Chapter Text
In a hole, there lived a hobbit. It wasn’t the formerly cherished Bag End, carefully tended to by hobbit’s parents, one Bungo and Belladonna Baggins. No, it was far more cluttered and chaotic smial, much to their disappointment. If they still were alive to see the state of it, that was. Bilbo Baggins sighed as he exited it through green door, old paint cracking underneath his fingertips, as if begging to be stripped and painted anew.
Old Toby smelled as pleasantly and earthy as usual when the hobbit rolled it between his fingertips before stuffing in into his pipe. Smoke clouded his vision and brain, Bilbo’s almost always tense shoulders slumping, supported by the old bench. He overlooked the slopes of the Shire, small creatures that lived there going around, doing their things.
Cows mooed, swatting pesky flies with their tails, milkmaids grinning at them and patting their large snoots. Farmers groaned at the promise of another hot afternoon, and occasionally a faunt or two would glance at Bilbo’s front yard as they ran around. Little curly heads would stop, remember their manners, greet him or wave, and, if they were brave, come closer and get a tiny parchment-wrapped butterscotch candy from ever elusive Master Baggins of Bag End.
As another little faunt passed, grinning at the candy and telling Bilbo how jealous his friends will get as it ran away to show off, Bilbo smiled and shook his head at youngling’s antics. He hated to reminisce, but it felt like the thoughts of the past were plaguing him ever since he woke up, right after his stomach stopped grumbling for the first breakfast.
He couldn’t remember the dream, but he distinctly remembered his father being in it, teaching him about one thing or another in his soft, patient baritone. Bilbo let out a ring of smoke, watched it dissipate into the blue sky. He remembered how important it was to his father, that his little boy grows up into a proper hobbit. And his mother, ever the Took despite being a mistress of Bag End, always sneered at those lessons, telling both of her ‘beloved boys’ that propriety wasn’t as important as a good, brave heart.
Bilbo frowned, gust of early morning breeze ruffling his haphazard hair. How sad his parents would be, if they knew that their son didn’t have proper manners nor brave heart. His heart was good on occasion, and only to the faunts and dear old Gamgee, his gardener. Because, unlike the eternity of the Shire, those hobbits treated him like Bilbo, the withdrawn hobbit that likes to write and tell stories, and not rich Master with the nicest smial in Hobbiton. A bachelor worth conquering, but not knowing.
Bilbo knew that it hurt his cousins to see him like this, moody and sarcastic, as bitter as bile. He was such a sweet faunt, but death of his mother in the dreadful Fell Winter, his father wasting away from heartbreak and following her within a year, took its toll on him. Bilbo swore it was the smoke making his eyes sting. He was barely twenty-two when it happened, a scared teenage hobbit, with a decade till adulthood and responsibility of managing Bag End, already landing on his shoulders.
If only Belladonna Baggins embodied less of her fateful maiden surname, had been less courageous and desperate to get them some roots to chew on as the hunger came with the snow. Maybe then, the stray warg that ventured over frozen Brandybuck river wouldn’t hunt her down. Maybe if Bilbo was less of a scared useless hobbit, he would’ve accompanied her, and-
Smoke ring was returned to his face with a force, making him sneeze. As smoke dissipated, he saw a wiry, man-height figure standing in front of him. Glinting eyes poked out of the grey wide-brimmed hat, and bushy brows rose in amusement.
“Good morning” Bilbo grunted, rubbing at his eyes
“Doesn’t sound like good morning to me” the wizard, Bilbo assumed, huffed out a breath “For when people bid me ‘good morning’, they mostly say it because it is truly a fine and good day, they wish that the day would be good, or that they want to make a good day out of that particular morning”
Bilbo rose his brow in bewilderment, taking another puff of his pipe. Telling the wizard that he didn’t understand of that utter nonsense speech would be a prime example of poor manners.
“And when you said that greeting on this indeed fine morning, it seemed to me that you simply pretended that it was good to please me” the wizard continued his chatter “And that you consider it being quite the opposite”
“I never said it was a bad morning” Bilbo stood up with a sigh “I simply don’t care about it being good, for I have a few other things to occupy my thoughts with”
“I see” bushy brows lowered “And what is the son of Belladonna Took could riddle himself with?”
“Why do you want to know?” Bilbo pulled out a humble stack of letters from the mailbox, rifling through them, pipe clutched between his teeth
“I inquire after it, because I wish you would accompany me on an adventure” Bilbo’s hand stilled
“Adventure” he sighed “Awful things, they are. Make you late for dinner”
“And make you a different person, Bilbo!” the wizard chuckled “For the spirit is formed in wanderings, when it undergoes challenges and trials”
“I’ve had my fair share of trials, so I’ll have to refuse, thank you” Bilbo frowned at the grey eyes observing him “I don’t care that you were an acquaintance of my mothers, or whoever you claim yourself to be”
“Why, I’m Gandalf the Grey! Come on, Bilbo Baggins, I recall myself being in Bag End when Belladonna had you running around the smial as a faunt. Don’t tell me you don’t remember my fireworks at Old Took’s birthday party”
“Oh, yes” he nodded “I remember you thrusting a lit sparkler into my hand that turned out to be a tiny firework. I guess wizards have poor eyesight in the evening gloom. I had singed hair and scars on my hand for weeks after that”
Bilbo saw the wizard’s faint smile drop.
“Let us forget about our…past misunderstandings, for I hope I am forgiven” Gandalf sighed “But I nonetheless insist upon you joining me and the others on this journey, Master Baggins”
“The others?” Bilbo knocked out the ashes from his pipe on the nearest fence pole
“While, yes!” the wizard nodded “The most delightful bunch of dw-people to share an adventure with”
“The adventure I am not joining, you forgot to say” Bilbo begun to ascend the stone stairs leading to his smial “For it is decided”
The wizard moved few steps, following Bilbo’s progress towards the door to lock him in place with a stern gaze. The hobbit found something unnerving in the sight of the depth and color of those eyes – like a cloud before the storm. It was as if the whole world ceased to exist behind those hunched shoulders and tall hat.
“Bilbo Baggins” Gandalf pronounced his name like a spell, or some kind of prophecy “I don’t recognize the sweet adventuring hobbit I once was delighted to know. How could the son of Belladonna and Bungo be so gloomy and unkind to past acquaintances? Surely your parents raised you bette-“
“Well, they’re dead, Gandalf!” Bilbo snapped “They’re dead and are not here to monitor how I act or speak! I am the master of Bag End now, and it is how I choose to treat those who impose on my business! Who are you to me to treat you like a friend? You are just a wandering stranger I met once, that invites me to something I have no interest in, that’s who!”
“It is decided, then” Gandalf uttered under his breath “I’ll inform the-“
Green round door was abruptly shut in wizard’s face. Bilbo was too busy locking the door hatch to hear a shuddering exhale. He didn’t even notice the faint glow of light as the rune was craved into the chipped paint, too busy pouring a glass of wine to make his hands shake less.
“If that’s that damned wizard, I’ll wring his neck, even if I’ll need a ladder for that” Bilbo grumbled in the late evening, tightening his robe as knocking on the door grew impatient “Propriety be damned-“
“Dwalin” the hulking figure bowed “At your service”
“Bilbo…Baggins” he felt faint at the sight of two sharp axes strapped to the strangers back “At yours”
It seemed the right thing to say, because a dwarf, if hobbit’s mind rightfully noted the dwarrow traits in the stranger, let himself inside and occupied his dining table without any bashfulness. As he ate, another dwarf came, albeit much more kind and pleasant but no less unabashed, and also let himself in after Bilbo opened the door. Then came another two, younger and merrier, with a dangerous twinkle of mischief in their eyes. And another bunch appeared, and another after that.
Bilbo was getting a migraine by that point. As he saw three younglings raid his pantry, he was sure, that if he didn’t have his evening pipe an hour ago, he would’ve popped a vessel. Did dwarrow value their youth much, or not? Before his hand could reach the trusty wooden spoon to whack their hands from reaching for his cheese wheels, Bilbo reached for the pipe to go outside and cloud his mind with Old Toby once again.
Wasn’t sharing food a trait of good host? He hummed, trying to regain his composure and smother the pangs of rage. The guests surely enjoyed it, judging by the sounds of chewing and laughter. Reaching for the doorknob, expecting pleasantly cool night wind, he instead was met with the familiar grey figure.
“Gandalf” the hobbit seethed
“Well, that’s not a good tone to greet your guests with, Bilbo!” the wizard let himself in, locking Bilbo’s chance at solitude as the door was shut “Care to lead me to the company?”
“No”
Bushy brow was raised, eyes narrowing. Bilbo hoped to burn the dratted wizard into a pile of grey ash with his gaze. They were interrupted by the white-haired dwarf suggesting Bilbo’s wine to newly arrived guest. Hobbit saw red at such display. To wield his things, as if they were the masters of the smial! His heart was still hammering at the thought, that his mother’s Northfarthing plates were under the threat of being smashed, as dwarrow threw them to wash mere five minutes ago.
“Master Baggins, care for a cup?” the dwarf was smiling “This one has a lovely raspberry aftertaste”
Bilbo hissed as he snatched the bottle from dwarf’s firm grasp, clutching it to his chest. Gandalf was too busy counting the dwarrow to notice his anger.
“It seems like everyone is present, except the-“
A knock was heard on the door, in front of which the two of them still stood. Bilbo gritted his teeth. One more minute of this chaos, and he will smash the bottle over the head of anyone that comes to his vicinity, raspberry aftertaste be damned.
And damned will be the dwarf that stood before him. Tall and majestic, he was looking somewhere to the side, as if to give Bilbo a moment to observe the straight slope of his nose, and how cascading waves of hair were as blue-black as the night sky behind him. Then he turned, warm candlelight illuminated his cold, pale blue eyes. Bilbo swallowed a lump in his throat.
He let the, hopefully, last guest in. Took his travel cloak, didn’t even bother to tell him to remove his shoes, for none of the dwarrow listened to his pleads anyway.
“Gandalf” the dwarf nodded “You should improve your mastery in maps. I’ve lost my way. Twice”
“Even the dumbest sheep know their way around Hobbiton” Bilbo grumbled as he hung the heavy coat on the hook with one hand, other still clutched around the wine bottle “It’s one bloody road going in a circle”
Gandalf cleared his throat as he noticed dwarf’s sharp gaze, aimed at the hobbit.
“Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce you to the leader of the Company” the dwarf eyed him up and down “Thorin Oakenshield”
“So…” tired eyes crinkled with mirth “This is the hobbit”
Bilbo frowned, not responding. The dwarf- Thorin, as he was now aware, circled him. Hobbit’s hair stood up with unease – Bilbo felt as if he was a cattle being examined. His hands clutched the neck of the bottle.
“Have you done much fighting, Master Baggins?” the voice rumbled
“Been involved, on few occasions” Bilbo frowned, noticing the rest of dwarrow observing them
“And did you win?”
“I made an impact, that’s for sure” his silver spoons were still in full set, and would remain so for the nearest future, as will the scar on his knuckles from punching Otho Sackville-Baggins square in the nose
“Any skill with weapons?” Thorin crossed his arms, bracers glinting in candlelight
“Conkers”
“What’s that?” the dwarf grumbled, thick brows frowning
“Something, that makes birds scared to fly overhead my garden for years now”
Those statements weren’t all that impressive to dwarrow, as Bilbo predicted. But everyone in Hobbiton knew not to threaten Bag End and its garden, and that was enough for him.
“He looks more like a grocer, than a burglar” Thorin smirked, glancing at dwarrow who openly laughed at the jest
“And you are as sharp as mashed potatoes” Bilbo unscrewed the bottle, taking a generous swig “Ah, yes, the raspberry aftertaste is delightful indeed, Bori”
“Dori” the dwarf huffed
“Right, well, there’s thirteen of you lot and only one poor me, so you’ll have to excuse me on that one, sweetie” Bilbo went and pulled out the warm leftovers of the dinner, for as uncouth and frank, a guest was still a guest “Dig in”
It turned out that the haughty dwarf was their king. The only thing that Thorin-king was good for, was that his people quietened as he was speaking. And speaking he did. Bilbo almost fell asleep to those long monotone speeches, like faunts did during a boring lecture…that might’ve been wine on an empty stomach’s doing. It wasn’t his fault dwarrow hardly left a bite as they finished!
But still, he caught on the gist of the story. The Lonely Mountain was to be reclaimed. Dragon was the main threat, as was painstakingly listed in the contract that Bilbo’s eyes fretted over. Lesser were the threats of falling off the cliffs, starvation, infection, illnesses, trolls, orcs, wargs, curses, hexes, elves-
“Why are elves listed as a threat?” Bilbo huffed a laugh
“They are a threat” Thorin grumbled as he wiped the plate clean with the piece of bread “To our sanity”
“You must be a sensitive bunch, then” Bilbo smirked “To be so deeply wounded by their songs and dances”
“Sensitive?!” big menacing dwarf- Dwalin, if Bilbo remembered, stood up “We are as tough as the mountain we are trying to reclaim!”
“Not if you’ll faint if the elves decide to approach” Bilbo snorted “Oh no! Their ears are too pointy and manners too haughty!”
“Master Boggins-” Kili, the youngest of the bunch, grinned “Master Boggins, you simply must join us! Maybe they’ll leave us alone if we’ll have someone equally as annoying in our company!”
“Watch your tongue, young man” Bilbo threw him a stern glance
“I’m not a man, I’m a dwarf!” Kili nudged his elder brother, making him spill the ale onto his beard “Stand up for your brother, wouldn’t you, Fee?”
“Nah” Fili was busy using his sleeve as a handkerchief “Not if the threat is so unthreatening”
“I will show you unthreatening” Bilbo seethed
“Come outside, then!” Dwalin continued “I’ll prove my words-“
“Oh, and about the contract, I’ve written there, in the side notes, what your task will entail-“ Balin tried to get closer to Bilbo
“I too think elves are fascinating, Master Baggins!” Ori smiled at the hobbit “I share your opinion-“
“Ow! Fee, come on, you don’t have to have your revenge on me!” Kili huffed, writhing
“I forgot you don’t have a beard big enough to spill my ale on!” Fili had the younger one in headlock
“Hey!” Kili whined as his hair was tousled
“Thorin, I think-“
“Silence!” the king shouted, the sound reverberating in Bilbo’s bones as he stood the closest to the dwarf “It is decided” blue eyes looked at the hobbit once again “Gandalf assures me that you are a burglar, despite you looking nothing like it. If you would be so kind to offer spare beds and floor for my kin to sleep on, I would be grateful. And about the contract…you have time till the morning to sign it”
“I’ll…I’ll think about it”
Bilbo didn’t have time to think about it. Because, as he was getting ready to sleep after he supplied his guests with blankets and quilts, a deep murmur of dwarrow picked up a melody. Over it, a deep voice sang, smooth as velvet. Thorin sang of the mountain, of the hidden treasure, and of their desperation to return home.
Hobbit’s splintering headache was put aside as he listened, slumped over the beam of wooden bedframe. Bilbo felt the ache in his chest, the painful thing he avoided processing whenever he could manage. And his heart ached even more when the song was finished, leaving behind it only the silence, broken occasionally with the soft snores of thirteen members of the company.
He will never admit that he secretly wished the song would continue to go on till dawn. Bilbo massaged his temples. His fingers were buzzing with energy, head, on the other side, heavy as lead. The hobbit stood up on shaky legs. Wanting to sleep or not, Bilbo had work to do. He tried not to think of the smug smile he would certainly receive from the wizard tomorrow.
Bilbo sighed as he took out his mother’s travel kit.
“Curse that stupid dwarf, his stupid company, and his stupid song”
When Balin woke up, it was to the contract parchment rustling gently from the opened window, morning breeze making itself welcome in the smial. The old dwarf smiled as he noticed, that the signature, so strangely rounded and sloped, had dried hours ago. He didn’t remark on the carefully wrapped letters on hobbit’s writing table as he made his way towards the kitchen, the delicious smell of eggs and bacon having already woken up the ever hungry younglings, three of them chatting with less grumpy, but more haphazard-looking Bilbo.
It seemed they adored the strange little creature. Balin’s smile grew as he looked at their giddy faces, softened by the first morning rays, that was before he was ushered to sit and enjoy the breakfast. For some strange reason, the halfling called it ‘first breakfast’ and was sad that they won’t get the second one properly on the road, but he was wise enough to not remark on it, not wanting to be left without generously provided seconds.
Slowly but surely, the whole company joined them, mellow and half-asleep much to halfling’s delight. He still had hope to leave the Shire without a headache. Thorin rose his eyebrows as Balin showed him a signed contract an hour later.
“Yesterday you told me, that we’ve lost our burglar” the old dwarf smiled, checking if his saddle was properly strapped onto pony’s back “And you seemed to have forgotten my lessons, laddie. Never make quick assumptions”
His King only rolled his eyes as he mounted his own pony. Balin chuckled. Silence meant that he was right, and Thorin was much too proud to admit defeat. His eyes still looked far too suspicious of their fourteenth member as Bilbo stuffed a bunch of envelopes into his neighbor’s mailbox, petting it a couple of times, as in goodbye. But, old dwarf mussed, the morning looked good so far. Or, most likely, the lot of them was far too sleepy to engage in shenanigans yet.
“Stupid, pompous, haughty, stuck-up son of a-“
Bilbo stopped throwing daggers at Thorin’s back the moment the dwarf in a peculiar hat pulled his pony to ride alongside him. He hoped that the action wasn’t too much of an insult to Bofur. Or, Bilbo hoped, the dwarf was named that. What was the punishment for hating the king in dwarrow custom, anyway? Maybe Bilbo could avoid it, being a hobbit and all-
“Doing great so far, Bilbo!” the dwarf smiled leisurely “Haven’t fallen off the pony yet, kudos to that”
“I still don’t know why all of you ride those creatures” he scoffed “Walking is much more pleasant”
“Well, we aren’t gifted with such sturdy feet, that’s a first” Bofur was struck by Bilbo’s reddened cheeks “Oh! Have I done ye some insult?”
“No, all is fine, Master Dwarf” Bilbo looked ahead “It’s- it is a great praise for a hobbit to hear, that’s all. Thank you”
“Oh, well, a great praise is better than no praise” the dwarf grinned “Helpful too, as I’m trying to be in ye good books”
“Why is that so?” Bilbo found himself smiling in return “You have thirteen other options, fourteen, if we count an annoying presence of a wizard”
He tried not to hear Gandalf’s annoyed huff.
“Well, you are a fascinating creature, Master Hobbit. Generous and witty too” Bofur hummed “But, I will be frank, there is the reason that exceeds those that I had listed”
“Which is?”
“That murderous gaze of yours” the dwarf shivered “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it, that’s for certain!”
“I appreciate your truth, Bofur” Bilbo grinned “You will be pardoned, unless you do something utterly ridiculous”
“Oh, thank Mahal for that!” Bofur cackled, then, leaned in, mischief sparkling in his eyes “Finally ye saw our mighty dwarrow King lead the journey. Your first impression as a third party?"
Bilbo sighed in exasperation at mere mention of that title, rolling his eyes fondly at his newly made friend. He tried to whisper as discretely as possible while maintaining balance on the pony.
"Valar just be making anyone these days, huh?"
Bofur’s hollering laughter was heard by the entire company.