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Winter months were both something dreaded and loved. On one hand, you had all the death that the cold, merciless winds and weather that winter brought along with it, causing the death of the very world around them. Many suffered the cruel impact, all over Middle Earth.
On the other hand, however, winter could be a beautiful season of the year to those who had more than enough to make it through. At least, that was in the Shire for most of its inhabitants, where the green hills were coated in white overnight and smoke would float out the chimneys of hobbit holes all throughout winter as fires burned to keep the hobbits living there from freezing to death. Screams of happiness came from the children playing out in the snow, adults watching them from the entrances of their homes or just going about their business like usual or getting rid of snow that kept the front doors from being able to be opened.
Bilbo Baggins sat outside the big, green door of Bag End on the bench next to it, watching his nephew play with the other hobbit children, engaged in a chaotic snowball fight while smoking on his pipe.
To the other adults, it looked like some silly game the children had played to keep themselves entertained. Bilbo, however, had lived many battles in his past, battles he could not forget.
At least Frodo would stand a chance, he thought with a little relief as he watched his dear nephew dodge an oncoming snowball and chucking another at the little hobbit boy who had thrown it.
Bilbo puffed out one last smoke ring before getting to his feet and pushing the door open, stepping into the threshold of his smial. Bag End had not changed much after all those years; there was a bit more furniture here and there, the pantry was noticeably larger and there were a lot more trinkets placed around everywhere. Otherwise, Bag End looked as if it had stayed back in the past. Bilbo hung his coat, placing the pipe on a small cabinet by the door. He then walked to the kitchen, peering into the kettle he had left on the stove to see if there was any tea left inside and starting a small fire to heat it up. Minutes passed before the door burst open again, letting in a whoosh of wind. It slammed shut again, making Bilbo flinch a little. Moments later, Frodo trotted into the kitchen, still wearing his damp coat and scarf.
“You said we would go ice skating!” he said, climbing onto a stool by the dining table and taking a cookie from the plate that Bilbo had placed there not long ago.
“I did and I intend to do so,” Bilbo replied, pulling open a cupboard door and taking out a little teacup, helping himself to some of the tea and snuffing out the fire.
That reminded him of his past. He stared at the flames for a few moments before putting them out, staring at the embers for a few moments longer.
“Can Sam come along too?” Frodo asked him.
“Mm?”
“Sam? Sam Gamgee?”
“Oh, yes, of course he can. But you should ask his parents fi--”
“Will do!” Frodo cried out enthusiastically, grabbing another cookie and running outside again. Bilbo heard the door open and close, moving to the window to watch his nephew run with the speed of a horse in direction to the Gamgee’s hobbit hole.
oOo
“Is it dangerous?” Frodo asked, seeming more excited about the prospect of it being dangerous rather than worried or scared.
“Not if you don’t fall in and listen to everything I say,” Bilbo replied, “and I think that the ice will be hard and sturdy, so you should worry less about falling in and more about listening.”
“Where are we going?” Sam piped up from besides Frodo, looking up at the older hobbit.
“A nearby lake; we are close now.” Bilbo glanced behind him. “Merry? Pippin?”
“Here!” the two young hobbits cried out in unison, trotting to catch up to them.
“Please don’t wander off. The last thing I need now is one of you getting lost and complaints from your parents.”
“We won’t, uncle.” Frodo replied.
The afternoon was cold and crisp, a strong breeze sweeping through the trees and making the leaves rustle in a way that let Bilbo think they were whispering to one another.
“Here we are,” Bilbo said, pushing through a couple of bushes with a little difficulty and holding one of them aside to let the younger hobbits pass through easily.
“Oh my…” Sam gasped, his eyes widening. Bilbo smiled as the younger ones looked out to the large, frozen lake that stretched out before them, the evening sunlight that had managed to find a way past the clouds in the sky dancing on the ice.
“Well? What do you think?” Bilbo asked proudly.
“This is a wild lake?” Pippin asked.
“If by ‘wild’ you mean ‘no other hobbit barely ever comes by’, then yes.” Bilbo replied, placing his hands on his hips and looking out to the lake's expansive surface. “It is hidden well; that is why it was worth walking all the way here through the forest.”
There was a short silence in which the younger hobbit continued their staring.
“Can we ice skate now?” Frodo asked, barely able to keep his voice from trembling with excitement.
“Of course.”
oOo
It had all gone excellently. Bilbo had taught the younger hobbits how to walk over the ice and slide along it using their bare feet, smiling when they shouted with glee when they got the handle of it. The worst injury had been a bruise on Merry’s knee (who had fallen over while trying to get to the shore, but hadn’t really minded it), but other than that, they had all enjoyed themselves.
They returned some time later, earlier than expected. The sun was about an hour or so from sinking out of view which was when Bilbo had said he would bring the children back to their families. So they headed to Bag End, where Bilbo had promised to make them hot cocoa.
They reached the lane that took up to Bag End tired but happy, Merry, Pippin, Frodo and Sam excitedly talking about the previous events of that evening. Bilbo followed close behind, happy to listen to their ramblings and answer a question here and there. Frodo hung back a little when Bag End’s gate came into view.
“Thank you for today, Uncle,” he said, tugging at Bilbo’s coat.
“I am glad you enjoyed it,” Bilbo replied, ruffling the boy’s chestnut-colored curls. Frodo grinned up at him, gave him a little quick hug and then hurried back forward to join his friends.
Bilbo spotted foot-prints on the snow leading up to the front gate. He walked to the front of the group, opening the mail box and pulling out a couple of letters. The first was from his cousin, Lobelia-- who refused to talk to him face to face after he had refused to let go of his spoons--, and the second only had his address on the envelope. He pushed the gate open, opening Lobelia’s letter first and quickly reading it. Nothing much, just that a great-great-great uncle he had never met had passed some time ago. He pushed the door open, flipping the second envelope around and frowning. Who was it from?
He then looked up from the envelope and nearly got the living daylights scared out of him.
He jumped back, nearly landing on Merry’s feet (the little hobbit had been able to scramble back just in time), painfully banging his elbow on the door frame in the process.
“Uncle Bi--?!”
Bilbo held back tears and the string of curse words that was pushing its way to his mouth as pain shot up his arm, his thoughts racing by so fast that he was unable to properly register them. He snatched an umbrella-- the closest object to the door-- and brandished it like a sword at the baffled dwarf standing before him.
“Who--” Bilbo stammered, his heart beating so fast that it hurt, “Wha-- what are you doing in my-- how did you even--”
“We sent a letter warning you,” the dwarf quickly said, raising his hands up. He flicked his wrist down, pointing to the unopened envelope in Bilbo’s hands. The hobbit practically ripped it open, reading the words written in the parchment inside:
Dear Mr Bilbo Baggins;
I am quite pleased to announce that the Thorin Oakenshield Company will be visiting you at Bag End. I cannot estimate exactly when that shall be, but expect us this week.
Kind Regards,
Gandalf the Gray.
P.S: Apologies if we arrive here before this letter does; one never knows what fate may bring to his mail.
Bilbo stared at the letter for a few seconds, the younger hobbits clamored outside and asking what was going on in confused voices.
“Why don’t you come in?” the dwarf asked, carefully taking the umbrella from Bilbo and putting it back where it had been. Bilbo stepped inside, feeling numb, as if he were walking on clouds. The letter fell from his hands. He walked past the dwarf, as if his legs were moving on their own, to the dining room where the conversation came from.
They were all there.
Happy faces looked up to him, turning to shocked expressions as poor Bilbo Baggins fainted right there and then, just like he had all those years ago.
oOo
"...did the exact same, many years ago, you know?”
“It feels like nothing has cha-- oh, look, he is coming around!”
“Uncle Bilbo?” Bilbo was able to force his eyes open to see his nephew’s face-- it was very blurry and it was making him feel dizzier than he already was-- swim above him. It was, however, a lot clearer than the other four-- no, five faces he had in his field of vision.
“Is he alright?” he heard a voice-- Sam’s?-- ask worriedly.
“Uncle, how many fingers am I holding up?” Frodo asked, holding up four.
Bilbo squinted. “F… four?”
“Oh no.”
“Let him get his bearings back,” another voice said, taking on an amused tone. Bilbo wanted to protest saying that it wasn’t funny, but he decided to not talk and concentrate on getting his vision back to normal.
Bilbo had to blink several times. Soon he was able to make out Frodo Same, Pippin, Thorin and Bofur.
Thorin and Bofur.
He wanted to laugh.
Frodo-- bless his soul-- helped him to sit up on the couch he had awakened on, allowing him to get a better look around the room. Merry was leaning on the armrest on the other side of the couch, and the rest of the Company was gathered around the room: Dori, Ori, Nori, Bombur (who was eating something), Dwalin, Balin, Gloin, Oin, Fili, Kili, Bifur and, last but not least, Gandalf, who stood at the far end of the room, eyes twinkling as they met Bilbo’s. Thori and Bofur were closest to him, along with the other three, confused and younger hobbits who didn’t know whether to feel worried about the fact that a group of bearded… men, little men, had somehow gotten into Bag End.
“Uncle…?” Frodo asked, nudging his foot with his own.
“It is fine, Frodo.” Bilbo said with a smile as he looked around the room at all those faces he hadn’t seen in years. “They are old friends of mine.”
oOo
“The mail must be faulty, then.” Gandalf said after Bilbo complained about having just received the letter. “I sent it through a while ago, from Dale before we began the journey here."
“Uh huh.” Bilbo said, only half convinced. Knowing Gandalf, the wizard might have just as well slipped it into the mailbox before they got there, but he was going to keep quiet about that, not wanting to spoil the mood.
It all felt like a dream to him. If he really was sleeping, then he didn’t want to wake.
“He even got a bigger pantry!” one of the dwarves called. This was followed by cheers from the rest.
“I should get something out to eat--” Bilbo said, making to get to the pantry. Thorin stopped him by putting a hand on the hobbit’s much smaller shoulder.
"There is no need. Bombur and Bifur were already doing so before you arrived, and we have brought along our own share of food so your pantry would not end up in the same state we left it in last time." he told the hobbit.
"I doubt this one will escape that fate," Bilbo said, watching as the dwarves went to and from the pantry, bringing in platters of food and the necessary utensils to set the table.
Within little less than five minutes, the table had been set and Bag End's current inhabitants were either helping with last-minute preparations or taking a seat at the two tables that had been put one next to the other so there was enough room for all. The younger hobbits were either very confused (in this case it was poor Sam) or very fascinated by what they were seeing.
"You have a lot of friends, Uncle." Frodo whispered, leaning towards his uncle.
"Yes, don't I?"
"What are they? Really big hobbits?" Pippin questioned. The question did not escape Fili's ears.
"No, my young friend, we are dwarves!" he said.
"Dwarves?" Merry echoed.
"Yes." Balin replied, smiling at him.
"Where did you come from?" Merry asked.
"The great mountain of Erebor, to pay our old friend Bilbo a visit." Dwalin said. He turned his head to Bilbo, "You should take them there some day!"
"I think that they are far too young to make the journe--"
"Tell us more!" Frodo practically shrilled, leaning forward and perching on the side of the table. A roar of laughter filled the room, the dwarves slamming the table with their fists or reeling back into their seats, laughing so much that tears beaded up at their eyes, and Gandalf smiled with a quiet chuckle, eyes twinkling at the younger hobbit, who was grinning from ear to ear. Bilbo couldn't keep the laughter from bubbling out either.
"Well, my young friend," Bofur said after it had quieted down, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, "we came from Erebor, the mountain. It lies far, far away from here, and is the kingdom to many dwarves, Thorin here being the King Under the Mountain."
"Wait," Pippin interrupted, turning his gaze to Thori as his eyes widened, "that dwarf is ki--"
"Do not interrupt," Gandalf called from the other end of the table, smiling a little.
"Sorry."
"That is fine." Bofur said, amused. "As I was saying. Erebor is now a successful kingdom, but not long ago it used to be the sleeping cave of Smaug--"
"-- the Snotface." Kili interjected. They all laughed at that.
"Smaug?" Sam echoed.
"Smaug the Snotface, yes." Bofur nodded, several dwarves snickering at this. "A dragon, and one of the cruellest."
"A dragon?!" all four younger hobbits cried out. This pleased the dwarves, happy with their little audience.
"I thought they were myths!" Merry said, turning to Bilbo with a shocked expression.
"Over here, they are. But they are as real as you are outside the Shire." Bilbo said sadly. If only he were not right...
"Yes, I have to agree with Bilbo." Nori said, taking over the storytelling, "He was greedy and cruel. You really would not want to cross paths with him."
"And where is he now?" Frodo asked.
"At the bottom of a lake, dead, gone and rotting." the dwarf answered. "The beast was slayed while it attacked King Bard's people, in Dale. The city has been reconstructed, but it was a harsh and terrifying day for all. We saw the smoke rising from the town as the foul beast flew over it, burning everything to the ground. Like my mother used to say; weapon wounds cannot be fixed with a simple bandage."
The younger hobbits whisked their heads around to the much older hobbit, asking for clarification. He didn’t smile as he answered: “They do not lie. There really was a dragon and it did burn Dale down. We were all there when it happened; not in the city itself, though.”
“Really ?” Pippin gasped, his shock and wonder sparking another round of chuckles.
“Yes; Master Baggins himself saw the dragon--” Dori said.
The effect was instant as the four younger hobbits leaned in close to Bilbo, their big eyes alight with curiosity. Bilbo himself had trouble to keep from laughing (he was unable to keep the smile away, though) and was leaning back in his chair, fingers lightly drumming the table’s surface.
“You saw a dragon?! And you never told me?!” Frodo cried out.
“He also spoke to it--”
"What?! "
oOo
Dinner at Bag End that night was not as quiet as usual. In fact, it wasn’t even close to that. For the first time in many years, the smial found itself filled with laughter and song, the buzz of conversation and the cheering and a rhythmically slamming of fists on the table as Bombur chugged an entire bottle of some very strong beer the dwarves had brought along with them on their journey.
Bilbo was different too. Frodo was happy-- very happy-- to see his uncle laugh more, join in the singing and cheer along with everyone else when Bombur slammed the bottle on the table dramatically to the wild clapping and whooping of everyone. He even joined in the song the dwarves sang as they cleared up the plates, putting up quite a show (the air was filled with flying plates as they were thrown from one dwarf to the other), the younger hobbits ecstatic as they clapped along, charmed by this new song.
Frodo himself went out to ask his friends’ families if they could stay a bit longer, getting approval from all and happiness from both the hobbits and the dwarves, all of whom had grown to be fond of the boys.
Bilbo had missed days like this. The silence and calm that had reigned the hobbit hole for so long had been enjoyable for most of the time, but, really, Bilbo had missed the noise and the clutter that his friends brought along with them.