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Chapter Text

It was a morning like any other in the Shire. The market was bustling and hustling. The scent of fresh baked goods and the sounds of cheery conversation drifted up from every home and entryway. 

Within a particularly green hill with a particularly robust garden, Bilbo Baggins leaned out his bedroom window. A flock of songbirds were nestled in the shrub just beyond. They looked at him with intelligent eyes and Bilbo smiled at them.

“Well, go on, ladies and gents. What songs do you have for me today?” Bilbo closed his eyes as the birds began their tune. A beautiful harmony that sang of spring and warm winds that carry you home to your nest. The hobbit began puttering about his room, getting ready for the day. It wasn’t that the birds sang words in the common tongue but Bilbo had always been able to hear their meaning. Always been able to understand with his whole heart the intricacies and beauty of the nature around him. 

His mother often said that he was touched by Yavanna. That the green goddess herself had smiled on Bilbo’s birth. Bilbo didn’t know about all that but he knew he was an odd hobbit. As many of his childhood friends and neighbors had been quick to point out to him. 

He would spend hours communing with rabbits, squirrels, field mice, and what was brushed off as the behaviors of an imaginative faunt turned to the odd idiosyncrasies of strange Master Baggins of Bag End. Bilbo was fine with that though. He was happy with his friends, the woodland animals and the songbirds. Happy with the knowledge his garden was the most luscious and bountiful of the Shire. And not just due to Hamfast Gamgees sturdy, talented hands but due to his nightly sessions feeling the vibrations and whispers of the Earth as he smoked his evening pipe on the garden bench. He urged his plants to grow to their most beautiful and plentiful, making note of what they needed to mention to Hamfast in the morning. 

Again the plants didn’t speak in such words as ‘water’ or ‘richer soil’, but Bilbo knew what they were communicating nonetheless. 

Bilbo could sometimes, though it was an exhausting experience and made him feel as if he needed to sleep a fortnight, grow things within a shortened amount of time. His mother had been surprised to no end one day in the dead of winter when Bilbo had come inside, snow-dusted and rosy-cheeked, a fresh bundle of daisies gripped in his hand as if it were the middle of spring. All because Belladonna had mentioned earlier that day how desperately she missed seeing the flowers and hoped spring would come soon. The faunt had collapsed and slept for three days after the fact. It wasn’t a trick he much attempted to perfect as being exhausted for days on end was very inconvenient when he could simply pop into the garden or the local apothecary for whatever plants he needed. Though, he could manage some rare tea leaves when the mood struck him without too much effort or strain. 

It was one of those such moods that Bilbo found himself in that morning. He’d waved a goodbye to his frielding songbird chorus then pattered his way into his kitchen. He kept a small flower pot filled with rich soil in a cupboard for just this occasion. He felt like tasting the sweet, bitter tea his mother had brought back from a chance run in with a trader from the far north. He couldn’t remember the name but he remembered the look and the taste and he hoped that would be enough. 

He held his hands over the pot and closed his eyes. A feeling came over him like the feel of fresh air and dew and that feeling one gets when they know rain is coming. He breathed in, imagining he could feel the seed forming and taking shape in the soil, then breathed out, imagining the passing of days and nights and the drops of rain that would have naturally fed the plant. A moment passed and he opened his eyes. Tickling his fingertips were the familiar shapes of the leaves he remembered his mother dropping into a kettle so long ago. He picked one and smelt it, the aroma robust and dark. 

Bilbo smiled and wiped a small amount of perspiration off his brow from the effort. He picked off a few more leaves from the plant and proceeded to brew a pot. He gathered some scones, butter, and jam while it heated.

In a few minutes, he sat down at his table with a pleasant breakfast spread with a perfectly brewed cup of tea. Just as he’d made to bring the cup to his lips, a knock sounded from his front door. Bilbo frowned. He’d not been expecting anyone this morning.

He shrugged and headed to the door, assuming Hamfest or one of the neighbors were coming by for a morning chat and glad he had plenty of scones to go around.

He was therefore very surprised when he opened his door to find a tall figure clad in gray standing on the threshold. A wrinkled face with bushy brows and piercing blue eyes leaned into view, a staff gripped in his weather hand. 

“Goodmorning,” Bilbo stuttered, a bit thrown as to what business this stranger would have to do with him.

“What do you mean?” the man said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?” 

Bilbo blinked, “Uhhh, all of them, I suppose.” The man snorted and continued to stare at Bilbo as if waiting for something. “I’m terribly sorry, but is there something I can help you with?” 

The man seemed to roll his eyes without doing so before answering, “I should hope so, Master Baggins. To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took’s son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!” The hobbit felt instinctively chastised as if his mother was behind him about to pull his ear for being inhospitable. Before he could let out another apology the man continued, “I am Gandalf and Gandlf means me. And you, gentle-hobbit, should let me in so I may rest my road worn bones.” 

The man pushed into the door, his form taking up the whole of it as Bilbo stepped back. Bilbo’s host manners kicked in while his brain still lagged behind in confusion. He took Gandalf’s scarf and hat, something niggling at his brain about where he’d heard the name Gandalf before. It came to him in a rush as he hung the man’s things. 

“Ah! Gandalf! The wizard with the lovely fireworks and a great traveling companion to my mother if I’m not mistaken.” He turned with a smile, proud to have recognized the man only to find he’d moved to his dining table. Bilbo hurried to fill a cup for him and dish out some of the scones.

“Indeed, the very same. Though it has been a long time since I’ve been in the Shire.” Gandalf thanked Bilbo and took a sip of the tea. His eyes widened. “And even longer since I’ve tasted the cleansing tea of Lake Evendim. How on Middle-Earth did you come across such a  delicacy?” Bilbo blushed and stuttered before taking a sip of his own cup. 

“My mother had some stashed away. I’m not sure where she got it.” Bilbo lied. Gandalf nodded.

“That sounds like Belladonna. She had the ability to find the oddest things on her walking holidays and adventures, for better or for worse.” Gandalf frowned and set his cup down. “Speaking of adventures, I have a proposition for you, Master Baggins.”

“Bilbo, please. An old family friend shouldn’t stand on such formalities.” Bilbo looked at his hands then back to Gandalf. “Though, I’ve no idea what you’d want with me when it comes to adventures.”

Gandalf smiled and pulled out his pipe. He packed it in silence for a moment before stating, “No, I’d imagine the great Master of Bag End would have no need for wondering, safe here in your hill.” The hobbit was unsure if he should be offended or not by the statement.

“No, I’d think not. I’m quite comfortable here in my home. My home built by my father for my mother and I to live and grow old in,  I might add.”

“And is that all you seek from life? Comfortability and a place to grow old in?”

Bilbo was puzzled by the question and stood to grab his own pipe from the window sill. “I should think so. What else could an ordinary hobbit want from life?” When he turned back to the table, Gandalf’s bright eyes were on him, a soft twinkle in them.

“But you are no ordinary hobbit, are you, Bilbo Baggins?” 

The hobbit felt his heart pick up a furious pace, his eyes wide as if he were a rabbit caught in the stare of a hawk. “I-I beg your pardon, I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

Gandalf snorted and lit his pipe, trails of smoke rising from his nostrils. “I think you know quite well what I mean, dear Bilbo.”

Chapter Text

Bilbo felt frozen. It wasn’t that he’d necessarily hid his abilities. His mother had always been adamant that he should never hide what made him special. But to have this old family friend appear out of nowhere and to know about his cherished secret. Had his mother told him on one of their journeys? 

Gandalf held his stare for a moment before turning his attention back to his pipe. “You have the glow of Yavanna around you. And the feel of her in every facet of your home. Those of us more sensitive to the Valar’s presence in this world could see it from two hills over.” Bilbo rolled his shoulders before lighting his own pipe with a nervous hand. 

“Indeed. I didn’t know that was possible.” Bilbo sat back down and frowned at Gandalf. “Is it my ability that has brought you here?” The wizard nodded before reaching into his sleeve, withdrawing a bundle of papers. 

“As much as I wish it was a friendly visit alone, I’m afraid I do have business with you. This,” he handed the papers over. “Is all I could retrieve from the various libraries of the Old Houses. It contains what I could find about Yavanna’s Chosen Children.” Bilbo’s brows bunched as he untied the cord holding the papers together. 

“Yavanna’s Chosen Children?”

“Indeed. Every age or so, when a great calamity is on the horizon for Middle Earth, Yavanna, the Green Lady, will bestow her blessing to a mortal. And while Hobbits are her favored children,” Gandalf smiled at this. “It is not often that she gives her blessing to one.” His tone became more somber. “While I am aware of a quest and a change on the wind, I do not understand what great rumblings in the tides of time to come has given her the urge to grow another Chosen Child. Yet here you are, my dear Bilbo.” 

The hobbit was absently listening as his eyes drank in the information on the pages before him. Descriptions of Men and Elves who could do what he was able to do and so much more. Of great heroes who were able to grow forests with a thought and bend great swathes of beasts to their whims. The Chosen Children. He couldn’t reconcile his tea growing abilities and evening communes with his garden to the great deeds described in these pages. He looked up to meet Gandalf’s steady gaze. 

“Gandalf, surely you can’t believe I am one of these Chosen Children. I can’t do any of the things described here! I mean one of these she-elves was able to heal men with mortal wounds with a press of her hand and a dash of ointment! I’m no great hero. I am a simple hobbit with a simple life in a simple hole!” Bilbo felt heat rise to his cheeks, taking a bracing sip of his now-cold tea. The wizard puffed again on his pipe, contemplating what to say in return.

He leaned forward, catching Bilbo’s eyes in a piercing, imploring stare. “You are far more than you believe, Master Baggins. Yavanna’s Chosen are some of the greatest beings to walk this world. Her abilities are gifted to you to draw on, to create great change in the world. Even a small hobbit with Yavanna’s blessing may turn the tides of wars and-”

“Wars?! Certainly not! I’ve never touched a sword!” Bilbo felt overwhelmed. This was too much. He was simply a hobbit with an extra well tuned soil sense. He was no great hero or Valar blessed warrior. Every hobbit had some lick of soil sense and his just happened to be more finely attuned. 

Gandalf blinked at his outburst and frowned. “I assure you, dear Bilbo. There is far more to you than meets the eye. The Green Lady’s blessing flows through your veins. You have more power than you know. And on this quest you will find out more about yourself and your abilities than you ever imagined possible.”

“Quest! I’m going on no such thing.” He rose to his feet and stomped assuredly over to snatch Gandalf’s items off the coat rack. Gandalf rose to follow him. “I believe it is time for you to leave. Thank you so much for your visit and I believe you should go find one of those Chosen Children but you certainly haven’t found one here!” Gandalf sputtered at Bilbo’s swift dismissal but Bilbo would hear none of it. He ushered the wizard to the door, being quite rude but not quite caring. “Good day!” He slammed his door behind the wizard with not a care if it hit him on the way out and collapsed against the wood. 

Bilbo couldn’t believe it. This talk of Valar and abilities and quests and wars. It was far too much for his heart to take. He huffed and straightened his waistcoat.

“Not this Hobbit.” Bilbo made to begin cleaning his dining room. He grabbed the papers Gandalf had given him and made to toss them into the fire but paused. There was no reason to destroy knowledge just because he wasn’t a fan of the knowledge. He placed the papers on the end table next to his lounging chair. 

With a final glance at them, Bilbo went about his day. He made lunch. He spoke to Hamfest and tended the garden in the waning afternoon sun. He took an evening stroll down to the Green Dragon for a pint and caught up on the news of the week. A few hobbits had spotted Gandalf entering Bag End and Bilbo fended off their intrigued questions and gossiping. Another few hobbits had spotted some dwarves trekking the fields just east of Hobbiton. Miss Daisy’s coming of age party was later this week and the young lads were all a flutter with the chance at a dance with her. The old ninnies in the knitting guild were on some kind of crusade to secure the Party Tree for a knitting festival. Though that sounded more dreary than a rainy day in midsummer. Bilbo returned to his hobbit hole in better spirits, the thrill of some good port in his belly and the hope of a warm fire and a good meal waiting at home. 

Bilbo arrived at his door and noticed a strange marking on it. He fingered the wooden scratches. He’d just had this door painted. He rolled his eyes, brushing it off as the prank of a bored hobbitling with their father’s whittling knife. 

He puttered about his home, making a nice dinner for himself. A steamed and seasoned fish with a fresh loaf of bread and some fine cheese. He looked at the seat where Gandalf had been earlier that day and wondered if that would be the last he’d see of Gandalf in his lifetime. He felt a sense of mourning as the wizard had been a good friend of his mother’s and it might have been nice to ask for some tales of their adventures together. 

His mother had a whole room filled with memorabilia of her journey’s. Strange drawings, maps, trinkets, daggers and bows gifted by travelers to the seemingly helpless hobbit lass, books and papers filled with knowledge of far off lands. He wondered if Gandalf could have told him some of the stories his mother had told him he was too young to hear before she passed. Sometimes he wished he had her Tookish spirit but he took heartily after his father’s respectable Baggins genes. Even his refined soil sense was a Baggins trait, for Tooks had their heads far too high in the clouds to ever be concerned of the whisperings of the ground. 

He shook his head of the melancholy. He’d given up the ideas of adventuring like his dear mother long ago. The Fell Winter had taken the call of far lands from his breast when it had taken his parents and his innocence to the sorrows of the world. The world outside the Shire was very unkind to a Hobbit. 

Bilbo began to dig into his meal before a loud pounding on his door interrupted him. He blinked at the entrance way. That wasn’t how any respectable hobbit knocked on their neighbor’s door so late in the evening. He wondered if Gandalf had returned. If he had, Bilbo only hoped that the wizard had put all thoughts of adventures and Valar out of his mind and only sought a pleasant visit. 

Bilbo opened the door with a ‘Good Evening’ only to be surprised by a large burly dwarf filling his doorway. The hobbit blinked at him. 

The dwarf bowed at the waist, “Dawlin, at your service.” Bilbo blinked again.

“Uh, Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” Dawlin made to enter into his home and Bilbo once again fell back on his host instincts. He took the dwarf’s cloak and hung it. “Terribly sorry, but what can I do for you, Master Dwalin?”

The dwarf looked at him with a quirked eyebrow. “I’d think some food and ale was promised to me. Dining room’s this way?” The dwarf went deeper into his home. 

“Promised by whom?” Bilbo tottered after him, fidgeting with the edge of his waist coat. 

The dwarf sat at his place at the table and began to dig into his dinner. He muttered between bites, “The wizard. He assured us this would be a fine meeting place for our company with food and beds for the night.” Bilbo’s jaw dropped even as he unconsciously retrieved a pint of ale for the dwarf. Gandalf had invited this dwarf? Some old friend! No warning or how do you dos! 

Bilbo frowned and began to pull things from his cupboards. If he was going to have a company’s worth of guests he’d have to pull out the leaf of his table and extra chairs. His Baggins sensibilities wouldn’t let him be rude to guests. Even if they were uninvited. 

He peeked his head into the dining room. “Master Dwalin, pray tell, how many are we to be expecting tonight?” At the muttered reply of ‘fourteen’, Bilbo’s ire for the wizard rose. Fourteen?! Fourteen guests he had to prepare for with no warning. And he was to offer beds! None of the guest rooms had been dusted in years. Let alone the beds turned down or fresh water basins filled or any of the necessities of a proper host. 

Just as Bilbo began to get caught in his whirlwind of long ingrained into him guest preparations, there was another knock at the door. He quickly laid out another place setting at the table and set out his emergency stash of mince pies. 

Rushing to the door, he opened it to find another dwarf. This one seemed older with a head and beard full of white hair. He was greeted with another bow and a smile, “Balin, at your service!” Instinctually, Bilbo said a good evening to the dwarf.

“Yes,” The dwarf looked around at the night sky. “Yes, it is. Though, I think it might rain later.” Bilbo checked his soil sense out of habit, the hum in his bones and the sudden feel of dew on his skin agreeing with the statement. 

“Indeed, tomorrow more like. Uh,” Bilbo took the dwarf’s cloak. “Right this way. There’s ale and pies in the dining room.” The dwarf bid him thank you and went off. There was a loud sound of two people greeting each other after a long time apart and the strange thunk of two solid objects smacking into one another. Bilbo hoped his furniture and fine china would survive the rough handling of dwarves. Bilbo returned to his frantic cleaning and tidying. He drew plenty of water for washing and battled with the cobwebs and dust of his most unused linen closets to gather enough bedding and towel clothes for fourteen guests. He was perspiring as he gathered more food from his pantry and set out the secondary dining table meant for entertaining with more plate settings when another knock came.

At the door, there were two much younger dwarves who bowed in unison to him, “Fili and Kili, at your service!” The dark haired one smiled a bright grin and added, “You must be Master Boggins!” Bilbo frowned and corrected him but they didn't seem to listen as they stripped their cloaks off in a haphazard childish manner, hurrying to join the two older dwarves in the dining room. Another knock came shortly after and a hoard of dwarves flocked into his home, being trailed by an amused Gandalf.

Bilbo gave the wizard an exasperated look as he gathered up the cloaks and packs and weapons that had been discarded in his foyer. Mud trailed his floor and he hoped against hope that he’d be able to get all the stains out of the antique rugs and stained lumber. He turned beseeching eyes on Gandalf.

“Gandalf! What on Middle Earth is the meaning of all this?” He stomped one large hairy foot and set his hands on his hips, ready to get into a well todo rant against the impropriety of it all. Gandalf held up a hand and gestured to Bilbo’s lounging chairs in front of the living room fireplace. Bilbo felt the wind go out of his sails as he flopped into his chair. He scrubbed his face with his hands and gave Gandalf a look as if to say ‘go on then’. 

The wizard chuckled and withdrew his pipe. The boisterous sound of laughter and merriment of happy guests filled the hall from the dining room and kitchen area. Though Bilbo took little comfort in the fact he was playing a good host when he wasn’t intending to be hosting at all. 

“My dear Bilbo, I do apologize for springing this on you but you gave me very little time as you were booting me out the door this morning to tell you of your upcoming guests.” 

Bilbo shot him a glare, “It’s absolutely improper to invite guests to a gentlehobbit’s house without telling him, let alone a rag tag group of dwarves who are absolute strangers to said gentlehobbit.” Gandalf nodded in agreement.

“Indeed, but I had intended to warn you of their arrival. However, our conversation did not go as I had planned.”

“Oh really? Do you often plan out conversations where you spring unto innocent hobbits their divine connection to the Valar and your intent to drag them along on an adventure to save the world?” Bilbo’s tone was rye and exhausted. He pulled out his own pipe and began puffing at it in frustration. 

Gandalf laughed again, his good spirits chafing Bilbo’s ire. “You’d be surprised, Master Baggins. You’d be surprised. It wasn’t my intent for you to become so upset by what I had come to say. Have you read those papers? They tell what I might find hard to explain to an already irritable hobbit.” Bilbo glared again but took up the papers. Gandalf rose and gave him the room to brood as the wizard joined the merriment of the dwarves. Songs and shouting began in earnest as Bilbo attempted to tune them out and read. He reread some of the tales he’d read earlier, of great heroes in the races of Elves and Men throughout the vast ages who had helped turn the tides of war and saved Middle Earth from falling into ruin. 

He was interrupted by a very kind, somewhat stuffy Dwarf who said his name was Dori who brought him a cup of tea. Bilbo couldn’t help but thank the dwarf for his kindness and wave him away with assurances that he was fine and simply relaxing. 

As he read on, he found an account of one of the Chosen Children, a hobbit lass some thousand years ago, Eliyana. Her account of her childhood and tweens was similar to his own, strange happenings and being shunned for her oddities. He felt his heart go out to her even as he became weary of how similar they were, even as she began to describe how her soil sense was always far more advanced than any hobbit she’d known. The tale of the lass ended with her falling into a forever sleep after healing an entire kingdom's failed crops, saving thousands of lives from starvation during an unending winter. Her sleeping body had been taken to the West, to the Undying Lands and there was no other information of her beyond that.

Bilbo leaned his head back against his chair and stared at the ceiling. Could he really be one of these Chosen Children? Blessed by the Green Lady herself to perform great deeds in her name for the good of Middle Earth? He was just Bilbo. Just the Master of Bag End, meant to live out his days settling tenant disputes and attending parties and tending his garden. Could he truly be expected or even capable of doing something like the great deeds of Eliyana’s sacrifice and the other Chosen Children? 

He set his head in his hands. 

And what of this quest with these Dwarves? Did Gandalf really expect him to take off into the sunset with his merry band of dwarves into places unknown on some daring adventure? And what of this adventure? What of this adventure so dangerous and so world changing that Gandalf would seek out one of these Chosen Children to be a part of this quest? And again, how could Bilbo, simple Bilbo, be one of these? 

His mother? Maybe. She was brave and intelligent and daring. She was hardly a hobbit for how fond of the outside world she was. Shouldn’t she have been one of these Chosen Children rather than her bookwormish, round bellied son? If Yavanna had truly blessed him, it must have been a mistake. For in his hands, this duty could only be a curse. He was no warrior or healer or strategist. Nothing about him was fit for the life of a hero or an adventurer. 

The hurricane of self depreciation in his head was interrupted by a pounding on his front door. The sounds of joy from his dining room ceased.

Gandalf’s voice rose out of the silence, “He is here.”

Chapter Text

‘He’ turned out to be Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. Imagine! A king at Bag End. His father would be rolling in his grave. The dwarf was gruff and road worn and he had barely given Bilbo a suspect glance over before his dwarves had pulled him into the dining room for food and drink and tales of his travels to their kin. Bilbo felt entirely out of his element as he followed the procession into the dining room. 

The other dwarves aside from Thorin were ruckus and proceeded to make a whole song out of Bilbo’s worries for his dishes. It would have actually been quite amusing if Bilbo hadn’t already been at his wits end for stressful happenings today. The dwarves were talented musicians and singers. Though he could have done without them showing off their throwing and catching skills with his Great Aunt’s best china. 

Thorin and Gandalf had sat in the back of the dining room through the whole ordeal. Their voices were drowned out by the song but when Bilbo glanced over he could see the conversation was an intense one filled with what looked like tension. 

As the night began to wind down and the dwarves lost some of their cheer at the look on their king’s and wizard’s faces, Bilbo set out lanterns to fill the packed dining room with warm light. He kept himself busy filling tankards and making sure no one had been left hungry. Though by the state of his now empty pantry, he couldn’t see how any of the dwarves could still be hungry. 

He was caught up in this hosting fog until Gandalf called to him, asking him to come sit at his side. Bilbo wearily complied, his hands wrapped around a tankard of warmed mead and hoping this conversation wouldn’t have him wanting for another. But there seemed little chance of that as Thorin laid a map onto the table along with some other papers.

“Our wizard has provided us with a map and a key. Given to him by my grandfather, Thror, who even in his madness, knew we would one day be here at this table. Dwarves gathered to retake what is rightfully ours.” A smattering of murmured condolences went up, ‘Mahal bless his rest’ before Thorin continued. “Gandalf believes there is a hidden entrance, built in the way of forbearers to be kept secret from all but dwarves with knowledge of it and when it was built and sealed.” He looked at Gandalf to continue.

“Indeed. These runes, I believe, point to the door. However, I do not know them and there are very few left in the world who would know how to translate their true meaning.” Bilbo became lost in the conversation almost as soon as it started. He hesitated to ask though, fearing he would seem rude for interrupting. 

The dwarves began talking of such things as roads to take, rivers to cross, towns to stop for supplies in. There was talk of funding for the adventure and of dangers they could meet along the way. Bilbo felt the hairs on his arms stand on end as they talked of goblins and orcs and other terrifying beasts that littered the roads to the East. It was beginning to take shape that this was indeed a long and dangerous quest. The help of a Chosen Child would be no doubt very useful on such a venture. Too bad for the company that there just wasn’t one around. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Gandalf broke into the conversation and turned to Bilbo. “All of this is the journey but I have a true fear of your destination. Your lost mountain houses one of the chiefest and greatest calamities of our time. Which is why I would like to bring with us my dear friend Bilbo.” Bilbo blinked wide eyed at Gandalf before looking at the uncertain faces of the dwarves around him. And he fully agreed with their uncertainty.

“But what can I do, Gandalf? And what of this great calamity? I am but a small hobbit with a knack for growing things. That is all!” Bilbo’s eyes seemed to implore Gandalf not to label him as this Chosen Child he so thought he was. The wizard frowned but said nothing on that subject.

“Indeed. But the smallest of beings can bring about the greatest of changes. I ask you all, you especially Bilbo, to trust me when I say we will need our Hobbit on this adventure. He has unforeseen talents that will be useful in our journey and at the end of the road when it comes to calming a possibly still alive and wrathful dragon.” Bilbo felt the blood drain from his face.

“A dragon?! Gandalf, you must be joking!” At this point, Balin interjected.

“It is no joke, laddie. We’ve brought a contract with us for you to sign if you should want to. With a promised fourteenth share of the treasure within should we succeed. The treasure Smaug the Terrible has claimed for his own when he took our home. He slaughtered many in his conquest but he has not been seen in many decades. We believe,” Balin looked at the dwarves around him and a somber solemnity coated his words. “That it is time for us to return home.” 

“To take back our mountain.” Thorin raised a tankard and Bilbo’s world spun as he tried to take in the insanity of what was being proposed to him. As the company toasted, Bilbo turned his swimming gaze to Gandalf again.

“A dragon. You want me, Bilbo, to go with you to face a dragon.” He stood and braced himself against the wall as Gandalf answered him.

“Yes, Bilbo. You understand why I believe you will be able to soothe such a beast should he remain in the world of the living.”

Bilbo choked, “Sooth! A dragon!” He felt his breathing pick up dangerously and as he looked at the expectant dwarves around him, he felt faint. “A dragon. Dear me.” He tried to get his breathing under control but within moments, he fell to the floor in a dead faint. 

When he woke, he was nestled in his own bed. He got up and crept softly towards the dining room. Unsure if everything he had experienced had been an unpleasant dream. However, as he noticed a light still on in the living room and heard the fire crackling with an accompaniment of what sounded like string instruments and flutes, he knew it to not be so. As he drew closer, he could hear the startings of a song. 

Unlike the morning songs of his birds, this song was deep and sorrowful. Bilbo felt it cast a spell on him as he sunk to the floor against the wall separating the dining room from the living room. He could hear the deep voice of a dwarf who’d introduced himself as Bofur, the deep humming of other dwarves, and finally Thorin’s gravelly voice. It tugged at his heart strings. He could hear the loss, the despair, the confusion of that day. He could hear the long march to the Blue Mountains, a kingdom of cinder covered dwarves in exile led by their silently grieving prince turned King. He could feel the stirring of starvation in his belly and the scalding of dragon’s breath on his nape.

As the song faded, Bilbo crept back down the hall. He slipped into his mother’s study. Her many baubles and trinkets looked back at him. What would his mother have done if she were in this position? Knowing his mother, she would have thrown her wild mane of rusty curls back from her face and asked when they were leaving, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief and adventure. But Bilbo wasn’t like his mother. He wasn’t brave or wise in the ways of the world. His hands had begun to trail over the tombs his mother kept her accounts of her adventures bound in, wondering if any other her adventures had involved kings and dragons.

A knock at the door startled him. He called for whomever it was to come in. He was surprised to see not Gandalf as he’d suspected but Balin entering with a small lamp held in his hand. 

“Evening, laddie. How are you feeling?” His voice held concern and Bilbo felt touched by the kindness. The hobbit looked back up at the wall of maps and strange drawings of Men and Elves and beasts. 

“I’ve no idea if I’m honest. It’s not everyday something like this happens to me.” 

“Ay, I can understand that.” Balin raised his lantern to look at the room with better light. “Though it seems you are fond of adventuring already.” 

Bilbo chuckled. “No, not me. This is my mother’s treasure trove. She was an adventurer.” Balin seemed to hear the sorrow in the hobbit’s voice and placed a steady hand on his shoulder.

“Well, by this room of trophies, I’d say she was a hobbit lass to compare to even the most hearty of dwarf lasses.” Bilbo smiled solemnly.

“She was something else. The town was always aflutter with gossip of what Belladonna Took had done this time. What dangers and strangers had she brought through her door at Bag End to whiten the hair on my father’s feet.” 

“Maybe there’s some of that in you, laddie.” Balin began to peruse his mother’s selection of daggers and bows with a critical eye. 

Bilbo shook his head. “Not likely, Master Balin. I’m Bungo Baggins child through and through. Not since my tweens have I yearned for the life my mother lived. I prefer my comfortable home with my comfortable life to the unknowns of the wilds and adventures.” Balin hummed. “Do you not agree?”

Balin looked over to him. “Of course I agree, laddie. What I wouldn’t give to have a home and an easy life.” Bilbo felt chastened by the longing in Balin’s voice. 

“But it was taken from you.” Balín looked to him and nodded, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Indeed. It was.” The white haired dwarf looked back at the wall of mounted weapons before lifting a particular long sturdy short sword with a twisted brown leather hilt and runes on the blade. “This is of dwarfish make. These runes are Khuzdal.” He brought the blade to Bilbo who took it reverently. “It says ‘courage’ on one side,” he flipped it over for Bilbo, “And ‘mercy’ on the other. I’m not sure how your mother came across such a blade as dwarves tend to not sell weapons engraved in Khuzdal.” He patted Bilbo’s shoulder, making his way to the door. “I understand if you stay in your comfortable home, Master Baggins.” He looked over his shoulder. “We, however, do not have such a choice.”

Bilbo watched him go with an exchanged ‘goodnight’. He felt that something had changed in the air. A sense of great importance came over him. His heart went out to the lost and broken dwarves. He looked up at the painting of his mother hung on the far wall. Her mischievous smile seemed to encourage him. Her eyes seemed to say ‘What are you waiting for?’

Bilbo looked down at the blade in his hand again. 

Courage.

With a new sense of purpose, he set about quietly pulling his mother’s traveling gear from one of her chests. 

He was going on an adventure.

Chapter Text

Dawn broke over Bag End to the sound of many tired bodies dragging themselves reluctantly from their warm beds. Amongst the bustling of morning ablutions and muttering, a small hobbit stood in the far corner of his kitchen, a cup of tea clutched in his hands and a far off look in his eyes. He wore his mother’s leather traveling gear. The chest piece was a bit loose and the thick woolen tunic a bit tight on his shoulders but it was the best he could do in these circumstances. 

He’d packed a few bags. A waist satchel his mother kept stocked with healing herbs and bandages. A waterskin one could latch to their belt. A pack filled with a few necessities; a box of tinder and kindling, a box of matches in a moleskine pouch, a bundle of Old Toby, his traveling pipe, his back up pipe, a small skinning knife, and a small sewing kit. He’d packed a change of clothes, again a little odd fitting on his body compared to his mother’s but worth more to him than any of his fancy waistcoats would be. A sleeping roll was tied to the top of his pack. 

And finally, strapped to his hip, his mother’s sword. He’d debated what use he would have of a sword since he’d never held one that wasn’t wooden and faunt-sized but better to have it, he supposed. Perhaps it would give him good luck on his journey, grant him the courage that he felt so lacking in.

He was broken from his reverie by a chorus of ‘thank you’s. He’d not noticed as all the dwarves made their way from the kitchen to the dining room with plates piled high of the breakfast he’d made after packing and realizing he couldn’t sleep. He gave them small smiles and nods as they passed.

He suddenly felt stifled by the fact he hardly knew these dwarves and was about to head off with them to face a dragon! He made a hasty retreat out the front door with his pipe clutched in his hand. Some fresh air and Old Toby would clear his head certainly. 

His front bench was already occupied however. Bilbo wanted to turn tail and go back into his home. He then felt a sense of indignation. These dwarves’ presence wasn’t going to run him out of his home AND his smoking bench. 

With a determined huff, he plopped down next to the King Under the Mountain. He threw a clipped ‘goodmorning’ the dwarf’s way before setting about packing and lighting his pipe. The dwarf hardly spared him a glance as he returned the greeting and continued to puff on his own pipe. 

They sat in quiet contemplation for a few long minutes before the silence was broken by the dwarf.

“Have you decided to join us, halfling?”

Bilbo sputtered at the term. “I beg your pardon, I am half of nothing!” The dwarf raised a large black eyebrow at him. Bilbo pursed his lips. “But, yes. I have.”

“What has changed your mind?”

Bilbo took a moment to think. He felt the truth would be too vulnerable and revealing of him to say. To tell this dwarf king that he’d felt the stirrings of great sorrow and pity for the dwarves and their plight. That he’d stood late into the night looking at his mother’s painting and knowing she would have booted him out the door with encouragement and light laughter. That he’d always yearned to be Belladonna Took’s son in more than just blood. He wanted to emulate the beauty and life his mother had. That he’d suddenly felt quite disquieted by the seemingly waste of a life he was living drinking tea and sitting day in and day out on his smoking bench. 

But again all this was far too much to say to a near complete stranger. He went instead with, “A walking holiday never hurt anyone.” 

The dwarf’s gaze snapped to him and there was contempt and rage smoldering in their icy depths. He stood and looked down at the suddenly on-edge hobbit.

“My people’s plight and quest to return to our stolen home is no ‘walking holiday’.” Thorin spit the words as if they tasted vile on his tongue. “This may mean nothing to a simple halfling whose never known a days misfortune or suffered an empty stomach with no meal in sight. But, to my people, it means everything.” 

With that, the dwarf stomped off into Bag End, leaving a speechless and fuming hobbit to stare at the spot he’d been. “Oh, bebother and confusticate these dramatic dwarves.” Bilbo took a deep inhale on his pipe. He’d hardly meant to insult the dwarves’ plight. He’d simply not wanted to divulge his great internal debate to a stranger. 

Bilbo sighed and tapped out his pipe. “What a way to start a journey.”

A few hours later, Bilbo was questioning his sanity. He was on a horse! Well, a pony, but the sentiment still stands that hobbits are not meant to be on the backs of large beasts! Not that Bilbo had anything against ponies. They were extremely intelligent creatures. Much better conversation partners than the rabbits and squirrels of Bilbo’s youth. 

Bilbo did his best to not tug at the pony’s reins or cause the beast any discomfort. Her name was Mertal and she was a fine little pony. From what Bilbo could sense from her, she was a happy girl with a fondness for leeks of all things. Her varied neighs and winnies spoke of how much she was enjoying being out of the pasture she normally grazed in. Bilbo wondered if the ponies had any idea of the long journey they were about to embark on. 

They stopped for a brief lunch at the side of the road. Bilbo struck up conversation with a few of the dwarves. They were all nice enough. A hearty bunch who were just as loud without ale as they were with it. 

Bilbo settled down on a patch of moss to begin munching on a roll he’d packed for lunch. He feared what his poor hobbit stomach would do to him when it realized it wasn’t going to be living the large lavish life it had been living up to this point. He frowned at the roll, wishing he’d nipped some cheese from his pantry before leaving. 

As if sensing what he was thinking, a large round dwarf who Bilbo recalled was named Bombur held a wrapped parcel out to him. Bilbo blinked in surprise before reaching out and taking it, finding a square of sharp cheddar in its cloth confines. 

“Why thank you! Are you sure?” Bilbo hesitated to take the generosity of the dwarf, fearing he may seem soft or like a burden already needing to be taken care of on this journey. Bombur nodded and gestured to the similar squares he had passed out to each of the company before walking away.

It seemed Bombur was a dwarf of few words but Bilbo liked him just fine. Especially, if he was as good a cook as he’d heard over the dining table last night. 

They traveled on like this for many days and nights, camping just far enough off the road to have fair warning of nerdowells should they come about. Bilbo spent his days observing the dwarves and how they interacted with each other and his nights rubbing his sore bum and thighs. He wasn’t accustomed in the least to riding let alone riding for so long. 

He was surprised when a few nights into their journey the seemingly eldest dwarf of their bunch, a white haired dwarf with an ear horn named Oin, came up to him. He offered Bilbo a tin of some type of ointment and the hobbit blinked at him in confusion. 

“Fer ya saddle sores, lad. Don’t suppose you’ll be needing help putting it on?” Oin’s comment was met with ruckus laughter from the dwarves close enough to hear. Bilbo’s face went bright red.

“Most certainly not, thank you!” The hobbit felt his ears going red as well as he ducked off behind some trees to treat his smarting legs. 

The many jokes being thrown about on his behalf the next day concerning his bum were so improper, Bilbo resembled a particularly ripe tomato for most of the day. 

However, despite his embarrassment, it was a pleasant change from the nearly awkward air that had been between him and the dwarves since they’d left Bag End. He was beginning to feel like a part of the company and not just an outsider who decided to tag along on a whim. Though that was quintessentially what he was. Nevermind that Gandalf had sought him out personally. 

He’d gotten to know a few of the dwarves along the way who were a bit more open to politeness and pleasantries while trying not to fall off your horse in boredom throughout the long days. 

He’d gotten to know two of the brothers Ri. The third, Nori he believed his name was, tended to not talk to anyone and hang around the back of the company. 

Dori, however, was very pleasant and would’ve made a good hobbit. He and Bilbo struck up a conversation on how to repair leather when Bilbo realized that his mother’s old leather bracers had a tear in one of their seams. The gray haired dwarf had much to say on how to properly stitch things on the road so they were durable. Bilbo was surprised when the dwarf’s younger brother, Ori, broke into the conversation to talk about knitting. He’d been adorably excited to show Bilbo his knitting and enthused when Bilbo asked him how on Earth he managed to knit while traveling. 

The hobbit was surprised to find not one but two dwarfs who aside from their burlier appearance and weapons on their belts would’ve made fine Shire folk.

It gave him a sense of hope that perhaps he wouldn’t spend this entire journey wishing to be around like minded individuals and feeling like an outsider among great warriors. 

The only dwarves who seemed outwardly hostile to him were Thorin and Dwalin. He wished he hadn’t put his foot in his mouth before they’d even started on their journey. He hadn’t meant to offend the King so and certainly hadn’t wanted to put such a sour taste in the mouth of who seemed to be Thorin’s closest friend, Dwalin. 

Bilbo did his best to be polite and kindly. After his first few failed attempts to strike up a conversation with either dwarf and being met with either outright disdain or being given the coldshoulder, the hobbit had decided it would be in the interest of his continued health to simply avoid the two. 

As for Gandalf, well Bilbo couldn’t seem to shake the wizard’s attention. Everytime Bilbo strayed too far from the road with Mertal or found himself sitting alone around camp, the wizard was there. He continually prodded Bilbo about his decision to come and whether or not he was ready to accept his identity as one of these Chosen Children. 

One evening as Gandalf had followed Bilbo to retrieve water from a nearby stream, the hobbit had finally had enough.

“For the Valar’s sake, Gandalf! Enough!” The wizard seemed taken aback by the outburst. Bilbo stomped one hairy foot on the ground and threw his arms out beseechingly. “I am NOT one of the Chosen Children. I don’t have special powers. I’m just a Hobbit!”

Gandalf frowned at him. “Bilbo, I assure you. There is no other hobbit who can grow a plant from nothing on a whim.” 

Bilbo sputtered, “How on Earth do you know that!”

“Your mother. She wrote me one winter, saying her son was a very special lad who could grow daisies with a thought.” The hobbit smacked a palm over his eyes. He’d somehow forgotten that though his mother and Gandalf didn’t see eachother often, he remembered his mother kept up a regular correspondence with the wizard. “Indeed. And the tea you brewed for me on the morning of our meeting was touched by Yavanna. It was no dusty pouch of tea leaves you’d found from your mother but a fresh plant you had grown yourself. I don’t understand why you insist on denying what is so clearly the truth.”

Bilbo plopped down onto a fallen log, his head in his hands. He attempted to gather his thoughts before looking up at the wizard. “Gandalf, I don’t understand why I would be given such a thing as magic powers. I’ve never had ideas of grandeur. I’ve never been adventurous like my mother. I’m not even sure why I came on this quest! As if, I, a respectable Baggins, should be traipsing off into the woods with a pack of dwarves he doesn’t know and a wizard who doesn’t listen! I can’t. I just simply can’t be some being destined for great deeds. To save the world or some nonsense!” The hobbit felt ashamed when he felt thickness clog his throat and a dampness in his eyes. 

Gandalf sighed and moved to sit beside the small being. He reached a hand out and placed it on Bilbo’s shoulder. They sat like that in silence as Bilbo gathered himself and fought the sparks of fear that he’d made a great mistake growing in his breast. 

“My dear Bilbo, there are very few great heroes who ever believe they will become one. The greatest of heroes, the greatest of stories, are born from those who never sought glory. Those who were just people. With special abilities or not, they were just people. We don’t get to decide our fate. We don’t have the right to argue or reject the gifts the Valar give us when they are bestowed. It seems a time unending ago that I was a normal man. I was like you once. It’s so long ago I hardly remember. But, I remember I wasn’t always Gandalf the Grey or Gandalf the traveling wizard or the many other names I have been called through the ages. But then, I remember a feeling, like I was being brightened and burned from the inside. And then I was Gandalf as I am now. There are tales of beings like me. That we are also Valar blessed or that we ourselves are Valar. I know not the true origins of those like me. Just that we were put here to keep Middle Earth safe. That we were given the abilities we have to do our best to protect the world from evil and the long shadowed fingers of those who would seek to harm the gentlefolk of the world who want only to live out their lives peacefully.”

Bilbo took in his words, feeling overwhelmed and touched that Gandalf would share this with him. He knew the origins of the wizards and beings like them were surrounded in secrecy and myth. It seemed an honor for Gandalf to be speaking so candidly with him. 

“So will I become like you? Forced to walk the world endlessly? Saving it from its troubles?”

Gandalf chuckled and shook his head. “I’m afraid your abilities are not the same as mine. You will grow old and you will die, though you may live longer than normal Hobbits. Chosen Children are Yavanna’s way of turning the tide of a great happening in the world in the favor of the Valar’s plans. She is a clever and benevolent Vala and her ways are much more subtle than those of her kin. I do not know the full extent of the blessing given to you, Bilbo. I wish dearly I could give you more. But for now, it would be in your best interest to accept what you truly are.” 

With that, Gandalf stood and left the Hobbit to ponder.

Bilbo stayed there long into the night, staring at his hands and wondering if he could truly be something so special. Someone who was picked by Yavanna to help in the fight against the evils of the world. Perhaps his fate was to save someone like the she-elf in the stories or to grow a forest like Eliyana. Could Bilbo have that in him? Great feats and abilities? 

Before him, a patch of earth had been scuffed and churned by Gandalf’s staff.

With a shaking breath, Bilbo slid to the ground and lowered his hands to the patch. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. He could feel it. The freshness of the turned soil and the potential for growth. He breathed in. He didn’t picture a particular plant, he just urged the ground to regrow what had already been there.

As he breathed out, he was shocked to feel something quickly shoot through the gaps of his hands and Bilbo flinched back. His eyes flew open to find before him a pine tree sapling. The plant looked to be a few years old rather than a few seconds.

Bilbo had never attempted to grow something like a tree. He was stunned to find that he didn’t feel the overwhelming exhaustion he remembered as a fauntling. He wiped at the small amount of perspiration on his forehead as he looked around to make sure no one else had come to the stream for a drink and found their hobbit being bizarre. 

He looked at his hands again. They were normal hobbit hands and yet.

“Oh dear me.” Bilbo stood and scurried to gather his waterskin and return to camp. 

As he lay in his sleeping roll, attempting to drawn out the chorus of snores form the dwarves, Bilbo wondered. His connections with his animals. His abilities to grow things. Could he heal mortal wounds? Could he tame great beasts? Could he do all the ethereal feats of the other Chosen Children? Or were his abilities limited to tree growing and birdsong?

He fell asleep with thoughts of those stories he had read in the papers Gandalf had given him. His dreams that night were filled with fantastical images of forests grown from a hobbit’s touch and meadows filled with daisies and of his mother’s tinkling laughter on the wind. 

Chapter Text

The next week or so of travel led them away from the fields and forests of the Shire and passed the closest towns and villages of Men. They had passed into the Lonelands where everything seemed dreary and gray scale. Even the weather had decided to exacerbate the dreary landscape and had begun dumping buckets of rain on the poor shivering company for several days now. 

Bilbo actually quite enjoyed the rain. It wasn’t too cold out and the feel of rain on his face gave him a particularly serene feeling. At least for the first day. Several days in and he hated the rain just as much as the next traveler. 

They came to a halt next to an eerily dilapidated stone house. One wall had collapsed inward, exposing the inside to the elements. 

Brilliant Bifur, though Bilbo couldn’t understand his Khazdul, seemed to have an idea of rigging a water proof bolt of fabric over the collapsed part of the house to make a shelter for the night. Thorin ordered Bifur, Bofur, and Gloin to set it up. Fili and Kili were charged with tending the horses. Gandalf, Balin, and Thorin broke off to consult their maps in the driest area of the house they could find. Bilbo set himself to helping Bombur prepare a warm meal for the cold Company. 

A short time later, Gandalf went off into the woods in a huff. Bilbo hadn’t heard their disagreement but based on the indignant but chastened look on Thorin's face and the exasperation on Balin’s, Bilbo could only assume it was the King’s stubbornness getting to Gandalf for not the first time on their journey. The hobbit only hoped the wizard wouldn’t wander too far away.

Bombur and Bilbo called everyone to dinner when it was done. The rain had lightened up to a barely there sprinkle and the mood of the company was severely bolstered by having warm food and a dry place to sleep. Bilbo smiled at his much happier traveling companions, well minus Thorin of course, and went off to take bowls to the two youngest dwarves tending the horses.

When he arrived Fili and Kili had their heads together and made the perfect picture of two young faunts who were scheming to get out of trouble. Bilbo’s instinct was proved right when he cleared his throat and both dwarves shot to their feet and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Master Boggins! What brings you here to our lovely patch of forest?” Kili said with exaggerated cheerfulness. When Bilbo cocked an eyebrow at him and held out their bowls, the two jumped forward to take them from his hands. 

“Right, well, very kind of you to bring us our dinner.” Fili said, turning Bilbo forcibly around and leading him back the way he’d come. 

“Right! Very kind indeed!” Kili said through a mouth full of stew. Fili elbowed him.

“Now, run along back to camp. Everything’s fine here!” 

Bilbo snorted and turned in Fili’s hold, pushing the dwarf’s arm away. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot in his best admonishing stance. “And what has you two all in a tiff? What have you done?” The boys both clambered over eachother to assure Bilbo nothing was wrong but Bilbo had seen enough guilty faunts to know better. He simply kept his browcocked and waited for the two to break.

And it worked like a charm as Kili folded and looked to his brother, “Come on, Fi. Let’s just tell him. Maybe he can help? All small and sneaky like!” Bilbo felt he should take offense to that.

Fili set his bowl of stew down and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well you see, Master Baggins, we were tending the ponies.”

“All of the ponies!”

“Yes, Kili, all of the ponies. But then we got a bit sidetracked and when we returned,” He frowned and gestured to the grazing herd. “Well we’re missing two.” 

Bilbo shook his head at the boys. “Well have you gone and searched for them?” They nodded. “And?”

The ‘and’ turned out to be three ridiculously large mountain trolls around a fire who were intending on devouring poor Mertal and Daisy. Bilbo could hear the horses' fearful winnies and he wished he could call out to them to reassure them. 

Instead, he sent a prayer for Yavanna that his trusty traveling pal, as Mertal had become, would make it through this safe and that he would save her. Strangely enough, the ponies quieted after that and Bilbo could hear the words of the trolls.

They were arguing amongst themselves about their dinner and Bilbo feared they wouldn’t have long before their ponies became that dinner. Bilbo turned to the two dwarves at his side but they were gone. He looked back to see them giving him thumbs up from further back in the trees. What did they expect him to do?!

He shuffled his way quietly back to them and in a hushed voice said, “Ok, we can’t do this alone. Perhaps I can sneak over and untie the pen. But I need someone to help me in case the trolls see me. Someone else needs to run back and gather the Company. I fancy the odds of all of us versus just me and one of you knuckleheads.” The two gave outraged noises but Bilbo quickly shushed them. “Enough of that, just one of you go and the other come with me.” 

Bilbo wasn’t sure where this courage or surety was coming from but he sincerely hoped it lasted because as he looked at the trolls whose fingers were as big as his body, he could hardly contain the wobbling of his knees. 

He withdrew a small pocket knife he had stowed away and began making his way around the clearing the trolls were in. He saw Fili moving to the other side and hoped Kili was running as if wraiths were on his heels. Bilbo drew closer to the ponies. They began to knicker in fright as he drew closer but he shushed them. They quieted and Bilbo thanked whatever part of his abilities gave him this blessing in this moment. He began cutting away at the ropes that were keeping the ponies penned in. 

In the background, he could hear the trolls and smell their foul odor. He felt himself gag and put more effort into cutting, wanting to be away from that stench as fast as possible. 

He’d almost cut through the final rope when suddenly a force grabbed him around his stomach. Bilbo shrieked as he was lifted into the air.

He came face to face with one of the trolls. Its rank breath practically burned Bilbo’s nostrils as it spoke. “Well, well, well. What do we have ‘ere boys?” The other trolls laughed and one piped up.

“I’m not sure, Tom. Is it a squirrel?” Bilbo sputtered.

“I most certainly am not. I am a Hobbit!” The trolls looked at him in puzzlement and Bilbo could hardly believe what his life had come to. “Put me down! Put me down, I say!” The trolls jeered again.

“Are you tasty, Hobbit?”

“Bet it tastes like chicken!” 

“Well what do you say we find out.” Bilbo thought quickly of some way to stall till the rest of the Company arrived. An idea came to him in a flash. 

“Wait! Wait!” The troll paused in holding him over their boiling pot. “You don’t want to eat me! Not as I am! Hardly any meat on me! And I couldn’t help but hear your conversation. Perhaps you’d like some cooking advice. I’m a bit of a chef myself.” Tom blinked at him and frowned.

“What would a squirrel like you know ‘bout cookin’?” 

“Not a squirrel and if you’d put me down, I can give you some delicious herbs that would make your… stew just heavenly!” Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief as the troll put him down. It crouched and Bilbo thought his eyes might rot out of his face as he got far too much of a view of the troll’s netherregions. 

Bilbo quickly held his hand over the ground and thought of his herb garden at home. Hoping he could perform this and not faint in the middle of these hungry trolls. He’d never held his eyes open when he’d grown things before so he was surprised to see the ground flash with green light before various herbs began to sprout. 

He sighed in relief and looked up at the trolls. But the trolls were no longer hovering over him. They had all taken a step back with their weapons lifted into their hands. 

“Magic!”

“Sorcery!”

“A wizard!” The trolls all cried in unison. Bilbo was surprised to see fear in their eyes. He looked back down at the herbs and back up at the trolls.

Just then, the Company came from all sides. They yelled great war cries as the clearing devolved into a frenzy of clanging metal and rushing bodies. Bilbo did his best to avoid the trolls and the swinging of weapons. He ran to the pen and released the ponies, hoping they would make their way back to the herd. 

He turned and looked at the melee. Thorin, Dwalin, and Gloin were making quick work of one of the troll’s legs. Nori was being particularly clever, weaving a rope around one of the troll’s ankles and attempting to bring him down to their level. Bilbo turned to catch Ori about to be pummeled by Tom’s club. 

In a rush of adrenaline, Bilbo shoved the small scholar out of the way. The club clipped his back and the hobbit felt a wave of unbearable pain. He landed in the dirt a few feet away. He could hear Ori calling for help.

He attempted to drag himself to his feet but his back twinged painfully. His vision swam and before he knew it, he was lifted up into the troll's hands again. He was suddenly very annoyed with the amount of manhandling of his person that was being done in this whole ordeal. 

The trolls grabbed an arm and a leg each and Bilbo knew for a fact it would take them little effort to rip him in half. 

The entire Company had frozen at this point, realizing the imminent danger their hobbit was in. 

“Drop your weapons!” Tom snarled. “Or we rip your wizard Hobbit in half!” The looks of puzzlement on the dwarves faces would have been amusing if it wasn’t for the mortal peril he was in. Bilbo shook his head at Thorin who looked him dead in the eye. He didn’t want the entire company to be harmed for his sake. He was just a hobbit. What was he compared to the King of a nation or the Company that followed that King?

The dwarves hesitated and the trolls put pressure on Bilbo’s limbs, causing him to cry out. 

Weapons were lowered and dropped to the ground and Bilbo felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. If the quest failed here, it would be his fault. Some Chosen Child he was. Hardly able to make it two weeks into an adventure without dying and taking his whole group with him. 

In his mind’s eye, Bilbo saw the great feats of the other Chosen Children and the gory image of his Company’s bodies flayed and cooked for these disgusting trolls’ meals. He felt a wave of courage come over him again, or maybe it was insanity.

“Stop! If you wish to leave here alive, trolls! You must put me down!” The Company looked at Bilbo as if he’d lost his mind and the trolls broke into great peals of laughter.

“And what are you going to do, little Hobbit?”

“Well…” Bilbo tried to think of an efficient threat. “You saw what I can do! That is but a mere penance to the fate that will befall you if you should harm a hair on these dwarves’ heads or mine!” Bilbo saw out of the corner of his eye a flash of gray and could have wept at the sheer relief that Gandalf was here. 

The trolls gave him incredulous looks but Bilbo continued, “I am the Great Green Wizard of the Shire! I can turn your eyes into marigolds and your weapons into daffodils! I can turn you into shrubs if I wanted!” The vile beasts looked among themselves, seemingly weary. 

“Well, he did make those plants grow, Bill.”

“Shut it, Bert!” 

“No, no! He’s right! You saw the evidence of my great power! That was but a mere fraction!” Bilbo didn’t want to look at the dwarves for fear of what they must be thinking. If he didn’t die here tonight, he might end up in a looney bin by tomorrow. He hoped whatever Gandalf’s plan was, it was better than his. “Now I say, put me down and let me and my companions go!” Bill let go of his side of Bilbo and Tom shouted at him.

“Well, I’m not much for being a shrub, Tom!” 

“How about a statue?” Came Gandalf’s voice, followed by the sound of stone cracking. Bilbo was dropped unceremoniously and a great pain shot up his leg as he landed. Sunlight came pouring in from the fissure Gandalf had created in a large boulder. The trolls gave howls of shock and fear. They turned to run from the light but it had already taken its toll. Their legs froze stiff as their bodies began to turn to granite. 

The clearing became quiet for a moment before cheers erupted from the stunned dwaro. Bilbo huffed a laugh that could’ve also been a sob and laid back into the dirt. His ankle was smarting something fierce and he feared his heart was going to explode from his chest. 

He wasn’t dead. Wonder beyond wonders.

He laid there for a minute before Bofur came over to check on him. The dwarf leaned into his vision and gave him a blinding grin. “Ya alright there, Mr Great Green Wizard?” A chorus of laughter rose from the Company at the statement and suddenly Bilbo was being lifted from the ground, supported by Dori. He was cajoled for his ludicrous plan and he sincerely hoped the nickname Great Green Wizard wouldn’t stick. 

Knowing these dwarves, however, he had little hope.  

Dori and, surprisingly, Nori helped him back to their camp. It was slow goings and they fell behind the rest of the group. 

“You two don’t have to do all this for me. Oin said it’s likely just a sprain. A good walking stick and I’d be right as rain.”

“Nonsense, Master Baggins! It’s our pleasure.” Dori said in his usual posh way. 

Nori spoke from his other side. “We saw what you did for our little brother back there. You saved his life.” Bilbo felt his cheeks color and he stuttered.

“No, no, anyone would’ve done the same. I wasn’t trying to be all gallant or anything.” He winced as he tried to put weight on his foot. It was surely sprained. 

“Ay, maybe, maybe not. But you did. And for that we’re grateful.” Nori said.

The rest of their slow walk back was done in silence aside from Bilbo’s stifled noises of pain everytime he tried to be stubborn and put weight on his foot. He didn’t realize that in taking a club blow meant for Ori he had gained the loyalty of the brothers Ri. He was simply happy to have been of some use in their battle with the trolls. 

When they arrived back at camp, a deluge of ‘here’s our second wizard’, ‘ah the Great Green Wizard returns’, and other statements of the like met them. Bilbo felt his face flame again and he glared at the laughing company.

“Last time I try and save your dwarfish hides!” Bilbo muttered. Nori chuckled and Dori set him on his sleeping roll that had been set up in the corner in the driest area of the hobbled shack. Bilbo felt honored that someone had set it up for him. The Ri brothers went away with promises to check on him through the night despite Bilbo’s protests. 

Oin made quick work after he’d come over to the Hobbit. He somehow managed to have Bilbo stripped down to his underthings and covered in bandages before Bilbo could start up much of a protest. For an old dwarf, he sure was forceful. 

Next in his procession of visitors was Fili and Kili. They both hung their heads in shame and thanked Bilbo profusely for helping get the ponies back. Bilbo was happy to hear that Mertal and Daisy had made their way back to the herd and were grazing peacefully at the treeline. He waved the boys off. He knew the idiocy of young ones and despite the two being older than him, they were young in terms of dwarves. 

Bombur was next as he brought Bilbo the last of the stew from the night before. The large dwarf sat quietly with Bilbo as he ate and spoke softly of his family back in the Blue Mountains. It was a special privilege for dwarves to talk about their families with outsiders and Bilbo felt quite touched. He listened attentively as Bombur spoke of his wife and his daughter back home. His daughter was young and fiery and ran the household like a little princess. Bilbo could tell by the way Bombur spoke that the little girl had her parents wrapped around her little finger. 

Oin shooed Bombur away, insisting that the Hobbit needed rest. They were going to stay here for a day so their hobbit could heal and so the dwarves could search the nearby rock faces for the troll hoard that Gandalf insisted must be nearby. 

Bilbo took the healer’s advice and laid himself down for a sleep. He quickly fell into the realm of dreams and slept till he was woken in the evening by the last person he’d have expected to see. 

Thorin had laid a scabbard and sword next to his sleeping roll and had apparently been turning to leave when Bilbo’s sensitive ears had roused him. 

The hobbit blinked sleepily up at the dwarf king who stared back in clear annoyance that he had been caught leaving a gift at the hobbit’s side. 

“A sword. It may do you well to have one on this dangerous journey.” Bilbo blinked again and gestured to his mother's sword that was next to his pack. Thorin looked at it then huffed. “An extra sword can be of great use.” 

Bilbo gave a half smile. “I don’t even know how to use the sword I have.”

Thorin nodded at this and then silence stretched between them. Bilbo felt awkward and gestured to the sword Thorin had brought him. “From the troll hoard?” Thorin nodded. “Well, uh, thank you.” Thorin nodded again and turned, leaving Bilbo a bit puzzled but also happy. It seemed he was making progress to befriend all of his traveling companions. 

Thorin called over his shoulder from a bit away, “Next time, wait for the real warriors, halfling. Your injury slows us all down.” The happiness that had blossomed in his chest died a quick death at the gruff statement.

“I’m half of nothing.” He muttered to himself. He looked down at his swollen ankle. Thorin was right in a way. Bilbo was no warrior and he had been stupid for thinking he could sneak into a troll’s camp with just him and Fili. 

As Bilbo looked at his ankle, he wondered. He glanced around the camp to see if anyone was about but it seemed aside from Thorin having come to bring him the sword, whatever kind of non-peace offering that was, all of the dwarves were still at the troll hoard.

The hobbit wrapped his hands around his ankle, wincing at the pressure. He’d never tried to heal himself before. Could it be possible? Like the other Chosen Children? Bilbo wasn’t even sure how to go about starting to heal himself. Was it like his plants? Did he just will his body to heal? What if he did more damage to himself? Or what if he started sprouting weeds out of his ankle? 

Bilbo frowned and took a breath. It was worth a try. He doubted he could do much more harm to the already pulsating purple limb. He didn’t want to drag the Company down or be a burden. Or Yavanna forbid be left behind. An injury like this could have him limping for weeks.

He took another breath and stared at his hands. Breath in, feel the ache, the pain. Breath out, imagine what it would be like without the pain. Nothing happened.

Bilbo bit his lip and looked around before trying again. He closed his eyes this time and sat quietly. He tried to feel himself like he felt the soil. He stayed like that for a while. Trying to sense himself in a way he’d never tried before. 

Suddenly, he could feel the strained muscle and bruised flesh like he could feel soil that needed water or a plant that needed sunlight. But those were easy fixes. How does one fix a strained muscle and bruised flesh? 

Bilbo thought of his mother rubbing cooling ointment onto a bruise he’d received from falling from a tree as a faunt. He imagined that he was doing so to his own ankle now. And somehow he could feel the ointment on his skin as if it was really being applied. And the pain began to ebb.

Then he thought of how his mother used to massage the tension and strain from his father’s bad shoulder. Bungo had pulled a muscle in his youth that had never quite healed. He used to say his mother had a touch of the divine in her fingers. Bilbo imagined rubbing the ache and strain from his ankle. Soothing everything back into its right place. 

He was startled from his trance by the sound of some of the dwarves returning. He blinked owlishly, some time had passed. The sun had dropped to the horizon. 

Bilbo looked down at his ankle and hesitantly pulled the bandage away. He gasped. The ankle was by no means completely healed but it looked as if it had been healing for many weeks rather than a few hours. The bruising was muted to yellows and purples instead of angry red and the swelling had gone down significantly. He rolled his ankle to check the muscle and found that while it indeed still hurt, it was hardly the pain of a freshly sprained ankle. 

Bilbo was shocked. He had done it. He could heal.

Chapter Text

The Company continued on after their day of rest. Each dwarf had taken with him new weapons of varied make from the troll hoard and everyone seemed to be in good spirits despite the day lost and thus the more grueling pace Thorin had set for them when they rode on. 

Oin was suspicious and seemed to be under the impression that hobbits had extremely fast healing compared to dwarves. Bilbo wasn’t of a mind to change that notion, despite the knowing looks he received from Gandalf. His ankle felt relatively healed, at least enough to ride with little discomfort. 

They were a few days away from the Misty Mountains where they’d have to leave their ponies behind and continue on foot through the rough terrain. Bilbo was hoping his ankle would be fully healed by then.

The company pushed through lunch and late into the evening each day to make up for their lost time. They were beginning to show signs of fatigue but everyone was still in high spirits. The rain had stopped after their encounter with the trolls and it had been relatively warm out. 

There was music and laughter. A pleasant sign for the leaders of the group who had worried how spirits would fare following their encounter with the trolls. But it seemed the comedy of the entire affair had overshadowed the fear. Bilbo was highly teased for his ‘wizardly’ abilities. The hobbit was just happy that no one aside from Gandalf suspected they weren’t far from the truth and that Bilbo had indeed performed some odd tricks that night. 

One morning they came across a river. The banks were steep and slippery. When they waded their way through and to the other side, Bilbo received his first look of mountains. He was in awe. 

Of course he knew what mountains were and had a good guess of what they looked like. But truly seeing them, like great beasts yawning from the earth and blocking out the sun, was another thing entirely. 

“Ya alright there, Bilbo?” Bofur came up beside the stopped hobbit. Bilbo blinked and looked at him. 

“Is the Lonely Mountain among those peaks?” Bofur chortled and shook his head. 

“If only. No, those are indeed the Misty Mountains but they are not our Misty Mountain. We must cross them and make our way into Wilderland. Then from there we must pass through Mirkwood. And after Mirkwood, we’ll practically be at the foot of the mountain!” Bilbo felt a little disheartened that so much of their journey still lay ahead. Let alone the dragon waiting for them at the end. 

Gandalf called back from the head of the group, “Before we enter the dangers of the mountains, we should seek refuge in the Homely House of Elrond. I think a warm bed and a restock of our supplies is in order.” Thorin gave the wizard a look but nodded all the same.

Even if the hospitality came from the prim and proper elves, it was better than another night on the road. Their ponies would need to be stabled in Rivendell for they could not continue on their journey through the mountains with the slick hooved animals. 

“I sent word to my dear friend Elrond that we would be arriving in a number of days so they should be expecting us. We will meet some of their riders at the entrance to their valley.” 

Bilbo could hardly contain his excitement and it seemed neither could the youngest three of the dwarves. Fili, Kili, Ori, and Bilbo clustered as they rode to enthuse about Elves. None of them had ever seen one and despite the distaste between dwarves and elves in general, the three younger ones had not ever gotten a chance to build a disdain for the elves. The elder dwarves rolled their eyes.

You see it wasn’t that there was bad blood between the two races. No feuds or plans of vengeance. However, there was a distinct cultural rift between the rowdy mountain dwelling dwarves and the composed highdwelling elves. Not to mention the unspoken rivalry when it came to boasting the title of greatest craftsmen of Middle Earth. Elves crafted fine metals and elegant pieces. Versus the dwarves' more versatile and sturdy crafting. 

Regardless of that, even the elder dwarves knew to be on their best behavior as they were met by Elrond’s guards and escorted down the winding path to Rivendell. 

Bilbo and Ori were in slack jawed awe at the sight of the tall white marble structure that was Rivendell. They were led down into its welcoming doors to a courtyard where their ponies were taken off to be stabled. 

Lord Elrond came to greet them and welcomed Gandalf and Bilbo with a strange amount of warmth. It seemed the Elves were very fond of the Shire folk as they were such a rarity outside of their lands. Bilbo hoped that it was simply that and not that the more divinely attuned Elves could sense his connection to Yavanna and his not yet accepted, possible status as a Chosen Child. It seemed every elf they met wanted to bend down to Bilbo’s level and have a chat with him. 

Funnily enough, the dwarves seemed possessive over their hobbit, the younger ones and the brothers Ri in particular. 

They were led to a hearty supper and a dining hall filled with music and the sound of cheer. Ale and wine flowed healthily and the dwarves indulged. 

Bilbo couldn’t help but be honored to sit at Elrond’s side with Gandalf at his other. He thought for sure it would be a place for Thorin but it seemed that was not the case. It was an intoxicating and warming environment and conversation flowed easily. 

When the evening began to wane and the dwarves were shown to comfortable beds, Bilbo stayed with Elrond and Gandalf. They were joined by Thorin and Balin and it seemed this was when the real business would begin. 

Elrond took great interest in their pilfered swords from the troll hoard.

“These are of Elvish make. They are old swords, very old swords of the High Elves of the West, my kin. They were made in Gondolin for the Goblin-wars. This, Thorin, is the blade Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver in the ancient tongue of Gondolin. It was a famous blade. This, Gandalf, was Glamdring, Foe-hammer that the king of Gondolin once wore. How you came across these, I’m sure, is a fascinating tale.”

“How dirty trolls came upon them is a mystery.” said Thorin looking at his sword with new

Interest. 

“I could not say,” said Elrond, “but one may guess that your trolls had plundered other plunderers, or come on the remnants of old robberies in some hold in the mountains. I have heard that there are still forgotten treasures of old to be found in the deserted caverns of the mines of Moria, since the dwarf and goblin war.” 

Thorin’s face darkened in remembrance of his time fighting for Moria and the lives lost. But his face cleared and he looked to Elrond again. “I will keep this sword in honor. May it soon cleave goblins once again.” 

“A wish that is likely to be granted soon enough in the mountains you are about to traverse.” said Elrond. “But, Gandalf tells me of a map. To show you a secret door into the Lonely Mountain. I’m fond of maps myself and would be honored if you would dare show it to me?” 

Thorin sent Gandalf a withering look but pulled the map from his cloak all the same. Elrond took it and gazed long at it, and he shook his head. He hated dragons and their cruel wickedness, and he grieved the ruin of Dale and its merry bells and the still scarred land that stretched from River Running to the once beautiful heather fields that surrounded the Lonely Mountain. 

The moon was shining in a broad silver crescent. He held up the map and the white light shone through it.

“There are moon-letters here, beside the plain runes which say ‘five feet high the door and three may walk abreast.’” 

“What are moon-letters?” asked the hobbit full of excitement. He loved maps as well but had never heard of such a thing.

“Moon-letters are rune-letters, but you cannot see them,” said Elrond, “not when you look straight at them. They can only be seen when the moon shines behind them, and what is more, with the more cunning sort it must be a moon of the same shape and season as the day when they were written. The dwarves invented them and wrote them with silver pens, as your friends could tell you. These must have been written on a midsummer’s eve in a crescent moon, a long while ago.” 

Bilbo was in awe of the strange ways of the world. Surely there was far more for a simple Hobbit to learn and experience. His Took side was singing and suddenly he felt as if his mother was at his shoulder. As if her spirit was whispering into his ear, ‘I told you so’. Bilbo couldn’t help but put a hand on his own shoulder and squeeze.

“What do they say?” asked Gandalf and Thorin together, a bit vexed perhaps that even Elrond should have found this out first, though really there had not been a chance before, and there would not have been another until goodness knows when.

“Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks,” read Elrond, “and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole.”

“Durin.” said Thorin. “He was the father of the eldest race of Dwarves, the Longbeards, and my first ancestor: I am his heir.”

“Then what is Durin’s Day?” asked Elrond.

“The first day of the dwarves’ New Year,” said Thorin, “The first day of the last moon of Autumn. We still call it Durin’s Day when the last moon of Autumn and the sun are in the sky together.” The dwarf king paused for a moment before inclining his head. “Thank you, Lord Elrond. Your help here has been invaluable.” The Elf smiled and nodded as he passed the map back. 

“While I may not condone your quest, Master Oakenshield, I can’t help but feel for your plight. I pray for hope against hope that you will succeed in your venture and that the world will not feel your failure.” In Elrond’s mind's eye, he could see the dragon fire once again on the land and he indeed hoped that fate would be avoided.

Chapter Text

The company stayed for a few more days. They filled those days with relaxation and easy camaraderie. They’d all been given rooms in the same area of the palace and their own community areas. The communal bath was an experience Bilbo was not likely to repeat. Dwarves were rowdy enough without Bilbo’s eyes being scored by large amounts of body hair and water antics. 

Kili and Fili had attempted to drag the hobbit into their game of water hide and seek. They’d been particularly surprised when Bilbo had put up a troll sized fuss. Hobbits were not fond of the water and despite Bilbo’s admirable swimming skills, baths were meant for bathing not for playing. 

It was perhaps their third or fourth day in Rivendell. Bilbo was wandering the halls in search of the library that one of the elves had mentioned. The hobbit was right lost and was frowning at his surroundings when a pair of voices chimed in unison from behind him.

“A Shireling in our Halls!”

“I do say, brother, he’s so small!” 

Bilbo turned quickly to find two tall dark haired elves looking down at him. Their identical faces and bright grey eyes were mischievous. Bilbo held a hand to his chest and huffed.

“How rude! To sneak up on an unsuspecting guest like that! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” The twins chuckled and swept into matching graceful bows.

“Our apologies. I am Elladan.” The one on the right said, his hair was a bit shorter than his brother’s and Bilbo hoped he’d be able to remember which was which.

“And I am Elrohir. We are Elrond’s first born. It is a pleasure to meet you, young Hobbit.” 

Bilbo struck a bow in return and smiled, “It’s quite alright. Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” The hobbit glanced around and thought these twins might be a blessing indeed. “Say, Masters  Elladan and Elrohir, would you happen to know the way to the library? I’m afraid I’m terribly lost.” 

The two looked at each other before smiling in return, “Certainly.” One swept to one side of Bilbo while the other went forward to lead the way. They chatted amicably with Bilbo as they walked. Bilbo was happy to answer all their questions about hobbit life and the Shire. The elves were stunned by how much the small Shirelings could eat in a day, everyday, and overjoyed to hear a few hobbitish jokes and quips. 

When they arrived at the library, Bilbo was in good spirits, very happy to be getting on so well with the Elves of Rivendell. 

As they entered, Elladan made haste to a back part of the library, leaving Bilbo and Elrohir to peruse the first rows of tombs. Bilbo was overwhelmed by the sheer breadth of knowledge contained in this room alone. Grand bookcases stretched high into the ceiling filled with ancient books and scrolls. There were tables and comfortable chairs scattered everywhere for reading. 

The two occupied themselves with a few books on Hobbits that Bilbo was quickly pointing out all the fallacies in and Elrohir was getting steadily more amused by the mistakes. 

They were joined a while later by Elladan who shocked Bilbo to silence when he placed a book in front of him. Bilbo couldn’t read the Sinderan on the book, his grasp of Sinderan was child level at best. But it was not the title that made the blood drain from his face but the image embossed on the front. 

In a bright green circle, made of intricate gold leaf, was an image of who Bilbo could only guess was the Lady Yavanna, her long flowing tresses spreading across the leather like vines. In her cupped hands, she held a figure. It was indistinguishable, the race of the being. But its eyes and hands were filled with a bright green, made to look as if they were glowing. 

Bilbo looked up in stark surprise and weariness at the two elves who looked back at him with calm understanding and curiosity. 

“Do you know what this book is about, Master Baggins?” Said Elrohir, his tone gentle. 

Bilbo hesitated before nodding. 

“So you are aware of what you are.” Elladan said. Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to affirm or deny the claim thus he stayed silent. 

“Can you show us?” There was extreme interest sparkling in the twins’ eyes and Bilbo wondered how such ancient beings could look so young and childlike. 

“How came you by this information of me? How did you know?” The hobbit suddenly felt highly nervous. How was it that these two, who were complete strangers before merely an hour ago, knew of what he was? Was he beginning to show some strange sign of his abilities? Had he done something to tip the elves off?

The two elves looked to each other then Elrohir spoke, “Our father. He is a very ancient being and he has met other Chosen Children. He says there is a feeling you get when you are around a Chosen Child. That of warmth and home and change. For those who are sensitive enough to feel it and know it for what it is.”

Bilbo sighed and scrubbed his face with his hand. He looked at the two ethereal beings with pleading eyes. “Please do not tell anyone else. I hardly know if I believe it myself and I am completely inept when it comes to understanding these… abilities.” 

The twins both nodded their heads in acquiescence before leaning forward conspiratorially. 

“We won’t tell, but,” Elrohir grinned.

“You must show us!” Elladan finished. Bilbo looked at them both in stark surprise. 

“Show you?” They nodded.

Elrohir gestured to the book. “This book has some of the only accounts of Chosen Children! And in it, it says that you can grow things from nothing, heal mortal wounds, and speak to animals.”

Elladan continued, “That you are immune to the evil forces of the world and that you can even speak to the Valar personally!”

Elrohir leaned so close Bilbo had to lean back, “That you are just as powerful as the race of Maia!”

“And imagine all that in such a tiny package! A Hobbit of all beings!”

Bilbo was feeling overwhelmed and cornered while also feeling indignant at that last statement. He was going to develop an inferiority complex around all these Elves and Dwarves who kept calling him small.

He looked down at his hands and fiddled with his fingers. “To tell you the truth, I’ve no idea if I really am one of these Chosen Children. I’ve no idea if I’m able to do more than just my small tricks. I’m no great being. I’m simply Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.” 

The twins could hear the conflict and self deprecation in Bilbo’s voice and they looked at each other. Elladan prompted Elrohir with a pointed look at the small being and Elrohir frowned his eyes asking what he was to do. Elladan rolled his eyes and reached across the distance between him and Bilbo to place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Master Baggins,” The hobbit looked up, his eyes a bit watery. “Who are we as mortals, or well more mortal than the Valar, to question their will? You may not see it in you, but the Green Lady does. You must trust that her faith and blessing were placed in you for a reason.”

“Indeed,” Elrohir piped up. “There is little we can do when it comes to fate but to accept it and do our best to fulfill it.”

“But I’ve no idea what the Lady wants me to do!” Bilbo cried, startling the two. “I can grow plants and apparently heal my own ankle but what is that to a dragon or whatever other great calamity the Valar have planned for me to face!” The twins gave him matching expressions of understanding. 

“We cannot answer that, Bilbo.” 

“But, if you accept yourself for who you are, maybe you will find it easier to understand Yavanna’s will for you. If you are constantly fighting the unrelenting and preordained flow of time, you will never be able to achieve whatever it is the Lady has designed for you.”

“You will only find heartache and destitution down that path, Bilbo.” Elrohir finished.

Bilbo felt the weight of their words and knew them to be true. Perhaps he was fighting a losing battle in denying this when so many have assured him it was true. 

He saw in his mind’s eye his mother’s smile and was filled with a sudden sense of surety. 

He looked up at the twins and smiled a small smile. “I can show you a few of my tricks, but we must go to a spot outside where no one shall see us.”

The two gave him blinding grins and quickly whisked him off to a private garden on the far reaches of Rivendell’s cliffs. There, Bilbo showed them his knack for conducting the birds into their most beautiful songs, of gathering up the woodland animals such as squirrels and rabbits to fetch him specific plants from the various gardens, and grew a rainbow of colorful flowers at the twins’ behest. He drew the line when Elrohir wanted to cut his own palm with his dagger to see if Bilbo could heal him. The last thing the hobbit needed was to be found with Elrond’s mysteriously bleeding heir and try to explain all that away if he weren’t able to heal others. He did prick his own finger on a rose bush to show the two he could heal himself. 

They stayed long into the evening requesting different tricks and testing the limits of Bilbo’s abilities.

Bilbo was pleased to find even after all the exercising of his abilities, he was hardly more tired than a normal day. He wondered if his abilities were like any skill, easier to do when exercised regularly. He could now grow much more plants with just a thought and with ease. He could understand in more plain terms what animals were saying. Still not as if they were speaking in common tongue but almost as if their will and intentions and his will and intentions were communicated back and forth within their thoughts. 

The next few days, Bilbo and the twins were practically inseparable, much to the annoyance of the dwarves who felt their hobbit was being monopolized. They’d disappear for hours on end and shake any tails the dwarves put on them.

Fili, Kili, and Ori were feeling a bit abandoned by their friend but didn’t want to make a fuss when their hobbit seemed to be in such good spirits. 

Bilbo and the twins were in their hideaway garden when Elrohir suddenly pulled a small silver dagger from his boot. His brother quickly followed suit and they both made to put Bilbo behind them.

Bilbo squawked a protest and batted their hands away once he saw it was Nori who had snuck out from behind a tree. It took the hobbit a bare moment to realize that Nori must have seen him performing his tricks and a sudden wave of dread rolled over him. 

“Master Nori! What a pleasant surprise! What can I do for you?” The dwarf gave him a deadpan look and his eyes flicked up to the elves then back to Bilbo. The hobbit caught his meaning and laid a hand on each of the twins’ legs where he could reach.

“Boys, would you mind giving us a moment? I believe I have some explaining to do.” They both gave him beseeching looks but conceded, stating they would be a shout away should they be needed. Bilbo smiled and nodded and waited in silence as they walked away.

Nori had walked closer. In his nimble fingers, he flipped a long needle back and forth. Bilbo swallowed at the sight and tried to avoid Nori’s piercing gaze.

“Master Baggins, it seems there’s something spectacular about you that you’ve been hiding.” Nori’s voice was calm and Bilbo didn’t truly fear the dwarf. They had become close in the days following the troll incident and he viewed each of the Ri brothers as friends. He looked into his friend’s face and gathered his courage.

“I’ve been afraid of it myself til just recently. I hardly understand it but I’m learning to. I didn’t want to be treated more differently than I already am.” Bilbo hoped that Nori would understand.

“But, you felt comfortable enough to tell elves you met not even a week ago but not the dwarves you’ve traveled, shared meals with, and spent night and day with for a month now?” Bilbo winced at the sound of accusation and possibly hurt in the dwarf’s voice. He stepped forward and grabbed the hand Nori didn’t hold a weapon in and gave him an assuring look.

“It’s not like that! Not at all! Master Nori, you must know, I trust and care for you dwarves. More than my own family in fact!” It was true. He could hardly imagine traveling with the Sackville-Baggins duo for a month without smothering Lobelia with her own shawl.

Nori gave him a mistrusting look but didn’t pull his hand away from Bilbo’s grasp. “Then why hide this from us, Bilbo? Surely you don’t think we would have been anything but grateful to know we had such a powerful… whatever you are, on our side.” 

Bilbo frowned and looked at the ground. “I only in the past few days have admitted and accepted what I am to myself. I was afraid. I’m but a small hobbit in a very big world. You must understand. It wasn’t out of malice I hid this from you all.” The hobbit gave Nori a pleading gaze and the dwarf seemed to relax. 

He stowed his needle away in his hair of all places and rubbed the back of his neck. “Aye, I understand, Bilbo. I just wish you would have told us. It could have been very useful when we began running low on food or when Oin had us breaking off to hunt for herbs for his poultices.” Bilbo blushed and Nori caught the guilty look. “Bilbo?”

“Well, I had to be conspicuous but I did ‘find’ those wild berries and onions when we were running low and just ‘happened’ across a decent patch of St John’s Wort when Oin needed it.”

Nori snorted and shook his head, “Very conspicuous, Master Hobbit.” Bilbo smiled and stepped away, putting his hands in his trouser pockets. 

“We hobbits can be very sneaky when we want to be. Even if we’re not all master spies.” Nori shot him a look and smiled in return.

“I suppose so. Will you tell the rest of the Company?” 

Bilbo frowned and held his hand up to a fluttering hummingbird close at hand. The little sprite landed on his finger and cocked his colored head at the hobbit. Bilbo shuffled its breast with his finger tip as he spoke. “I don’t know, Nori. I want to be more sure of myself before I go announcing I’m some strange form of hobbit blessed by Yavanna.”

“Aye, I eavesdropped on your conversation with the Elves. A Chosen Child they said?” Bilbo gave Nori an admonishing glare to which the dwarf just shrugged. 

“Sneaky dwarf.”

“Sneaky hobbit.”

“Touché.” Bilbo acquiesced, “Indeed, that is what Gandalf and Elrond believe I am. I’m starting to believe it myself the more I use my abilities and the more I practice.” 

“I can understand that. I’ve heard tale of a dwarf who had similar abilities but for stone. He was blessed by Mahal with the steadiest hands for the most delicate of work and the most ferocious of axe wielding. Perhaps the Valar intercede in mortal affairs more often than we’ve been led to believe.” Nori watched the hummingbird fly from Bilbo’s finger and felt a distinct amount of awe for their hobbit. His golden tresses shining in the sunlight surrounded by the flourishing results of his powers. Humble yet grand. “Well aside from that business, I wanted to tell you that Thorin has decided we’ll move on at dawn tomorrow. So say your farewells to your fair friends and be ready in the morning.”

Bilbo clapped a hand on Nori’s shoulder, “Thank you for the message, Master Nori. And please,” he gave his friend a hopeful look. “Keep this between us til I’m ready?”

Nori nodded and gave Bilbo an answering pat on the shoulder. “Aye, Master Baggins, but you’ll owe me!” Bilbo laughed and waved the dwarf off.

“Of course, Nori, of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Chapter Text

Bilbo was saddened to leave Rivendell behind. He’d promised to see the twins and to visit Rivendell’s vast gardens and halls again. As the company made their way back up the valley out of the protected cliffs of Rivendell, Bilbo felt a distinct sense of loss. Gandalf had assured him that Elrond would be happy to host the hobbit anytime and had attempted to entice the hobbit with tales of the Mirkwood and its Elves they may meet along the way.

He’d not yet told Gandalf of his new-fangled confidence in his abilities. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up and didn’t want the wizard getting any ideas about training him in magic or something else preposterous. 

Aside from Nori, Bilbo was leaving behind the two people who knew of his abilities and accepted him. Elladan and Elrohir had helped Bilbo accept who he was and to see the good that could be done with his gift. He wasn’t ready for the Company at large to know of his oddity, but he was happy to have Nori now to confide in or help him if he needed to use his abilities in secret. Though he avoided Gandalf’s knowing gaze like the plague and would only use his confidence in the most dire of cases. 

Bilbo shook himself of his longing and took a deep breath. The Misty Mountains loomed ahead. Their journey had only barely begun and the hardest parts were still to come. There was no sense in looking back.

With a sense of renewed vigor, Bilbo stepped after the Company. 

After a day of walking, they were at the foot of the mountains. They set up camp. It was the first time along their journey that Thorin and Dwalin were highly adamant about not wandering off in the middle of the night for a wee and to keep their bed rolls close to one another. It was goblin country and while they had experienced warriors among them, they had more who hadn’t raised a weapon to an enemy in some time or ever. 

Bilbo felt a shiver go up his spine at the idea we could come face to face with such beasts. Chosen Child or not, his skill with a sword was nonexistent and he’d be a goner if he got caught out alone.

 He said as much to Balín who was helping him gather some brush and twigs for their fire. The elder dwarf looked at him appraisingly. “Well, what do you say we change that, laddie?”

Bilbo blinked, “What?”

Balín chuckled, “I may not be the greatest warrior among us but I’m nothing to shake a stick at. And I’ve taught many a dwarfling, including our very own king over there, how to wield a blade.” Bilbo looked back at the camp where the King and Gandalf were talking in quiet tones over pipes. 

“Really? You’d teach me?” 

“Of course, laddie! For the betterment of the company, you can never have enough swords on hand when things get dicey. I’ll rope the three lads into it too. Make a class of it. Mahal knows they’re only as good as their training dummies can attest to.” Bilbo smiled and, though he was nervous, felt elated he’d be learning some skills that could help him in the days to come. That would be more useful than growing plants or talking to birds. 

The dwarves and the hobbit continued up into the mountain range without much trouble for the next few days. Each evening, Fili, Kili, Ori, and Bilbo would be put through their paces by Balin. The ‘class’ as it were was varied. 

For indeed, while Ori and Bilbo were hopeless novices, the princes were actually well versed in the sword arts if not for their lack of experience in real battle. This led to Dwalin being roped in by his brother to keep the boys on their toes while Balin focused on their young scholar and hobbit. 

Bilbo was finding the whole endeavor to be as grueling as it was fulfilling. His fingers ached and his behind was bruised from falling onto the stone ground far too many times. But everytime he received a word of praise from Balin or from the dwarves who gathered to watch the sometimes comical show, he felt his determination to train grow. 

He wondered what his mother would think of him now. Using her old sword and old leather traveling gear to spar with dwarves in the Misty Mountains on their way to see a dragon and reclaim an abandoned kingdom. He could only imagine that she was consoling his poor father as he wept at what had become of his once respectable son. 

His evenings, before he could pass out from exhaustion, were spent helping Dori mend his clothes which were starting to certainly show the wear and tear of the road and training. He hoped he wouldn’t end up without any armor before this journey was through and wished he had thought to ask Elrohir and Elladan if they had any leather to spare for patching. 

He also helped Bombur with the cooking most nights or went with Nori to gather kindling and ‘find’ random batches of useful plants. He helped Oin make poultices and gather twine for wrappings and such. He even had struck up a bit of a friendship with Gloin the few times he’d gone with the dwarf to scout ahead. Gloin was strong enough to pull himself up onto the craggy clefts and eagle eyed enough to look out for possible dangerous paths where the stone was unstable. Bilbo was nimble enough to get to the spots Gloin couldn’t to report down what he saw. 

Though the first time he’d been asked to climb the mountain face to look ahead, he’d nearly fainted at the height. While they were traversing to their look out points, Gloin told Bilbo of his wife and son back in the Blue Mountains. The dwarf shown with pride when he spoke of his family, constantly waving his locket in Bilbo’s face to show off the two. Bilbo felt his heart warm at the clear love he had for his family. He vowed he’d do everything he could to make sure Gloin would get back to his Gimli and his Alda.

Here in the mountains was the first time Bilbo felt like a real asset to the Company. He didn’t know if it was his new found confidence in himself or that he now had a friend aside from Gandalf who he didn’t have to hide from. Maybe it was that he’d been able to help nearly every dwarf in their company with odds and ends, with the exception of Dwalin and Thorin. 

Those two still kept him at a distance. Bilbo wasn’t sure why but he didn’t feel too disheartened by it. They kept to themselves more often than not either way. Thorin would sometimes speak with Kili and Fili and Gandalf when the need arose, Dwalin with his brother and the boys. They always lingered at the far head or the tail end of the Company. Always, their eyes searched the shadows for danger. 

Bilbo had begun to think of them as their stoic guard dogs, always on alert. 

A sharp contrast to the Company’s jester, Bofur who at this very moment was singing a raunchy tune to liven their spirits as they traversed a particularly difficult patch of the path. To one side was a stark mountain face and to the other was a deep ravine. Bilbo felt dizzy everytime he glanced at it. He hoped everyone was remaining sure-footed. The rain that had begun beating down on them was making it a difficult task. The dark clouds and lightning weren’t much of a help either. The changing light made it hard to gauge where one was putting their foot or boot. 

He was in the middle of the Company. Ahead of him was the jaunty singing Bofur who never seemed in a bad mood. Behind him was Fili, Kili, and Ori. Somehow the four always seemed to be grouped in the middle of the dwarves like a herd huddling around its young. 

Bilbo snorted at the thought.

Above them, a huge crash was heard. Suddenly, it seemed the mountain face began to ripple. Someone, he thought it was maybe Gandalf, cried ‘stone giants’ from up ahead. Bilbo had no idea what a stone giant was but he didn’t want to find out. Bilbo felt Ori’s hand tangle in his tunic and felt a sudden protective urge.

“Don’t worry, Ori. We’ll be fine!” Bilbo tried to convey over the thundering and banging. He could hear Thorin shouting orders from the back end of the Company. They made their way carefully forward, hoping against hope that they would come across a cave and not end up smashed or smushed. 

The Company was able to avoid the stone giants and find a dry enough cave to settle down in to wait out the storm. Bilbo hoped there wouldn’t be a cave in from the stone giants fight but according to Bifur, who Bilbo still couldn’t understand but was told, his stone sense said the cave was sturdy and would hold. Bilbo was relieved and suddenly had the thought that it was a right shame he couldn’t understand Bifur. He’d been able to get close to the dwarf’s cousins but the language barrier between him and the dwarf didn’t allow that. 

Bilbo had an idea. After everyone had settled in for the night, fed and as comfortable as they could be in the circumstances, the hobbit found Bofur and pulled him to the side. 

“What can I do for ya, Master Baggins?”

“Bilbo, please. And I was hoping you would know of a way I could communicate with Bifur. I know that outsiders aren’t allowed to learn Khuzdul but I thought maybe you could translate for me…” Bilbo heard his plan out loud and felt foolish. “Oh bebother, I’m sorry, nevermind. It’s a silly idea.” What would Bifur have to talk about with the hobbit anyway that would require that much trouble on Bofur’s behalf?

Bofur stopped him as he made to walk away and Bilbo looked up into his face to find there was a strangely open and happy expression. He gave the hobbit a small smile. “Sounds like a fine idea, Master Bilbo. And you’ve no idea what it would mean to Bifur to have someone try so hard to befriend him. He’s often written off as lame or dumb because of his axewound and its consequences.” Bilbo felt a warmth in his chest and smiled in return. “But,” Bofur smirked. “I can do ya one better than acting as a glorified translator.”

And that was how, for the next few evenings, Bilbo was excused from helping with chores to learn the sign language of the dwarves. Apparently, it was mostly used by the dwarf warriors to communicate silently with one another and for the few in Bifur’s situation who couldn’t communicate any other way. 

Bilbo was thrilled. He loved languages and was a fast learner when it came to them. He was honored to be taught this one by such a secretive race. He was even more honored by the smiles he received from Bombur and Bofur when they saw him able to converse with their cousin without assistance. He’d picked up a few words in Sinderan from the elves and was excited to think of how many more languages he would encounter on their journey. 

Bifur was an interesting dwarf. He was a toymaker before the fall of Erebor. He had lost his wife in the Fall and had traveled with Thorin and the other Ereborians to the Blue Mountains where he’d continued his life as a toymaker. He showed Bilbo how to whittle a little and though the hobbit wasn’t very good, it seemed an excellent pass time in the wee hours of the morn when one couldn’t sleep. 

Bilbo was overjoyed to be learning so much from the dwarves. From sword fighting to medicine making to rock climbing to whittling, he felt that if he ever made it home to the Shire he would be very bored indeed. 

He wondered if that was how his mother felt. She was always coming home from small adventures with a new hobby she’d lose interest in in a matter of months. Then she’d return with another. Was she bored in the peaceful mundane Shire? Ever seeking new entertainment and knowledge from the vast lands beyond their borders? 

He could only guess. 

Chapter Text

A few nights later, when the company was almost to the other side of the mountain range, their relatively safe so far quest took a turn for the deadly. Bilbo and Thorin were the only ones awake. Thorin to keep watch and Bilbo for sheer inability to fall asleep. 

The hobbit was preoccupying himself whittling a likeness to tulip, a sense of homesickness falling over him. Thorin was stoic as ever, his pipe in his teeth. 

Then stranger than strange, Thorin had called quietly to Bilbo to join him. The hobbit was confused. It was the first time since Thorin had given him his extra sword that the king had spoken specifically to him. Bilbo had truly begun to think the dwarf just truly had a distaste for him and that the gift had been a fluke. 

The hobbit rose and padded over to the king. He joined him on the ground and lit his own pipe for want of something to do with his hands. 

“I wanted to speak with you, Master Baggins.” Thorin began in his gruff voice. 

“Of what, Your Highness?” Thorin shot him a look and Bilbo was astonished to see the corner of the dwarf’s lips turn up. 

“For dwarves, we call our royalty by their names always. It’s the dwarf way of maintaining a connection to our people without lofty titles. Besides, I am no King if I have no Kingdom.” Bilbo blinked in response and was quiet. Pondering. 

“Well, Master Oakenshield-”

“Thorin.” The dwarf interjected.

“Master Thorin,” the dwarf rolled his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

The black haired dwarf was silent for a while yet, before he answered. “I wanted to apologize to you, Master Baggins-”

“Bilbo,” the hobbit interjected wryly. 

Thorin raised a brow then continued. “Master Bilbo, I wanted to apologize to you. For my conduct since the beginning of our journey. I was weary to bring an outsider other than Gandalf on this quest. Especially one so small and seemingly defenseless.” Bilbo harrumphed but Thorin raised a hand. “I digress that I was under many illusions when it came to you and your abilities.” 

Bilbo felt a lance of cold go down his spine at the word but he shoved it away. Nori wouldn’t have betrayed his confidence and neither would Gandalf. So it couldn’t be his status as a Chosen Child that Thorin was referring to. 

Though, as Bilbo practiced and his abilities became more and more useful to the group and harder and harder to hide, he wondered if it might be time to do away with the secrecy. 

Now would not be that time however as Thorin continued, “You are a fast learner and a hard worker. I have seen you help every dwarf on this journey and you’ve complained little more than the rest have. I was wrong to make presumptions on your character based on the comfortable life you lived in the Shire and for that I am sorry.” 

BIlbo was taken aback by the honesty and sincerity in the dwarf’s voice. He had figured that the dwarf didn’t like him and had resigned himself to just staying out of his way. But to have the dwarf not only speak to him but apologize for his misgivings. Bilbo was honored.

“I thank you, Master Thorin. I will admit that when I set out on this journey and I had already offended you so before even leaving my yard, I had wondered if I would ever gain your favor.” 

Thorin seemed to wince in remembrance of their conversation on the bench at Bag End. “Do not forget I had insulted you as well. I know now of your extreme disdain for the word ‘halfling’ having heard the tongue lashing you gave to Fili and Kili back on the road from Rivendell.”

Bilbo blushed. “Well,” He took a draw from his pipe. “Sometimes lads need to learn not to use foul language lest their mouths be washed out with soap.” 

“Indeed,” Thorin chuckled and Bilbo thought to himself that that was the first time he had heard Thorin laugh. “Their mother knows that all too well and would probably thank you.”

“I’m sure.” They were quiet for a moment before Bilbo continued. “What I said on the bench was a lie to bolster my courage and to seem nonchalant.”

“Oh?” said Thorin.

Bilbo blushed and nodded. “Indeed. I did not take on this adventure at a whim or for a walking holiday. To be honest, I’d heard your song in my living room and I’d felt a great yearning. And then my dear mother’s portrait wouldn’t stop berating me with her mischievous eyes the entire night and then well,” Bilbo gestured to the cave at large. “Here I am. At least, that is the more blatant of it. There was also a personal need to see the wide world. To be something more than a hobbit cozy in his hole till he withered with old age and passed with nothing greater than the Shire’s gossip to say on his tombstone.”

“That’s rather morbid.”

Bilbo chuckled. “We hobbits can be rather morbid when the mood strikes us. But really,” He looked up at the dwarf. “I felt a great sorrow for you and your people. To have known such hardship. The Shire,” he frowned. “It is a place of great plenty, rarely touched by disease or hunger or dark days. But it doesn’t mean we are always without them.” Bilbo grew more solemn. His mind traveled back to the Fell Winter and the following spring and summer when he lost both his father and his mother. “I wanted to do what I could to help you all find peace again. To find a home again.” 

Thorin seemed to be taking in his words and the two shared a long pause. It seemed his confession didn’t need any response and Bilbo was glad for it. He felt a distinct amount of embarrassment for allowing his emotions to carry him away so. 

They shared this peaceful quiet til there came a strange groaning noise. It startled them both and their heads whipped around in search of the source. The far wall seemed to be opening, however that was possible! The two stood swiftly, calling to rouse the Company. It seemed that was the sign for their foes to swarm them as before the dwarves could even raise their heads, they were beset by goblins.

Bilbo and Thorin had time to draw their weapons. Both their swords glowed with blue light and they both felt distinctly ashamed for not noticing beforehand. They both attempted to keep the goblins at bay but they were overwhelmed quickly.

Gandalf shouted for everyone to get down and there was the smell of sulfur as a large bang went off in the cavern. Many of the goblins lay in charred piles but more were spewing from the passage. Bilbo’s heart raced and he wondered if they would die here, so far from their goal.

The bang had given the dwarves time to gather their weapons and they were putting up a good fight. Without realizing, in their haste to drive the hoard back, the Company had made its way through the opening. They only realized this when the stones slammed shut, trapping them sans their wizard in the tunnel teeming with goblins. Their surprise allowed the goblins to get the best of them and soon they were all tied and missing their weapons.

They were being marched down into the dark through winding tunnels like a maze within the mountains. The goblins were rough in their handling and jeered the dwarves when they stumbled. The three younger dwarves and Bilbo were once again consigned to the middle of the group so thankfully they didn’t get poked and prodded and pinched quite as much as the others. 

After an eternity of this, they were shoved blinking into a large cavern. It was filled with the red light of a great bonfire in the middle. Bilbo was slackjawed at the sheer number of goblins and suddenly he feared that they would never make it out of here. He hoped Gandalf would remember to speak of them all fondly when he told of their failed quest that ended in the goblin tunnels. 

The goblins had some how been able to make it here with their packs and weapons long before the dwarves. Their supplies and personal belongings were flung all around being pawed at and sniffed by nosy goblins. He heard one of the dwarves give a shout when a goblin picked up a delicate looking piece of jewelry and Bilbo felt a horrible sense of disgust when the goblin grinned and licked the metal necklace.

In the center of the chaos was a disgustingly large goblin on a dias raised above the rest with a smattering of goblins with boney spears surrounding him.

“Who have we here?” The Goblin King spoke in a lascivious tone that made Bilbo’s skin crawl. The Company remained silent, unwilling to answer to these horrible beasts. 

One of the Goblins came forward and tossed Thorin’s unsheathed sword, still glowing, at the foot of the Goblin King. The hulking being snarled and the goblins around him gnashed their teeth. 

“I know this sword! You,” he pointed to Thorin with a dirty gnarled nail. “You bring the murderer of my kin, the slayer of my people, Orcrist into my den! You dare to come here to our tunnels to slay us! Like your elf friends!”

Thorin roared above the chorus of threats being hurled at the Company, “We’ve done no such thing! We were taking shelter from the storm, just passing through!”

“Liar! Murderer! Goblin killer!” The great Goblin howled. “Take them away! Bury them in the dark! Let them rot! Let them become food for our young and their bones become tips for our spears!” The Company gave cries of fear and outrage. 

Just then, all the fires in the cavern went out. Every creature was doused in darkness then blinded as a column of bright blue light exploded from the center of the dais behind where the Goblin King stood. All the torches sputtered with great bouts of this blue fire, raining cinders and sparks onto the goblins. They caught a light like so much kindling and began falling from their perches and craggy outcroppings. Like fireflies, they fell into the dark. The Company was seemingly shielded from the onslaught as the goblins all around them that had been keeping them corralled together caught fire. 

Then with a great yell, a glowing sword tip appeared from the Great Goblin’s neck. The beast’s head fell from his body to reveal Gandalf. Bilbo was so happy he could’ve kissed the wizard. 

“Grab your packs! Let’s go!” Gandalf said, before turning and running down a ramp behind the dais. The Company scrambled to follow, kicking goblins away over the edge left and right. They ran after their wizard with the goblins who had regained their senses and avoided the flames on their heels. 

The Company turned once they were in an enclosed space to fight off the goblins that had followed, making quick work of them. 

When all was said and done, the Company was honestly not too bad off for their horrible circumstances. Most everything had been recovered from the goblins, including Dori’s necklace that had been the jewelry to be so rudely violated by a goblin tongue. 

Now they only had to handle the matter of finding their way out of the tunnels while avoiding more goblins. They hoped that with the lack of a leader and the large amount of their kin slain, they might decide to stay in their cavern and recover. 

There was no such luck as within a half an hour of traversing the tunnels, they could hear the cries of goblins behind them. They took up a fast pace, Bilbo thankful for his increased endurance from all that rock climbing to keep up with the admirably fast for their stout stature dwarves. 

However, they didn’t know the tunnels as well as the goblins and were surrounded and cut off. The dwarves raised their weapons and prepared for combat as the goblin throng met them on all sides. 

Bilbo was doing his best to stay on his toes and avoid being slashed or scratched but it was hard work. He’d hardly had more than a week of sword training under his belt and he’d never been in a real battle before. The dancing shadows of the goblins' torches were disorientating and he was growing more scared that he would slash one of his fellows than one of their enemies. The group was being separated slowly but surely by the movements of battle and the falling of goblin bodies. 

Bilbo was suddenly struck from behind by something hard and his vision went black.

Chapter Text

Bilbo opened his eyes to an intense darkness. His head was pounding and he felt as if he had woken up after a night of getting into Hamfast Gamgee’s moonshine. He blindly groped around for his pack and his goblin sword. He was thankful it wasn’t glowing meaning there were no goblins near. He grabbed his mother’s sword and unsheathed it. Not knowing what he would find in these tunnels. 

He stood and found he was no longer in the tunnel he had blacked out in. It seemed he had either been dragged or carried and was now in a completely different tunnel judging by the lack of dwarves or goblin bodies. He couldn’t believe they’d left him behind so there must have been quite a bit of trouble for him to have ended up separated from the group. 

Bilbo stood, confused and worried about what to do. He knew he had to find a way out of these tunnels but he hardly knew how. It struck him that perhaps he could sense his way out with his abilities. Perhaps if he focused on the idea of sunlight and fresh air he would be able to make his way to them. 

The hobbit stood in silence for a long time, his eyes shut, simply breathing. He tried various ways of attempting to tap into his abilities. He’d never done something like this before and it simply wasn’t working. Bilbo sighed and plopped down onto his behind in defeat. His fingers danced over his mother’s sword and felt at the runes there. Courage. Mercy.

Well, he wasn’t feeling very courageous and the world wasn’t very merciful right now. Was he doomed to die in the goblin tunnels? Far from his home and his dwarves and with nary a soul to tell his tale?  Here in the dark?

Suddenly, he had an idea. He stood and held his hand against the wall and thought grow. He smiled in triumph as an iridescent blue bulb grew from the stone. It gave just enough light for Bilbo to be able to see a few feet ahead. He realized that he could just grow these along the way and that way he could see and know where he had been. He thanked Yavanna for her gift and its usefulness. And Elrohir and Elladan for urging him to try and grow the glowing flowers of their grandmother’s home in Lothlorien.

The hobbit began to make his way, hoping he wasn’t wandering further into the mountain. He also hoped that he wouldn’t exhaust himself and that all the practicing he had been doing would allow him to make it to at least somewhere with light.

He wandered on like this for a while. He’d come across his own flowers a few times and had to double back to a fork in the tunnel or two. But aside from that it was easy going. He’d picked up a ring a while back, thinking maybe it belonged to one of the company and he’d be able to return it when, well if, he found them. He hoped they were alright.

He came to a great cavern, not the same one the goblins had been in but a dark one filled with water. Bilbo sighed. It seemed he had come to a dead end and would have to make his way back and try again. He sat at the water’s edge to catch his breath and snack on a few pieces of dried meat and fruit he had stashed in his bag. 

The journey so far had not been kind to his hobbity figure and Bilbo knew he was a mere slip of his former chubby self. 

Back in the Shire, he’d be gathered up into the closest Granny’s parlor and made to eat till his buttons popped. Bilbo was fantasizing about a warm slice of pie when he heard a pebble clank to the ground a few feet away from him. 

He thanked Balin and his training as he raised his sword with enough time to stop his attacker from getting within arm’s reach. 

The creature was strange. It wasn’t a goblin though it shared their pale skin and dingy complexion. It was clothed in just a loincloth and Bilbo could smell the rot on its teeth from where he stood. 

“Bless us and splash us, my precioussss! I guess it’s a choice feast; at least a tasty morsel it’d make us, gollum!” And when the creature said gollum he made a horrible swallowing noise in his throat. 

“Who are you? What are you?” Bilbo said, holding his sword steady between them. Never take your eyes off an opponent when you can. Watch for subtle signs for where they’ll move and strike next. Balin’s teachings rang in his ears. It was far more terrifying to be alone facing a single foe than it was when they were being swarmed but he had his friends at his side. His heartbeat was rushing loud in his ears. 

“What iss he, my preciouss?” whispered Gollum.

“A hobbit.”

“What’s he got in his handses?” said Gollum, looking at the sword.

“A sword.”

“Sssss” said Gollum, and became quite polite. “Praps ye sits here and chats with it a bitsy, my preciousss. It likes riddles, praps it does, does it?” Bilbo blinked in confusion at the strange creature. Riddles? What kind of foe would want to ask him riddles?

Bilbo’s arm was beginning to strain from holding his sword high for so long. He took a chance and lowered it to his side. “Alright. You ask first.”

Gollum seemed delighted and did a weird jig on his gangly grotesque hands and feet. “What has roots that nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?” 

“Easy!” said Bilbo. “A mountain.”

“Does it guess easy? It must have a competition with us, my preciouss! If precious asks, and it doesn’t answer, we eats it, my preciousss. If it asks us, and we doesn’t answer, then we does what it wants, eh? We shows it the way out, yes!”

Bilbo looked at Gollum wearily before nodded, “Alright.” He hoped this creature wouldn’t go back on his word and if he did, well Bilbo hoped he would be able to fight him off. “Thirty white horses on a red hill. First they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still.”

“Teeth! teeth! my preciousss; but we has only six!” Bilbo could see that and wanted to gag at the rot in Gollum’s teeth. “Voiceless it cries, wingless flutters, toothless bites, mouthless mutters.” 

“Wind, wind of course,” he said and Gollum seemed quite disappointed that Bilbo had gotten it right. Bilbo gave him his riddle, thinking this would stump him for sure. For Bilbo knew he was not playing fair with this riddle as it was hardly a riddle. “What have I got in my pocket?”

“Ss, ss, ss,” said Gollum. “Not fair! not fair!” he hissed. “It isn’t fair, my precious, is it, to ask us what it’s got in its nassty little pocketses? S-s-s-s-s, It must give us three guesseses, my preciouss, three guesseses.”

“Very well. Guess away.” said Bilbo.

“Handses!” said Gollum.

“Wrong,” said Bilbo. “Guess again!”

“S-s-s-s-s,” said Gollum more upset than ever. He thought of all the things he kept in his own pockets: fish-bones, goblins’ teeth, wet shells, a bit of bat-wing, a sharp stone to sharpen his fangs on, and other nasty things. He tried to think what other people kept in their pockets.

“Knife!” he said at last.

“Wrong!” said Bilbo. “Last guess.” Now Gollum was in a right state. He hissed and spluttered and rocked himself backwards and forwards, and slapped his feet on the floor, and wriggled and squirmed; but still he did not dare to waste his last guess. “Come on!” said Bilbo. “I am waiting.”

“String, or nothing!” shrieked Gollum.

“Both wrong,” said Bilbo. He raised his sword again. “Now, we had a deal. Show me the way out.” Gollum was still muttering and rocking himself. The creature tensed up then looked at Bilbo with gleaming eyes.

It growled and said, “Fine. But it must wait, yes it must. We can’t go up the tunnels so hasty. We must go and get some things first, yes, things to help us.”

“Well, hurry up!” said Bilbo. As soon as the creature was into its small water raft, Bilbo turned and fled up the tunnel. He ran as fast and as quiet as his hobbit feet would take him and then some. He went past his flowers and into the dark. After a while, Bilbo slowed for fear he’d run into a wall. He’d already tripped and bruised himself like a ripe peach a few times on unsuspecting rocks in his way.

He huffed and listened and could only hear his own breathing. No muttering, raving Gollum. He sighed and hoped that would be the last he’d see of the strange creature.

No such luck.

Suddenly he heard a screech. It sent a shiver down his back. Gollum was cursing and wailing from somewhere closer than Bilbo would like. The hobbit began moving faster again. But he couldn’t see and he had no idea where he was. Gollum was fast and he knew the tunnels.

In a moment, it sounded as if Gollum would be one him. Better to take a stand on two sturdy feet than have your back to a surprise enemy, Balin’s voice rang in his head. Bilbo stopped and he shoved his hand out. He needed light. Gollum would have an unfair advantage over him in the dark. 

His bright iridescent bulbs sprouted all across the tunnel floor and wall, lighting the area up blindingly. Bilbo put his back to one of the walls and waited. The sounds of Gollum’s stamping and scuffling and huffing were getting closer.

Then from the dark, two eyes. Gollum drew closer, spitting and snarling. 

“Curse it! curse it! curse it!” hissed Gollum. “What has it got in its pocketses? Oh we guess, we guess, my precious. He’s found it, yes he must have. My birthday-present.”

“I’ve no such thing. I don’t want to kill you!” Bilbo tried to sound confident but again he had nary a week of sword training and he was alone. 

“My birthday-present! Curse it! It stole it!”

Bilbo was confused then he was hit with a sense of realization. The ring he’d found? Could that be it? Bilbo hesitantly took a hand off his sword hilt, trying to track Gollum as the beast shuffled back and forth, back and forth in front of him.

He reached into his pocket and as soon as he made contact with the ring, Gollum leapt, screeching. Bilbo swung with the sword and his finger slipped into the ring as he fumbled. Then the world exploded with light.

Bilbo let out a cry and fell to his knees clutching his head. But his knees didn’t hit stone floor, nor did his back hit the rocky surface of the wall he’d been leaning against. His hand was no longer holding his sword.

Bilbo blinked his eyes open against the intense light and made a noise of shock. 

He was no longer in the tunnels but in a vast meadow. There were flowers and green grasses for as far as the eye could see. He stood. 

Was he dead? Had Gollum killed him for the ring in his pocket?

“No, my love, you are not dead. Not quite yet.” A soft voice like honey and tinkling bells spoke. 

Bilbo turned and nearly thought he would faint. For he knew instinctively who this was. He threw himself into a low bow, practically a grovel. A laughter like the sound of wind chimes met his ears and a hand warm like sunlight rested on his head.

“There’s no need for that, little one.” Bilbo looked up into the ethereal, caramel face of Lady Yavanna. Her long hair flowed like honey and cream and sparkled in the light. Her warm chocolate eyes tinged with emerald green shone at him. Bilbo felt distinctly unworthy of that gaze.

She laughed again. “Bilbo Baggins, dear dear Bilbo.” Her soft palm cupped his cheek and Bilbo realized he was weeping. He knew not why but he felt like a small hobbitling who’d come home to their mother after a long day’s play that had turned into a scary adventure that made one wish for home. Her soft thumb brushed his cheek, guiding the tears away.

“My child, we have but a moment. The other Valar mustn’t realize I’ve interceded so much.” Bilbo was confused but he felt as if his lips could not open and his voice could not speak. “If you were to speak in this realm, my spell would be broken and the others would know you are here. Hear me now and remember my words.”

“We have done this all before. But this time I cannot bear to see our world fall to ruin. To watch my children suffer. I was allowed to make you, my love. My Chosen. But it won’t be enough. The world will still fall to darkness and so much pain will be wrought for the sake of power and glittering things. So, I want to give you,” She smirked and Bilbo saw his mother in her mischievous face. “A little push in the right direction. The ring in your pocket spells the damnation of your world. It is the One Ring.” Bilbo shuddered and gulped. He knew that the Lady would not lie and thus the fact his had touched the One Ring, drenched in so many’s blood as it is, made his skin crawl and his stomach rebel. 

Yavanna smiled. “See, this is why I cherish you Hobbits above all else. You are so content without the taint and tempt of riches or power. I’m sorry I had to use you in this way, to take you from your warm hearth and hole.” Her eyes flickered past Bilbo for a moment and she frowned.

“You’re keeping secrets, my flower. But you cannot hide from me.” A deep timber spoke from behind Bilbo. He turned to look and found a dwarf. Taller than most and resplendent in shining platinum armor. His dark hair fell in braids around his face and his eyes were a piercing blue; Durin blue. This must be Mahal. 

“No secrets, just party tricks, my sapphire.” Mahal raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly down at Bilbo who suddenly felt very small indeed. “Give me but a moment.”

“You know this is forbidden. The Council will not be happy with your meddling.” Mahal crossed his arms and gave his wife a despairing look. Yavanna laughed and moved to give Mahal a kiss on the cheek that seemed to melt the Vala to putty in her hands. 

“Just a moment, my love.” Yavanna turned back to Bilbo and knelt before him. She raised her hands to his cheeks and Bilbo wished dearly that he could speak and ask his many questions. “I can only give you a few clues to your journey, my child. You must kill the Hobbit Smeagol turned cave dweller Gollum. He cannot be saved in the mortal realm and will be a hindrance. But I promise I will take him into my fields and he will live with his kin till the world ends and begins anew. Have mercy on him.” 

Bilbo had many questions about that particular realization. Gollum was once a Hobbit? Bilbo shuddered. How could such a being have once been a gentlehobbit? 

“The One Ring does nothing but corrupt, my child. It would have done the same to you eventually if I had let this play out.” Bilbo shook his head as if to say never but it must be true for Lady Yavanna would not lie. 

“My second advice for you, Smaug is no enemy of the world. He too was corrupted. All the dragons were at the end of the Second Age. Smaug is an animal like any other. Listen to him with the abilities I have gifted you, the real him. Have mercy on him.”

“And, thirdly, you must take the Ring to Mordor. Before the dark forces have time to gather. You must throw the Ring into Mount Doom. You must end this war before it begins.” She leaned forward and kissed Bilbo’s forehead. Her lips spread calm and warmth through his body. “Have mercy on us all.”

She looked into his eyes and Bilbo felt a great emotion swelling in him. She smiled.

“Most of all, have courage, Bilbo Baggins. Have courage.”

With that, Lady Yavanna and the meadow faded. 

As if in slow motion, Bilbo was back in the present, watching Gollum about to lunge for him. That feeling in his chest swelled again. The light of the flowers glistened off the runes of his sword. Courage.

With all the force his hobbit body could muster, Bilbo shoved the sword forward. It plunged into Gollum’s chest and the creature howled a horrible sound that would haunt Bilbo’s nights for years to come. The feel of metal meeting flesh was unlike anything Bilbo had ever felt and he thought he might be sick. 

But he was still in a fight and he still had to win.

Bilbo pulled his sword loose and didn’t give Gollum a moment to recover. He swung down again, this time aiming for the creature's neck. 

The slice was clean and the deed was done.

Bilbo stumbled back away from the corpse, dropping his sword. His stomach roiled and he bent to heave the little he had eaten onto the ground. He wiped the bile with the back of his hand and realized there was bright red blood on it. He coughed and heaved again. 

Tears raced down his cheeks and he felt wholly gutted. 

He’d never killed before. And the deed, though ordered by the Valar, sickened him. 

He, Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, respectable gentlehobbit of the Shire, had killed someone. Another hobbit. A poor soul who had been corrupted by the greatest of evils. 

Bilbo reached into his pocket and found the ring was no longer just sitting in his pocket. He withdrew a small green velveteen bag with golden ruins all upon it. He opened it and shook the ring out. The disgusting thing seemed so innocent, so ordinary. Bilbo felt an intense hate for it. Bilbo put the ring back into the bag, assuming Lady Yavanna had enchanted it to keep the ring safe and hidden. 

He picked up his sword and stared at the runes for ‘mercy’ for a long time. He gave Gollum’s body a glance and knew he must send the poor Hobbit off the right way. He sheathed his sword and knelt next to the body. 

Smeagol, Yavanna had called him.

Bilbo laid Smeagol’s arms over his bloody chest and lowered his wide bulging eyelids. He closed his own eyes and grew a bouquet of funeral flowers. 

Gardenias for peace. Lilies in hopes his soul would be born anew. Orchids for sympathy that a hobbit’s life was wasted in the dark. And white roses for the innocence and purity that was wasted. He pulled them from the ground and cut them with his pocket knife. He placed them in Smeagol’s cooling hands.

Bilbo felt he should say a few words. But he knew not what to say. Instead, he sent up a prayer to Yavanna, that she would hold true to her promise and carry Smeagol to his kin. 

With an air of solemnity, Bilbo stood. He could do no more for this Hobbit except go forward. To complete his tasks given to him by Yavanna herself. 

Bilbo was no longer just a gentlehobbit of the Shire. He was a Chosen Child.

Chapter Text

With solemnity, Bilbo made his way through the tunnels. He’d left Smeagol’s body behind and he tried not to think of the goblins finding the poor corpse and turning it into a meal. No Hobbit deserved to be desecrated like that. Bilbo had laid rocks and such over the body as much as he could. Hopefully it would be enough to deter anything from feasting on Hobbit flesh.

Bilbo wandered, round corners and up inclines, down tight slopes and scrambled up shifting slate. He felt he would be stuck in this maze forever but all he knew was to keep pushing forward. He still left glowing lights in his wake. He hoped that his many backtracks and dead ends would confuse any goblin who decided to follow his path of plants.

He rounded a bend and suddenly felt his heart leap. Light. Not torch light or his blue plants but real sunlight. Bilbo couldn’t contain himself as he sprinted forward and burst into the sun. He could have wept in joy.

Though he wasn’t the same hobbit who had entered the mountain, he was still a hobbit and one never forgot the euphoria of the spring sun after a long winter’s moon. 

It was dazzling and blinding and Bilbo drank it in. He vowed never to take for granted a sunrise ever again. The feel of fresh air in his lungs and the wide open sky above him.

Bilbo had escaped the Misty Mountains and seemed to be on the right side of the mountain range. Beyond the tall cliff where he stood, he could see what was likely Mirkwood on the horizon and the Great River of the Underland cutting through the land.

He suddenly realized how very alone he was. Had the company made it out of the mountains alive. Were they trapped down in the deep? Surely not. If he, the least experienced and smallest of their group had made it out surely they had as well. 

Though his last memory of the Company was in the midst of battle with the goblins. He could only hope they were all okay.

Bilbo looked out over the land and knew he had to continue on. Hopefully fate would bring him and his friends back together along the road but for now it was time to carry on. 

Bilbo made his way down the treacherous side of the mountain from his cliff down into the trees below. He walked til the sun began to wane then he walked some more by the light of the moon. He felt exposed and terrified and all the courage he had in the tunnels seemed to have fled him. Walking on felt like suicide but stopping felt even more so. He wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself and continued on. 

He jumped at a sound in the distance. He froze and listened more closely, praying it was not goblins coming for him to finish him off. 

As he listened the sound became something familiar, the gravelly voices of dwarves. Bilbo felt his heart sing and he hurried in the direction of the voices. Soon, he could see firelight and shadows around a camp.

“Ahoy! Friends! Ahoy!” Bilbo’s eyes were wet as he saw his dwarves leap to their feet. They all looked whole and hail. When he raced into their midst, he was met with cheers and hugs and pats on the back. Gandalf gave him a particularly warm hug that made Bilbo have to sniffle and wipe at his eyes. Ori, Fili, and Kili hung off him like he was a litter mate come home to his puppy pile.

“Bilbo!”

“How on earth did you make it out of there on your own?”

“What happened?” 

They were all clamoring around him and the hobbit felt quite loved yet overwhelmed.

“Enough! Give the hobbit some air! Bombur, a bowl. Oin, check him over.” Thorin’s shout and orders were swiftly followed. Bilbo sent him a thankful look and found himself hustled onto a bedroll closest to the fire. His pack was taken off his shoulders and his weapons given to Bofur for sharpening. A steaming bowl of stew was placed in his lap and Oin puttered about him checking the large goose egg on the back of his head.

“This blood is not yours, laddie.” Oin said, holding out Bilbo’s arm.

Bilbo nodded and looked forlorn. Balin came and sat beside him. “Ye alright, Master Baggins?”

The hobbit looked at him, nodding instinctually. Then shook his head. “I… I took a life today. I’m not sure.”

Balin looked at him solemnly. “Aye. We all remember the first life we’ve taken, laddie. It is bitter. You will remember it for a long time to come.” There was a chorus of agreement around him. 

“I suppose.” Bilbo took a bite of his food and looked around at his dwarves. They all were worn around the edges but everyone still had their packs and beards so he guessed they were alright. “Enough about me. How did you all get out of the tunnels?”

The dwarves entertained him with a dramatic retelling of their daring escape in the way that dwarves do. Constantly talking over each other and correcting minor details. There was much jeering and laughter and Bilbo felt whole.

He had a great weight upon his shoulders and he wondered if he should talk to Gandalf about his revelations in the mountain. He decided he should but that was for another day. For now, he wanted to bask in his Company being together and safe. 

After a while, most of the Company laid down to rest. They had only set up camp shortly before Bilbo found them and they would need to be getting on far away from the mountain and any goblins who tried to track them. They would rise in a few hours before even dawn’s light and continue on. 

Bilbo could not sleep however. All he could hear in his ears was Smeagol’s dying cry and he could still feel the blood on his hands even after Oin had cleaned him up. He rose, wrapping his cloak around him and joined Thorin and Dwalin in their stoic watch. 

“You lads must get very used to sleep deprivation. Perhaps, it's why you're both so grumpy.” Bilbo joked. The two gave him grunts in reply though Bilbo thought he saw a shadow of a smile on both their lips. He sat and pulled out his pipe only to realize somewhere in the hullabaloo of the past few days in the mountain, it had been smashed.

He frowned at the intricate piece. It had been his father’s traveling pipe. He hoped he’d be able to mend it when their journey was over or if they came across a town with a woodworker. Though the pipe would never be the same. 

A black metal pipe came into his vision and Bilbo looked up to see Thorin passing him his pipe. Bilbo smiled and thanked him. He took a puff and coughed heartily, attempting to stifle it as to not wake the others. Dwalin chuckled deeply and Thorin pounded him on the back.

“My word! Your pipe weed is gritty compared to Old Toby. I think I’ve just had a lung wither and die!” Bilbo coughed again and handed Thorin’s pipe back. He walked over to his pack and pulled out his back up pipe and set about stuffing it. “Here, lads. Try some of the most smooth pipe weed you’ll ever have smoked.” 

The dwarves gave him offended looks but took it nonetheless. They each took a draw and held it in their throats. When they breathed out, they both noticeably had appraising looks on their faces. 

Dwalin harrumphed. “It’s good, that. But nothing beats the robust taste of dwarfish smoke.” Bilbo rolled his eyes. Dwarves and their pride. How could they even compare Old Toby to the swill they smoked?

The three sat in companionable silence. Their ears and eyes on a swivel for any sounds from the night. 

A long time later, they roused the company to start packing up. They needed to cover much ground today and hoped to reach the banks of the Great River before nightfall. Gandalf insisted he knew of a place they could rest and restore themselves before the long trek through Mirkwood. 

They started off in decent spirits, still high on their getaway from the goblins. Bilbo trotted along with the Ri brothers. He was quite exhausted and wished he’d been able to get some type of rest. But perhaps it would make his rest tonight after a refreshing bath in the river all the more rewarding. 

There would be no relaxing bath in the river for Bilbo though.

It was just past mid afternoon, when the sun was beginning to descend and they were close enough to the river to smell the damp on the breeze. They were at the edge of a patch of pines. They’d decided to stop to catch their breath and gulp down some much needed food and water. There came a great noise on the wind. A howl. Followed by several others. Bilbo felt his blood run cold. He was suddenly a small fauntling in his mother’s embrace listening to the horrid sounds of wolves running through Hobbiton in the Fell Winter, snapping up any hobbit foolish or desperate enough to be out of their holes. 

The Company shifted uneasily, weapons drawn. The howling grew louder and Thorin looked to Gandalf. “Wargs.”

“Indeed.” Gandalf looked around them. “Up, into the trees.”

“The trees?” The Company questioned but obeyed nonetheless. Bilbo thanked his time climbing with Gloin as he scaled the closest tree with relative ease. Ori had taken out his slingshot, Nori his throwing needles, Kili his bow and arrows. The rest of the Company hoped there would be only a few wargs and their long range fighters would be able to pick them off with ease. 

The Company had been on an outcropping that overlooked the land and river. Their backs were to the river and their fronts to the Wargs. The orcs and their mounts would have to funnel through one direction to reach them and they hoped that would be to their advantage not their detriment. 

Fili and Kili were up one tree. Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin and Gloin up another. Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, who Bilbo was surprised to have seen scaling the tree so quickly and efficiently with his large size, and Thorin were up another. Dwalin and Balin were in the final tree. They all waited on baited breath as the sounds of growling and snuffling came closer.

And there they came. Great ugly orcs on the backs of terrifying Wargs. Bilbo choked at the size of them. He would barely come to the shoulder of the Wargs. He’d be but a mouthful for them. He tried to shake the flashbacks to the Fell Winter from his head and drew his sword.

The wargs leapt and snapped at the lower branches. The orcs called taunts in their black language up at the dwarves. 

How were they going to get out of here? 

Suddenly, at his left ear, there was a burning pinecone. Bilbo looked up to see burning pinecones being passed to all the dwarves from Gandalf. They sent them down like blast bombs. The wargs yelped and gave them space.

Though he doubted Gandalf had thought ahead as the dry, dead pine needles on the forest floor took flame. They were now trapped above a sea of fire in trees that would collapse once their trunks were charred and drop them right into the waiting maws of wargs. There was a cliff to their back and while the fall wouldn’t be deadly, it wouldn’t leave them able to run away from the orcs on their heels. They were trapped. 

Some of the trees were already beginning to break and lean on one another, causing more to break. Thorin and the brothers Ri’s tree was only a mere few feet from the ground. They’d drawn their weapons and were slashing the noses of any wargs brave enough to tempt the fire. 

“How on earth did we go from goblins to orcs within a day's time?! This is madness!” Bilbo shrieked. The Company made sounds of agreement, all looking to each other for a bright idea to get out of this situation. Then gasps of shock rose from them as from the flames revealed the largest orc Bilbo had ever seen.

It was pale with a scared face, ugly and hulking. One of its hands was a hook and the other gripped a long gnarled mace. He called in the black language to the other orcs and they all cackled. His White Warg stomped its paws, its large claws gleaming in the light. 

Bilbo looks to Dori who is looking at Thorin with pity. “Who is that?”

Dori looks at the hobbit then back at the pale orc as he seems to order the wargs to start knocking the trees down with their body weight. The smell of burning fur fills the air as the wargs brave the flames. “Azog. He is the one who killed Thror and Thrain, Thorin’s grandfather and father.” Bilbo swallowed and threw a particularly hard pinecone in Azog’s direction. 

Suddenly, he heard the dwarves behind him crying out. He turned to see Thorin had stood on his fallen tree and was making his way through the flames towards the pale orc. His sword was drawn and his shield was in his hand. He had the look of a man ready to die for revenge, determined and uncaring of how awful the odds were against him.

Bilbo counted a dozen wargs within snapping distance of the dwarf, separated from him only by fire. Thorin laid low a few who grew impatient and brave. 

Bilbo couldn’t believe the foolish dwarf would sacrifice himself here before they’d even reached the mountain. What of Erebor and their quest to reclaim it? 

The hobbit shook his head and steadied himself. Yavanna had tasked him to destroy the Ring but he had promised to do all he could to see these dwarves home. He wouldn’t let this pale orc take that from them nor the King’s need for senseless vengeance. 

The little hobbit ignored the cries of protest that rose as he nimbly made his way down his tree. He heard Nori shout an insult at his head and Bilbo decided not to take offense. 

The wargs were all focused on Thorin so Bilbo was safe enough to crouch down and grow a few Stink Bombs. They were large mushrooms that grew in the Shire that hobbitlings would kick and they’d release a noxious stinky gas. It wouldn’t harm the wargs but hopefully it would daze them enough to buy them some time.  

Nori climbed down beside him and began picking up the bulbous things. Bilbo warned him to be careful or they’d explode and he’d smell of dung for the next week. 

Nori grinned, “Always surprising me, Bilbo.” The hobbit gave him an answering smile and the two of them dashed towards where Thorin and Azog had been trading barbed words. Thorin was on the ground, it seemed as if he was unconscious and Bilbo felt a cold spike of dread in his gut. 

Bilbo and Nori surprised the lot of them as they came running forward, tossing Stink Bombs into the faces of wargs and their riders. Azog gave a great roar as his wargs started to run, rubbing their noses in the dirt and snapping at one another when they stumbled into each other. He focused back on Thorin and screamed for the closest orc to drive his sword into the King’s neck. 

Bilbo, his mother’s sword in one hand and a Stink Bomb in the other, screamed a mighty war cry that caused the orc with its sword lifted over Thorin to pause. Bilbo slammed with all his body weight into the orc and sent it reeling. Nori was preoccupied fending off the other wargs and some of the company had made their way down into the fray to help. 

The small hobbit sliced his sword cleanly through the downed orc’s gut and stumbled back. He stood in front of Thorin’s collapsed body and held his sword high to the approaching White Warg. 

“Come no further!” His voice was shaky. What was he doing? He’d be eaten for sure. 

But again his mother’s sword, glinting in the firelight, reminded him to have courage. He straightened his shoulders. None of his company would die here.

“By the order of Yavanna, I will not fail. We will not fail!” The orc blinked and then laughed heartily. 

“What are you going to do, little hobbit? You are outnumbered and out of places to run. We will wipe the stink of Durin from this world tonight!” 

Bilbo smirked and in a fit of insanity felt mischievous. “No. You won’t.” He threw his Stink Bomb as hard as he could into the warg’s face, causing it to buck and shake and paw at its face. Azog yelled at his mount but it was of no use. 

The pale orc leapt down and advanced on Bilbo.

The Hobbit braced himself, hoping that would not be the last foolish thing he had ever done. 

Suddenly from above, there was a great screeching. Any of the wargs with their wits about them took off into the night. Great Eagles swooped down from the heavens, their talons open to scoop up orcs and drop them from great heights. Azog screamed for his men to rally but they all fled in fear. The company turned their attention to Azog as their other queries fled and the pale orc seemed to realize he was beaten this night. 

He looked at Bilbo, “You will rue this night, hobbit. You and your filthy dwarves!” Then the pale orc grabbed his still writhing warg and they rode off before the Eagles could capture them.

Bilbo had no time to celebrate as the Eagles picked each of the company up one by one and flew away into the night with them. The horror had hardly passed for the night as Bilbo was treated to great heights. Much higher up than anything he had climbed with Gloin. 

Bilbo felt sleep deprivation compound with the nauseating sight and he fainted in the Eagle’s claws.

Chapter Text

When Bilbo woke, he found himself in a ridiculously large soft bed covered in warm clean sheets. He blinked in confusion. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he had gotten here. Was he back in the Shire? Was him leaving just a strange and vivid dream?

Just then a large man, larger than any Bilbo had ever seen, walked into the room. Bilbo gave a start but the man quickly shushed him. He gave Bilbo a toothy grin and set down the tray he had in his hands.

“Ah, good to see you join the land of the living, little one.” Bilbo thought it best not to argue with the ‘little one’ comment as he indeed was very little compared to this stranger. “I am Beorn. Your wizard, Gandalf, brought you and your company to my door. They are lucky they had you with them or else I would have turned you away.” The man, Beorn, laid out a few breakfast scones for Bilbo that were as large as his head and a cup of tea in what appeared to be a thimble. This must be the man Gandalf had mentioned they could stay with before they entered Mirkwood

Bilbo thanked the man for the food and began to dig in. This was the first Hobbit sized meal that he’d had since Rivendell. “I thank you greatly for your hospitality. It’s not often one would take in a troop of worn travelers appearing from nowhere.” Unless you were an insane little hobbit with a conniving wizard for a friend. 

The tall man looked down at him with large coal colored eyes. “She has come to you. I can feel it in the air around you.”

Bilbo blinked in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“My mother has blessed you. You are one of us. My kin.” Bilbo coughed and sputtered on his scone, drinking some tea to wash it down. He looked up at Beorn with a great deal of incredulity. 

“Are you..?” Beorn laughed.

“We skin-changers are another of Yavanna’s favored, like Hobbits. We are few and far between, for with our powers come great risk and danger. The same with you, Chosen Child.” Bilbo blinked and looked down at his meal. He played with a crumb as he thought. 

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what to say. I’ve-” Bilbo’s mind’s eye played the film of his fight with Smeagol and Yavanna’s words to him. “I’m just coming to grips with what I am myself. Do you know anything about Chosen Children? About me? Something that might help me?” Bilbo turned large eyes on the man. Beorn gave him a sympathetic smile and sat down on the edge of the large bed.

“I can tell you of others of your kind I have met. If that might help?” Bilbo nodded. “But first, your company has been quite up in arms about your condition. I believe they would like to see you now that you’re awake. We may talk later.” The hobbit smiled and nodded again.

A few minutes later, he was surrounded by hustling and bustling dwarves who were worse than mother hens. Oin was poking and prodding him every which way and Dori was fluffing his pillows and Ori, Fili, and Kili had crawled onto his bed. The three seemed to intend to set up camp there since the elder dwarves had not let them come bother their hobbit while he was recovering. 

Bilbo felt highly loved. He was lectured by Oin to stay in bed for a day longer to make sure his head injury had fully healed, though Bilbo planned to heal it himself once he had a moment alone. Fili, Kili, and Ori had produced a deck of cards and sat through his healer imposed quarantine with him. They played many games Bilbo already knew and a few dwarfish ones he had never heard of. 

Every dwarf, even Thorin and Dwalin, came in to check on him at some point during the day. Even if Thorin had only come to make sure the boys weren’t getting into mischief. He promised Bilbo he only needed to say the word and Thorin would drag the boys out by their ears. The hobbit laughed and waved him off.

By the next morning, Bilbo was feeling whole and hail and Oin had given him leave to move around. The hobbit went about exploring the large home. He was surprised to find the house was filled with large, lanky gray dogs nearly twice the size of Bilbo. They snuffled him and Bilbo laughed as their wet noses pressed all over him. 

“My word!” Bilbo gasped as he saw a few of them on their hind feet, cleaning the house with rags and brooms. 

One of the dogs with a large patch of black on its chest and bright silver eyes spoke to him and Bilbo was surprised he could understand them. “Our Master hasn’t had kin in these halls in some time. You smell like mud and grass. Are you a skin-changer as well?” Bilbo was absolutely floored. Had his powers progressed to the point where he could have full conversations with animals? 

“I- Well, I am not a skin-changer. Though, Master Beorn did say I was kin to him.” The greyhound nodded and snuffled Bilbo again. 

“Peaky, at your service. Head hound of the household.” The hound bowed its large head down to his forepaws.

Bilbo blinked then bowed in return, “Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” The hobbit felt right strange bowing to a dog but then again there’d never been a dog that could bow back to him. “Say, Peaky, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could bathe? You’re right when you say I smell and I’d like to remedy that.” The greyhound nodded and Bilbo followed him to a large supply room. He was given some washing things and then led outside. 

Bilbo was shocked by the beauty of Beorn’s home. Meadows stretched far into the distance with great bees the size of his hand buzzing about, pollinating and the like. There were flowers taller than him and with great petals reaching up to the sky. 

To his right, he could see a smattering of dwarves who seemed to be lazing about in the late morning sun. To his left, more dwarves were tallying rations and talking with Beorn about their supplies. He gave them a wave as he walked past and shouts of ‘Good to see you up and about’ came from all sides. 

He waved Fili and Kili off when they made to come with him. The clingy faunts they were, he still would prefer a lone bath now that he had the chance to use some real soap instead of a water wash hastily done when they made camp by a stream. 

Peaky led him to a stream and Bilbo was almost disappointed till they kept going and came upon a large structure built like a stable. Within was a large basin of water over a fire and a massive metal tub large enough for Beorn to have soaked fully in. Bilbo was delighted as Peaky showed him a masterfully done set up to allow the water to flow from the basin into the tub then the basin of cold water to help bring the boiling hot water down to a bearable temperature. Peaky laid down in the corner and seemed to be rather stubborn on the subject of staying when Bilbo insisted he need not. 

“Master Baggins, you are an honored guest here. It wouldn’t be right of me to leave you out here alone with no protection.” Bilbo sighed and acquiesced a little peeved he wasn’t going to get to have a proper lonesome bath but resigned enough that at least it was only a dog, albeit a clever dog. 

Later found Bilbo refreshed and in better spirits than he’d been in in a long time. The company was enjoying some time to recover and Beorn and his animals were fine hosts. The journey seemed to have finally reached another semblance of peace as in Rivendell. 

They all sat down for dinner and Beorn entertained them with light stories of the animals; a new colt with a wobbly gallop, a particularly naughty set of pups just past whelping who still clung to their mother, a disagreement between a badger and a hedgehog over whose den was the deepest and most cozy. 

Bilbo laughed the whole night long, feeling very at home. He thought to himself that he could feel Yavanna in the air, her grace and the lush feeling of life. He hoped he would find time to talk to Beorn in private soon as he did feel a sense of kinship with the nature loving man. He’d love to know more about the others like him and how Beorn himself came to be so well attuned to nature. 

As the night drew down and the fire was stoked, conversation turned to less pleasant matters. Beorn told of how bold the goblins had become in coming onto his lands at night. The fear of the large bear man was seemingly not enough to keep them away when they were bolstered by such large numbers. The company shifted uneasily, wondering why there were so many more goblins so close to their mountain and if it would become a problem when - if - they retook the mountain. 

The skinchanger spoke of the great illness and darkness that seemed to seep from Mirkwood. Thorin and the dwarves who had been alive to see Erebor were shocked as, though they weren’t on the best of terms with the Greenwood Elves, they remembered the forest being a place of light and an easy route to travel should you need to. 

Gandalf seemed particularly troubled as Beorn began talking of the dangers of Mirkwood, the great dark creatures within and the absence of the Elves' cleansing rituals or soldiers sent to clear away the beasts. It seemed that the Mirkwood Elves had simply boarded their doors and would remain in their fortress till the danger had passed. Like they had given up on their own forest. 

Bilbo couldn’t imagine letting one’s garden fall to rot while he stayed inside his home. He knew it wasn’t quite the same thing but still. It seemed horrid of the Elves to just let the forest die around them. Bilbo thought to himself that he had a right mind to tell the Elves to grab their gardening gloves and sheers and get to work. Or maybe that was the little bit of potent blackberry cordial he had consumed? Who was to know. 

As the night went on and dwarves began to break off to go to their beds, Beorn, Bilbo, Gandalf, and Thorin were the only ones left. The fire burned low and cast intimidating shadows across the room. Bilbo made to leave for his bed as well but Gandalf’s staff impeded his way.

“Gandalf?”

“Bilbo, I believe it is time we spoke to the leader of our Company of exactly why I chose you to join us on this journey.” The hobbit felt his heartbeat pick up pace. It wasn’t that he had anything against Thorin knowing specifically. But would the Company at large treat him differently? Would they expect more from him than he could give? He had yet to talk to Gandalf about his revelations in the tunnels, of Yavanna’s message, or to Beorn who had more information on the other Chosen Children.

Thorin gave them both a suspicious, long stare. “What do you mean, wizard?”

Bilbo ignored him in favor of giving Gandalf a beseeching look. “Gandalf, I hardly know what to do with the information myself, and there’s more I’ve yet to tell you. We must speak in private about this first.” Gandalf was unwavering however.

“I insist, Bilbo. Your abilities may be needed if the forest of Mirkwood is indeed as tainted as they say. I will not be able to accompany you. I have business to tend to that cannot be put aside. I traveled much further with your company than I had ever planned to. It is time to do away with the secrecy and to utilize your abilities for the sake of the quest.” Bilbo felt trapped in the wizard’s gaze and could feel Thorin’s eyes boring into the side of his head. He shook his head but Gandalf spoke again. “You must, Bilbo.”

The hobbit slumped back onto his seat and nodded, avoiding Thorin’s gaze to the best of his ability and making a ‘continue’ motion with his hand. Gandalf did the thing he is quite well at doing where he rolls his eyes without rolling them. “Imagine me to find the only hobbit not keen to brag and gossip.” Bilbo harrumphed and Beorn’s large smile caught his attention.

The large man had remained silent. Bilbo felt comforted that he had another being in the room who knew what it was like to have this strange connection to nature, to be unordinary. Beorn reached over and patted him on his head in a quite demeaning yet somehow comforting manner. “Don’t worry, little one. If your dwarves take it any other way than gracefully, you may stay in my hall with me and help raise my animals. Away from dangerous journeys and grumpy dwaro.” 

Bilbo smiled. That actually sounded nice. To stay here among the meadows and bright sunshine with a large bearman to protect him and Peaky and the other greyhounds to conversate with. Maybe he’d learn to speak with the horses and the bees as well. Become a true hermit with a garden grand enough to write tales of. 

“You will not be taking our hobbit, Master Beorn.” Thorin said in his normal gruff way. His eyes slid to Bilbo again and the hobbit made the mistake of meeting his gaze. “No matter the secrets he may be keeping.” Bilbo looked away.

“Indeed.” Gandalf lit his pipe, taking a deep inhale before continuing. “Thorin, what you hear may sound fantastical but it is true.” The wizard looked to Bilbo. “I will not tell your tale, Bilbo. That is for you to do.” The hobbit glared but in a battle of wills, he knew the wizard would always win. 

Bilbo sighed and took to tracing the whirls in the wooden table as he gathered his thoughts. Where to start, he thought. 

And of course, the wizard answered, “The beginning is usually best.” 

With a resigned sigh, the hobbit began, “I was always different growing up in the Shire. My mother, Belladonna, she was a Took, the Tookest of Tooks. So my people assumed that was why I was so strange. The Tooks being the most adventurous and odd family of the Shire even while being related to many Thanes and of great importance in the Shire. But the thing was as I got older, my oddities grew. Having a particular fondness for animals, and they of me, grew to be the ability to talk to them, to know them. I began to be able to grow things with a thought. To know my garden’s wants like a want of my own.” Thorin was quiet and Bilbo wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. “But after I’ve joined this journey, my powers… They’ve grown, almost exponentially. What I could only do few and far between and at great cost to my energy, I can now do with nary a thought, with frequency and hardly a bead of sweat.”

“The day the company arrived at my door, Gandalf had informed me that I was a being called a Chosen Child. Imagine me! Bilbo Baggins! Some great being of power blessed by the Valar. I hardly, well no, I didn’t believe it. But throughout our journey, I have come to know it to be true. I can now heal myself. Possibly others, like the other Chosen Children could. I feel a distinct shift in my being. Like something has clicked into place. Like I may be finally on the correct track.”

He licked his lips and looked to Gandalf. “I was visited by Lady Yavanna in the tunnels.” The wizard’s eyes widened. “She gave me this certainty. She was beautiful and kind and I could only know her to speak the truth. She also gave me tasks. Tasks that go beyond the scope of our quest. But, part of my tasks,” Bilbo looked to Thorin. “I don’t believe the Company will be fond of.”

The dwarf was silent for a moment. He met Bilbo’s eyes and the hobbit was surprised to see only curiosity, no skepticism or anger. The dwarf withdrew his own pipe and lit it before saying, “Master Baggins, though I wish we had been informed of this sooner, for the sake of the Company, I am gladdened to know this now. That perhaps the Valar look favorably on our quest is a knowledge that takes a great weight off my shoulders.” He blew out a ring of smoke. “It does make a few things make sense. A few inconsistencies and oddities we dwarves had noticed. Your propensity to find herbs that should not grow close to where we are camping for Oin, to find berries and vegetables like a boar seeking out truffles,” Bilbo snorted. “And for your fast healing of your ankle from our encounter with trolls. You see Oin pointed out to me that your ankle had healed remarkably fast, but the bruising on your back and your other cuts had healed at a normal pace. We wondered why that was. We thought maybe it was that Hobbits’ ankles are more sturdy than dwaro like your padded feet. But it seems that is not the case.”

Bilbo blushed, he had thought he’d been more conspicuous than all that. “I’m sorry for the deception, Master Thorin. I could hardly believe it myself and it never seemed the time to tell the Company. I wasn’t attempting to be malicious in my secrecy. I just…” The hobbit looked at his hands. “I’m still not sure how a small hobbit can be destined to play such a large role. To have powers like these and to have a great task in which to use them for.”

“And what are these tasks, dear Bilbo?” Gandalf asked. The hobbit looked to him then to Thorin. He swallowed. He knew he had to be transparent if he wanted to stop the secrecy but how much was he allowed to tell? Was he allowed to tell?

Suddenly, Beorn’s large hand patted Bilbo’s head and the hobbit looked up at him. “Our mother would not want nor expect you to do this alone. She is benevolent and kind. And she would not put these dwarves in your path if you could not trust them.” Bilbo smiled a small smile and nodded.

He gathered his courage. “In the tunnels, I met a beast who was once a Hobbit. He called himself Gollum. He had been driven mad by something dark and ancient and evil.” Bilbo pulled the sachet Yavanna had given him from his pocket. “In this pouch is that great evil. I had picked it up unknowingly and when Gollum came to attack me for it, I had a vision. I was visited by Yavanna, she is working secretly. Attempting to stop a great war and a great darkness from befalling Middle Earth. She could only tell me so much. She told me to spare Gollum, who was actually Smeagol. I was…” Bilbo felt his throat clog. “I was told to end his life so he may know peace.”

Bilbo feared Thorin’s reaction to this next task. He looked at the dwarf. “Then, I was told that I must have mercy on Smaug.” The dwarf’s eyes indeed flared with anger and he stood abruptly.

“She asks us to have mercy on the worm?”

Bilbo flinched at the spat, venomous words and nodded. “She does.”

“Never! He had no mercy on my people when he slaughtered us for our mountain and our treasure!” Thorin’s voice was thin and low, like a dagger to the stomach. 

“She said that he was corrupted too! Like Smeagol! Not by the One Ring but by the dark forces of the Second Age!” Bilbo didn’t realize he hadn’t said what the item in the bag was till all eyes snapped to it. Gandalf had reeled away from the table as if burned. Beorn growled low in his chest. But Thorin, Thorin’s eyes were hungry. 

“The One Ring?” The dwarf’s voice was now honeyed and thick. He stepped closer to the table as if drawn to the sachet, his eyes unwavering on its green surface. Bilbo snatched the parcel from the table and put it into his pocket, breaking its hold on the room. 

The hobbit frowned and stood, gesturing at Thorin’s blinking form. “See! It corrupts and seduces! We must have mercy on those turned evil by its aura and reaching hand! Yavanna says Smaug is just an animal! Like any other. Born to this world with just as much right to live and survive as the rest of us! But the ring has turned a dragon’s need for a home with glittering things for its underbelly to an intense desire to ravage and hoard and destroy! We must have empathy.” Bilbo’s chest heaved from his outburst and the three pairs of eyes on him were respectful and astonished in equal parts. “We must have mercy.” 

Thorin had seemed to find himself again and he turned away from the adamant hobbit. “I-” He cleared his cracking throat. “I will have no part in sparing that vile worm. Valar be damned, should I have the chance, Smaug will die.”

With that, Thorin stomped from the room. The three left heard the heavy front door slam behind the dwarf and silence fell. Bilbo slumped back into his seat and put his head in his hands. Gandalf reached over and placed a comforting hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. 

“It is not so easy to forget years of vengeance sworn to an enemy. When the time comes, we will find a way to keep Smaug from meeting the end of Thorin’s blade.” The old man huffed. “Though, I’m not sure how. But that is the way of the tasks we receive from the Valar. We can only trust them to be possible.” 

Beorn took a loud gulp of his ale and their attention was drawn to him. The large man wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and smiled. “I do not envy you your task, Bilbo Baggins. But you have given me new purpose tonight.” Bilbo’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Long ago, my mother told me of a vision from Yavanna. A vision passed down from skinchanger to skinchanger. That one day a Chosen Child would rise in the ashes of dragon’s fire to restore the world from the clutches of Lord Morgrath’s fingers. My people have followed the dragons wherever they go since the First Age. Though they were created by Morgrath for his wicked purposes, in times of peace they become just animals, like any other. They raise families and are intelligent. They have clans and hunt to eat and only to eat. But when the dark forces stir once more, their behavior changes, returning to beasts with intent to rain flame upon the land. Hence why when Smaug attacked Erebor, I followed and stayed in this area, before Greenwood turned Mirkwood. To be close at hand and on the lookout for this Chosen Child. For I knew if a dragon had begun harming the innocent of Middle Earth, it meant there were dark clouds on the horizon.” Beorn stood and walked to his mantle. His hulking shape was silhouetted in the fire light. “It means that there will be much death and destruction before your tasks are complete, Bilbo Baggins.” With that Beorn also left, most likely to walk his borders and check his animals, leaving only Gandalf and Bilbo.

The hobbit swallowed and looked at the wizard. “Gandalf?”

Gandalf was silent for a long moment, the smoke from his pipe trailing up into his bushy eyebrows and into the air. He looked at Bilbo and gave him a sad smile. “I must say the revelations of tonight are more than I had expected. The ring…” Gandalf swirled his glass of mulberry wine and in a fast movement drank it in one go. “I fear that your journey will indeed be filled with death, my dear Bilbo. I just hope it is not your own. I must go tomorrow. My business I was speaking of earlier concerns the One Ring.” Bilbo gave him a concerned look. “A being called the Necromancer has been stirring in the southern region of Mirkwoord, in Dol Guldur. An ancient fortress. I believe this is why the orcs and goblins are stirring and multiplying. I received word from my kin, the other wizards of the Order of Istari, in Rivendell of dark tidings. They too received visions from the Valar. We believe that the Necromancer is the most recent incarnation of Sauron.” 

Bilbo felt the blood drain from his face. “No!” 

“Yes, I’m afraid.” Gandalf nodded his head in thanks to Peaky who had come to fill his and Bilbo’s glasses. Bilbo’s stomach sank and he looked at the greyhound.

“Leave the bottle, Peaky, please, I fear I need the courage.” The greyhound nodded and gave Bilbo an affectionate lick on the hand. The dog settled at Bilbo’s feet and the hobbit felt a distinct love and kinship for the dog. He would be sad to leave him behind. 

Gandalf sipped his glass again, “There will be much in the days to come to be afraid of, Bilbo, you must have-”

“Courage? Yes… I know.” Bilbo frowned. “You will be safe? Facing the.. The Dark Lord?” Gandalf smiled fondly at him and nodded. “Good, good. I will carry the Ring and after we retake Erebor, Yavanna has tasked me with taking the Ring to Mordor.” Gandalf nodded again. “I hope, together, we will prevent whatever it is the Valar fear.” 

“Bilbo, I have come to realize that it is the smallest of beings who become the greatest of heroes.” He laid a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Have faith. Know the Valar stand behind you in this fight.”

Bilbo felt a strange waring in his body then a settling in his heart. He could do this. And if he didn’t then the world would fall.

“By the order of Yavanna, I will not fail.” Together, he and Gandalf toasted. They drank late into the night and talked of happier times. Times when the future did not seem so dark and the world not so daunting. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, Bilbo woke with a ringing headache. He pushed through with an unsympathetic Oin shaking his head at him the whole way as they all gathered the supplies Beorn had been so gracious as to give them. They were each given a pony that would take them to the edge of Mirkwood and return back to Beorn. 

Thorin had not even looked in Bilbo’s direction the entire morning. Nori had slunk over to Bilbo to discreetly tell him he had heard their conversation the night before. To which Bilbo gave him a disapproving glare and Nori gave him a shrug. The wonderful dwarf he was, Nori had gathered the dwarves in the early morning and told them of Bilbo’s oddity. Not in specifics mind you, but that they may see their hobbit performing some strange feats in the forest and to know that it was all for their betterment. 

When Thorin had not come in to tell the company himself, Nori had decided that a little unveiling would ease Bilbo’s worry and allow the hobbit to reveal himself in his own time. After all, the rest of the Company need not have all the dramatic revelations of the night before, only that their hobbit was a special hobbit. Bilbo couldn’t help but be overwhelmingly grateful to Nori and his companionship and understanding on this journey so far. 

It did explain the curious gazes he had been receiving from the dwarves all morning that Bilbo had thought due to his hungover bedraggled state and felt very self conscious about. 

Gandalf was preparing his horse separately as he would be riding in a different direction, south, to the Dol Guldur. 

Beorn seemed melancholic to see the Company go, or at least Bilbo.

“We will meet again, my friend.” Bilbo said to him as they were all about to depart. The bear man looked down at him fondly and nodded. 

“As sure as the stars, little one. But for now, I will travel with Gandalf to this fortress and do my best to help wherever I can. But, I do have a request of you to put my worries at ease.” Beorn smirked as he knelt down in front of the small hobbit. 

“Oh?” 

“Indeed, please, take care of Peaky.” Bilbo became quite confused till a mass of grey fur and lanky limbs bumped into him from behind, a massive tongue licking the side of his face. Bilbo laughed and he realized what Beorn intended. 

“Certainly I can’t take your head hound with me! The road is dangerous and I fear what might happen!” Bilbo scratched Peaky under the chin and the dog yipped at him. 

“I’m quite able to take care of myself, thank you, Master Baggins. You may need a trusty hound on your journey.” Bilbo laughed and looked to Beorn.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Peaky is a strong hound and he will protect you. Til I am there to protect you myself.” Bilbo blushed and nodded. He and Peaky walked to his pony and Beorn lifted the hobbit up. 

“Thank you, Beorn. I will see you again.”

With that, they were off, Peaky trotting right alongside Bilbo. Beorn’s final warning to fill their waterskins to the brim before they enter Mirkwood rang in their ears. Apparently the stream that ran through Mirkwood was cursed and was not to be touched. 

The dwarves greeted Peaky with amusement and joked that of course their hobbit would be the one to gain a pet on the journey. Bilbo took their jeering in good fun and they were off.

They rode on for a few days’ time at a steady pace, til Mirkwood was a mere hour's walk away. They let their ponies ride back to Beorn and set up their camp. There was a restless energy that had been building and Bilbo dreaded it. 

He knew the tension was because of him. After the third time he had been caught in deep conversation with Peaky, Bilbo realized that perhaps the company would need more than Nori’s warning. Their eyes were weary on him, looking between him and the dog. Oin had become a mother hen again and was checking and rechecking his head wound, asking Bilbo if he was hearing any voices or seeing anything strange. 

He’d decided that tonight would be the night he would address the company. Thorin had still not broken the silence they’d maintained since the night around the table at Beorn’s. Bilbo hoped that their friendship had not been irreparably damaged by Bilbo’s duty to Yavanna. He was just as loyal to this quest and these dwarves as he was to Yavanna and he hoped he could make them understand that.

When they’d all gathered around the fire and dinner had been dished out and eaten, Bilbo stood. He received many looks of confusion and interest as he called for everyone’s attention. He suddenly wished that Gandalf was with them so he would have someone to accredit his story. But he would just have to rely on the company’s trust in him. 

He took courage from Nori’s encouraging gaze and when the dwarf moved to sit beside him and idly play with his knives in the firelight, Bilbo felt a sudden burst of humor. Nori wouldn’t let anything happen to him and the other dwarves were just as much his friends as Nori. Peaky had also come to sit next to Bilbo and tried to look intimidating. It worked quite well actually and Bilbo felt bolstered by the love and support of his friends. 

Ori, Fili, and Kili sat in rapt attention as he told tales of his childhood and Gandalf’s revelations at his breakfast table. Ori had his journal out and was scribbling furiously. Thorin had remained silent in the back, Dwalin and Balin at his side who gave the dwarf king looks when the dwarf did not react to Bilbo’s confessions. The hobbit tried to include every detail he could about how he had been learning and practicing on their journey. He thanked Nori for his help along the way to which Dori harrumphed that Bilbo could have told him over his sneaky brother. 

Bilbo laughed and nodded for he knew now he could’ve. The dwarves were being perfectly accepting and open minded. Bofur was translating everything in sign language to Bifur and Bombur had an astonished expression on his face, looking down at his pack which was likely filled with things Bilbo had secretly grown for him with his strange hobbit powers. 

The hobbit told them of his vision from Yavanna, leaving out the specific tasks she had given him. He did not want a repeat of Thorin’s reaction to Bilbo’s mission to spare Smaug. At least not til he had a chance to speak to Thorin and maybe come to a compromise. If that was even possible. 

Gloin was laughing at Oin who was distinctly disgruntled that Bilbo had not informed him of his healing abilities as they would have been very useful on their journey. Bilbo felt chastened and he promised Oin he would show him how he healed and that maybe the dwarf could teach him a little anatomy so he could practice and become better with his skills. 

By the end of the telling, Bilbo felt a great sense of relief, despite the shifting butterflies in his stomach as the entire company asked him questions and he was poked and prodded by Fili and Kili to ‘perform his hobbity witchery’. He grew a few plants to show the company what he had said was true and not some fantastical tale. They all seemed shocked as their little hobbit’s hands glew and Fili pointed out that the hobbit’s eyes had glew green as well. Bilbo was surprised. He didn’t know if they had always done that or if that was a new development. No one had ever pointed it out to him before and he’d never watched himself performing magic. 

As the night wound down, the company seemed satisfied with their questions. Actually the mood of the entire camp seemed boosted by the idea that Lady Yavanna was on their side and had sent them a special hobbit, a Chosen Child, on their journey. They took it as a sign from the Valar that they could not fail. Bilbo tried to remind them that he was just a small hobbit with hardly any idea how to use his abilities and that growing plants and talking to animals could only take one so far but they were cottoneared to his protests. Bilbo gave up and scuttled to the outer edge of their camp with Nori to avoid the questions. 

Everyone else but Gloin, who was on watch, had fallen asleep and Bilbo was still wide awake. He couldn’t believe how easily everything had gone. Within a week, he had gone from hiding in the shadows growing herbs to the company asking him to grow them special plants from their mountain homes just to test his skills. 

For lack of anything else to do in the wee hours of the night, he and Peaky went together to fill more waterskins for their journey into the wood tomorrow. There was a stream not too far from camp and Peaky was happy to have a pack put on him to help carry it all. The brilliant dog even carried an extra torch in his mouth so Bilbo and he had plenty of light. It helped chase away the chill of the night and the foreboding shadows of the moonless night. 

They’d just made it to the stream when they heard footsteps behind them. Peaky growled and Bilbo reached for his sword but Balin’s face was the one who came into the light. Bilbo relaxed and greeted the elder dwarf.

“Evening, laddie. I wanted to speak with you if you’ll indulge me.” Bilbo nodded and waved for Peaky to take the filled waterskins to the camp and Bilbo would do the rest. Balin sat next down on a rock on the edge of the stream and withdrew his pipe. The dwarf gestured for Bilbo to join him as Peaky’s light disappeared back to the campfire. 

The hobbit sat, feeling a bit weary about what the dwarf could want to say to him after the revelations of the night. Dwalin and Balin were the only two who hadn’t given their opinions or asked questions. They had just stayed in the back with Thorin, quiet and conversing among themselves.

“What can I do for you, Master Balin?”

“Call me Balin, dear boy. I think we’ve been on this journey long enough together to avoid pleasantries when we’re alone.” Bilbo nodded and insisted Balin do the same. “Well you see, Bilbo, I’ve heard of people like you. The Chosen Children. I know you are meant to do great things and that the tasks you have been given by our maker’s wife are set in stone. You must follow the path she has set for you.” Bilbo realized Thorin must have told Dwalin and Balin of what he had left out of his announcement to the company at large. Balin took a deep inhale of his pipe weed. “However, I fear what will now happen when we arrive at the mountain.”

Bilbo nodded. “I can understand that, Mas- Balin. But I hope you trust that I don’t intend to do anything different than I always have. To help you dwarves get your home back.”

“Aye, I believe you, laddie. But how will you do that without killing the beast Smaug? If Yavanna says you must have mercy on him then that means he is alive. It means that we indeed are traveling to come face to face with a dragon. I had maintained hope, however faint, that we would arrive and the dragon would have perished, rotting in the halls with my kin.” Balin’s face grew dark and anguished. “I won’t lie to you, laddie. Though I know it would be a fool’s errand, I would rather the dragon be dead than allowed to live on with the blood of my family and friends crusted in its teeth and claws.”

The hobbit shuddered at the statement and fumbled for his pipe as well. He could only imagine the intense internal battle Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin were feeling. Knowing that at the end of this journey, there would be no vengeance or vindication in the form of the blood the dwarves so craved and felt they deserved. Bilbo took a bracing inhale of his pipe. 

“If I’m honest, I’ve no idea how I’m to tame Smaug and end this peaceably with you rightfully restored in your mountain.”

“I’d feared that. You understand that it is hard for us to place faith that this will end with our journey being a success if the dragon is to survive.”

“I understand, Balin. I do.” Bilbo trailed off and they sat in uncomfortable silence for a long moment. 

Then Balin cleared his throat. “Well, who am I to question the Valar. If Yavanna has chosen you to do this, then we must have faith. Perhaps you are more your mother’s son than you had ever thought, Bilbo.” Balin clapped Bilbo on the shoulder and the hobbit smiled softly, remembering that night in his mother’s study. He withdrew his mother’s sword and looked at the runes in the torchlight. 

“Can you show me how to say these, Balin?” The dwarf gave him a peculiar look and seemed to hesitate. 

“You know it is not done. But seeing as though you have learned our sign language and you have journeyed as a dwarf with us…” Balin took the blade from Bilbo’s hands and gestured to the runes meant to say ‘courage’. “Ometz, courage.” He flipped it over. “Rachamim, mercy.” 

Bilbo felt honored and attempted to repeat but by Balin’s laughter he guessed he hadn’t done it well. “You’ll get there, laddie.” He slapped his knees and stood. “Well, we best be getting to bed. Nothing we can do about Smaug for now. We will tackle that barrier when we come to it.”

“Goodnight, Balin. Thank you. For your understanding.” The white haired dwarf smiled and nodded.

“Goodnight, Bilbo.”

Bilbo sat for a while yet, contemplating his mother’s sword and his place in the world and a great many things that one contemplates when they’re not sure what to do or think. The hobbit sheathed his sword and stared into the water of the stream. 

At the end of this journey he was to face a dragon. A dragon who had slaughtered thousands. And he was to make sure this dragon didn’t die at his company’s hands and they did not die at the dragon’s claws. He felt overwhelmed with fear. He knew not an inkling of how he would accomplish this. It seemed an impossible task. 

The hobbit looked up at the moonless sky and imagined he could see Yavanna’s freckled cheeks in the dots of the stars. 

“What am I to do, my lady? I’m still but a small hobbit.” 

No answer came and eventually Bilbo finished filling the water skins and headed back to camp to try for a few hours of sleep before they tackled the next leg of their adventure. 

Mirkwood.

Chapter Text

The morning dawned, foggy and quiet. The dwarves still seemed in good spirits that their journey had been blessed by Yavanna and it seemed that they were ready to tackle anything. 

Camp was packed and the company set off. The hour’s walk to the border of Mirkwood seemed to pass in the blink of an eye and suddenly Bilbo was staring up at the looming trees and yawning boughs with a sense of deep unsettlement.

As they drew closer, the birds seemed to call warnings to one another, Bilbo tried to listen but their frantic twittering was like ghost voices on the wind. There was no other wildlife around and, considering they were about to enter a forest, that set Bilbo on edge. The trunks of the trees seemed gnarled and massive with thick ivy climbing up it. 

Bilbo felt a churning in his gut. The forest was sick. Deeply sick. 

Beorn had said so himself and yet feeling it now Bilbo thought he might wretch. It was like the normal hum of healthy plantlife and soil was overshadowed by a staccato screeching. The plants were crying out in pain or silent all together, dead. The soil begged for sunlight and fresh air and clean water.

Bilbo could move no closer when the company got within spitting distance of the forest edge. He shook all over and his ears were ringing with the sound of the suffering forest. Nori came up alongside him and Peaky nudged at his hand but he didn’t respond. His eyes were trained solely on the forest ahead, his vision narrowed to the entrance to the forest path and the darkness beyond. 

The company realized there was something wrong with their hobbit and as soon as there were bodies between him and the forest, Bilbo’s trance was broken. He gasped a great lung full of air and Peaky held him steady. The hobbit was embarrassed to realize there were tears running down his cheeks. He looked in desperation between the faces of his companions.

“The forest,” He whimpered. “It’s so sick. So sick.” The dwarves were confused but tried to soothe their hobbit. Thorin pushed his way to the front and Bilbo was highly surprised when the dwarf grabbed his shoulders. The dwarf’s bright blue eyes bore into Bilbo’s and then the dwarf King was forcibly turning Bilbo and pushing him back the way they’d come.

The dwarf king waved off the company’s confusion and called to give their hobbit room to breathe. Though of course the king could do nothing to stop Peaky from trotting along next to them. They went several paces and as Bilbo got further away, he felt the roiling in his stomach recede. 

Thorin stopped them and looked at Bilbo who still seemed dazed. “Gandalf. He warned me you may react like this to the forest. He said you would know what to do if your mind was cleared.” The dwarf’s gruff voice broke Bilbo from his stupor and the hobbit shook himself. 

“That I would know what to do? I hardly even know what that was!” The hobbit rubbed his hands over his face and cleared the tears away. “That forest, I could feel its sickness. Like a wound to my own body.”

Thorin hummed. 

Bilbo looked at the dwarf after he’d gathered his wits and wiped the cold sweat from his brow. “Thank you, Master Thorin. I’m pleased to see despite our rift, you don’t wish me ill will.” The dwarf snorted. “Gandalf gave you no advice on how I’m to deal with the forest’s effect on me?”

“He said only that you would know if you were clear headed.” Bilbo huffed and muttered about cryptic wizards. He patted Peaky’s head and looked back at the group, careful to not focus on the forest beyond. 

“Well, I’ve no idea. If that’s my reaction to coming close to the forest, I don’t see how I’ll be able to travel through it.” Bilbo frowned and looked at the dwarf king. He was glad the dwarf could put aside their differences for the sake of their quest. At least for now till they reached the mountain. The dwarf rubbed his short beard.

“When miners with strong stone sense enter unstable mines, they have a similar reaction. The only way they can enter the mine is if they are able to stabilize it.” 

Bilbo frowned. Nori had compared his relationship to nature as very similar to a dwarf’s stone sense. Bilbo had always thought his ability was just an extra well tuned soil sense. So perhaps he just needed to approach it like it was a hurting garden? 

Though he very well couldn’t just start tilling and watering an entire forest. They had ground to cover and needed to get through the forest at speed. The hobbit put his hand under his chin and began to think. If it was an ailing garden and not an entire forest, what would he do? He’d pull the weeds, burn out the dead rot, till the soil to air out the top soil, he’d water it in the places it needed and lay fertilizer. How did that help him here?

An idea burst into his head that was so ridiculous, he thought it might work. Either that or this would be the end of Bilbo’s journey.

“Master Thorin, I have an idea. You said when a miner needs to enter an unstable mine, he must stabilize it, correct?” The dwarf nodded. “I need to enter an ailing forest! So I must stop it from affecting me so. And in doing so, begin to heal it!”

“Master Baggins, you cannot possibly heal an entire forest.” Bilbo thought he’d leave off that he possibly could but he’d fall into a forever sleep just like Elyanna. 

“No, Master Thorin, but in the Shire, we have plants that we use to heal diseased soil and keep diseased plants from spreading. Sometimes we must surround entire fields with these plants to keep rot away in hard times.” Bilbo was growing excited, he knew his powers had strengthened enough that while it would be taxing, the plan he had in mind would be sustainable. 

And that is how, thirteen dwarves and a hobbit began traveling through Mirkwood with man-sized sunflowers trailing either side of their path. 

Yes, sunflowers. Bilbo had explained his plan to a confused company that sunflowers were the hardiest of plants. They helped clean the soil and could withstand times of drought. And while they would wilt without sun in about a week or so, they would possibly be able to help begin clearing Mirkwood of its Mirk. Bilbo didn’t know for sure what ailed the forest, whether it was rot or dark magic or disease or some combination of them. But he knew he’d seen sunflowers heal the most depleted of fields and the most tainted of gardens back in the Shire.

Like the one time Hamfast Gamgee had used sunflowers to clean his soil one season after his fauntlings had accidentally knocked a wheelbarrow of contaminated soil back into their garden after a harvest of ill tomatoes. 

And so on they went into the gloom, single file and trailed by sunflowers. Bilbo was getting a kick out of Fili and Kili’s awe for his abilities as each time Bilbo crouched down to grow a row of Sunflowers before them, his eyes and hands shone bright in the mirk. Ori was drawing away, trying to capture a chronology of the sunflowers’ rapid growth. The dwarves were warned by Bilbo not to eat the seeds because if the sunflowers were doing their job, the seeds might be tainted by whatever ailed the forest. 

It seemed that where the sunflowers grew, the forest seemed a little less dark and malicious. The few beams of sunlight that were able to break the thick canopy of blackened leaves above them made things a bit less gloomy and honestly Bilbo couldn’t be happier with his plan. 

He could still feel the hum of the pained forest and the lack of animals aside from the little black squirrels that skittered here and there made him uneasy. 

There were dead leaves in heavy tall piles at the base of every tree. The natural cycle of decomposition seemed to have been thrown off by the sheer amount of plant death that had occurred in these woods. Bilbo could not feel the scratching and wiggling of the soil's natural helpers, worms and grubs and the like beneath the soil. He knew his sunflowers would be a bandaid on a much larger wound but at least they would be able to travel without leaving Bilbo behind. 

Their path was thin and overgrown with branches and roots and the few dwarves that had taken the Old Forest Road before said that it was indeed much changed from the paths that usually wound through the forest. They claimed that it had likely once been a well lit path with much life about it. Deer crossing this way and that, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, bird song in the trees. Bilbo couldn’t picture this gloomy place being so green and full of light. They said you would pass traveling elf patrols from Thranduil’s palace and other travelers on the way. It seemed times had changed indeed since the dragon took Erebor. 

Bilbo wondered of Gandalf and Beorn as they walked. Gandalf was sure this curse on the forest was coming from Dol Guldur, from some ghastly reincarnation of the Dark Lord Sauron. Bilbo shuddered even at the thought of the name. He hoped his two friends were safe and perhaps they’d defeat this shade before it grew too powerful. Perhaps the forest could be saved.

When they made camp, Bilbo made triple rows of the sunflowers, cutting down on the company’s room to bed down but the hobbit assured them that he simply knew he had to to protect them from the forest’s rot in the night. Not that they were entirely sure it was night.

After a week in the dark forest, their perception of night and day was all but gone. Bilbo had grown his iridescent blue plants for each of the party to carry, conserving their fire, flint and kindling for the nights and for cooking. The light of the bulbs was just enough to see their feet and yet not attract the many moths and bugs that actually did occupy the forest. Their food and water supply were holding, though they had no concrete idea of how far into the forest they were or how much further they had to go. Bilbo’s sunflowers did help them know where they had been and Bilbo and Balin had judged that they’d traveled at least seventy five miles, putting them almost halfway through the forest. The pace was much slower than they would like but Bilbo did have to rest after each growing. 

He was trying to maintain his stamina and not let himself be a burden to the company. They were, after all, only moving slower because of him. When he’d expressed this to the company one night, they’d been quite outraged. Claiming that their journey could only be lightened by their magic wizard hobbit and his flowers. He was teased quite a bit for his love and need for growing things. But it was all in good fun as the party understood why he needed the sunflowers after Thorin had explained Bilbo’s abilities could be similar to stone sense. 

The morale of the group was still high, even as they began to notice large webs strung up the sides of trees and stretching between branches. Larger than any normal spider’s with lines of webbing as thick around as ship rope.

At night, they began to see eyes in the gloom. Yellow, green, and red eyes stared back at them. The company began to take extra comfort in their hobbit sunflower fortress at night. The eyes were bulbous like that of an insect and the company had talked amongst themselves that perhaps the owners of the eyes were the ones making the webs. 

That thought sent a shudder through the company. For that would mean these were very large creatures indeed. Big enough that a dwarf or a hobbit would be a quick snack. Bilbo took the liberty of also growing a very aromatic plant they used back in the Shire to keep spiders and insects off their plants. Just in case. 

Their first trial came when they arrived at the stream Beorn had warned them of. Supposedly it was cursed and thus you could not drink it or let the water touch your skin. It was about twelve yards across and the bridge that stretched it had rotted away to a very unstable looking frame of planks and boards. 

Even with Bilbo’s sharp eyes and the dwarves' impeccable ability to see in the dark, there seemed to be no other way across the water. They bunked down for the night at its shore and brainstormed on how to get across. Bilbo was growing their circle of sunflowers when suddenly Peaky gave a yip.

“Master Baggins! You can help us get across!” The hobbit blinked in confusion at the dog as did everyone else. The greyhound seemed to roll its eyes before continuing. “You could grow vines and such across what’s left of the bridge to steady it! We may be able to get across then.” The company muttered amongst itself as Bilbo thought of this. 

It was likely he could do that and it might be sturdy enough to hold the dwarves. But in order to do so it would take a lot out of him to grow that much in one sitting and thus he would likely be unable to continue growing the sunflowers he needed. He might even fall into an exhausted sleep. He was already feeling the effects of having used his abilities so constantly over the past week and it had been getting harder and harder to muster up such tall flowers and to open his eyes in the mornings when it was time to set off again. Peaky had been helping him by being a body to lean on at times but still.

The party began talking over themselves as Bilbo explained this. The brother’s Ri and Fili and Kili were adamant they couldn’t make their hobbit drain himself to cross the water. Though the rest of the company had a point that they had no other choice lest their journey end here. Bilbo looked at the commotion and frowned. Tempers were growing short despite the fact that the journey had gone well so far. The lack of sun and fresh air even for the hardy mountain dwelling dwarves seemed to be taking its toll. 

If they had reached the enchanted stream it meant that they were well over half way through the forest. It meant in fact that they were close to Thranduil's palace as the stream ran from the Forest River to the mountains of Mirkwood further south. And where the Forest River met the stream or not far beyond was the Elvenking’s hold.

He knew that dwarves and elves had a healthy distaste for one another but perhaps if they followed the stream to the river and sought sanctuary they would get a reprieve from this forest’s taint. 

When Bilbo said as much to the ruckus dwarves, they looked among themselves then finally to Thorin who had remained silent in the background. Bilbo was beginning to realize that Thorin’s silences might not be brooding at all but that he really was just a quiet dwarf. However quiet any dwarf could be. Though he was their King and they deferred to him in times like this when decisions were to be made, it seemed the king would otherwise hang on the outer edges of their group. Alone except for Dwalin or Balin and hardly ever joining in on the merrymaking or laughter. 

Thorin looked at the group then at their hobbit. “While I am not fond of Thranduil and our families have had their misgivings. If Master Baggins cannot get us across without great harm to himself and we cannot cross here, I fear we have no other choice but to leave the path and follow the stream to the Elvenking’s home. If our journey would otherwise end here, I suppose we will have to lean on the help of Elves once again.” 

With that pronouncement, their course was set. Bilbo had not even thought of the fact they would be disregarding Beorn’s warning and leaving the path but it seemed they had no other choice. As long as they remained here they were sitting ducks for those insects in the trees and Bilbo had no plans of becoming spider food anytime soon. He grew an extra ring of insect repelling plants that night and bedded down.

The next morning, the company committed to their decision and left the path. They followed the stream for three days. They had all grown wearier and wearier as the banks of the stream were muddy and slippery and the likelihood that someone would fall in or accidentally touch the water was growing. Bilbo was beginning to fade in and out of consciousness as the continued use of his abilities made him weak. He’d taken to riding on Peaky’s back, the greyhound like a small pony to the hobbit. The company roused him every few minutes to grow more sunflowers and the gaps in memory were becoming startling and jarring. 

It felt like everytime he closed his eyes, the forest’s sickening cries were getting louder, overpowering the sunflower’s and Bilbo’s will to keep moving. Bilbo could feel the ill of the forest starting to take hold of him. Like he himself was a poor tree caught in its diseased grasp. 

Finally Bilbo closed his eyes and could open them no more. The world was a black boiling mess of tar and the smell of sweet rot. And he was drowning in it. 

Chapter Text

When Bilbo woke, he was in a room made of stone and laden with elegant wooden furniture. He had to say he was tired of waking up in strange places. The tunnels, Beorn’s cottage, wherever this was. He had a right mind to tell the fates that one should wake up where they fell asleep. But then again he had no idea where he had fallen asleep. 

He vaguely remembered the feel of Peaky’s fur and perhaps the concerned voices of the company but that was all. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here or whether everyone else was okay. 

His head felt very fuzzy and his body felt very weak but it didn’t stop the determined hobbit from climbing out of bed. Though he swayed, he managed to make it to the door. On the other side, he could hear voices. 

“Father insists we convince the hobbit to stay and let the dwarves be on their way. I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult!” One of the voices said. It sounded like a man but very light and airy like an elf. Bilbo wondered if they had actually made it to Thranduil’s palace. 

“And I don’t understand why you’re not listening! The dwarves say they will not leave without their hobbit. Three of them are already locked in their rooms under guard, under order of the King because they tried to fight the guards to get to the hobbit. One was caught trying to put a sleeping draft in the guard’s wines! These dwarves are more trouble than they are worth and we should just let them take their hobbit and leave.” 

Bilbo had heard quite enough to know that at least his friends were safe, hopefully all of them. As he pushed the large door open he was surprised to see the tall lean figures of two elves. These were not the elves of Rivendell, tall and dark. But the Wood Elves, tall and fair. One looked like autumn had become a person, all red flowing hair and bright hazel eyes. The other looked like he was dipped in starlight, his hair like a fountain of platinum. The two elves turned in surprise to the hobbit. The she-elf bent down before him.

“Little one, you should return to bed. The cursed water has taken its toll on your spirit. You were nearly too far from this world for us to pull back.” Her voice was like bells but despite that her words were like a knife. 

“The cursed water? Did I fall in? I don’t remember! Are my companions alright? Did they fall in?” His questions came fast and the she-elf blinked at him before answering.

“Your feet. You don’t wear shoes and you were traveling through the mud. The rest of your party was spared from the water’s effects but your bare feet absorbed the water from the mud and the curse took hold of you.” Bilbo blinked, his foggy brain trying to process.

“Peaky! He’s a dog, he wasn’t wearing shoes either!” The she-elf looked as if she was trying to hold in laughter. 

“Indeed, but the curse doesn’t affect animals like it does the other races. Your greyhound is fine and quite happy chasing around the cooks for scraps.” Bilbo sighed in relief and slumped against the door frame. The other elf had walked off sometime in their conversation and the she-elf was now standing and speaking to the two guards Bilbo hadn’t noticed on either side of his doorway. 

“Little hobbit, I am Tauriel. I’ve been charged with guarding you and seeing to your recovery.” The she-elf, Tauriel, got Bilbo’s attention again. The hobbit was starting to feel a little weak in the knees and it was a trial to hold himself up even with the doorframe’s help. “I believe we should get you back to bed.” 

Bilbo made a noise of protest as he was scooped up quite like a fauntling and brought back into the room and placed on the bed. 

“My word! I am a grown hobbit! I may walk on my own!” 

Tauriel blinked at him again and laughed her bell laugh. “I mean you no offense, Master-”

“Baggins. Bilbo Baggins.”

“Master Baggins, it’s just that you are so small. Even smaller than an elfling.”

The hobbit pulled the blanket up over him and laid his head back. His head was pounding from the sudden movement of getting to bed. He harrumphed. “It’s not my fault everyone is so bloody big around here.”

And Bilbo would have felt right embarrassed for the fact he was using such foul language around a lady if it were not for the fact he had quickly fallen back to sleep. 

He awoke sometime later to Tauriel bringing him a meal of light tea and thin broth. It made his hobbit stomach grumble for more but he was told his stomach would reject anything more substantial. He asked about his companions and based on Tauriel’s descriptions, it seemed that all were accounted for and fine. Thorin and Balin were taking counsel with the King who was refusing to aid them in their quest aside from leading them out of the rest of Mirkwood, which Bilbo thought was a fair and fine idea and they should take what help they could get and not be greedy. Fili, Kili and Ori had been the ones who had tried to fight the guards to get to their hobbit, the foolish younglings.

Luckily the guards had been very merciful and only confined them to their guest rooms rather than the dungeons. Like Nori.

Because of course Nori had been the one caught trying to put a sleeping draft in the guards’ wine. This wasn’t taken so lightly as the tomfoolery of young dwarves and the dwarf had been taken to the dungeons. However the next morning the dwarf was gone from his cell and hadn’t been seen since. Bilbo was sure Nori was fine and skulking about trying to get information on their host. The sneaky bugger.

The rest of their company was behaving themselves and resting from their journey through Mirkwood. Their elven hosts were actually being quite accommodating as they were used to anyone who entered their forest becoming lost or running into trouble. Tauriel told Bilbo that they often received worn traders and merchants who got lost between the ruins of Dale and the Misty Mountains. 

However the travelers didn’t receive the same treatment that Bilbo was receiving. The King’s personal guard captain protecting him and tending his wounds seemed like a bit of a stretch for simple hospitality. Bilbo had inquired to Tauriel why this was but she had told him he would know once he was well enough to speak to the King. 

And thus Bilbo spent the next couple of days with Tauriel and sometimes the King’s son, Prince Legolas, as his only companions. He was highly frustrated he wasn’t allowed to see his dwarves or Peaky but there was no changing the King’s order. Bilbo had a right mind to give the King a stern talking to about isolating injured hobbits from their friends. 

Bilbo wanted to heal himself but he never had a waking hour where he was alone. He didn’t want to reveal himself as strange or odd to the Elves and possibly be locked away. Though he remembered Elrond and his twins’ happiness at having a Chosen Child among them he had also heard of the harshness of Wood Elves in comparison to their brethren. He didn’t want to take any chances. 

And thus, on the day he could finally keep down a loaf of bread, butter, and jam and a tankard of watered wine, he was told he would be able to speak with the King. Bilbo dressed himself in his washed and dried traveling clothes and felt whole and hail for the first time since they’d left Beorn’s.

The hobbit was led down turning halls and stone staircases. Unlike the wide open Rivendell that seemed to climb into the sky and unlike the goblin tunnels that were cramped and smelled of mildew, Thranduil’s walls were built in great white limestone. Their tunnels were well lit and warmed by torches and smelled of fresh air. Bilbo could feel that they were underground but the castle felt like any other in its beauty, just missing windows to the outside. They traveled deeper into the palace until they came to a set of great wooden doors made of growing ivies and wood. Bilbo could feel that the plants themselves were still alive and had been guided to take the shape they were in. He was in great awe of this and wished he could ask the person who made it how they did so. Tauriel waved a hand and the doors opened, surprising Bilbo even more. Perhaps these woodland Elves had a magic and relationship with nature similar to his. 

Inside the doors was a great cavern filled with torches that flickered off the raised diases and polished limestone surfaces of the room. In the center was a great throne made of the same twisting vines and wood that the door was. Bilbo could sense that this too was alive and he was thrilled by the idea that one could build things without having to harm the plants themselves. As he’d realized he could feel the dying of plants in the forest and even along their journey when they would cut fresh wood from trees and saplings. And their death cries broke his heart and made him queasy. 

On the throne sat Thranduil, his features just like his son’s, long platinum hair and fair skin with dark eyebrows in an angelic angled face. Bilbo bowed before the King who inclined his head.

“Master Baggins, it is a pleasure to see you awake and healed. We had worried our forest had taken you.” Thranduil’s voice was deep and honeyed and Bilbo was surprised as most Elves he had met had high clear voices. 

“Indeed. I must thank you for your hospitality and kindness in bringing me back to full health. Your guard captain is a very talented healer as well as I may presume a very talented fighter. And the prince was so kind as to give a weary hobbit entertainment and conversation. I truly can’t imagine how I have earned such an honor but I thank you nonetheless.” The Elf King quirked an eyebrow and seemed amused.

“Very flattering words, Master Baggins. You have a silver tongue.” Bilbo blushed. “But I must tell you my help was not so selflessly given.” Bilbo furrowed his brows as the King stood and gestured for Bilbo to follow him. The hobbit followed as best he could as the King made his way up the stairs that circles up and behind his throne. Tauriel had been ordered to stay behind along with the rest of the guards and Bilbo wondered what the Elf King could have to say to just him.

They arrived at the top in what appeared to be Thranduil’s personal parlor. It was white with wooden furniture in the same fashion as the rest of the palace and he was gestured to sit in one of the comfortable looking chairs with plush white cushions. 

Thranduil sat in an adjacent seat for which Bilbo was very thankful as the King was very tall and Bilbo feared he would get a crick in his neck from straining to look up at him. 

“I’ve given you and your company shelter and arranged for you to stay for an extended period of time.” Bilbo began to protest that they couldn’t stay for long but he was cut off by Thranduil. “Yes I’m aware of your quest but I hope that you will understand why I need you to stay here.” Bilbo closed his mouth and nodded as if saying for the King to go on. “I am aware of what you are. I am aware of what you can do. And I need you to heal my forest.” 

Bilbo blinked for a moment then frowned. “And you will hold me and my company hostage til I do so?” 

The king shook his head. “Only you. Your company is free to go. But they are as stubborn as any dwarves I have ever met, if not more so, Thorin is so much like his grandfather. They will not leave without you.” Bilbo felt touched by his companions’ loyalty to him, but they couldn’t afford to waste more time here. 

“King Thranduil, I cannot just put our quest on hold to heal your forest. Even if I could, I am but one hobbit and I would likely forfeit my life to heal your forest.”

“But you will forfeit your life for the dwarves' foolish venture?” Bilbo bit his tongue on his immediate reaction to say yes. “For that is what you will do. This is a suicide mission. With just thirteen dwarves and Chosen Child, you seek to take down a dragon and reclaim an entire mountain. And to keep that mountain from opportunists…” Thranduil swirled a glass of wine he had poured himself and looked Bilbo in the eyes. “Like myself.” 

Bilbo inhaled swiftly and leaned away from the gaze. He felt a fire of indignation in his bones that this Elf would be so manipulative and harsh. He’d never met an elf like this. Though he supposed an entire race could have a few bad eggs. “I beg your pardon. You should be quite ashamed of yourself! First you let your forest rot and become diseased right above your head, then when it has decayed to nearly the point of no return you intend to blackmail and cheat your way to a solution! I’ve never heard such arrogance and insanity!” The King’s face became thunderous.

“You, little halfing, must watch your silver tongue.” 

“I most certainly will not. I have been ordered by the Valar to see this quest through and I won’t let some warmongering Elf stop me because he wants someone to clean up his mistakes! I’ve been through too much to stop here. If you want to help your wood so badly, why not go to Dol Guldur yourself?” Bilbo huffed and crossed his arms. He didn’t care how hard this Elf glared, it was right rude and immoral to hold him here.

Though the elf was not glaring, he looked puzzled. “Dol Guldur? What does the ancient ruin have to do with this?” 

Bilbo blanched at him. “You’re not serious? Have you not even explored your own forest for the source of its rot?” The Elf King took a sip of his wine. 

“We had. But we hardly ever travel so far south to the ruins. There had been reports that the spiders were more populated there. But I assumed they were flocking to the dark places of the forest.” Bilbo shook his head.

“Certainly not. Gandalf the Grey and Beorn the skin changer are on their way there now or possibly already there, fighting…” Bilbo looked about himself. He didn’t want to even say the Dark Lord’s name. 

Thranduil leaned forward intrigued. “Fighting who? Is there a being causing this rot in my forest?” The King’s eyes were ablaze in indignation and Bilbo realized this may be his chance to free himself from the King’s hostage situation. 

“I will tell you who. But you must promise to let me go and to go join the battle against them.” The King’s eyebrows furrowed and he leaned back again. 

“You said your journey was blessed by the Valar.” Bilbo was confused at the subject change. “But when you’ve reached your journey's end, there is a dragon. A dragon that may very well bring fire and destruction down on the ruins of Dale, Laketown, and my people once again should he be awakened.” The King’s face seemed to blur and melt to reveal half of it was burnt and scarred. “How am I to let you go and awaken this beast? I know dragons and Smaug is the most terrible of them all. The fire drake will not die so easily and will not be persuaded.” Bilbo frowned. He didn’t know himself but he couldn’t rightly tell the King that and still expect to be released. 

But he could not lie.

The hobbit looked down at his hands. “The truth is, I’ve no idea what I’m doing most of the time. Let alone at our journey’s end. I don’t know how Lady Yavanna expects me to stop Smaug from killing us all. But she believes I can. With the abilities she has given me. And I must have faith in that.” He looked up at the King. “And thereby, you must have faith in me.”

The King was quiet for a long time, staring at Bilbo. 

“I am not a trusting person, hobbit. I have known great wars and great dark times that would make lesser folk fall to madness.” He looked into his wine glass. “Or perhaps I had fallen to madness long ago.”

“Then you must do something sane. You must let me go and lead your men to Dol Guldur. To fight Sauron.” Bilbo hoped trusting the King with his one bargaining chip would not backfire on him. The King’s eyes blew wide with shock and what could only be fear at the Hobbit’s statement. “For how can you expect me to give my life for your forest if you will not do the same?”

They sat in silence for a long time til eventually Thranduil said he had much to think about and sent Bilbo away. Bilbo gave the King one last look before he went down the stairs to the throne room. He hoped that the King would see the sense in his words and would not keep him waiting long. 

Chapter Text

Bilbo was indeed kept waiting. Three days passed since his meeting with the King. He had been allowed to see his companions. They were all overjoyed to see their hobbit back in good spirits and good health. Dori and Oin had mothered him within an inch of his life til the boys, Yavanna bless their souls, had dragged Bilbo with them to explore some of the palace. They were of course trailed by guards, including Tauriel, but it seemed Fili, Kili, and Ori had been forgiven for their ruckus behavior. 

The three younglings delighted in the twisting turning maze of the palace and Bilbo couldn’t help but be caught up in their infectious laughter. Fili and Kili were often in good spirits but it was nice to see Ori coming out of his shell. He was acting less like a third wheel to the twin brothers and more like a conspiring compatriot to their hijinks. 

Tauriel had at first seemed shocked by the playfulness but had warmed up to it. She had told Bilbo that it wasn’t often their halls rang with laughter nowadays so it was a pleasant change. She even joined in, unwittingly, to the mischief when Fili and Kili came tearing up a hall with a parcel in their hands and a trail of kitchen workers behind him. It seemed they had snuck off to pilfer the pantries. Bilbo’s own pantry could attest that this was a habit.

Kili gave the tall Woodland elf a debonair smile that seemed to raise color to her cheeks and Tauriel had sent the cooks away with a laugh and an apology. 

Bilbo had been happy to spend some downtime with his dwarves. It had been a while since they had all been able to just relax. Gloin and Bilbo were able to catch up for the first time since the mountains. Gloin showed Bilbo how to sharpen his swords and reset his leather grips. Bifur and Bofur were happy to show Bilbo a few more tricks with whittling. 

Nori had indeed appeared for a brief time to tell Bilbo he thought he’d done a bang up job haggling with the King. Because of course Nori had been listening in. He told Bilbo he would be continuing to scope the palace out for escape routes should the need arise and that he would keep an eye on the brooding Thranduil. The hobbit could only laugh and tell the dwarf to be as careful as possible. For whatever good that might do. 

Bilbo was very surprised as on the night of the second day, he came across Thorin. The dwarf king was smoking his pipe with Dwalin at his side. Bilbo had thought he would just press on but the dwarf king had waved for him to join at what looked like an angry glance from Dwalin.

The hobbit had sat down and pulled out his own pipe and the trio had been silent for a long time. Then Thorin spoke.

“Nori has reported what was said in your meeting with the Elf.” 

Bilbo snorted. “Of course he has. Well then you must know I told the King I would not abandon our quest.”

Thorin nodded. 

“And you also know of what Gandalf and Beorn seek in the south of Mirkwood.”

Thorin nodded again and Bilbo was surprised when Dwalin spoke up.

“Master Baggins. I have been suspicious of you since the moment I arrived at your doorstep.” The hobbit blinked and nodded, unsure of where this was going. The tall bald headed dwarf was not looking at him, in fact he seemed to be avoiding his gaze. “I was told by my brother that my weariness was unfounded. And again by this dolt,” He patted Thorin harshly on the back for which the King glared at him. “After the tunnels. And still I remained weary.”

Bilbo wasn’t sure what to say to this but it seemed he need not say anything as Dwalin continued. 

“And when you were so friendly with the skin changer and talking to dogs and growing flowers, I thought you stranger still. I thought my suspicions had been proven right. Regardless of what our Maker’s wife may have thought of you.” Bilbo had a flash of Mahal in Yavanna’s vision play over his mind’s eye. Dwalin was still not looking at him. 

“And even now, to hear of you having secret meetings with Elves and knowing of things like Dark Lords and speaking with Gods, I am weary of you. I am a weary dwarf.”

Bilbo nodded along. He knew Dwalin wasn’t fond of him. The dwarf had hardly said a word to him the entire journey.

“But our dear King,” Again he pointed a large thumb at Thorin. “Seems to think I need to apologize. My suspicious nature has kept me out of much danger. And my charges as well.” Bilbo had been made aware that along with being Thorin’s closest if only friend and personal guard, Dwalin was also charged with protecting Fili and Kili by their mother Dis. Who from what Bilbo had heard was a fearsome dwarf in her own right. 

“Master Dwalin, while I appreciate your transparency, I must assure you I have taken no slight to your suspicion. I am well aware that I am an outsider among you dwaro.” Thorin looked at him and Bilbo thought he might say something but Dwalin continued. 

“You and I are both wrong then. For you have saved much of this company at least once and you have been as helpful and useful as the next dwarf on this journey. I was blind to see that. Even at the behest of my brother who is quite fond of you. I thought for sure, instead of being a blessing from Yavanna, you were a curse and would somehow lead us to our detriment. To say the least I thought I had been right all along when Thorin told me of your plan to have mercy,” Dwalin spit the word. “On the worm.”

Bilbo made to protest but he was cut off. “Do not get me wrong, Master Baggins. If I have the ability, I will foil your plan and slay the serpent myself.” The hobbit frowned and Dwalin looked him in the eyes at last. “But I cannot continue to claim you are not loyal to us and our quest. You are as loyal as any of these dwarves and for my misgivings… I apologize.” Bilbo was taken aback. Dwalin had said more words to him in the past few minutes than their entire journey and the gruff dwarf was now apologizing. 

Bilbo felt a deep sense of belonging and warmth then. He smiled at the dwarf who turned his head quickly. Bilbo couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at the emotional density and melodrama of dwarves. Dwalin turned to him at his laugh, his face perhaps a bit red. “You laugh at my apology, hobbit?”

Bilbo shook his head and smiled again. “Not at all, Master Dwalin. Thank you.”

The dwarf nodded and stood. Bilbo guessed that was enough feelings talk for the tattooed dwarf for the next century and Bilbo thought he may go the rest of his life without hearing another word from Dwalin. 

As the dwarf walked off, Bilbo turned to Thorin and gave him a look. “Did you put him up to that?” The dwarf snorted and took a drag of his pipe.

“We dwarves can be untrusting of outsiders. It only seemed right he apologized, for you have not been an outsider for a long time on this journey.” Bilbo nodded at the statement and took a pensive drag of his own pipe.

“It was not so long ago I had believed you thought the same as he.”

Thorin nodded at this. “I did. And now I do not.”

Bilbo hummed. They sat in comfortable silence for a while yet and when Thorin left to do whatever dwarf kings do, Bilbo felt distinctly like he had finally been accepted by the whole of the company. Even by its most gruff and grumpy members.

It left a bright feeling of happiness in his chest and a sense of rightness.

The next day was the third day and on that day, Bilbo was called to Thanduil’s throne room again. The hobbit was once again escorted by Tauriel and even Legolas. The prince gave him a fond smile that gave Bilbo hope that this meeting would end on pleasant terms. 

This time when he arrived before the King and bowed, Thranduil did not gesture for him to follow to his private parlor. 

“I have thought much on our conversation, Master Baggins. And I will admit, till I lay my head to rest last night, I had planned on throwing your dwarves into the dungeon as bargaining tools to force you to heal my forest.” Tauriel and Legolas looked up at their King in shock. 

Bilbo glared at the King and Thranduil had the gall to laugh in his face. “But! As I dreamt last night, I was visited by the Lady. It has been many a century since the Lady deemed a Wood elf worthy of her attention and I will admit to spite that she did so for you, a little halfing from the Shire. And yet, I cannot ignore her decree.”

Bilbo was surprised and once again wondered if the Lady Yavanna was not taking great risks in meddling with mortal affairs as her husband had said she was. Though Elves are not exactly mortal. 

“I will let you and your company go. However, she has promised you will return and heal my forest.” The King’s eyes bore deeply into Bilbo’s and the hobbit felt a shiver go down his spine. “As your final act as a Chosen Child.” Thranduil leaned back into his throne with a victorious air as Bilbo’s face drained of color. 

His final act as a Chosen Child? 

So in the end, he would not die for his friends, their honorable quest, or for the good of the world to return the Ring to whence it came? He would have to complete all of his other tasks and still return to this god forsaken forest and give his life for this Elf with an attitude that made Lobelia Sackville-Baggins look like a saint? There would be no returning to his safe Hobbit hole and living out the rest of his days with a glorious tale to tell the nieces and nephews? 

Bilbo had always known it was a possibility that he would not return to his home, that his life would be forfeit on this quest. But to have it written in fate and stone. That he would not survive to return to his home. 

It rattled him, to his core. 

Bilbo thought to himself that he had been so brave, following what Gandalf said, then following what Yavanna said, but he did not feel brave now. He knew he was but a small hobbit in the grand scheme of things. But somehow along the way he had grown a bit confident, a bit full of himself, thinking of himself as perhaps one of those brave adventurers in the stories who win the war and live happily ever after. 

But he was the same hobbit who walked out his door at Bag End. Frightened and unsure. 

Bilbo looked down at his feet and the hall seemed to hang in a tense silence awaiting his response. He clenched his fist.

Up until now, despite the fact his life was fated, there had still been hope of an after. After the dragon, after the ring, after the journey had met its end. Along the way, he had entertained thoughts of traveling with Gandalf. Of visiting Beorn and returning Peaky to his Master. Of seeing what Erebor looked like when it was full of life like the older dwarves described it in its heyday. Of returning home and showing off his new found steadfastness to the Took side of his family. Of returning to Rivendell to visit Elrohir and Elladan. Of many things that were after.

But it seemed there would be no after. His life was played out and planned to his last breath. He would sacrifice himself ultimately for Lady Yavanna’s will and the Valar’s plans. His life would be given in the name of healing Mirkwood. Mirkwood whose own King would not even raise his sword to defend. It seemed a petty cause to die for when he could die for his friends or for the sake of the entire world.

How morbid, to think of dying as if he was choosing the venue for his next birthday party. Bilbo took a deep calming breath, realizing he had been holding his breath for far too long. His head felt a bit light. 

Courage. He would have courage. For who was he? Just a small hobbit who had been blessed with ability and cursed with responsibility. 

Bilbo looked up and met Thranduil’s dark eyes, a sense of hardened resolve about him despite his despair and what felt like mourning for a life he could have had. 

“I will do as the Lady has said. I will heal your forest at the end of my journey.” Thranduil’s eyes shone with triumph and Bilbo felt a sickening curl of rage in his stomach. “But,” Bilbo’s voice was like icy daggers. “When I lay my life down at the altar of your manipulations and ignorance, I hope you will hear my voice in your every waking moment and see my face in every fevered dream. And know that you are a coward, O Great King of the Woodland. A weak, spineless coward.”

With that, Bilbo turned from Thranduil’s snarling face and fled the throne room.

Chapter Text

The next day when the Company was sent on their way with a barge and their packs and weapons all returned to them, everyone was in good spirits except Bilbo. 

While the dwarves were celebrating being away from the ‘leaf eaters’ and the ‘poorly constructed’ (if you asked any of the miners) halls of Mirkwood, Bilbo was staring off the side of their barge at the passing final trees of Mirkwood. 

He thought of the fact that he would eventually return here, and not for a pleasant visit to see his new found friends Tauriel or Legolas. But to give his life to heal the forest’s rot. Bilbo wondered why the King would not have just taken his advice and gone to Dol Guldur. With his forces and Gandalf and Beorn, they might have made easy work of Sauron in his weakened shade state. 

But no one listened to a little hobbit it seemed. He was just a piece of a grand puzzle to be moved and used then discarded when the jigsaw was complete. 

Bilbo imagined he might fall into a forever sleep like Elyanna. At least his death would not be painful and he would get to live his afterlife in the Undying Lands. Perhaps he would go to Yavanna’s garden and see Smeagol and his parents. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad, after the trials and tribulations he had faced and those still to come. Perhaps he would go peacefully into the light, knowing he had done so much for those he had grown to care about.

Because really, one day Thranduil would be gone. And if things remained as they were, he would leave behind a rotting forest to his son and the innocent people of his realm. And Bilbo didn’t wish any hardship on Legolas or innocents. When he thought of it like that, it seemed a little easier to bear. 

Bilbo would have courage and he would do as he was fated. 

The hobbit shook his foggy head and turned to find Peaky and Nori next to him. He smiled at them. He knew these two would be with him till the end and by the knowing look in Nori’s eyes, Bilbo knew his friend had listened to what had transpired in the throne room.

“You should tell Thorin. He would move mountains to make sure you don’t fall into that bastard’s grasp.” Bilbo blushed and smiled.

“I don’t know about all that. I’m surprised you didn’t tell him yourself.”

Nori snorted and scratched Peaky behind the ears. “Aye, I would have. But if Thorin or any of the company knew what you were planning to do, we wouldn’t have made it out of the palace without quite a bit of bloodshed and trouble.” 

Bilbo blinked at the dwarf who gave him an exasperated look. “You really don’t see how much you mean to all of us? Even the old stickler back there?” Nori waved in the direction of Dwalin who, as if his ears were burning, shot the thief a glare. Bilbo chuckled at their rivalry. The thief and the king’s guard.

“But in all seriousness, Bilbo. If you don’t want to return to that Elf’s forest, you don’t have to. We’ll figure something out. He has nothing on you.”

“Nothing but the promise of a goddess.” Nori frowned at Bilbo.

“Indeed. Some goddess. Sacrificing her Children like that.” Bilbo swatted at the dwarf and told him to watch his tongue. Their bickering was interrupted by Balin’s call from the helm of the barge. They were leaving the treeline and entering Long Lake. 

Bilbo stood and was caught in the same raptious awe that each of the dwarves were in as they caught their first look at the Lonely Mountain. It was massive and foreboding. One could just make out its hulking fractured doors that must have led into the city of Erebor. Bilbo could see a few of the dwarves wiping tears from their eyes at the sight. They were so close. So close to seeing the journey's end.

Bilbo felt his resolve harden. Regardless of the after, he would see his dwarves home. 

They sailed on, making towards the mountain til they were suddenly accosted by men on the water. They surrounded them with a boat on either side. The captain of one hailed them. 

“Ah hoy! You’ve entered the Master of Laketown’s personal waterways! State your business here!” 

Thorin hailed back. “Perhaps we could speak with this Master! I will tell him my business here!” The men grumbled before the captain called.

“And who are you to demand to see the Master?” 

Thorin straightened his shoulders and Bilbo thought he looked quite regal. “I am Thorin, son of Thrain! King Under the Mountain!” This caused a great amount of stirring on the boats and suddenly they were being ushered to follow the men to their dock.

Their Company was guided through a town that smelled of rotting fish. It was colder here on the lake and the people around them looked to be hardly dressed for the weather. The houses were ramshackled and dilapidated. Their windows almost all had no glass, just rickety shutters and boards. Bilbo thought these people must get very cold indeed at night and very wet in the rain. There were little gondolas and canoes everywhere on the sides of the hopefully stable walk ways. 

Bilbo could hardly believe he was walking through a town built on the water. At least not one that looked fit to fall into said water at any moment. 

Then they arrived in what seemed to be town square. Ahead was the most grand house they’d seen this whole journey. It was painted a gaudy red color. There were window panes with intricate designs in every frame. You could practically feel the warmth from what had to be a very well stoked network of fires seeping out every crevice. 

The apparent leader of the guards who had brought them walked up to the house and knocked on the large front door with its shining golden knocker. They waited a moment before a greasy, rat faced man opened the door. 

“Yes, yes, what is it?”

The guard frowned at the odd man’s tone. “I’ve brought visitors. They wish to see the Master.” Bilbo might have been hearing things but he thought he heard quite a bit of venom being laced on the word Master. 

The rat-faced man frowned and made to close the door. “Well, send them away. The Master has no wish to speak with the rabble.” The guard stuck the toe of his boot in the door to stop it from closing and leaned in. 

“They are dwarves. Led by one who calls himself King.” This made the rat man’s eyes go wide and he finally deigned to peek his head into the cold and look at their visitors. Bilbo was highly unimpressed by the rudeness of leaving one's guest out in the frigid air. 

He sniffed and looked back to the guard. “Very well then, Bard. Just a moment.” 

The rat man disappeared back into the warm house and the guard, Bard, walked back down the stairs. Bilbo leaned over to him.

“Nice fellow, huh?” Bard looked down at him in surprise and cracked a small smile.

“The kindest.” Bilbo chuckled.

They waited for a few minutes longer. To the point where the company became restless and Thorin had to silence their complaining. 

Then the rat man reappeared and behind him one of the fattest, most garish Men Bilbo had ever seen. The man wore a bright red fur coat and had jewels on every finger and gold necklaces about his jiggling neck. Bilbo was distinctly reminded of the Goblin King in the tunnels and thought this might be his long lost brother. 

When he spoke, his voice was lascivious and grandiose. “Welcome! Welcome, dear travellers, to Laketown!” Dwalin shifted and put a hand on his battleaxe as the Master came down the stairs to forcibly grab and shake Thorin’s hand. The King took it in stride though. He pulled away as if he had touched something greasy and wiped his hand on his shirt.

Funnily enough, the Master did the same thing. They exchanged a few words and were invited inside. The Company was happy to be out of the cold and into the oppressive heat of the Master’s home. 

When the doors shut on the outside, it was almost like they were in a different world. Where the houses outside were rickety and ramshackled, the Master’s home was all elegant lines and rich textiles. Bilbo frowned and patted Peaky’s head. It seemed the Master didn’t care much for his townspeople and their welfare. Not when he lived in these grand quarters while his people seemed to be scraping by and suffering. If he wasn’t mistaken, Thorin seemed to be thinking the same thing as he looked around. The disgust on the dwarf’s face was plain to see. Bilbo thought this must be quite the slap in the face for a ruler who often went without eating and worked with his own hands to provide for his people like Thorin had. 

The Company shared their distaste but it seemed the Master was oblivious to their opinions on his rule. He was boasting about something or another. 

Thorin cut him off. “I’ve not come for pleasantries. We were stopped on our way to our destination by your men. We don’t seek anything from you except a bed for the night. We’ve gold to spend on supplies in your markets for our supplies.” The Master’s eyes seemed hungrier at the mention of gold and Bilbo thought Dwalin might pop a blood vessel. 

The Master roped Thorin and Balin into a discussion as the two seeming heads of the group while the rest of the company was ushered off to a set of large guest rooms. 

As much as the Master’s lavish accommodations compared to his people put a sour taste in his mouth, Bilbo couldn’t help the feeling of relaxation he got as he and Peaky jumped into the large downy bed. Nor the ease with which he fell asleep in the comfortable blankets and pillows. 

He was woken some time in the night by a hand on his mouth. Bilbo’s reflexes had luckily grown and Balin had never stopped he and the boys’ sword training. The hobbit had grabbed his sword from next to him and smacked his attacker across the face with his sword’s scabbard before he realised he recognized the shadow over him.

“Nori? What on Earth!” The thief shushed him, rubbing his tender cheek. 

“Mahal, Bilbo, seems we’ve been training you well.” Nori whispered. The hobbit snorted and sat up, shoving the dwarf back from his crouched position over him. 

“What are you doing? What time is it?” Bilbo whispered back.

“Early in the morn. I was out scouting and I think there’s more going on here than we had planned for.” Bilbo blinked at him as his eyes adjusted. Peaky came snuffling over and Bilbo thought the beast made an awful guard dog. Or perhaps he’d recognised Nori.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, you saw the state of this place. The Master all high and mighty in his home while his people suffer. It’s right unsavory.” Bilbo blinked and then smiled.

“My, my, Nori. I didn’t realise you were such a bleeding heart.” The dwarf frowned at him and swatted Bilbo on the head. 

“I’m no such thing. I just think we ought to do some liberating. And perhaps line my own pockets a little bit. I got into the Master’s study and he’s taxing the right blood and sweat out of his people. Stockpiling gold and gems and family heirlooms for himself.” Bilbo frowned at the thought. Indeed it looked like the people of Laketown lived in squalor while the Master laid in finery and lavishness. 

The hobbit smirked, “What did you have in mind?”

And that was how at dawn, shouts of surprise and happiness rang from every home in Laketown as at their doors they found a year’s worth of taxed aka stolen gold. Bilbo and Nori had been quite busy that night. They’d shoved handfuls of gold in pouches, chests, and whatever other containers they could find. They’d woken Fili, Kili, and Ori as quietly as they could and enlisted the younglings in their racketeering. 

Dwalin had woken of course, as the dwarf seemed to wake at the drop of a pin. But when the dwarf leaned his bald head out into the corridor to see five sheepish faces looking back at him, he’d simply shook his head and gone back into his room. No doubt he was very aware of the mischief they were about to cause but perhaps Dwalin disliked the Master just enough to let it happen. 

While the three young ones stood outside the window to the Master’s study and caught the bags of gold that were dropped down, Nori ran interference on the outside by causing a distraction. Peaky was enlisted into their mischief. The large greyhound created a commotion for the guards inside by stealing the flask of whiskey they’d been passing back and forth.

While the boys went to drop the loot in front of the homes of the Laketowners, Bilbo and Nori pilfered the market for supplies. As they knew when the morning came and their deed had been noticed, they’d need to make a quick get away. They of course left substantial gold for the stall owners whose supplies and food they’d pilfered. They packed up the barge that they had sailed from Mirkwood with.

Then they’d quietly woken the party and got everyone down to the boat. They were met at the dock by the boys who gave them all brilliant grins of mischief. Thorin had given them all disapproving looks but based on the fact there was no yelling, Bilbo guessed the Company didn’t care very much for the Master’s ruined fortune.

Dawn had just started to break when they set sail to the Lonely Mountain and they weren’t too far away to hear the commotion of a town waking to a new era of prosperity.

Bilbo hoped that the townspeople would have enough courage to stand up to the Master now that he did not have a choke hold on their coin purses. Perhaps they would return here and Laketown would be a much happier place. 

By late afternoon, they were arriving at the base of the Lonely Mountain.

Bilbo took a deep breath as he stepped from the boat. 

The same nervous tension seemed to be in every dwarf around him.

This was it. Erebor. And Smaug.

Chapter Text

The Company was an odd mix of solemn and excited as they spent the last hours of daylight climbing up the steep face of the mountain. Thorin remembered well the paths around the mountain and easily led them to the area where the secret door should be. 

From on high, they could see the full desolation of Smaug. There were great swathes of land scarred and charred. The ruins of Dale looked like the corpse of a great beast on the land. Bilbo shuddered at the thought that in not long an amount of time he would be face to face with the creature who did this. 

He’d asked Gandalf on their journey of what he knew of Smaug and his kind. He’d told Gandalf what Yavanna had said about the dragons being creatures like any other, neither inherently good nor evil. The wizard had paused when he’d said this and remained quiet for a long time. 

Then he’d spoken of what was believed to be the origin of dragons. That they were created by the Valar Morgoth to serve as war beasts in the dawn of the First Age. Glaurung, a fire drake like Smaug, was said to be the father of dragons and the most fearsome of them all. Morgoth used Glaurung to great effect in the battles of the First Age and the drake became feared by all for its wrath and ruthlessness. 

Later came Ancalagon the Black, the largest dragon to have ever been. In the final battle of the War of Wrath, Ancalagon and nearly every dragon were killed by the Valinor. The surviving few fled to the Grey Mountains and to the Wounded Heath and further north to lick their wounds and grow their numbers and be free of the trappings of mortal and immortal wars. 

Since the First Age, dragons had not been seen in the lower regions. They stayed in the north mostly. The largest of them, like Smaug, would battle with the Dwarves and the Men who hoarded gold. It wasn’t til Smaug that a dragon had succeeded in taking an entire fortress for itself and ousting an entire kingdom. 

Gandalf stated that if indeed the dragons were created by the Valar as a whole and then were turned and manipulated by Morgoth, then perhaps there was hope that Smaug could be persuaded as Bilbo seemed to think he had to do. 

When Bilbo had asked his most important question, how on Middle Earth was he supposed to persuade a great dragon with clear malice for any who would come for his treasure, Gandalf did not have an answer for him. 

And thus Bilbo was quite shaken. They had set up camp on the ledge Thorin believed the secret door was on. They were not exactly sure how close Durin’s day was. They believed they had arrived before it but they were not sure how soon before it. Bilbo thought the waiting was the worst punishment the journey could have given him. 

He attempted to act normal. He was coroused by the Company for his and Nori’s plan and heartily worshiped by Fili and Kili. Dori was quite distraught with Nori and Bilbo for dragging Ori into the entire mess but the grey haired dwarf was forced to calm down when Ori gave quite the speech on how he was no longer a dwarfling. 

Balin had attempted to speak to him about his plan when he faced the dragon. Bilbo was despondent when he told the white haired dwarf in no uncertain terms that he had no idea what he was going to do. 

Bilbo’s mood as the days went on grew more and more anxious and depressed. 

He could feel the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders and the knife of fate at his throat. If he failed, the world would fall to ruin and war. And even if he somehow figured out a way to keep the dragon from killing them all and the dwarves from killing the dragon, Bilbo would still have to journey to Mordor to return the Ring to whence it came. 

He had felt a sense of triumph when he had seen the Lonely Mountain from Long Lake. But now he only felt fear and defeat. He was but a small hobbit. Bilbo knew his powers had grown but what could growing things do to help tame a dragon? He hadn’t practiced much with taming animals or anything of the like. It wasn’t like he could really communicate with any other animals except maybe Beorn’s. 

His ability to get song birds to sing for him seemed a far removed and useless ability at the doorstep of a dragon. 

The evening of what they all believed was Durin’s Day, Bilbo’s melancholy and tension had reached a peak. He sat on the furthest rock he could find from where the Company was gathered. In his palms, he held a sprig of some mountain plant he had seen growing around their camp. It was small and a dark green and each time Bilbo focused on it, he made it bloom little white flower buds. 

He vaguely noticed someone come to sit at his side. The Company had each taken their turns trying to pull their hobbit from his stupor but eventually they would all go away when he didn’t respond or gave one word answers. 

However his current visitor had not tried his hand at Hobbit therapy yet.

“Master Baggins?” Thorin’s gruff voice surprised the hobbit enough for him to look up. 

“Master Thorin.” Bilbo’s voice was croaky and he cleared it as he looked back down at his hands. “Have you found the door?”

The dwarf frowned. “We have not. But as there were moon runes on the map, Balin suspects the light of the moon tonight might be what shows us the door.” 

Bilbo nodded. “Balin is the smartest of you lot.” The joke was dry but it was more than the Hobbit had said in the week they had been camped on the Mountain side. 

“Indeed.” A silence elapsed and Bilbo thought that would be the end of it, for the dwarf next to him was not much for words either. Thus he was surprised when Thorin began to speak.

“Before battle, it is a general’s duty, a leader’s duty, not just to have the strategies and the planning configured to the last infantry and archer, but to also assure that his warriors go into battle ready. With morale high and a burning in their chests for the cause. It is something I was taught is more important than any sword or axe. An army may have the greatest warriors with the sturdiest armor and sharpest weapons, but if they are not sure of what they are fighting for or they do not believe they will win, then the battle is lost before it has begun.” Bilbo looked up at the dwarf but the King was staring into the horizon where the sun shone over Smaug’s desolation.

“I was once a foolish young prince fleeing these lands with my people, unsure of what to do. I listened to my grandfather and father’s madness and we attempted to take Moria. But even dwarven hearts are only so strong and our men believed we were leading them to a slaughter. And so we were.” The dwarf cleared his throat.

“You have been tasked to save this worm from my and my people’s vengeance. I was angry. And I had every intention of foiling your plan. Of taking the dragon’s blood for my own. But I realize now that I would be doing you and this quest a disservice. If it is the Valar’s wish that the dragon Smaug survive, who am I to rebel against their will?”

“I have also decided that since I am not your King and only your leader in this quest, I cannot instill in you the morale I would my warriors. For though a warrior you are, Master Baggins, you are also a being of soft growing things and peaceful hills.” Thorin reached over and took the sprig from Bilbo’s grasp and held it gently to the setting sun. “For you do not crave glory or gold. You crave only to see your friends safe and to return to your pleasant Hobbit hole.”

He handed the sprig back to Bilbo who was quite in awe and wonder of not only the King actually speaking to him in so many words but also of the thoughtfulness that was behind this speech. The dwarf continued, this time looking the Hobbit in the eyes. “And I believe that is why you were chosen by the Valar to accomplish these great tasks. You are one of the bravest, most selfless beings I have ever known, Bilbo Baggins. Your small size and your fear have never stopped you from trying. You have been an invaluable help to this company in more ways than one and oftentimes the one being who has given everyone else the morale to keep pushing forward with your wit, smiles, and flowers.”

The dwarf clapped a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. “Though you may not believe you can do this, face this worm, I believe and your friends believe that you will succeed.”

With that the dwarf stood and went back to the Company, leaving a quite flabbergasted and teary eyed hobbit in his wake. Bilbo scrubbed at his face with the sleeve of his tunic and looked down at the little mountain sprig. 

His fear was still very much there. He still did not know what he was going to do when he entered the mountain. But by the Lady, he felt that burning in his chest for their cause stoked anew by Thorin’s words. 

He would do what he did best. He would improvise and he would go courageously into the mountain. With not the weight of the world on his shoulders, but the weight of his friends’ hands, holding him steady. 

So when the light of the moon indeed revealed the door and Thorin slotted the key into the keyhole and the door was opened, Bilbo stood from his spot away from the company. He walked forward and received encouraging pats on the back from some of the dwarves. Dori surprised him by wrapping him in a bear hug. As did Gloin. Bifur signed for him to be safe and blessed by Mahal. Oin patted his shoulder and told him he would be there to patch him up no matter the way this turned out. The boys, Fili, Kili, and Ori, wrapped him in a puppy pile and Bilbo felt that warmth in his chest grow brighter. For indeed, it was the thought of his friends and their safety and restoring them to their home that gave him strength. 

He received a nod from Dwalin who peeled the clinging young ones from him. 

Bilbo straightened his leather traveling armor and both his scabbards one last time, walking to the entrance. He felt a strange feeling like his mother was there with him in that moment. He could picture her tightening his bracers and smiling, telling him he was her brave, little adventurer. 

The hobbit turned away from the dark doorway and took what may be his final look at the outside world. The Company was gathered around him and he took strength from them. Thorin was closest to the door and he held out a torch for Bilbo to take with him. 

Bilbo smiled and thanked him and with that stepped into the mountain. 

Chapter Text

Bilbo walked into the darkness until he could see a faint glow. Thorin and Balin had told him that the passage would continue on straight into the treasury, straight to Smaug. 

The hobbit did his best to remain as quiet and unnoticeable as possible, even setting the torch in a long since used brazer far enough back from the entrance to the treasury that it could not be seen. 

He moved to the entranceway. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. His breaths were coming fast and he tried to soften them. He steeled himself and took his first look into the room. 

Room was hardly a word for it. The treasury ceiling was at least fifty meters tall. It was as wide as Hobbiton. Where there would be homes and hills, there were instead piles upon piles of gold and gems. Bilbo was quite taken aback as he understood there was a lot of gold in Erebor but this seemed more than any people could surely need. The dwarves could live off this gold for the next millennia and likely have some to spare. 

No wonder it drew a gold loving drake, Bilbo thought to himself. 

But of that drake, Bilbo could see neither hide nor hair. The hobbit was somewhat confused and stepped a little bit in the treasury. He could not see the beast anywhere. Then he noticed one of the mounds lifting and falling, ever so slowly. A mound quite close to the entrance. 

Bilbo froze. 

For indeed, the drake was there. 

And its one great eye was staring right at him. 

Bilbo trembled as the beast rose from its hiding place beneath the wealth. His eye stayed trained on Bilbo even as his head rose some twenty five meters into the air. As he flared his wings, he hardly had enough room to stretch them to their full length. His torso was long and snake-like, his tail longer still. 

The hobbit was overwhelmed by the sheer size. For even though he had prepared to come face to face with Smaug, the real thing was far more terrifying than even his worst nightmares.

Bilbo fell to his backside as Smaug’s head suddenly dropped low, a mere few meters before him and eye level as best the large dragon could be with a small hobbit. 

Its golden eyes pierced Bilbo's soul and the hobbit thought for sure he would die here.

“You are very tiny for a thief.” Smaug’s voice was low and much softer than Bilbo had expected a dragon’s to be. He gulped.

“Not a thief.” 

The dragon blinked at him and the sides of his jaws seemed to turn in what had to be a serpentine smile. “Well, Not-A-Thief, what have you come here for?”

Bilbo took a deep breath and stood, dusting himself off. “I-” he cleared his throat. “I am here on behalf of the Valar. On behalf of Lady Yavanna.” The dragon’s eyes widened a fraction and his head seemed to sway back.

“The Valar, ay?” He snorted and a hot jet of air ruffled Bilbo’s curls. “The Valar had forsaken dragons long ago. Why have they sent a little mouse to speak to me now?” One looming and viciously sharp claw came forward to poke Bilbo in his chest. Even the light tap sent him stumbling back and left a knife sized hole in the outer layer of his chest leather. 

“Not a mouse either.” Bilbo said as he caught his balance. “I am here to make sure that the dwarves outside do not kill you and you do not kill them!” Smaug’s head rose and he bellowed a great laugh.

“I thought I smelt the stink of dwarf on you, little mouse! You believe your conspirators outside could harm me? Me, the largest of all dragons left in this world? Me, the lone dragon able to conquer the greatest dwarven fortress in Middle Earth? Me,” He thunked a balled fist against his chest and it clanged like steel meeting steel. “Whose armor is impenetrable! My teeth are swords, little mouse. My claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!” As the dragon went on with his boasting, Bilbo attempted to think of what he could say to such a vein and vengeful beast that would make this all end peaceably. He was at a complete loss. 

“What was the Valar’s plan then, little mouse? Hm? Send you and your filthy dwarves here and ask me politely to leave my hoard?” The dragon seemed to be quite amused and had laid his head back down before Bilbo.

The hobbit frowned. “Well I don’t suppose that would work, would it?” 

The dragon snorted again. “No. I will not give up what I rightfully conquered. What are you then, hm? Not a dwarf nor any creature I’ve ever come across. A Maia perhaps? Like the wizards and dark lords of old?” 

Bilbo shook his head. “I am no great being, no dwarf, nor elf, nor man. I am but a hobbit.”

“A hobbit?” The dragon took a deep inhale. “Beneath the stench of dwarves, you smell of the lands far to the West. Of greenery and springtime.” 

“I was blessed by the Lady Yavanna. She bid me come here and have mercy on you.” Smaug laughed again and it was so much more booming than when he had his head raised. Bilbo covered his ears and felt a bit dazed. 

“Mercy? Mercy! On me?” Smaug laughed harder. “Oh, that is rich. Oh, little hobbit, this has been the most entertaining conversation I have had in many a year.” His head moved closer and Bilbo got the overwhelming feeling to run. “But I’m afraid there will be no mercy here.”

With that, the dragon lunged but luckily Bilbo was quicker. The little hobbit went scrambling further into the mountain. He did not want to take the chance of the dragon leaving this mountain and taking vengeance on the dwarves who waited outside. Smaug dazed himself a bit on the wall that had been behind the hobbit and Bilbo thanked the Valar for the head start.

His haired feet flew as he raced to a massive column in a row that split the hall. He dodged and weaved in and out of piles of gold. Behind him, he could hear the shifting and screeching of precious gems and metals being displaced as the dragon gave chase. The dragon was calling to him taunting him that he would never escape.

Bilbo could hardly breath and there was a stitch in his side as he made it to the pillar. He swung behind it and covered his own mouth, trying to stem his heaving breath. He heard the dragon stop moving as well and Bilbo’s skin began to crawl.

“Oh, hobbity hobbity hobbit, where are you? You cannot hide from me in my own hoard.” The dragon’s voice sounded close and yet it echoed off of every surface. Bilbo wanted to close his eyes and picture he was back home in his nice smoking chair but he knew it might be the last thing he did. 

He felt terror like no other fill his gut as a shadow was cast over him and he looked up to see Smaug staring right at him from around the pillar. “Found you.”

With speed and instincts Bilbo didn’t know he had, he grew a Stink Bomb in one palm and flung it into the dragon’s nostril. It exploded on impact and Bilbo could see the noxious green gas filling the dragon’s nose. Bilbo didn’t have time to wonder how he was able to grow a plant with no soil as he darted away. Smaug thrashed and clawed at his own nose, knocking over the pillar Bilbo had been hiding behind. 

The hobbit spotted a set of stairs and hoped he would have an advantage getting onto higher ground. He stumbled up the stairs and into a hallway that led to another set of stairs. The passage shook as it seemed Smaug was still thrashing about. Bilbo climbed higher and higher till he had a bird’s eye view of the dragon. 

Smaug had seemed to get over his shock and blew jets of steam from his nostrils, dispelling the Stink Bomb’s remains. 

“Clever, clever, little hobbit. Maybe you are not such an easy snack after all.” Bilbo held his breath as the dragon began prowling again. His wings were folded to his thin slithering back like a monstrous pair of bat wings and Bilbo had an idea. 

He ran back into the stairway and attempted to make his way to one of the pathways that crossed the expanse of the treasury. He could hear Smaug’s taunting echoing around the cavern. Some of the things he was saying, Bilbo prayed that the dwarves could not hear. Or else there would be no hope of stalling their rage and revenge.

Bilbo finally came to the path he needed and he waited for Smaug to walk beneath it. The dragon had begun shooting jets of fire into the doorways of various passages. Bilbo was thankful he was not in any of them.

The hobbit looked down at his palm and tried to do what he had done with the Stink Bomb, growing a plant without soil. He was surprised and overjoyed when it actually worked. 

Bilbo readied himself for his plan. It was foolish but it just might work. With one last prayer to Yavanna, Bilbo went sprinting across the pathway. He had thrown his hand out and from it, long thick stalks covered in long prongs were falling. They landed on the dragon, who looked back at his wings confused, and they stuck there. 

You see, Bilbo had remembered a plant his mother told him about that grew in the swamps far south of Hobbiton. A plant with long red tendrils that stuck to flies and other insects and slowly devoured them with its sticky honeydew. Sundews, they were called. 

The long train of plants he had dropped on Smaug from side to side were just these. They’re sap was nearly impossible to get off and they clung to whatever surface they touched and didn’t let go. 

Smaug seemed to realize all at once what the hobbit was doing and where the hobbit was doing it from. The dragon flipped around and Bilbo hoped he had laid enough of the sticky plants on the dragon’s back to stop him from flying. It seemed he had as the dragon attempted to spread his wings to lunge for Bilbo atop the high overpass and could not. 

“Hobbit!” Smaug kept attempting to spread his wings. Bilbo had laid enough plants to nearly cover him rib to rib but part of his left wing was still unstuck and wriggled with the worm's attempts to free himself. “What if this?!”

Bilbo felt safe enough on his high overpass to call down. “Just a plant! You are so big, it will not have a chance to devour you before the sap hardens. But it will leave you flightless for a while!” The hobbit felt rather smug for a moment til Smaug roared and let out a blast of searing flame right at him. He went running for the safety of the doorway closest to him and could feel the heat of the flame curling the hair on his feet as he slid to safety. 

Bilbo tried to catch his breath as he heard what sounded like Smaug scrabbling up the side of the cavern to reach him. He bolted down a flight of stairs and tried to make himself scarce. He had stopped the dragon from being able to fly and angered him enough that he would be intent on getting to Bilbo before trying to go for the dwarves.

But he had no idea what to do next. There was no way Bilbo could kill the dragon even if he tried. And even in the midst of this he had no idea what mercy meant if he could not persuade the dragon to leave peacefully. 

A noise from the cavern made the blood drain from his face. It wasn’t the sound of the dragon thrashing nor gold spilling. It was a dwarven war cry.

Bilbo sprinted back up to the high pathway he was on and looked on in horror as his friends came running out of the passageway. Smaug too had seen them from his vantage point toward the back of the cavern where he had been searching for Bilbo in the various doorways. The dragon looked at the hobbit before showing his fangs in a cruel smirk. 

“You may be clever, hobbit. But your dwarves are not.” With that, the serpent leapt down from his perch and began stalking towards the dwarves. Bilbo screamed for Smaug to pay attention to him instead but the dragon was solely focused on the dwarves. 

Thorin and Dwalin were at the head of the charge. Kili, Ori, and Nori had gone running to find vantage points for their long range weapons. 

Bilbo stared in horror as the dragon passed under him and was a mere dozen meters from the company. They would all be slaughtered.

His friends could not die here. 

In a foolish, hail mary move, Bilbo took a running leap from the overpass. He had a moment that seemed frozen in time where he could see the dragon’s head below him. He could see the looks of shock and horror on the dwarves' faces. He had pulled out his swords before he leapt and he had each of them pointed down. 

He apologized to Yavanna as his swords plunged into the soft flesh of the dragon’s eye.

Smaug let out a roar of agony and shook his head. It took everything Bilbo had in him to hold on. His swords were embedded deep into the dragon’s eye socket. He took the chance to let go of one and in his hand, he grew the most poisonous plant he could think of.

With a yell of frustration and sorrow and effort and all the emotions Bilbo was feeling in his veins, he shoved a fist full of oleander deep into the wound. His forearm was slashed wide open by his own sword as Smaug howled and screeched. Bilbo held his hand in the dragon’s eye and clenched his own eyes shut as he grew more and more oleander straight from his palm into the wound. 

It seemed he would give his life here. He had failed to finish Yavanna’s tasks but he had saved his friends and seen them to the mountain. That would be enough. 

He felt the sting and burn of the oleander entering his own blood stream. He would die here with Smaug and that would be the end of it. He wondered what might happen with the One Ring. Would it stay forever in his pocket and be buried with him? Would Gandalf and Beorn succeed in defeating Sauron and there would at least be no one to look for the One Ring? 

Bilbo felt the dragon beneath him begin to seize. He could feel his own body beginning to tingle and burn from his arm. He looked up at the company as the dragon’s body began to fall to the wayside. 

He met Thorin’s wide blue eyes and wished he could’ve seen the dwarf King crowned. He wished he could’ve seen Bifur and Bofur open their toy shop and Bombur his restaurant. Perhaps Nori would have gotten on the straight and narrow, though it wasn’t likely. Dori would have opened his tea house. Ori would have gotten to explore the Great Library of Erebor he had been so excited for. Fili and Kili would grow and become the great Princes he knew they could be. Gloin would have seen his son and wife and Oin would have become head healer of the mountain. Dwalin would of course remain Thorin’s personal guard and Balin would be his personal advisor. 

Bilbo felt his body seize as well and his vision was fading. Everything hurt and the dragon beneath him seemed to also be in his death throws. 

His world went black.

Chapter Text

One moment Bilbo was closing his eyes and thinking he had failed. The next he was opening his eyes to find he was back in Yavanna’s meadow. He blinked and looked down at where his arm should be sliced open. Instead of the wound, there was a long pinkish scar. 

The hobbit stood as he saw a familiar figure approaching him. 

He bowed to her. “My Lady.”

Yavanna looked at him, her eyes a bit mysterious and her expression unreadable. 

The hobbit felt a bit awkward. He had failed her and he was unsure of what to say for himself. But it wasn’t for himself was it? It was for his friends that he chose to fail. “I cannot be sorry. For I would be lying.” Bilbo said quietly and looked down at the ground. 

There was a long moment of silence before he felt her warm hand on his chin, turning his face up to look at her. He was surprised to see her smiling fondly at him with dimpled cheeks. 

“My sweet, dear Bilbo, I would not have chosen you if I had not known the lengths you would go for your friends. I admit I had hoped you wouldn’t give your life before your tasks were complete but I had thought it was a possibility.” Her honeyed voice was light and sweet. Bilbo felt a bit wrong footed.

“You mean you thought I would fail?” Bilbo frowned. Yavanna laughed like the sound of windchimes and shook her head. 

A voice behind her spoke, “My wife simply has backup plans for her backup plans.” Mahal stepped into Bilbo’s view. His face was stern and gruff looking but after so long spent with Thorin and Dwalin, Bilbo could see the fondness and amusement in his eyes as he looked at his wife. Yavanna waved a dismissive golden hand at her husband before turning to Bilbo again.

“He’s not wrong, though he does love to tease me.” Her emerald eyes were sparkling at Bilbo and he felt a bit of a smile tug at his own face. 

“Well, then I suppose my journey is not at its end?” Yavanna smiled back and nodded.

“Indeed, it is not. When you were here last, I took a little bit of you to keep with me. In case you found your way back to my garden before your work on Middle-Earth was finished.” She raised a hand and a small orb of gold and green formed above it, it shone and flickered and moved like a bird caught in a cage. “If I give this back to you, you will return to the land of the living. But you will be changed. When I took this piece of you, I hadn’t realized that in keeping this piece of you here in my garden, I would have changed it. But it seems the ambient magic in my garden has affected this piece of your soul. When you return, your abilities will have grown, your life span will possibly be lengthened, far beyond the life of a normal hobbit. You will be something between a Chosen Child and a Maia.” Bilbo frowned. He remembered Gandalf saying the Maiar were what the wizards were. Bilbo was somehow growing used to finding out new things about himself, however bothersome or fantastical they may be. He thought he should be more bothered by his soul being divided and changed but he found he was just mildly surprised. But that was besides the point. He had failed in his task. 

“My Lady, what of Smaug? I don’t believe his death was very merciful.” Bilbo shuddered at the remembrance of the gruesome feeling of shoving his hand into the dragon’s eye. “I’ve not even any idea how I could have saved Smaug. What had you even intended on me doing?”

Yavanna frowned. “To tell you the truth, for all my planning, I had left that up to chance. I had believed that the calming effect of a Chosen Child would keep him from attacking you. But when I watched the wargs attack you shortly after you were here last, I realized you were not affecting dark creatures the way you should. They should not have been able to attack you. It should have been against their nature to attack you.” She looked at the orb in her hand. “It is my hope that when I restore you to your full self, you will be protected from all of Morgoth’s creations. Though, since this piece has been changed, I cannot say how exactly they will react.” Bilbo frowned at the goddess and crossed his arms.

“You mean to tell me you sent me into the dragon’s lair with full knowledge I didn’t have the tools to complete your task?” Mahal seemed to take offense to his tone and moved to tell Bilbo off but Yavanna raised her unencumbered hand. 

“No, darling, my little flower has a right to be upset. I made a… miscalculation.”

Bilbo’s jaw dropped. “A miscalculation, she says.” He rubbed his forehead. He actually felt quite exasperated with all this. He was dead. Or some version of not living. He’d just fought a great bloody dragon for the Valar’s sake. He had no idea what had become of his simple hobbit life growing tea plants. Now he was fighting fire drakes and he was quite exhausted. He looked up at the goddess and it seemed she could read his thoughts.

“I know you are tired, little one. I promise at the end of all this, you will live a long happy life. After the Ring is destroyed, you may take your abilities and your extended life and do with them what you please. This I promise you.” Her voice was sincere and loving.

But Bilbo got unimaginably angry in that moment. “You lie to me? After all of this? You lie to my face?” His little fists balled and he felt his face twist into something nasty. Yavanna seemed taken aback and Mahal had moved a hand to his battle axe. The goddess once again raised a staying hand to her husband before looking at the hobbit with confusion and concern. 

“I have not lied to you, Bilbo. I would not do so.” Bilbo blinked at her and shook his head, one finger coming up to point accusingly at her. 

“You promised Thranduil I would give my life to heal Mirkwood! How can I live out a happy life if I know I must die for that coward’s forest.” Silence met his statement and the air seemed to raise in temperature. Bilbo watched in mute horror as Yavanna’s hair flared around her and her delicate features twisted into something fearsome and nightmarish. 

This time Mahal was the one to walk up and place a cautious hand on her shoulder. He took the piece of Bilbo’s soul out of her hand as the goddess turned her back to him and Bilbo. She stomped off a ways and Mahal and Bilbo gave each other a concerned side eye. 

Then with a mighty yell that seemed as if it couldn’t come from such a beautiful creature, she threw her head back and a great shockwave of raw energy burst from her. Mahal leaned down and put his back to her, shielding Bilbo from the blast. It ruffled his hair and smelled of drought and the dry hot winds of summer. Bilbo’s ears even began to feel a bit sunburnt. The two waited in that crouched position for a moment, Mahal whispering to Bilbo that it was best just to let her get this out. 

She came walking back to them, straightening the circlet around her head and dusting off her white linen dress. She coughed delicately and smiled at Bilbo.

“I’m sorry about that, my little flower. It seems there has been a misunderstanding.” She took Bilbo’s piece of soul back from her husband and looked down at the hobbit. “I made no such promise to Thranduil. It amazes me how his ego consistently brings about his own sorrows. This time around you were not the only mortal I had contacted to try and change the fate of the world. I had given him visions of what Greenwood would become if he allowed the darkness in Dol Guldur to fester and he remained ambivalent or outright ignored me. His forest’s rot could have been avoided and yet he turned a blind eye. And then he lies to you in my name! Attempting to send you to your death under my name!” The air started to burn like an intense sun again and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“So I don’t have to heal his forest?” Bilbo was hesitant to be hopeful that his death was not fated and he may actually have an after afterall. 

Yavanna smiled at him. “No, dear, you will not. I only ask you complete the three tasks I have given you and then you are free to live as you wish. You did well in sending Smeagol to my garden.” She smiled and waved a hand and an image of two hobbits on a small boat with fishing rods appeared. Bilbo instantly recognized Smeagol’s bright blue eyes. He looked happy and healthy, like a normal hobbit. He was plump and had a full head of dark brown curls. He was laughing and jostling the other hobbit. Bilbo felt a deep sense of accomplishment and warmth in his chest. He looked up at the goddess as the image dissipated.

“What of Smaug?” Yavanna frowned at him and looked over at Mahal. The dwarf raised an eyebrow at her and she huffed.

“That… is a little more complicated. You see, as a creature of the earth, Smaug would be welcome in my garden with his kin. The first dragons that lived long before the First Age and were untainted by Morgoth’s dark hand are here. But any dragon since Morgoth’s corruption has lost their passage to my fields. I had hoped that coming in contact with you would cleanse the rot from his soul. But, well, you see how that played out.” Bilbo raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her and she laughed. “I must call for a conspirator of mine. She will know what to do.”

Mahal stiffened and looked at his wife. “A conspirator? Who else have you told of your meddling?!”

Yavanna looked over at her husband and gave him a charming smile. “Hush. Hold this.” She handed him Bilbo’s soul piece again and walked a little ways off. Mahal’s eyes trailed after her and he muttered under his breath something that Bilbo couldn’t catch.

The glowing goddess waved a hand and shoved it forward. It seemed her sunkissed skin disappeared into nothingness. Bilbo watched in awe as she pulled her hand back and another much paler hand came out clutching hers. Slowly, another goddess, for she had to be, appeared with long flowing silver hair and skin so pale it looked blue. Her eyes were a bright milky white with no pupils that made Bilbo shiver a bit. 

When she was fully materialized, the two goddesses shared an embrace and Yavanna pulled the newcomer over.

“Yavanna-” Mahal began but the woman held her hand up. 

“I know. I know. I will explain later.” Yavanna looked down at Bilbo. “My flower, this is my dearest friend, Nienna.” Bilbo looked up at the goddess. She was equally as beautiful as Yavanna but in a different way. She was like the moon to Yavanna’s sun. Her white eyes seemed to hold endless sadness and her cheeks looked permanently tear stained. Her facial expression was soft and welcoming however. Bilbo bowed to her and she nodded her head to him. “She’s not very talkative but she is very powerful in ways much different from mine. You see she is the Weeper, the Lady of Mercy. She and I,” She looked at Mahal who was giving her a very disappointed look. “Well, let us just say, my plans are not all entirely my own. Though I was the one with the ability to create you to act as the catalyst for our plans.” 

Bilbo thought that the idea of mercy made a bit more sense now. But. “I still don’t understand. What of Smaug?”

“You see, Nienna is special among the Valar. She is not a being of material or elements. Not of water, earth, or sky. She is a feeling, an immaterial force. The abilities I have given you to heal, or even that I possess, are a mere penance to her abilities. We will turn back the spindle of time just a bit. Returning you and Smaug. And then, with your restored soul, you may cleanse him as I had planned. And thereby-”

“Carry out my mercy.” Nienna’s voice was watery and soft. She crouched down in front of Bilbo, her long silver hair like a waterfall around her shoulders. As she leaned close to Bilbo, he could see her eyes were not truly all white, her irises were a pale, pale lavender and her pupils a pale, pale grey. She looked at him and Bilbo felt as if she looked through him. She held a wispy hand out to a silent Mahal. He passed her Bilbo’s soul piece. 

“Close your eyes.” Bilbo hesitated and he glanced up to Yavanna. She gave him an encouraging smile. 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A moment passed and then he felt a cold hand pressing into his chest and a cold pair of lips pressing against his forehead.

There was a rush like ice through his veins then a flood of sunlight warmth and he felt as if his body had suddenly liquified and solidified all at once. 

In a second, he was in the heat of battle. He was back in his seemingly slow motion fall towards Smaug’s head. The dragon’s maw was wide open, his chest filled with light to unleash a murderous wave of fire. Bilbo let go of his two swords. He felt teeming with sunlight and growth and warmth. Was this what she had meant by he would be changed?

He landed on Smaug’s head with a grunt of pain and quickly fumbled to grab onto a spike. As soon as he had touched the dragon, it was like the beast had been paralyzed. Smaug fell to the floor, crashing through treasure in a loud clatter. A spray of coins hit the dwarves ahead of them but Bilbo had no time to check if his friends were alright. 

Bilbo slid down Smaug’s snout til he could stand and look into the dragon’s eyes. They were open and staring fixedly at him. The jaw beneath him moved as Smaug spoke.

“You. You are golden.” Bilbo looked at his hands in confusion only to find indeed he was glowing a golden color. Like Yavanna. He looked back at the dragon. 

“You won’t believe the trouble I’ve been put through to get here.” Bilbo said a bit wryly. 

“Why here? Why me?” The dragon’s tone was so different from before. Thick and almost inebriated sounding. No longer the booming roar of before. 

“Why me, indeed.” Bilbo smiled and he found he knew what he had to do. He walked a bit forward til he could press a hand on the thick leather between Smaug’s eyes. He closed his eyes and he could feel the taint of darkness in the dragon’s mind. It was sickly and slimy and like tar against his senses. He breathed slowly and thought of the bright light of Yavanna clearing the shadows. Of her sun and warmth and of growing things. 

Warmth filled him and it flowed into Smaug. But then the illness in Smaug seemed to rise up. It fought against him. It felt like thick, searing magma against his own warmth. There was a sulfurous taste in the back of his mouth and Bilbo heard himself cry out as the intense burn seemed to fill his body. And then he could feel Lady Nienna’s cold. It was a balm to the feverish heat and suddenly the illness was gone from Smaug.

Unbeknownst to Bilbo, he and the dragon began to glow with such a force that the dwarves had to shield their eyes. It filled the large cavern with the winds of summer and the impressions of happiness and plentifulness.

Time seemed suspended and then with the sound of rushing winds and Yavanna’s laughter, the light dissipated. The dwarves rubbed the spots from their eyes and looked to find their Hobbit in worry.

Their hobbit was sprawled on the ground and the dragon was nowhere to be seen. 

The company was frozen in shock except for their King. He went running over to the small fallen figure and went to his knees. He bent to check for signs of life and was relieved to see the hobbit was breathing softly. There was even a small smile on his face.

Chapter Text

Bilbo slept for a week after that. Oin had directed the dwarves to set up a soft bed for him of their furs. The company was in a state of disbelief and awe at their hobbit. They battled their worry for their friend with their trepidation of the immense power their hobbit seemed to hold. For in their eyes, their hobbit had taken on a dragon all on his own, vanquishing it in a bright blast of light. The only two who seemed indifferent to the event and solely worried about Bilbo were Nori and Peaky, though neither were allowed to be at the hobbit’s side. 

The company asked Nori many questions as he was the closest to Bilbo and knew the most about the hobbit’s abilities. But the thief was tightlipped and had gone off on his own to begin exploring the mountain. Though, Nori snuck back regularly to check on Bilbo without alerting the others. He’d had enough poking and pestering for answers he did not have.

The company was hesitantly leaving the treasure room in groups to explore their lost home. It was now a home of ghosts and corpses. There was much sorrow and solemnity as they found bones and the traces of the life that had teemed here before. Bones were brought down into the treasury in a cleared area to be cleansed when there were Dwarven priests to send them to their maker’s halls. Dwalin, Bifur, Gloin, and Bofur were inspecting the various entrances in and out of the treasury for stability. They’d made quick work of searching the mountain’s various exits.

The grand doors of the mountain were still shut tight. It seemed the only way in and out of the mountain was the secret door and the main entrance. Which suited the dwarves just fine as they could easily keep eyes on the main entrance and the secret door to prevent any possible infiltrators even with their small number. Thorin and Balin had set about taking stock of their hoard and how much of the ancestral relics of their people had survived the dragon’s occupancy. Fili and Kili were a whirlwind of excitement, running in and out of the twisting labyrinth of treasure.

Dori and Ori, because of course Dori would not let his little brother off on his own, were taking pains to clear the route from the treasure room to the Deep Library. Ori was absolutely besotted with the idea of reading the tomes in the King’s personal library where all the most valuable and oldest scrolls were kept. 

Thorin had sent word immediately with the ravens that had remained on Ravenhill to Dain in the Iron Hills and to Dis in the Blue Mountains. Dain would rally quickly and be to the mountain to help with clearing and readying for winter. Dis would gather their people and make their way to the reclaimed Erebor in the spring. 

When Bilbo did wake, Oin was at his side. Bilbo felt very out of sorts and it took him a moment to remember what all had happened. He sat up in a rush to search for Smaug’s body and his head swam from the quick movement. Oin fussed at him and laid him back. 

“I’ve no idea what kind of witchy hobbity magic you performed but it was taxing on your body. Rest or I’ll make ya.” Oin grumbled and tucked Bilbo back in like a particularly rough nurse maid. The hobbit couldn’t help the smile even as he grumbled about not being a fauntling. 

Once the healer seemed content with his bed linens and a good check over, Bilbo asked, “Master Oin, what happened?” The old healer looked at him from under his bushy brows and harrumphed. He sat wearily on a chest that seemed to be serving as his chair. 

“Laddy, I’ve truly not a clue.” He pulled out his pipe and lit it, refusing Bilbo with a glare when the hobbit seemed ready to ask for his own pipe. “One moment the dragon was there and I’d thought for sure you’d be dragon food. Popping onto his nose like a tiny bumbling fool. Then ya both glowed with a great light. Brighter than the forges at their hottest and then, you’re on the floor, smiling like a loon and asleep for a week. So you tell me, lad. What happened?” 

Bilbo took this in for a few moments.

He thought to himself that he wasn’t quite sure himself. He remembered his adrenaline filled jump and putting his hand to the dragon’s forehead. He remembered the feel of battling with something within the dragon and then nothing. He wondered why there was no corpse of Smaug and he hoped that the dragon hadn’t been killed outright and that the Valars’ plan had worked. That the dragon was in Yavanna’s fields and there would be no more of his taint in the world. 

“You know, Master Oin. I’m not sure myself.” The healer didn’t seem surprised by this answer and didn’t press Bilbo further, simply muttering about strange Shirefolk. Bilbo was spared the swarming of his concerned friends by the healer who wielded his ear horn like a greatsword, fending them off with threats that if they taxed their hobbit, they’d too be spending a week in bed. 

Bilbo was happy to see his friends even from a distance as they all smiled and cheered when they saw him awake. Oin had chosen an alcove off away from the treasure to hide their hobbit in as to spare him the calamity of Dwarves celebrating the retaking of their home and the work that had already begun attempting to make a livable area to hold up in till reinforcements arrived.  It had only one way in and one way out yet somehow of course Nori found his way in.

The hobbit grinned when he saw Nori slip past an Oin who was taking a much deserved nap. “Nori,” Bilbo whispered. The thief gave the hobbit a look over.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine! Considering, just a bit tired still but Oin won’t let me- Ow!” Bilbo rubbed a spot on his head and glared at Nori who had just smacked him round the side of the head. “What on Earth was that for?” The dwarf gave him an unimpressed glare in return and crossed his arms. 

“For giving us all the scare of a lifetime with your idiocy! What were you thinking? Jumping on a goddamned dragon’s head? Were ya thinkin’ you’d just give him a kiss? Invite him to tea? Maybe second breakfast? You nearly sent me to the grave with that stunt!” Nori ranted in a hissed whisper, his anger and maybe even hurt clear in his voice. 

Bilbo blinked at him, shocked at this rare show of mother henning that much more belonged to Dori. “I- Well, I’m sorry, Nori. I hadn’t really time to consult you in the heat of battle with said dragon about to make dwarf snacks out of the lot of you!” 

The steam seemed to woosh out of Nori at that and the dwarf slumped onto the foot of Bilbo’s bed. He moved his head side to side as if hesitant to agree with the hobbit. “Aye.” The dwarf growled and pulled his needle from his hair to flip back and forth. 

Bilbo looked at the anxious fidgeting and frowned. He sat up to lean close enough to put his hand on Nori’s, stilling the movement. The dwarf side eyed him and Bilbo tried to put earnest into his words. “I’m sorry, Nori. I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

Nori rolled his eyes and patted Bilbo’s hand. “Whatever, you fearless ninny.” Bilbo snorted and leaned back. 

“I truly didn’t plan any of that. I didn’t really go in with a plan.”

“Of course, you didn’t.” 

Bilbo took a breath. Nori was his closest friend. Nori knew all his secrets, as few as they were. “I died, Nori.” The dwarf’s eyes swung to his and widened. 

“What?”

The hobbit rubbed his face and clunked his head back against the stone wall behind him. “I died. I went to Yavanna’s fields. I- Well, I killed the dragon initially along with myself. I arrived in her fields and she had taken a piece of my soul the last time I was there. I suppose that was her way of making sure I didn’t mess up. Though I don’t think she thought she’d need to use that back up plan so soon. She and another goddess, Nienna, they sent me back with the ability to... I guess you’d call it cleansing. I could wash the taint of Smaug, in Smaug, away. So that he may return to her garden like Smeagol. Who I saw. He really was a hobbit once. And well here I am, alive and well again.” Nori stared at him for a moment, emotions flickering in his eyes before he sighed heavily. A hand came up to rub his temple. 

“Can I hit you again? Why am I asking? Maybe it will knock some sense into you.” Despite his words, the thief made no move to smack Bilbo again. They sat in silence till Bilbo spoke again. 

“She also said-”

“Of course there’s more!” Nori cried.

“Well-” Bilbo was cut off as the dwarf raised a hand to his face in a stop motion. The dwarf then pulled a flask from his jacket and took a hardy swig. He took another then put his hand down.

“Ok, continue.” The hobbit grunted at him and kicked him with his foot to which the dwarf merely pinched his leg. 

“Rude. I’m ill!” The dwarf raised an eyebrow and Bilbo continued. “She said I’d come back different. That part of my soul being in her garden had changed it. I would return with more power, a longer life, and things she couldn’t yet foresee. I’m not sure what to make of it all.” Nori muttered something Bilbo couldn’t hear and then patted Bilbo’s knee.

“It can only be for the best. We’ll need great power soon enough.” 

Bilbo frowned. “What do you mean?” 

Nori sighed and passed his flask to Bilbo, who sniffed the open lid and shrugged, taking a dainty sip. His face screwed up to which Nori smirked at. “There’s great unrest on the horizon. One would think a dragon would be the greatest of our problems but the problems have only just begun. We have sent for our kin in the Iron Hills. We hope they will arrive before winter sets in in earnest. Winters on the mountain are harsh and howling. We’ve enough food for a month or so. Even more with your handy tricks. But we’ve not enough dwarves to actually reclaim our home. These halls will remain an empty shell without life to fill them. And thirteen dwarves and one hobbit does not a kingdom make. If word gets out that Smaug did not set off in a fiery rage to the hills then people will begin to assume either he had passed or that he has been slain. And they will come. For the treasure they know is guarded only by thirteen.” 

Bilbo frowned and took a heartier swig. “Surely not,” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “They must have more honor than to tear a home reclaimed from long wandering folk.” 

“The world is not filled with kind people like you, Bilbo. It is filled with opportunists like myself.” The hobbit nodded but still his eyebrows scrunched. 

“Very well. What is there to be done? Perhaps I can be of use. These powers must be good for something other than food. If Oin will ever let me out of this bed.” Nori chuckled and looked to the still asleep healer. 

“Well, then I’d say it’s time for a prison break.” Bilbo and Nori grinned at each other. 

When Oin woke later, it was to find an empty bed and a disappeared hobbit. Laughter and barking from far off in the treasure was his only clue as to where his patient went.

Chapter Text

Bilbo and Nori, who were quickly joined by an excited Peaky, made their way to where Smaug had been slain. Bilbo was shocked to find there wasn’t a scale left behind of the dragon. If it wasn’t for the crawling sickening feeling that lingered in every inch of the treasure, Bilbo would have never known there had been a dragon to begin with. But that sickening feeling was everywhere and it felt like Smaug’s taint. That viscous tar-like sludge that had been inside Smaug’s soul.

He mentioned the feeling to Nori but he said he could feel nothing. Peaky agreed he could still feel the dragon’s presence and Bilbo assumed that it would fade with time. 

The trio went on a walkabout to visit their company members in their assigned tasks. Along the way Bilbo told Nori of Thranduil’s lie and Nori swore to take his daggers to the Elf King personally, but Bilbo assured him Yavanna would give the elf what he deserved. 

Gloin nearly broke Bilbo in half with his bare hug as they arrived at one of the roads to the main entrance he, Bifur, and Bofur were clearing. They’d found tools in the many old workshops and mines that were accessible. They were all covered in a layer of dust but Bilbo didn’t mind as he embraced them all. Bifur signed him a particularly chastising ‘welcome back to the land of the waking’. Bilbo rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. 

They showed him their progress on the roads. They’d nearly cleared a walkable path to the front entrance. The great doors were closed but there were smaller doors that they had to reach in order to bar and also have an easily accessible exit other than the secret door. 

Bilbo marveled at the cavernous ceilings, pillars, and walkways that crossed back and forth across the main entrance hall. On the ceilings there were stones inlaid everywhere that gave off a glow of their own, casting everything in a greenish light that wasn’t reached by the sparse window-like openings to the outside of the mountain. The dwarves beguiled him with visions of what the hall looked like in its heyday. Vendors from all across Middle Earth come to peddle their wares. Dwarves in finery riding in and out onto the valley beyond. Guards in glittering armor poised on every door. Laughter and music filling the air. Bilbo could only hope he could live long enough to see the glory for himself. 

They bid the trio adieu and went in search of more of their compatriots. They found Fili and Kili next who nearly smothered Bilbo in their joy. They were frantic to tell Bilbo of everything they had seen. Tapestries and wall murals that even faded with time were a marvel. Weapons still sharp found in armories scattered through the kingdom, at least the parts they could reach so far. They said their uncle had forbid them from exploring too far but Bilbo was sure they hadn’t abided by that rule. 

His cheeks hurt with how much he was smiling. The journey had been worth it. To see this. The happiness in his friends’ eyes. To return them to a home. Their home. 

The duo went off to explore more and Bilbo bid Peaky go with them and keep them out of trouble. The dog huffed but licked Bilbo’s face and ran off after them. 

Bilbo and Nori continued on and they found Dori and Ori. The two were covered in dust and grime. They had been making their way precariously into the Deep Library. They had yet to make it there but with Dori and Ori’s ridiculous strength they were making steady progress. The stairway down to the Library from the treasure room had been greatly damaged, presumably from years of a heavy dragon’s gait on it as the Library was directly below the treasure room. Which spoke to the dwarves' secrecy of their culture. Ori was fighting back tears as he hugged Bilbo nearly as hard as Gloin. Bilbo wondered if he could help the two as he was excited to see the Library as well. But the two would hear nothing of it, stating slaying the dragon was all Bilbo would have to do for the rest of his life.

Bilbo laughed at this and Nori told his brothers not to give the hobbit a big head. 

They left them to it and found Bombur next. And the hobbit would hear no protests as he started to help the dwarf take stock of their rations. 

“Nori, I’m perfectly hale to grow a few vegetables.” The thief gave him an unimpressed look. “I just spent a week in bed, I’m restless and no one will let me lift a finger!” The hobbit stomped his foot in a way Bombur and Nori wouldn’t tell him was more cute than intimidating.

“There’s no soil down here, Bilbo. Only hewn stone. And you’re not climbing out of the mountain to find any.” Nori stated plainly. 

Well the hobbit didn’t care what they said. He thought on how he had grown a stink bomb from his hand in the battle with Smaug and raised his palm up. He focused and suddenly his hand sprouted multiple carrots. They fell from his hand like a strange orange and green waterfall. It surprised him as quickly a pile grew at his feet and he shook his hand as if to shake off the magic. It stopped and they all stared at the magically grown carrots.

“Well, that’s handy.” Bombur muttered. Nori just stepped close enough to Bilbo to thwap him across the head again, sending a lump of matted curls into the hobbit’s face. 

“Hey!” The hobbit cried and swatted at the dwarf’s hand. Nori merely shook his head and looked at Bombur. 

“Well, if he wants to work, put him to work. Fucking green hand, not a green thumb.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and faked a laugh. He brushed his curls back and frowned at their gritty feel. “After that, maybe we find a place I can get clean? At least a bucket of water and a brush. And a pair of scissors. I haven’t cut my hair in ages. I must-” He stopped at the horrified looks on his friends’ faces. “What?”

“You’ve only just begun to look respectable! You can’t cut your hair now!” Bilbo frowned at the quiet Bombur’s adamant protest. He knew dwarves didn’t cut their beards and only their hair was only trimmed for particular hairstyles. Hair was a rather sensitive topic for the dwarves. But he was a hobbit and there was nothing respectable about the rat’s nest on his head. 

And he told them just that. 

Nori promised him no one in their company would be giving him scissors to cut his hair. Bilbo let the argument go for now. Nori and he bid their goodbyes to Bombur after Bilbo grew a few more vegetables and herbs for dinner tonight. The thief took him through a maze of halls before they ended up in a strange room filled with cubbies and cabinets. Moth eaten cloth was in various cupboards. 

“Where are we?”

“The lower level’s bath house. It’s the only bath house where the water filters naturally. It won’t be warm because the forges that heat it aren’t lit and we’ve yet to be able to access them. But the water won’t be stagnant like in all the personal lavatories and higher level ones. There’s a natural river of ground water that trickles in from the stones above. It won’t be the cleanest as the water is generally churned and emptied into the drains.” Bilbo grinned at the thought of a private bath in an enclosed space. Nori showed him to some towels that had survived the bugs and to some goat milk soap that, while decayed and shriveled, would still lather. Bilbo didn’t want to turn his nose up at it but he thought he might just settle himself for a good soapless scrub. He gestured for Bilbo to take his choice of the clothes that had been abandoned in the lavatory. It was with an awkward solemn voice that he said the people who had owned them wouldn’t be reclaiming them. 

With that the thief left, to where Bilbo wasn’t sure. The hobbit set about undressing. His traveling clothes were filthy and his skin felt oily and grimy from the week of bedrest. He folded the clothes neatly and went to bathe. The bathing room was large with a central tub that looked as though it could hold a hundred dwarves comfortably. To the back he could see the water trickling from the stalactites. The whole thing seemed to be only a meter deep which was fine for Bilbo’s four foot height. The outer rim had a bench to sit on that dipped a foot below the water. He sat on it and while the water was cold it was refreshing. 

He decided to forgo his sensitivity and use the old goat’s milk soap. It felt heavenly and while whatever it had smelled like had long faded the lather itself smelled clean. He took his time and only got out when he was pruned. His curls were weighed down by the water and he realized they were much longer than he’d thought. 

He wandered into the locker area and shuddered at the thought of putting his filthy clothes back on. But the idea of shuffling through long murdered or deposed dwarves’ clothes made him shudder as well. He couldn’t decide between the two for long moments before deciding he would just put his clothes back on. He slipped them on with a wince of disgust but it was better than the alternative. He did find a strip of cloth on a bench that might have been a scarf once to tie over his head and under his hair to keep it out of his face. Like a dusty head scarf. 

As he left, he wished he had paid more attention to the way here and thus the way back to the treasury. He shrugged and set off. He made a few turns before he realized he’d gotten himself good and lost. 

It was an hour or two of wandering before he heard voices and followed them in relief. He came into a large hall with lavish furnishings and banners hanging all about. At the far end was a dais and on it stood the source of the voices. Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin seemed to be deep in discussion. Behind them were a set of large stone chairs that could only be thrones and Bilbo realized he had stumbled into the throne room of Erebor. He felt a bit hesitant to walk further. Almost as if there was a presence to the room that told him he did not belong in such grandior and importance. 

Before he had a chance to back out and go back to wandering, he was noticed. 

“Master Bilbo!” Balin cried cheerfully. The white haired dwarf strode down the few steps and across the large hall. The hobbit smiled anxiously and walked to meet him. 

“Master Balin, it is good to see you!” The dwarf swept the hobbit into an unexpected hug before tugging him up to the dais. Dwalin grunted but patted the hobbit’s shoulder in the largest display of affection he had seen the dwarf give to anyone except his brother and the boys. And of course Thorin. Who looked at Bilbo with an unreadable gaze. 

Bilbo smiled at Dwalin and Balin as the older dwarves’ hands fell from him and he suddenly felt unanchored in the king’s gaze. 

He broke the awkward tension with a cough, “I would call you Your Majesty in congratulations of your reclaiming but you dwarves are the odd bunch that doesn’t like titles.” He bowed in a flourish hoping to get a laugh or a smile from the stoic king. “Master Thorin.”

When he stood from the bow, he was shocked to see Thorin kneeling. He had one knee bent and his head bowed. Bilbo looked anxiously between Dwalin and Balin for answers but they too began to kneel. 

“Uhhh, I beg your pardon, but please stand up. This is-” He was cut off by Thorin’s soft deep voice.

“Master Bilbo Baggins. Erebor’s debt to you, my people’s debt to you, my debt to you,” With that he looked up and Bilbo was caught in his piercing blue gaze, frozen like a rabbit before a fox. “Can not be measured. You have single handedly freed my people and our home of the greatest calamity to ever befall us. You who I wronged so early in our quest. You who I looked at with doubt that you would even make it to our mountain.” Bilbo felt a bit offended at that but he could not voice it in his frozen state. “You have become the most valued and cherished member of our company. A witty riddler of trolls, a gatherer of vital herbs and sustenance, a diplomat to unshakeable elves, a liberator of broken towns folk, and a slayer of dragons. The house of Durin and the crown of Erebor pledges its loyalty to you. You will forever more be a member of the dwarven race, protected by our laws and customs. Never shall you want for anything. This I swear.” The speech came to an end and hung in the air between them. Bilbo blinked in shock as Thorin stared up at him with such intense certainty that Bilbo felt like a small ant to a stone giant. 

Bilbo stuttered for a moment before exclaiming, “Oh for Yavanna’s sake, please stand up!” He grabbed Thorin's arm and tugged him to his feet, the surprised dwarf went willingly, as if he couldn’t believe the Hobbit’s reaction. “This is far too much. You dwarves and your pomp and circumstance!” Bilbo tugged Balin and Dwalin up as well who both smiled knowingly at Bilbo. Thorin still stared in confusion at the hobbit. 

Said hobbit, put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Slayer of dragons, diplomat, liberator! Who knew you had such a candied tongue!” Thorin seemed to flush and crossed his arms. 

“It’s the correct and proper way to thank the savior of my people. You shouldn’t laugh in the face of our customs, Master Baggins.” 

Bilbo huffed, “Oh ‘Master Baggins’ it is now? I’m still just Bilbo. Bilbo of the Shire, a simple hobbit! I’ve no need for grandiose speeches and ceremony!” Balin chuckled and Dwalin looked at Thorin.

“Told you.” Bilbo glanced at him. 

“Told him what?!” 

The burly dwarf patted the befuddled Thorin on the shoulder, “We all told him you wouldn’t be wanting any pledges when you awoke. Yer just not the type. But the great fool insisted it must be done.” Bilbo was surprised the big dwarf knew him so well but he nodded in agreement and crossed his arms at Thorin.

“Foolish is the king who doesn’t listen to his good council.” The hobbit huffed and Thorin just shook his head.

“Well, a pledge you still have Master Ba-”

“Bilbo.”

“Master Bilbo.” 

The hobbit huffed again but let it go. “Bebother and confusticate you dwarves. Now, you can pledge something to me.” Thorin almost looked hopeful at that and Bilbo laughed. “Pledge to show me back to the treasury? You dwarves are like moles with your winding tunnels. My stomach tells me it's dinner time.” Balin laughed as well and put a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder to lead him back to the treasury room.

Chapter Text

The next few days were spent in a pleasant hum of cheerfulness and steady working. Aside from the telling off Bilbo received from Oin at having gone off without his clearance, Bilbo was ready to join the workforce. Gloin, Bofur, and Bifur made quick work of the rest of the way to the small exit doors at the main entrance. There they reinforced the barred locking system and the company was able to go in and out of the mountain if they needed. The trio had begun clearing out a few homes close to the treasury for the company to set up in. The company was grateful as their furs on the treasury floor were better than out on the open road but still not very comfortable.

Dori and Ori had finally made their way down to the library. Ori had only been seen for meals in days and Bilbo hoped to go down there himself soon. Once the library had been accessed, Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin had spent much of their time in there. They seemed to be planning everything from where to clear next to what the celebrations will require in the spring for the homecoming of the Blue Mountain dwarves. Dain had sent word that he was on his way and would arrive within a week's time. 

Dori had enlisted a weary Bilbo’s help in gathering as many clothes as they could find to begin mending a wardrobe for the company so that they may have changes of clothes and bed linens and the like. The gray haired dwarf insisted that they should be presentable when Dain arrived. 

Bilbo also helped Bombur with the cooking. And checked on Ori to make sure the lad didn’t become buried beneath scrolls and bookshelves. And helped Oin, who had roped in Nori, Fili and Kili, with the monumental task of attempting to separate the treasury into recognisable piles. Which meant Bilbo and the boys were directed about by shouts as Oin sat on his chest chair smoking his pipe. 

The end of the third week found Bilbo growing worried. Where when he first woke the company was diligent and hardworking, they were now lethargic and unfocused. They’d all seemed to have the color sucked out of them as the days wore on and Bilbo wasn’t sure what had happened. It had started with Nori, Oin, Fili, and Kili. 

The dwarves had stopped sorting the treasury and begun to just stare at it, touch it, muttering to themselves. No amount of hedging from Bilbo could get them to get back to work and Bilbo had originally assumed it was just tiredness from heavy laboring. But then Dori and Bombur began to do the same. Then Gloin, Bifur, and Bofur. They played in the gold and held it in manners that reminded him unsettlingly of Smeagol’s strange mannerisms. 

It came to a head when one day Thorin woke and his eyes held a concerning emotion. Something off. Something vile. He’d been quiet for a few days prior, he’d spent less time speaking with Dwalin and Balin and more time wandering the hills of gold with a strange fascination. He’d shouted one day for everyone to stop their workings and begin looking for the Arkenstone. Though it seemed none of the dwarves had been working anymore, simply fondling their gold and jewels. A fight had even broken out between Fili and Kili with words exchanged that Bilbo would have never thought to hear flung at the normally inseparable brothers. 

The hobbit looked around himself at his company and was shaken. What was wrong with them all? There were still preparations to make. Dain would be there any day and there was much to do when he arrived. If the dwarves were in this state when Dain arrived, he wondered what the Dwarf Lord would think of them. 

Bilbo and Peaky seemed to be the only two unaffected by whatever was happening. The two sat on the edge of the treasury watching their companions revel in their wealth. 

“What do you think is wrong with them?” The hobbit asked of the hound. The dog put its large head on his lap and he patted him anxiously. 

“I do not know, Bilbo.” The hound sighed. “Perhaps it’s to do with that horrid smell.” Bilbo looked down at him questioningly.

“The taint. Master Beorn once told a story of the horrible taint that dragons leave everywhere they pass. The lands rot. The animals die. The men grow warped. Perhaps it is the same for dwarves.” Bilbo hummed in response. He could still feel that foul slimy feeling of Smaug’s broken soul. Perhaps Peaky was right. But what to do about it?

The next few days passed much the same. Bilbo was at a loss at what to do. The treasure wasn’t a finite being like the dragon so he didn’t think he could cleanse it like he had the dragon. The company only seemed to grow worse. They hardly ate, they didn’t bathe. Their days were consumed with their treasure. Not a single dwarf, not even Ori, who once he emerged from the library was ensnared in the treasure’s spell just the same. 

Bilbo feared what would happen if he attempted to remove the dwarves or come between them and their gold. He knew that his friends were his friends and they’d never hurt him. But these walking corpses weren’t his friends. Peaky and he watched in vague horror as fighting continued to break out amongst them. Like warring factions claiming territory, they began to shout about their fourteenth share. To which a terrifying Thorin like a great thunderstorm declared he had full rights to all fourteenths. Bilbo was only glad it hadn’t come to blows with weapons, though fists had been thrown. 

It was with great surprise and relief that when walking out to get some fresh air, Bilbo found Gandalf and Beorn camped at the mouth of the mountain’s entrance along with surprisingly two familiar elves, Tauriel and Legolas.

The hobbit ran to embrace the wizard and skinchanger. Then the Elves.

“Gandalf! Beorn! My friends! Oh how wonderful it is to see you!” Peaky barked next to him as they greeted eachother. 

Gandalf laughed and stooped down to put a hand on Bilbo’s cheek. “My dear brave hobbit. How are you? Sit, tell me of happenings since I left you.” Bilbo smiled but shook his head.

“I’m afraid there’s no time for catching up, Gandalf.” The wizard frowned at him and Beorn absently pat Peaky. The Elves' smiles dropped as the hobbit gained their full attention. “It’s terrible! The dragon is gone and everything was fine. But then the dwarves- Well they began acting strange and now they’re absolute monsters consumed with their gold and jewels. There’s no talking to them! They hardly eat, they hardly sleep!” 

Gandalf and Beorn hummed and looked askance at eachother. It was Beorn who spoke first.

“Treasures in a dragon’s horde often hold a bit of the dragon’s power. And in the case of a beast like Smaug, that power is likely very dark.” Tauriel nodded and continued in her high tinkling voice.

“Master Beorn is correct. The dragon spent decades laying on that gold. He has likely poisoned it. The dwarves, Durins in particular, are susceptible to a madness, a gold madness. A coveting and obsession with their treasure. The dragon’s taint likely exacerbated the madness or spurred it on.” Bilbo frowned and his heart squeezed.

“What can we do?” 

Gandalf hummed and leaned on his staff. “Perhaps if we can remove the dwarves from the source they may return to their senses.”

Bilbo frowned. “You haven’t seen them, Gandalf. They’re like rabid dogs fighting for scraps. It’s as if their common sense and manners have fled. They all claim ownership over the treasure. Trying to pull them away would be dangerous.” 

Gandalf smiled at him, “Surely we, a wizard, a skin changer, the Elven King’s head captain and heir, and a Chosen Child, can handle a few mad dwarves.” Bilbo frowned and thought to himself that he wasn’t going to like whatever plan Gandalf came up with. 

Worse yet, as he looked on the setting sun, over the hills to the east, he saw what could only be Dain and his dwarves. 

“Shit.” The hobbit said. 

Gandalf looked into the distance as well, “Indeed.” 

Beorn simply laughed, “Your company is very exciting.” Bilbo gave him a withering look and put his head in his hands. Tauriel moved closer to put a hand on his shoulder.

“What are we to do? We can’t let the rest of the dwarves into the kingdom. We don’t need more dwarves to fall under the spell.” Bilbo said. 

Gandalf hummed in agreement, “We will have to alert Lord Dain of the situation. Perhaps he will have some insight as to what to do for he is of the Durin line as well. He may know something we do not. And more hands to pull the company from the treasure will do us good. A little exposure to the dragon’s sickness shouldn’t affect them in the same way living in the sick for weeks had.” The hobbit nodded. 

Legolas spoke up, “Perhaps the taint is similar to the curse in our home. Tauriel and I may be able to assist in casting it out in some way.” Bilbo looked at him with hope and noticed a bandage peeking out from the elf’s silver tunic. 

“Legolas! Your shoulder! You’re injured.” The hobbit made to fuss over the elf but he was laughed away. 

“Tis but a flesh wound. Tauriel has already tended to it. It only need heal for a few more days.” Bilbo frowned but conceded.

The group sat and settled in to wait for Dain to arrive. 

Legolas and Tauriel had already told Gandalf and Beorn of what had transpired in Mirkwood. Though they were as outraged as the next when Bilbo revealed that Thranduil had lied to him about receiving a vision from Yavanna. They all understood the grave insult that it was to lie in the name of a Valar. 

Legolas seemed particularly quiet after that, his attention straying to the forest in the distance. Bilbo made note to himself to talk to the elf alone later. It must be painful to know your father is such a manipulative liar. 

They told him that once the company had left, Tauriel and Legolas pleaded with the King to take forces to Dol Guldur but the King would hear none of it. The duo had gone off on their own then. 

They’d arrived in Dol Guldur to find Beorn and Gandalf deep in battle with shades and the wraith of the Dark Lord himself. Legolas was the only one to be injured, luckily. It seemed the shades were not defeated but weakened. Whether they returned to the land beyond or had fled to another part of the world, they did not know. 

For now that problem was moved to the back of their list of pressing matters. Though Bilbo wondered to himself how it would affect his journey with the One Ring. He was to destroy it somehow. He knew Sauron would not rest on his laurels and allow him to do so. 

The four others stared in great awe and shock at their small friend as he explained what happened with the dragon. Bilbo was saved from their stuttered and confused congratulations as Dain drew close enough that the group could walk to meet him.

The last rays of light were fading as they met at the foot of the mountain. Lord Dain was a large dwarf in glittering gold armor atop a frighteningly massive war boar. He jumped down and Bilbo was surprised to see he shared the same Durin blue eyes as Kili, Fili, and Thorin. His hair was red and vibrant, braided in the dwarves’ intricate ways with a full healthy beard. He wore a circlet atop his head in pale gold.

“Hail!” The dwarf called, raising a hand to his marching dwarves. There seemed to be at least three hundred dwarves behind him. Gandalf gave the hobbit a look as if to say what are you waiting for and the hobbit huffed in response. Why was he always the one to do the talking?

“Hail, Lord Dain of the Iron Hills,” Bilbo bowed. “I am Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.” The dwarf grinned and nodded his head. 

“Greetings. So you are the wee hobbit my cousin spoke of. He has praised and exalted you so. I had thought I’d be meeting a great warrior. But you are but a small thing.” Bilbo groaned and self consciously adjusted his head scarf. Why did everyone insist on pointing out his size? It was quite rude.

“I am but a simple hobbit, Lord Dain. I’m afraid our meeting cannot be a more joyous occasion. I have to tell you something. But for now, we should get your weary people settled.” 

“Indeed, the road was long and we marched double time this past week and a half. I have dreamed of setting my eyes on our great strong hold. I’m sure the insides need work as my cousin said, but the great bones of this kingdom will always remain sturdy. Let us enter.” Dain made to motion for his troops to continue but Bilbo shook his head furiously. 

“You don’t understand, you cannot enter.” He said hesitantly. 

Dain’s eyebrows furrowed and a bit of irritation appeared in his eyes. “Who are you to bar me from my kin’s home?” Bilbo gulped and was rescued by Gandalf, finally. 

“My dear dwarf, Master Baggins is correct. You cannot enter. We say this only for your safety. There is a sickness within the halls that has taken over the dwarves of our company. We fear you will fall under the same if you enter without due preparation.” Dain’s eyebrows raised and after a moment he nodded. 

“Very well.” The Lord turned and bid his troops and people set up camp here on the side of the mountain. There were murmurs of confusion but no one seemed ready to argue with their lord. Dain turned back to the group. “Lead on.”

Chapter Text

Gandalf, Bilbo, and Dain made their way back to the campfire they had set up earlier in the day before the mountain entrance. Beorn, Tauriel, and Legolas had agreed to help where they could and seemed to believe patrols around the mountain were necessary. But Bilbo assumed it was for lack of anything else to do and a need to feel useful in the tense air around the mountain. 

As they sat, Bilbo took a deep breath. “Lord Dain, as Gandalf said, there is a sickness in the mountain. Specifically, I believe, the treasure room. My friends are merely a shell of themselves, besotted with the gold and jewels.” Dain leaned back at this. His eyes held an unknowable emotion for a moment before he sighed and his posture slumped. He rubbed a meaty hand over the bridge of his nose.

“I had feared what the treasure may do to Thorin and the boys. Like their grandfather and great grandfather, they are susceptible to a gold madness. It has been passed down in the generations. Generally, there are precautions taken that the King nor Durin’s direct line spend time in the treasury. It’s a long held secret of our people that our royalty have this weakness. They can spend time crafting, forging, but great amounts of gold will cause the madness to set in.” Bilbo sighed as well. 

“But what of my other friends? I know Durin’s folks line run deep and numerous but they are just as affected as Thorin and the boys.” 

“This I may be able to answer,” Gandalf says. “The dragon’s taint may increase the potency of the madness, allowing it to bring out even the smallest amount. Dwarves have a great fondness of their craft. It may be that the dragon’s sickness has mimicked the gold madness in the others. Whatever the case, we must get the dwarves out and unfortunately restrain them away from others and the gold. Perhaps the sickness will fade with distance and time.” 

Dain nodded along. “Perhaps that may work for the others but Thorin, Fili, and Kili will not be so easy. I fear it may be too late.” There’s mourning and grief in the dwarf lord’s eyes. “Once the madness sets in, I’m afraid it never leaves. Thrain and Thror, Mahal rest their souls, never recovered. Even with months away from the gold, their madness lingered. Without the dragon’s taint. With it, I have no idea as to whether we can free them.” 

Bilbo’s heart fell at this and the campfire was surrounded by a solemn silence. 

To imagine Fili and Kili, all their light and joy and kindness, overtaken by the strange feral beings they were now. And Thorin. Stoic but kind, determined in his love and drive for his people. His hope of a kingdom and a home reclaimed to end the suffering of his people. All that washed away by the dragon’s lingering taint, by Sauron’s taint. Bilbo felt a deep anger and loss. He wasn’t ashamed as a tear welled in his eye. Even as Dain noticed it.

“You care for them greatly, young hobbit?” Lord Dain said, his gravelly voice low with a similar grief. Bilbo swiped at the tear as he replied.

“Indeed. I was moved to join their quest by their strong hearts and ideals. And to know it may have all been for not…” He stopped, unsure how to put into words the great sense of defeat by this turn of events. Like the Valar were laughing at the dwarves. Always wandering, always toiling, never to be at rest. 

Dain surprised him by putting a hand on his shoulder, seeming to implore him with his eyes. “It isn’t all for not. Even if Thorin is never in his right mind to see it, his spirit will be at peace. He will know he did it. He brought his people home. There will still be joy, there will still be an Erebor for those who have longed for it so long. You and your company have still done a wondrous thing, something to be sung of in songs for centuries to come.”

Bilbo understood the sentiment. But in his mind, it would never be the same. He wanted to see Thorin crowned. His cold shell melting in the warmth of his people. To see the boys, the golden and the chestnut, both so filled with joy, beloved by their people, true princes of Erebor. He’d imagined that once he’d finished his quest for Yavanna, had returned to his hobbit hole, that he’d journey here. He’d be welcomed by their company and feast and rejoice like they had at his table so long ago. He’d be shown around by the dwarves who already shown with pride for their memories of Erebor, glowing with it returned to its former glory. Perhaps even better than before. So many hopes and wishes for the future that may never come to fruition.

Gandalf spoke up. “All may not be lost.” Dain and Bilbo looked to him. “Perhaps we can purge the darkness as you did with the dragon, Bilbo. It may not be the same darkness as this is the darkness of the mind. I may be able to send for Elrond. His people are well versed in the illnesses of the mind. Perhaps he may know of a way to evade a life sentence to their gold madness.” He cleared his throat gruffly, pulling out his pipe to light it. “For now, let us focus on what we may do with the others.”

With that, the trio settled in to plan. Three trails of pipeweed smoke rising into the dark.

The morning brought daylight and renewed hope. Gandalf had sent a moth of all things off to Elrond. Hopefully, the long lived being would know a way to cleanse the gold madness. For now, they’d decided they would remove the dwarves from the mountain entirely. None would enter til the dragon’s taint was cleansed. Bilbo and Gandalf would be figuring out how to accomplish such a feat.

Till then, Dain had decided to move his people to the Ruins of Dale. While the wooden structures were still charred and useless but for kindling, the great limestone buildings and homes had fared better in the decades since the dragon’s attack. They would make suitable lodging til the mountain was safe for dwarves to enter. And there would likely be a better place to hold the company of ill dwarves once they found a way to remove them from the mountain. 

Which again Bilbo may be key too. He was going to try and take a note out of Nori’s book. With Bilbo no longer in the mountain, their food would be running low by the end of the week. Rather than lacing their wine with sleeping draught, Bilbo would mix sleeping herbs into a hearty meal which he would bring to the dwarves at the end of the week. With any hope, all would partake and all would fall into a deep sleep for long enough for them to be removed by Beorn, the elves, and hobbit. They couldn’t risk more dwarves falling under the dragon’s spell. 

Once the dwarves were removed, they’d be held in Dale’s jail cells. From there, hopefully they would return to their sanity. 

Bilbo waited anxiously for the week to pass, feeling he was betraying his dwarves by not acting right away. But he was assured that this was the best course of action by Gandalf and Dain and who was he to argue with lords and wizards. They’d yet to hear back from Elrond and it worried Bilbo greatly. He held hope but still. 

He tried to make himself useful around Dale. The dwarves had accepted him among them with surprisingly open arms. It seemed his tale had reached them through rumors and whispers and they weren’t their usual suspicious selves with him. Bilbo was fairly convinced Gandalf or Beorn or the elves had shared his tale of Thorin’s declaration as Bilbo was treated like one of their own. 

He helped where he could. His hands could never remain idle for long. He helped find suitable homes for everyone to settle in for now. He discovered that with the lack of trees on the mountain and plains, his ability to grow trees was a greatly appreciated boon. He wasn’t even met with scrutiny at his abilities. He spent much of his days just outside of Dale, growing trees quickly to be chopped and used as reinforcement and building supplies. He found his stamina greatly increased since his time in the Shire and even more so than when he entered Yavanna’s garden for the second time. Even still, it was tiring work and Bilbo hardly had time to worry as he fell asleep each night. 

Finally the day, they’d set for their plan came and Bilbo was anxious as he cooked their laced meal. If something went wrong, if they couldn’t get all the dwarves to eat, if the dose wasn’t enough, if they woke during transport. A hundred things could go wrong. 

He shoved these thoughts out of his mind as he, Beorn, Legolas, Tauriel, and Gandalf made their way up to the mountain entrance. The other four would wait for Bilbo’s signal that the dwarves had taken the bait and were asleep.

With a gulp of fresh air, Bilbo entered the mountain. He wondered if the company had noticed his absence in their gold lust. He would know soon enough. He entered the treasure room and was shocked to see that only Thorin, Fili, and Kili were in the room, pawing and lounging on their treasure like the dragon before them. A fear he had not even thought about struck him. Surely the three weren’t so lost in their madness they could have harmed the others. It wasn’t possible.

Bilbo hesitated at the doorway. He couldn’t see hide nor hair of the other ten dwarves. Surely, though great warriors they may be, Thorin and the boys couldn’t have taken on the whole company. 

“Bilbo,” The hobbit nearly leapt out of his skin as a whisper came from the darkness next to him. He whirled around and was surprised to see Nori slinking out of the shadows outside of the treasure room. 

“Nori!” Bibo whispered, quickly moving out of the light of the treasure room as to not rouse any attention. “Are you alright?” Bilbo looked over the dwarf and was amazed and relieved to see there was no madness in his eyes. He was a bit dirty and looked as though he needed a good bath but other than that he seemed fine. 

“Am I alright?” The dwarf hissed. “I’ve been looking for you for two days! I thought for sure they had done something to you!” The word ‘they’ was spat in a terrifying manner and Bilbo wanted to recoil. Perhaps the madness wasn’t gone. He would never fear his friend but he doubted if the madness still had him that Beorn or the others could reach him before his throat was slit.

“Nori,” He started hesitantly. “I’ve been gone for a week.” The anger left the dwarf’s face in favor of confusion then resignation.

“The madness. It had me longer than I had thought.” Bilbo was so relieved to hear the dwarf speaking sense. 

“Yes! How ever did you escape it? What about the others?” The dwarf sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Fighting broke out. Thorin, Fili, and Kili were able to lock us all in some rooms off of the treasure room. The first day I clawed at my door til my nails bled but by the second I had come to my senses enough to realize something wasn’t right. I hadn’t seen you and I feared what was going on. Today, I was clear headed enough to escape and come searching for you. The rest of them are still locked up. I don’t know what their condition may be. We weren’t locked with food or water and I don’t know if the others have been able to break out of whatever has held our minds.” Bilbo felt relief that everyone was alright, if not perhaps dehydrated and hungry but alive. 

“The gold and treasure is steeped in the dragon’s power. It has infected you all with a gold madness.” 

Nori winced at the word ‘gold’ and closed his eyes. “Yes, I feel the tug, the desire to return and bask in it. But I know that feeling isn’t my own. I’ve never coveted shiny things. Information is my treasure.” 

Bilbo smiled at him softly and put an arm around him. “Come, we have friends waiting outside. Dain is here, his forces are in Dale. We’ve put together a plan to get you all away from the treasure. The fact the only ones who might still be under the full impact of the treasure numbers only three makes this a lot easier.”

Nori nodded and allowed himself to be guided to the entrance. Bilbo explained the change in plans to the others as Gandalf led Nori to the carts they had waiting to bring the others back to Dale. 

They would now only focus on securing Thorin, Fili, and Kili. The others they could rescue once the Durins were asleep. 

Bilbo made his way back to the treasury, gathering his courage. He felt better about facing three rather than thirteen. Nori had given him some sleeping draught to mix in with some wine. Hopefully, between the meal and the wine, this would be a quick process. 

Bilbo was spotted quickly this time by the three as he walked into the treasury. He forced a smile as Fili and Kili gave him a suspicious look. Thorin looked at him with a strange gaze. It hurt to see the lack of familiarity and kinship in their eyes. But he steadied himself. 

“Greetings, I bring sustenance! It’s a great work reclaiming a kingdom. You’ve been working too hard.” Bilbo tried to act as normal as possible as he set the tray he was carrying down. There was much more chicken than the three of them could eat, Bilbo wouldn’t be partaking of course. And the wine was already mixed in a satchel at his side. He took out three chalices and the wine and poured them each a healthy amount. 

Fili and Kili seemed to look to their uncle for guidance, almost as if they knew something was up. Bilbo prayed to Yavanna as he felt the King’s scrutinizing gaze on him. He turned his smile up a few notches as he looked up, the meal all set out on the stone floor. 

“Come! Join me!” The hobbit sat down and waved an arm out. Hesitantly, the trio sat with him. It unnerved him that they hadn’t spoken yet. Like ghosts or ghouls, they sat silently and stared at the meal. “I’ve made it myself with the herbs you love so much, Kili.” He looked at the chestnut haired brother, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. The dwarf looked at him for a long moment, a lack of the spark of life Bilbo loved so much in his eyes. He reached out and took a piece of the chicken and put it to his lips. Thorin’s hand darted out and stopped him. 

Bilbo’s gaze swiveled to the King in concern and a cold fear washed over him. The King was looking at him with a great anger and knowing in his eyes. “Why aren’t you eating with us, Master Baggins?” His voice was icy and it crawled down Bilbo’s spine. His eyes were like twin icebergs. They lacked the fondness and respect the King had begun looking upon him with since their talk in the cave in the Misty Mountains. Bilbo hadn’t realized how dearly he held that fondness and respect til they were now taken away. He swallowed and smiled again.

“Oh. I’ve already eaten. I just came to share it with you.” Thorin’s eyes narrowed and Kili put the piece of chicken down. 

“I’ve never known you to turn down a meal, Master Baggins. Join us.” Bilbo’s eyes flickered to see Fili and Kili looking at him with suspicion as well, nodding along with their uncle. 

“No, no. I insist. I’m quite stuffed!” 

Thorin’s eyes blazed and he leapt to his feet, looming over Bilbo like a thunder cloud. “Have you come to poison us, halfing?” Bilbo flinched at the tone and the fact Thorin had resorted to calling him ‘halfing’ once again. This wasn’t his friend. This was the madness, he tried to remind himself. 

“Never, Thorin.” Bilbo tried to say with earnest. But Thorin only seemed to grow angrier. 

“Then, eat.” 

The hobbit’s mind frantically tried to find a way around this while still convincing them. The dose in the chicken and wine was great enough to put even Beorn to sleep. If the hobbit took some, he couldn’t say if he’d be able to fight off the drowsiness long enough for the dwarves to believe him and eat as well. 

He blinked as an idea came to mind. He made sure his smile was welcoming and sweet as he said, “Well if you insist. Though, like I said, I’ve already eaten and am quite stuffed. I’d like something light. Perhaps, I could grow myself a few light salad greens, yes?” 

Thorin glared at him. “You seem very against enjoying the meal you’ve brought us.” 

Bilbo forced a laugh and waved his hand. “You seem very intent to feed me til I’m fit to burst! I’ll just enjoy some leafy greens, shall I? Perhaps some wine.” Thorin didn’t seem inclined to sit and Bilbo thought perhaps the act of him eating may entice them. He smiled at the boys and cupped his hands. “I’ve learned a new trick you boys might enjoy! I no longer need soil to grow things! And I’ve gotten a lot stronger. Watch.” 

With a flash of green, he grew a head of romaine in his hands. He looked at the boys and smiled at the shock and wonder in their eyes. “Handy, isn’t it?” 

“Your eyes.” They said almost in unison. “They’re beautiful.” Bilbo blinked for a moment. They’d seen his eyes glow green a hundred times over. Suddenly, his chin was taken in a rough grip and turned up to face Thorin. The dwarf’s scowl was a few inches from his face and Bilbo felt a cold sweat break out on his neck. 

“Do it again.” He growled. Bilbo swallowed and tried to pull away but his face was held tight. The grip tightened painfully as he pulled. “I said, do it again.” Bilbo felt a real fear and confusion settle in his stomach but did as he was bid. He set the romaine down and grew a single carrot. He could see something flash gold in Thorin’s eyes and he thought he was seeing a manifestation of the dwarf’s sickness. “Beautiful.” The dwarf breathed as his face slackened. 

Bilbo’s confusion grew. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your eyes. They no longer glow green. They glow gold. A beautiful gold.” The hold on his chin did not loosen and Bilbo swallowed. His thoughts were frantic. He remembered his soul in Yavanna’s hand was a gold and green color. Perhaps this is what she meant by unforeseen changes. What a petty change. 

But it seemed he had transfixed the gold lusting dwarves and he hoped to play this to his benefit. He cleared his throat and smiled. “I can perform a few more tricks for you if you’d like. But first, let us eat, yes?” Thorin held his chin for a moment longer and Bilbo grew another carrot. The flash of gold and Thorin’s grip loosened. He let go and sat back. Fili and Kili were leaning across the tray of food to watch the exchange. Their eyes never leaving Bilbo’s face. 

Bilbo smiled at the three of them. He felt a drop of sweat slid down his spine. He motioned to the food and wine as he raised a carrot to his lips. With hesitation, Kili was again the first one to reach for the food. This time he was allowed to bite into it and chew. And like a spell was broken, he dug in. Fili followed his lead but Thorin still only watched Bilbo. The hobbit knew he only had a few minutes before the sleeping herbs took effect on the boys and then who was to say what Thorin would do from there. 

The hobbit quickly poured himself some wine and raised his glass to Thorin. It would be much easier to pretend to drink than to pretend to eat. “Join me in a toast to Erebor, Master Thorin?” 

The dwarf stayed still for a moment before reaching for his own wine. He took it in hand and raised it to Bilbo’s. “To Erebor.” Bilbo smiled and put the cup to his lips, letting a trickle slide down his chin and pretending to gulp. Thorin did the same and finally seemed to trust Bilbo. He dug into the food. Bilbo felt a bubble of relief.

He entertained the dwarves with a few tricks til finally the boys began to drift. Their eyelids grew heavy and their words slurred. Thorin’s hackles seem to raise again and as Kili fell backwards into sleep, the king lept to his feet. 

“You have poisoned him!” His roar seemed to rouse Fili a bit but as the golden haired dwarf tried to stand he quickly slumped next to his brother. Thorin turned his raging eyes on Bilbo. The hobbit scrambled to his feet and attempted to put distance between himself and the raging dwarf. “What have you done?” Thorin strode towards him like a hurricane and Bilbo stumbled backwards. 

“Thorin, please, I had to! You’re not well! You’ve been taken with a madness!” His words fell on deaf ears as Thorin reached a heavy hand out and grabbed Bilbo by the throat. The hobbit choked and gasped as he was raised onto his tip toes. His hands scratched at the iron grip around his neck. “Pl-please! 

“Please?! After you poisoned my nephews?! My boys?!” The words were spat at him, grief and rage heavy in them. 

“N-not poisoned! They only- only sleep!” He coughed but the grip around his neck didn’t loosen. Thorin brought his face closer.

“Tell me the antidote! I will kill you here myself.” 

Bilbo looked around frantically. But no one would be coming til he gave the signal. By then Thorin could seriously hurt him in his rage. Why wasn’t he falling asleep? Had Bilbo miscalculated the dose? Had Thorin tricked him and only pretended to eat and drink? He thought for sure he had paid close enough attention. Bilbo cried out as the hand tightened to the point he couldn’t form words. His neck throbbed and his vision felt a bit foggy, his head a bit light. 

Thorin shook him, threatening and telling him he would die for hurting his nephews. Bilbo could only think at least the dwarf was worried about something other than his gold. The hobbit thought for sure he only had a moment before unconsciousness caught him. Just as he thought he may faint, the grip loosened. 

Thorin dropped him as he brought the hand to his own head. Bilbo fell to the floor gasping, watching in relief as Thorin fought off his own wave of sleep. 

“Thank Yavanna.” Bilbo croaked, his voice hoarse as he rubbed his aching throat. The king fell to his knees then to his rear then to the floor. The betrayal in his eyes made Bilbo’s heart ache. He steadied himself that it had to be done. As Thorin fell asleep, Bilbo climbed to his feet. He stared at the Durins for a long moment. A stone was lodged in his chest. He hoped when they woke, they would understand. He had to.

Chapter Text

Bilbo was able to walk out and get the others. Though he felt in a daze. Thorin, Fili, and Kili were moved to a cart and were take to Dale where Dain would handle getting them secured. The others were found in various states of hunger and dehydration. Most seemed to have their minds about them. They all spoke of the same tug as Nori that still called to them. They attempted to make their apologies to Bilbo but the hobbit would hear none of it as he helped load them all up. 

They rode to Dale and Bilbo helped settle everyone into an area that had been quardined off as a healer station. When everyone was settled, fed, and watered, Bilbo slunk off to break down behind an abandoned home.

He sat heavily and pulled his knees to his chest. He put his head in his arms and cried quietly. That was more terrifying than the trolls, than the goblins, than Smeagol, than Smaug even. Thorin’s eyes would haunt him long into his dreams. The look of betrayal broke Bilbo’s heart. He wondered what the king would say when he woke. The princes. The princes had such faith and love for Bilbo, he knew it. What would they say? 

And Thorin’s hand print lingered on Bilbo’s throat. Gandalf had eyed it wearily and Beorn seemed fit to smack the sleeping king. But Bilbo knew that wasn’t Thorin. That was the madness. Yet still it felt like it was Thorin. And Bilbo’s heart hurt. He raised a trembling hand to his throat and concentrated on healing it so his sobs would stop scraping. It healed and felt whole again but Bilbo imagined he could still feel those fingers in an iron grip. 

He stayed there, quietly throwing himself a pity party for a long time, til the sun began to set. 

Then, as a right hobbit should do, he picked himself up, dusted off his behind, and wiped his face. There was no time for crying now. There was a cursed treasure to cleanse and a dozen and one dwarves to heal and take care of. A whole kingdom really but his dwarves were the ones that mattered most. 

Bilbo made himself presentable, tightening his headscarf. He thought he might ask Ori or Dori to make him a better one when they felt better. Or say ‘Good riddance’ to his curls and the dwarves protests and give himself a proper hobbit hair cut. But that was for later. 

The hobbit made his way back to the healing area. All the dwarves seemed to be doing well despite their ordeal. He first checked on Nori and made him promise he would stay put for the day before he went sneaking off. The dwarf only promised the night much to Bilbo’s ire. 

“Sneaky dwarf,” He said fussing over the dwarves bedding.

“Sneaky hobbit,” The dwarf returned before shooing him away. 

Next, he went to check on the noisiest dwarf of the lot, Oin. Who was hell bent on getting out of bed and seeing to the company. Bilbo merely gave him his own version of the healer’s stink eye and the dwarf grumbled but acquiesced. Gloin was doing well next to his brother, laughing at the whole matter. 

Dori and Ori were fine as well. Though Dori had a healing black eye and Bilbo wondered what that had been from. Dwalin gave him his answer as the balding dwarf glared daggers at the tailor. Dwalin looked like he’d been mauled by an Ent. He had bruises over both eyes and was missing a tooth. Apparently, Dori could be quite vicious when in the right mind to. Bilbo tried to talk Dwalin down, noting that no one had been in their right mind back in the mountain. He wasn’t sure if his words fell on deaf ears so he left the dwarf to stew. Balin was fine as well. Bilbo promised him he would see to the king and princes as soon as they woke. Though he wasn’t sure how that would be received, he’d at least report back to Balin on their condition. 

Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur were fine. Though, Bofur was whining up a storm about the fact the Iron Hills healers wouldn’t let him keep his flask. Bifur signed a rude gesture that made Bombur and Bilbo laugh as Bofur huffed. 

With most of his dwarves fine, Bilbo felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He left the healers to find Gandalf and Dain. With their company out of the mountain, now came the task of cleansing the taint from the hoard. 

Bilbo came upon the home Dain had claimed as his base of operations but only found Dain and his advisors. Tauriel and Legolas were there as well and it was interesting to see how much more fairly the Iron Hills dwarves treated the elves. Perhaps the rift between Mirkwood elves and Thorin’s people didn’t run quite as deep as the company had led him to believe. Or at least not as widespread. 

They sent him in search of Gandalf who had last been seen on the Laketown side of Dale. Bilbo waved off a set of guards Dain attempted to send with him. He didn’t need to be coddled. He’d (sort of) slayed a dragon, for Yavanna’s sake!

He found Gandalf a fair distance from Dale. The wizard stood among a contingent of Laketown men. One that Bilbo recognized.

“Hail! Bard!” He raised a hand to wave as he drew close. The man waved to him and he seemed in a much better state than Bilbo had last seen him. All the men did. Their faces looked fuller, their clothes seemed finer, or at least not riddled with holes. Bilbo was surprised as Bard clapped a hand on his shoulder with force and smiled down at him.

“Hail, my friend. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” Bilbo blinked up at him and his sincere words before smiling. 

“I’ve no idea what you mean, Master Bard.” He gave the man a wink that drew a laugh and the rest of the men nodded along. 

“Indeed, well I will have to find someone else to thank for returning my people to happiness.” 

Bilbo smiled, “Indeed, you will.” 

He was thrilled to hear that the people of Laketown had indeed risen up against the Master. He was a bit horrified to hear that the Master and Alfred’s bodies still hun in the town square but he supposed it wasn’t his place to judge the rage of a village enslaved. And Bard who was surprisingly a descendant of the last King of Dale was made head of the town as he had always gone out of his way to help his people as guard captain. 

They’d seen the campfire smoke rising from Dale and had come to investigate. Of course Gandalf, in all his foresight and wisdom, had come to meet them. It seemed the people of Laketown had the same idea as the dwarves. Now that it was clear the dragon was gone, it seemed safe to leave their water logged home and return to their great city to rebuild. 

“Master Bard, the dwarves need only stay there for a short period. We have some things to do to make the mountain hospitable and then you will have Dale.” Bilbo said when the man seemed a bit offended at the dwarves' occupation. He gave Bilbo a look and the hobbit crossed a finger over his heart. “This I swear. You will have your ancestor’s home again.” 

It seemed that settled the men’s reason for coming and they bid the wizard and hobbit goodbye with an open invitation for Bilbo to come visit anytime. Bilbo smiled at this and watched them go. Despite the trying times to come, the trying times that had passed, there were still good people and still a good deed was a good deed. 

Gandalf and he made their way slowly back to camp. The air around them was heavy and Bilbo wondered if the wizard had something on his mind. 

“Are you alright, Gandalf?” The wizard looked down at him and nodded.

“I am fine, my friend. My mind wanders into the future. A future that seems dark and foreboding.” 

Bilbo mulled this response over. “You mean the Ring? And Sauron?”

Gandalf nodded solemnly. “Indeed, I do. Sauron’s shade was strong. And even though we have fought him back I fear he has returned to the very place you need to travel to.” 

Bilbo stopped and looked up at him, “What do you mean?”

Gandalf gave him a long look. “I mean that Sauron will have returned to his seat of power. He will have returned to Mordor.” 

Bilbo swallowed and nodded. He knew this could have been the case. While Sauron would still be weakened, the dark forces he could inspire would not be. He could have another dragon, a hoard of orcs, other terrifying creatures of Morgoth. All waiting for a little hobbit to stroll in with the Ring of Power. The hobbit clenched his fist, his hand itching to go to the small pocket in his leather armor to feel the small bundle. 

“Whatever may come, Gandalf…” Bilbo tried to convey what he was feeling into words. “I feel as though it will all be okay. For I have traveled far and done much good. I still question why Yavanna has given me these abilities. But I feel all my time in the Shire with them was wasted. I can do so much more. I can help so many people. Even if its just in giving my life to see the One Ring destroyed. I know that Yavanna promises I will live to see a happy ending, a time of peace. I wonder if that peace will be enough for me after all this. I feel I am forever changed. That perhaps it is my destiny to die helping others. To meet my mother in Yavanna’s garden a hobbit she could be proud of. One that would turn my father’s feet hairs white. I am afraid but at the same time, I am not. Do you understand?” He looked up at his friend again and felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. 

The tall wizard looked at him for a long time, a number of unnameable emotions in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was softer than Bilbo had ever heard it. “I find that Yavanna could not have chosen a better being to complete these tasks. You are a mighty being, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. I trust you will know what to do. And I trust you will live to see that peace. And I look forward to seeing your happy ending.” Bilbo smiled at this and they shared a moment of quiet. He could hear the bird song on the breeze, the sound of life returning to the mountain side. 

There were many endings to come. Both happy and sad. And Bilbo thought maybe there would be some beginnings too. And he only hoped to be a part of them before his final journey began. 

He cleared his throat and put his hands in his pockets. “Enough of this melancholy. There’s a warm stew cooking in the kitchen back in Dale. I heard the soldiers waxing poetic about their cook, Milya’s cooking.” 

With that, they made their way back into Dale. Bilbo brought food to his dwarves and there was much laughter into the night. For the pain that might await once the King and princes awoke and the troubles ahead, tonight seemed to be a bubble of peace and hope. 

Chapter Text

Hello everyone!

I know, I know—it's been a minute. I am going back through my writing and editing for grammar and errors. I will be continuing this story! I have Grammarly now, so hopefully, I can fix some run-on sentences and grammar mistakes. I'll see you guys in a week with a new chapter! It's been a crazy year. I celebrated two years clean, got my real estate license, went back to school, started a business, cut ties with my toxic family, and now I'm getting married in a month! Wild. Anyway! See you next week!

Sky

Chapter Text

The bubble of peace and hope seemed to carry into the morning light. Bilbo woke on a small cot the dwarf healers had placed for him in the tent with the Company. They had all fallen asleep with full bellies and laughter. Bilbo smiled as he stood and crept out of the tent. He shook his head as he noticed one bed was empty. Nori, of course, had kept his word and only remained still for the night. No doubt out of bed and off doing whatever it is Nori does at dawn’s first light. Sneaky dwarf.

The camp was already abuzz with activity. Stone homes that had been desolate a week ago were now taking on some semblance of order. Broken furniture and scorched remains of stoneware had been removed and reused if they could be, burned if they could not. Dain’s dwarves greeted Bilbo kindly. His help in rebuilding had seemed to endeer him to them and it made the hobbit immeasurably happy. He waved hello to the passing dwarves and made his way to the great tent that Dain had as his base of command.

Inside, he found Beorn, Gandalf, and Dain in deep conversation. The hobbit cleared his throat and bid them goodmorning as their attention turned to him. Peaky appeared from around Beorn’s legs with a yip and trotted over to give Bilbo a lick. The hobbit laughed and patted the dog’s head lovingly.

“Well, if it isn’t the lad of the hour!” Dain said in a bantering manner.

Bilbo smiled at him, “I don’t know about all that.”

“Well,” Dain’s eyes flickered between Gandalf and Beorn who didn’t seem half as excitable as Dain. “We’ll likely need you to be the lad of the hour. Thorin and the boys are awake.”

The calm and pleasant feelings of the night before and this morning seemed to be sucked out of Bilbo as he nodded. “How are they?” Dain looked to Gandalf to answer and the wizard took a hearty draw of his pipe. An action which Bilbo knew meant nothing good was about to come out of the wizard’s mouth.

Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows furrowed as he spoke, “They are not well. Much the same as I would assume they have been for the past week, if not worse. Thorin was able to shove bodily through the rusted iron of Dale’s jail cell. It took six dwarves to secure him in a new cell. He is being guarded now. The boys are less violent but no less angry. They’ve been spitting curses at the guards that would have their mother Dis in a state.” Bilbo frowned and scrubbed a hand through the unruly curls on his head, adjusting his head scarf.

“There’s no change in them since being removed from the mountain then?”

Dain shook his head and rounded the table he’d commandeered as his work desk. “I’m afraid not. And the bastards won’t listen to sense. The sickness has a tight hold on their minds.” The dwarf lord put his own pipe to his lips and crossed his thick arms over his chest. “I was hoping some of your magic may help them see sense. Considering what you did with the worm, a few dwarves should be no problem.”

“I-” Bilbo felt a lump form in his stomach. He glanced at Gandalf and Beorn but they both looked at him with hopeful gazes. “I can try.” Beorn leaned over from his crouched like position on a chair that was much to small for him.

“Little one, I had never heard of magic like what you used to put Smaug at peace. I have faith that our Mother has returned you with the tools you will need to save your companions.” Bilbo took heart in the shapeshifters words, stumbling under the weight of the large hand placed on his shoulder. Peaky steadied him and Bilbo nodded.

“Very well. Let us see.”

Though Bilbo knew his friends would be in a state like he had seen the day before in the mountain, he hadn’t expected their condition to worsen. Fili and Kili were like two vicious dogs, snarling at their guards to release them, that they would not lose their gold to filthy theives and betrayers. Bilbo’s heart broke at the site of the two usually rambunctious and happy brothers so twisted.

Thorin was far worse. Any sunlight that may have entered his cell seemed absorbed and devoured in the aura of his fury. Like caged wild cat, the dwarf paced. His chest heaved with silent breathes. His eyes, normally a brilliant blue, were like twin pools of endless darkness. They flicked from person to person that stood outside his cell, from wall to wall, opening to opening, calculating his escape. His silence was heavy and thick with rage and malice.

Bilbo’s throat seemed to pulse in remembered pain and he took a step back from the entrance to the hall that held the cells. From his vantage point, he could see the three, but they had yet to see him. The hobbit couldn’t imagine the vitriol that was being spewed at the guards by his beloved Fili and Kili being directed towards him. He did not think his heart could take it. Sturdy he may be compared to the hobbit that left the Shire, but his heart was still soft. Especially to these Durins. They were the hope of their people, the guiding lights of their company, driving them on this quest and towards their goal.

He felt his feet ache to turn and run. To not face this. It was far more terrifying than any dragon. The idea that now the dwarves would believe he had betrayed them, had imprisoned them, had stolen their home from them again. He flinched as a hand landed on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder to find Nori staring at him in understanding.

The red haired dwarf looked cleaner and more put together than he’d been last night. His expression was one that seemed to know Bilbo’s thoughts and reflect them back to him with kindness. Gandalf and Dain were behind him, Beorn having gone off somewhere with Peaky in tow. The three were giving him similar looks but it was Nori’s eyes that held Bilbo.

“Even if you cannot do anything, you will be alright.” The words were hardly a rounding endorsement and not many would think they were said with care. But Bilbo knew that from Nori, they said far more than a speech of platitudes. Bilbo took a steadying breath and closed his eyes. He steeled himself for the words that may be flung his way. They would hurt but they would not be his friends speaking. It would be the sickness puppeteering their voices. His friends would not spit venom at him or hurt him like Thorin had in the mountain.

Thorin’s words before he’d entered the mountain the first time rang in his ears.

“You are one of the bravest, most selfless beings I have ever known, Bilbo Baggins. Your small size and your fear have never stopped you from trying. You have been an invaluable help to this company in more ways than one and oftentimes the one being who has given everyone else the morale to keep pushing forward with your wit, smiles, and flowers.”

The dwarf clapped a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. “Though you may not believe you can do this, face this worm, I believe, and your friends, believe that you will succeed.”

That was who his friends were. Kind. Supportive. He just had to find them inside the madness and pull them back to the light.

Bilbo squared his shoulders and nodded to himself, stepping into the hallway. He took a few careful steps closer to Thorin’s cell. The boys were held in separate cells further back and he could see their hands clutching the iron bars as they continued to heckle their guards.

He heard Gandalf, Nori, and Dain come in behind him and he raised a hand to stop them. “Maybe it’s best if its just me. It will likely feel a lot more-”

As if summoned by his words, Thorin’s hulking form was suddenly pressed against his cell door. His cold, fiery gaze honed onto Bilbo and the hobbit felt ice travel down his spine.

“You.” The word was snarled like an orc spitting Black speech. Bilbo’s breath was caught in his throat as the king stared him down, like he was mud beneath his boot. “You! You dare show you face, halfling scum? You have betrayed me! Betrayed your king!”

Bilbo’s mouth felt like it worked on its own accord, “I thought you were not my King.”

A growl echoed in the hall, “I became your King when I honored you as a member of my people. An honor which you squandered and shat on like it was not worth more than you could have ever hoped to accomplish in your pitiful life.” Bilbo flinched at the words but stood his ground, even daring to step closer. Two paces stood between him and Thorin’s cell.

“I would never squander your faith or your pledge to me. Everything I have done is for you, for the Company, for our quest. We have the mountain, Tho-”
“Do not say my name! You are no friend of mine! ‘WE’ have nothing.” Thorin’s eyes were bulging and his nostrils were flaring. Bilbo felt his heart crack but continued.

“My King, you have the mountain. You have your people’s home back, your home back! You’re sick right now but I can make it better. I can try!” Bilbo felt his eyes water and heat but shoved it back. Thorin looked at him with the same cold eyes, like nothing would ever be warm in them again. Bilbo ached for them to be blue and quietly amused, for when Thorin’s lips did not smile but his eyes did. He could here the boys calling out to their Uncle from their cell but ignored it. The whole world seemed to narrow to just him and Thorin.

“Release me!”

Bilbo swallowed heavily and stepped forward. Thorin’s eyes widened then narrowed and a large calloused hand shot out lightning fast, grabbing Bilbo by his collar. The air was forced out of him as his chest hit the metal of the jail cell. He stood on his toes as Thorin lifted him to eye level. The hobbit felt his breathe come rapidly as he stared back.

“I’m going to try, Thorin.” Before the King could respond, Bilbo raised a hand to wrap around the King’s and reached deep inside himself, to that pulsing, brilliant gold that he had felt when facing Smaug. To the warmth and the light and the hope. He could see the reflection of his golden eyes in Thorin’s before he closed his eyes and leaned his head foreward. He snaked a quick hand behind the dwarf’s head and forced him forward as well till they met at the bars.

Bilbo felt the world truly fall away as their foreheads touched and he was suddenly dragged into a sickening, squelishing swirl of emotions. Anger. Fear. Pain. Horror. Rage. Disbelief. Betrayal.

He realized these were Thorin’s feelings. They were swamping his mind and drowning him in their depths. They were overwhelming and dark. Thick like tar. Bilbo pushed harder from his core, imagining the golden light fighting back, burning and searing the dark away. He thought he saw in his mind’s eye a figure fumbling in the dark, falling and struggling in the thick ooze. He pushed harder, imagining he was the sun, he was fire, he was heat, he was warmth, he was golden. The dark fell back and Bilbo could make out a hand in the sludge. He reached in his mind, stretching to the point he thought he couldn’t stretch anymore and then stretching further.

The dark was clawing, biting, stinging, cold like frost bite. Bilbo thought he could feel his incoporeal toes freezing and falling off, then his calves, then his knees. It ached, the pain overwhelming.

He realized it was different this time than Smaug. He did not have Nienna helping him. He was on his own. His own abilities fighting against the sickness of Durin’s madness. The madness sought to devour him too. To take and covet everything that made him gold and brilliant. Everything that made him grow, all his sunshine, all his hopes, all his love.

Bilbo fought back, feeling as though he was screaming a war cry in his own mind. The madness could not have Thorin, could not have Fili, could not have Kili. He would save them all. He would cleanse their home and stand by their side as they truly reclaimed their home. As the halls filled with their people and they were crowned once again. He would not stop fighting, never stop fighting.

He felt his body was fit to burst, his hand now just brushing the one in the darkness. It was Thorin’s. It had to be. He had to pull Thorin free.

With another great cry, he grabbed hold of the hand, feeling the tar tug harder in the other direction, attempting to pull Thorin under. To drown him in madness where he could never resurface. Were they too late? Had the sickness taken too much already? How much of Thorin was left? The real Thorin? His Thorin?

Bilbo felt tears burn down his cheeks and they splashed into the thick abyss. Like fire to oil, the tar was alight. It made a horrendous screeching sound as the world blazed in bright gold, like a thousand suns had suddenly come to Earth. The hand in his was suddenly strong and pulled at him as well. Thorin rose from the golden light with a gasp, heaving great lungfulls of air as he was suddenly standing before Bilbo. The flames, the light, the warmth seemed to lift his clothes and hair, causing it to dance around his face.

His eyes. They were blue. Piercing and oh so blue. Bilbo choked on a laugh as he watch Thorin look around himself, befuddled. The dwarf’s lips moved in words but Bilbo couldn’t hear them. He felt the tears roll down his cheeks turn to tears of joy and he clutched Thorin’s hand tighter.

Suddenly, he was looking up at the cracked stone ceiling of the jail. His body felt feverish and cold at the same time. He sucked in a breathe and thought he must have been holding his breath as it ached in his chest. Nori and Gandalf were suddenly in his vision, their faces worried.

“Bilbo! Can you hear me?” Nori said, clutching tightly at Bilbo’s shoulder. Gandalf was muttering something under his breathe and passing a hand over his body. He seemed to relax and looked at Bilbo when he was finished.

“Bilbo, my friend, can you hear us?”

Bilbo’s ears were ringing but he could most certainly hear. Speaking was another matter. He felt his tongue weighed as much as Beorn in bear form, his throat cottony and thick. He blinked rapidly.

“Thorin?” He managed to croak out. Nori frowned and looked off to the side. Gandalf rose and left his vision. He was gone for a few moments before returning, a small knowing smile on his face.

“He is fine, my dear Bilbo. You did it.” Bilbo felt a surge of happiness blossom in his chest. He wanted to sit up to see Thorin himself but his body seemed to weigh twelve tons and he felt as though he’d run the distance of Shrie three times over. Gandalf stooped and hefted him into his arms. “Come, you should rest. You’ve done enough for today.” If Bilbo could have protested he would have, but it seemed his body agreed with Gandalf as his eyes began to close. He forced them open and caught a glimpse of Thorin’s cell door, open. He couldn’t see the dwarf but is the door was open then Thorin must be fine. He settled into Gandalf’s great arms and allowed himself to be carried back to the healer’s tent. Though he’d deny he was so plient if asked. He wasn’t a fauntling afterall.

Chapter Text

Bilbo had been settled into his cot in the healer’s tent with his dwarves. Nori was at his side. Oin had protested greatly, stating he knew their hobbit and his ails and would be the only one to treat him. The stubborn dwarf was finally allowed to leave his bed to come tend to their hobbit. Bilbo thought the dwarven healers had allowed this just to quiet the cantankerous dwarf.

Oin puttered over him, checking his eyes and ears. Bilbo shooed him, stating he simply needed a lie-down and a hot tea. The healer huffed and grumbled but set to getting Bilbo one of his herb blends.

It wasn’t till Bilbo had a soft wool blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a warm cup of tea in his hand that the other dwarves were finally allowed to ask their questions. Ori was the first to speak up.

“Bilbo, how are they? Did you manage to heal them?” His fingers were knitting away anxiously at whatever project he was working on, the only thing the healers would allow him to do.

Bilbo smiled at his young friend and nodded. “Only Thorin for now. Gandalf brought me here before I had a chance to see my handiwork or work on the boys.” The hobbit shot a look at the wizard sat in the corner by Balin’s bed. Gandalf raised his bushy eyebrows before returning to his hushed conversation with Balin. Bilbo wondered if they were discussing Thorin’s condition. Before he could ask, his attention was drawn by the ‘well done’s of his company.

They settled into boisterous conversation while Bilbo nursed his tea. He could feel the herbs putting color back in his cheeks as his heavy limbs seemed to loosen. He was surprised he had not passed out from such heavy work. He supposed it wasn’t as strenuous on his body as killing a dragon, dying, coming back to life, going back in time, or any of the other unnecessarily astounding things he’d done on this journey.

He wondered what the hobbits of Hobbiton would think of him now. Certainly odd Bilbo Baggins couldn’t get odder in their minds. Little did they know.

A soft smile settled on Bilbo’s face. He set his empty cup down and stretched his arms high. Gandalf met his gaze and Bilbo quirked an eyebrow, as if he was daring the wizard to stop him as he stood.

Oin huffed but Bilbo waved him away, Nori falling in behind the hobbit as he left the tent. He still had his boys to cure or heal or whatever one wanted to call it.

The walk back to the cells seemed to take longer than this morning, the eyes of every dwarf on him in awe. It made heat creep into Bilbo’s cheeks, and despite Nori’s stellar glares, the crowd was not diswaged. It seemed news of Thorin’s recovery had already reached them as if the hobbit’s other oddities were not awe-inspiring enough. King-healer was going on the list, he guessed. He coughed nervously, feeling relieved when the cells came into view.

He turned the corner to the hallway and froze. Seated on the floor in front of the boys’ cells with a circle of healers fretting over him was Thorin. Bilbo felt a lump form in his throat as he took in the relaxed features, and the blue, oh so blue, clear Durin eyes. This was his Thorin, the Thorin who was kind, surly, hardworking, and endlessly passionate for his people. Not the shadow that had been there for the past two weeks. The real Thorin.

Those eyes turned and met his as if sensing his stare. Those eyes widened and then Thorin was moving, the healers parting as the King strode towards the hobbit. Bilbo blinked for a second, worried it hadn’t actually worked, and he was to be choked again. But those arms rose not in anger but to pull him tight to a barrel chest. The hobbit didn’t know what to do for a moment, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

“Thank you. I can never thank you enough, Bilbo. Thank you for bringing me back.” The rough voice whispered into his ear. Bilbo felt that lump in his throat bubble and heat his eyes. He threw his arms around the dwarf and held him tight.

“You’re you.” His voice sounded scratchy with emotion but he found he couldn’t care. He hadn’t failed. He hadn’t failed his boys or his company or his King. He’d ended Smaug’s tyranny, and he’d brought his King back from where no one had returned. The gold sickness or dragon sickness or whatever it was that had held the King was gone, and Thorin was back.

They stayed like that for a long time, til an awkward cough came from behind Bilbo’s shoulder. The hobbit pulled away to glare at Nori, who smirked back. Bilbo shook his head and then looked back up to Thorin. The dwarf’s lips were turned up at the corners in a small smile and Bilbo thought it made all the hardships worth it. This was a dwarf who he’d follow to the ends of Middle Earth.

“Well, my work isn’t done yet. I still have to tend to the boys.” Thorin’s face hardened, and he nodded, shifting out of the way to allow Bilbo to enter the hallway fully. Bilbo stepped hesitantly past all the healers to the first cell containing one of his boys. Kili was slumped over, snoring softly close to the bars. Bilbo looked questioningly at Thorin and the healers.

A robust blonde-haired dwarf answered his look. “We decided spiking their water with a calming draft again would make things easier for you, considering…” The dwarf’s eyes flicked to Thorin, whose gaze fell to the floor. Bilbo could feel the guilt rolling off of his tense shoulders. The hobbit placed a soft hand on the dwarf’s arm.

“Hey,” Thorin met Bilbo’s understanding gaze. “It wasn’t you.” Thorin’s eyes narrowed and he made to speak but stopped.

“Later.”

Bilbo frowned but nodded. He turned his attention back to Kili. Dain stepped out of a nearby guard’s room, the keys in his hands. He gave Bilbo a hearty pat on the shoulder as he moved past to open Kili’s cell.

The boys were uneventful in comparison to Thorin. The darkness inside them seemed less all-consuming, easier to pull the boys from. Kili and Fili were both groggy and confused as they awoke. Each gave Bilbo a large hug that made the hobbit’s eyes water. If a few tears slipped out, no one commented.

It was done. The sickness was contained in the mountain, and they would tackle that issue as soon as they could. But for now, the Company was whole and hale again. Bilbo smiled as bright as a sunflower as Thorin held his boys, wincing as they knocked their newly cleared heads together in a dwarvish greeting. Dain heartily held his cousins and even spared the hobbit a rib-crushing hug. Nori had disappeared to where ever Nori goes, and as Bilbo wavered a bit on his feet, it was his boys who helped him back to the medical tent.

The hobbit felt dead on his feet, hardly noticing as Dain and Thorin left in the opposite direction to Dain’s tent. He had a passing thought that Oin would be furious he wasn’t the one treating Thorin post-sickness.

The healer didn’t seem to notice however as the tent went up in raucous applause and noise as Bilbo and the boys entered. The three were swarmed with the cheers of the Company.

Bilbo felt a warmth in his chest like the sun had come down to settle there. It was over. It was really over.

There was a commotion outside the tent that paused the joyful reunion inside. Shouts could be heard, anxious, hurried shouts. Bilbo glanced at the faces of his dwarves and then to the tent flaps. Adrenaline spiked as he heard a word among the shouts that caused ice to flood into his veins.

Orcs.

Chapter Text

“Orcs,” Bilbo said, his eyes wide as he gripped Fili and Kili’s shoulders tight to stay upright on his feet. The two gave him twin looks of anxiety as a murmur went up among the company.

Suddenly, Nori was back, flitting through the tent flaps like a fox from the hen house. His eyes were a tad wild as he locked eyes with Bilbo. He nodded before searching the company for something, assumably his brothers. He swiftly made his way to Ori’s side as if proximity to his brother was what he needed in order to speak. For Bilbo knew he had the details of why the camp was suddenly in an uproar. The hobbit fought down a bubble of irritation that the dwarf did not speak right away. Were there orcs at their doorstep?

Bilbo huffed, “Well? Are we out of the frying pan and into the fire?”

Nori frowned and nodded. “Orcs, specifically Gundabad orcs, have been spotted on the high hills past Mirkwood, following the Forest river. It seems a sect of elves were passing through and managed to cull their numbers. One orc, in his dying breathe, let slip that hordes of orcs, with legions of goblins and packs Wargs in tow are on their way here now. For our heads or for the treasure that is no longer guarded by a Dragon, who is to say.” A cold shiver went through the entire company. Bilbo felt his heart stop then race into a frantic pace.

“An army. You’re saying an army is on the way. Here.” Bilbo whispered in horror.

Nori nodded, and the tent was suddenly ablaze with movement. The dwarves who were fit to stand and, of course, those who were not, yet still tried, began donning their armor and weapons. Fili and Kili had dropped Bilbo into a chair as they ran out of the tent, assumably to find their Uncle. The hobbit watched the blurs of movement with a disconnect between him and reality.

Everything they had already been through and now, when it seemed they were finally at journey’s end, an army. An army of orcs bent on skewering their heads on pikes, whether for gold or for spite. And if they were Gundabad orcs, Azog’s orcs, it was more likely out of spite, and the gold was a pleasant bonus.

Nori had broken his gaze with Bilbo as he began to argue with a squirming Ori who was assuring he was ready for battle, hell or high water, bandages or no bandages. Dori was between the two and clearly Nori and he were on the same side for once as they each argued with their strong-willed little brother.

Bilbo blinked, and the world came rushing back to stunning clarity. He had to find Thorin. He had to be there when the plans were made, he needed more details, and he needed to be by his King’s side. He stood on wobbly legs and felt a rush of exhaustion but pushed through, rest was for those whose death did not seem to loom so near.

He pushed through the tent flaps and immediately had to duck a passing dwarf’s load of spears. The entirety of their makeshift camp town was abuzz with movement. The fear and excitement were palpable, and Bilbo scoffed because it was only dwarves who would be excited at the prospect of battle. Bilbo quickly sidestepped another passing dwarf and began weaving his way through the crowds, towards the home Dain had commandeered. He was sure that was where the war planning would begin. For that was indeed what would happen if there were legions and hordes at their doorstep.

War.

Something Bilbo thought of as an event in histories and stories. But instead, it was something real that he may have to live. That his friends, his loved ones, his friends’ people would have to live. The image of disturbing gore and the sounds of screams seemed to flash in Bilbo’s mind and he couldn’t bear it.

His feet brought him to the door of Dain’s rooms and he pushed in, finding Thorin, Gandalf, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Balin, Beorn, Tauriel, Legolas, Dain, and Dain’s advisors in tense conversation. However, there were two other figures in the room that made Bilbo blink in abject surprise.

“Elladan? Elrohir?” He questioned. The two dark-haired, tall figures turned his way and gave him beaming grins.

“Bilbo!” They cried in unison before sweeping the small hobbit into twin hugs. Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh as his scarf fell from his hair as he was spun and jostled before being placed back on his feet. Elrohir bent down to grab the scarf and poked at Bilbo’s shoulder-length errant curls.

“My, my, Mister proper Hobbit, what a glorious mane you have now!” The hobbit smacked his finger away but Elladan’s hand replaced it, brushing a hand over a clump of curls.

“I thought you said hobbits were very prim about their hair and clothing. You look like a wild man! Like that bear fellow!” The twins tinkling laughter filled Bilbo’s heart.

There was suddenly a large hand gripping the Elladan’s wrist and Bilbo looked up to see Thorin’s displeased gaze. Bilbo frowned and gazed past him to find the entire tent worth of, he would say, very important people war planning, watching him and his friends behave incredibly poorly for the circumstances. Bilbo immediately sobered from the joy of seeing his friends and looked back to Thorin, tying his hair back again.

“I’m sorry, Thorin. I hadn’t meant to interrupt so. I just heard the news and then the presence of these two surprised me. And I wanted-” His anxious explanation was stopped short as Thorin’s hand had released the elf’s and landed squarely in Bilbo’s hair as well. However, instead of clutching or poking at his curls, the hand simply threaded through the hairs at the base of his neck. Bilbo blinked at this gesture and felt his heart skip.

Thorin gave him a slight upturn of the lips before using the hand to lead Bilbo further into the room and away from the twins. “I am glad you’re here. You should be informed. It was your friends,” he glanced at the twins, “Who brought us the information and took care of the pack of orcs they came across.” Bilbo blinked at this and also looked at the twins.

“What on Middle Earth were you doing this side of Mirkwood, far from your father’s halls?” He asked.

Elladan gave his brother a pointed glance that swung between Thorin and Bilbo and then back to his brother. Elrohir grinned and nodded and then answered, “When Gandalf sent word to Rivendell regarding the illness plaguing the Durin folk and the dragon’s sickness in the mountain, our father sent us, as well-versed and powerful healers in our own right, to consult and aid should it be needed. Though,” He again glanced at Thorin, then to Fili and Kili. “It seems our journey may have been in vain.”

Gandalf hurumphed and spoke up before Bilbo could answer, “And as I said before, while our kind hobbit has purged the gold madness from the Durin folk, the dragon’s taint still lays heavy over the mountain, and the treasure inside. We may still yet require your aid.”

Bilbo nodded at this, “Indeed, my good friends, I may have grown stronger since we last met-”

“Amazingly so,” Elrohir and Elladan said in unison, their eyes alight with an intense curiosity. “Your aura blazes like a golden sun on a sweltering summer day.” Bilbo blushed and coughed, and the fingers he’d nearly forgotten were at the back of his neck tightened minutely. Bilbo looked up at Thorin, but the dwarf had returned his eyes to the large, tattered map spread over the table.

“Whatever the case, though I may have grown stronger, I still am figuring out the extent and the mechanics of these abilities. Any guidance from you or Lord Elrond would be invaluable.” The twins nodded and agreed to help in any way they could. The conversation quickly returned to the subject at hand; orcs.

“According to our elf friends, the orc scum said their army was coming from the North, from Mount Gundabad. They are led by Azog and Bolg. We can assume that if they are riding from there, we only have a short time before they arrive.” Dain grumbled harshly about the dirty rotten Sparn of Morgoth. “Several ravens of Erebor have returned to their rooks, specifically Roac, son of Carc, who obliged us by flying to check the orc hordes' progress. We pray he shall return in time to warn us and with time to spare.”

Balin spoke then, “Never underestimate the wings and determination of an Erebor raven. Roac’s father, Carc, served well as an advisor and emissary for Thrain and Thror, Mahal rest their souls.” Dain and his advisors nodded and the conversation began to turn to planning. Tauriel and Legolas did not think they would find any help from King Thranduil but Legolas said he would try to persuade his father. And if the Mirkwood Elves did not come, they would have his arrows either way. Bilbo favored the blonde with a smile and nod at this. Beorn agreed he would stay, though he had no army to bring to bear, only his claws and fangs to wield. Balin assured the large man that was more than enough, receiving a nod from Thorin and Bilbo.

The talks went long into the night, interrupted by the brief comings and goings of dwarves as orders were given and refreshments poured: stiff cups of tea for the elves and Bilbo and hearty mugs of ale for the rest. However, by the end of the night, even had Bilbo agreed to a pint or two.

Sometime before the sun had set, Bard had arrived. His face was ashen and grim as he entered the tent.

“Thank you for your warning, King Under the Mountain. I came as fast as I could.” Bard put a fist over his chest and cut a swift bow to Thorin. Bilbo blinked in surprise at the dwarf; it was downright humanitarian of him to have warned and invited the head of the Men folk. The king raised an eyebrow at his surprised look. Thorin’s hand had left his nape only to busy itself with gestures and pointing, then returned to its place, sometimes shifting to a shoulder or the middle of his back, sending a bit of a flutter through Bilbo’s heart. So comfortable did it feel to Bilbo that he had forgotten until this moment when the hand fell as he raised an eyebrow in return and stepped to clap Bard on the forearm, for that was the highest he could reach.

“Welcome, my friend. Forgive me for not even thinking of the danger you and your people will be in with these scourge in the lowlands of the mountain and following the river.” Bilbo tugged the Man closer to the table and offered him a pint of ale as the conversation took up again.

As soon as he had returned to Thorin’s side, the hand returned, brushing curls as it settled on his shoulder. Bilbo shot the King another questioning look, the same kind he’d sent each time he remembered to question the familiar touch. For this was new. There were, of course, the day-to-day touches of traveling in close proximity that he’d shared with all the dwarves. There were the warm brotherly touches of Nori and sometimes the other dwarves should they have the mind or a particularly touching moment. There were the downright precocious touches of Fili and Kili when they were in the right mind to snuggle him as if he were a cute pet. But this, this was different. Bilbo knew that. He was no casanova of the Shire but he was no fainting daisy. He knew when a touch was meant to convey something more. The baffling, puzzling part was that it was coming from Thorin, whose smiles were hard to come by and embraces or shoulder pats even more so. Thus this extended contact was absolutely unheard of.

Bilbo would not say anything now, but as Thorin had said earlier that day, a ‘later’ would be coming. And it would seem they would have quite a bit to speak on.

Bilbo tuned back into the war planning, knowing he wanted to be fully informed on the measures that would keep him and, more importantly, his friends safe. Strange dwarves and fluttering feelings could wait for a day when death did not hang above them, whenever that day would come. He did not see the knowing glances the dwarves had been sending each other throughout the day nor the curved grins of the twins across the table.

“Pray to Yavanna Roac flies fast,” he muttered as he took another sip of his ale and pointed to a seemingly weak point in their suggested formations.

“And to Mahal,” Thorin agreed, following Bilbo’s suggestion with a potential solution. “What of your forces, Master Bard? How many of your men are fit to fight?” The man thought for a moment, speaking cautiously.

“There are at least three hundred who are fit to bear arms. We have what weapons were found in the Master’s coffers as well as the paltry weapons from before the uprising. I would pledge my men and weapons without hesitation, as they will be alight with the need to defend their home as well.” The man frowned. “However, I must ask for a boon.”

Thorin and Dain straightened at this and the King nodded for the man to continue. “Our women and children, sick and elderly, will be defenseless if we lend all of our able-bodied men to this cause. I would ask that they be allowed to go to ground within the reinforced walls of the Mountain rather than lay in the open of Laketown to be slaughtered by a wayward orc.” Bilbo suddenly remembered that Bard had several children in Laketown. He couldn’t imagine the fear the man felt at the idea of orcs raining down death and decay on his town and his own babes.

The table minus Bard looked to Gandalf, for there was no telling what the Mountain’s affect would have on Men folk and Bard was the only one not made aware of the taint within the mountain. The wizard puffed at his pipe for several moments before exhaling in a long weary way.

“Master Bard, if I have leave of the dwarves to tell you,” With this, he paused for protest but none came. “The dragon’s foul occupation has left an even fouler curse on the Mountain, specifically its gold. And we are unsure of how far the curse stretches within the mountain or how it would affect your lady folk, babes, and ailing. Simply put, it will not be safe for them in the mountain.”

The man’s face fell into a deeper frown and Bilbo wanted to pat the poor man’s should if only he could reach. “Then where are you sheltering your people who cannot fight? May my people go there?” His face turned to Thorin once again. The King nodded and Bilbo could not help but admire the return of his reasonably reasonable friend from the gold madness.

“Indeed, we will be leaving our dwarves who cannot fight or who hold auxiliary positions here in Dale. There are several homes with basements that are currently being fortified with additional exits and traps to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Your women and children will be welcome there if we have your promise of aid.” With that, the two shook hands. The conversation took back up with the new reinforcements of the Men, a definite improvement on the five hundred or so dwarves they had available from Dain, though battle-hardened and heavily armored Dains dwarves may be.

Bilbo took a deep breath. All of this planning, all of this maneuvering, it was on a much greater scale than what he found he was worrying about. How could he keep his friends safe among a sea of eight hundred or so allies and who knows how many enemies? There was no way he would be able to keep site of them all. No way he could save them all or even one if he wasn’t close enough. He was nothing to laugh at with a sword, and who knew where his powers would take him next. But still, he was one hobbit. He chewed his lip and wished that Roac would return already so they knew what they were against.

The night ran even longer til eventually the meeting adjourned so the war board may get an hour or two of sleep before dawn. Bilbo walked back to their company's tent with Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, and Balin. As the hobbit pushed open the tent flap last, he looked over the sleeping forms of company and the forms of his exhausted friends climbing into their respective cots. It seemed several beds had been moved into the space for Thorin and the boys as they found the empty spots and clambered in. Bilbo felt his heartache at the peace, the quiet, the calm before the storm. Similar to those nights before he entered the mountain to face Smaug. The same melancholic feeling that things will never be the same again. Perhaps it was comforting that he was feeling the same feeling again, meaning things had returned to be the same again. However, the fact he would feel it again so soon made him sting with frustration that their journey could not just be over. Then again, his journey would not be over for some time. What with the ring and-

“Bilbo.” A soft, gruff voice startled him from his racing thoughts. The hobbit looked to where the voice had come from and found Thorin looking at him from his cot, his nephews to one side, already snoring like the young ones they were. “Get some rest. The world will not be saved with worry.” With that, the King turned on his side and pulled a fur over his shoulder. The hobbit huffed but acquiesced. Bilbo climbed into his own cot and settled in. The King was right. Action was needed.