Chapter Text
Bilbo groaned where he had landed on Bombur, his large stomach had softened his impact when they had hit bottom. He was grateful he had fallen on top of the dwarf instead of under him, a fate a few of the Company had not escaped going by the sound of the groans coming from below him.
Bilbo was quick to scramble off of the dwarf, falling to the ground amid the armor and hair of the other dwarrows. He managed to pick himself up without stepping on anyone when they were swarmed by dozens of goblins that seemed to be coming from every direction. The Company were quickly overwhelmed, hands tugged at Bilbo, ripping at his maroon jacket as he was forced out of the bowl they landed in.
Even as fear twisted his gut, he struggled against them the best he could and by the sound of it many of the Company were doing the same.
Dwalin was the loudest of them all, his voice bouncing in the small space, spewing curses. Through the mass of bodies, Bilbo could see him struggling to get the axes off his back. However the dwarrows were no match against the sheer number of the goblins that filled the passages. For every goblin Dwalin punched and ripped off his body, another 10 took its place. His axes were soon ripped away from him, as well as the rest of the Company’s weapons. Even Bilbo’s elven blade was ripped from his waist by long knarly fingers.
Once their weapons had been stripped, dozens of hands pushed and pulled the Company deeper into the mountains where even more goblins seemed to be waiting.
It was mass chaos, and at one point Bilbo found himself pushed to the side and not immediately grabbed again. He instinctly dropped to his knees to appear smaller and hopefully be ignored in all the commotion. But luck was against him as a goblin caught sight of him and dragged him to his feet by his hair. Bilbo gave a small gasp of pain at the action, but was quick to get moving as the goblin jabbed at him with the sharp edge of his crude sword.
The path they were being herded on turned from solid stone to a maze of rickety wooden bridges. In some places boards were missing and the ropes creaked ominously from supporting the weight of so many. Bilbo found himself almost pushed off the edge of one of the bridges they passed. As he struggled to regain his balance, he looked down. Blackness stretched as far as he could see and he knew that when he fell, he would be falling to his death.
Bilbo could feel his momentum pushing him forward into that blackness when suddenly there was an iron clad grip on his coat and he was pulled back from the edge and his almost certain fall. The sudden change of balance had him crashing slightly into his rescuers side. The same strong hand that had pulled him also assisted in righting him. Only then was Bilbo able to look up and see who had saved him.
The familiar brown eyes of Bifur were looking down on the hobbit with worry. It had been pure luck that in the seething mass of bodies that the dwarf had seen their hobbit tipping over the edge. With his advanced stone sense, Bifur could feel that the chasm they had been above stretched several miles down. A dwarf would probably survive that fall if he was lucky, but for the softer hobbit it would have been a death sentence. Bifur wrapped his arm securely around Bilbo and pulled him close to make sure that he wouldn’t almost be lost again.
Eventually they were led into a great chamber. The walls echoed with the shrieks of the hundreds of goblins that lined the walls; in every crack Bilbo turned his eyes to he could see dozens of hate filled eyes looking down. But they were nothing compared to waited for them in the center of it all.
Sitting on a massive throne was the biggest goblin that any of the Company had ever seen. Bifur could feel his smaller charge begin to quake in fear as they were brought to a stop in front of the giant goblin.
Only Bilbo knew immediately who this figure was as his eyes widened in fear as he gazed at the Goblin King. The voice of his Mother echoed in his ears, her warnings of why he should always be cautious when leaving the Shire.
“You must always remember my little Bilbo the threat we face from Goblin kind. The Goblin Kings have never forgotten how Bullroarer Took beheaded the great Goblin King Golfimbul. A grudge they have kept against all hobbit folk; even as they were forced to retreat into the Misty Mountains so long ago. Though they have never regained enough strength to attack the people of Middle Earth above ground since, you must always be vigilant. If you ever come face to face with a goblin Bilbo, never mention your Tookish heritage. And always, always hide your family crests. Goblins have sworn the foulest of deaths for members of our family.”
“Yes mama,” young Bilbo has assured his Mother will all the seriousness of a young faunt.
His Mother had smiled and ruffled his hair.
Lifting his eyes at the horde of goblins and then back at the Goblin King, he knew in that moment he wouldn’t be leaving this place alive. Closing his eyes, he could only pray to the Green Lady, that she would show him mercy and allow his death to be quick.