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Hunting Erebor	By : LadyLaran Category: Supernatural > Crossovers Views: 1898 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural" or "The Hobbit." I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author’s Note – It’s been a while, but it’s due to lack of trying on my part to get this chapter out. Health issues and then my computer decided to eat the original version of chapter eight, so I took some time off and then wrote this out. I hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” or “Supernatural.” I’m borrowing the characters and settings, which are not mine, and I don’t make money from this story.

Chapter Eight – Seriously?!

Imrathon was cursing as he fought against the bonds, hearing his brother swearing under his breath as he tried to break free as well. Everything had been going reasonably well too so the elder brother was at a loss as to how this had happened. As he struggled, he thought back to the past events, trying to determine just where things had gone wrong and gotten out of their control.

The rain had been planned for although the brothers had not anticipated a week’s worth of the stuff. Everything had gotten wet despite the precautions taken to keep their supplies and personal belongings dry, and everyone had gotten rather irritated due to Bilbo’s fairly good mood throughout the deluge. The hobbit had shrugged off the glares, commenting that it was important that the plants got the water they needed, and he’d just grinned at Imrathon whenever the elder Dúnedain had tried to prank him in retaliation.

Of course, the pranking had been noticed by two devious dwarrow brothers and that had set off a prank war that had not just targeted both sets of brothers. By the time Bilbo had interfered, the entire company had been dealing with missing items, sabotaged weapons practice, scaring each other during the short breaks to stretch their legs, amongst other things. When the tea, necessary for certain people in the morning, had been sabotaged, Bilbo had proven to several members just why you didn’t mess with a hobbit’s food. He had gone off on Imrathon, Eruestan, Kili, and Fili with a vengeance, scaring them into a truce with how fiercely he had promised retribution.

Well, he scared Imrathon and Eruestan, who had quickly filled the other two pranksters in on just how thorough a hobbit’s vengeance could be. Hobbits were kind people, provided you didn’t push them too far, and they had experienced a Took’s wrath on more than one occasion. Based on the Dúnedain’s explanations, the two princes decided to call a truce since they had no wish to handle the wrath Bilbo could dish out on their heads.

It had been fun while it lasted, Imrathon acknowledged as he tried harder to get out of the knots that held him so snugly. However, the problem had started when they had reached the ruined farmhouse, recognizing it immediately. Eruestan, being the more diplomatic of the two, had tried to intervene before Gandalf and Thorin could butt heads over elves and choice of camping spot.

Unfortunately, his brother’s efforts had been wasted and he’d been treated to the scalding side of Thorin’s tongue, though the king had acknowledged the plan crafted in Bag End that he’d been reminded of. Imrathon had not interfered, knowing that the dwarf king had good reason to be furious with the elves, and he knew that his brother agreed with his opinion on the situation. Thranduil was a jerk, plain and simple, and Gandalf’s insistence on going to Rivendell would certainly agitate the dwarrow members of the company. Imrathon and Eruestan had hoped to bring up the necessity of having the map translated in a more tactful way, but the wizard had preempted them before they could even talk to the dwarf.

The Istar had stalked off, probably heading to Rivendell anyway to warn of the coming party, and the company had been stuck dealing with their leader’s foul mood. Imrathon had offered to do a bit of scouting since the damage to the farm house had seemed fairly recent, but Thorin had waved him off. Since the offer hadn’t worked and the two princes had been sent to watch the ponies, Eruestan and Imrathon had gone through a quick brainstorming session in English to try to find a way to get this to work in their favor. The plan was not complicated, and it had every chance of going wrong. However, it was at least something to try instead of leaving things to chance.

Eruestan had volunteered to take the meal to Fili and Kili, discovering ponies were missing, and once they’d discovered the trolls, the trio had returned to camp to report the situation. A discussion was hastily had, and the company had gone to face the trolls. Bilbo had been ordered to remain behind to watch the camp; the hobbit had not been pleased with Thorin’s decision but had acquiesced to keep the foul temper from exploding even further.

For all the planning they had done in the impromptu session, they had forgotten to take into account their own weird bad luck as well as the rotten luck that seemed to follow the company in the movies and book.

The skirmish had started out all right; the company and Dúnedain worked together well and had kept the trolls off balance. Sharp blades lashed out at any vulnerable point that could be reached on a mountain troll, which weren’t many, and it seemed like they might actually get through the situation when they heard a scream.

“Drop your weapons or we’ll rip his arms and legs off,” one of the trolls ordered.

All eyes turned to the figure of the company’s scribe being held rightly between two trolls. Eruestan growled, noticing Dori and Nori being held back by two members of the group, and the two rangers were quick to drop their weapons when Thorin did the same.

Which led to the situation they were now currently in – tied up in sacks with some of the dwarrow bound to a spit. It was something they had really hoped to avoid, and Imrathon was seriously not happy with the circumstances.

“I knew I was forgetting something,” he grumbled in English. “Training the scribe.”

“What’s done is done; now we have to hope that Bilbo realizes something is wrong and comes up with some sort of idea to rescue us,” Eruestan answered.

“So long as I don’t hear the words skin them first,” Imrathon growled, frowning as he listened to the argument about how the company should be cooked.

“While I applaud the notion of sauteing them, I sincerely doubt you have all of the ingredients needed to make a well rounded dish,” an unexpected voice called.

The trolls and company turned to stare at the small figure; Bilbo had just entered the campsite, armed and focused on the mountain trolls.

“You know something about cooking dwarf,” the cook asked the hobbit.

“Of course I do,” he replied. “I’m a hobbit; we know our food better than any race on Middle Earth.”

“Never heard of hobbits,” one of the other trolls said.

“I’m not surprised,” Bilbo answered. “Truth is, we don’t travel much since we love our comfort and it’s a shame because I doubt there’s a race on Middle Earth who can match our cooking skills.”

Imrathon stared at his brother, hoping Bilbo wasn’t about to do what he thought he was. Eruestan stared back, eyes wide as he shook his head. He was as clueless as his brother at this point. They looked back in time to see one of the trolls try to pick the hobbit up.

“Release me,” Bilbo demanded.

“Or what,” the troll sneered. “You’re no cook..”

His words trailed off, and he began screaming when the spiked ball at the end of the hobbit’s flail buried itself into one of his eyes. Bilbo expertly pulled the ball back, taking several steps away from the howling troll.

“It’s disrespectful to pick up a person and threaten them when they’re trying to help,” he scolded, flail still at the ready beside him. “Now, as I was saying, sauteing with as few ingredients as you have simply won’t work. It’s difficult to get dwarf tender and flavorful, especially since they have an off odor about them.”

“I’ve eaten dwarves raw and never had a problem with the smell or taste,” the middle troll commented, ignoring his screaming friend and the cook, who wasn’t happy with him interrupting the conversation.

“My goodness, are you healthy, sir,” the hobbit asked, sounding very concerned.

“Wait, what? Yes, I’m healthy. Why does a little ferret like you want to know,” the troll asked, sounding both confused and angry.

“Because dwarrow have parasites in them! You can’t eat raw dwarf because you’ll catch what they have! You’ve got to cook them if you want to stay healthy,” Bilbo insisted, upsetting many of the company.

Kili tried to protest, but Thorin kicked him. The king had realized, at the same time as the Dúnedain, what the hobbit was attempting, and he knew Bilbo needed to be undisturbed so his concentration wouldn’t break. The archer stayed quiet, and the protests that came from the other members died down right then.

“Why, my great aunt Tulip ate raw meat and was incredibly sick for nearly two weeks,” he continued. “It’s way too risky, especially out here in the wild. There’s no place to find a healer if you become ill; your friends wouldn’t have what they needed to treat you.”

“So what recipe would you recommend trying with these dwarves,” the cook asked.

“Roasting them as you are won’t work,” Bilbo told him. “They’re too dense, and the meat takes time to become tender. You’ll have a difficult time eating them and won’t enjoy it at all if you roast them like this. Have you a large pot with a lid?”

The cook frowned, thinking on the question, and the hobbit didn’t rush him. He cast an eye to the horizon, looking satisfied, and then back at the trio. The injured one was sobbing and screaming, threatening to come after him, but that was stopped when the cook hit him hard.

“Shut your pie hole! I’m trying to think here!”

“If you have one, you could let them cook slowly in a broth. It’ll tenderize the meat, remove the odor, and ensure a lovely flavor,” Bilbo encouraged. “Truthfully, one of my favorite recipes is based on that and I’ve had relatives trying to steal it for years. However, since you seem like such a nice fellow, I’m willing to trade you for it.”

“You’d trade me a recipe you won’t even give your family?”

“You’re much nicer than most of my relatives, I assure you. I’ve an aunt who very much wishes to get her grubby paws on my home and a cousin who is very much like her. There’s simply no way I would give any of my recipes to someone like that! No taste or sense of refinement at all,” the hobbit said.

Much to the amazement of dwarrow and Dúnedain, the cook and Bilbo traded recipes for at least ten minutes before there was a loud crack. Sunlight poured through the now broken boulder, turning the trolls to stone.

“Thank Yavanna,” the hobbit said, sagging slightly before snagging one of Fili’s daggers from the pile of weapons the trolls had made. “I was starting to think you’d never get here, Gandalf.”

“I arrived precisely when I meant to,” the wizard answered back. “Well done in playing for time, Bilbo.”

“I was about to lose my audience if you hadn’t gotten here when you did,” he stated, cutting the ropes on the bags that held most of the company. “The recipes he was giving me were utterly disgusting and if I heard one more with squirrel dung in the ingredients list, I would have thrown up and completely ruined everything.”

“That doesn’t sound appealing at all,” Gandalf said, releasing the dwarrow on the spit.

“No, it doesn’t,” Bilbo commented, working his way through the bags. “I knew dawn was getting closer, and I wasn’t sure if I could keep this up. Cracking that boulder helped speed things along.”

“What happened to this one’s eye,” the gray clad man asked, frowning at the third.

“He decided to try to pick me up so I encouraged him to leave me alone. He could have easily hurt me, and I’ve no wish to slow everyone down because of broken bones,” he told him, handing Fili his dagger once the bags were cut.

“That was nice work with the flail, Master Baggins,” Dwalin stated, grabbing his clothing from the pile. “I didn’t even see you move.”

Bilbo blushed, giving the warrior a smile as he answered.

“I learned to be fast with it; one of the advantages hobbits have is our speed, and Imrathon and Eruestan encouraged me to work on speed with my weapons and unarmed combat. I’m glad I haven’t lost any of it,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“We’ll have to make sure to work with you on it to help you keep going,” Dwalin said, finishing with his dressing and looking for his weapons.

“Which reminds me, what happened? I waited for a while until I realized something must be wrong and came to investigate,” the hobbit asked.

“Ori got caught during the battle,” Bofur answered, working with his brother to get Bifur dressed.

Imrathon finished dressing, tucking away his daggers and sheathing his sword before turning to face Dori.

“Master Dori, may I have a word with you?”

“Of course,” the elder brother of the trio said, following the elder Dúnedain out of earshot.

“Good gracious,” Bilbo looked over at Ori. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” the scribe replied, blushing. “Mister Dwalin caught me when the trolls threw me down so I didn’t get hurt.”

“That’s good to know,” the curly haired male said, finding a quiet place to lean against as the group dressed and rearmed themselves.

“Master Baggins,” Thorin began, walking up to the hobbit. “That was a well thought out plan on your part; thank you for interfering when you did. We might have lost people had you not intervened.”

“You’re welcome, Master Oakenshield,” he answered, pleased his actions had been acknowledged.

The king-in-exile nodded, striding off to talk to Gandalf and Dwalin, leaving Bilbo a little stunned and flustered.

Eruestan, who had heard the short conversation, walked up to his friend and smiled. He was happy Thorin was spotting the benefits of having Bilbo with them, and he was very proud of his hobbit friend for his brave actions.

“Very nicely done, Bilbo,” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I just did what I had to do,” the other admitted. “I was frightened, but there was no way I was going to lose my friends.”

“You kept your calm, remembered your training, and did everything you could to protect us. That, my friend, is a job well done. I am proud of you.”

“Thank you, Eruestan,” Bilbo answered. “I just hope I can continue to show that I can pull my weight here and not slow everyone down.”

“The one that presents a risk of doing that is Ori,” the Dúnadan said softly. “I’m hoping my brother’s conversation with Dori will allow that to change. A slingshot is good for a hunting tool but not for something like this.”

“I didn’t realize he was carrying a slingshot and nothing else,” the hobbit replied, looking worried.

Eruestan didn’t have to answer because his brother and the dwarf came back to the group moments later, and Dori’s voice could be heard as he addressed Dwalin.

“Mister Dwalin, if you have time in the evenings during our journey, would you be willing to train Ori to fight? He was not able to take the training when it was offered, and I have come to the realization that he needs to be better protected.”

“Aye, Master Dori, I am willing,” the warrior answered. “We’ll start with unarmed until we find a weapon he’s comfortable with.”

“Thank you,” Dori said, giving a small bow before going to speak with his brothers.

“Right, let’s find the cave where the hoard is,” Thorin said. “We might find something useful so spread out and start looking.”

With that, the company followed his orders and began hunting for the cave the trolls were using. The Dúnedain overheard Bofur comment to his family that he hoped this would be the only problem they ran into, and both brothers gave each other grim looks since they knew this was only the beginning. There was a lot more to come.

Author’s End Note – I decided a slightly different approach to the trolls. We have a more confident Bilbo here, and I thought he’d handle things a bit differently. Poor Imrathon and Eruestan! I know they’d hoped to avoid being bagged, but things don’t always work out. I guess their luck hasn’t changed much from one world to the other! Thanks for reading; please let me know what you thought of the story. See you next time. ~ Laran
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Hunting Erebor