The Light that Wakes [Bagginshield]

Darkness Rising

Bilbo already hated himself. He hated his shaking hands and his trembling heart and especially his quickening feet that were in very much of a hurry to whisk him away, as far away as possible, he would have wished, from Thorin. He hated that wish most of all. He didn't understand it. It was not his own. It was as if a dark wraith awoken by the Dwarves in their mines had come in the night and poisoned his heart with fear. It was a fear like no other he had felt during the course of his adventure with the Dwarves, which had not been lacking in perils and terrors. Nothing he had encountered on his journey through wonder but also through much darkness had singed his very bones with such fear as that quiet morning, in the warmth of Thorin's bedroom. And he tried so hard to look within himself and understand why this was happening to him that he only took notice of Balin walking towards him at the last minute, just before walking right into him.

"Bilbo, good morning," said Balin, laying his hands on Bilbo's shoulders as if putting up a barricade. "You look like you have somewhere important to go."

"Uh, not more important than on any other day," said Bilbo, realising just now how dry his throat had grown. "Good morning."

Balin peered at him from under his eyebrows, which he hadn't done in a while. "You seem preoccupied."

Going around a topic was really not the strong suite of any Dwarves that Bilbo had met, not even of Balin's. Usually, he liked that. At that very moment, however, he would have preferred a less direct inquiry about his more than obviously preoccupied state of mind. Better yet, he would have preferred no inquiry at all in that regard. He considered lying for a second, saying that Balin was imagining things, but he was certain that Balin was on his way to see Thorin, and seeing Thorin that morning would have revealed the truth of recent disaster without a doubt.

"I... would rather not discuss it," said Bilbo, "not now. And, as a matter of fact, I must be on my way. I'm sure Ori is waiting for me."

"Certainly," said Balin, releasing Bilbo's shoulders, not without a sigh of disappointment. "I would like to help if I can. I hope you know that."

"I do, Balin, thank you."

"All right then, I shall see you later."

Bilbo nodded his head in greeting and started again towards the library. Now he felt even worse. He considered Balin a good friend, and a good friend deserved better than being shut off in that way. He really would have tried to help, perhaps he would have even given Bilbo some good advice. Then again, even between friends, one had the right to keep certain things to oneself. It didn't make Bilbo feel any better. In fact, it made him feel like he didn't want to go where he was going after all. He was in no mood for conversation, which was always part of his days spent in the library with Ori. He also didn't feel like doing anything useful that day, not even if it involved books. All he wanted was to walk out through the gates of Erebor, into whatever weather was waiting outside, and simply drift off, unknown to others, and especially to himself.

His steps continued to take him towards the library, however, almost as if they'd had a mind of their own. As he walked in, he realised he had good reason to feel silly as well over his exchange with Balin. He had completely forgotten that he had to talk to Balin if he wanted to get a room of his own starting that night. It had to be that night and no later. He couldn't begin to imagine what it would have been like to spend the night in Thorin's room as he had always done since entering Erebor, as if nothing terrible had happened between them. But it had, and it seemed that Balin would have to hear about it from Bilbo before the day would be over.

"Good morning, Bilbo" said Ori in his usual bright tone that betrayed no hidden burdens and no heavy thoughts about the future, which Bilbo found particularly comforting that morning.