[ Bilbo will likely be none too pleased when he discovers the matching scar on his back. Skewered is, perhaps, an accurate term to describe it. They are far from his only scars, though they may be the newest. A lifetime of battle and hard, back-breaking work has ways of leaving its' mark even on the hardiest of folk.

He may grimace from time to time, but that's more or less the extent of admitting that he could still be in pain. Now that the rush of battle has worn off, and the distraction of being thrust into an unfamiliar world has settled in, the pain from the stab wound through his right foot is starting to make itself known.

That makes him grit his teeth and clench a fist when touched, but his composition yet holds. He is not a babe, suffering from his first battle wounds, after all. Part of him is actually glad for the pain. Suffering such pain is a burden for the living and the victorious to bear.

It also takes his mind off of other things, at least temporarily. ]

What gain is there in lamenting flesh wounds? [ He inhales sharply, but holds it until he can exhale without a groan. ] They will heal, Master Baggins. It is a small price to pay for the opportunity to run my sword through the filth that killed so many of my kin.

[ There's rage and sorrrow cutting through the pain. Fili's death is still a very near loss. Fili and Kili were both much more like sons to him than nephews. ]