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Chapter Text

Bilbo was frozen on the tree as he watched the orc draw closer to Thorin, a blade held at the ready. 'Move Bilbo, move damn you!' The hobbit's thoughts screamed, but the Hobbits limbs remained frozen.

It was only when the orc held his blade at Thorin's neck that Bilbo felt his body jump into action. His run was desperate and he had no plan in mind but he had to stop the orc from beheading the dwarf prince.

Bilbo rammed into the orc and thankfully, the hobbit had built up enough speed to knock the much larger creature away from Thorin. The hobbit vaguely remembered reaching for his elvish blade to defend himself against the orc but truthfully, his mind had gone blank after he had saved Thorin. There were only a few details that he could comprehend whilst his body was taken over by instinct. The clang of steel, the heat from the fires. Some cries from a bird of prey that he couldn't quite recognize and the wind against his face. Bilbo's next clear memory was being surrounded by orcs and wargs and their king staring at him menacingly.

"Your party has left you Halfling. Now you are mine to do with as I please."

Bilbo looked around to see that he was the only one of his party left at the edge of the cliff. He wracked his memory and vaguely recalled that the bird cries he remembered had been the sound of eagles—everyone but him had been saved by the majestic creatures. He remembered that it wasn't for their lack of trying that he remained; he had been snatched up by an eagle only to be dropped again when an orc had let an arrow loose into the eagle's talons. He truly was alone.

"What are you waiting for? Kill me." Bilbo said with a lot more confidence than he felt. He didn't want to die, but he knew that death would probably be his fate when he decided to rejoin the party after their misadventure in the Misty Mountains. At least he had achieved something to redeem himself in the eyes of the dwarf party before his death.

Bilbo stared at the ground not wanting to see the incoming killing strike. He only hoped that the orcs would be merciful enough to give him a quick death, though he had heard no accounts of orcs being merciful. He waited and waited, but still he continued draw breath.

The hobbit looked up warily to see the reason for the delay, but all he saw were the orcs' snarling faces as they bickered and the wargs' terrifying teeth as they growled at him. When he turned to look at Azog, the pale orc looked just as menacing but his eyes had gained a contemplative expression.

Suddenly Azog barked out some commands in words that Bilbo could not understand and he closed his eyes knowing that this time, those were the words signalled his death.

To his utter surprise, Bilbo was, again, not killed and instead he was grabbed by an orc and manhandled to sit on a warg directly in front of said orc. Bilbo's blade had been confiscated earlier so he had no weapon to fight, but he had no need for it as there was no fight to be had; they were now moving quickly through the forest. The orc pack was on the move and with them was one little hobbit. Their destination was unknown to Bilbo and the hobbit didn't know whether to be relieved that they had spared him or filled with dread that they had delayed his death.

Questions filled the hobbit's thoughts and the stress of his situation, plus the dying adrenaline from the fight, caused the hobbit to become sleepy. He fought against the oncoming slumber as hard as he could, but his body was just too tired and the little hobbit slumped forward on the warg unconscious to the happenings of the world around him.

When Bilbo woke up, it was morning the next day. He found himself covered with some leathery sort of cloth, lying down on hard rock. When he looked around, he saw that he was on top of a huge rock structure that was around two stories high and 40 feet in diameter. Around him were a bunch of orcs and wargs and even some goblins. Most of them were asleep, but some were awake on watch which caused Bilbo's thoughts of escape to stop with a screeching halt.

One of the orcs had noticed his movement and had started to yell in the same language Azog had spoken, waking up the others. Bilbo wrapped himself in the leather blanket in hopes of making himself less noticeable, but to no avail.

A goblin approached him and offered him a bowl of food, which Bilbo took to keep from offending his captors, but didn't eat. He stared at the strange coloured lumps inside the bowl and wondered if he was going to die by food poisoning.

"Eat up Halfling. You will need your strength later tonight." It was an orc that Bilbo hadn’t seen before who had spoken, not that Bilbo had taken time before to note down the differences of orcs he had encountered, and it looked upon the hobbit with a sneer.

"I have a name you know, it's Bilbo Baggins of the Shire," the blond hobbit spoke up before he could stop himself. He quickly put a hand to his mouth to keep any more words from escaping.

‘Oh, Bilbo, you foolish Took!’ Why must he run his mouth at the most inconvenient of times?

The orc who had spoken gave a high screechy laugh. "If you survive the night then I will gladly call you by name, but for now you are nothing, Halfling," the orc replied, putting emphasis on the last word.

Bilbo ignored the orc's insult and turned back to the food. There was no escaping the fact that he was stuck here and extremely hungry; he was used to a good 5 meals a day and he hadn't eaten for the past two days. Bilbo gingerly took a small lump from the bowl and placed it in his mouth. He found that it didn't taste too foul and quickly gobbled up the rest. It wasn't the best meal he'd had for sure, but it was extremely filling.

He placed the bowl on the stone floor and then bundled himself back up in his blanket. The orc's words came back to him as he rested and he couldn't help but wonder, what exactly was so important about surviving tonight?

The day wore on and Bilbo was given three meals and a few drinks of water which rejuvenated his strength. As the sun fell, Bilbo's nerves began to rise as he wondered if now his death would come. Bilbo shook his head to clear his mind of those thoughts. They wouldn't just kill him now, especially after giving him food and allowing him to rest.

Bilbo didn't have to wait long to find out what was going to happen to him. Azog had reappeared from wherever he stayed during the day; the pale orc then sat down on the throne Bilbo had noticed earlier.

Azog said some words and then Bilbo was pushed to the middle of the rock structure while the orcs, goblins and wargs moved to the edges forming a circle around him.

A huge orc stepped from the crowd and joined Bilbo in the center. There was a clattering sound that came from behind Bilbo—he turned to see that it was his sword. It shone in the darkness with a bright blue colour due to the huge contingency of orcs and goblins around him.

The orcs and goblins were cheering as if they were in an arena witnessing a gladiator fight and it was then that Bilbo realized he was one of the gladiators. Azog let out a yell and the creatures under his rule fell silent. The pale orc motioned for Bilbo to pick up his sword and, at first, Bilbo wanted to refuse but thought against it because he would probably be put to death anyway if he refused to fight.

More foreign words erupted from Azog's mouth and then he paused to focus on the two combatants in front of him. Bilbo gulped loudly and he turned his attention from Azog to the orc that he was to fight.

After he heard Azog speak again, Bilbo quickly went into action and dodged the oncoming strike from his opponent. Their swords clashed often and the ring of the metals would have echoed in the darkness if not for the cacophony of yells from the onlookers of the fight.

Bilbo used his speed to dodge and block his opponent's strikes and he even managed to slice his opponent's side in a quick and impulsive strike when his opponent's guard was down. The orc he was facing was a lot more powerful and much larger than Bilbo; an advantage he used to tire the hobbit down and always keep the hobbit on the defensive.

As the fight continued, the odds grew to be in the orc's favour and Bilbo knew that he had to end this soon if he wanted to survive. In a last ditch effort, Bilbo caught one of his opponent’s downward slices with his sword and pushed back causing the orc to be momentarily off balance from surprise. Bilbo used this opportunity to quickly slash his opponent right on the chest. The orc fell on the floor in pain and instinctively Bilbo brought his sword down to stab the orc in the middle of his chest stopping all further movement from the orc and killing it instantly.

The cheers grew louder as Bilbo dropped to the ground with exhaustion. He couldn't believe it… he had actually beaten the orc single handedly. If the dwarfs could see him now, they would know that he wasn't just a useless hobbit who wasn't even a real burglar.

Bilbo took no notice of Azog's cruel grin which appeared after Bilbo had won his fight. He also paid no attention to the words that came out of the king's mouth as the blond hobbit was too busy taking in his victory. What finally brought Azog to Bilbo's attention was when the pale orc switched to the common tongue and said, "Rise, my mate, you have proven yourself worthy."

Bilbo looked up wide-eyed at the pale orc. 'Did he say mate?' Bilbo's jaw was ajar as he stumbled onto his feet in shock. "Hold on, did you just say mate?" this time, aloud. At that moment, Bilbo didn't even care that speaking may have caused him to die. All he wanted was answers.

"You caught my interest when you defended that worthless dwarf king and now that you have proven yourself a strong warrior by defeating my right hand, I have chosen you as my mate."

Bilbo almost fainted at Azog's words and probably would have if fainting wouldn't have made him weaker in the eyes of the Gundabad King. He had to play his part if he was ever going to get out of this mess.

More orders were handed out in the black tongue–Bilbo really needed to learn that if he was going to spend more time around orcs–and a couple of orcs and goblins came to him and led him away. Somewhere inside the rock structure, which was actually the entrance to a huge underground nest of goblins and orcs, Bilbo was placed onto a bed before another orc came with a thin blade and black ink. It was dressed differently from the warriors he usually encountered.

There was no warning before the new orc began to slice into Bilbo's left neck and shoulder. Every slice was accompanied with a dab of ink which made the wound burn, but Bilbo didn't cry out. Instead, he only let out hisses as his sign of pain. He kept his mind focused on Thorin and the company to drown out the pain—he would return to them if it was the last thing he did.

It seemed like hours before the orc was finished marking up his skin; really, it had not even reached the hour mark. The orc muttered some words before cleaning the excess ink from Bilbo's skin leaving some strange runes in place of what used to be unmarred skin.

"What is that?" Bilbo asked aloud, more to himself than to the orc since not many orcs or goblins seemed to understand the common tongue.

"It is the mark of Azog. Now all orc and goblin will know you are his."

Bilbo swallowed down bile, almost throwing up. Bilbo knew that the marks on his neck would be there forever; some of his cousins on the Took side had shown him black marks they had called tattoos and he remembered saying to himself that he would never get them. Who would want some image on your skin that would stay there until your death? Now here he was with a tattoo that said that he was basically the property of an orc king. Not for the first time, Bilbo wished he had never left his cozy Hobbit hole. The strangely dressed orc who had given him the tattoo said some words to the group that had taken him inside the nest before turning back to Bilbo. "These are your guards. Each was selected by his majesty. They answer to you. One of them will now take you to his majesty."

Bilbo took in the appearance of his bodyguards and recognized one of the orcs as the one who told him to eat earlier.

"Hello again Lord Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, mate of his majesty, Azog the pale orc." Bilbo grimaced at the orc's greeting. "Follow me to his majesty," the orc continued with a wicked smile on his face.

Bilbo walked silently behind the orc through the maze of bridges in the nest. It was odd walking past other orcs and goblins because they looked at him with a sort of reverence, slightly bowing their heads, instead of the usual anger or hunger he faced. His guide led him to the entrance of a well-lit room and stopped just outside before stepping aside to let Bilbo through. "His majesty awaits inside, my lord."

Bilbo steeled himself to be alone with his captor and then walked in with his head held high. His bravado faded though the instant he saw what was inside. Azog was there as expected but what Bilbo wasn't expecting was the bed where Azog lay and the hungry look aimed towards him.

"Come, my mate, and fulfill your duties."

*

All reason almost left Bilbo as the urge to run overcame him. Of course he would be expected to fulfill his duties. They were married in the mind of the orc and despite everything telling him to run, he couldn't, not if he wanted to be reunited with the dwarfs or even return to the Shire.

Bilbo forced himself to walk towards the bed and towards Azog—he refused to think of the orc as his mate. All too soon he was at the side of the bed and now he stared at the floor unsure of what to do. Thankfully, he didn't have to initiate anything because Azog was at ease with giving the small hobbit instructions.

"Undress yourself," came the low, gravelly command.

Bilbo undressed himself quickly and mechanically but it didn't seem to matter the way in which he undressed himself, Azog's hungry stare remained.

"On the bed and on your knees, facing the wall," Azog said, moving to make room on the bed for the hobbit. Bilbo carried out the instructions without a hint of emotion. He kept himself from thinking of what would happen next and just focused on the reason he had to do this.

Azog took in the beautiful sight his mate made. The arch of the lightly sun-tanned back of his mate and the offered rear made the desire in the orc king grow. He laid his right hand on his mate's waist and brought him closer so that his erect shaft was pressed against his mate's backside. Azog groaned as he thrust lightly, rubbing himself against his mate whom he would soon mark as his with his seed.

Bilbo kept still as Azog began to take pleasure from him, afraid that he would collapse or throw up if he made any sound or movement. Bilbo couldn't help but make a choked sound when he felt Azog retreat slightly only to have the rubbing sensation be replaced by the feel of two slimy fingers at his entrance. The fingers felt rough as they entered him without care, coating his insides with some sort of oil. Bilbo gritted his teeth in pain, he hadn't been stretched enough to take in two of his captor's fingers. Still he tried to relax because it would only be worse for him if his muscles remained tense.

Azog took his fingers out of his mate and then took some more oil to coat himself. He lined up his shaft to his mate's entrance and then with one hard thrust, he was inside.

Bilbo let out a grunt at the searing pain in his backside. There was no relief for the hobbit; Azog continued to thrust, withholding Bilbo of any time to adjust to the intrusion. Bilbo was absolutely disgusted by Azog's moans and remained limp and silent throughout the entire experience. He focused on the thought that one day he would kill the orc who was defiling him. That thought kept him from yelling out in horror when Azog released his seed into Bilbo—instead it gave him more reason to persist and come out stronger from his defilement.

*

For the very first time in his existence, Azog felt at peace. He cleaned his mate with a cloth and then pulled him up so that his mate was flush against him. He breathed out a contented sigh before letting himself drift off to sleep. Even though that wretched dwarf, Thorin Oakenshield, had escaped at least he got a beautiful, strong mate in exchange.

It was after Azog had gone to sleep that Bilbo let his emotions go. Tears poured down Bilbo's cheeks as the earlier confusion, fear, and finally anguish washed over him. That night, Bilbo cried himself to sleep.

Chapter Text

Bilbo woke up naked but thankfully alone. He was sore and felt dirty. He wanted to clean all the dirt and grime and, most pressingly, he wanted to be rid of last night's evidence from his body.

He dressed himself in his clothes which lay on the floor and then headed for the door. Outside the room he met up with the same orc from yesterday. "Take me someplace to clean up," Bilbo said shortly. He wasn't in the mood to be polite and definitely didn't want to hear any of the greetings the orc had to offer him.

"Of course, my lord." The orc led him further underground until they hit an underground spring. Bilbo told the orc to leave him alone and then did the best he could to feel clean. He practically rubbed his skin raw but that was what it took to achieve any sense of ridding Azog's touch on his body.

When Bilbo left the water he saw that his old clothes were missing. In their place was leather orc armour in his size. He considered his only other option and thought, 'Why the hell not?' He was already stuck with orcs for the foreseeable future, and the armour was cleaner than his clothes and better than nothing at all.

"What now, my lord?" the orc had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, startling the hobbit. What to do now, that was a good question.

"Where is Azog?" Bilbo asked—he needed time and space away from the pale orc to accomplish his objectives: kill the orc and leave this place. An ugly expression appeared on the orc's face which prompted Bilbo to ask what was wrong.

"His majesty is out with a hunting pack following the dwarves' trail and because I was chosen to be a part of your guard I could not join." Bilbo looked at the orc in surprise. He didn't know that orcs could feel anything other than anger, fear and hunger. Something other than surprise must have appeared on Bilbo's face because the orc suddenly became angry. "I don't need some Halfling pitying me," he growled out.

"I don't pity you!" Bilbo sputtered out. "What's your name anyway?" Bilbo didn’t want to keep denoting the orcs by numbers or descriptors like ‘the guide’ in his head when there were hundreds of orcs in the nest—he could see it becoming confusing very quickly. Additionally, he now had proof that they weren’t just primal beings, consuming and destroying wherever they went—they had individual thought too.

"I am called Gurak," Bilbo's guide answered with a strange expression on his face.

"Well then Gurak," Bilbo said clearing his throat and fiddling with his shirt. "Our next order of business will be getting something to eat and meeting up with the rest of my guard. I want to get to know the people who are supposed to protect me." Gurak made a strange sound which resembled a disbelieving snort but otherwise made no sound of complaint. Gurak let Bilbo outside and into the surrounding forest where he made some guttural sounds and caught the attention of five other orcs and two goblins who were bickering with others in the surrounding forest. Gurak made a few more words before switching to the common tongue.

"These are Bazul, Ushnar, Khargol, Arob and Marad, the only female in your guard." Gurak said, pointing to each of the orcs one by one. Bilbo couldn't help but try to spot any difference between the female orc and the males but he saw none. "These two are Rem and Zragd," Gurak finished witht he goblins.

"Right err, it's good to finally know your names." Bilbo said as he placed the name to the face of each orc or goblin. It was no easy feat, they all looked so similar. "So, shall we go find food?"

Gurak nodded to Bilbo's guard and then his guard all let out a shrill whistle. The ground shook as eight wargs ran towards their riders. Each orc and goblin easily swung themselves up onto their warg leaving Bilbo standing there the only one without a mount. It appeared as if they would have to hunt their food and once again Bilbo was feeling a bit lost.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let out a whistle and call your warg," Gurak said with much exasperation, as if he were talking to a child.

"My warg? I don't have one," Bilbo replied, absolutely flummoxed.

"Your warg chose you last night when you defeated Bor in battle. Now hurry it up little lord. We're all starving," Gurak said, annoyed.

Bilbo decided there was no harm in amusing Gurak's assumptions and let out his best whistle; it wasn't as shrill as the orcs' or goblins' but was still a decent volume. It was a surprise when he heard the stomping of warg feet and then out of the forest a magnificent silver warg appeared. Bilbo turned to look at his astonished guard and gave them the first real grin he'd had since he left the Shire.

"Shall we go hunt?"

It was already late afternoon when Bilbo and his guard set out for their hunt—Bilbo had apparently slept the entire day away—which was a good thing since orcs and goblins favoured the darkness to the light. Their wargs quickly smelt a herd of deer a few miles out and the group began racing towards their prey. The only weapon on Bilbo's person was his elvish sword, which had been returned to him by Gurak after he had called his warg, and so wasn't very helpful in taking down the deer.

His guard and their wargs took down three deer in total, all old or previously injured because apparently orcs and goblins actually cared about the future populations of their meals. They shared their spoils amongst everyone, including the wargs, and ate their fill. What they didn't finish they placed into rawhide bags for later.

While the orcs, goblins, and wargs were fine off a diet of pure protein, Bilbo needed some greens mixed in with his meals so asked for an extra bag when his guard was packing up the extra meat so that he could collect some apples from the nearby tree he had spotted.

The hobbit easily climbed up the tree which amazed the orcs and goblins since they were terrible climbers. "Marad wants to know what you're doing up a tree," Gurak translated for the female orc when she asked a question.

"I'm collecting apples. They're sweet red fruit," Bilbo answered. He looked downwards to see the curious looks of his guard and decided to let them have a taste. "Here, try some," he called out before dropping one into Marad's open hands. The female orc looked at the strange food and gave it a whiff. There was nothing wrong with its scent and so she bit into it only to spit it out right away and make a strange hacking sound. She let out what Bilbo assumed were curses which caused the other orcs and goblins to laugh. Bilbo couldn't help but join in.

He climbed back down the tree with his bag full of apples and then gave Marad an apologetic look. "I guess you all really are carnivores," Bilbo said before biting into one of the apples he collected. His guard gave him disgusted looks but Bilbo just smiled in response.

The group climbed back onto their wargs and headed back to the nest. Once there, Bilbo turned towards his guard and asked them what they usually do now.

Gurak translated Bilbo's question to the others and then said, "We usually talk or fight amongst ourselves or we sleep."

"Right okay… Well, I'd really like to learn how to speak your language and how to use a bow and arrow since I don't think throwing a spear is something meant for my stature."

Gurak conversed with the guard before it seemed they came to an agreement. "I'm the only one who knows the common tongue, so it falls to me to teach you orcish. Once you're decent at that, Rem has offered to teach you the goblin tongue. Zragd and Marad will switch off with teaching you how to use a bow and you will train with your sword skill with Bazul and Ushnar since your technique is atrocious. You were very lucky that you won against Bor. Khargol and Arob will teach you how to properly ride your warg. Today, you were just hanging on to the silver one's fur, afraid to fall off—it was offensive to see you ride."

Bilbo opened his mouth to make a spiteful comment about how he wasn't born for this kind of life before thinking better of it. It didn't matter what kind of life he led in the past because this was his life now and he needed new skills if he wanted to survive. So instead of complaining Bilbo took the harsh criticism and gave his guards a nod before asking, "What do I learn first?"

And so, Bilbo's sleeping schedule changed and during the days he would sleep in the barracks where his guard slept—he refused to sleep in the bed where Azog took him. At nights they would all go on a hunt and then come back to the nest where Bilbo would learn orcish and later the goblin language.

He shot arrows until his fingers could no longer pull back the bow string, swung his sword until his arms groaned and perfected his warg riding abilities until the rest of his body was sore. He stopped his studies only to eat on the short breaks he insisted on having—his guard may survive on one big feast of meat at night but Bilbo needed to eat throughout the time that he was awake.

During his training, Bilbo and his guards slowly got to know each other better and Bilbo surprised himself when he realized that he had begun to feel at ease with them. They were so different from hobbitfolk, and dwarven folk too but less so, Bilbo didn’t know how to feel about that change that had occurred in him to be able to accept races who lived so differently compared to how a gentle hobbit should live. It wasn’t a thought that he lingered on because doing so caused internal strife that he didn’t need—he still had the threat of Azog’s return over his head and he needed to be focused on his primary goal.

One night, about a week after Azog had left to look for Thorin, the schedule that Bilbo and his guard had set up was disrupted unexpectedly. It was during one of Ushnar's sword fighting lessons; Bilbo noticed the orc becoming more and more agitated. The orc’s movements during their spar were becoming more sloppy as a result and Bilbo quickly put a stop to their bout with a well-placed strike, leaving Ushnar without a sword.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked in orcish. He was now fluent enough to hold simple conversations; being surrounded by only orcs and goblins really quickened the language learning process.

Bilbo's question only served to make Ushnar even more agitated which caused Bilbo to look around for the orc's initial trigger.

In the distance he saw a group of orcs looking in their direction and while Bilbo couldn't hear what they were saying he knew that orcs had better hearing and whatever they were saying had to be insults in Ushnar’s direction.

A strange anger filled Bilbo's blood as he walked over to the group of orcs. Outwardly he looked calm, but really he was ready to give those orcs a tongue-lashing with a splash of violence because, compared to Ushnar, they were nothing in Bilbo’s eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that this was not how he usually behaved, but he placed those thoughts aside where he would consider them later. Right now he had a singular focus on his objective: teach the orcs who was their superior.

"Could you repeat what you said about my guard?" Bilbo asked calmly in orcish once he was a couple of feet away from the group of orcs. The orcs stopped their chatter and turned to sneer at Bilbo. Before one of them could say a word though Bilbo raised his sword and held it level to the nearest orc's throats.

"Do not forget that you speak to your king's mate. Be careful how you act." The guttural sounds of the orc tongue made his words all the more menacing and the orcs quickly adapted a more submissive stance. None of them dared to speak out what they had said earlier fearing the resulting punishment.

"Well? I'm waiting." Bilbo brought his glowing blade closer to the orc's neck so that it actually gave the orc a small nick after which the orc finally began to speak.

"We called Ushnar your bitch since he does whatever you please. We also talked about how he had become weak since he was an esteemed warrior and now he is stuck teaching…" the orc hesitated to continue but one look at Bilbo's glare made him go on, "he is now teaching a child how to walk."

"I see," Bilbo withdrew his sword. "And I am this child you speak of." The silence from the group of orcs was more than enough confirmation.

"Draw your swords," Bilbo said after a moment of contemplation. A voice inside his head panicked and asked what the hell he was doing but Bilbo squashed it down and kept his eyes focused on the group of orcs who were confused but had drawn their swords. "Now attack me." The orcs looked at each other, flummoxed but Bilbo was dead serious in his order. "I said attack me!" he yelled out in orcish and attacked the nearest orc. The orc defended himself and the other four finally understood what Bilbo wanted them to do and attacked the small hobbit.

Just a couple of weeks ago Bilbo would have been terrified and ran away but now he was dodging and attacking with such grace and finesse that he easily knocked away each and every sword out of the orcs' hands.

The orcs stared at Bilbo with frightened eyes expecting death to be their sentence. "I should kill you," Bilbo began earning whimpers from the orcs. "You forgot your place beneath me and beneath my guard," he continued.

"We're sorry, we were only joking," one of the orcs cried out.

"Then learn to hold your tongues!" Bilbo shouted in response. He paused for a moment, taking pleasure in their scared forms. The voice from before came back and asked what the hell Bilbo had become, but Bilbo didn't care. He couldn't keep acting the way he did in the Shire because otherwise, he wouldn't survive.

"I won't kill you," Bilbo finally said, giving the orcs relief. "But forget your place again and I won't hesitate to chop off your heads."

"Don't forget that you're my bitches," Bilbo said before turning his back on them and heading towards Ushnar who was staring at him with something akin to reverence.

After that night, Bilbo's guard started looking at him differently. Previously, there had been respect, not a lot of it, but he did kill their second in command in a one on one fight, no matter if it was by sheer luck. There was also a lot of annoyance since they had to teach Bilbo every orc and goblin custom. Now though, the respect was overwhelming and Bilbo felt that they may also, dare he think it, trust him. The notion was absurd, but once Bilbo began to reflect on how he viewed his guard he would actually say that he trusted them too.

Bilbo's comradeship towards his guard was tested one night when they went a little too far north-east from their territory and came too close to wood elf territory. It just so happened that a group of elves were scouting the perimeter of their forest and they caught sight of Bilbo and his company with their superior elf vision.

Bilbo's company continued riding, unaware of the danger they were in, and then to Bilbo's far right Arob gave out a cry as he was shot off of his warg. "Elves!" the orc yelled out in the Black Speech.

It was a testament to how much Bilbo had grown to care about his guard that his first thought was not 'Elves! I am finally saved,' and instead it was 'Damn it, we've come too close to elf territory, we need to turn back!' It didn't even occur to the hobbit to leave his company behind.

By now, the rest of the orcs and goblins in his pack had turned towards where the elves were and were readying to attack.

"No! Turn back," Bilbo ordered as he turned his warg around to go towards Arob. He held his arm downwards and grabbed Arob's outstretched arm before he used all his strength to pull the orc onto his silver warg.

Bilbo checked to make sure that the others had followed his orders and thankfully they had. The hobbit then turned towards Arob who sat behind him and he asked, "Can you ride on your own?"

The orc grunted an agreement and before whistling to call his warg back to him. Bilbo's silver warg and Arob's warg ran side by side and then Arob leapt the distance so he was seated on his warg.

"Good, go follow the others. The elves will be on our trail. I'll distract them long enough for you to get to a safe distance."

Arob looked hesitant to leave the person he was supposed to be protecting alone with elves, but eventually gave in after Bilbo reminded him who was in charge with a stern look. Once Arob was a good enough distance away, Bilbo whispered some commands to his warg before leaping down and holding his hands up in surrender. He made sure to hold up his elvish sword too to make the story he was about to spin more believable.

"Please don't shoot!" Bilbo yelled out in the common tongue. Fear was clear on his face for the elves to see. Bilbo hoped to the Valar that they didn't notice him speaking in orcish earlier otherwise his act would be over before it even began and the elves would be far too wary to believe him.

A group of five elves emerged from the trees, all as beautiful as Bilbo remembered the elves to be in Rivendell. They looked over him suspiciously, their bows still drawn and ready to fire.

"Who are you? Why are you with the orcs?"

"I'm Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit from the Shire," Bilbo sputtered out. "I was travelling with a group of dwarfs and the wizard Gandalf when the orcs captured me. I'm so glad you're here. I was able to escape my captors whilst you attacked them. For that I am grateful." Bilbo gave them what he hoped was an innocent and relieved smile. Thankfully, it worked as most of the elves began to lower their bows.

"We know of the dwarfs you speak of, we found then stumbling around in the dark. Gandalf is also known to us, he is a good friend of the elves. Come, we'll help you find your way back to your companions," one of the elves said, holding out an inviting hand.

Not all of the elves were convinced, however, and one was eyeing the tattoo on Bilbo's neck. Bilbo saw the elf's eyes widen in recognition and he opened his mouth to tell the other elves what he spied but it was already too late. Bilbo's warg had returned just as he had told it too and Bilbo pulled himself up as his warg raced by and quickly began weaving in and out of the trees to dodge the flying arrows from the angry elves whom he had deceived.

Once Bilbo was far enough to give him confidence that he had lost the elves, he gave a sigh of relief. Thank the Valar that elves weren't infallible.

When Bilbo met up with his company, he found them arguing amongst themselves. He couldn't make out what they were saying because they were all speaking at the same time. "What's this all about?"

His guard turned towards him, a lot of them showed surprise while a few looked smug. "I told you he would return!" said Arob.

"Well of course I came back. I was only distracting them so you could get away," Bilbo frowned. He didn't know why he was upset. If he were in their position, he'd probably think that he had run away too.

"Why did you even tell us to run? We could have fought them," Gurak retorted angrily.

Bilbo's grimace deepened. "Fought them, yes. Won, no. The elves had the advantage. They know their forest like the back of their hand while we made huge targets on the back of wargs. They would have hidden up in their trees and we wouldn't be able to give them a scratch let alone kill any of them. Or have you forgotten what happened to the orcs who followed the dwarfs near Rivendell. They were all but slaughtered."

Gurak looked away and growled. He didn't want to say it but he knew that Bilbo was right.

"Right then. Anyone else have any issues with what just happened?" The others all shook their heads.

"Arob, can you still join us hunting, or do you need to go back?" Bilbo asked. He had almost forgotten about the orc's wound with everything that had happened.

"They only clipped my shoulder. I'll be fine."

With everything in order, the group got back on their wargs and continued to look for their night's food. They came across a wild horse which they easily took down to eat that night. Bilbo gave his share to his warg because every time he thought of the horse, he ended up thinking of the pony he had ridden from the Shire and couldn't stomach it. So instead, he ate apples and berries he found in the forest.

There was an awkward silence over the group while they ate. It was the goblin, Zragd who finally broke it.

"Tell us what happened with the elves. It is not easy fooling their race."

Bilbo looked up from his food in surprise. They'd never shared stories of their adventures before. Nevertheless, his companions looked interested in what he had to say so he shared his story. He talked about how he used the elvish blade to help his image as a captured innocent and how scared he was that they would overlook his hobbit appearance and focus on the orc armour he wore.

He recounted how he had convinced most of the elves that he was harmless and would have succeeded in fooling them all had it not been for one of the few suspicious elves recognizing his tattoo. They all shared a laugh when Bilbo shared how the elves' faces had turned ugly and red when they found out they had been tricked.

When Bilbo realized that he was laughing about how he'd tricked elves, the race he had idolized so much, he couldn't help but laugh even harder. He never thought he would be in this position: laughing with the supposed enemy. Much later on, he would recount this moment to his nephew as one of his fonder memories.

Bilbo felt weird thinking it, but he was happy here with orcs and goblins who respected him and listened to him. He only remembered feeling such joy in his youth when he was out looking for elves in the bushes of Hobbiton.

The feeling carried on for the next few days but it couldn't stay. Not when he was still technically Azog's captive. The pale orc would eventually return and he did return. Three weeks after he left, Azog came back to the nest in the middle of the night, angry and accompanied by less orcs than the number that left with him.

It was obvious that Thorin and the others had escaped his grasp again, for which Bilbo was grateful. Still, it meant that Azog was in a mood and only one thing would console him. Bilbo, however, refused to let anyone or anything ruin him again.

Chapter Text

It was while Bilbo and his guard were sharing their stories of different encounters with trolls that Bilbo first caught sight of him. Azog and his white warg stood out in the darkness, anger and frustration from the failed expedition was clear on his figure, and Bilbo froze in fear. Bilbo felt helpless as he remembered that night. Noticing Bilbo’s state, his guard quickly surrounded him, blocking the hobbit from Azog’s gaze.

“Move aside. I wish to see my mate,” Azog growled.

“My lord Baggins does not wish to see his highness,” Marad replied. She did not move an inch and neither did any of the others in Bilbo’s guard.

This only caused Azog to become angrier. “I am your king!” he shouted.

“We answer to my lord Baggins first, your majesty,” Rem retorted. Bilbo was touched by his guard’s loyalty but it didn’t change the fact that Azog was pissed off and was exuding a barely controlled bloodlust.

The pale orc raised his blade and was about to bring it down when Bilbo pushed the orcs in front of him aside to face Azog. Panic rose up in Bilbo’s throat, but he forced himself to swallow it back down. He took deep breaths, steeling himself, before opening his mouth to speak.

“Welcome back,” Bilbo greeted.

Azog lowered his blade and then grinned triumphantly at the sight of his mate. “I see you’ve learnt the Black Speech. It pleases me that you’ve taken initiative to act like an orc king’s mate.”

Bilbo cleared his throat before responding. “Yes well, I’ve proven myself to you but you’ve done nothing to prove that you are the king you claim to be.”

Azog responded with a snarl. “Careful my little mate, it would do you no good to anger me.”

“I’m merely stating what I’ve observed. Today you failed to bring back your enemy’s head and you failed to do so when we first met.”

Bilbo stopped himself from flinching when Azog moved closer to Bilbo, his pale frame towering over Bilbo’s.

“Very well, it seems as if you’re determined to fight. So let’s fight. I’ll prove to you that your place is below me, especially in bed.” Azog began to walk up the slope to the top of the rock structure and Bilbo followed him feeling slightly faint.

This was it. This fight would decide how Bilbo would spend the rest of his life. Just win this fight and he would be free to do whatever he wished. Lose and…he wouldn’t lose.

The two walked to the center of the rock formation and faced each other, swords drawn. Around them were cheering orcs and goblins much like during Bilbo’s fight against Bor. A small group though was silent. This group did not want to see their little lord get hurt but they also knew that they could do nothing more to help—they hoped Bilbo would come out the victor.

Without warning, Azog rushed forward and slashed down nearly slicing Bilbo’s shoulder. It was only thanks the past three weeks of training and hunting that he was able to dodge the unexpected attack. The two traded blows and for an excruciatingly long time nothing landed.

Azog sliced his blade towards Bilbo’s arm and Bilbo moved backwards to avoid it, but Azog’s reach was too long and Bilbo got nicked on his cheek. First blood went to Azog.

“You know that I’ll win this fight,” Azog taunted the hobbit. “Surrender and save yourself some misery.”

Bilbo touched the cut and felt a sting as he accidentally opened it. The cut wasn’t too bad. “I can’t give up,” Bilbo replied. “It’s just not what a Took would do.”

The hobbit took a stab at Azog’s unarmoured chest and his sword actually contacted skin. The glowing elvish sword cut through rough skin and hard flesh, going quite deep. Deep enough that it would add to the scars already on Azog’s chest after it healed.

Azog roared and retaliated with fury. Bilbo did all he could just to defend himself from the furious slashes, aimed to kill—Azog, in his anger, didn’t care to preserve his mate’s life anymore. Just as quickly as the stab that ended Bor’s life, Bilbo threw a slash at Azog which landed on his right arm. There was enough power behind for the sword to slice clean through muscle and bone. Azog’s right arm now matched his left.

A loud angry cry filled the air and Azog thrust his clawed prosthetic hand at Bilbo, gutting him. Azog grinned triumphantly for the second time that night.

“It’s not over yet,” Bilbo spat out. The hobbit took his sword and sliced it upwards at Azog’s neck. With nothing to defend him Azog could only watch as the sword drew closer to his exposed nape. And then, with a gross slick, the pale orc’s neck was sliced open.

“It stings, doesn’t it?” Bilbo said to the dying orc. The hobbit watched the light fade from Azog’s eyes, the orc’s blood gushing from his neck onto Bilbo. When Azog was no more, Bilbo let himself succumb to his own wounds. He coughed up blood before falling back, unconscious from the blood loss.

Chapter Text

Bilbo awakened in a fog of distant angry shouts, growls and a surpisingly comfortable bed. Still hazy from his injuries, he took note of his surroundings and recognized it as Azog’s room. Though, since he had killed Azog, it was his room now by right of conquest

Wincing, Bilbo looked down towards the source of his pain. ‘Right, I was skewered like a pig getting prepped for a good roast.’

His abdomen was wrapped haphazardly—he was honestly surprised to have survived his injury with such sloppy treatment. ‘One of my guards must have treated me…” he thought to himself. ‘Well they are known for being destructive. It only makes sense that they’d be bollocks at healing.’

The sound of the door opening caught Bilib’s attention. With the door, Bilbo could identify the sounds that initially woke him up as a mixture of yells and clashes of steel.

“Your Majesty! Finally, you’re awake,” it was Zragd, the goblin, who had entered, along with Khargol, the orc. “Everyone is fighting about who the new leader is.”

Bilbo took a moment to realize that Zragd was speaking to him. In his daze, he momentarily forgot that killing Azog would make him the new king.

“They’re all scum. His Majesty Baggins is clearly the new leader as Azog’s slayer,” Khargol spat out, his disapproval clear.

This was not what Bilbo needed to hear after waking up from an almost lethal injury. Along with the immense throbbing pain he felt in his gut, he was now getting a headache. He rubbed at his temples which helped a little to ease his head. ‘Focus Bilbo! You’re not immediately in danger of getting skewered so this should be a piece of cake.’

“Okay, what are the others doing right now?” Yes, good job Bilbo. More information was always good.

“Ensuring no one enters without your permission,” Khargol replied.

“Can you hold out for another day?”

Khargol scowled at the question as if offended, “Of course, your majesty. We will hold for as long as his majesty wishes.”

Bilbo blinked at the uncharacteristic show of pride in the orc but pushed it aside to focus on the matter at hand. He really had to stop being surprised when he discovered that orcs were more than what everyone touted them to be.

“Good, good. Next, I need something to draw with. I’m going to draw herbs that will help with this,” Bilbo motioned to his stomach area, “and I need one of you to collect the herbs. Finally, I need clean cloth cut into long strips to redress my wounds.” The hobbit looked to the goblin and orc to see if they understood fully or if he would need to further clarify.

Khargol and Zragd exchanged some quick and quiet words between them, too quiet for Bilbo to hear in his addled state, before looking back at Bilbo. “I will collect the items you require, your majesty,” Zragd said.

“I will rejoin the others to deal with the rabble,” Khargol added.

Bilbo nodded his head, careful not to move too quickly to stay his headache. “Great, wake me when you’re back with the cloth and drawing supplies. I am going to rest so we can deal with that properly tomorrow,” Bilbo said, gesturing to the door.

Trusting that his guards had things handled now, Bilbo once again let himself succumb to the pain. This time, he thankfully had a pillow and bed to catch him, instead of hard rock. His last thought before passing out was that maybe he had hit his head previously, and a head injury was the reason for his headache instead of a result of dealing with the chaos of a horde of orcs and goblins without a leader.

Bilbo was extremely pleased with himself when his plan materialized itself as expected. He had been woken up twice in the 24 hours that he had given himself to prepare to face the horde. The first time was to draw the herbs Zragd needed to collect and to redress himself. It needed both him and Zragd to untangle the mess of cloth that had initially been keeping the hobbit from bleeding out. Bilbo had ended up using all the cloth that Zragd had initially brought to redress his wounds so Bilbo requested for more when the goblin came back with the herbs he drew.

The second time he was awake was much shorter than the first. Bilbo instructed Zragd on the proper preparation of the herbs while he undid his bandages. Once that was done, he quickly put the herbs on his wounds, hissing when he rushed a bit, and then put the new bandages on. The rest of the time he spent resting, and it was worth it when he woke up the next day.

He still wasn’t feeling his best, but compared to the previous day, his headache was all but gone, and the pain in his gut had dulled, thanks to the herbs that Zragd had collected. Now, he could think on how to deal with the horde outside.

Despite the truth in Khargol’s words about him being the new leader by right of combat, Bilbo didn’t want to lead. ‘Silly hobbit, that’s what you’ve already been doing for close to a month now.’

Bilbo had to stop himself from giggling at the thought. It was preposterous, a gentle hobbit like him actually leading a group of orcs and goblins and successfully too, for close to a month! It was thrust upon him without his consent, but he did his best with what he was given. Now though, he had a choice.

He considered everything he knew about how the horde structure worked and thought of a strategy. Bilbo needed to find a way out of this mess. He didn’t kill the biggest obstacle in his way only to fail to rejoin Thorin’s company because of politics!

Plan set, Bilbo got up from bed and looked around for his armour and sword. He found his sword but no armor. Instead he found his old clothes from when he was captured. ‘I see...someone must have cleaned them and left them here after that incident.’

Bilbo dressed himself in his own clothes for the first time in weeks, feeling like he was finally being a hundred percent true to himself since he took up his sword in defence of his dwarven prince. ‘Wait, his?’

The hobbit shook his head at his thoughts. If only Thorin could see him now. He was confident and sturdy in his choices; the dwarf prince would not have recognized him as the prissy and flighty hobbit he was before. Heck, Bilbo from a month ago wouldn’t have recognized who he was now.

Dressed and armed, Bilbo steeled himself against the pain to open the door. The orcs respected strength and would take advantage of any weaknesses shown.

Ready, Bilbo opened the door and took in a surprisingly deserted hallway. The sounds of fighting and arguing could be heard above him—his guard must have directed everyone to the outcrop above.

When he left the tunnels, he beheld two factions of orcs and goblins facing off. Bilbo stepped closer and whistled loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. Hearing its master’s whistle, Bilbo’s silver warg came bounding towards its chosen master, barrelling through any orcs and goblins in its way. With his warg at his side, Bilbo addressed the horde in front of him.

“I am Bilbo Baggins, Azog’s slayer. I have no time for the petty squabbles I see before me. I have sworn to steal from a dragon and Azog paid with his life for stealing me away before I could complete my quest. If anyone dares make the same mistake, they will meet the same fate.”

Bilbo swung himself up on his warg and looked at the now quiet horde in front of him. He lingered longer on the eight who made up his guard—he was struck again by how much fondness and trust he had for his guard. He was going to need them for the task that lay ahead.

His last clue to the dwarves' whereabouts was in Mirkwood. One of the elves had said they found them stumbling in the dark when he had been distracting them by playing victim. Bilbo had a contract to fulfill but he needed to get this vile place in order lest they interfere with the dwarves yet again.

‘You're the king of this place now Bilbo. You have the power to make this place less vile,’ he encouraged himself.

‘Right, enough dilly dallying.’ It was time to get to work.