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Jimmy placed a hand on Thorin's shoulder.
"Sometimes, this is simply how a person is," he said quietly. "When life and death are placed in front of someone, what do you think they choose. To sacrifice themselves for others Or to save themselves and run."
He glanced toward the sleeping Hobbit.
"Bilbo is kind, He avoids killing, He cannot ride, He has many shortcomings, but once you accept him as part of the company, once you call him your burglar, he accepts this group in his heart as well."
Jimmy met Thorin's gaze.
"Let's make a wager. I say that when there is no danger, he will want to leave, but the moment danger appears, he will turn back without hesitation to save us."
Thorin raised his cup slightly.
"Then I will watch."
---
The night deepened.
The fire burned low. One by one, everyone drifted into sleep.
Rustle.
Soft sounds of packing echoed through the darkness.
Bilbo was quietly gathering his belongings.
Thorin's eyes opened. He began to rise, but Jimmy shook his head slowly, stopping him.
"Bilbo," Bifur asked softly, "where are you going?"
"I'm going back to Rivendell."
"No. You can't do that. You're our burglar."
"No, I'm not," Bilbo said, voice trembling. "I'm just a Hobbit from the Shire. I'm not like you. You're used to sleeping on the road. Used to never staying in one place."
"I'm not. I have a home. I…"
He stopped.
Only then did he realize what he had said.
The dwarves had lost their home. Their mountain had been taken by a dragon. They wandered not by choice, but by necessity.
"…I'm sorry," Bilbo said quickly. "That isn't what I meant. I only mean that I don't belong here."
"Yes," Bifur said with a forced smile. "We are dwarves without a home. Safe travels, Bilbo."
"Thank you," Bilbo whispered. "And please… apologize to Jimmy and Thorin for me."
He turned to leave.
Thorin glanced at Jimmy.
You see, He's going.
Jimmy only smiled faintly.
Wait, sometimes miracles happen in the very next moment.
"Wait," Bifur said suddenly. "What's that?"
"What," Bilbo asked, startled, glancing down.
The large dagger at his waist was glowing.
A pale blue light pulsed along the blade.
Bilbo's breath caught.
Gandalf's words echoed in his mind.
When Orcs draw near, it will shine to warn you.
"Orcs," Bilbo managed. "There are Orcs."
The ground shook.
A crack split the earth, racing toward them.
"Alert," Thorin shouted.
Jimmy moved instantly.
He stored his pack and both blades back into the Horadric Cube in a practiced motion.
The earth collapsed.
The ground gave way beneath them.
Everyone fell.
They tumbled down a steep, spiraling slope, spinning and crashing like clothes in a churning washer. Jimmy fought to keep his balance, but the weight of several dwarves slamming into him sent him tumbling with the rest.
The tunnel narrowed.
The end rushed toward them.
Jimmy's claws burst free.
Screech!
Sparks flew as metal bit into stone. Jimmy arrested his fall at the edge of the opening, hanging there as the others plunged past him.
Cries echoed below.
Dwarves and Bilbo crashed into a bone-filled pit, barred like a crude prison.
Before anyone could recover, Orcs poured in.
So many that they packed together like a morning crowd in a city street.
In that chaos, even Jimmy would struggle to fight freely.
Alone, he could slaughter them.
With the dwarves mixed in, he could not.
He stayed where he was.
Orcs seized the dwarves and dragged them away down the passage.
Jimmy listened to their voices fade.
He was about to drop down after them.
Then he heard something else.
A breath.
A movement.
Against all logic, Bilbo was still there.
Flattened against the stone, overlooked by dozens of Orcs, his presence somehow slipped past their attention.
Jimmy narrowed his eyes.
Seeing the dwarves dragged away, Bilbo broke cover and ran after them.
An Orc stepped into his path.
At the same moment, Jimmy dropped from the cave opening above.
"Jimmy."
"I've got you."
Too late.
Bilbo turned his head for just an instant. The Orc seized the opening, lunged forward, and both of them tumbled over the edge of the chasm.
Jimmy froze for a heartbeat.
So it happened anyway.
Bilbo vanished into the darkness below.
Down there waited Gollum. And with him, the One Ring.
A fall into darkness. A meeting with fate. And a path that would change the course of his life forever.
Jimmy exhaled once.
"There's nothing I can do about that now."
He turned inward, blade in hand, and slipped into the tunnels after the dwarves.
---
The Goblin tunnels roared with noise.
Torches flared. Drums pounded. The Goblins, Orcs of the deep places, were celebrating.
They had captured Thorin, the prize demanded by the pale Orcs.
A massive figure rose from the central platform.
The Goblin King.
"Well now," the Goblin King sneered. "Look what crawled into my halls. The King without a Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield."
"Why have you come here," he jeered. "To reclaim your precious Erebor."
"We will reclaim the Lonely Mountain," Thorin answered fiercely.
"Oh," the Goblin King laughed. "To challenge the dragon. How brave."
He leaned forward.
"But I doubt you will ever reach him. Listen to me. Turn back, and perhaps you may yet live."
"Even if we are reduced to ash," Thorin shouted, "we will reclaim our home."
The Goblins howled with laughter.
"Ash," they mocked. "Ash."
The Goblin King raised a clawed hand.
"You misunderstand me. I was not offering advice. I was offering mercy."
He grinned.
"Send word to the pale Orcs. I have their bounty. Let them bring payment."
He turned to his guards.
"Hang the king. As for the rest throw them into the pots."
---
That was as far as it went.
Jimmy tightened his grip.
No one was being boiled today.
He drove his claws into the stone wall and began to climb, using shadows and noise to mask his movement. Slowly, carefully, he reached the ceiling directly above the Goblin King.
He smiled faintly.
"Have you ever seen a blade fall from the sky?"
He dropped.
Steel flashed.
The Goblin King looked up just in time.
The blade split him from crown to spine.
The massive body collapsed into two smoking halves.
Silence.
Then chaos.
Even the dwarves stared in disbelief.
"Why are you standing there," Jimmy barked. "Grab weapons."
He landed among the guards, both blades moving in lethal arcs, clearing the platform in moments.
Goblins screamed. Some fled. Others surged forward.
Then—
Boom.
A massive rock slammed down, crushing a cluster of Goblins.
A familiar voice rang out.
"This way."
Grey robes, Pointed hat, Staff in one hand, sword in the other.
A wizard who refused to stay at the rear.
Gandalf.
"There," Gandalf shouted. "The bridge."
Now they had direction. Weapons. And a path out.
Jimmy took the lead.
"I'll clear the way. Gandalf, guide us."
"Straight ahead, To the hanging bridge."
Steel rang, Fire flared.
And the escape began.
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