"So I should give it back?" Luke asked casually, tossing the ring from one hand to the other, deliberately slow, deliberately careless, as if he were juggling a coin instead of something far more dangerous.
Bilbo froze.
His eyes tracked the ring with desperate intensity, his whole body tensing every time it left Luke's fingers. It was like watching someone hold his heartbeat in their palm.
"P-please," Bilbo Baggins said, voice thin and strained. "Give it back."
Luke studied him for a moment longer than necessary.
So this was it.
The thing wasn't loud. It didn't scream power or corruption. It whispered. Quiet, patient, addictive. One touch, and the mind started justifying it. One excuse became another, and letting go stopped being an option. Like a drug that didn't need a needle—just time.
Luke closed his fingers around the ring, then looked back at Bilbo.
"…Yeah," he said lightly. "I get why you want it."
Bilbo leaned forward without realizing it, breath shallow.
Luke's arm drew back.
"Here," he said. "Catch."
He flicked his wrist and threw the ring through the air.
Bilbo lunged for it, hands snapping up on pure instinct, eyes wide—fear and relief colliding all at once as the small golden circle spun toward him.
Bilbo caught it.
Both hands snapped shut around the ring as if he were afraid it might vanish the moment he loosened his grip.
For a second, the world seemed to narrow around him.
Then he looked up—slowly—and met Luke's gaze.
Luke wasn't smiling anymore.
"You should know something," Luke said, voice calm but firm, cutting cleanly through the tension. "That thing isn't lucky. It isn't a blessing. And it definitely isn't harmless."
Bilbo swallowed. "It—it's just a ring," he said, though even to his own ears the words sounded weak.
Luke's gaze flicked past him, sharp. "On that, you're right."
A faint whistle cut through the air.
Then another.
Luke's expression shifted instantly. "Arrows," he said under his breath. "Elves."
Before Bilbo could ask anything, Luke moved, pulling him back toward the roots of a thick tree. "Hide," he murmured, firm but calm. "Now."
He glanced over his shoulder. "Girls—same. Stay quiet."
Natasha and Wanda exchanged a quick look, confusion clear on both their faces, but neither hesitated. They slipped into the cover of low brush and fallen trunks just as the forest ahead came alive.
Arrows rained down.
The remaining spiders were hit mid-scuttle, bodies jerking as shafts pinned them to bark and earth. More arrows followed—precise, relentless—until the clearing fell silent except for the thud of bodies hitting the ground.
Then the Elves appeared.
They moved like shadows between the trees, bows already drawn, blades at the ready, eyes cold and alert. Their attention shifted immediately from the spiders to the figures beyond the clearing.
The Dwarves.
Bilbo peered out just in time to see them surrounded, weapons knocked aside, protests cut short as Elven blades pressed close. There was no hesitation, no explanation—only practiced efficiency.
Bilbo's heart sank. "Thorin…" he whispered.
Luke watched it all from the shadows, unreadable. "Mirkwood," he said quietly. "They don't ask questions first."
Bilbo hesitated, fingers tightening around the ring in his pocket.
Luke noticed the shift immediately. "Careful," he said softly. "This is where bad decisions start."
His gaze followed the Elves and among them.
One of them stood out.
Tauriel.
She moved differently from the others, lighter somehow, eyes sharp but not cold. For a brief moment, Luke found himself genuinely impressed.
Huh… he thought. Elves really are unfairly beautiful.
The instant the thought crossed his mind, Tauriel stopped.
Her head snapped toward his position, eyes narrowing as they cut straight through layers of shadow and foliage. Her hand tightened slightly on her bow.
Luke reacted on instinct, easing back behind the tree.
A half-second later—
"What is it?" Legolas asked quietly.
Tauriel held her stare on the darkness a moment longer, searching. The forest was still. Too still.
"…Nothing," she said at last, lowering her bow, though her expression remained uneasy. "I thought I felt something."
Legolas studied the trees, sharp-eyed, then nodded. "The spiders may have scattered more than we thought."
They moved on, escorting the prisoners deeper into Mirkwood.
Behind the tree, Luke relaxed just enough to exhale.
"Sharp instincts," he murmured under his breath. "That one's trouble."
Bilbo glanced up at him nervously. "They almost saw you."
Luke gave a faint smile. "Almost doesn't count."
After the Elves disappeared into the forest, Wanda and Natasha both turned to stare at the small figure beside them.
Bilbo wasn't a child. That much was clear. He was fully grown—just… half the height of a normal human.
"I know what you're thinking," Luke said casually, glancing down at Bilbo. "He's a Hobbit. That's their normal size."
"Hobbit?" Wanda repeated, curiosity overtaking her caution.
"Yeah," Luke replied. "This is as tall as they get."
Bilbo adjusted his coat, clearly uncomfortable under the attention. "Um… if you don't mind me asking," he said politely, "who exactly are you? And… what are you doing here?"
His eyes flicked over their clothes, their posture—everything about them felt wrong for the forest.
Luke didn't hesitate. "These are my wives," he said smoothly, gesturing to Natasha and Wanda. "We're wandering around, searching for the meaning of life."
Natasha elbowed him hard in the ribs.
When did I agree to that? her look clearly said.
Luke leaned closer, unfazed. "Don't sweat the small details, dear. 'Wife' is just a word. A very limited one, honestly. There aren't many words that can properly describe the depth of your feelings for me."
Natasha stared at him, deadpan.
Wanda, on the other hand, bit back a smile.
Bilbo blinked, processing that exchange, then quietly decided this group was somehow even stranger than the dwarves he was traveling with.
"Well," Bilbo said after a moment, straightening. "I should be going. My friends need help."
"Oh, by all means," Luke said, waving him off. "Don't let us stop you."
Bilbo hurried off in the direction the Elves had taken the dwarves.
Luke followed.
Five minutes passed before Bilbo slowed, then stopped. He turned around, frowning.
"…Why are you following me?" Bilbo asked cautiously.
Luke shrugged, completely honest. "I'm heading to the Elves' place too."
Bilbo hesitated. "Why?"
Luke smiled. "To steal some of their wine."
Bilbo stared at him.
"What?"
*****
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