Her head hurt, a dull, throbbing pain hammering against her skull.

Bilba groaned and struggled to pull herself to consciousness.

What happened?

As awareness filtered back she became aware that almost her entire body felt sore and battered.

She pulled her eyes open and caught a faint, fuzzy white glow over her head.

Her vision cleared slowly and she realized she was looking at some kind of lichen. It covered the ceiling over her head and cast a pale light into the dark around her. Parts of it were blocked and as her mind cleared more she found herself lying in the midst of a large patch of some kind of mushroom. She could feel crushed stalks and caps under her back but it appeared she must have fallen dead center as undamaged ones surrounded her on all sides.

Carefully she pulled herself to a sitting position, wavering as dizziness assailed her.

It was a stroke of luck, her mind hazily supplied; the mushrooms must have cushioned her fall and probably saved her life.

Cushioned her fall.

Had she fallen?

Memory flooded back so sharp she gasped, one hand going to her chest.

Fili and Kili and the rest...the last time she'd seen them flashed through her mind and she shut her eyes.

And then the cave and the floor...Dwalin and the Ri brothers being dragged away...

Her eyes snapped open.

Thorin had fallen with her.

Where was Thorin?

Panic rose in her and she scrambled to her feet. Dizziness hit her once again and she staggered, one hand going to the wall for support. Again she closed her eyes and forced herself to take shallow breaths, in through her mouth and out through her nose.

The dizziness began to fade and, with it, even more of the fuzziness in her mind.

For the first time she became aware of the faint noise of water and...her eyes narrowed...was that...singing?

The sound drifted in and out, starting and stopping. Oddly it was when the sound stopped and silence reigned that she found herself the most unnerved.

She stepped out of the mushrooms carefully. There was no sign of her sword or of Thorin. Had he woken up, not seen her in the mushrooms and gone to search for her?

Or maybe he did see you and left you anyway.

Bilba opened her mouth to call for him and then shut it again as she, again, caught the faint sound of singing. It didn't sound like Thorin but she had never heard of an orc or goblin that went around belting out music.

Another, fainter sound that she couldn't identify came to her. It was rhythmic, going in time with the singing as though the singer was keeping time somehow.

She shuffled forward, sliding one foot slowly in front of another. The lichen provided some light but it was dim and didn't fully illuminate the floor. She didn't want to risk tripping over Thorin, or something else, and alerting whatever it was that was singing.

Her toe connected with something cold and small on the floor, it clattered a couple inches and came to a stop. Bilba froze but the singing went on unabated and she relaxed. She dropped to one knee and put her hand out, feeling through the dirt and whatever else was on the ground. Her fingers connected with something and she lifted it up, holding it up into the light from the lichen as best she could.

A ring.

Bilba frowned in confusion, turning it in her hand. The ring was small and simple, a gold band with no writing or markings on it.

What in the world was a ring doing down here?

The singing, which had stopped at some point, started up again and Bilba flinched in surprise. She started to slide the ring into her pocket but, worried it could fall out, changed her mind mid-motion and put it on her finger instead.

For a second she could swear the world around her changed, grayed out and grew dimmer. She brushed it off; it was probably an aftereffect of her banging her head on the way down. For the first time it occurred to her to actually put her hand up, sliding it through her hair where the worst pain was. She flinched at the tender feeling and the obvious lump but could feel no split in the skin or blood.

She took a deep breath and started forward again.

The tunnel she was in was narrow and twisted sharply just ahead, blocking her view.

It appeared to be lighter up ahead and she hoped it meant there was an opening to the outside world.

The singing grew louder as she got closer and the second noise slowly defined itself in her mind as being akin to an object striking another object, though she couldn't tell what or why. It wasn't stone.

Something niggled at the back of her mind and cold unwound in her stomach.

WHERE was Thorin?

She edged around the corner and saw a large boulder jutting out in front of her, narrowing the tunnel.

The singing grew louder.

The cold hard lands...thunk...they bites our hands...thunk...they gnaws our FEEEEEET.

Bilba lowered herself to her hands and knees and crept up behind the boulder.

The rocks and stones...thunk...are like old bones...thunk...all bare of MEAAAAT.

The cold feeling inside was getting worse. She crawled to the side of the boulder and began to peer around.

The first thing she saw was Thorin's sword, the handle a mere foot or so away from her.

But stream and pool...THUNK...is wet and cool...THUNK...so nice for FEEEEEET!

She almost didn't comprehend what she saw next.

The tunnel opened into a massive cavern. A lake occupied most of it and lichen stained the walls in larger quantities, casting the entire area in a soft, silver glow. Near the edge of the water was a strange creature she couldn't identify. It was tall and very thin with almost no hair. It was dressed only in a loincloth and had pale, almost corpse white skin.

The creature was the source of the singing. It was straddling something and its other hand kept rising up and down, creating the rhythmic noise she'd been hearing.

It had stopped singing for the moment, focused on what it was doing.

Bilba watched and finally realized the creature was holding a rock, lifting it over its head and bringing it down again and again and again.

Her eyes went to the object it was straddling.

It was so dark, even the lichen didn't help with how gray and dark the area was. She could barely make out the object.

She studied it and, slowly, made out it wasn't an object at all but a form. Long, dark hair trailed out to one side, bits of light glinted off armor, the motion from the creature's arm lightly ruffled fur from a coat.

Bilba stopped breathing.

The creature was straddling Thorin.

The rock came back up, fell back down and, this time, the THUNK made a shudder run through her.

The noises, the sounds she'd been hearing had been the creature bludgeoning Thorin.

This whole time.

Since she'd regained consciousness.

Probably before. Thorin hadn't fallen there; he had to have been dragged.

The creature had been bludgeoning Thorin this whole time.

Which probably meant –

The rock rose again.

She couldn't tell if Thorin's chest was moving.

The creature started to sing again.

Bilba's mind whited out.

We only wish--

The scream of pure, unadulterated RAGE that ripped from Bilba's throat would have cowed a Balrog.

As it was the creature jumped a foot and fell off Thorin, scrambling to its feet and looking frantically for the source of the scream.

Bilba, by this time, had already come around the rock.

She grabbed Thorin's sword.

The creature was still looking.

Bilba charged across the sand.

THOSE DAMN TROLLS.

She raised the sword.

THE DAMN STONE GIANTS.

It still didn't seem to see her.

She didn't know why.

She didn't care.

DAMN GOBLINS.

She hadn't saved him.

She hadn't saved ANY OF THEM.

White hot tears of pure rage coursed down her face.

"YOU BASTARD!"

The creature jerked, finally looking in her direction.

It was far, far too late.

"YOU BASTARD!" Bilba shrieked again, the words near incoherent as they ripped from her throat.

She swung the sword and caught it in the side of the head with the flat of the blade.

The creature went flying, landing several feet from Thorin's prone body and rolling.

"DAMN YOU!" Bilba screamed, scrambling after it. "DAMN YOU DAMN YOU DAMN YOU DAMN YOU!!!!!!!!!!!"

Then she was standing over it and swinging the sword.

And swinging the sword again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

She screamed in rage and pain. Her body shook and hot waves of pure hatred flowed off of her. She swung the sword like an axe until the muscles of her arms shrieked at her. She swung until the thing beneath her stopped making any sound, stopped resembling anything that had ever been alive.

And still she swung.

It was the Trolls who'd slaughtered her parents, who'd taken Atherton and his mother and father, who'd taken her brother.

It was the Stone Giants who'd taken Fili and Kili and Bofur and Bifur and Bombur, Oin and Gloin and Balin.

It was the goblins who'd taken Dwalin and Nori and Ori and Dori.

And it was HER.

Stupid, PATHETIC, USELESS, HER.

Bilba, who couldn't save her mother, or her father, or Atherton, or his mother, or his father, or BUNGO, or Fili or Kili or Bofur, Bifur, Bombur, Oin, Gloin, Balin, Dwalin, Nori, Ori, Dori – or THORIN.

Everyone else died and she

Bilba who wasn't smart enough or good enough or simply ENOUGH to convince her mother not to just sit down and die.

Bilba who FAILED to save her family, who FAILED to save her second family, who stood by and did NOTHING while Thorin was MURDERED ONLY FEET FROM HER.

She dropped to her knees and a wail ripped from her very soul, echoing through the cavern.

Even then she continued to try and swing the sword. It was to long for her to swing from that position, however, and she was so exhausted it barely lifted an inch anyway but she didn't stop. Her chest heaved, her breathing was ragged and her head throbbed in time with her pulse.

She might have kept it up forever.

A groan sounded from behind her.

Bilba froze.

Another groan.

Bilba dropped the sword.

She whipped around. Dirt and stone ripped through her trousers and tore the skin off her knees but she didn't feel it.

Thorin still lay in the same place.

But now one hand was raised, pressed against his forehead.

It was like she'd been drowning and, at the very last second, someone reached in and pulled her out.

Bilba made a strangled sound and half scrambled, half ran to his side.

She dropped to the ground next to him, her hands touching his face and his arms frantically.

"Thorin? Thorin? Are you all right? Thorin?"

The side of his head sported a cut and blood splattered his face, matting his hair and beard. His eyes were open. Glazed, but open and Bilba couldn't help herself.

She cupped his face between her hands, bent her head and kissed him full on the lips.

It wasn't how she'd always pictured her first kiss going, it was a thousand times better. Because Thorin was alive and she hadn't failed yet AGAIN.

She pulled back and saw his brow furrow in confusion, his eyes tracking sightlessly. Fear gripped her, could he not see?

"Bilba?" Thorin waved a hand hazily. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here," Bilba said, fighting to keep the panic out of her voice. "Can't you see me?"

He grimaced. "I can see fine. I just can't see you."

He didn't comment on the kiss and she didn't either.

He struggled to push himself to a sitting position and Bilba lunged to help him, grunting with the effort of levering him up.

As she did he reached out and found her arm, frowning.

"What is this?" He said. "Why can I not see you?"

"I don't know," Bilba said frantically, her mind searching for the answer.

Now that she thought about it the creature hadn't seemed to be able to see her either.

What was – her mind went to the ring on her finger, it was the only thing that was different. Could it possibly be that?

"Hold on." She reached down and grabbed the ring, tugging it off.

Immediately the world around her sharpened and grew brighter. "It must have been this ring," she said holding it up. "I found it on the ground when I woke up."

She wondered if perhaps it had belonged to the creature and had been dropped while it had been dragging Thorin away.

She looked up to see Thorin staring at her, his eyes wide in horror. "Bilba!" He lunged forward, grabbing her arms. "Where are you hurt?"

"What?" She looked at him in confusion and then down at herself. Her clothing was absolutely drenched in blood.

Her arms and hands especially were soaked in black ichor. Orcs and goblins bled black she thought mildly, could it have been some sort of weird mutated version of one of them? She noticed her hands beginning to shake and her body felt cold as the adrenaline faded.

"I thought it had killed you," she whispered.

"You thought what had killed me?" Thorin said.

Bilba nodded past him. "That. It was hitting you with a rock." She spotted the rock in question and picked it up, showing it to him. "It just kept hitting you," she whispered, her eyes on the blood splattered on the stone. "Over and over and over again."

Thorin was in the process of turning around. He paused to glance at the rock. "I'm a dwarf," he grumbled. "We're carved from stone; it'd take a larger rock than that to kill me, or at least several hours worth of hitting me with it."

Bilba hadn't known that, but was grateful. Any other creature would have been dead.

Thorin was trying to struggle to his feet. Bilba got up and ducked under his arm, helping him as best she could and going with him over to the creature.

Or what was left of it.

"Bilba," Thorin started to say, his voice trailing off.

"I thought it had killed you," Bilba repeated. "I thought it was just me."

"Just you?" Thorin said. "Why would it be just--"

He remembered. She saw the second it happened.

Thorin's legs buckled and he dropped to his knees. The empty look was back in his eyes, his face blank.

Bilba glanced at him and then at the remnants of the creature. She wasn't sorry she'd killed it, it had been trying to murder Thorin and she'd acted in his defense and most likely her own.

She thought back to the person she'd been when she left the Shire. That Bilba would have been horrified. Even the Bilba from back when the Trolls had attacked would have been, HAD been horrified. She could still remember falling to her knees and vomiting afterward.

Now, however...now she was just grateful she'd finally been able to DO something besides watch everyone she ever loved and cared for die.

She knelt next to Thorin and tugged on his arm. "Come on, let's move, all right?"

He ignored her, back in the same catatonic state he'd been in before.

She sighed and left him to it. The blood was starting to get to her. She retrieved Thorin's sword and headed to the edge of the lake.

It took a long time to clean herself up and she couldn't help but think back to the last time she'd had to do this. The shaking grew worse until her entire body vibrated with it. Cold settled like ice in her bones. She wrapped her arms around her chest and rode it out, waiting until the tremors faded. Her eyes went to her arms, still splattered in blood and she sighed, it seemed it was her fate to spend her life covered in blood. There were people like that she knew, she'd read about them in stories as a child.

They always fell into two categories.

The villain, covered in the blood of the innocent.

And the hero, forced to spill the blood of evil to protect the innocent.

Bilba slid Thorin's sword over and began to wash the blood off it.

Hobbits were neither villain nor hero, they weren't covered in blood. They lived peaceful, quiet lives filled with family and friends.

She was nothing at all like a Hobbit.

If it really WAS her lot in life to be covered in the blood –

Her hands slowed to a stop as they cleaned the blood off the blade of the sword.

It that was her lot –

She'd fought it for so long.

She tried to be a good Hobbit, a proper Hobbit. Even when darkness and blood found her she'd tried to put it behind her and continue on, living in peace and quiet.

But then it came again and she couldn't even say it was fate.

She'd CHOSEN to go on this quest. She'd RUN to meet it.

Had she stayed in the Shire...

Why hadn't she stayed in the Shire? Didn't she WANT peace and quiet? She could have stayed, sent the dwarves on their way with a good meal and a wish for good fortune. She could have married Fram, raised a family in Bag End.

She kept fighting to be proper and have peace...but when she HAD it...she'd cast it aside the second adventure came calling, even though she knew where it always, inevitably led.

Bilba pulled the now clean sword from the water and laid it across her lap. Spots of blood still splattered her trousers, turning the brown fabric a rusty brown. It wouldn't come out no matter how hard she scrubbed. The Elves had gotten out the few spots she hadn't been able to clean from the Trolls and now she'd just gone and added more.

She studied the sword, her eyes running along the blade.

Maybe...

Maybe it was time to stop running away from who she was.

She'd tried to be a proper Hobbit and her family had died.

She'd tried to do everything right and her second family had died.

She'd picked up a sword and run to battle................................and Thorin had lived.

She thought of Atherton dying to protect her, followed soon by his father. She thought of Fili and Dwalin trying to teach her sword fighting, Kili trying to teach her archery, all with the idea of her being able to defend herself.

Everyone was always seeking to protect her.

Her fingers tracked lightly across the blade, tracing the runes etched into it.

She didn't want anyone to defend her anymore.

She didn't want to defend herself anymore.

She wanted to defend others.

If she was going to be covered in blood.

If she was actually going to seek it out herself.

She didn't want it to be the blood of the innocent.

She wanted it to be the blood of evil.

She wanted to save all the Bungos and Athertons, the Filis and Kilis and Thorins...all the people who SHOULD have been able to live lives of peace and quiet but who'd had those futures ruthlessly ripped from them by the hand of evil.

She didn't want anyone trying to spare her anymore.

She wanted to spare them.

She wanted to be the hero.