Chapter Text
It was very rare when someone got curious about how the Shire had yet to be taken over. It would normally be a highly targeted area as the weather is normally pleasant, the land was extra ordinarily fertile, and the inhabitants peaceful folk who wouldn’t know what a sword looked like never mind be proficient at using one. So it would normally be easy pickings for any kingdom in need or want of more farm land and such.
Then why does the thought of leading an attack on the Hobbits never cross the minds of kings?
It is a very curious subject, until you dig ever so slightly deeper, as it would seem that the Shire was indeed protected by non-other than the human Rangers and Elves of Rivendell. And so they should, the Hobbits always had a surplus of produce that they happily traded for around the clock protection which made keeping food on the table so much easier as many preferred not to attack the land.
This would be when everyone would stop digging, satisfied with the answer they have discovered and never even considered the possibility of something more going on than they had first expected.
It was not commonly known that the Hobbits were created by Yavanna for the purpose of purifying the land of any evil through the tending of the earth and plant life. However, there was a small problem with having such peaceful creatures going against the likes of aggressive and violent orcs that would wipe them out with little effort and much pleasure.
But of course the great Green Lady had already anticipated such trials for her children and set an odd sort of quirk in their biology, a quirk that allowed the Hobbits to fight on equal terms and allowed them to thrive at the same time.
It was what the Hobbits now call the Hunger. The state they can tap into in which they lose all sense of respectability in order to fill their stomach with something, and in most cases it was their enemies.
This is what stopped any try to take their land in the days past, and the subconscious fear of such frightful creatures was kept in every sentient being on Middle Earth.
Never get between a Hobbit and its food else you become the food.
This was why Bilbo was sure Gandalf was trying to kill them all. Why else would he bring him on such a long adventure with such little supplies? Honestly, he would have expected that his mother had at least stressed how much food a hobbit needed to the wizard. But whenever Bilbo gave said wizard a meaningful glare, it was always received with a confused look, as though Gandalf wasn’t aware that he had a hungry hobbit on his hands.
It didn’t help that the Dwarves gave him smaller rations than the others, which furthered the deep hollow ache that had started to build.
What idiot came up with the idea that a smaller body meant they needed smaller portions? Because he would very much like to give them a stern tongue lashing that would make his grandmother proud.
To make it even worse, his stomach decided that the best course of action would be to complain. Very loudly complain, to the point that, on occasion, it rivalled Bomber’s snores. This of course made the company laugh nastily and gave them even more to mock him with; or in Thorin’s case, more to demean him with.
He had started out alright. The hunger but a small uncomfortable feeling that could be easily ignored, this pulled Bilbo into a sense of security thinking that his body would be able to happily continue on three meals a day.
But, of course, with every day that passed the more the uncomfortable feeling grew to the point where it was no longer just nuisance. It grew and grew until Bilbo could barely tolerate the deep empty ache in his gut and could only just keep the tears and moans of pain from leaking out.
During the day he found himself extremely weaker than normal from the nasty combination of lack of food and excruciating pain continuously plaguing his body. He could barely focus on the pony he was on, never mind the words of the Dwarves around him and his body became much more sensitive to the change in temperature and the rough terrain the pony needed to navigate.
The nights were so much worse though. He had nothing to distract himself from the gnawing sharp pains of his stomach and body demanding food. It kept him up through the night and when he did finally manage to reach unconsciousness it woke him up once again with a sharp stab through his stomach to his heart that left him gasping for breath or, in the worse cases, his throat closing to block all attempts of breathing.
There were a few chances during the journey that Bilbo was able to excuse himself. He went deep into the trees and, after making sure no one had followed, let the tears fall and screamed silently as the pain continued to rack his body.
The whole debacle with the trolls was caused by a moment of paralysing pain. It was the first time it had become that devastatingly agonising enough to lock his body to the point that he couldn’t even make a noise, but it certainly wasn’t the last. It was that pained pause that gave the troll the opportunity to grab him, not only trying to grab the knife, but also when he was trying to run away.
The dwarves were not happy about that.
It was a miracle and a blessing combined with a little bit of luck thrown in there that he was able to think clearly enough to play for time until Gandalf finally arrived. And if he let himself fantasize about eating the dwarves, well, no one had to know.
“May the dawn take you all!” His voice boomed. Unfortunately Bilbo succumbed to his crippling pain before he could witness the old man break the bolder in half.
It was sad that that was the best sleep the hobbit had had in weeks. To Bilbo, being dead to the world was the greatest he had felt in what seemed like months.
The waking up part wasn’t as wonderful.
The pain was the most prominent part. It never rested, not even for a second for him to clear his mind.
“He’s becoming a liability! He’s fainting left and right like a weak hearted mouse, and he can’t even defend himself!” The voice, which sounded suspiciously like Thorin, yelled. Supposedly at Gandalf Bilbo assumed.
“And who was it that stalled for time so that I could recue you all?” The old wizard spoke smugly.
“He was the one who got captured in the first place!” Thorin screamed.
“It was better me than any of the young ones.” Bilbo spoke aloud, hopefully not sounding as defeated as he thought.
“What?” Thorin growled under his breath. Bilbo turned his head to look at the disgruntled company.
“It was better I was captured than Fili, Kili or Ori, correct? Or perhaps their lives are worth even less than mine.”
Before he was given a response Bilbo once again went into the darkness with the swiftness of someone blowing out a candle.
When he later awoke for good, no one brought up the events of the night before but there were a few strange looks directed at him. Not that he saw. After missing another two meals thanks to the trolls, Bilbo was having a hard time deciding whether or not ending his suffering with his new blade was worth it.
He decided it was and reached for his blade but was stopped by the familiar howl of a warg. Bilbo looked at the direction it came from with hope. He might not have had the energy to kill three trolls whilst protecting the incapacitated dwarves, but a warg and/or orc was just what the doctor ordered as the dwarves were now armed.
But once again, the dwarves wanted him to continue feeling like his insides were devouring themselves and dragged him away to let the new wizard to distract the enemy.
He was not happy in the slightest and the blade was looking very attractive once again. But with the knowledge that they were heading to Rivendell a spark of hope appeared in his heart. The elves were sure to know of his nature and feed him accordingly. After all, no one wants to get eaten.
Bilbo stared at the leafy greens in sadness. There was no raw meat, which meant the elves didn’t know. Bilbo was alone with his hunger slowly killing him and the fact that no one would know he was dying until he truly did drop dead.
But it was when Bilbo was staring into the fire that he had an epiphany. Dragons were enormously large, there was a dragon at the end of this adventure, surely a dragon would sate his hunger, and it would be helping the dwarves too.
Bilbo felt he was truly onto something but was thrown out of the thought when a strong wave of pain rushed through his body and caused him to fall off the stool. No one stood to help him; they barely glanced in his direction. Though that could be blamed on the fact that Bofur was causing a scene in the dining room.
That didn’t stop Bilbo from thinking about eating them. But he knew he couldn’t. They were all on an important quest and weren’t considered evil so their flesh would taste like a big old pile of guilt and depression. It would also lead to his demise.
One of his ancestors had gone Hungry once and ate his Man friends and died a horrible death, which was how all hobbits knew not to eat someone who didn’t deserve it. It was just good manners after all.
The hunger continued to build and build as they travelled across the stormy mountains and he made his way out of the deep and cold caverns.
Truth is told, Bilbo could barely remember those days. His hunger had finally robbed his mind and left him stumbling around and following orders like a puppet.
But he had a vague recollection of something screaming “Precious!” and some crunching of bones, but the strangest thing was that Bilbo was sure he swallowed something round, almost like a ring. But there couldn’t be any rings down there, right?
Bilbo was very surprised when his mind snapped back to him with a big pulse of pain from his stomach and a scream coming from Dwalin. Bilbo really felt like whooping in joy but equally wanted to strangle that bloody prince.
He was far too injured to take on something like that white orc. Yet, Bilbo sure wasn’t.
Before he truly thought about it, his body rushed with a sudden strength that Bilbo easily recognised as Hunger. Bilbo was starved and no orc was going to get away, not on his watch.
Bilbo pushed himself off the tree trunk (how did he get there?) and ran to the battling foes almost impossibly fast. He was sure he looked quite frightening charging at the dark forces with a hungry smile, and Bilbo wondered if the soreness of his throat was from a battle cry or just because he needed some blood down it.
Judging by the looks of all those around him it was the former.
Bilbo quickly vaulted over the fallen body of Thorin without giving him much more than a glance and, faster than anyone could see, had his jaws around the leading orcs throat.
Without even so much as a pang of regret, Bilbo slammed his jaw closed and ripped half of the neck off the pale body. The scream that gurgled out of the mutilated throat made everyone in the clearing wince but Bilbo heard it more as a cry of a job well done. The blood that rushed into his body was so delicious that Bilbo moaned in ecstasy, the flesh perfectly fresh and flowed into his gullet with a perfect after taste that left Bilbo wanting more.
Unable to stop his urges in the trance, Bilbo used his hands to dig into the chest of his kill and ripped the muscle and bone from the precious organs that was held within. He yanked out a lung, spraying more blood onto his soaked body and ripped off a chunk with his teeth and revelled in the spongy texture.
Before he could take another bite, he was interrupted by a white warg jumping towards Bilbo’s unprotected back. But before the warg could get any closer Bilbo turned and raised his fist, he brought said fist down onto the top of the poor creatures head and crushed it’s skull on the floor. Blood and brain matter creating a splat pattern that included the hobbit.
Satisfied he wasn’t going to be interrupted, Bilbo turned to the rest of the enemy that had yet to run away like their companions. He gave a feral smile and sprinted towards them. He aimed for their throats, hearts and head to kill quickly so that he could eat as soon as possible.
He was knocked out of his state when Gandalf called out his name as Bilbo was munching on a heart of one of the wargs. It was soft and squishy which made it so much easier to just bite a chuck and swallow it without chewing. The faster his stomach was filled, the better.
“Bilbo, my boy?” The old voice spoke again. Bilbo looked up to see the shocked and scared faces of his company. Bilbo sighed in defeat. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. Scaring your friends wasn’t really the way to go with these things.
“Terribly sorry Gandalf,” Bilbo stared after he swallowed another kidney. “It’s not terribly respectable to eat in front of company, but you’ll have to forgive me. I have been so hungry for so long, I wonder if this will truly be enough?”
The others could only stare at Bilbo as he stuffed his face with their long-time foes and wince as the small hobbit crunched the bones like they were twigs. With morbid fascination, they watched him finish off all that was left of the perusing orcs and let out a satisfying burb and sigh.
Bilbo looked to the Dwarrows he had come to befriend with understanding and slowly stood up, hoping to prove that he had no intention of harming them. With a large stretch to release the tension in his back, Bilbo gave a meaningful look to the shocked wizard.
“I think this conversation would best be done after I’ve cleaned myself up.”
After visiting a freezing cold river to wash away all traces of his previous meal and tend to the wounds caused by the frantic orcs, (it was near impossible to not gain any injuries from creatures such as they and Bilbo was just happy they hadn’t hit anything truly important) he steeled himself for the confrontation he was sure to get from the Dwarrows.