Protection

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"What in the world are you doing?!"

The dwarves and their hobbit had climbed down the mountainside without losing anybody to severe injury or broken limb, each of the children tucked safely away in their shirts during the descent. Once they were all at the bottom, Thorin quickly signaled for a pair of guards to allow them entrance into the city, impatience clear as he charged past all three of Erebor's titanic front gates. It was only when they reached the main entrance hall that the Dwarf-King paused in his stampede to the throne room, eyes widening at the odd sight in front of him.

"Toasting the traitors," said Bombur. "Would you like a turn?"

Bilbo started to laugh, amazed at the familiar scene before him. Bombur, bless his rotund and ever-hungry belly, was currently turning several traitors round and round on a giant spit that had been constructed in the center of the chamber. All of them were yelling obscenities at the plump dwarf, the hot flames licking their bums and feet with every turn of the wooden crank. Glóril and three dwarf mothers were toasting sausages over the fire, a sharp prong occasionally stabbing them in the head or whatever other soft piece of flesh was exposed and available.

"Simply brilliant, Bombur!" crowed Bofur with pride. "Roasted Rhûn!"

The King just stood there, staring in disbelief at the method of torture that several angry mothers and cooks had come up with in his absence. And from the looks of Ori and his list of papers, it appeared that many of them had partially confessed or at least spoken about their leader's plans in minor detail.

"It's official," mumbled Thorin as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "The entire city's gone mad."

Bilbo shook his head at the lunacy of dwarves. "Pity your cousin isn't here. Dáin would've enjoyed this whole debacle quite a bit, I imagine."

"Uncle," said Frodo, "I'm hungry."

"Me, too," piped in Donel. "Hey, do we still get cupcakes?"

"I don't know."

Donel looked contemplative. "I might have to talk with Amad first. She's always so cranky about sweets and stuff."

"Uncle..."

"Wait, wait," laughed Bilbo, "I'm just gonna stand here and appreciate this oddly wistful reenactment for a few moments."

Grunting in annoyance, the Dwarf-King just stomped off to find Balin, the subject of torture and punishment at the forefront of his mind. All of the parents soon swooped in to take their children, profusely thanking the rescuers and promising severe retribution on the turncoats who'd attacked their kingdom. Apparently, the moles had been concentrated in the west-central and southwestern mines, the latter of which had been effortlessly dealt with by Balin's assembled teams. Because those mines were more regularly used and had seen quite a bit of reconstruction, tracking down and apprehending the traitors had been a lot easier than what Thorin's team had encountered in their tunnels.

"Yeah, well, I'd like to see them find five dwarflings without any explosions," grumbled Dwalin. "Still killed dozens more than..."

All of the dwarves started to disperse, Bifur, Bofur, and Glóin heading over to the fire for some much-needed torture while Dwalin and Nori followed the King to find their oldest Company member. Óin was speaking with Farina's uncle about the treatment she'd be needing in the coming weeks and Dori now stood beside his youngest brother, looking over the information they'd tortured out of the traitors so far. The only one Bilbo couldn't locate was Fíli, who'd disappeared somewhere after Kíli decided to start poking at one of the traitor's bums with a hot iron.

"Just look at your face," groused Donel's mother, "It's got more scratches on it than an unsupervised pair of tomcats. I swear, if those filthy fuc—"

"I think they're both in desperate need of a warm bath and some good food, don't you think, Thana?" asked Bilbo with a tired smile. "Quite honestly, I don't think I've ever seen my nephew this filthy before."

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