Chapter Text
Having your soulmate’s name on your wrist made things a lot easier. You or your parents could easily go down to town and ask around and find them with ease. Sure there can be a mistake, due to the size of the names your parents might try and get you to date a Vincent when it turns out to be a Violet. But hey, people could at least read the name at some point in their life, or read it to them.
Bilbo wasn’t that lucky, Bilbo got fucked over. It wasn’t that his wrist was scarred and the name was hard to make out, no. It wasn’t in Westron. He didn’t even know what language it was until he was 12 and his mother brought home some journal and it had some language that wasn’t Westron. Now he at least knew it was Khuzdul, the dwarven language, but that led to a whole other problem - the dwarrow were extremely private and secretive people. They had literal laws preventing the learning or teaching of Khuzdul. So knowing it was Khuzdul didn’t help much. Especially because dwarrow didn't even usually pass through the Shire.
So for a long time, he was just Bilbo Baggins from Bag End. The only Hobbit “content” without a soulmate. Bilbo was far from content, he was quite antsy, really. He had just mostly given up for the time being.
Until his 45th birthday. He had decided enough was enough and that he needed to get out and find out who his soulmate was. Sure he enjoyed the quiet and peace of Bag End, but he would like some company to read with or help with the garden. One day out of the blue, he set up with Hamfast to take care of his garden, went down to the market for supplies, and was gone.
Bilbo wasn’t sure where he was headed, he had just picked the path with the best looking trail. He at least knew he was on the way to Bree. There he’d be able to ask for directions to the nearest dwarven town or city, or just the nicest one where he wouldn’t be punished for asking a single word translated.
The trek didn’t feel too hard, it was nice to get out of his smial and stretch his legs after several years of being content. The weather was lovely, the beginning summer heat wasn’t too hot, surprisingly enough. The cool breeze and the gorgeous scenery of wildflowers and fields were his only company on the path.
He assumed he had made a decent amount of progress by the time the sky went dark. He had cooked himself some mushrooms he had scavenged, climbed into a tree for safety, and finally fell asleep.
The moment the sun peaked over the horizon, Bilbo was back to walking on the trail, and eventually Bree was in the distance. Once it was in sight, it didn’t feel like that much time had passed before he was eventually at the gates.
There weren’t any guards outside, so Bilbo let himself in. Surely they would have at least one guard on the outside if nobody was supposed to enter, right? Turns out he was dead wrong.
Absolute chaos on the other side of that gate.
There was some sort of riot, people yelling and shoving as some guards tried to calm things down. They were failing miserably.
Although nearly getting pierced by a pitchfork, Bilbo managed to make it to the other side of the crowd. He began heading to a pub to quickly get directions when he was snapped out of his mental planning by some stranger.
“Everybody has gone mad, it seems” The tall man said. Large grey beard and long robes.
“What are they even fighting about?”
“I’m sure most of them don’t even know. I believe one man was talking about beer and some other people just joined in.”
The two stood in silence for a moment
“Oh how rude of me, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m-” Bilbo began, holding out his hand.
“I’m quite aware of who you are Bilbo Baggins. I’m surprised you don’t know who I am.” The man interrupted.
All he got in response was a shrug from Bilbo and a head shake. “Well, uh, sorry, but you aren’t exactly ringing any bells.”
“Of course I’m not ringing any bells, there aren’t any causes for alarm.” He murmured and looked Bilbo up and down with scrutiny. “To be unrecognized by Belladona Took’s son is quite the shock”
Bringing up one’s dead mother obviously didn’t bode well with the hobbit.
“Well excuse me, just because you might have known my mother doesn’t mean I know or would recogniz-” He cuts himself off this time “Gandalf?!”
“Lower your tone.”
“Gandalf…?”
“Yes…?”
Bilbo wasn’t impressed.
“Didn’t think you would still be… around.”
“Where else would I possibly be?”
“Nevermind, what are you doing here anyways?”
“I came here to rest for the night before heading to Erebor, however I will likely have to stay here to quell the riot.” He was silent for a moment. “Ah, you can go for me.”
Bilbo let out a very indignant gasp “Oh, hey! I did not agree to that!”
“Well you’re looking for a dwarven city to have those runes translated. Nobody will let you in or tell you, but if you’re there for a purpose you may earn some trust. And you might put in some good words for hobbits”
“How would you know what I’m out for? And hobbits have no interest in anything from dwarves, just stone, gems, and metals isn’t it?”
“I know hobbits, Master Baggins. You’ll never leave your arm chair or garden unless you need something.” He began. “Metals make your gardening tools do they not? Stone can make lovely art, and doesn’t your one cousin Lobellia boast about the gems she finds in her garden?”
Bilbo gave a nod before frowning. “Well that’s just Lobellia. She’s a hog-headed nut.”
The insult gained a huff of laughter from Gandalf. “Well, if you insist you can just go under my blessing and ask for the runes to be translated.”
“Very well.” He said, looking back to the mob, it seemed to have grown bigger. “How do I get to Erebor anyways?” But when he looked, Gandalf was gone.
After a moment of looking around, two figures approached him. A short old man with white hair and a large white beard, accompanied by a younger boy who was slightly taller.
“Excuse me laddie, have you happened to see a man by the name Gandalf?” The older dwarf asked. “We were supposed to meet him here”
“He had to go break up the mob, but he was saying something about sending me down to Erebor to-”
“Oh you must be Master Baggins!” The younger one said. “He told us he might be expecting company.”
“Well, I am Master Baggins but I wasn’t-”
“Ah, well we’ll gladly take down a friend of Gandalf’s. Balin, at your service.” The older dwarf said and bowed.
“Ori,” the younger one said, mimicking the bow.
Bilbo decided to not waste his breath and just follow them. It was a free ride and he was getting tired.
The three had to sneak around to one of the side entrances of Bree to avoid the now moving mob, getting out and to an area with three ponies. They easily loaded and were off.