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“Lost.”
Bilbo turned from the row of unfamiliar arches he’d been contemplating to glare at the raven that had landed next to his foot. “Yes, thank you, Acra. I’m well aware of that.”
“Way out?” Acra was one of Roäc’s grandchildren, recently fledged and not yet fluent in Westron.
“No, please do not show me the way out. I am trying very hard to learn how to navigate these halls, and I won’t get anywhere if everyone keeps helping me. As the king’s consort, I’d like to know my way around Erebor without a guide or a map!”
Acra fluttered her wings and retreated a few steps. Bilbo sighed. It wasn’t the young raven’s fault that it had taken him an hour to shake his royal guard. “I’m sorry, I know you meant well. Truly, though, I’m fine.”
“Lost,” repeated Acra, then, “King.”
“Oh, dear.” So Thorin must have sent Acra to look for him. The King was fully supportive of Bilbo’s explorations, but he still became anxious when Bilbo slipped away from his guard. “Very well, if Thorin is really concerned, I’ll let you show me to him.”
Acra launched into the air, leading Bilbo as quickly as he could trot down one passageway after another. He soon realized that she’d selected a route that was entirely unknown to him, and did his best to commit the turns to memory.
“Where are we now?” he panted, as he caught up with her at a closed door.
“Short cut,” Acra croaked, hanging upside-down from the handle to make the door swing open.
Bilbo stepped through into Thorin’s primary office. The King sat slumped over an enormous pile of papers, his crown set aside on the table so he could bury his hands in his hair.
Bilbo hurried to him. “Thorin, I’m here, I’m all right. Were you that worried about me?”
“Worried?” Thorin lifted his head, and his haggard expression softened into a smile. “No, my love. I know you can take care of yourself.”
Bilbo slipped the ragged quill out of Thorin’s fingers and replaced it with his own small hand. “Didn’t you send Acra to look for me?”
“No.” Thorin gave him an affectionate squeeze. “She was here all morning, then flew off. I assumed she had gone to play with her siblings.”
“Lost,” repeated Acra. “Lost king.”
Bilbo eyed her curiously, then turned back to Thorin. He smoothed down the hair that Thorin had churned up, and kissed the lines of worry in his forehead. “Have you been here all day? No walks or meals?”
Thorin sighed, reaching up to cup Bilbo’s cheek. “I have to resolve a trade dispute, and review the new housing plans, and—”
“Silly King.” Bilbo took Thorin’s arm and tugged him to his feet. “Acra saw that you were lost, and she went to find help. Come, let’s have a warm meal and a rest, and then we will find our way through your paperwork together.”
Thorin pressed his lips to the top of Bilbo’s head, then gave the raven a rueful smile. “Clever bird. I am lost without my hobbit, indeed.”
Acra watched the king and his consort walk off with their arms around each other. She preened. “Found.”