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Chapter Text

Bilbo did not have a single night of sleep without this recurring nightmare. He'd wake up with the same feeling of drying blood on his hands. The smell of smoke in his nose again. And their last conversation echoing in his ears like a prayer again again and again. 

He ran down the stairs, nearly tripping on the ice that they were covered with. Far in the distance he could hear the first eagles arriving. At the bottom of the stairs covered in dirt and blood laid the King under the Mountain. 

“No No No No No”, the Hobbit mumbled. Don't let it be too late.

The wet coughs that rattled through Thorin, reached his ears soon after.  

Bilbo let himself fall to his knees and grabbed Thorin's hand. A desperate try to give Thorin comfort and reassure himself that he was still alive. 

His eyes scanned over the unarmoured body. What a fool he had been to go into war like that. 

“Bilbo!”a small smile appeared on Thorin's face as he turned to look at his burglar.  “Don't move. Don't move. Lay still.” 

And on his chest Bilbo saw the fatal hole that pierced itself through the king. Bilbo pressed his free hand onto the wound trying to help his dying friend somehow. The sight made him nauseous. The feeling of warm blood carving itself into his hands and memory. Thorin winced. His body tring to curl around the pain to stop it, not having the energy to do so. 

The king's eyes were still fixated on the hobbits face, tracing every detail that he grew to love over the months, trying to absorb it, to save every little detail, holding it close to his heart and keeping it treasured there. Even if just for a minute. “I'm glad you're here.”

Bilbo only shushed him. He didn't have time for sentimental speeches now, he needed to focus on helping his friend. 

“I wish to part of you in friendship.” “No.”, Bilbo replied, shaking his head. He did not care if it seemed rude or not but he could not let his emotions overtake his actions now. Not with someone so importing dying beneath his hands. “You are not going anywhere Thorin. You´re  going to live.” And despite his best efforts tears gathered in his eyes and made it hard to see. 

“I wish to take back…”, another wet cough,” my words and deeds at the gate.” Bilbo's eyes diverted from Thorin's chest to his face now. Bilbo shook his head. A desperate attempt to shake his emotions off of him. “You did what only a good friend would do.” Thorin eyes squinted in pain “Forgive me.”, he whispered. Bilbo's head fell between his shoulders as tears streamed down his face. “I was too blind to see. ” Another wet cough. The Hobbits' shoulders were shaking and his hands were losing pressure on the wound. This could not be it. There had to be a way he could save him. 

“I am so sorry, that I led you into such peril.”, The king's voice was breaking. His breaths sounded wet now too. And yet again another wet cough rattled through him 

“No, I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin.” Bilbo now took both of his hands and clutched them around the one resting on Thorin's chest. He looked him straight in his eyes and whispered:”It far more than any Baggins deserves.” Their faces were hovering only inches apart from one another. Thorin only smiled. His breaths became more ragged by the second. 

“Farewell, Master Burglar. Go back to your books.” Wet cough. “And you armchair. Plant your trees.” Underneath Bilbo's hands Thorins twitched slightly, as if he was trying to return the sentiment of holding onto him. “Watch them grow.”

Bilbo could not look Thorin in the eyes any longer. His vision was becoming blurry and more tears stained his cheeks. Thorin groaned in pain. 

“If more people… valued home above gold the world would be a merrier place.” His voice was so soft and yet… 

Bilbo had never thought that he would one day fight in a war. Not even twelve months ago he would have thought that he had joined the dwarf on their journey to retrieve their home. But now he kneeled beside one of his most valued friends and had to watch, hear him take his last breath. 

A violent sob escaped Bilbo's chest. “Thorin, please. No. Please hold on. Thorin. Oh by Yavannah.” He let his head drop to Thorin's chest and sobbed. There was no heartbeat any longer. But when he shut his eyes and let himself pretend… 

  In the not so far distance he heard someone scream. Dwalin. 

He does not know whether or not he should be grateful that he passed the stage of nightmare where his brain twisted his imagination and let him attempt to save Thorin over and over again. Now it was only an exact replica of the events that haunted him at night.

At first he thought he would eventually forget the way the coughs sounded or the way Thorin's cold hands felt like in his. But his memories did not let him do that.

Eight years had passed now since the battle of the five armies. That's what they called it in the history books now, he heard. He thought about talking to someone about what had happened all these years ago. Hamfast was the first to come to mind and even despite Bilbo not having the strength to talk about it freely his gardener and friend asked him regularly if he was doing alright and if he wanted to talk about it. Maybe one day he might be able to talk about it. But it was too hard. 

So he tried writing everything down. 

On one of the few days where he didnt feel like the grief was crushing him he rummaged through his house, desperate to find the red book he had bought many years ago and had not used until now. And he sat down and began to write. 

The happy memories he so dearly treasured in his heart. The brave fights he and his dwarven friends fought. The evenings at the campfire when Fili and Kili would be bickering and everyone was laughing and even Thorin who seemed to be set on always being grumpy and serious would sometimes break into a smile and once or twice even in a chuckle. They  seemed so unimportant in the moment but were now one of his favourites to look back upon. 

He rarely let anyone into his home. And despite not wanting any visitors his cabins and pantry were always stocked with everything he could need to feed a group of thirteen. 

Just in case, he thought. 

The anniversary of the battle came and passed like it did every year. Along with it came the annual invitation for him to come back to the Lonely Mountain and visit Erebor. Not just the kingdom but his friends that refound their home there. 

But he couldn't bring himself to go back. Not with the knowledge he wouldn't find him there sitting on his throne that he fought so hard to get back.  

So every year on the day the battle took place Bilbo would go into town and buy the best wine he could find and drink that until he couldn't see straight anymore. 

He was well aware that that was not a way he should deal with his problems but he couldn't really help himself otherwise. Nothing kept his mind quiet for long enough. 

One year, the third anniversary to be exact, he tried it without the wine but that ended with a terrible panic attack. And he was not willing to put himself through that again. The only other hobbit that knew was Hamfast, Bilbo was also very aware that Hamfast did not approve of his habits but was too good of a friend to dig for answers or stop him from drinking on that night. 

His gardener had found him three years ago after Bilbo had crashed in his own garden right next to the oak tree he had planted when he got back from his adventure.

On this particular day Bilbo believed nothing unexpected to happen. That would of course not be the case. 

Yet again the hobbit woke up from his night terrors. His entire body was shaking and covered in a layer of cold sweat. Slowly he sat up and headed over to his bathroom, splashed his face with cold water. Quickly he decided that that would not do so he scrubbed his entire body down and changed into his favourite shirt and vest. 

After he was done he walked into his kitchen and set on the kettle making himself his tea. 

The morning passed rather fast and before he knew it it was late afternoon and he was sitting in front of his beloved red book. He had come to the point where they had reached Rivendale. He had been looking forward to writing that part. He loved the Elven Kingdom and their stay there. Bilbo wished to return to it someday in the future. He was in the midst of describing the conversation he overheard of Gandalf and Elrond as a heavy knock on his door echoed through his home. 

“Hamfast, I'm sorry but I don't have time for visitors tonight. You can come back tomorrow morning if you want to! I can even make your favourite.”, Bilbo yelled towards his door a bit annoyed. 

There were about five seconds of silence before the stranger knocked again. “Hamfast, I assure you I am fine. I don't need anyone over tonight.” Sometime ago his gardener started to randomly visit Bilbo and invite himself in and stay the night. Bilbo never really understood why he did that. 

On their third attempt the knock became even more forceful. “Oh by Yahvanna. I swear if you don't really have a good explanation to why you are showing up at my door, I will…”

Bilbo flung the door open and came to an abrupt halt. His mind and body froze all at once. 

“I know that I am not the face you thought you would see on this fine afternoon. Still I hope not to intrude on your merry home. But I had hoped to hear how you are doing, my friend.”, said Balin. 

“What are you…? Why are you here?”Bilbo frowned. The soft smile Balin had slightly cracked and he looked rather worried now. “I wanted to visit you. We haven't… Oh this is so terribly impolite. I should have written to you beforehand. I can leave no hussle my friend i am sorry…” Balin turned around and started to walk off Bilbo's porch.
The hobbit was still in too much of a shock to do or say anything so he just watched the dwarf leave, unable to tell him how much he wanted him to stay. 

“Bilbo Baggins, this is not how you greet a friend. Especially not one you have fought great battles with.”, Gandalf's voice thundered. 

Bilbo turned his head to the wizard at his fence which he had not seen approaching. 

“I… Of course not. I mean…”, Bilbo turned around looking into his untidy hallway. “I wasn't expecting anyone tonight but your visit is always welcome Master Balin. My sincere apologies. I was just taken aback by seeing such someone as yourself in the Shire.”, a forced smile plastered itself onto Bilbo's face. 

In all those years of living in the Shire with many relatives which he did not like all of, Bilbo had learned one especially useful trait: faked politeness in times of fear. 

Balin turned back around and smiled at his friend. 

“It is so great to see you again after all these years, my friend.” As the dwarf reached Bilbo he carefully placed his hand on his neck and let their foreheads touch just briefly. Bilbo stepped aside and let Balin enter his hobbit hole. “You can just place your stuff over there if you'd like.”, he advised the dwarf. 

Balin looked around in awe. “It looks just like the day I came here for the first time. I understood then as well as now why you missed it so much on our journey.” 

The hobbit shuddered a nervous breath. “Do you also want to come in, old friend?”, he said to Gandalf. 

The wizard smiled brightly at him. “Your hospitality will always be my pleasure.”

Bilbo would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy having Balin and Gandalf in his home. For the first time in months he genuinely laughed at a joke again. For the first time in months he felt like he was at home again. 

Balin tried to tell Bilbo about the things that had happened in Erebor after he left. 

“Well, as you know Dain Ironfoot got crowned King under the Mountain. And has been slowly restoring Erebor for the past eight years. It is not easy. The entire kingdom was shaken by death and grief for a long time.” Balin stared at his wine mug and swallowed. “ But things got better eventually. Dwalin was put in charge of the soldier training. It is similar to the stuff he used to do in Ered Luin with Fili and Kili…” Balin nearly choked on his breath. “He really likes it.”, he said at last, avoiding Bilbo's eyes again. 

“Yeah… That's great though. I am glad he is doing something he enjoys so much.”, Bilbo tried not to look too heartbroken at the mention of the Princelings. “What are you doing in Erebor? I mean I knew you were some kind of lieutenant, but…”

“Well, with Thorin… dead and Dain having his own dwarfs to help him do his job as king I have gone into the great library we have in Erebor. I missed the many transcripts and books we had there. There are a lot of them about dwarven culture that I had thought lost long ago. To be honest I did not believe any of them would have survived through Smaug's reign. But I was so wrong, my dear friend. I think  you would have loved them as well.”

Bilbo vaguely remembered the dusty library. It was a very dark place in the mountain because it was so far down and so didn't have any windows. “I think I would have.”

“I am sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad, Bilbo.”, Balin admitted. “You didn't make me sad, Balin. It is nice to hear their names from another.”, Bilbo fiddled with his fingers. “No one in the Shire knows them. Never will. One part of me is glad about that, you know? But it makes it harder to keep them alive than it should be, that way.”

“I wish I could take the burden from you, my friend. You know the doors of Erebor are always…” “I cannot go back there, Balin. I am sorry. I just cannot… Not with them…”, Bilbo looked away and fought his tears. “I cannot stand in these halls pretending to enjoy the sight when I know Fili and Kili could only look around in them in fear of their uncle. I cannot live there with their absence. I just can't.”

A single tear made its way across his cheek before Bilbo sprung up. “I am going to get more pie. I am being a terrible host.”, he let out a fake chuckle. 

In his kitchen he reached for the apple pie he had made a day earlier. It was then that he noticed his shaking hands. Plates were already at the table. So he simply grabbed the pie, flexed his hands, took a deep breath and walked back into his dining room.

He carefully placed it in the middle of the table and replaced the empty pie dish with it. “That one is apple pie. I made it with the apples in the back of the garden. Maybe you have seen the tree on your way here. But really you have to thank Hamfast for them. He's my gardener and takes care of everything back there.” Bilbo brought the dish back into his kitchen and placed it near his sink. He would do the dishes later. 

With another calming deep breath he sat back down at the table. Balin had started to cut the pie and carefully placed a slice on each plate. 

“Bilbo.”, Gandalf´s warm voice cut through the quiet. “You are not alone. We are not haunted by the dead. We are haunted by the living and the graveyard of memories they leave in our head.” Bilbo shook his head disapprovingly. He knew very well what the wizard was saying but he did not have the nerves to talk about it now.

“You should really talk to someone. It is eating you from the inside up. Soon there will not be anything left of the good in you.”

“So you're saying that I am bad simply because I am mourning my friends? The ones that saved my life multiple times after they gave it a purpose for the first time? You cannot say stuff like that just becauseI don't fit into the expectations you had of me before the journey.”, the hobbit voice was dark and hinted with anger.

“I am not accusing you of anything, Bilbo. I am just saying that grief can destroy a good soul. It has happened before. I just don't want that to happen to you.” 

Anger tickled in the hobbits' hands. “Well, it is good for you to be saying stuff like that eight years after they have died. Eights years of which you never visited once. Don't talk to me about not wanting to see me rot away, Gandalf. You did not care for it.”

“Bilbo.”, Balin intervened with a small and broken voice. He was crying.

“I want you to leave, please.” Bilbo stood up from his seat gesturing towards his door. “It was really great to see you both but I cannot do this tonight. I am sorry.”

“Bilbo, please. We can talk about something else.”, the dwarf tried to reason with him.

“Balin, I am sorry but no. You both will have to leave. If you hurry you can make it to Bree before midnight. They have lovely accommodations there.”

 The Dwarf wiped away his tears and nodded firmly. “Yes, of course. I apologise again for intruding on your home unannounced, Master Baggins.” “It's still Bilbo to you, Balin. And you shall return sometime soon if you'd like it just…” 

“No, I understand. It is fine. Have a wonderful evening, my friend.”, Balin said at last before gathering his things and vanishing through the door. 

“I hope you find back to yourself, Bilbo Baggins. Don't let it overtake your soul, whatever that means.” Bilbo frowned at the wizard. He couldn't possibly…

And before Bilbo could ask, his front door fell shut and he was alone again. 

70 years later…

“Do you remember the encounter we had when you came to visit me in Bag End for the first time after the battle of the five armies?”, said a way older Bilbo, leaning on his crutch.

The wizard looked down at the Hobbit next to him. “Yes, I believe I do.”

“I would like to apologize for that. I wasn't… My mind wasn't in a good state.”

“Oh my dear, Hobbit.”, Gandalf laughed. “I had not taken your reaction quite personally. I knew you were not well. I am glad to have seen you come back to yourself over the years.” Bilbo only nodded in response, satisfied with the answer he got. 

“What do you think it will look like? Where are we going now, uncle Bilbo?”, Frodo asked after he placed himself to the other side of Bilbo.

The elder Hobbit let his eyes wander over the water and the reflecting sunset. 

“I don't know, my boy. But I believe it to be beautiful.”, he said at last with a small smile.

“I am sure that it will be just that. They mention Aman only little in the books you have at home.”

“Oh to be quite frank, I never bothered to learn about what would happen after we have passed on. I don't know why I never gave it a thought now looking back on it.”

Silence fell between the two Hobbits.

“You know, uncle Bilbo. I spent all my childhood pretending to be off somewhere else, off with you on one of your adventures. And now… I must be honest with you. I never imagined it to be this kind of adventure but I am glad to share it with you nonetheless.”
“Oh my boy. I also wished our journey would not be of this kind. But this is what fate has decided for us.” 

Frodo only nodded in reply, looking down to his folded hands.

“I finished it.” Bilbo looked at his nephew.”The red book you gave me once. About your adventure with the dwarven. I wrote down my own tale in it, just like you asked me. I gave it to Sam before we left.”

“Oh I am so proud of you, Frodo.”

“I also finally read your part.”, his nephew replied quietly. “And? Did you enjoy it?” Bilbo replied. He closed his eyes and turned his face towards the sun, letting himself feel its warmth one last time. 

“I did, uncle. Your dwarven friends seemed very nice. I would have loved to meet them.”

Bilbo laughed at that. “Oh, they would have loved you, my boy. I am so sure of it. Fili, Kili and you would have been an unstoppable trio. Always doing shenanigans.” As many times over the years Bilbo let himself pretend to live that life. 

Ever since his eyes fell upon the small Frodo for the first time he was so sure that his dwarven friends would have loved him. They would have begged to show him their ways. To braid his hair and show him what loyalty means to dwarven folk. They would have spoiled him with everything they had to give. 

Even years later he could see Thorin's eyes beaming at his boy. They resembled each other to the point where Bilbo sometimes thought… Oh well, it doesn't really matter what the Hobbit thought because it was never real. Would never be real. Because Thorin was dead.

Frodo smiled kindly at Bilbo. “Did you ever regret it? Going with them?”

No one had ever asked him that before. Did he?

“It is not as easy as regretting it or not. There were moments in the past seventy years since I returned to the Shire, where all I wanted was for someone to take all the memories away from me. To let me forget that I ever even knew any of them. I hated to speak about it, dream about it, or even think about it. 

But the older I got the more I understood the values these dwarven taught me in the long run, you know? Writing it down helped with that. So no. In the end I don't regret it. I don't think I ever truly did. Even when I cursed them all in my mind.”

Frodo stayed silent. The elderly hobbit closed his eyes again. “Sometimes I wondered if I could have prevented it. The three of them dying on that day or maybe it was something far bigger than me and already carved into fate and I was unable to do anything about it.”

“I don't believe it is that simple. There is no reality of all of them surviving just because you changed your course of actions somehow. Sure in a way I also believe it was some sort of fate what had happened there. And maybe you will get a second chance somewhere. A chance where you can try to change what has happened.”

Bilbo smiled at the thought. “As much as I would love to have a second chance at this, I don't believe I would be granted one. I am just a Hobbit afterall.”

“Oh, uncle Bilbo.”Frodo shook his head with a laugh. “I believe neither of us can be considered “just a Hobbit” anymore.”

“Maybe you are right, my boy. Maybe we are not just Hobbits.”

Their journey was far. But eventually they reached the shores of Aman. Their final destination. Bilbo was pleased. 

As he set foot on the land he felt his weight shift and with another he felt how easy it was to walk now. How he had missed this, being able to walk freely without the ring in his pocket or his entire weight leaning onto his crutch. 

He took a deep breath through his nose, focusing on the way the fresh air felt in his lungs. 

“You have made it.”, said Gandalf behind him, placing a reassuring hand on his right shoulder. 

“We made it both, Gandalf.”, Bilbo replied with a smile looking at his tall friend. 

“Do you…?”Bilbo shifted his gaze toward the white fog in front of him. 

“I do not know if they will be there if that's what you wanted to know.”, Gandalf dropped his hand off the shoulder and his gaze followed the one of Bilbo. “But you will know if you step through the fog. They might be there if Yavannah views your life as worthy enough to reunite you.”

“I am scared of what will happen if they are not there.”, he whispered softly. 

“They might not show themselves the way you would want them to, Bilbo Baggins. You might have to look for them.” 

“But what if…” “Bilbo,”the wizard sighed. “ You proved yourself to be worthy of their loyalty once before. Don't doubt yourself and think you would not be able to do it a second time. If it would come to that I assure you, you will one day find them again. It might just take a few more moments than the first time around.”

“You speak of this place like it was not a place to rest but more like a second chance at things.”

“I will not pretend to know what is behind that gate, Bilbo Baggins. But I know you and I know what your heart desires most.”

The hobbit breathed in deep. He focused on the sand beneath his feet. He shifted them slightly letting the sand run between his toes.

“Will I see you there again, Gandalf?”, he said looking back at the wizard. Gandalf only shrugged. “I don't know that either. You might.”

“This seems not so reassuring.”, replied Bilbo with a nervous chuckle. 

“Time will tell, Master Baggins. You will only know what will happen if you continue to walk forward.”

Bilbo nodded firmly. He turned around and looked at his nephew who had tears running down his cheeks. 

“I am…”, he began but was interrupted. “You can tell me later uncle Bilbo. Now.”, Frodo gestured widely at the fog. 

With slightly unsure and shaky steps the elderly hobbit walked towards the white fog. The closer he got the colder he got as well. Carefully he stretched one of his hands out and let his fingertips trace the outer layer of the white fog. Immediately he felt calmer. 

For the last time he turned back and smiled brightly at his companions. “Farewell, my friends.” He waved them goodbye, took another step forward and was swallowed by the fog. 

Chapter Text

The smell of smoke filled his nostrils. His eyes were still closed but he would feel that he was sitting on some sort of bench. The summer sun was shining on his face and that made him smile. There was grass underneath his feet now. 

“Good morning.”, a very familiar voice said not so far away from him. 

Bilbo opened his eyes now for the first time. His thoughts had been right than before him stood no other than Gandalf. The hobbit let his eyes wander off the figure before he frowned. 

“I didn't know they'd make you put your old cloak on. Even though it suits you very well.”, he smiled kindly and took another puff off his pipe which was stuffed with his favourite pipe weed. 

Gandalf looked down on himself. “Old cloak? If I recall correctly I don't own another one.” 

“But…” Bilbo's frown only deepened. And that was also when he noticed his own hands that held his pipe for the first time. He stretched them in front of himself just in case his vision was doing tricks on him. 

But no. His hands were not the old and wrinkly ones he remembered. They were smooth again. No signs of heavy usage that they got through the fighting and the calais on his index finger from holding his quill do write was also significantly less.  

“Are you quite alright?”, asked the wizard.

“No, yeah. I am quite well. Uhm- Would you mind telling me what you came here for, Gandalf?”

“So you do remember who I am, Master Baggins. I had not really expected that, especially because the last time I saw you in person you were just a little fawn yourself.”

Fawn? What was the wizard talking about?

“But I actually came here with a request, Bilbo Baggins. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

The Hobbit could swear his jaw dropped to the floor right there and then. He had heard that sentence before. More than seventy years ago. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“An old friend of mine asked for a favour you see and I promised him that I could provide what he needed so I came here. You would be just the hobbit for that task.”

Bilbo felt warm and cold all over. He shook his head profusely and took another puff off his pipe to calm himself. 

“Just so you know I don't think of  this as being funny in any kind of way. Go bother someone else Gandalf. I really don't have time for this right now.” Bilbo stumbled to his feet and hurried back to his front door. 

  “Good Morning.” The Hobbit said at last, pointing his pipe at a very confused Gandalf before stepping into his home and closing the green door behind him. 

He closed his door firmly behind himself and let his head rest heavy against it. His chest hurt and he could feel the slight tremor in his body.

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose trying to get his breathing back under control. 

“It might be a coincidence. He was doing a terrible joke on me. It can't…” 

Behind him he would hear something scratching on his door. “What the…” Bilbo spun back around and ripped his door open only to see Gandalf leaving through his gate at the front of his garden. 

The wizard closed said gate behind him and shot Bilbo a smirk, eyes nearly disappearing underneath his hat.. 

“We shall meet again, Bilbo Baggins.” The grey wizard said and set off down Bag End.

It again took Bilbo a second to find his voice “ How many are there to he expected tonight, Gandalf?”

“I never said anything about the company.” The wizard frowned with a hint of a smile on his face. “But you better prepare for a bunch of hungry travelers.” 

So that was set then. 

A company of thirteen dwarven would potentially arrive at his door later that night. That was if he could trust his gut feeling. Part of him was getting excited. He would finally be able to prepare dinner for his friends. The one he had always promised them.

The other part, the larger part of him, was utterly terrified. He still hasn't figured out where or when he was. There was still a chance that he had safely arrived in Aman and that this was just what his afterlife was destined to look like. 

His interaction with Gandalf had set him to believe otherwise. The wizard seemed to have no knowledge of meeting the hobbit before under the same circumstances. Well, maybe not the same. 

Nonetheless Bilbo had to make a decision: Whether he should prepare a grand dinner for thirteen or just himself?

Before he even finished the thought Bilbo knew what he needed to do.

And so began to work. 

              First he checked his pantry for everything he already had to make a mental note of what he might need to prepare everything. But with the contents he ought to be able to make a decent amount of pies and maybe even cake and some roasted chicken and duck. He decided to get more potatoes and carrots from his garden (if Hamfast could spare him some). And after checking his kitchen for eggs and sugar he left his house dressed in his finest blue coat and vest to go and get some fish and other small things at the market downtown.

On his way there he let his mind wander a bit. Whilst he was searching his home for useful supplies his head had come up with a set theories of what was going on here: 

1. he was had actually reached Aman with Gandalf, Elrond, Galadriel and Frodo and this was just his own version of afterlife where he as set back into his 50 year old body and the company Gandalf had talked about were the souls of his dead friends would welcome him back into their circle.
2. . (This one made him worry) He had somehow travelled back in time (or was granted a second chance) and would now be reliving the entirety of the quest that he had set off of over seventy years ago.

Deep in his soul he could feel that he was hoping it to be the latter, even if he would never admit that. His theories should, by conclusion, be truthing or falsing themselves when he reached the market. There he would be able to say who was dead or not and therefore could only exist in the afterlife alongside him.

When he reached the market he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, suddenly scared of who he might see. His feet carried him over to Sago Longfoots fish stand.

A hobbit that should still be alive, if nothing bad had happened to him in the 17 years since he left the Shire to go to Rivendell.

“Hello Bilbo, my friend. How may I help you?” and Bilbo's breath caught in his chest and he stared wide-eyed at the other hobbit.

In front of him stood no one else than Sago Longfoot, but he was so much younger. He couldn't have been older than 25 now. 

“Did I startle you, Mister Baggins? I apologize you seemed quite stuck in your own head. But may I still help you with some fish?” “Yeah…I-” Bilbo cleared his throat. “Yes please. Could I have four of these ones over there?” He pointed at the four biggest fish laying on that table. 

Sagos eyebrows shot up. “All four of them?”

“Yeah, I am afraid my boy. I am expecting visitors tonight and quite a lot of them as well.” Bilbo replied with a chuckle.

“Yeah- yeah of course. Give me just a second. I will pack them all for you.” The boy turned around and began to look through his packaging paper, wrapping each fish neatly and peiling them all in front of Bilbo.

“Tell you father, your family can have some of my broccoli and paprika for them.” 

Sago nodded. “He will be pleased with that, I hope. I wish you a great rest day, Master Baggins.” 

Bilbo waved goodbye and left.

His second theorie began to feel more right by the second.

He continued to slander around the other stalls. Having small talk with some of his acquaintances that he had nearly forgotten about in all those years but seemed to remember him quite well. Eventually Bilbo returned back to his home and he was already exhausted. But he had work he had to  focus on. 

When got back to his home he shrugged off his coat and cracked his knuckles. It was about noon now so he should have plenty of time to prepare everything. He walked into his kitchen and placed his bags on the counters before he walked over to one of his cabins and took out his favourite apron. 

He washed his hands and got the things he would need for his first pie out of the pantry. Carefully he started by cutting apples into thin slices so he could place them neatly on the dough later.

Rather quickly his kitchen turned into a mess. Flour was splattered everywhere and his oven was working overtime at this point as well. But his kitchen table was filled with a bunch of beautiful pies and roasted vegetables. He even went as far as making bread with the flour he had to spare. 

It was getting dark outside now and Bilbo seemed to become more nervous by the second.

“Someone will show you, silly Hobbit. Everything will be fine. You know those people.”, he muttered to himself while balancing two plates filled with bread rolls and a bowl of mashed potatoes in his hands. 

 He placed them down and wiped his hands on his apron before breathing deep. “Whatever happens I can handle it. Those dwarven are my friends.” That cannot remember ever meeting you. 

The moment of quiet was interrupted by a heavy knock on his door. Bilbo's eyes snapped towards his door. “Everything will be okay!” he reassured himself. Before he went to open his door he dropped his apron in the kitchen. The visitor at the door knocked again.

“I'm coming.”, Bilbo called out, his voice already breaking. 

Hastily he walked over to his door and opened it. Back at him looked at a very familiar face of a dwarf he grew to like over the months spent with him. 

“Dwalin, at your service.”, he said with a bow. “Bilbo Baggins , at yours.” The Hobbit returned the bow.

Just like the first time around the dwarf walked in without a proper invitation but this time Bilbo wasn't brother by it.

Whilst Dwalin took off his heavy cloak Bilbo got a chance to look his old friend over. He had not seen him in many years, hasn't seen him since the battle and only heard of him through his brother's letters. But Ori had once sent him a painting of the warrior so Bilbo wouldn't forget what they all looked like. His hair was slightly less grey than Bilbo remembered and his tattoos also more prominent. To his knowledge his friend was also very much alive, at the place he was before. It seemed like he was really granted a second chance at this even though he could not say why he had been granted it. He was just a hobbit afterall. 

“Are others here yet?”, Dwalin asked with an even more grumpy voice than usual. 

“Not as off right now I must disappoint.” Dwalin looked at him over his shoulder like he was expecting the hobbit to say more.  “But-”, Bilbo stumbled forward and led Dwlain into his dining room and showed him the filled table. “I have finished dinner so if you´d like you can sit down wherever you want and have some of the food.”

Dwalin only frowned at Bilbo's enthusiasm and placed himself at the nearest corner without another word. Bilbo smiled awkwardly at his friend. Dwalin took a singular bread roll and bit into it. “Very good," he announced. 

“I still have something in the kitchen I should go and…”, yet again he was interrupted by a knock on his door. 

Dwalin had in an enorm speed filled the plate with various things and glanced up at the Hobbit who was staring at his door nervously.  “That'll be the door.”, the dwarf to his right muttered.  

This time he opened the door for Balin. As expected. 

“Balin, at your service.”, the white haired dwarf said with a deep bow. “Bilbo, at yours.”, Bilbo echoed. 

He had heard about Balins passing a couple of years ago. So it felt a bit surreal to look at his deceased friend standing there in his home. Bilbo could feel the tears burning in his eyes. “Are you quite alright, Master Baggins?”, Balin asked concerned. “Yeah. Yeah I am totally fine. Quite alright.” Bilbo dried his eyes with his sleeve. “Can I offer you some food?”, he asked politely. 

He didn't get an answer because at that moment Dwalin walked through the archway smiling brightly at the other dwarf. 

“By my beard, you are shorter and wider than last we met.” Dwalin laughed and opened his arms. “Wider, not shorter. But sharp enough for the both of us.”

Bilbo looked at the brothers fondly. He had a weird feeling of deja-vu which he suspected to have to get used to. 

Bilbo had also forgotten how healthy Balin had looked before the journey. His hair and beard were fuller and his eyes less sunken in than he remembered. The look of sadness was replaced with delight and slight excitement. 

“I hate to interrupt but I made dinner for a lot of you in the dining room. I'll quickly fetch something from the kitchen but please make yourself at home.” The hobbit turned and went into his kitchen to grab the apple pie he made earlier to also place on the dining table. 

He also used this minute of quiet to calm down a bit. If his memory was not mistaken the next knock on the door would be the two princelings. He had to emotionally collect himself to not burst into tears at the sight of them. 

He didn't know if he was quite ready for that.

Back in the other room Balin and Dwalin had fallen into a full blown conversation and did not mind the hobbit a second glance when he entered the room. But Bilbo didn't mind that. He was happy to see the two brothers happily talking with one another. HE placed the pie at the last empty spot on the table. 

“We have not met before have we?”, Balin asked him from his seat across from Dwalin. “No we have not.”, Bilbo replied with a nervous chuckle.

“Alright then. Sometimes my memory plays tricks on me and you seemed so oddly familiar to us so i just assumed. Did the wizard tell you we would be coming?”

“He mentioned it when he left, yes.” Balin nodded at that. 

“The food you prepared is quite delicious, Master Baggins! Are you a professional?”

The hobbit had to suppress a laugh. “Oh no. I am not by far. My mother taught me all her tricks before she passed. And it is quite a hobbit trait to know how to handle food and prepare a good dinner.” 

“Your efforts are greatly appreciated.”, Balin replied smiling, which Bilbo returned. 

Then another knock on the door and Bilbo could feel the blood draining from his face. He tightly clenched his hands to his body and made his way over to his door a third time. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and his breathing picked up.

As he stretched his hand for the door knop he saw them shaking.

Despite his best efforts his eyes were burning with tears the second they fell on the two boys standing in front of him. “Fili” “And Kili” Their bright smiles made Bilbo want to throw up right then and there

“At your service.”, they spoke in unison and bowed deep to the Hobbit. “You must be Mister Boggins.” Kili said before he straightened to his full height again. 

A singular tear escaped and ran down his cheek which Bilbo immediately wiped them away. 

Oh this was going to be impossible.  The hobbit thought to himself. 

“Come in the two of you the-” , his voice cut off . “The others are in the dining room.” 

The young brothers looked at each other before entering. They piled their cloaks on those of Balin and Dwalin. 

“It's this way.”, Bilbo instructed, gesturing towards the archway. Fili and Kili only nodded and followed his directions. 

As soon as the two young dwarves were around the corner a sob fell out of Bilbo. He clutched his hands to his lips trying to suppress the sound. They were alive. His boys. 

Images of their still and cold corpses flashed in front of his eyes and he squeezed them shut. “I don't have time for this. I have guests-” Guests which dead bodies laid in front of you and who you failed to save. A cruel voice interrupted in his head. 

More tears fell down his cheeks and a sickening sound dared to escape his throat. He forced deep breaths into his lungs. “I am a Baggins. I have fought in a war. I can handle a couple of dwarfs.”

His shoulders were still too tight when he joined the others in the dining room. 

Kili glanced at him but said nothing. 

“Do you have another bottle of this red wine, Master Baggins?”Fili asked, holding a half full bottle in his hands. Hearing his voice so cheerfully caught him off guard. “I mean- Yeah of course I do. There should be some in the pantry. I will get it-” 

“Wait!”Kili exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “I can get it as well! If you show me where it is, you can sit down for a second as well!” 

Kili was now standing beside him with a toothy smile on his face. “Yeah sure. Come along.”

Bilbo walked them both into the hallway. 

“The Shire is quite beautiful, Master Boggins. I never had the delight to visit it before.” Bilbo did not have the heart to correct him about the name. It felt so familiar being called that by the young dwarf. 

“Oh I am glad you are liking it. YOu should wait until the morning when you can see all the flowers and trees.”

“That's something to look forward to.” Bilbo nodded in reply. 

The hobbit had led them to the pantry now and Kili gasped. “There's so much food in here, Master Boggins! Are you sure you don't feed more people with that?”

Bilbo chuckled at that remembering a very similar conversation with the younger dwarf in the past. “I live here all by myself Kili. Hobbits just tend to have a lot of food in their houses. It's a way of showing wealth if you will.”

Kili seemed to smile even wider if that was even possible “You hobbits are marvellous creatures.” 

Bilbo gave Kili the wine and led them both from the pantry. But before they could reach the others a fourth knock echoed through the house. 

“That must be the others!”, Kili exclaimed before taking off to the big door and swinging it wide open. 

Just as Bilbo remembered it a pile of eight dwarven crashed on top of another into his house. Behind them emerged Gandalf smirking knowingly at Bilbo. The pile of dwarven let out a series of groans and muffled complaints. Bilbo placed a hand in front of his face to hide his smile. 

Kili on the other hand let out a loud laugh before offering a helping hand to the dwarven laying on the ground. 

“Gandalf.” Bilbo exclaimed. The wizard gave him a faint smile. The dwarven on the floor detangled themselves in the meanwhile. 

Bilbo saw a struggling Bombur on the floor and went over to help him sit up. 

“I am never traveling with so many dwarven at once again.”, he muttered angrily. 

“Well do I have some news for you than brother.”, Bofur hiccuped behind him. Bombur glared at his brother. 

Oh how he had missed his dwarfs. 

After everyone had piled their cloak onto the big pile that was forming in the hobbits hallway they sat down to the rest of the company and filled their plates with the food provided. 

Even Gandalf had squeezed himself next to Dwalin on the left corner of the table. 

“Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Balin and Dwalin. We appear to be one dwarf short.” the grey wizard counted out loud.

“He is late, is all. He travelled north to a meeting of our kin. He will come.”, Dwalin added whilst he lifted his beer mug to his mouth. Some of the foam stayed in his big moustache.

The rest of the table was consumed by the expected chaos. A little less dirty than the first time Bilbo had to admit. But there they were still singing and throwing food at each other to catch all over the place. 

But this time Bilbo found himself not annoyed and grossed out by it or at least not as much as the last time. He had to admit to himself that he had missed their loudness. 

It reminded him of the first couple of weeks after he had returned from Erebor and found the silence deafening. Sleeping suddenly became really hard without the loud snoring all around and for the first time he actually felt alone whilst eating breakfast and dinner, something he had been doing for years before he left. 

But the dwarven had taught him companionship and that was hard to unlearn again.

Bilbo didn't really participate in any of the ongoing conversations. He rather sat back (he had claimed the seat that Thorin had taken the last time because it was the only one available) and listened. 

It was truly a strange feeling to see them all gathered at his dining table for the first time in so many years. The majority of it felt like a series of deja-vus because he knew all of these dwarven and how they behaved, how they ate and knew all of their laughs at heart. (He swore even years later he could tell who was who in a big crowd.) But they still managed to surprise him. At first he thought that might be because it had been because the first time around he was so angry at them and didn't let himself enjoy the chaos and appreciate having people in his house for the first time in months but eventually he realized that it more likely was because it had years since he had seen a lot of them in person.

He knew that he would eventually be confronted with things which he had forgotten about but he had not anticipated it to be so early on. 

That knowledge made his heart break a little bit at a time. 

“Can someone pass me the eggs?”Bombur asked.

 Instead of handing him the bowl of boiled eggs, Bofur took one of them out and threw at Bombur who had already opened his mouth to catch it. The dozen dwarven in his house started screaming and clapping at this. Both of Bomburs arms shot in the air, a big smile plastering his face and small pieces of the food in his well filled mouth landed in his circular red beard. 

Bilbo looked around fondly as he noticed Gandalf's eyes on him. The wizard was smirking and cocked an eyebrow at his seat neighbor. The Hobbit shook his head grinning.

This continued on for a few more minutes until most of the plates were cleared of their food but here and there food had remained unharmed and touched on them. For a second Bilbo thought that it could have been clever to put some of the food aside for their last group member. But it was too late for that now. 

Then in a minute where the others were quieter and the conversations dared to die down Bilbo heard the final knock on his door. 

The moment he had feared the most but had not allowed to think about for too long. 

His hands clenched tightly around his seat before he got up and shakily walked towards the door. 

“That must be uncle Thorin.”, Kili whispered behind Bilbo into Filis ears. 

After that Bilbo didn't hear much else. His hands felt dirty again all of the sudden and he could have sworn that his heart was going to jump right out of his chest any second now. 

With even shakier hands than before he clasped the door knop and let his door swing wide open. 

Thorin had his back turned to him but the sight of his figure alone knocked the breath out of Bilbo's lungs. His throat felt incredibly tight. 

“You made it!”, Kili exclaimed. At that Thorin turned towards his nephew with a kind smile on his face.  Bilbo felt sick. 

“I thought you said this place was easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for the mark of the door.”, his voice was just as deep and smooth as Bilbo remembered it. 

“Mark on the…?”Bilbo asked out loud and looked at his green door in his hands with raised eyebrows, before his memory caught up to him. “Gandalf…”, the hobbit turned towards the wizard who only grinned down at him. 

The wizard had carved an invisible rune into the door that Bilbo had forgotten about. 

“So…”, Thorin said. He looked down at Bilbo. His blue eyes were just as bright as Bilbo remembered them. He focused entirely on his emotions and body movements so he wouldn't strangle the dwarf in front of him in a hug or worse. The room around him started spinning. He carefully and slowly closed the door using it as  a thing to hold him upright.

 “This is the Hobbit.” The dwarf started to circle the hobbit and Bilbo felt uneasy under his gaze. “You tell me, Master Baggins, have you done much fighting?” 

The correct answer would be yes. He had done a lot of fighting in the twelve months he had shared with the company. But wouldn't that be a bit suspicious to them now? 

A middle aged hobbit of Bag End who had (up until this point in this timeline) never set foot outside of the Shire and had not battle scars to prove anything, was suddenly an semi expert at swords?

Bilbo swallowed. “Probably not as much as you but I can work with a sword quite well.” That earned him an approving nod from Throrin and a confused look from Gandalf.

“I have to admit I am surprised at that.” “Never underestimate a hobbit.” Bilbo replied before he could think about what better to do. 

Thorin only frowned deeply at him and then turned away heading towards the rest of the company. Bilbo let out a deep breath. 

Chapter Text

“What did the dwarves of the Iron Hill say? Is Dain with us?”?”, Dwalin asked and took another sip from his mug.

Thorin let his spoon fall back into his soup bowl. He hesitated to give his answer. Bilbo knew what it was going to be and understood Thorin's hestiance. Everyone at the table was staring at Thorin at the head of the table. Bilbo had decided to once again place himself behind his friends. 

“They will not come”, he said with a quiet voice. “They say this quest is ours and ours alone.” 

“But isn't this about them as well?”, Bilbo asked out loud.

Several eyes turned to him. “What do you mean, Master Burglar?”, Thorin asked.

“I mean if you are to set off to get your kingdom back and fight wouldn't that mean that sooner or later the dwarfs of the Iron Hill would be included anyway?”

The dwarfs around him frowned deep and some nodded with their heads in agreement. 

Bilbo knew that he was pushing it by saying stuff like this. He knew that he should try to be careful and not give away too much but… There was in the end all too much on the line if he would shut his mouth every time he might dare to betray his old friends' trust. There are greater things than their trust and far more important things on the like than Bilbo's feelings. He had to rist them misstrusting and disliking him, if that meant he could keep their hearts beating. 

“It is more difficult than this. But I can assure you that in time of need Dain Ironfoot will be there and fight alongside us.” This was enough to satisfy Bilbo's worries for a bit, he decided. He technically already knew that Thorin's words were true but hearing Thorin being so sure about it as well calmed the hobbit a bit.

“Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light.”, the wizard cut in. Bilbo nodded and grabbed a candle from the storage room behind him. 

He handed it over to Gandalf and the wizard lit it with the tips of his fingers. The magic which the wizard was able to control never failed to amaze Bilbo even after nearly 100 years of knowing him.

“Far in the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak.”, spoke the wizard. 

Bilbo leaned over Thorin's shoulder and looked at the map, which he had once framed in this very room for many years. 

“The lonely mountain.”, read out loud barely above a whisper. 

“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold.”, Oin spoke. The medic. Bilbo stopped himself from smiling at the memories that washed over him. Oin had been very dear to him as well. He adored the dwarf for all the wisdom the hobbit never had the chance to gain. 

“When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.” 

Kili and Fili rolled their eyes at the dramatic way Oin said this. They had probably heard this dozens of times before. 

And despite knowing who Oin was referring to Bilbo asked “What beast?” He put his best effort into sounding like he wasn't secretly absolutely terrified of this beast already. Like he had not faced it before and had spoken to it. 

“Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, Extremely fond of precious metals.”, Fili replied. His eyes grew wide and he tried to symbolise the grand scheme of his descriptions with his arms. “Yes, I know what a dragon is.”, Bilbo replied with a smile creeping onto his face.

Bilbo could practically feel Thorin rolling his eyes at the enthusiasm of his nephew. He had never been the biggest fan of them being so excited about the great dangers of this world at the beginning of this journey. 

In hindsight Bilbo found it quite precious. He had grown used to their faces torn apart by fear and worry and seeing them behaving like the children they had been was quite nice. But it also made him sad to think about how young they only had been. 

It had been one of the smaller things he had forgotten about. Towards the end Fili and Kili had not behaved like fawnlings anymore. The journey had forged them into warriors who had to pretend to be fearless, but right now sitting at his dining table they did not have to pretend and after seeing too many young faces pretending to be fearless in his lifetime Bilbo found himself quite relieved. 

“This task to win back the mountain is not an easy one. It would have been difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just fifteen.” Balin had not been keen on Thorin's plan, Bilbo remembered now. 

The dwarf had followed because of loyalty to Thorin not because he had wanted to. 

“Not fifteen of the best. Nor brightest.”, his eyes quickly traced his fellow company in suspicion. 

THe others objected, clearly feeling insulted. They were shouting all over each other trying to argue with Balin who did not share one more thought of his. 

Thorin stood up and the dining table fell silent. Bilbo took a step back, candle still in hand. 

“If we have read these sighs, do you not think others will have read them too?” His voice was traced with anger as he glared at his company.

“Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug had not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk.”

Thorin glanced more kindly at the other dwarfs now. 

“Perhaps the cast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back as others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?”

All the dwarfs jumped to their feet and raised their arms in the air and cheered. The hobbit watched the scene and felt the same enthusiasm he had felt all those years ago at these words as well. This time though he was not afraid anymore. 

“You forget, the front gate is sealed! There is no way into the mountain.”, Balin had also risen to his feet. 

The others fell back into their chairs disappointed. 

When Smaug had first attacked he had come in through the front gates and had after killing all the dwarfs inside sealed them off again by piling the scattered stones into it. 

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.”, Gandalf spoke up. 

The wizards reached into his pockets and pulled out an old looking key. It looked big, even in the wizard's hands. 

Thorin's eyes went wide at the sight of it whilst some others frowned. 

“How came you by this?”, he whispered in wonder. 

“It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now.”, Gandalf replied. 

The wizards handed the key over to Thorin. The king's eyes were glistered with something that Bilbo could not place. 

You don't know him as well anymore as you used to, how sad. The small voice in Bilbo's head cut in. The hobbit shook his head. 

“These ruins speak of another passage into the lower halls.”, Gandalf continued. 

“There's another way in.”; Fili muttered in disbelief. 

“Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are incredible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in his map and I do not have the skills to read it. But there are others in Middle earth who can.”

 Lord Elrond in Rivendell for example. Bilbo thought. 

“The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.” 

“That's why we need a burglar?”Oin cut in and looked at Bilbo. 

“A good one too. An expert, I´d imagine.”, Kili replied. 

Bilbo looked at Gandalf whose eyes were already set on the Hobbit. “And are you?”, he asked, “An expert?” Bilbo smirked. 

Gandalf nodded. 

“I am no burglar.”, Bilbo replied honestly. Even after the journey he had never considered himself one. “But I have stolen a thing or two at the markets when I was younger. I cannot promise you that I am the best you could find but I swear I will try my best to fulfill your expectations.”

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves!”, Dwalin intervened. 

Gandalf rose to his feet and slammed his fist onto the wooden table. “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. If they choose to, they can wander ways and be unnoticed by others! The dragon is used to the smell of dwarfs but the scent of a hobbit is unknown to him, giving us a distinct advantage.”

Most of the Company had their eyes glued to their plates now and did not dare to look up at the wizard anymore. Only two of them had their gaze fixed on him. 

Dwalin and Thorin. 

The two of them stood their ground. Or at least Dwalin did. Thorin did not display his disapproval as obvious as he did the first time around but that did not stop his best friend from doing the same. 

Gandalf turned his attention to Thorin now. “You asked me to find you another member for your Company and I have chosen Mister Baggins! There is a lot more to him that his looks might suggest. He can provide qualities that we will need for our journey. He might not know this himself either. You will have to trust me on this Thorin.”, Gandalf let himself fall back into his chair. 

Thorin frowned at Gandalf's words before he nodded in approval. 

“Very well. The wizard has chosen the Hobbit so he may be a part  of this as well as every last one of you is as well. Balin, be so kind and hand him the contract.”

Balin opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue with Thorin but chose against. A bit annoyed he leaned back into his chair and pulled out the very long and thick piece of fouled parchment which Bilbo knew all too well. 

The sorcerer handed the document slowly to Thorin who ripped it out of his hands and without looking at Bilbo pushed it into his chest. 

“It's just the usual stuff. Pocket expense , time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements and so on.”, the dwarf smiled awkwardly at Bilbo who returned the gesture just as unsure.  

He remembered the first time he had held that contract. Partly because it was a rather embarrassing experience for him. (He did faint at the mention of being burned alive, mind you it did not leave a good impression on the rest of the company) But also because he remembered the excitement he had felt. Yes, he had been afraid but a part, a part that turned out to be bigger than the other, was extremely exciting. 

Till this day he blamed his mother sometimes. Her and her bedtime stories about a Gentle hobbit who would go on great adventures and save the world in one way or the other. 

As he was holding the piece of parchment again now he felt the same excitement grumbling in his chest. He was excited to see the mountains again and travel trough dark forests and such. 

But he also felt the responsibility he had this time. The first time around his only job had been to get thirteen dwarves back home. He had not known what would happen and could therefore not try to prevent it. 

He did not have this privilege now. 

He knew very well where the orcs and trolls lurked at night. He knew which buttons to push on the elves so they would let them pass through their forest. But worst of all he knew how and when they would die. 

He recalled almost all of the events that would lead up to the unavoidable the first time around and as of right now he did not know which ones would garantie a prevention now. 

Bilbo knew that his chances were very likely not in his favor. Fate rarely was. But there had to be a reason he was sent back here by Yavannah so he assumed them not to be impossible. Two options came to his mind almost immediately. He did not have to think twice over what he would do. 

There was simply no other choice for him than to pack his back and follow his friends into the inevitable once more and pray to Mahal and Yavannah that they would spare him the cruel fate he had to endure a long time ago. 

Bilbo glanced down at the contract laying (still folded up) in his hands and made up his mind at that very moment. His eyes briefly wandered over the dwarfs and the wizard in front of him, lingering at the younger brothers to his right and the dark haired dwarf right in front of him. 

He cleared his throat. “I'll join you. Hand me a quill and I'll sign it.”

“My dear Bilbo,”Gandalf huffed a nervous laugh “You didn't read the contract fully, are you sure?”

The hobbit side glazed at Gandalf. “Yes, I am. Now please, does someone have a quill or pencil?” 

Kili and Fili started cheering. “We knew it! The Hobbit will help us take back the Mountain.”, the two of them jumped up and down and even the older dwarfs around them seemed quite relieved. 

Bilbo was handed a pen by Balin which he took glady and put his signature right at the bottom of the page. 

With a kind smile he handed the contract back to Balin who looked at the signature through his mini magnifying glass. As if he did not just see me sign it in person. Bilbo thought to himself.

“Well, everything seems to be in order.”, he carefully stuffed his glass back into his pockets. “Seems like we have our Burglar.” 

“We will leave first thing in the morning, you better be prepared, Master Burglar.”, Thorin announced.

The dwarf rose from his chair dismissing his leftover soup and vanished through the hallway. “This also included the rest of you. We will not wait for a single one of you.” Muffled agreements echoed through the dining room. 

The others also started to get up and some of them even took the time to clean their place a little bit and looked at Bilbo whilst holding dirty dishes waiting to be instructed where to put them. 

The wizard had also gotten up from his chair and was now crouching next to Bilbo so he wouldn't hit his head. He placed his hand on the hobbits shoulder. “I am glad you chose to do this, Bilbo Baggins. Great things will await you out there.” With that he left as well without waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah, I am sure they will.”, Bilbo added but rather to himself. 

“Uhm, Mister Boggins. Where exactly are we supposed to put the dirty dishes now?”, Kili asked with raised eyebrows. The dwarf held what felt like half of the plates that had been placed onto the table. 

Next to him stood Ori and Fili with even more dishes in their hands waiting for an instruction. 

“Oh, yes of course. Follow me! The kitchen is down there.” Bilbo hastily grabbed a couple of dirty cuttery and half finished bowls with food still left in them and led the trio of young dwarfs down into his kitchen. 

The three of them turned out to be great helpers with cleaning up the mess the others had caused. Rather quickly they worked out a rhythm in which the dirty dishes seemed to clean themselves. All three of them were humming various tunes whilst washing and juggling plates, forks, knives and mugs and Bilbo enjoyed every second of it. 

Chapter Text

That night Bilbo fell asleep to the company singing in his living room. They had not done it often even in his first lifetime (he was not sure whether or not he was okay with actually being reborn (or whatever was going on) yet) so he grew to cherish each time he got the delight of listening to their voices echoing through his home or the night.

The song they were singing now was the one they sang the least. But it was his favourite.

It was the one of their lost home. The story of the day that Smaug had attacked. 

The lyrics were not the only reason the hobbit liked this song so much, even though the meaning and the feeling that it passed on, touched his heart even decades later and never failed to make him cry. 

After he had returned home all those years ago he had never heard anyone beside Thorin mutter the song anymore. So you could say he was a bit biased to the voice of his beloved dwarf. 

Over the years Bilbo's sleep was tormented by horrible dreams that left the hobbit gasping for air. Thorin's death being the most prominent one. But sometimes his mind would play tricks on him and let him pretend that even just for a second everything was fine.

He would have this periodically, where he would meet all these strangers one by one, introducing himself to all of them until eventually they would form a great group of friends like they were always meant to be. He would set these events into motion and he knew they would inevitably die, but tonight in the warm light of the setting sun he does not feel it. the fear which goes hand in hand with those dreams. He just sees the sunset through his window in his small bedroom and the voices of the dwarfs echoing through his house. Tears stain his face, but he smiles at the sun nonetheless, letting himself pretend everything will be alright this time. Deep down he feels the fear clinging to his bones. 

Bilbo stirred under the sunlight creeping through his curtains tickling his face. He felt far too comfortable to get up. He wiggled his toes and stretched his arms before nuzzling into his soft pillow.

The melody of dwarfish songs was now replaced by the quietness of a morning. Birds chirped outside and far in the distance you could hear the first Hobbits starting their day, already chatting away at the almost empty market.  

Bilbo turned away from the sun, hoping he could steal just a few more minutes of sleep in his own bed. His ears perked up at the sound of heavy foodsteps down the hallway. Bilbo yawned deeply before half forcing himself out of bed. 

He had indeed remembered that he promised to feed 13 dwarfs breakfast before their departure. 

And by the sound of it one of them was up and about already.  

Careful to stay quiet Bilbo got dressed in a set of clean clothes which included his favourite red vest he had bought just a few weeks ago. It had been a lucky find. “You wont find anything like, Mister Baggins! It was made from the finest fabric from far away.”, the hobbit at the market had told him. He liked the way it hugged his body just in the right places. 

He let his hands run down his sides and straighten the fabric out beneath them. 

Bilbo took a deep breath and puffed his chest a little. “There are lives on the line, Bilbo Baggins. You better not fuck this up.”, he muttered to himself. at least that had been his plan he came up with last night. 

Yavannah had granted him a second chance and he knew he had to use it well. He had to try to save his friends. This time he knew it would happen and how. Now he had a year to figure out how to prevent it without causing more damage and potentially losing more souls than necessary. 

Bilbo knew very well that this would not be an easy task. He could not trust his fighting instincts anymore that he once had, by the gods he had not wielded a sword in combat in over 60 years. The only thing he could fall back on was his knowledge and he would do his very best to use it well. That he had sworn himself. 

Careful to not wake anyone else Bilbo walked into his hallway, avoiding the creaking floorboards. 

Slowly but surely he reached his well loved kitchen. To his surprise the guest he had heard earlier granted his presence. 

“Good morning, Master Burglar.”, Thorin said, before taking another sip out of one of Bilbo's coffee mugs. 

“Good morning, Master Oakenshield. I hope you did sleep well?” The hobbit shot an uneasy look at the dwarf standing next to his kitchen table. He walked awkwardly into his kitchen, feeling uneasy under the dwarven king's gaze. His hands shook slightly which he tried to hide by clasping them together in front of his belly. 

“I have slept in worse circumstances.” The hobbit nodded understanding.

Thorin had lived months on the run before and was well accustomed to bad sleeping situations. Bilbo wished he could kick himself at that moment. Stupid insensitive Hobbit!

In a desperate attempt to make the situation less awkward Bilbo cleared his throat. 

“Well, I promised breakfast yesterday. So I better get that going now before the rest wakes up as well.” 

“The others would be fine without one I can assure you, Master Baggins. No need to waste valuable resources now.” 

Bilbo's yaw hit the floor and he chuckled nervously. “With all due respect, Master Oakenshield, but none of you will leave my house, or any hobbit house, without a proper breakfast.” Bilbo rested his hands on his hips, genuinely upset by Thorin's request.  

Thorin glanced at Bilbo face still neutral, but for an instant Bilbo could swear he saw the glistering look they got evenever the dwarf desperately tried to hide his smile. 

The dwarf cleared his throat. “Well, Well.” Thorin nodded softly. “Then I wont bother you making breakfast for the company. And I appreciate the effort you have already put into us.” 

In one swift motion Throin placed his empty coffee mug into the sink and walked over to the archway which connected the kitchen with the hallway, before he turned back around. Thorin placed a warm hand on Bilbo's shoulder which caused a shiver to run down his spine. “And you might get into trouble with Bombur down the line if you continue to provide food. He's very serious about his craft.” And then he was gone. 

The weight of the hand is still ghosting on his shoulder. It had felt so strangely familiar and Bilbo immediately yearned to feel his touch again. He wished he could hug him. Show all of them how much he had missed their company. Years of mourning and longing that Bilbo had to suppress now. 

But Bilbo knew what Thorin meant by mentioning Bombur. Bombur had not necessarily been cruel whenever he felt disrespected in his crafting skills but if you knew him well enough you could see the disappointment in his body language. It had taken Bilbo a few months the first time around to understand what small things like helping Bombur to cook meant in a bigger picture.

For Bilbo it had meant that he was simply helping. But for Bombur it meant that Bilbo was questioning his ability to cook, his greatest gift in life.

Bilbo had apologized profusely to Bombur after he had realized and things had been fine in the end between the two of them but still. Bilbo had no ambition to repeat that part of his past. 

With a small smile on his face (oh how he missed conversations with Thorin) he put on his favourite apron. It had many little red mushrooms on it, he had gotten it a few years ago at the market from some hobbit that no longer lived in the shire.

The mushrooms were hand stitched and he adored it. In his first life he had lost this apron in the auction and was never able to get it back from whoever got it. 

 He was even more happy to finally be able to wear it again.

He proceeded to prepare the most delicious and various breakfast a Baggins had ever set up, with the obstacle of having a nearly empty pantry. (Or at least he tried) He may or may not have underestimated how much dwarfs ate. Bilbo had made pancakes and waffles (because he knew that those were the ones that Kili and Fili prefered), he made a fresh fruit salad (for Bofur and Ori) and of course various forms of eggs and bacon and bread. 

As he was preparing breakfast he noticed that he never got to learn what Thorin or Dwalin's preferred breakfasts were. A wave of grief washed over him like anytime he thought he had forgotten a detail about his friends or he realized he had learned a part of them not at all. He had travelled with these dwarfs for a good year and a bit and never asked.  

He just hoped that the breakfast he had made now would satisfy everyone. 

With Gandalf in mind the Hobbit even got out his more appropriate sized cups and cutlery so the wizard would be able to eat well. He had gotten it a while back from Hamfast who didn't know what to do with it and Bilbo had been looking for oversized cutterly, just in case he would need it one day. 

Sometimes, late at night he had wondered if the gods had arranged this meeting. His house, even the first time around, just seemed to be prepared to host a company of thirteen, with no apparent reason.

“Master Boggins, these waffles are absolutely delicious!" Kili complimented, his mouth stuffed with waffles. Fili and Ori nodded in agreement. 

“Thank you, Kili.” Bilbo replied with a smile.  The other had gathered around the table as well, happily eating the provided food. Bilbo was pleased to see the dwarfs enjoy his breakfast. Even Bombur complimented his fruit cutting for the salad and his scrambled eggs.  

—----------------

After breakfast Bilbo's home was just pure chaos. Some of the dwarfs had helped him wash the dishes and put them away in the places that Bilbo instructed them to. 

But soon after everyone started packing their things and gathering as many resources as they could from the hobbit home.

Bilbo, of course, had given them permission to look through his stuff in case they needed anything. Ori and Balin had packed another set of blankets, they found in a wooden chest in Bilbo's living room. Ori had also asked Bilbo if he could take some of his inkwells for his studies he had planned on doing whilst they travelled. 

Fili on the other hand asked to lend one of his cutting knives because he claimed it to be one of the more useful ones and promptly hid it in one of his furry boots. 

Eventually all the dwarfs, Gandalf and Bilbo finished packing and were ready to leave. The first time around Bilbo had not known where the dwarfs had left their ponies before their nightly stay. This mystery however was not solved as he turned around to face the path in front of his house after he had closed his door and saw that the horses were all tied to his small fence feeding away happily. 

The hobbit stared at his beloved front yard which was being completely destroyed by some dwarven ponies in shock.  to make his front yard look like that had been a lot of work and even though Hamfast did quite a lot of that, Bilbo did as well. It broke Bilbo's heart just a bit seeing it right now.

But his eyes searched for some very special pony immediately. He had not seen Myrle in over seventy years since she ran away from the company and had just nearly forgotten about her all together. But there she was just as he remembered her. Myrtle stood in between two other ponies (Bilbo could not remember if they had a name or who they belonged to)

A soft smile grew on his face at the sight of the pony. 

“Well, well. Bilbo Baggins. I had not expected to see you being so excited about going on this journey.”, Gandalf said from down by the gate. 

Bilbo snickered. “Life is full of surprises, Gandalf.” The grey wizard smiled in reply. 

“Everyone mount you horses. We are leaving now!” Thorin exclaimed, already sitting on his pony (Bilbo did not recall if it had a name or not.) 

Dwalin stood behind hom on his right, also sitting on a horse, looking as grumpy as usual. Kili and Fili had also already claimed two horses and packed them with their bags and other things Bilbo could not make out from afar. 

The Ur-Brothers had been talking to one another, arguing about who should take which pony and if Bombur should take one at all, which was corrected by Balin who told them to just do it and quit arguing, before Thorin had yelled out the command and were now hurrying to get onto whatever horse was nearest. 

Bilbo now hurried down the small pathway, leading to his house and past Gandalf who held the gate open for him. He used his fence as a small ladder to get himself onto Myrtle's back. 

“Hello, my girl.”, Bilbo whispered into her mane and stroked her neck. Myrtle gave a quiet sound as if she understood him. 

Careful not to fall back off the back of the pony Bilbo turned around to secure his backpack onto the side of him. Other things had already been strapped onto the pony.

Suddenly a warm hand placed itself onto Bilbo's shoulder.

“Are you ready, Master Burglar, for the adventure of our lifetime?”, Bofur asked with his typical toothy grin.

“As ready as I’ll ever be," Bilbo replied. Deep down underneath the fake smiles and chuckles he felt the fear clinging to his bones. The rush of panic which crept through him every time he heard Kili or Filis laugh. But he was certain: This time he would not mess up. This time they were going to live! 

Chapter Text

Their journey began just like Bilbo had remembered it. Everyone, especially the younger dwarfs (which included just Kíli , Fíli  and Ori) were singing with others like Bofur and Bombur occasionally joining in. They were all laughing and telling jokes. 

Everything felt easy and light. No one was worried about what was next to come, well everyone except Thorin, Balin and Dwalin who all looked very serious and not at all amused by the shenanigans. And to their defences that was ought to be expected. They knew what it was like to stand on a burning battlefield and what it is like to bury loved ones after the ashes had cooled down and bodies were able to be recovered. 

No one but Bilbo knew that he also knew what that felt like, to stand on top of layers of sticky blood. The feeling of it not leaving their feet even after days of scrubbing. 

But no one had to know. That was something between the gods and him. He had no plans to ever tell any of them about it. Not that he had to. No one would expect a hobbit, especially him, to have seen the horrors of a raging war. 

It was a rather warm April day. Birds could be heard in the distance and seen flying across the sky. 

Birds had always been one of his favourite animals and he admired them for their ability to just… take off. Often he had wondered what it was like to fly. 

Well technically he knew, because he had flown with the eagles all those years ago but he knew that it would be an entirely different thing to do this on his own with his own wings instead of being carried. 

The first flowers blossomed on the sidewalk. Bilbo let his gaze wander over them in passing. 

At first he paid no attention to their meaning. Truely, he rarely does nowadays. But for 

for some reason they caught his attention. He frowned deeply as he tired to identify the white, pink and purple flowers next to him. 

The easiest were the small carpet of snow drops. He remembered seeing them often at the `Winter Ends`fests in the shire which he loved to attend year after year, mainly because they served the best food there. 

Next were the Lilies. There were not a lot of them, there rarely were. But Bilbo loved them nonetheless. It made him truly happy whenever he got to seem them in the wild. 

In between bloomed hycintheses and bleeding hearts. The odd combinations of those flowers made Bilbo wonder.

In the many many years he had been alive he had not seen these four types of flowers grow so closely to each other. Especially because some of them typically stopped blooming at the end of march. It was now the end of April. 

He tried to think nothing of it and forced his eyes back on the road in front of him instead to his sides. But something was bothering him and made his stomach feel funny. 

As he glanced one last time at the flowers to try to reassure himself that nothing was wrong with them and that it must be the weather differences that made snowdrops bloom in late spring, when it clicked. The flowers spelled a message. A message to him.

When Bilbo was younger his mother had taught him how to read flowers. At first he loved it but as he grew older, more complicated flowers were added to the list and their meaning tangled themselves in his head. A knot he was unable to unwind which frustrated his mother a lot who claimed that the flower language was one of the easiest for a fawn to learn. 

He knew the basics but even those tend to slip past his memory sometimes. But there they were the meaning of the flowers right in front of him spelled out. Clearer than they had ever been before. 

Snowdrops for a rebirth and hope.

Hycinaths for the desire for forgiveness.

Bleeding hearts symbolising love destroyed through sorrow. 

And Lilies as a symbol for luck. 

A shiver ran down Bilbo's body. The flowers were not random ones. They were here to give him hope. To make him understand, that the gods had understood how he felt but they believed that he could make things turn out the right way. 

The next breath Bilbo took felt a little lighter than the one before. Hope sparkled in him. And maybe… just maybe, fate would be on side this time. 

_____________________

After a couple of hours Bilbo got painfully reminded that he had not ridden a horse in years. He had completely forgotten how much his back, legs and but hurt after sitting in a rather uncomfortable saddle and being shaken. 

He tried to subtly change position by clutching his legs tighter, which only made Myrtle stop in her tracks, being completely caught off guard. So Bilbo resolved into just… enduring it the best way he could. 

“Have you never ridden a horse before, laddie?” Bofur chackled behind him. 

The hobbit sighed. “I did, but it has been a while.” “I thought the shire to be a place where you  hobbits rode a lot.”

  “Well, Hobbits tend to be too small to ride a pony, especially a horse.”

Bofur frowned. “Aińt you right about that, laddie.”

An uncomfortable silence grew over the two.

“The shire is as beautiful as I imagined it to be.”, Bofur cleared his throat. “I always wanted to visit it! Imagine my delight when Thorin told us we would have to travel here to pick you up!.”

He shot Bilbo a toothy smile. 

“I didn't know that you dwarfs knew that the shire exists. Very little folk do nowadays.”

“Our mum.” He vaguely gestured towards Bombur and Bifur. “Used to tell us these bed times stories about the place. I believe she had been to Bree once and saw it in passing. She was fascinated by it till the day she died. Always wanted to go back, you know?”His tone shifted as he talked. 

“I am sorry she never got to visit it again.” The hobbit genuinely felt bad for the dwarf. He had felt the same after he had visited Rivendell for the first time after his mother and father had passed. 

“I think that wherever she is now, it is just as pretty.” Bofur replied with an unsure smile. 

Bilbo only nodded. 

“Did you grow up in Ered Luid?” Bilbo asked after a bit. He frowned. 

Bofur's mood shifted as he spoke about his childhood in the mountains. His carefree smile returned onto his face and he told Bilbo about the beautiful landscape, the kind dwarfs who he was well acquainted with (or at least some of them) and the food he missed so much. 

Bilbo realized as he spoke that he didn't know much about the childhood of any of the dwarfs. Well, he knew a bit about Ori, Kili and Fili but those were also just little anecdotes he pieced together over time. 

“Oh and then there were the days of course where the dwarfs from Erebor arrived in town. They were so little. Roughly 6000 I believe there were. They lost so many dwarfs in the attack as well as the way to the blue mountains. Horrible, truly.”

“Wait, you were alive for that? I always thought that was so long ago…”

Bofur doubled over. “How old do you think I am? I am well of age, Burglar let me tell you that. I was not one of the older ones when they arrived, but I am not so young.”

“I do apologize if I insulted you.” Bilbo grimaced 

“You're all good, laddie.” he sniggered. “I had barely seen them. I had just turned 46 a couple of weeks earlier. They kept to themselves at first anyway. Especially the dwarfs that were left of the royal family. Even though you could spot Thorin and Dwalin in the forge downtown from time to time. And of course Kili and Fili.”

Bilbo looked up at Bofur confused. “What about them?” “Of any of them I saw them the most. Always running around in town. Always polite and they never did anything uncalled for but they were loud. Most people liked them. Fili and Ori are around the same age so they became friends. I believe they even shared some lessons before Fili was taken in under his mother for his education.”

“Fili and Ori were childhood friends? I mean that makes sense but…” Bofur chuckled. “They were inseparable. Not as bad as he and Kili of course but Fili came over at least 3 times a week, our mothers owned the largest bakery in the town with the best bread and pastry in all of Ered Luin. Most of the time they rushed in, got a loaf of bread or two and vanished to do whatever. I never really bothered to ask.”

A wave of sadness washed over Bilbo. “I did not know that…” he whispered. Bofur had not heard what the hobbit had muttered but was confused by the overly emotional reaction. 

“All three of us used to help out in the bakery whenever we could but only Bombur really enjoyed it. He got on quite well with the two of them. Bombur and his connection to Fili was the reason why Thorin took us on this journey. Well, he only asked Bombur at the beginning but my lovely brother refused to leave without us so here we are now.” 

Bilbo averted his gaze from Bofur to in front of him. Barely in his sight, covered by Bombur and Bifur, were Kili and Fili on their ponies. The two brothers riding side by side laughing at a joke the other probably just told. Bilbo was stunned at how young they looked right now. 

Over the months spent on the road they had matured so much. They became children forced to grow up too fast and they never got to see the place they sacrificed childhood to, so willingly, in all its glory. Only tainted by the greed of Thorin under the dragon sickness. 

But surely just behind Kili, also laughing, was Ori bickering with the other two. 

How had he missed this the entire time? Had he not paid enough attention or had he simply forgotten? But he would not forget things about the people that mattered much to him. Not something as important as this. But now that Bofur had told him he saw it. Their crystal clear connection only childhood best friends had. The blind trust in battle and the deep care Fili had for Ori the first time around. Always checking where the other one was and if he was okay.

He suddenly remembered letters filled with detailed drawings of the two princes he received from Ori over the years, how he had been able to write the parts with them in them so alive. He was able to do that because he had known them. He had grown up with them and Bilbo never asked. Never cared to know just a bit more. 

His chest grew tighter and he clutched at the reins in his hands. 

“Hey hey, Master Baggins are you alright? Are you crying?”Bofur's voice pulled Bilbo back to reality. Quickly he wiped his eyes, his sleeve coming back wet. 

“Oh no no, everything's fine. I am just… I am allergic to horses and ponies, that's it!”, he tried to cover his breaking voice with a fake chuckle. 

“Oh, Master Baggins, why did you not say anything? Here take this!” Bofur ripped a part of his shirt. It looked rather dirty and disgusting but Bilbo took it gladly anyway. 

“Thank you.” Bilbo said “And it's Bilbo, not Master Baggins.”, he added with a smile. 

Borfur smiled back at him. “Bilbo, it is then.” 

—-----------------------------

Uneven roads and paths tangled with large trees and rocks made it difficult for their ponies to keep walking towards the late afternoon. 

Their backs were packed with heavy bags (and a LOT of them at that) and on top of that, each of them had to carry a hefty dwarf. Most of them had their heads down and ears laid on. Some of them even started to stumble over the rocks and sticks scattered over the path they were walking on.

The dwarfs grew more concerned each hour and started debaiting where the best place would be to rest for the night. But Thorin kept on insisting that they could keep going and that they could push their ponies just a little longer. 

If the dwarf had been riding in front of Bilbo he would have already told him how stupid that that was. Everyone, not just the ponies, was exhausted and the idea of wanting to keep going was just putting everyone at risk of getting injured. But the hobbit kept his mouth shut and tried to soothe Myrtle instead. 

The sun had started to set when Thorin finally declared that it was time to set up a camp and rest for the night. Everyone jumped off of their ponies almost immediately and Bilbo swore that if they could the ponies would sigh in relief. 

Like a well trained role play the dwarfs set into motion after that. 

Some of them tied the ponies to nearby trees and started to feed them some of the apples they had brought from Bilbo's pantry. (Bilbo himself had sneaked an apple at some point and gave it Myrtle when no one was looking.) 

Dwalin had set off to look around the place they were supposed to be staying to check if anyone was nearby and risked them getting killed in their sleep. 

Bilbo recognized the open cave they were staying at, even though it was a very blurry memory. There was of course the open cave that would cover all the company during the night in case it started to rain. On the opposite side of that was a huge cliff reaching down deep, so deep in fact that Bilbo was unable to see the ground. Pine trees lined the edge of the cliff, kinda like a fence. Most of the ponies were tied to those trees and everyone just prayed that they would not accidentally fall into the abyss at night. 

In the cave Kili, Fili and Ori had been instructed to light up a fire. Bilbo found it quite amusing, watching the three trying to light it and failing again and again. After their 15th failed attempt an very annoyed Bombur walked over, took flint and steel and not even 20 seconds later flames emerged from the small twig pile the young dwarfs had collected. All three of their jaws fell openü in disbelief and even Bilbo was impressed at the red beards abilities. 

Bombur had, before he walked over, started to set up their dinner which by the looks of it was going to be roasted potatoes and some kind of chopped up meat, he also recognized from his pantry. 

“Can you teach us how to do that?”, Ori asked in awe. Bombur glanced at the young dwarf but nodded to which Ori's face broke into a large grin. 

The three dwarfs smiled at each other as if they just won the biggest prize. “Surely, you will teach us as well?” Kili asked, all excited. “Of course I will!” Kili clapped excitingly.

“We will be so cool! We can light a fire every evening at dinner or when it's cold when we reach the mountains to the east! Or we can throw burning things at…”

Before Fili could finish his rambling an orc scream cut through the night. Everyone's attention was on the forest beneath their hideout spot immediately. 

A cold shiver ran down Bilbo's spine. It had been decades since he heard those screams the last time in person. They only hunted his dreams ever since. 

“Orcs”, Kili whispered into the night. 

The tension between the dwarfs grew thick. Everyone suddenly became very aware of how life threatening this journey could be. They were out in the wild, with no proper way to protect themselves just yet. At any minute they could be ambushed and slayed in their sleep. Without a warning. Without mercy. 

Bodies cracking open on hard stone, legs breaking in all different directions and the pained scream of Kili at the sight of his dead brother to his feed, Bolg laughing at orcs screaming, the memory played itself in Bilbo's mind and just for a second he felt like he couldn't breath. His hands clenched to his sides and his shoulders tensed painfully. 

“Throat-cutters, there’ll be dozens of them out there.”, Fili added. 

Images of orc armies approaching Dale, thousands of them flashed in front of the Hobbits eyes. 

“The lone-lands are crawling with them. They strike in the wee small hours when everyone’s asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams, just a lot of blood.” 

Kili and Fili laughed quietly as if this was one elaborate joke. As if Bilbo could not see their dead bodies lying in front of him right now, the black blood clinging to his feed and Thorins rattling breaths echoing in his ears. 

Bilbo clenched his eyes shut tightly, trying to get rid of the images to little avail.

A warm and heavy hand placed itself on his shoulder. “Do you think this is some kind of joke? Getting slaughtered in your sleep?”, a stern voice spoke behind him. The warmth of the hand grounded him. He felt his feet touching the gavel again and his shoulders relaxed slightly. Thorin must have seen that Bilbo relaxed and took his hand off the Hobbits shoulder again. But the warmth lingered for just a moment. 

“We didn’t mean anything by it, Oncle.” Kili admitted with his head hung low. “Of course you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.” Thorin spit back. 

“Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin had more cause than most to hate orcs.”, Balin explained. Bilbo knows the story of Azog and his history with the Durin Folk and how he killed Thorins grandfather Thror first and planned on killing all of them second. He wanted to get rid of the line of Durin for good. 

Thrain had gone missing in the same battle that Thrain was beheaded in. It was their desperate attempt to regain Moria after they had lost Erebor. In the years he had spent alone in Bag End he researched those battles that Thorin had fought in and found out that Frerin, Thorin's younger brother and Vili, Dis’s husband, had also fallen in the Battle of Moria. 

But Bilbo had not the strength to interrupt Balin right now so he let him tell the story. 

“Our forces rallied… and drove the Orks back and our enemy was defeated. But there was no feast nor song that night at our dead were beyond the count of grief.”

Bilbo remembered Balin telling him they would have a feast before he left after the battle of the five armies had ended. It made him wonder what the dwarfs defined as too brutal to not celebrate their battle. A quick wave of anger washed over Bilbo. He wanted to demand answers. Why were Kili, Fili and Thorin not important enough to grief that night. How could they feast and sing when they knew their friends had just died a brutal death. How could they recover the bodies and drink good wine just mere hours later? 

Bilbo felt his eyes burn and tears threatening to fall to the ground. He tore his gaze from Balin to the gravel in front of him. 

“We had survived, and I thought to myself then there is one I could follow. There is one I could call king.” Balin's voice was low but certain. 

Bilbo also raised his head and looked over at Thoring who stood with his back turned to them. He had his hands tight together behind his back looking down into the far distance. The moonlight shone from in front of him. 

It highlighted the contrast between his dark hair and the few grey streaks he had in it. And Bilbo thought secretly just to himself that Thorin looked quite beautiful in that moment, with the moon shining on him. The King under the mountain had always looked beautiful to the hobbit. But he only admitted that to himself and would surely deny that in front of others. 

“And the pale orc? What happened to him?” Ori’s voice interrupted Bilbo's staring. 

Thoring turned back around. His face glistened with anger and a hint of sorrow. “He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died from his wounds long ago.”

Bilbo of course knew that was not the truth. Over the years he had wondered how they came to believe that he had surely died without ever seeing a body. 

All he wanted to do at that moment was to tell them that it's not true. Warn them that they are being followed and that it was Azog who was following them. But he couldn’t. They would never believe him. And why would they? They hardly knew him! 

He hated this feeling. The helpless feeling of wanting to do something and help but not knowing how to because everything he would do right now would just make the dwarfs mistrust him even more. So Bilbo stayed quiet and said nothing. 

An uncomfortable silence grew over the camp. Quite what you would expect after a story with a lot of death had been told. 

The only thing Bilbo could hear was the wind whistling between the trees and the fire cracking behind him. A pleasant smell of roasted potatoes and meat had filled the air. Smoke rose into the night. 

Bombur cleared his throat. “If anyone still  fancies a meal, dinner is ready and can be served.” The dwarfs grunted and some rose from their seats to grab some food. 

Bilbo along with Thorin, Balin and Dwalin stayed seated. 

Despite being a Hobbit Bilbo did not think he could get anything down right now.

“Master Boggins?”KIli said a bit unsure. He held two bowls filled with steaming hot food in his hands, one of them was stretched towards Bilbo, offering him the food. 

“You need to eat something after such a long day of travels regardless of what your mind might say. That's what our mother always told us.”

Bilbo forced a smile. “Thank you, Kili.” Carefully he took the bowl. Kili returned to his spot next to his brother and the two of them started to eat their meal quietly.

“How is life in the Shire, Master Boggings? Is it truly as peaceful as they say?” Bilbo was caught off guard by Kili's question. He stopped his spoon half way to his mouth and placed it back into his bowl. 

“It’s right that it’s peaceful. We rarely get into fights let alone war and nearly no Hobbit knows how to fight. But from my own experience it is also very lonely.”

Fili frowned. “The Shire didn’t feel like a place where one could get lonely.” For a moment Bilbo didn’t know what to reply. But from the corner of his eye he saw Kili kick Fili. “By no means did I mean to upset you Master Baggins, it was just a stupid assumption I made.”

“You did not upset me, boy. In a way it is true what you said about the Shire. It feels impossible to feel alone in a place like this but it sadly is. Hobbits, as calm and kind as they might seem to be to outsiders, are very prejudiced and some can be very cruel if they decide that they don’t like you.” Bilbo replied with a sad smile. 

“But you aren’t unlikable, Master Boggins.”, Kili intervened. Bilbo chuckled at that. “It is often not as easy as being likable or not, Kili. Some people form opinions about you without even knowing who you really are and they stick by them. In my case it…” Bilbo swallowed tightly, unsure if he should continue. 

“I lost very important people who meant the world to me years ago. And I let the grief swallow me whole. I was alone and no one could help me get out of it. So I tired myself and well… that didn’t end well. But when I realized how bad it had gotten, people had already made up their minds and from then on I was considered the odd one no one wanted to talk to. So my life grew very lonely.”

An uncomfortable silence laid itself over the company once again. Bilbo feared he had said too much and they figured out that something had not lined up but to his surprise he only saw compassion in the dwarfs faces around him. 

“It wasn’t so bad, I mean it is not great but I grew used to it. Its oke, I-”

“I am sorry you had to endure that, Master Baggins. Lonelyness is one of the worst pains someone can go through, especially when you are grieving.” Bilbo's breath hitched. Thorin's voice sounded genuine and he had not expected to hear kind words directed his way from the king so early on. The first time around he hated him. Not even spared him a second glance, but now? Something had changed and Bilbo could not deny that he liked it but a small part of him was also afraid. 

If that small part had already changed, what else might cross their way? 

“It is never easy to lose someone.” 

Bilbo looked right at those ice blue eyes and saw the genuine emotion and compassion in them. 

Bilbo tried not to cry as images of those eyes losing their spark right in front of him, flashed through his mind.

“It truly never is.”, Bilbo replies, his voice breaking, his eyes not leaving Thorin's face as he said it.

But something deep inside his soul. The tiniest fragment of it pieced itself back into its right place and just for one more moment Bilbo let himself believe that everything would turn out to be good.

Chapter Text

Okay this is obvi not a new chapter but more an update bc its been two months.

I am workin on it. i tried to stay within the two to four week schedule i had beofre but my mh got really bad and i got admitted into a psychward. So much so to the ao3 author curse.
But i am better now and i am home again (yippie) but now uni had started :0
arguebly i am not mentally stable enough to attent uni full time so i am here so i am here only 3 days a week but i am still too tired to work on the chapter.

To the chapter and its current status. I am abt 1k words in. Íll try to make it a good lenght so its not way so short or anything.
I am doing my best to work on it but cannot et to more than 100 words each time.

Thats all so far i hope to get this chapter dont in the next three weeks ish.

Thank u for being patient with this: Take care of urself :))

(this will be deleted once the chapter has been uploaded)

Chapter Text

snipped of a convi i worte for a scene way down the line
i wont be giving more context until that chapter with this scene is done but like its kinda obvious i think

"How do u intent to kill him?"
"What does that mean, Master Burglar? I have killed plenty i know how to swing a sword."
"I saw you wield a sword. But what are you planning to do when you stand face to face with him."
"I plan to slay him with all the rage that has build up over the years. May my sword swing as rageful as i am."
"What if thats not enough?"
"Do you not trust my abilities, Mister Baggins?"
"No, I have seen them first hand and my life has been spared because of them. I am only asking if you turely believe that your building rage will he enough to end his life."
"I do."
"And what if its not? What if you stand face to face with him and its not enough. What if for once your unlucky, wounded and weak. What if he uses that?"
"What are you implying?"
"I am saying that I am concered about your life, Thorin. I believe that if it comes down to it your rage might not last long enough to take his life and it might take another instead."
"You ought to believe that I lose my life to that org because I am blinded by rage?"
"I am not trying to talk you down. I am concerened about your wellbeing."
"There are other, more important, things to be concerned about that my well being."
"Maybe. But right now I cant do anything but worry."