by the arms and legs, stretching him out between them. Sweet, funny, young Kili, who always tried to distract her with stories of the insane antics he and his brother got into, his face contorted by pain.

Toward the back of the group, standing in near shadow, Thorin stared at Kili with horror. Fili stood near the front, impotent rage and desperation showing in his eyes. His hands clasped the handles of his knives and his body kept going through minute spasms as he struggled to hold himself back from darting forward to save his brother.

Belladonna collapsed to the ground, hands clasped over her heart, sobs wrenching from her throat.

Sharp pain sliced through Bilba's right hand as her fingernails popped through the flesh of her palm. Instantly the area became slick, and rivulets began to run over her knuckles.

Thorin threw his weapon down. The sound caught the attention of the others who began to follow suit.

Slowly she walked through the bushes; her feet making no sound, until she'd circled behind where the Dwarves stood.

Blood splattered her face, catching in the folds of her dress, dripping down the sides of her cheeks, matting her hair.

Atherton's father, following in the footsteps of his son and throwing himself in the way as the rest of them ran.

She didn't look back that time either.

One of the Trolls threw Kili toward Fili. His brother caught him and the two fell together in a heap.

The Trolls weren't even hungry.

They were doing it for FUN.

Two of the Trolls were busy collecting weapons, bending down to pick them up and throw them to a pile at the side. They were also forcing the Dwarves to remove their armor.

The third Troll was busy pulling out sacks from near the campfire.

Her father's breathing, ragged and harsh.

The rain started then.

The roaring in her ears stopped. The rage receded and an unnatural calm settled over Bilba.

Rain on rocks and the sound of her mother's wretched sobbing.

Thorin was still near the back, standing close to a tree. The Trolls had forced them close together, crowding them, and he was shoved back even further.

I'm so sorry.

As Bilba watched he reached up and began to remove the ridiculous fur coat he always insisted on wearing. She'd teased him for it, citing how hot it must be and inquiring how often he was mistaken for a woman in a fur coat from the back.

I love you.

He loved the thing, however, and they had lost so much after all and had so little left.

Good-bye.

And now even that was being taken from him.

Rain on rocks.

"It cannot be borne," Bilba whispered.

And silence.

She reached forward, barely stepping from the trees, tangled a hand in the back of his coat and threw her entire body backward.

Thorin was a full head taller than her; she barely came up to the bottom of his jaw. In addition the Dwarf was much larger and more solidly built and was dressed in full armor.

Yet she still managed to drag him completely off his feet, barely darting out of the way herself as he crashed to the ground past the first several trees, fully in darkness.

Without hesitation, Bilba jumped up, threw herself partly over him to keep him from moving, and slapped a hand over his mouth. As she did she found herself burying her face against his neck, her body rigid as she waited for the Trolls to notice and react.

She felt his body tense, then still. The pulse in his throat beat a rapid staccato against her cheek and heat from his body leached through her clothing from where she touched him.

No reaction came. Bilba slowly lifted her head and dared to look.

The Trolls hadn't seen and there were so many Dwarves they failed to notice one missing.

The Dwarves, for their part, who couldn't fail to notice their leader missing, never so much as twitched. Dwalin and Bofur simply took two steps and filled in the empty space where Thorin had stood a moment before, never even pausing as they removed their armor.

One of the Trolls came forward with the bags and began forcing some of the Dwarves in, while the other two set a spit up over the fire.

Thorin put a hand over hers and tugged it away from his mouth.

Bilba stood up and placed a hand against the tree, staring out at the fire.

Thorin stepped up just behind her and braced his hand just above hers on the tree trunk. He lowered his head to her ear, whispering something but she had a hard time hearing him over the pounding of her own blood in her head. She finally turned to look, inadvertently bringing their faces within inches of one another. Once she would have blushed and jerked away but, at that exact moment, all she could see was hate.

Thorin looked at her with the oddest expression on his face, as though he'd never seen her before. He didn't repeat whatever he'd said and, after a moment, Bilba turned her attention back to the others.

At that moment the Dwarves were being either tied to a spit or tossed in a pile. The weapons were still near them and toward the bottom she could see the edge of Kili's bow and several of his arrows.

She staggered, collapsing to the wet ground and nearly taking her parents with her. Mud sucked at her feet, weighted her dress and tangled it about her legs. She sobbed and shoved a hand in her mouth, biting down hard in an attempt to muffle the sound.

Her father no longer spoke or made any sound at all. His feet dragged and his head was down.

On his other side her mother had a blank look on her face; she hadn't spoken in a long time either.

Bilba felt cold eating at her bones, sinking into her marrow. She got up but soon fell again, mud and rocks tearing at her knees and sending sharp pain shooting through her.

Ahead of her a granite wall rose up and, there, at the base, a small opening.

She turned to her mother to point it out and for the first time noticed that the blood on her mother never seemed to wash away, no matter how much rain fell.

"Can you shoot a bow?" She was surprised at how calm and level her voice sounded but, then again, her mother's had been level and calm too, at the end.

Thorin had been staring out at the same scene, his face set and angry, tinged with the barest hint of despair.

"What?"

Bilba repeated the question and Thorin nodded.

"I can, though I cannot claim Kili's accuracy."

Bilba nodded and pushed away from the tree, and him. "Stay here."

He frowned at her, his eyes narrowing. "What do you plan to do?"

She looked at him and, again, he got the oddest look on his face like he was seeing her for the very first time.

Bilba twisted her lips in a sick parody of a smile.

"Wait and see."