Bilba pushed her way through throngs of celebrating men, elves and dwarves. She paused only long enough to ask the occasional elf or man if they'd seen Bard, Thranduil or Prince Legolas and upon hearing a negative answer, continued her trek.

Once the fighting had thinned out Beorn and Glorfindel had returned and picked her up. Dwalin and Dain had chosen to stay behind and Glorfindel had also leapt off and vanished into the remnants of the battle before she could think to say anything about Mirkwood.

Dain had helped her onto Beorn's back. As he'd done so Dwalin had stepped up as though he wished to say something to her but Bilba had turned away.

She'd heard what he'd said to Dain. He admitted he should have stood up for her alongside Fili and Kili. He'd understood Thorin wasn't in his right mind.

In many ways, the admission made the feeling of betrayal worse, igniting the first spark of anger where, before, there had only been grief and pain. It hadn't been a mistake. It hadn't been a misunderstanding. Dwalin had known exactly what he was doing and had chosen to leave her, Fili and Kili to face Thorin's wrath alone.

She supposed, now that her eyes had been opened so to speak, she could understand it. She was the outsider. She didn't belong. Of course he and the rest of the Company were going to pick Thorin over her.

Still, though, it was one thing for them to have betrayed her. It was something else entirely to have stood by and done nothing while Thorin banished his own nephews.

Thorin. Her gut clenched at the mere thought of his name. She was starting to feel anger toward him as well. After all, where did he get off saying she was a sorcerer and had bewitched Fili and Kili? It wasn't enough he called her a traitor and a liar?

That was only one part of it, though. When it came to Thorin her emotions were a mess. There was pain and hurt, betrayal, anger.

And there was fear.

So, so much fear, and it grew in intensity with every passing moment. Her hand went to her stomach, resting on the curve there. Then her mind went to Thorin. Thorin, who was a King and now had a Kingdom to go with the title. Thorin with his army and his weapons and his servants so blindly loyal they would follow him even when they knew he was wrong.

She wanted to go home.

Before she could no longer hide her pregnancy.

Before he found out.

Before he came to take her children from her.

A voice called her name and she turned, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw Legolas coming toward her. The Elven Prince was covered in blood and grime, his clothes torn in various places but he moved easily and without pain.

He came to a stop in front of her. "Bilba," he said in surprise, "I'd heard you'd returned and were looking for me and my father. What happened? Why didn't you stay in Mirkwood?"

Bilba took a deep breath and told him everything that had happened at the elven palace as quickly and succinctly as she could. As she did she saw his eyes widen in shock, his entire body straightening as though she'd physically struck him.

Once she'd finished speaking, he swallowed hard, his hands clenched in fists. Then he simply nodded. "Come on. We need to find my father."

He strode away and Bilba hurried after him.

The elves were far more willing to answer their prince than a small, oddly dressed hobbit, and they were soon directed back out onto the battlefield itself.

Bilba stayed next to Legolas and tried as best she could not to look but it was nearly impossible not to see the horror. There were bodies everywhere, piles of them jumbled together like dolls tossed carelessly on the floor. The rain had finally stopped but the ground was so saturated that large puddles and small rivers ran about the field, most of them tinged red.

They entered the ruins of Dale. It was harder to navigate there as the rubble had caused the bodies to be even more densely packed. Several times Legolas had to help her scramble around, or over, mounds of the dead.

Elves, men and dwarves moved through them, sectioning out the wounded and taking them back to the camps. The wounded were everywhere, their eyes tight with pain, hands out to her as she passed, asking for help. Everyone needed help though, here and in Mirkwood. She pointed searchers to the wounded as best she could, assured those crying for help that it would soon arrive, and pressed on.

They found Thranduil speaking to Bard under the shadow of a destroyed pavilion. As she neared them, she could tell the two sported injuries but neither seemed serious enough to threaten their lives.

"Father," Legolas called out. Thranduil and Bard both turned. Bard physically jerked at the sight of her.

"Bilba." He walked toward her. "What are you doing here?"

Bilba took a deep breath and stepped up to both Bard and Thranduil. For the second time she recounted everything that had happened in Mirkwood, from the fire to the fall of the palace.

Unlike his son, who wore his emotions openly, Thranduil's reaction was to simply grow stiller, his face perfectly blank.

He turned his gaze to Legolas and, when he spoke, Bilba almost would have thought he sounded bored.

"We'll leave immediately."

"The Men will go with you," Bard said. "Our people are there as well. As are my children."

Thranduil nodded and then strode away.

Legolas hesitated and smiled at Bilba, though it was tense. "He's really angry. The orcs will regret setting foot in Mirkwood."

"Of that I have no doubt," Bilba said with a weak smile.

Legolas looked at Bard for a moment and Bilba saw the man give a slight nod of acknowledgement. After that the Prince strode away to join his father.

Bilba expected Bard to take his leave as well but, somewhat to her surprise, he stayed.

"Don't feel you have to stay on my account," Bilba offered, ignoring the way her gut twisted at the thought of being left alone with nothing but the dead for company. "I'm sure you're in a hurry. I'd just slow you down."

He frowned. "What do you plan to do now?"

She shrugged, turning her gaze to a bit of rubble near her feet. "I plan to go home. You already know there's no place for me here."

Bard sat down on the piece of rubble she'd been staring at, leaning forward to catch her gaze. "Oakenshield should be ashamed. Even if you hadn't come halfway across Middle Earth to aid a cause that wasn't your own, just the fact he's treating a young woman so poorly...it's dishonorable."

He didn't mention her pregnancy, for which she was grateful.

"It is what it is," she said, her voice quiet. She raised her head. "I thought I'd follow your groups to Mirkwood. I'd like to see that your children are alright." She grinned. "Speaking of which, I think you deserve a medal for your parenting skills. Your children are a credit to you."

Bard looked embarrassed. "My wife made a good start. Anything I did merely built off what she'd already instilled in them."

Bilba smiled. "She must have been lovely."

Bard nodded. "She was." He studied her. "What will you do, after Mirkwood?"

"Find my way home," Bilba said. She clasped her hands together. The temperature was still low, a sharp breeze winding through the collapsed columns, bringing with it the promise of yet more rain.

"We're heading into winter," Bard said, his eyes narrowed. "It won't be safe to travel."

"I don't have a choice," Bilba whispered. The fear started to grow again. If she stayed much longer it might just choke her. "The longer I'm here the harder it will be to hide the pregnancy from Thorin. If he finds out--"

"You're afraid of him." Bard sounded both startled and saddened.

"I am," Bilba said. "He's been spreading the word that I've bewitched his nephews and I already know he thinks I'm a liar, thief and traitor. What do you think he'll do when he finds out I'm carrying his children?"

Bard stood up and Bilba flinched in surprise.

Stepping forward he crouched down, putting himself on eye level with her. "You went back for my children and did your utmost to protect them in Mirkwood. The least I can do is return the favor. I will see to it you get back home, if I have to deliver you there myself."

"You can't do that," Bilba gasped. "The Master is dead. The men look to you. They need you."

He shrugged and stood up. "There are others who can take my place." He grinned down at her. "Besides, I've always tried to be a man my children can look up to. How do you think they would look at me if I allowed a small woman to head off alone, in winter, trying to find her home?"

Bilba swallowed hard, her eyes burning. She nodded shakily, not trusting herself to speak.

"Come on," Bard said, indicating the route she'd taken to get there. "What do you say we get out of here? I'm a bit tired of the scent of death."

Bilba felt a massive sense of relief, so intense she nearly staggered.

She would go home, but she wouldn't have to go alone.

***

The healing tents had been set up as near the gates of Erebor as possible to try and protect them from the battle. Currently there was a lot of activity as men and elves rushed back and forth to get ready to depart. They were leaving the supplies and equipment and a number of healers were staying to deal with the injured elves and men who would also be left behind but, as a whole, the area would soon primarily be dwarven.

Thorin would no doubt be ecstatic, Bilba thought.

She found the tent she wanted easily enough, it was the one with the two burly looking dwarven guards stationed out front.

The two burly guards who completely missed the hobbit that slipped in behind their backs.

Inside the tent looked much the same as the last one she'd been in with rows of cots separated by thin curtains. Most of the beds were filled and healers bustled about, creating a scene of barely organized chaos.

Bilba made her way through carefully, studying the faces of each person as she passed. Finally, near the back of the tent, she found what she was looking for.

Someone had taken down the curtain between Fili and Kili and pushed their beds closer together. Fili was stripped to the waist, thick, bandages wound around his torso. He'd been cleaned up from the muck and mire of the battle and, aside from being far too pale still, looked better than the last time she'd seen him. Several blankets had been bundled around him and Bilba found herself offering a silent prayer that he didn't get sick from being so exposed to the elements.

Kili lay on his side on his own cot, eyes fixed on his brother. Bilba stopped at the foot of his bed and stood hesitantly, unwilling to disturb him.

Eventually Kili must have felt her eyes on him because he turned suddenly to look and immediately grinned in obvious relief.

"Bilba! There you are!" He struggled to a sitting position and she hurried to help him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Like his brother, he'd been cleaned up as well, and it occurred to her suddenly how filthy she was in contrast.

"Oh," She said, jerking her hands off him and starting to rise. "I'm so sorry! I'm going to get you dirty again."

"Nonsense," Kili said, tightening his grip and pulling her back down. "It's fine. How are you?"

"I'm alright," Bilba said. She felt a knot inside her loosen at the sight of clarity back in his eyes, a sharpness that hadn't been there the last time she'd spoken to him on the edge of the Spires.

"Good," Kili said. He frowned. "What happened to you? When I came to you were gone. Next thing I remember is Beorn charging back up with you. How'd you get away from the Spires?"

"It doesn't matter," Bilba said quietly. "How's Fili?"

His eyes narrowed, aware she was blatantly changing the subject but he let it go, his eyes going to his brother and softening. "They think he's going to be okay. Bard's children did an amazing job. If they hadn't done what they did he probably wouldn't have survived."

"That's such a relief," Bilba said. She hesitated. "What about Thorin and the others?"

"Everyone's alive," Kili said shortly, his eyes darkening. "Few broken bones, cuts and other things. Fili's the worst off by far." He hesitated, his eyes cutting past her for a moment. "Uncle will be fine. He's still unconscious but they're hoping he'll wake up soon."

Bilba felt a cold feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. She turned, following his gaze, and saw a section twenty feet or so away that had been completely partitioned off. "He's back there?"

Kili nodded and then flinched in surprise as Bilba got to her feet. "It's alright; he's not even awake yet."

"But he will be soon." Bilba wrung her hands, her panic rising. "And I'd rather not be here. I just wanted to make sure you and Fili were okay."

Well, that and say good-bye but she wasn't going to tell him that. He'd insist on going with her, citing the selfish promise she'd dragged out of him, and it would tear him apart to have to leave Fili. She wouldn't do that to him.

"I heard that Thorin doesn't blame you and Fili for taking my side," She said now. "He thinks I've bewitched you. I'm sure he'll accept you both back."

Kili stared at her. "Why does it sound like there's an implied 'when I'm gone' in there?"

Bilba mentally kicked herself. She'd always been bad at things like this. "That's not what I meant," she lied, hoping desperately her lying skills had improved. "I just meant he didn't blame you. He blamed me."

"I don't care," a new voice said groggily. "It doesn't change anything."

Bilba's head whipped around almost as fast as Kili's. Fili's eyes were open, his face creased with pain he hadn't felt while unconscious.

Kili nearly lunged off his own cot, jumping to his brother's side. Bilba lost sight of Fili as Kili sat down.

Bilba backed up a step, watching the two. She should move forward, she knew. Talk to them, extend the last few moments she'd have with them.

It was highly unlikely she'd ever see them again.

Her throat tightened and the scene blurred as her eyes watered. Quickly she turned and made her way back to the front of the tent. The armies were already moving out. She'd waited until the last second on purpose. She knew that, had she had more time, she'd have lingered far too long.

It would have simply made it harder.

Struggling to control herself, she exited the tent to see Bard waiting a few feet away, holding the reigns of a horse. Around him, and the tents, a slow exodus had started. The elves and men were exhausted, wounded, traumatized. It wasn't an army marching toward Mirkwood, it was a refugee camp.

Bard helped her onto the horse and then pulled himself up behind her. A few minutes later they were part of the trek, heading to Mirkwood.

Bilba shut her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing, fighting against sobs that threatened to wrench their way out of her throat.

It was through sheer force of will that she didn't look back.

The first sob finally broke through when they passed under the first trees of Mirkwood.

Bard wrapped an arm around her from behind and simply held her while she cried.

***

They ran into orcs almost as soon as they entered the forest, though not nearly as many as Bilba would have expected. The army made quick work of them and moved on in silence, to weary to celebrate even so small a victory.

When they neared the palace Thranduil separated them into groups, placing some into a blockade around his home while choosing others to go in with him. As he neared Bilba he frowned at her and said, "You should stay out here. I will not have one in your condition threatened when there is no need."

There was no cruelty in his voice, only the same seeming disinterest he always had. Remembering what Legolas had said, however, about him being angry when she'd noticed nothing, she decided to stop assuming she knew what he thought.

"I will," she said. "Thank you."

He nodded and moved off. Bard dismounted and helped her down, setting her up near the back of the line but still well surrounded by soldiers. He frowned at her, clearly upset at the prospect of leaving her. "You'll be alright?"

Bilba nodded. "I will. You should go find your children."

"She'll be fine," a new voice said. "I'll keep an eye on her while you're gone."

Glorfindel pushed through the crowd and sat down next to her. Well, collapsed might have been a more apt description for what he did but Bilba decided the polite thing to do would be to ignore that.

Bard didn't look convinced and Bilba couldn't blame him. Glorfindel looked terrible. His armor was rent in places, actually torn like it had been fabric instead of metal. He was so covered in blood and gore that his hair was nearly black instead of platinum and he swayed slightly where he sat.

His eyes narrowed at them. "Stop staring at me like that. I can still fight if needed."

"Of that I have no doubt," Bilba said quietly. She moved forward and sat down next to him, so close they were nearly touching. She smiled at Bard. "Go on. We'll be fine."

Bard gave an unsure nod and then went to join the others as they headed toward the palace.

After they were gone, Bilba hesitated and then turned to Glorfindel. "Did you see if anyone retrieved Gandalf?"

Pain lanced through her at the thought of his body left out in the open. He deserved better than that.

He gave her a tired smile. "Don't worry, little one." He looked away, his gaze set. "He was my friend too. I'll see to it that he's taken care of."

"Ok." She hesitated and then asked, "Did the Witch King do all that to you?" She indicated his armor.

He snorted. "Some of it. I ran into his eight friends before I finally found him. It was a...surprise to say the least."

All nine, Bilba thought in shock. He'd taken on all nine Nazgul and lived.

"Gandalf came to my aid," Glorfindel continued. "After we were able to drive them off we went after the Witch King. You saw the end of that encounter."

Bilba studied her hands, idly picking at the encrusted blood under her nails. "So is it true then? That Sauron has returned? I was hoping maybe just somehow the Witch King was causing problems on his own."

He sighed. "He has, though at the moment I suspect he is not yet back to his full strength. We still have time."

Bilba thought back to the army that had marched on Erebor. That was Sauron not at full strength? What would happen when he did reach his full power?

A shudder ran through her and she rested a hand lightly on her stomach, it was quickly becoming a new habit. This news was all the more reason for her to go home. The farther from Mordor she was the safer her children would be.

Glorfindel gave her a sidelong look. "If you don't mind my asking, what are you doing here? I would have thought you'd be back with your dwarven friends."

Bilba gave a bitter laugh. "Turns out they weren't my friends after all." She sighed and, in a low voice, staring at her hands the entire time, she told him...everything. He gave no reaction as she spoke. He simply sat next to her and listened.