A Shot in the Dark (Thilbo - Bagginshield)

Chapter 9

It is my fault, he thought, feeling as if he would throw up. It is all my fault. Oh, what have I done? What have I done?!

If he had the chance, he would have fallen to his knees and wept over his failure. But the Stone Giants could not stop their fight for a little Hobbit. The rock he still stood upon—the one the others should have been on, his mind reminded spitefully—began to move, and he found himself desperately clinging to the slippery surface. It was a much more challenging feat this time to hang onto the giant without the aid of his comrades, but Bilbo determined that this would not be the end for him. He dug his fingernails into the unforgiving stone, braced his feet best, and hung on. He eyed the distance between him and the rest of his comrades, and when he judged it right, he pushed himself off the giant and leaped to the other cliff.

He did not reach it.

Bilbo's fingers grazed the barest hint of stone—slick and smooth from constant rain and travel—and then, before he realized it, he was falling and falling and then—

Everything went black.

~*~

Bilbo awoke to pain and the intense brown gaze of a Dwarf.

"Master Baggins, are you awake?" Dwalin—bloody and dirty but alive Dwalin—asked him when he opened his eyes.

He stared at the Dwarf momentarily as he slowly came to his senses. His head and left arm hurt something fierce, and he could barely see into the darkness around him. But none of that was important because Dwalin was alive.

"You're not dead," he whispered as something tight in his chest eased up.

Dwalin looked mildly offended. "Of course not. Do you think a little fall off a mountain will do me in? I'm a Dwarf."

"Of course. Of course, I should not have presumed the worst," Bilbo admitted, slowly sitting up and gazing around them. He could see nothing clearly in the darkness, but what he could make out was that they were in a narrow cave of some sort. He also realized that they were alone.

"Where are the others?" Bilbo asked, looking back to the Dwarf before him.

Dwalin's lips became a thin line on his face. "Don't know. I fell further than they did. Most likely, they are above us on some ledge."

Bilbo glanced above them and could barely distinguish the large crack they both must have fallen through. "Do you think we can climb up and find them?"

"If I was alone? Yes. But with you here?" The warrior snorted and shook his head. "Not bloody likely."

"Then leave me here and go on alone and find the others," he suggested.

Dwalin scowled. "I'm not leaving an injured Hobbit alone in a cave on the side of a mountain. You're liable to get eaten or fall off stumbling around in the dark."

"I can protect myself well enough, and I'm not dumb enough to move around injured," he argued, slightly offended. He was not a lad and could take care of himself after all. "It is more important for you to find the others and ensure they're safe."

Dwalin's scowl grew even more severe. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Put the rest of us above yourself. We are neither kin nor friend, yet you act like you would die for us. Why?" the Dwarf asked bluntly, still frowning harshly at him.

Bilbo bit his lower lip. He could think of a dozen lies of why he put his comrades in front of himself, but he knew that none of them would have satisfied Dwalin. The warrior wanted the truth, which was the one answer he could not give.