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Thorin had spent the past five years of his life with one singular focus, and now the end of his quest was finally in sight, although much still remained to be done. He failed his people, his father, his king, and he had vowed to dedicate his life to making things right.
It was an impossible task, he was told by detractors and trusted allies alike. Impossible it might be, but his people deserved their homeland, and if he had to give his life to return it to them, he would. That was the duty of a prince, and exiled or not, he would never attempt to escape his duties. In a way, his own people were in exile as well, and would forever be, as long as they were denied their home in Erebor. The only end of his exile would be the end of theirs.
“Are you sure we can trust this wizard?” Thorin asked Balin, keeping his tone down so the others further behind wouldn’t hear them.
When he accepted his mission, his punishment – that was to be his privilege, that of releasing his home from the ancient evil –, he was meant to go alone, and he was prepared to accept this. His people deserved nothing less than a prince willing to fight and kill a dragon on his own if it was necessary, and he wouldn’t fail them. He wasn’t prepared for the support of those who willingly followed him into exile, vowing to take his quest as their own. He had a responsibility to them as well, although in truth he knew that he couldn’t guarantee their safety, and they had to know this as well.
To reclaim their mountain, to slay the dragon who had attacked their people and drove away the ones he hadn’t burned or crushed, it might cost all of their lives. He might be the one leading others in a fool’s quest that would only lead to death and bloodshed, but it was too late to do anything else, and he wouldn’t deny his people their hope.
“Our cause is just, so he’ll render aid. In what form, I cannot tell. Wizards have their own ways,” Balin said, equally quiet.
The last thing that Thorin would want now would be to stir doubt into his company when they were approaching the most dangerous portion of their journey. They had gathered information, they learned of the existence of a secret pathway long since unused, they learned what they could of the dragon Smaug from rumours and reports of men who still lived nearby, and learned that he hadn’t been seen in years, and now they were in the final preparations to embark on their assault on the mountain.
“He set up this meeting too close to one of the places where elves hide, I’m weary of his motives,” Thorin said, pulling his hood to better cover himself.
As distrustful as he might be, he couldn’t allow anything to get in the way of their return to the stone that sang to their hearts. His people would thrive under the mountain again, and he would redeem himself for his past failings.
-
Bilbo crouched on the ground, and stretched a finger to a wittering flower, hanging sadly from a bent steam. “Wouldn’t you rather feel the sun on your face?” he said, then smiled as the steam stretched and the flower regained its vigour, standing proudly even under the shadow of a large tree. “Isn't that better? Look at how pretty you are.”
He sat back, leaning against the tree, and then thought better of it and stood up. He still didn’t know what had happened to him, and Gandalf was of as much help as he had been when Bilbo was little and he used to come to show his magic tricks or whatever he called them. Even if he hadn’t said much, and hardly anything of use, he was the only person that Bilbo knew, for a certain value of knowing, and Bilbo didn’t know who else to turn to.
Not after all his people…
Despite what he had seen, and what he had overheard from the men of Bree, Bilbo refused to believe that he was truly the last. The Shire was gone, so long ago that it had been retaken by nature, and even the most distant hobbit holes that he could remember where to find were similarly abandoned, their homes destroyed and apparently looted over the years. It seemed as though even in Bree no one alive had ever seen a hobbit, and Bilbo could hardly convince them that he wasn’t a child of men.
Meeting Gandalf, someone old enough to remember the Shire as it had been, at least gave Bilbo some hope that he hadn’t lost his mind, but if Gandalf knew anything of what happened to the other hobbits, he refused to say, only giving vague answers and changing the subject, which only made Bilbo more afraid for the truth. Even scarier was thinking that Gandalf, despite being so old and travelled, knew nothing at all of them, and it would be hopeless to ever find the truth.
Bilbo touched his pocket from the outside, feeling the shape of the ring. He didn't know why he didn't ask Gandalf about it, but it surely couldn't have anything to do with his strange fate, alone so long after all this people are gone. He had to resist the urge to go looking for them even now, but Gandalf told him to wait here and not let others see him, and more importantly, not let anyone see what he could do.
He extended a hand to the tree, until an apple fell on his open palm. It was a second nature to him, so he didn't know how he was going to hide it. The forest around him felt so vast, so unlike the gardens out the Shire, and it threatened to overwhelm him, but it still sang in his heart, and it was nearly impossible not to reach out to it.
He hoped that Gandalf would come back soon, he couldn't just stand around and do nothing. If there was any chance that his people was still alive somewhere, perhaps even that they had survived in the same mysterious way that he did, then he had to find them.
-
Gandalf could feel the glares of suspicion from Thorin, even as he and his company had agreed to follow him, but there was nothing to be done about that. They didn't need to trust him, as long as they listened to him, and he believed that he could help them complete their goal, a necessary step to bringing harmony to Middle Earth, and perhaps a way to bring some peace to the dwarves.
Smaug must be defeated, and Thorin was the only one willing to lead a group to take him on. It had been a long time since Middle Earth last saw a dragonslaying, but not much longer than it had been since Middle Earth last saw a hobbit, and although one had very little to do with the other, he believed these two events were connected. Bilbo's appearance only a few days ago, after Gandalf had already set this meeting with the dwarves, was a sign of a greater fate, especially as much doubt still surrounded the hobbits’ disappearance and Bilbo's return, looking still as a youthful grown hobbit, not much older from how Gandalf had last seen him, still among his people.
“How much longer until we find this map reader?” Thorin asked, pulling at the edge of his cloak to better conceal his face.
Gandalf had long since lost his patience with this sort of pointless question, but there would be no point either in chastising him now, when they were so close to where he left Bilbo.
Bilbo Baggins, the first hobbit to be seen in Middle Earth in over a century, and not only that, but the first to display a little known skill of his people – at least to outsiders – in perhaps even longer. It would be too dangerous to allow a hobbit to remain alone, as he didn't know what caused Bilbo's people to disappear, but travelling with him would call too much attention as well. Bilbo was clearly not a child, to anyone who looked at him for more than a second, and so he couldn't simply be passed as a child of men.
Among dwarves though, he could be more easily hidden. He was slightly too short, lacked a beard, and was overall a little small, but dwarves weren't as well known as men around most parts, and so perhaps he would be thought of as a dwarf just of age or near it, as no one would look too closely at one dwarf in a group of dwarves, and even a couple in Thorin's company were rather young for such a mission.
“We need to reach an ally for your journey first. You need more than just a map, you need someone to go through the door without waking up the dragon, and for that you need a thief. I know just the person,” Gandalf said, confident that Bilbo would be safer with them, even if this is a perilous journey.
Once Bilbo was safely with the dwarves, rather than alone in the woods, Gandalf might also have the time to look for what happened to the hobbits. It was to his great shame that he didn't know, that he didn't even suspect the hand of darkness until too late. He arrived one day for a visit, only to find them gone and their houses ransacked. There was evil at work there, but of what kind he didn't know, nor what might they have wanted with the hobbits. But there were other problems that he had to attend to, and so the hobbits slipped to the back of his mind, until he found a lonely, confused hobbit who knew even less about what happened than Gandalf did.
“Tsk, I would never trust a thief. We can enter the mountains ourselves,” Thorin said, crossing his arms.
Gandalf could think of something to explain his reasoning, as if he had to explain himself to them, but thankfully he didn't have to convince Thorin.
Balin put a hand on Thorin's shoulder and said, “Now, we agreed to take the wizard's help and respect what he said. A thief might be helpful, as long as he isn't robbing us.”
It wasn't entirely a fabrication of convenience. Hobbits were notoriously hard to detect, and could move quietly and while barely being seen. Bilbo would be safer with them, but he would also be of invaluable help in their quest.
An ordinary hobbit, in nothing different of all of his kind, except perhaps for a greater sense of adventure. Now he might be not only the last hope of his people, but also the best chance for this quest to succeed, and for one more evil creature to be removed from the army of darkness.
Gandalf had to learn what it was about Bilbo that had made him wake up in this time, so long after his people disappeared, and what made him able to sleep, undetected and unaging, for so long. He had a feeling that there was more to the hobbits' disappearance than he knew, and he had to find out the answer, but there were so many problems demanding his attention.
“You would be wise to reserve your judgment until you meet your thief, Thorin Oakenshield. He might surprise you.”
-
Thorin paced around the camp, alert to every sound, although Kili was the one on watch. It had been several hours since the wizard left to pick up his thief, and their delay only made Thorin more suspicious.
They didn't need a thief when their quest was to return what was rightfully theirs, but against a dragon dwarves had little hope in a fight. He was prepared to face Smaug, but they would only have a chance if they could fight him under the mountain. If Smaug was allowed to fly away, then there was nothing that they could do, but under the mountain they could set a trap, if there was a way to do so undetected.
“Someone's coming,” Kili called out from the rock that he climbed for his watch. “It seems to be the wizard and a dwarf? A skinny dwarf at that.”
Thorin frowned, and turned to where Kili was pointing. If Gandalf intended on bringing a dwarf as their thief all along, the only reason not to tell them his name and family would be to keep them from recognising him, which he would only do with someone they wouldn't have reason to trust.
He stepped away from the camp, wanting to see them sooner, but once he saw the shapes through the trees, he realised that Kili was mistaken, but of course he would be. Kill wouldn't know what he was seeing, because they were extinct since before he was born.
Gandalf was bringing a hobbit.
If before Thorin had cause to be suspicious, now he lost any trust that he might have towards the wizard. He had never met a hobbit in person, but he knew of them, in general terms. They stayed in their holes underground and didn't meddle with the business of other people, until one day they were hunted until there was nothing left of them. He never heard of a hobbit thief, especially one that might have survived the great hunt.
“Ah, I see impatience is still a trait that runs in your family,” Gandalf said as he approached with the hobbit. “In that case, I may as well introduce you to Master Bilbo Baggins, renowned thief.”
The hobbit made a face, and Thorin was convinced that Gandalf was lying to him. Thorin pulled at his hood, although it was already covering much of his face, casting it in shadows.
“He's a hobbit. All hobbits are dead,” Thorin said, and that caught the hobbit's attention.
“You know what happened to them?” he asked, stepping closer, just as the wizard put a hand to his shoulder and held him back.
“We can all discuss this later. For now, suffice to say that at least one hobbit remains, and once you have your map, he can enter the mountain without being seen.”
The hobbit didn't look like much of a thief, but he didn't look dangerous either. Even if he were to try something, he would be one hobbit against thirteen dwarves, surely he couldn't expect to steal from them and run away, they would open the ground beneath his feet before allowing that.
Thorin didn't need to trust him, as long as they were able to keep him under watch.
“And your map reader? You brought us a hobbit for a thief, don't tell me you have another for a map reader,” Thorin said, suspicious of the wizard's motives.
“Of course not. I told you that I recognised the writing on the map, and I do, but there are few alive who can still read this. It's moon writing, and only those with a connection to the moon might reveal the secrets,” Gandalf said, for the first time giving some indication of who they might meet.
“You mean a water bender? A man, then,” Thorin said, considering the handful of water benders that they had encountered when looking for information on the dragon.
They were rare, but not so hard to find that they would need the help of a wizard. In any village of men that was by a river, they were likely to find at least one.
“Not any water bender, only a few have a bond with the moon. The water benders of Númenor, weren't they? But they're gone now,” the hobbit said, surprising Thorin.
Thorin was educated in the history of men and elves, not only of his own people, and he even knew something about the hobbits, but the connection that each people had with the elements had its own unique aspects, and rarely those were known to outsiders. That this hobbit would know a detail like this about the water benders among the men was unusual.
“Bilbo is well versed in history, another skill that might be of use,” Gandalf said. “But not only the men of Númenor could read the moon runes. Elrond Peredhel is one which has such skill, and he will help.”
“We're going to meet the elves?” the hobbit asked.
Thorin could hardly disguise his shock. Not only would he have to work with a hobbit and a wizard, now he was being asked to trust an elf as well. But if that was what was needed to save his people, then Thorin wouldn't let his misgivings towards them get in the way of what had to be done.
-
Bilbo sat by the fire alone, as all other dwarves slept under their stones, except for the one on guard. Glóin, he thought that he had caught the name in the hasty and not entirely friendly introductions, but he hadn't quite committed every name to a face yet.
He had never seen this type of stone covering, the rock moved not as fluid as the earth, and it made for sharp, rough lines. A select few among the hobbits could coax the earth into moving for them, and they were in great aid in the building of hobbit holes, but of the hobbits who could bend an aspect of nature, his way was more common. Even among them, he was said to have something of a gift. It came easy to him, asking plants to do what he asked, and his garden always reflected that.
What the dwarves did, not all of them, he assumed, but he hadn't seen who among the group could, but what they did was different from the hobbits. They hadn't moved a single plant, only the rocks, and when they moved, Bilbo had felt nothing of the song of nature, so common even when others were bending their gardens. When a hobbit bent the ground, the earth moved with the roots that held it, and took on new shape without the plants being destroyed.
“I suspected they might recognise you as a hobbit, as dwarves are longer lived than men and some among them might have seen your kind long ago, but you still must keep your identity a secret, reveal as little as possible,” Gandalf said, coming to sit next to him by the fire, taking out his pipe for a smoke.
Bilbo greatly regretted not having his when he left for a walk in the woods, so long ago. If he had known what was going to happen, he might have done many things differently. Perhaps he wouldn't even have left, so he could share the same fate as his people.
“You gave them my name, what else is there?” Bilbo said, picking at the fire with a stick.
Not that his name would mean much of anything now. There was hardly anyone alive who would remember him, and although his family was of some local significance, he wasn't so important that those farther than Bree might know about it. It was being a hobbit that was going to be a shock, if anything, and not who that hobbit was.
“A hobbit is something that dark forces might wish to investigate, a hobbit bender is something else entirely. You're the last of your kind, and in time Thorin and his company might not care that you aren't one of their own, but there can't be news of a nature bender of the hobbits still walking Middle Earth,” Gandalf said, as always revealing less than he knew.
Bilbo doubted that he could pass himself off as one of the dwarves even to outsiders, but he had to believe that Gandalf wouldn't have suggested this if he didn't think that it was the best thing to do. He wanted to find his people, not go on a journey with a group of dwarves, to be a thief for them when he didn't even know how to do that. But Gandalf asked for his trust, so Bilbo supposed that he could stay for a while, and hopefully Gandalf would return for him soon.
“I'll be careful. I just can't stand to hear people talk of how all hobbits are dead. Although I suppose that either way, everyone I knew is gone,” Bilbo said, because he still had hope of finding his people again, but unless something magical had happened to them as well, everyone he did know was already dead.
He didn't know exactly how long had passed, but it was too long for a hobbit's lifespan. As much as he tried to hold on to hope, he didn't know what he could even hope for. To not be alone, he supposed. To not be the only one.
“No one can know when you were born, this is important. Don't tell them where you're from either. Answer no questions of your past, it'll be safer for all of you.”
Bilbo sighed. All this secrecy didn't fit him at all, but he understood. If someone hunted his people on purpose, if they were… killed, then whoever did that might do the same to him. He didn't know why anyone would do that, hobbits weren't important, they didn't get involved in other people's affairs, they didn't have anything that others might want. They didn't even have powerful benders, not to the point that others might want to use them or keep them from existing. But the way that they disappeared without a trace, and how shocked Gandalf was to see him alive, Bilbo feared that something terrible was done to them.
“Promise me you'll find out what happened to them, and if there's anyone else left. If you want me to hide with the dwarves instead of looking for my people, you have to promise me,” Bilbo said, although they had this conversation before.
At first, Bilbo wouldn't even hear it. All he wanted was to find the others, but the world was vast and he was small. He had only gone adventuring outside the Shire once before, and he nearly died for it. He wouldn't have any idea of where to begin to look for himself, and he did trust Gandalf to help. But it was hard, doing something else entirely when the only thing that he wanted was to keep looking until he found out the truth.
Gandalf placed a hand on his shoulder. “I'll do everything I can to help you, and I will learn of what happened to the hobbits. But until I do, you have to stay safe.”
“I don't suppose you'll tell me now what these dwarves are doing? Why would they need a thief and a map with moon writing?” Bilbo asked, since Gandalf had been as cryptic with that as with everything else.
“Oh, I think I'll let them tell you.”
-
Thorin didn't have a watch that night, but he couldn't sleep. By midday they would reach this elf, from what the wizard had said, and if this water bender could find a way to read the map, then they would finally have a way back to the mountain.
He only walked near the camp, since he didn't want to attract any attention. He should be resting, but being close to a solution after he thought it impossible for so long wouldn't allow his mind to rest.
By the time he came back, all the others were asleep, except for Dwalin on watch. Gandalf was nowhere to be seen, but such was the way of wizards, and Thorin was sure that by first light he would be there to show them to his map reader. Stranger was the hobbit, sitting by himself by the fire.
From what Thorin had seen, he didn't have a travel bag with him, or any supplies. They were about to embark on a long and perilous journey, and Gandalf had brought them someone who shouldn't exist, and who wasn't prepared for this quest.
Thorin watched him for a moment. The hobbit seemed to be asleep, curled on himself, sitting on a piece of rock. It was a cold night and he didn't even have a travel cloak. Thorin couldn't understand what Gandalf was thinking, bringing him there. He might know more than Thorin had expected, but that didn't mean that he was ready for something like this. Thorin wouldn't be responsible for him, nor would anyone else in his company. They wouldn't put themselves at risk for someone who shouldn't be there.
Thorin grabbed his spare cloak from his pack and placed it loosely around the hobbit, then went back to his own stone tent to try to get some sleep. If the hobbit couldn't take care of himself, then Thorin wouldn't worry about it.
-
Bilbo woke up at first light, and the dwarves had already cleared their stone tents, leaving no evidence behind of their presence. He noticed that he had a cloak thrown over him like a blanket, and wondered if Gandalf had given it to him, since Bilbo didn't have anything that he might need for this journey.
He didn't have things to gather, but he took care of the fire to help, then put on the cloak as he waited for someone to say that they were leaving. He couldn't see Gandalf anywhere, but Bilbo knew him well enough to know that he disappeared from time to time. When Bilbo was little it could be years between each time that Gandalf visited the Shire, and even now he had left Bilbo alone with little indication of his plans.
The problem was how out of place Bilbo felt in this group of dwarves, and not only because they were all of the same kind. They clearly knew each other and were on friendly terms, while he was the outsider that they had every reason to suspect. And that wasn't even considering the secrets that he was keeping, and how that might get in the way of their mission.
He stood in a corner by himself until Gandalf came back, and no one tried to talk to him then, or in the hours of walk that followed. It made him anxious for what might be the rest of the journey, but then he saw an elven city for the first time, and everything else disappeared from his mind.
Rivendell looked as if it had been carved from living wood, or perhaps bent this way, although he didn't think a hobbit could do such a thing. The trees sang in a low hum, like a language that he wouldn't know the words of, but could still perceive the meaning. He wanted nothing more than to reach over to one of the smaller branches and see if he could make a flower sprout, but he remembered Gandalf's warning and kept himself in check.
He was so focused on the architecture that he paid very little mind to the complaints of the dwarves, or when Gandalf left them to talk to someone, before returning with the news that Elrond was ready to receive them. Having read much about the elves but never meeting them, Bilbo wasn't sure as to what to expect from the lord of this beautiful place, but he followed the others.
“This is moon writing, of the sort that I hadn't seen in a few centuries,” Elrond said, once pleasantries were exchanged and the request made.
“Can you read it?” Thorin said, and he still sounded mistrustful, even after what Gandalf told him about the map reader.
Elrond held the map high, bathing it in moonlight. “Only if this is the right moon,” he said, pinching his fingers in the reflection of the moon in a basin, then pulling a thin thread of water and weaving it on the map while holding it in the moonlight.
It was a type of water bending that Bilbo had never seen before, but he had read about it. How the water and the moon could be made to conceal and to reveal, how they dealt in images and illusions. It made for a map that very few people could read, and knowing very little about what he had agreed to do, Bilbo wondered what could need this sort of protection.
“And how do we know that this won't just be a trick, an illusion you're placing on the map?” Thorin said, watching the process like an eagle, unblinking eyes as Elrond's hands moved quickly.
Thorin was also suspicious of him the night before, so Bilbo would have to be careful around him. If he suspected the truth of who Bilbo was, he would likely not accept him on this mission.
“I was asked to aid your mission by Mithrandir, and I have nothing to ensure my intentions but my words. If that won't suffice, master dwarf, you're welcome to find your own way to read the map,” Elrond said, never stopping his work.
Bilbo wondered why Thorin was so suspicious of others, and what might have happened to make him so protective of this mission. He still didn't know what they were doing there at all, since the dwarves hadn't talked to him, and Gandalf wouldn't be persuaded to tell him any more.
“Why would an elf know how to read a dwarven map?” Thorin asked, and from his angle he likely could see if the inscriptions had started to appear or not.
Bilbo was curious enough to try to step closer to see, but the others were taller, and even at the tips of his toes he could only see the movements of Elrond's hands.
“I still remember a time of friendship between our people. Just as I remember when moon writing wasn't a lost art,” he said with a final flourish of his hands.
“This is it, this is the rumoured passageway,” Thorin said, taking the map in his hands.
“If you intend on keeping this information, I recommend you copy it before the moon leaves the sky,” Elrond said.
Even from this distance, Bilbo could see runes as well as a gate drawn in something like liquid silver. It was truly a remarkable type of bending, and he felt fortunate for having seen it.
“Now that we have it, we should discuss our plans. Approaching the mountain won't be easy,” Balin said.
As a few of the dwarves left with Gandalf, to make these plans that Bilbo knew nothing about, he wondered when he would find out what this important mission that he agreed to participate was. He hoped it wasn't anything too dangerous, hobbits weren't made for this much adventure, and he had already had enough of his own.
-
Thorin left the house of the elves with even more misgivings and apprehensions, but he couldn't allow any of this doubt to show. His people were counting on him, now more than ever, and he would be the leader that they needed now, he wouldn't fail them again.
Five years he had lived with the shame of his mistakes. For his entire life he would carry the lives of the dwarves who were dead because of him. Any punishment, any markings couldn't be greater than his own guilt.
He remembered it still as if it happened that day, he would remember it as such for the rest of his days, the memory burnt into him as if with hot irons.
The restlessness of his people in not having their home was his own, and he wanted to one day be the king that they deserved. To do that, he had to learn from his father.
That day he had asked to attend a meeting, only knowing that his father had summoned his advisors and not why. When he heard the reason, he was horrified.
They intended to retake the mines of Khazad-dûm, with too many of their few available warriors, because of rumours of a great power lost within. An attempt to regain their former glory, when they couldn't even retrieve their home in Erebor.
“We cannot risk our people for power,” he said, raising his voice though he was warned not to speak, the words that sealed his fate.
Never had he seen anger like that in his father's face. He couldn't recall the exact words, but their meaning was forever burnt in his mind, like their consequence in his skin.
If he believed himself the better planner of war, then he had to prove it in combat. Foolish as he was, although he should have known better, he considered the councilors to be the war planners, and would have fought any of them to keep his people from facing a mission that they couldn't hope to succeed.
His heart sank when he reached the area, and found that his opponent was the only one he couldn't fight. His father, his king.
Thorin kneeled with his head lowered, his loyalty had to be to his king, even if he believed that the attack was a mistake. His father called on him to fight three times, as he professed his loyalty. And then hit him with a single blow, bending the rock underneath him and calling forward the molten rock deep beneath their feet.
His father could have easily killed him then, if that had been his intention. Instead, he only allowed a couple drops of the molten rock to touch his face.
The pain had been excruciating, making him believe himself close to death. It was nothing compared to knowing that his father left for the siege, leaving behind orders that he was banished and would be kept from the throne until he could recover their true home in the Lonely Mountain.
He intended to go on his own, before being met with volunteers, some of his closest friends, and those who believed that giving up their home to a dragon was wrong. It was on the road that he received word that Moira was still overrun with orcs, and he didn't know still what it meant for his father. He heard rumours as well of the dwindling number of dwarven warriors, and could only think that this meant none of very few of them returned from the attempt with his father.
If only he had agreed to fight, perhaps he could have made his father see things differently. He knew in his heart that the mission would fail, and still he didn't stop it, he didn't stop his own father from going to his death.
Now, his only hope was in another impossible mission, but he didn't seek power, and he brought with him only those who knew the risks.
Well, them, and a hobbit. A creature of legend, who had kept to himself in the days since he joined the company. Thorin was sure that the hobbit was hiding something, and that should be enough to have no trust in him, but he couldn't believe that his intentions were malicious.
-
Before they even set up camp for the first night after leaving the elves, Gandalf was gone, with only another reminder to Bilbo to hide his bending and not say anything of his past. Since then, Bilbo had been alone with a group of essentially strangers, who seemed to be as mistrustful of him as he was of them.
At least Elrond had given him some basic travel supplies, so Bilbo would have a place to sleep, even if not as well sheltered as the dwarven stone tents. Still, he felt out of place, and wished that there was something he could do to help, but it was hard when he had to think of hiding so much.
“I could help you with the cooking. I used to be quite good at it back at… before, some time ago,” Bilbo said, approaching the fire.
The dwarf responsible for cooking that night, Óin, he believed, turned to him. Bilbo hoped he wouldn't ask him what he meant, he couldn't believe that he barely opened his mouth and already almost said too much.
“Keep your secrets, Master Hobbit, Thorin trusts you, and we trust him. Most dwarves here have a secret or another. And you can help me chop,” Óin said, handing Bilbo a knife.
Bilbo took it, and set upon working. “Thorin trusts me? I don't think you're right. He barely said two words to me since Gandalf introduced us.”
“Oh, that's just how he is, but you wouldn't be here if he didn't trust you. I'm not sure he knows that already, but we've been with him long enough to see how he judges character. He has good sense, even if he stopped trusting it,” he said, making a gesture on his check, and using in a tone that indicated that was all he was going to say on the matter.
Bilbo looked over at where Thorin was on watch. He couldn't imagine that Thorin trusted him, he certainly didn't seem to like him, but Bilbo had to admit that there was something to be admired in his quest. So far, Bilbo only knew that they were going to try to reclaim their home, which they had to leave decades before, and Bilbo certainly wished that he could do the same. But the Shire was still there, it wasn't lost or overtaken, it was simply empty, and that made it so it wasn't home anymore.
He wondered if, once they reached the mountain, it would still be home for the dwarves.
-
Gandalf was disturbed by what he learned in Rivendell, but he couldn't tell Bilbo anything of it yet, not until he was sure of what he suspected for some time now. Whoever destroyed the hobbits did so mostly likely searching for Bilbo, for what reason Gandalf didn't know, and Elrond couldn't illuminate beyond telling him rumours of a great evil looking for a hobbit nature bender, which Gandalf already had his own causes to fear.
It had to be Bilbo, a hobbit who somehow survived alone for over a century without aging and without being seen, and who knew nothing of the world since then. Gandalf wasn't sure how that happened yet, and to hear Bilbo tell of it he walked into the forest for a walk, had a nap, and when he woke up his people were gone. But what allowed him to do so had to be what the dark forces were searching for, some dangerous power that Bilbo shouldn’t be involved with. He was worried for Bilbo, but also for the world and what this might mean, and he still had the dwarves to worry about. The forces of darkness were more active now than they had been in a long time, and he wondered if that meant that a final battle wasn’t too distant now, that he would finally fulfill the task that he was sent to complete.
-
Thorin worried about the hobbit, and the last thing that he needed was something else to worry about. He had his people to return home, and he had the dwarves who followed him into danger to try to protect. He couldn't waste his time on a hobbit who seemed so unprepared for travel, someone who shouldn't even exist.
He was getting ready to take on his watch when he noticed that, although the hobbit now had a bedroll, and some supplies that he must have gotten with the elves, he was still exposed to the elements, something that Thorin hadn't seen before as he was trying to keep his distance. He didn't know much about hobbits and their bending, so he couldn't think of what this hobbit might do to protect himself, and there was always the possibility that he wasn't a bender at all.
Thorin stepped on the rock close to the hobbit, calling it up so it would form a tent like his own and that of the other dwarves. The hobbit startled at the motion, and poked his head outside the stone tent.
“Oh, Thorin. You've made this for me? Thank you,” he said, touching the stone like he was inspecting it.
Thorin looked away and pulled at his own cloak, surprised to having been caught. “You'll only get in the way if you make yourself sick. We won't wait for you,” he said, telling himself that this was only a practical thing.
He wasn't thinking of this hobbit, away from his kind and without a home, and how lonely that must feel. He wasn't thinking of how unprepared for this mission the hobbit was, but also Thorin and his company. They prepared as much as they could, but expelling a dragon was something that no one could ever be fully prepared for.
“Still, that's very kind of you. You have all been kind to me, and I hope I may repay that kindness by helping in your mission,” he said, crawling out of the tent to stand in front of him.
There was no place left in this world for kindness, not when dragons could appear one day and force an entire people out of their home, or at least the only survivors, not when he couldn't convince his father that protecting their people had to come first, not when seeking the power to help them meant putting them at risk.
“I still doubt you'll be of any help. We're facing what may very well be the last dragon on Middle Earth. What do hobbits know of dragons?” Thorin said, but he didn't give the hobbit time to answer before he rushed away to relieve Bombur of his watch.
-
Bilbo stood astonished, trying to make sense of what he just heard. Dragons were beings of legends, he didn't even know that there was one still alive on Middle Earth, but hobbits were also creatures of legend now, and it made sense of how bleak Thorin seemed to think their odds were.
If their mountain was taken by a dragon, it would be no easy task to reclaim it. Dragons were the original fire benders, it was said, and the strongest of them all. Thirteen dwarves, stone benders the lot of them, from what Bilbo could tell, a nature bending hobbit who couldn't reveal himself, and a wizard fire bender, who surely had to be weaker than a dragon. Bilbo didn't like their odds, but he had promised to help now, and he could see how important this was for them.
He wondered if the scar on Thorin's face, a small burn that was mostly hidden by the styling on his beard, came from facing that dragon before. Bilbo had only seen it in passing, as Thorin was often trying to conceal it, but if that was dragon fire, he was lucky to have survived.
With a mission like this, he could see why Thorin would be so apprehensive, and Bilbo couldn't blame him for not being very forthcoming when Bilbo himself had so many secrets to hide. He petted his pocket, feeling for the shape of the ring, not so much because that had to be a secret, but because it was a reminder of the time right before everything changed. It wasn't because of the ring that he lost his people, but if he hadn't been away where he found it, then he would have shared their fate, and he wondered at times if that wouldn't have been better.
He went back under the rocks that Thorin had moved for him, and although he could feel the weeds growing along that clearing, and could have called upon them to make for a softer place to sleep, he resisted the urge to use his bending.
No one could know what he was, no matter the circumstances.
-
Thorin was sitting away from the others, revising his maps and notes under the moonlight, with the cloak lowered so it wouldn't get in the way of what little light he had. They were making good time, but soon would leave the more peaceful routes, and so had to be ready for the threats that might come their way. They would have to be even more careful with the watch at night, maybe do turns in pairs, sitting apart so they would be harder to surprise.
It was through skill in battle, but also careful planning that he hadn't lost any of his dwarves in his time in exile. He understood that losses were a part of any command, but he would never treat any of their lives as disposable, or ask them to take any risk that he wouldn't himself. For all of his faults, he couldn't say his father risked only the lives of others and not his own, but Thorin still couldn't accept some of the motivations that led his father into battle.
Despite being focused on his tactics, he still heard someone approaching, but later than he should have, and he didn't have time to pull up the hood of his cloak. It was the hobbit with the nimble feet, who moved almost entirely without a sound. Stealthy as he could be, Thorin was almost starting to understand how a hobbit could have survived for this long in hiding.
“I brought you some stew, so you won't come only when it's cold,” Bilbo said, and Thorin was surprised that he noticed.
The last three or four nights he had been particularly concerned with the road ahead, and either through watches, scouting, or simply planning, he had been often late for supper. This was his mission, and he was the one who had to make sure that it would happen according to plan.
“Thank you,” Thorin said, accepting the bowl. The effort was entirely unnecessary, as he didn't mind a cold supper, but it would be disrespectful of a kindness to say so. “Do we still have fresh vegetables from the elves?”
He didn't think that they took so many supplies from them, but most of their rations were dried meats and mushrooms, as fresh vegetables spoiled too soon and took too much space.
“Oh no, I… scavenged. Hobbits are notoriously good, uh, gatherers, I found some extra supplies around. Easy if you know where to look,” Bilbo said, looking around, clearly nervous.
Once again, Thorin had the strong feeling that he was hiding something, but finding more food was the opposite of a bad thing, so he couldn't imagine what Bilbo might be hiding. It seemed strange that he would find so much when they were crossing forests and plains, not cultivated areas, but Thorin knew very little of agriculture, as it wasn't his craft.
“I may have misjudged you, knowing how to find food is one of the most important skills in survival,” Thorin said, since he had no secret that he didn't believe Bilbo to be ready for this mission.
“My mother taught me all about plants, what's dangerous, what's good for eating, what's good for medicine. I can recognise them all and where they can grow,” Bilbo said, with a longing in his voice that Thorin recognised well.
Bilbo said very little about his life and his past, which all of them respected, as they could imagine the reasons why a hobbit might need to hide when all believed them to be gone. But when he did say something, it was with the tone of someone who hadn't had a home in a long time. Thorin would know, all others in his company were allowed to renounce him and return to what wasn't truly their home, but at least to their families were. His only hope of finding a home again would be to return the true home of his people to them. Until then, he was cursed to wander Middle Earth on a quest that was said to be impossible. But if his mission was impossible, then he couldn't imagine what it would take for Bilbo to find a home, not with his people gone.
“Sit with me if you wish then, and I'll show our maps. They might give you some idea of the terrain, and what else you might find in the days to come,” Thorin said, pushing aside some of his papers to make room.
Bilbo smiled and sat next to him, and Thorin wondered when it was that he began to trust this hobbit full of secrets.
A fortnight after leaving, Gandalf returned, but he came not to the camp, but while Bilbo was searching the fields around it.
He was far enough away that he wouldn't be seen by the others, and still he dug the ground next to a tree before trying anything. He dropped a couple seeds from his pocket and covered them with his hand, encouraging them to grow.
“Come on, the soil here is still good, you can do this,” he said, feeling the movement under his fingers.
Very soon the soil wouldn't be enough for most things, and he would have to be more careful in his selection, but for now he made carrots and beets grow, to go with the apples that he convinced a tree to mature far before their time.
“I thought I told you to keep your bending hidden,” Gandalf said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, as was the way of wizards.
Bilbo dropped the roots he had just harvested, and quickly crouched down to retrieve them.
“I'm being careful, but we need our rations to stretch. I told them I'm just good at finding things,” Bilbo said, holding his loot protectively.
There wasn't much so far that he could do to be useful, but this he could do to help. He wasn't a fighter, he hardly thought that he counted as an adventurer, but he was a hobbit and a bender, and one thing that his people were always able to do was make sure that they had enough food to share.
“I found something that you should know. There is a dark power in Middle Earth, and he sent his forces to capture hobbit nature benders, and kill all others. I don't yet know what use he had for them, only that none survived in captivity,” Gandalf said, the information that he promised Bilbo.
It was what he asked for, and still he wasn't ready to receive it. Bilbo leaned against the tree, and let himself fall down. His people were truly dead then, killed for what they were.
“If they find me I'll be taken then, I can't imagine what he would want with us, we aren't powerful, not like other benders,” Bilbo said, thinking of the legends of powerful benders of old.
Durin, the stone bending king of dwarves, who rose entire mountains from plains to give his people shelter, full of caves and corridors deep within the earth to keep them safe. The water bender elf who guided rivers and waterfalls to make a safe haven for his people, that he now suspected was Elrond. Glorfindel, the mighty fire bending warrior of the elves who defeated a Balrog. Lady Galadriel, the mysterious elf whose bending wasn't well understood, but who was said to have grown in a single day a forest that no stranger could traverse. The old kings of men, children of Númenor, whose water bending was said to be able to heal even those at the brink of death. Even Gandalf, who Bilbo knew in his youth as a fire bender who did tricks to entertain children, was a powerful bender who could make fire dance and fight under his command.
There were no legends about hobbits. All they did were their little hobbit holes and their gardens, enough to give themselves shelter and food, but not to change the world.
“Not all hope is lost, my friend. I met with an old friend, the brown wizard Radagast, and he believes that he's seen hobbits not a decade ago. They were living in hiding inside a forest, using their bending to disappear in holes on the ground, leaving only to find food and moving through tunnels they constantly change. I've been to that forest and found nothing, but there are other similar places that they could be hiding, if you want to search for them. I don't believe any other nature bender still exists, but you might not be the last hobbit alive,” Gandalf said, crouching down and placing a hand on his shoulder.
Other hobbits. There might still be other hobbits. Likely no one he knew, and he didn't have any close family or even close friends that he left behind, but the prospect of meeting any hobbit was more than he would have hoped for.
He wanted to run right away, to search every place in Middle Earth until he could find them, and yet…
“You said the dwarves needed my help. They are going to face a dragon,” Bilbo said, thinking of all that he learned since traveling with the dwarves.
They needed someone able to enter the mountain without being noticed, and Bilbo could be quiet. They also needed someone whose scent the dragon wouldn't recognise, and he never heard of dragons hunting hobbits.
“It's true, their mission is an important one, and far less hopeless with your help. But the choice is yours, you'd be risking your life for a home not your own, and I can't ask this of you if there's still hope of finding other hobbits.”
Bilbo thought that there was nothing that he wanted more than to find his people, but as he thought of how kind the dwarves had been to him, he couldn't abandon them now. Thorin had every reason to suspect him, and still he trusted him, and didn't question Bilbo on all that he was hiding, and even helped him when it was clear that Bilbo wasn't used to this life on the road.
“I can't abandon them now. After Thorin is king under the mountain, then I'll go to search for them, but I promised to help, and I can't go back on my word,” Bilbo said, hoping that he wouldn't regret this.
Gandalf smiled at him kindly. “I've always thought hobbits to be far braver than you receive credit for. Very well, I still have more to do before I can rejoin this quest, so don't tell the others you saw me. And be careful with your bending, if anyone sees you talking to plants, they won't be fooled into thinking you're a dwarf.”
And as mysteriously as he appeared, Gandalf left, leaving Bilbo behind, fearing that he had made a mistake.
-
They came suddenly in the night, a surprise attack while they were sleeping, exactly as Thorin had feared. He heard the shout in alert and immediately sprung to action, bending the rocks beneath him just as he opened the ones covering him, so he could leap into the fight. The others were starting to wake up and take up their weapons, but he couldn’t keep track of them all, not with this many orcs attacking their camp.
He fought with the axe as an extension of himself, each swing accompanied by a blow of rocks flowing like waves, using his feet to call up the rocks to rise when he needed to block an attack, but there were too many of them.
Their only hope would be to put some distance between their attackers and them, and he can feel the way that only a couple dozen metres away the rockface gives way to a canyon, a deadly fall for the orcs, and even if not, at least something that they would take a couple of days to climb.
“Push them to me,” Thorin yelled, using his attacks to call attention to himself as he ran towards the cliff.
It was a risky, desperate plan, but what other hope was there? He had to protect his dwarves, that was the most important thing. As the horde of orcs closed in on him, he spared a thought to Bilbo, hoping that he had stayed under the protective rock and was waiting for the battle to be over.
He firmed his feet on the rock near the edge, and spread the rock below the orcs’ feet, eroding the rockface further, leaving only a sliver of rock to keep him from falling. The effort made him lose balance, but with his feet embedded in the rock he couldn’t fall.
Then one of the falling orcs made the rock beneath him explode.
-
All around him there was the chaos of battle, and Bilbo remembered Gandalf’s warning and didn’t use his bending to protect himself, although even if he had it would have been nearly impossible. He tried to keep to the shadows, but he couldn’t run away and leave his friends to be killed, even if he didn’t know what to do to help. He was still trying to find a solution when he saw Thorin calling the orcs’ attention towards him, and in one decisive bending, ripping the cliff in two so they would fall. Then he saw an explosion, and Thorin falling.
At that moment, he didn’t care about his safety or Gandalf’s warning. It was almost instinct that lead him to rush towards the cliff just as the others were trying to do the same, but he was closer, and he tossed himself on the ground, stretching his arm towards the edge, and wishing more than anything that he could catch Thorin.
He didn’t think of bending as much as he just did it, the roots of a nearby tree growing quickly to break through the rock and brace Thorin’s fall, keeping him almost in reach. Thorin looked shocked at the roots that caught him, and then at him, but Bilbo couldn’t worry about what he knew anymore. He stretched his hand over the edge and bent the roots upwards until he could reach Thorin.
Thorin grabbed his hand and tried to climb up, just as a couple of the others reached them. They only saw that Bilbo was still holding him, and Balin carefully bent the rock to pull Thorin up.
“Let’s get away from the edge, the rock’s unstable,” Balin warned, and Bilbo did as he was told, following them away.
Soon they were running, barely gathering their things, and Bilbo hardly had the time to think of what had just happened. He saw Thorin staring at him and looked away, afraid of what this might mean. He kept a secret from Thorin that might have put all of them in danger, as they didn't know that he might be hunted for being what he was, and now Thorin knew the truth, and Bilbo had to trust that this wouldn't be his doom.
But he didn't regret what he did. Saving Thorin was more important than keeping this secret, even if he was afraid of what might come next. He just hoped that Thorin could forgive him, because he came to care so much for him that the thought of Thorin sending him away now might just break his heart. Not even the prospect of searching for his people made him leave, and he hoped that Thorin wouldn't make him leave now.
-
They ran through most of the night, and barely slowed down during the day, wanting to put as much distance between them and those orcs as possible, all of them too tired for road songs or even the lively conversations that they would often share on their journey.
Through all that time, he hadn't had a moment to talk to Bilbo. He couldn't say anything in front of the others, not because he didn't trust them, but because it wasn't his secret to tell, and now he understood what Bilbo was hiding from the start.
It was only when they stopped that he could gesture at Bilbo to follow him, and walked away from the others. Bilbo still trusted him enough to follow him, that had to mean something.
“I'm sorry I hid what I was,” Bilbo said, as soon as they were far enough away from the others. “Gandalf told me that I had to hide that I was a nature bender, that I would be hunted, but I should have confided in you.”
The last hobbit, the last nature bender of the hobbits, Bilbo had to have been so alone, and yet even if it was a means of hiding himself, he was helping with Thorin's quest. The wizard might have pulled a trick on them, but even with his secret, Thorin never felt that Bilbo was untrustworthy. He might have been suspicious of him at the start, but Bilbo had quickly proven himself open and willing to help, and knowing that he was hiding something wasn't the same as not trusting him.
“He told you to hide it, and you used your bending where the orcs might have seen you,” Thorin said, realising just how dangerous what Bilbo had done was.
If any of the orcs saw him, and realised what they saw, then Bilbo would surely be hunted. No dwarf could bend the roots of a tree like that, and not even an orc would believe that Bilbo was one if they had seen it.
“I couldn't let you fall. I…” Bilbo said, looking away. “I couldn't let you die, you have been kind to me when I had no one, and you put your life at risk to save us.”
Thorin tugged at his cloak out of habit, but realised that for once he didn't feel the need to hide, and Bilbo had already seen his scar and not judged him for it. He had once misjudged Bilbo, believing that he wasn't ready to survive in the wild, and now he saw that Bilbo was also braver than he had first given him credit for.
Thorin pulled Bilbo to his arms in a tight hug. “You can trust me, I swear your secret is safe with me.”
He felt Bilbo tense and then relax in his arms, grabbing hold of him as well. “I'm putting all of you at risk, the dark forces are hunting a hobbit nature bender, and I don't know why, but if they know that I still exist, they'll come for me,” Bilbo said, but what he wasn't saying was louder.
That he should leave, that he shouldn't have come with them in the first place. But Thorin knew every dwarf that had decided to follow him, and they were all the bravest among their kind. They wouldn't leave Bilbo to fend for himself, not after he had become one of them over their journey.
“While it's in my power to help you, I'll do my best to keep you hidden. I can't offer to keep you away from danger, and we still have a perilous journey ahead, but you're welcome to stay with us,” Thorin said, realising when he said it how much he hoped that Bilbo would stay.
He came to care a great deal about Bilbo, without even realising when that started, and he didn't want to lose him now. Thorin stepped away, but when Bilbo took his hands Thorin let him, not wanting to lose this contact.
“There's something else you should know. I may not be the last hobbit, Gandalf said that there might be more in hiding, but I couldn't leave to look for them. I promised to help you, and I won't leave your side until the end of this quest, not unless you tell me to. And I hope you won't, I hope I can be of help more than I am a risk,” Bilbo said, and this was nearly as big a shock as learning that he was a bender.
His people might still exist, he might still have a home somewhere, and instead of looking for it, he was there, helping Thorin reclaim his. It made Thorin feel something strange in his chest, something that he couldn't name, but it was one more thing that made his regard for Bilbo grow.
“Once the mountain is reclaimed, once my people have their true home, I'll help you search for your people, if you'll have me on your quest. And until then, I'll do all I can to keep your secret,” Thorin said impulsively, although all he wanted was to end his exile so he could finally be among his people.
After Bilbo saved his life, it was the least that he could do, but it wasn't out of a debt that he offered. He wanted Bilbo to find his home, his family, and that was nearly as important as helping his people find the same. He understood the loneliness that Bilbo might feel, and he knew that no one deserved that feeling, especially not someone as kind and noble as Bilbo was. If his own people were safe in their home, then perhaps helping Bilbo wouldn't be like his exile, and he wouldn't feel so out of place.
Bilbo smiled at him, and it was fascinating how he could have lost so much and still found a way to smile like that. “Thank you,” Bilbo said, squeezing his hands, and once again Thorin thought that he had more than he wanted to stay, but this time it wasn't some big secret that he had to hide.
Maybe there would be a time for things that couldn't be said once the quest was over, once he had fulfilled his duty to his people. Maybe by then Thorin would know what it was that Bilbo made him feel, and he would have the words to tell him that. For now, they still had a long journey ahead of them.