Chapter Text
Chapter One: An Unexpected Party (once more)
When Bilbo opened his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of home.
That in itself wasn't unusual. Afterall, it was his home. Rather, the oddity lay in the fact he had left his home, and the shire along with it, many years before. It was Frodo’s home now. The hobbit hole looked rather the same though, with the green door, the same well kept garden. Around him life carried on as normal, the shire being unchanged, as it had been for all time.
Moments before looking upon his house, Bilbo had been traveling across the open fields, no particular destination in mind. Wandering as he did as of late, never able to settle down his desire for adventure. Now though, to appear back in the shire? Some magic must be at hand.
The sunlight shone brightly on the smial, and Bilbo could not help pausing for a second. Taking in the trees, the fresh air, and all the other details he had missed so dearly when he left.
“Good Morning Master Bilbo,” A hobbit cheerfully remarked as he made his way down the road with his cart. That was yet another strange factor to this growing puzzle, Bilbo thought. Why- the hobbits of the shire hadn’t seen him for more than a decade at this point.
“Are you doing alright?” A hobbit who had been passing by questioned. Looking closer, Bilbo recognized the man, for he was Hamfast Gamgee, the caretaker of his gardens. Why, he appeared in his youth, and he also happened to be looking closely at the shaken Bilbo, concern for him flooding his face.
“Yes, yes quite I am. Good morning to you as well,” Bilbo responded hastily. Quickly he rushed up the path, towards his home. Opening the door, his hand on the knob caught his eye. No longer was it wrinkled and covered with spots, but it was fresh again, like it had been in his youth. Before his adventures, and most definitely before that cursed ring and that fateful battle at the lone mountain.
A faint suspicion was growing in his mind. Could- no. No, he would not allow himself to think like that. Afterall, the past had happened, and there were no second chances. Though, that didn’t stop Bilbo from locating a mirror. He gasped slightly when he looked upon his reflection, for no longer did he look like the 120 knew himself to be. Instead he looked to be not a day over 50. Back to his prime. Back when his adventure–
“What strange manner has conspired to bring me back here? At this time?” Bilbo cried aloud, racing around his house. Nothing was out of place, it was like he was well remembered. His mothers doilies, his favorite armchair, and even his good spoons. Just like it had been for years before that fateful day. The one when Gandalf had come knocking and changed everything.
That thought hit Bilbo like a weight to his chest. If this was indeed the time before the quest, before the dwarfs and the dragon, then perhaps he Could get a second chance. No, he would not allow himself to have hope again.
No denying the fact though, is that something was off, and most definitely wrong. He, however, would wait. Yes, that was it. He would wait until something could be done, and he knew better. Afterall, time travel was a ridiculous thought, even to one who had seen as much as he had.
Collecting himself once more, Bilbo set out to do his chores.
For almost a week, Bilbo fell back into the old routine. He studied his books, ate his meals, and chatted with his old neighbors, many of which in his time had passed. Now they were here though, like him.
None of them called him Mad Baggins. None of them worried about anything, and if they did know what was to happen, they most certainly didn’t tell him. Only Bilbo knew what had happened, what might happen.
In the silence of his days, he prepared. Bilbo stocked a bit more food than strictly necessary, on the off chance the dwarfs would actually appear. He acquisitioned a new traveling cloak, some knives too. It was subconscious almost. The bag that appeared at the foot of his bed, full of traveling gear. As the weeks passed, Bilbo started doubting. Did the quest even happen? Was he just going mad, mad with a dream that he felt he had lived. Was it just a dream? He wouldn’t let himself acknowledge that it was real, and yet, he still grew restless.
Then it happened. He was sitting outside, blowing smoke rings into the air, taking in the sunlight and the quiet bustle of the shire that he had held dear for so long. A man approached from along the path. His hat was tall, gray, and possessed a wide brim. His cloaks and robes were long, as was his white beard. He came to a stop in front of the hobbit, and stared for a second.
“Good Morning,” Bilbo found, responding in the same manner as he had all those years ago. This time around though, Bilbo recognized Gandalf. His old friend Gandalf! It was a joy to see him again, and so the smile that broke out over his face was real.
“What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning, or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?” Gandalf pondered for a second.
“All of them at once I suppose.” Bilbo nodded, the memory of what was to happen still as fresh to him as it was when it happened. Well, it was happening, in a manner of speaking. It just so happened that it had happened before.
“What brings you to these parts once more Gandalf?” Bilbo questioned, deciding to take a deviation from the path the conversation had happened last time.
“Why dear Master Baggins, I am pleasantly surprised you remember me!” Gandalf remarked, a smile spreading on his face.
“How could I forget the fireworks you used to bring to the Mid-Summers Eve!” Bilbo was happy to reminisce. “However, I do also remember your nasty habit of dragging unsuspecting hobbits on adventures too. So out with it. Are you here for tea, or something else?”
“Well my dear hobbit, if you must know I am looking for someone to share in an adventure,” Gandalf’s eye sparkled and he regarded him closely.
“Oh, well I doubt you will find anyone interested west of Bree! Perhaps you could try in the lands over yonder.” He gave a pause. “However, something makes me feel that you rather wish to drag me along on it instead,”
“Dear Bilbo, I never drag anyone on adventures, I simply give them a little push,” Gandalf chuckled.
“In any case, I will think about it. Of that matter I can say no more. Afterall, no good ever comes from adventures.” He remarked, as it would look poorly if he was too eager to join the quest. “Would you care for some tea in the meantime?” Bilbo questioned, standing up from his bench, and dusting himself off. He went and grabbed the mail, looking quickly through it, barely reading what was written.
“I very much would,” Gandalf accepted, and so the hobbit rushed to get out the china and the biscuits and, well, the tea itself.
They chatted briefly, mostly about Bilbo’s mother, and the adventure she had been on. Before long, Gandalf declared he must leave, as he had other matters that must be attended to.
“And I shall inform the others,” Gandalf stated as he moved towards the exit.
“Others-” Bilbo managed to get in before the door was shut, and the wizard was gone. Remembering last time, Bilbo listened carefully to the sound of the mark being made on his front door. After he was truly sure that Gandalf was gone, he took a peak at the door, finally seeing what had brought the dwarfs to his door last time. With a satisfied nod, Bilbo retreated back into his house. It seemed he had some preparations to do.
Before he knew it, the next day was upon him. Just thinking about what was to happen, his stomach started churning.
Already his mind had been made. He was given a chance, that much was clear, and he was going to take it. He was going to change the past, and he was going to ensure that Thorin, Fili, and Kili didn’t die. Hopefully, he was going to ensure that the ring did not take control of him, or anyone else. That, he thought, was a worthy endeavor.
Just as he sat the last plate upon the table, he heard a knock at the door. Excitement flooded the hobbit, as he raced towards the door. Taking one last breath, he opened it to be faced with Dwalin. Just as he remembered, Dwalin stepped into the house, not waiting to be welcomed in.
“Dwalin at your service,” He stated, handing his coat to Bilbo.
“Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family’s,” Bilbo replied, remembering his manners. “I have set out some food already, it's just down the hall. You might as well get started if you will, I gather the rest might take a while to trickle in,”
Dwalin nodded with a word of thanks, and strode down the hallway. Bilbo had little time to rest however, before the next member of the company was upon him.
“Balin, at your service,”
“Good evening, Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” Bilbo responded once more. “Dwalin has already arrived, though you are only second,”
“Oh! Evening brother!” Balin called, as he approached Dwalin.
“By my beard! You are shorter and wider than we last met!” Dwalin remarked, a toothy smile spreading on his face.
“Wider, no shorter,” Balin chuckled. “But sharp enough for the both of us,”
Bilbo then left the dwarfs to get reacquainted, as the doorbell rang out once again. All too well, he remembered who was next. Opening the door, he could not help but smile as he was faced once more with Fili and Kili.
“Fili,”
“And Kili,”
“At your service!” They chimed together, giving a small bow to the hobbit before them.
“Mr. Boggins, is it?” Kili questioned, looking over Bilbo.
“Baggins, Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” Bilbo remarked, already grabbing and hanging the cloaks and weapons the dwarfs offered. Storing them properly this time, mind you. He may be greeting the dwarfs with manners this time, but he would not have his house be made a mess.
“Has it been canceled? Where are the others?” Fili questioned, looking around. At the smial.
“No, nothing of the sort. The others are in the dining room now,” Bilbo reassured, attempting to shoo them in that direction.
“It’s nice, this place. Did you do it yourself?” Kili questioned, already wandering room to room.
“Goodness no, it's been in the family for years,” Bilbo responded fondly. He had quite nearly forgotten the energy of the brothers, and now that they were back, so was Bilbo’s resolve. He would not fail them this time.
It was a close call, but he at last managed to wrangle them both down the hallway, leaving them in the care of Dwalin, whom they greeted enthusiastically.
The next to arrive was Gandalf, who nearly hit his head on the door frame as he entered. He said nothing, but rather took off to join the others in the dining room, where the members who had arrived were eating and chatting with vigor. It was comforting as opposed to stress inducing this time around, and Bilbo discreetly had to wipe a forming tear away. He had missed them all terribly.
It wasn’t that in his time they had all been gone, but rather a distance had grown between them. Bilbo never had the opportunity to travel far again, and their correspondence had slowly ceased to nothing. As a group they had always felt the unspoken loss of Thorin, Fili, and Kili, and that drove a wedge further in between them. Now, that would all be different.
Ignoring the clattering sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen, he greeted the others as they came in. There was Ori, Dori, and Nori. There was Gloin, who Bilbo remembered was the father of Gimli, who would later join Frodo on his quest with the ring. Bifur came next, the axe in his head. There was Oin and there was Bombur. Lastly there was Bofur.
All the greetings went about in the same fashion, and before he knew it, the dwarves were racing around the house, refusing to stay put. Gandalf had found a cup of wine, and was drinking it amidst the confusion, appearing rather amused by it all.
“We appear to be one dwarf short,” Gandalf noted, counting the dwarves around him.
“He is late, is all. He traveled North to a meeting of our kin. He will come,” Dwalin replied, walking past, his mouth full of food.
Meanwhile, Bilbo, unable to not revert to the ways of his past, had worked himself into a bit of a frenzy, ensuring the home wasn’t completely destroyed. The pantry did remain intact, though he had to confiscate the crochet doilies from Kili.
“Ah, my dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?” Gandalf finally questioned.
“Nothing, it's nothing. Well, rather it's just a lot.” Bilbo found himself wiping perspiration from his forehead with his handkerchief.
“They are quite a merry gathering,” Gandalf gazed fondly at the rowdy lot. Peeking through the hallway, and into the dinning room, Bilbo watched as food got flung in every direction, and plates soon after. A chain had formed, of dwarfs throwing plates, and although Bilbo knew that they would not drop them, he still turned his head.
At the table, Dwalin and Gloin sat, pounding the silverware into the table. Remembering what happened last time, Bilbo couldn’t resist calling out.
“Be careful, you might blunt the knives!”
“You hear that lads? He says we’ll blunt the knives!” Gloin hollered to the rest. With a grin, Kili started the song.
“Blunt the knives, bend the forks-”
“Smash the bottles and burn the corks!” Fili continued the song as more silverware joined the throwing.
“Chip the glasses and crack the plates! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!” All of them were now singing the song, and Bilbo had to squish a smile. His house was getting cleaned in the process too, which was a plus.
“Cut the cloth, tread on fat! Leave the bones on the bedroom mat! Pour the milk on the pantry floor, splash the wine on every door! Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, pound them up with a thumping pole! When you’re finished, if they are whole, send them down the hall to roll!”
“That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!” They explained, finishing the song as they put the last dish away.
So caught up in the jolly mood of the moment, the hobbit was caught off guard when there was a pounding at the door, which sent his stomach suddenly to his throat. He had forgotten that Thorin was to arrive now.
Racing to the front door, Bilbo found Gandalf had beat him to it.
There, on his front mat, stood Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, grandson of Thrór, and King under the Mountain.
“Gandalf,” Thorin stated, taking no note of the Hobbit who was staring at him, thunderstruck, “I thought you said this place would be easy to find? I lost my way twice. I wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door,”
Finally glancing into the smial, Thorin saw Bilbo. No recognition passed over the dwarf’s face, and yet Bilbo was still ready to weep for joy, for Thorin was well and truly alive. He had known that of course, known that since he had appeared on the doorstep of Bag End, and yet he hadn’t believed it in his heart until this moment.
“So, this is the hobbit,"