The first howl hadn't even ended before Bilba had her ring out and on her finger.

Given the number of times they'd faced death on this quest she was seriously considering putting it on and never taking it off again.

She turned and saw orcs and wargs pouring out of the woods behind them.

Glorfindel stepped up next to her, his sword already drawn.

"How many do you think there are?" Bilba asked.

He frowned in concentration a moment before answering, "At least thirty, not counting the wargs they ride."

"Huh," Bilba said. "Only thirty? What will the rest of us fight?"

He grinned at her. "I could save you a warg or two if you like."

"That's very generous of you," Bilba said solemnly, "but I'm afraid Thorin may see it as condescending. You know how he feels about elves, he's convinced you spend every waking moment thinking of ways to irritate him."

"That's just absurd," Glorifindel said. "We only spend every OTHER waking moment doing that." He shrugged. "Oh, well. He'll just have to find own then."

And with that he was gone, racing toward the oncoming group.

A loud roar sounded and Bilba felt her blood run cold as none other than Azog appeared from out of the trees. Her breath caught in her throat and she shakily jerked her sword from its sheath, her fingers nervously twitching on the hilt.

"Bilba?" Kili's voice sounded and Bilba turned to see him with an arrow nocked to his bow, though the tip pointed at the ground. "Where are you?"

Bilba moved to the side of the path, making a note that getting possibly run over or shot by your own people was definitely a downside of the ring.

As she did she caught sight of Thorin. His eyes were fixed on Azog, an almost trancelike look in his eyes. His sword was drawn but hung nearly lax in his hand.

Oh, for the love of –

"Hey Thorin!" she shouted, "I see your boyfriend's back! Try to restrain your enthusiasm this time, all right?"

She saw him twitch, his eyes darting toward her location. Fili, Kili and Dwalin also all turned to look at him. Dwalin leaned in to growl something and Thorin snapped back irritably but she saw his eyes clear and his grip tighten on his sword.

"I'm clear by the way," Bilba continued, "unless you all planned to just watch Glorfindel have all the fun."

As she said it Glorfindel sliced through the neck of the seventh or so warg he'd killed. Most of the group had focused on him but the elf appeared almost bored, his expression similar to what she'd expect from him on an afternoon walk rather than cutting through an orc pack.

"Well why didn't you say so?" Kili said, his voice jubilant. He lifted his bow and let the arrow fly. It struck home, driving deep into the head of an orc.

That seemed to remind two of the orcs that they too had bows and arrows and Bilba soon found herself ducking as several of them flew over her head.

Thorin gave a war cry, something about axes and dwarves, and then the entire Company was thundering past her to engage the pack.

Azog hung near the back like the coward he was, avoiding the battle while his minions did all the fighting. He held his mace in one hand and Bilba felt herself shiver, mind flashing back to the crack it had made as it connected with Thorin's face, the fear she'd felt realizing she was facing it alone.

"Halfing!" Azog roared suddenly.

Bilba pulled back into the treeline and pressed against a trunk.

Why did Azog want her?

Her eyes traveled to his stomach where she could see a thick, new scar cutting across the muscle, twisted and jagged.

"Halfling!"

Thorin sent a boot into the stomach of an orc, dropping it and following up by driving his sword through its skull.

"Your fight is with me, Azog!" He roared.

Azog's attention shifted and he smiled at Thorin, his lips pulling back in a sneer.

"Does the Halfling matter to you, Durin? Would it pain you to see her suffer? To watch her die?"

Thorin snarled. He couldn't understand what was being said, because Azog was an idiot and seemed to enjoy switching to Black Speech for his insults, but he got the tone, not to mention his name and Halfling. He moved forward but found his way blocked by more orcs.

An arrow whistled past Azog's head, barely missing him as, by chance, the giant orc moved at the last second. Kili, standing to the side, cursed and readied another one.

By this time it was obvious what direction the battle was headed. Thirty orcs and wargs were no match against the Company and Glorfindel. Already several of the Company had bowed out and were standing to the side, watching as the remaining orcs were dealt with. Bofur had actually gone to lean against a tree and was idly carving a block of wood while Ori sat at his feet and scribbled rapidly in his journal, no doubt chronicling the events.

Azog looked...annoyed to say the least. As Glorfindel began to draw near to him he finally snarled a retreat in Black Speech. His own warg appeared from off the side of the path and he mounted it in one leap. As it turned to go he looked over his shoulder and somehow directed his attention straight toward her even though there was no possible way he could see her.

"Your time will come, Halfling. I will have Oakenshield watch you die and force him to wear your skull as I slaughter his kin! He will beg for death in the end!"

The words scared Bilba, of course they did. They would have scared anyone. She had spent far, FAR too much time with Thorin Oakenshield of late, however, and, as such, her sense of self-preservation had become somewhat lessened.

Which is why, instead of keeping her mouth shut like an intelligent Hobbit, she found herself channeling a particular, suicidal, idiot dwarven King.

"Really?" She called out in Black Speech, "isn't that a little excessive? You don't have to go that far to get him to beg for death, just talk for a while. The sound of your voice is so grating it's a wonder your followers haven't killed themselves in despair already!"

Azog roared in rage, his face twisting in hatred. He began to turn his warg back again. Bilba felt her eyes widen and she pressed back harder against the tree, her feet to frozen to move.

An arrow slammed into Azog's shoulder, followed by two more to his chest. Bilba doubted they did much damage as the orc's chest was almost solid, thick muscle, but it was enough to make him think twice about coming after her.

Kili was already nocking another arrow, swearing about having to use so many of his rapidly dwindling supply. Azog fled, vanishing into the trees before Kili could aim again. The rest of the orcs followed quickly behind, soon leaving the Company alone on the path, panting to recover.

Bilba pulled her ring off and darted forward, flinging herself up into Thorin's arms as he turned to face her. He kept one hand on his sword, holding it to one side, but wrapped the other one around her waist, holding her up. Bilba wrapped her arms around his neck and happily kissed him. She could feel his chest heaving beneath his armor and a slight tremor ran through him as the battle adrenaline faded.

"What did you say to Azog?" He asked, his eyes piercing.

"Nothing," Bilba insisted innocently, "he's just sensitive."

From a few feet away Kili muttered, "Sensitive? Tell that to my arrows." He sighed, counting the remaining four he had left as though he could magically make them multiply.

Bilba refocused on Thorin, feeling quite happy. It was the first time they'd had a battle go so convincingly in their favor with no one almost dying, or being thought dead.

"So, my King," she said, "have you brought me the head of your enemy as a gift?"

Thorin's eyebrows rose. "Did you WANT the head of my enemy as a gift?"

He sat her feet back on the ground as he spoke and walked a few feet to clean his sword on the grass. Bilba followed him.

"It might be helpful," she said. "I think it would look excellent on my mantle in Bag End. It might make some of my more obnoxious relations treat me with a bit more respect, don't you think?"

Thorin, kneeling in the grass, paused a second before continuing gain. Bilba frowned, noticing the sudden tension in his back. What was – oh. She'd been so happy she'd forgotten the very, very large obstacles still in the path of their relationship.

Like the fact he'd be staying in Erebor if they succeeded while her home had always been in the Shire. He would never be able to leave Erebor after reclaiming it; his responsibilities would be too great.

As for her, could she see herself giving up the Shire to live in Erebor? Letting Bag End, the home her father built her mother, go? The Shire and Erebor were on opposite sides of the map, it was not a trip she could make on a whim when she got homesick and wanted to visit.

Thorin stood up and turned to face her.

"Why just a head?" he asked, his smile slightly forced. "I could have an entire orc stuffed for you and you could place it at the front entrance as a greeter for your relations."

Bilba grinned, hoping it reached her eyes. Clearly he'd decided to put the thoughts away and she should too, she decided. She shouldn't get so ahead of herself. After all, they could both still wind up being eaten by a dragon.

"That would certainly give Lobelia pause at least," she said. "Perhaps she wouldn't visit as often."

"See," Thorin said, "and all you had to do was put the stuffed corpse of an orc in your doorway."

"Amazing what a little creativity can accomplish," Bilba agreed, amused. She reached out and grasped his forearms before pushing up on her toes to kiss him.

She lowered herself back to her feet and turned to see the rest of the Company cleaning up and dragging the bodies off to the side of the trail. Behind her, Bilba heard Thorin sheathing his sword.

Fili and Kili began arguing about the risks to the forest if they burned the bodies and Thorin swore and moved past her to go stop his heirs before they started a war with Thranduil.

Not that Thorin would have a problem with a war with Thranduil, Bilba thought. He would just probably like to be out of the forest first.

Looking around Bilba noticed a number of weapons and other bits of equipment dropped by the orcs during the skirmish.

A thought occurred to her and she looked back down the path, away from the commotion. She could see a number of arrows lying about the path, orcs had terrible aim as it turned out, and she headed toward them. The least she could do was get a few more arrows for Kili.

She knelt by the nearest one and reached out to pick it up, only to find her wrist seized and held in Glorfindel's grasp.

"Don't," he said grimly, "that's a Morgul shaft."

Bilba frowned at him. "Really? I thought those were just myths."

"They are very real," Glorfindel said. "They come from Mordor and carry the curse of that land with them. If you receive a wound from a Morgul shaft you will die, painfully."

"The legends say you become a Wraith," Bilba muttered, "and you wouldn't be able to receive a wound like this because it would disintegrate as soon as you touch it."

"Those are Morgul blades," Glorfindel explained, "shafts are simpler, and deadlier in many aspects."

Bilba studied the weapon. It was large, longer than the arrows Kili had made for her when she'd been training with him. She imagined even Kili, with his greater height and longer reach; would have some trouble drawing it back. The entire thing was dark iron and black wood. It looked evil but she'd assumed that was simply from being an orc weapon.

"Mordor," she whispered now. "What is a weapon of Mordor doing here?"

Around her the air seemed to grow still, the birds falling silent in the branches. It was as if the very earth itself held its breath awaiting the answer.

"I don't know," Glorfindel said, "except that it means things are farther along than I had thought and I've tarried far too long." He began to push to his feet. "I must leave and rendezvous with Gandalf, immediately."

Bilba barely heard him. She studied the arrow, her mind working. She was beginning to get the first germs of an idea, one so incredibly stupid and reckless even Thorin would probably be stunned to hear of it.

Still, though, it was the first idea with even the slightest possibility of success she'd had...and if there was even the REMOTE chance...

She removed her coat. She laid it out on the floor and carefully picked the arrow up, being careful not to touch the tip of the arrow, and laid it on her coat.

"What are you doing?" Glorfindel asked.

"I have an idea," Bilba said. She stood and began carefully collecting other arrows. Many of them were damaged beyond further use, others were sunk so deep into trees she'd be unable to remove them without breaking them. In the end she wound up with only three usable arrows, counting the one she'd picked up off the ground.

"Here." A large swatch of Glorfindel's cloak appeared in her vision, "wrap the heads."

Bilba nodded her thanks and obeyed, using the knife Fili had given her to cut strips that she wrapped around each arrowhead. Afterward she rolled them up inside her coat and tied the arms around the packet to secure it. She took her pack off and used the straps on it to tie the bundle to the top before sliding it back on her shoulders.

She straightened and noticed the others finishing up and beginning to make their way toward her. Glorfindel was studying her, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

Bilba sighed. "I'm an adult, no matter how young you think I am. I can make my own decisions."

"I wouldn't think Oakenshield would allow it."

Bilba rolled her eyes. "He doesn't ALLOW anything. Besides, what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"But it may kill you."

Bilba's eyes narrowed. Behind Glorfindel the rest of the Company had arrived but had paused, silently, sensing something unusual was going on. "Tell me, Glorfindel of Gondolin," Bilba said in Sindarin, "with Morgul weapons leaving Mordor, how much danger does Middle Earth face?"

"Much," Glorfindel said instantly, "and more if I do not warn those who might be able to stop it."

"And how much greater would the danger be if a dragon were thrown into the mix?"

Glorfindel made an annoyed sound. "I shall return. If you but wait for me--"

In other words, for him to go from dragons not being his business to offering to come back and kill it, the answer was the danger would be MUCH greater.

They both knew she couldn't wait for him. It would take months to travel to Rivendell and many more for him to return. In that time Durin's Day would pass and entry into the mountain would be denied them for another year, a year in which whatever darkness Glorfindel feared would have time to grow and spread in strength and power.

Bilba was beginning to realize the quest went far deeper than just getting Thorin his throne back. She thought back to Gandalf's disappearance, followed by Radagast's, to the rumors she'd heard, to the darkness hanging over Mirkwood and the orcs who hunted them with weapons originally crafted by the dark lord himself.

She didn't have all the pieces. She didn't fully understand what was going on, but she did know that, whatever it was, Smaug would make it ten thousand times worse.

Which meant Smaug had to die.

If she'd thought Thorin would throw a fit over her going in to retrieve the Arkenstone, she could only imagine what he'd think about her new plan.

She locked eyes with Glorfindel, steel running through hers. Middle Earth was her home too, every bit as much as it was Glorfindel's, and she had the right to fight to protect it. Even if that fighting involved being wildly suicidal and reckless.

Glorfindel sighed and then quietly bowed before her. When he stood back up, his eyes held an ancient grief, speaking of friends and loved ones lost to darkness.

"I am honored to have met you, Bilba Baggins."

Bilba curtsied back. "And I you, Glorfindel. May the Valar speed your travels."

"And may they bless yours," he returned, "until we meet again."

Hopefully.

She watched as he turned to take his leave of the Company. A moment after that and he was gone, vanishing into the woods surrounding them.

Thorin approached. "What was that about?"

"We were discussing the merits of insulting orcs who are actively trying to kill you," Bilba lied. "Apparently he doesn't agree with the practice."

Thorin's eyes sparked with amusement. "He isn't the only one." He nodded at her back. "What do you have strapped to your back?"

"Arrows," Bilba suppilied, "they're too damaged for Kili to use but I thought I'd take them back as souvenirs. They smell less than a stuffed orc would."

Guilt assaulted her at the lies falling off her tongue but she couldn't afford to let Thorin know her plans. He would try to stop her and Bilba had already come to the understanding that Gandalf's plan had merit. Dragons were curious by nature. Smaug would kill a dwarf outright but he would not kill her before knowing what she was first.

She hoped.

Thorin slid an arm around her waist and they began walking once more, every step bringing them closer to Erebor and the sleeping dragon within.

Bilba's eyes slid to Kili. She would need him but had no idea if he'd go along with her idea.

Her stomach clenched, the nausea rising once more and she struggled to calm herself, hoping it would go away if she could get her nerves under control.

If by some miracle this worked then, by the Valar, she was stuffing the DRAGON and putting him in her front entrance.

Let Lobelia try to harass her THEN.