Bagginshield Fanfics

Everything Went Horribly Right

Credit to Fantasyinallforms

Pt 4. AMUDP

   "Mr. Baggins, are you sure about this?" Mrs. Harper eyed the barrel in front of her skeptically.

"Yes, I'll fit into it, and I put an old bedsheet at the bottom to cushion it." Bilbo stood with his hands on his hips, staring at his handiwork. He bought this barrel for the express purpose of sealing himself inside it. He had even put a bar on the inside of the lid so he could open it from within.

"I'm not worried you won't fit. I'm concerned that this is insane." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at him. "You really want to see the inside of Erebor this bad?" Bilbo nodded without hesitation. "Alright, well, gather your stuff and get in. My friend should be by soon." No sooner had Bilbo situated himself in the barrel than Mrs. Harper gave a single warning knock and addressed the other merchant. "Samson, there you are! I have a favor to ask?"

"Long time since you asked me for any favors, Josie. What can I do for you?"

"Last week, I sent a shipment up the mountain. I was cleaning out my larder and realized I had forgotten a barrel. I won't be marked as a swindler, and I know you've got a shipment going up tonight. Mind taking it with you?

"I didn't know you started trading with the dwarves. Is it yer famous pickles? Because if it is, it might get lost along the way." The man laughed heartily at his own joke.

"Not pickles, just apples. Do you have the room?"

"Aye, I have the room. How about I take it, and it'll only cost ya a peck on the cheek, ey?" The man's voice was still full of mirth. He sounded like one of the gaffers back home. It made him a little homesick.

"How about instead I just don't water down your ale when you come round for a drink?" Mrs. Harper quipped back. Her voice was just as playful as Samson's was.

"Oh, you cheeky lass, you wound me. You'll get sweet on me yet one of these days."

"Don't hold your breath too long on that bet." He heard the sound of laughter again, followed by idle conversation that seemed to be a quick catching-up session.

"Yes, I'll take it. Don't worry about lifting it. I'll have the boys throw it in." Samson shouted two names, and he felt a lurch in his stomach as his barrel was roughly lifted off the ground.

"Don't go tossing it around, or all my apples will show up bruised." Mrs. Harper chastised nervously. "Get it there safe, and your first non-watered-down round is on me," Samson's response must have been nonverbal because the next thing he knew, the cart lurched forward. He did a quick check of his pockets to make sure everything was in order. All his things were accounted for, including his lucky handkerchief and Gandalf's acorn. He was going to Erebor!

He had slightly underestimated how long the trip up the mountain would be. It was only about six miles by distance, but when you're bouncing in the back of a cart, and your only source of fresh air is a cork-sized hole, that might as well be forever. He was on the verge of blowing his own cover when the cart stopped. He put his ear to the hole, trying to gauge why they had stopped. He heard iron and stone grinding against each other to make a sound that could only be a great gate opening.

"Alright, move everything inside the gates!" He heard a gruff dwarven voice shout to someone further off. He curled up and stayed uncomfortably still as he felt his barrel get lifted. Whoever was carrying him was surprisingly gentle, and he was barely tossed. He was suddenly very concerned about a variable he didn't account for, someone sticking something on top of him. They didn't typically stack barrels of "apples," did they? All he could do was wait and listen. It wasn't as boring a wait as he feared. Once the carts of men had pulled away, the workers started talking among themselves. No matter how far from home he got, some things always remained the same. Children would always find any mischief to be found, food always tasted better with company and left long enough, chatter always became gossip.