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Chapter Text

It was gloomy for a Tuesday morning in late spring, but it was not gloomy enough to discourage Bilbo from sitting out on his porch. He would sit out there every day unless there was a particularly intense downpour that would soak through his clothes quickly. Otherwise he thought it a waste to skip a day of sitting outside and enjoying the scenery.

Bilbo closed his eyes and breathed in a hefty gasp of the crisp air. He wanted to savor every second of his time outside before he had to go back inside. There was something so serene about these moments, the times when he got this time to himself to relax and unwind from the stressors of everyday life.

At least, there was until he opened his eyes and saw a tall man in tattered gray clothes standing over him.

Where did he come from? Bilbo thought.

“Good morning,” Bilbo said, stammering a bit as he felt reluctance overtake him. Something about this man being here felt off and he wanted to run away from the situation, but courtesy dictated that he not do that.

“Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?” The man inquired, raising an eyebrow. “Or perhaps that you feel good this morning or that it is a morning to be good on?”

“Um, all of the above, I suppose.” Bilbo paused, trying to get a sense of where this conversation was going. The odd feeling in his gut was growing, but he couldn’t quite pin what was off about this whole situation. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

The man huffed. “Well, I’m Gandalf and Gandalf means me.” Then he paused, thinking over how to say his next words. “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Bilbo furrowed his brow. He realized this man had to be a wizard, judging by his stature and his clothes. “What do you mean by adventure? I doubt anyone west of Bree is looking for any sort of adventure.”

Gandalf looked him over before he spoke again. “Well, then, I think it will be very good for you to go on an adventure.”

Bilbo did not like the sound of this. He did not like it at all. Whatever Gandalf wanted, it wasn’t good news. He got onto his feet and started for the front door, hoping to escape the wizard’s judging glare. “No, no, we do not need any adventures around here! Good morning to you!”

“I did not come here to be good morning’d by Belladonna Took’s son.”

Upon hearing his mother’s name Bilbo stood straighter. He looked at Gandalf more closely as if trying to assess him. But he just couldn’t put together the pieces of who this wizard really was. Had they met before? They must have, judging by Gandalf’s seemingly calm demeanor. But how did he know Bilbo or his mother? There were only a few wizards in Middle-earth, so surely Bilbo would have remembered meeting at wizard before.

“What has my mother got to do with this?”

***

In the hours that followed his strange encounter with Gandalf, Bilbo struggled to focus with his work. After storming back into the house he headed straight for his office in the hopes that his work would distract him. He loved his work. He loved poring over his books and maps and would often spend more time than he needed to just working because it was so easy for him to become engrossed in whatever task he set his mind to.

But that was not the case today. He could barely focus for an hour before he got up and walked around his house with the hopes of clearing his mind before heading into the kitchen for a snack. Then he trailed back to his office, where the cycle repeated hour after hour as he struggled to keep the deepest of his thoughts entirely away for long enough to get any comprehensive work done.

This was enough to sour Bilbo’s mood, but he tried to not let it get to him too much for too long. He kept a close eye on the clock throughout the day and as soon as it struck 5 that afternoon, he let himself off the hook for working. He didn’t like giving up for the day without any successful work to show—it felt so uncharacteristic for him to feel so disconnected from his work like this—but he was too frustrated to think too much of it. Not when he found himself heading straight back towards the kitchen. Even cooking would be enough to help him get his mind off things.

Bilbo spent the evening putting together a rather elaborate dinner, consisting of several courses. It felt right for the occasion so he felt overjoyed by the time he finally sat down ready to dig in. He put the finishing touch of salt on his first course when the doorbell rang, instantly pulling him out of his docile state. He scowled and for a moment considered ignoring it because he didn’t want to pull himself out of this newfound good mood and away from his eloquent dinner. He didn’t like the idea of company arriving uninvited, but he knew it would be rude to simply ignore whoever was at the door. He grumbled as he pulled himself out of the chair.

For a split second Bilbo was relieved to open the door to find out it was not Gandalf at the door, but then he snapped back into reality and realized that didn’t explain that a complete stranger was standing at his door. Two complete strangers, for that matter.

“I am Fíli,” one of the men said. Judging by their appearance, they seemed to be dwarves. What were dwarves doing at his house at this late hour?

“And I am Kíli,” the other dwarf said.

Then both men bowed and said, “At your service,” in unison. This struck Bilbo as rather odd.

“I… I never ordered any service.” Bilbo frowned, his heart pounding. He couldn’t decide he was more uncomfortable or annoyed with what was unfolding right before his eyes. Hadn’t he dealt with enough today? Why couldn’t he have a simple night to himself?

If the two dwarves—Fíli and Kíli, Bilbo remembered—had heard Bilbo then they made no indication of it. They squeezed right past Bilbo and entered his house, which only furthered the pounding in his heart. What was going on?

They made their way into Bilbo’s kitchen, the beginning of which Bilbo had only seen glaring over his shoulder. Once he figured out where they were going, though, he spun around and raced after them. It was already enough for him that he had unexpected company that he didn’t know, but he didn’t like the idea of his unexpected, unfamiliar company to wander into the kitchen without him.

So much for Bilbo’s peaceful dinner.

But before Bilbo could catch up to them and ask them what they thought they were doing, the doorbell rang again and Bilbo felt the pit in his stomach only grow larger. Who could this be now?

Bilbo nearly hesitated going to the door, the hope of stopping in his tracks and telling off Fíli and Kíli still clinging in his mind, but he forced the thought aside as he headed back out of the kitchen and towards the door.

Bilbo thought he had finally had enough when he opened the door to see Gandalf on the other side. Why was this a surprise to him? Of course Gandalf was behind this. Leave it to Gandalf to send strangers to Bilbo’s door at this time in the evening. No one else would be so bold to do that.

Before Bilbo had the chance to fully process the moment and open his mouth to tell Gandalf off, though, Gandalf stepped in through the door and came into the house like Fíli and Kíli had.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf said as he finally acknowledged Bilbo standing dumbfounded, trying not to stir in his own confusion.

“What are these two doing here?” Bilbo asked, crinkling his brow as he gestured towards the kitchen towards the men who were more than likely raiding his kitchen. He wanted to know what was going on already.

But Gandalf’s response only caught Bilbo off guard even more. “Just two? That means we’re still waiting on one more.”

“Wait—we? You mean there’s more of them coming? Isn’t two enough already?”

Gandalf didn’t respond to Bilbo’s questions. By this point he had already turned around and made his way for the kitchen where Fíli and Kíli were. Bilbo tried to brush off his frustration, at least for this brief moment, and followed Gandalf into the kitchen. There he saw that Fíli and Kíli were helping themselves to his dinner and ruining the elaborate and careful arrangement he had set up—did they have no manners, no consideration for this man’s house?

Then someone knocked at the door again and Bilbo had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from groaning aloud. Whoever was there was knocking in a rather aggressive, rude way, too. Even though he was growing more annoyed with his predicament, he still thought it rude to show this disdain in front of his “guests.” If he could call these unwelcome strangers that. He supposed Gandalf was a guest because at least he already knew Gandalf, even if Bilbo thought he was rather unwelcome at this time of the night, too. But here he was in this present moment and he couldn’t simply tell them to bugger off, so he needed to stop dwelling on it so much.

He made his way to the door and he found himself hesitating before he lifted his hand to turn the knob. It was like he wanted to turn away from the door and just escape out the window to avoid the fact that he was here in this present moment with Gandalf throwing together who-knew-what plan without ever considering if Bilbo wanted to be involved. But of course he was not going to do that with Gandalf here. Gandalf who would surely find him again and try to find a way back into his life. He was the only person from Bilbo’s old life who knew this address and Bilbo wished it wasn’t that way, but wishing wasn’t going to change anything.

He opened the door.

On the other side of the door was a dwarf who looked similar to Fíli and Kíli—Are they family? Bilbo found himself wondering, since they all resembled one another and Bilbo didn’t know any dwarves—who was dressed in a dark cloak, with his hood covering his face. He pulled the hood down and the light from inside the house illuminated his face. A dark beard defined the lower half of his face, but Bilbo could tell underneath the dark light and the beard that this man had light eyes.

“Thorin.” Bilbo heard Gandalf speak from right behind him—how had he crept up so silently up close behind Bilbo without catching Bilbo’s attention? Leave it to a wizard to figure that sort of mystery out. Bilbo figured this had to be the dwarf’s name. But who was he, really? Who were that Fíli and Kíli raiding his kitchen?

“Gandalf,” the dwarf called Thorin said to the wizard as he slid in through the threshold of the door, not seeming to pay any mind to Bilbo standing dumbfounded, watching him enter. Bilbo found this incredibly impolite, but shouldn’t he have known by now to not expect proper manners from these dwarves the way he did from his fellow hobbits? This Thorin, though, seemed to have a particularly inflated sense of self-importance that superseded plain good manners.

Once in the house the man called Thorin took one look at Gandalf and then turned his head back to look at Bilbo. “So this is the burglar you told me about?”

Bilbo felt like he was about to choke on his own tongue. Burglar? Burglar? Gandalf was going around telling strangers that he, Bilbo Baggins, nothing short of a sensible hobbit, was a burglar?

“Close the door, Bilbo, before you let anyone else in,” Gandalf said, moving past Bilbo to close the front door for him when he saw Bilbo wasn’t going to do it himself. Bilbo blinked and forced himself to focus on the present moment. He was going to get swept away in his own thoughts of annoyance if he didn’t ground himself.

Thorin paused to look over Bilbo. “Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?”

“Huh?”

“Axe or sword, what’s your weapon of choice?"

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, heart racing once again. “I fail to see why that’s relevant…”

“I thought as much.” Thorin turned away and made his way towards the kitchen. Bilbo thought he rather lacked manners, too.

Great, just what I need, another dwarf trying to mooch off my dinner, Bilbo thought. And I haven’t even gotten to enjoy one bite of it…

“Who are they and what are they doing here?” Bilbo hissed to Gandalf in a low whisper, standing on his toes to make sure the other man could not miss his words.

“Well, come to the kitchen and we’ll tell you more.”

“Thorin!” Fíli and Kíli said to Thorin in unison and they stopped what they were doing to greet the older dwarf.

“This is our burglar,” Thorin said, gesturing to Bilbo, who still desired to be left out of the conversation, “though I daresay he looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” Fíli and Kíli laughed and Bilbo wished he wasn’t here anymore.

Thorin took a seat at the head of the table. Bilbo stood between him and Gandalf, not wanting to take a seat too. In his mind he somehow equated sitting down at the table with the dwarves to accepting everything that was unfolding before his eyes and he knew he was not okay with that.

“So what is it you actually want me to do?” Bilbo couldn’t help but blurt out. He knew this was his mind’s attempt to forget about the dinner at all. He wasn’t getting that perfect relaxed evening back, so he may as well get this evening over with as fast as he could, right?

No one responded at first, but Gandalf moved to pull something out from under his long coat. Bilbo couldn’t tell what he was doing until he saw Gandalf laying out a map across the table. Then Gandalf stuck his hand back into the inside pocket of his long coat and this time he pulled out a large key. Bilbo couldn’t help but appreciate the intricate detailing on the key, even though he had no idea why Gandalf thought this was important to show.

“Where did you get that?” Thorin hissed, slamming his fist on the table.

“Your father gave it to me,” Gandalf replied in a calm tone. “And it would serve you well to not let that temper loose right now.”

That seemed to appease Thorin. He slumped back into his seat and tried to loosen his expression towards a greater sense of calm. It seemed to be enough for Gandalf, for he moved right on with the conversation.

“Bilbo, look here,” Gandalf said, pointing to a certain spot on the map. Bilbo leaned onto the table as he stretched to see the details of the red ink on the map.

“The Lonely Mountain,” Bilbo read out.

“This is where we need to go,” Gandalf said, and then he moved the index finger on his other hand to point to something on the other side of the map. “And this is where we are now.” Bilbo couldn’t tell how far away this mountain was from Bag End, but he couldn’t imagine it was at all nearby if Gandalf felt it important to point out the distance in the first place.

“And why don’t we just go there already and take back the mountain?” Thorin snarled. “It is our home and it’s about time it is in the hands of the dwarves again.”

Bilbo’s mind began buzzing as he tried to put the pieces of the situation together with what little information he had on the table. So this Erebor was where Thorin came from? What did he mean to “take it back?”

But, almost as if Gandalf could read Bilbo’s mind, he motioned to explain. “Why don’t you tell Bilbo about why we’re here, then?” He asked Thorin.

Thorin furrowed his brow, feeling annoyed with having to explain. Or relive.

Perhaps it was to relive something, Bilbo thought. It sounded like this was personal to Thorin.

“Erebor is my family’s estate,” Thorin said, starting off with his voice so soft and gentle that it sounded like little more than a natural humming of the house. “It’s a lovely mansion, until it was taken from us. Smaug. What he really wanted was our family heirloom, and he had to go and take the whole damn property just so he could have it.” There was a heavy pause in the room, and Bilbo realized this was all he was going to find out from Thorin. Bilbo knew there was more that Thorin wasn’t willing to share, but he didn’t even dare push for more beyond what Thorin was willing to tell.

Gandalf must have gotten the same impression from Thorin, for only another mere moment passed before he interjected, seeming to pick up right where he had left off without hesitation.

“That’s the gist of it,” Gandalf observed, his eyes still low to focus on the details of the map.

“But where do I come into this?” Bilbo found himself asking. He hadn’t even consciously thought about that part yet, but he knew it was coming. Why else had these men come into his house calling him a burglar? What did any of this have to do with him?

This was the moment Gandalf lifted his eyes from the map and his gaze now seared into Bilbo’s face. Bilbo did not flinch, knowing all too well the intimidating air Gandalf could put on when he felt like it.

“Well, it’s simple, really,” Fíli put in. This was the first time Fíli—or Kíli, who Bilbo assumed was likely to jump into the conversation now, for that matter—had spoken since Gandalf pulled out the map. “We need you to be our burglar of sorts. Gandalf has told our uncle Thorin that you can help us take back what is ours..”

This disrupted Bilbo’s concentration. “Wait, wait… You expect me to go into this estate with this supposedly dangerous man?” He raised his brow and looked to Gandalf, who still maintained a stone-cold, blank expression. Gandalf would not lend himself to emotions when he didn’t want to. “Do you expect me to be your burglar so I can go in there and get your family heirloom back or something? Is that what this is all about?” As he spoke Bilbo kept his stare laser-focused on Gandalf. He didn’t care about Fíli or Kíli or Thorin. None of them mattered in this moment. He didn’t even know them. It was Gandalf he knew. Gandalf from his old life, Gandalf who managed to sneak into his new life, Gandalf who always seemed to bring at least some ounce of trouble with him. This was not happening. This could not be happening.

Not if Bilbo had a say about it.

“No, no, no!” Bilbo yelled. “I’m not doing this. Enough of this nonsense!” All the while, he kept his eyes on Gandalf, who still kept his eyes on him and kept his face appearing thoughtless. Bilbo didn’t care what the dwarves thought, he didn’t care when they would leave after this. He didn’t care about any of it.

He stormed out of the room, trying to keep his stomps as quiet as possible. He was infuriated by it all, but that did not mean he had to make any more a big deal out of it than he already had. He didn’t want to make a scene and he especially didn’t want any of his neighbors to hear any glimpse of his annoyance. He was going to stay quiet because that would be just the way he liked it.

***

Bilbo wasn’t sure for how long he stayed sequestered in his drawing room, hoping that the problem outside of this room would take care of itself. He settled himself in and lit a fire in the fireplace against the wall, hoping to pass the time with some relative peace.

He hadn’t heard the front door open again, so he knew Gandalf, Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli were all still in the house. He just didn’t know what came next.

Eventually, he heard a light rapping at the door. Before he could say anything—like telling whoever was on the other end outside to leave him alone—Gandalf had opened the door and slipped inside.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf said in a subdued tone and Bilbo turned to face him. He sounded as if he were completely unaware of everything that had transpired this evening, but he knew. He knew so much. That was why he was here in the first place.

“I don’t want to do it,” Bilbo insisted, crossing his arms. “I like my life here just the way it is. I don’t need some dwarves breaking down my door demanding to take me halfway across the world for the sake of helping them out. What good will that do me?”

“That’s not the youthful, adventurous Bilbo I once knew.”

“Well, that isn’t who I am now. I’m a Baggins of Bag End.” His voice cracked as if reminding himself and Gandalf of who he really was was a painful challenge. It shouldn’t have been this hard to stand his ground.

“That is true, but you are also a Took.”

Bilbo glared at Gandalf, not wanting to remember his mother in this moment.

Gandalf picked up the hint. “Like it or not, Bilbo, you’re still a Took. You still have that adventurous streak in you. In fact, you come from a long line of adventurous hobbits and you know it. Just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t change anything about you deep down.

“I won’t try to push you tonight. But think about what I say. We’re going to be using your dining room for the night, but I promise we will be out by morning.”

Bilbo didn’t say anything to this. He stayed sitting in his chair, looking up at Gandalf. What could he say to that?

“Good night, Bilbo,” Gandalf said without giving a chance for Bilbo to interject. He paused, as though he were waiting for Bilbo to pipe in. “I won’t bother you again tonight, but I implore you to think twice about everything that’s happened.” Then he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. And then Bilbo was alone again.

***

Bilbo must have fallen asleep in the chair next to the fire in the drawing room because he woke up to the sun beginning to slip in from the windowsill at the opposite end of the room. It had been dark when he sulked in the previous night.

He woke up feeling a bit groggy, his vision blurred for a moment as he adjusted to the daytime from his deep state of sleep. After blinking a few times, Bilbo stretched his arms upward and rose from the chair. He had tried to remember what exactly happened last night. There were those two dwarves, Fíli and Kíli, and then Gandalf came, and then that other dwarf came. Thorin. That was his name.

Bilbo still felt a little delirious, the remnants of his stress from the previous night still lingering as he tried to shake it all off and stand up. He went for the doorway and turned the doorknob so he could go into the kitchen. The door swung out of place in a much more intense motion than Bilbo intended. It was so early that he didn’t feel quite in control of his movements yet. But he was confident that would get better with every step he took toward the kitchen. It was a usual part of his morning routine.

It wasn’t a long walk back to the dining room where the events of the previous night had transpired. But just from looking at it at a brief glance, Bilbo would not have even known what had happened the night before. For all he knew it could have been a dream considering how clean the kitchen and dining table were. At least Gandalf had held the dwarves accountable and made sure to clean up the mess.

That was when Bilbo remembered that he hadn’t eaten the night before, not with Fíli and Kíli helping themselves to his dinner. His stomach rumbled. It was quite improper for a hobbit to go this long without any food, but he didn’t feel quite up to preparing breakfast yet. He would get to that sooner or later, though.

Next Bilbo walked over to the entryway, where there was a small living room. If it could even be called that. It was just an armchair and a fireplace in the space between the front door and the kitchen. That was really all he had room for there.

But something was off. Bilbo could sense it like a sixth sense in the back of his mind. He blinked a couple times to adjust to the daylight peering in through the window behind him, and then he saw it. There was a small, folded-up piece of paper resting on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. That had not been there the night before. Bilbo made his way to open it, and that was when he realized it was a message left behind for him on top of a folded-up contract.

Bilbo, If you change your mind about joining this quest, meet me at the Green Dragon by 10 o’clock in the morning.

Gandalf.

The first thing Bilbo did was pull the contract out from under the note. He unfolded it to discover it was a long and elaborate thing, something he certainly wouldn’t have the time to read right now. There was simply too much to read all right now in this groggy state. He turned his head to look at the clock hanging above the dining room table at the other end of the space. It was already past 9. He couldn’t make out the exact position of the minutes hand, but he could tell it was past the thirty at the bottom of the clock. That meant he wouldn’t have much time to decide.

But he already knew what the answer to this predicament was. There was no way he was going to join this buffoonery.

Bilbo set the letter back down on the mantelpiece and crossed over to the kitchen. He opened the fridge as he mulled over what to eat for breakfast. But food was far from the front of his mind. Something had started gnawing away at him. A feeling that he would regret his decision if he just stayed put in this house and forgot all about Gandalf and the fact that he brought that Fíli and Kíli and Thorin into his house.

Gandalf had been right. There still was that bit of Took in him, whether he liked to admit it or not. He was a proud Baggins, but even he couldn’t change that about him.

Out of nowhere it seemed that the answer had come to him. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, but it was the clearest thing in his mind through and through.

He was going to go.

Without another thought, Bilbo slammed the door to the refrigerator shut and looked back at the clock above the table. The minutes hand was now approaching the forty-five and that meant he was running out of time. The Green Dragon was easily a ten-minute walk away if he hurried. And hurry he would have to.

He grabbed the contract off the mantelpiece where he had left it and grabbed a pen that was sitting out on the table. He found the spot again where he was supposed to sign and scribbled down his name. Then he made his way towards the door as he tried to push all thoughts out of his mind now. It felt like it was too late to go back as he reached for his coat and threw it on, not caring that he was still wearing the clothes from the day before.

Chapter Text

Bilbo rushed down his street, forcing himself to continue avoiding the thoughts about what he was inevitably getting himself into with this spontaneous decision. It seemed as if he had chosen to forget bits and pieces about the conversation he had had with Gandalf and the dwarves the night before about what this quest had actually entailed, too. He told himself this wouldn’t be so bad, repeating it enough times that it seemed like he was trying to convince himself of the statement’s validity. Surely he would be alright. Surely this wouldn’t be so bad.

He looked over the contract as he walked. He gleamed from it something about earning one-fourteenth of the treasure of Erebor if the quest were to succeed—Seems reasonable enough, I suppose, he thought—and at the bottom he saw Gandalf’s signature as a witness, with Thorin’s signature right above it. His signature sat in the spot below the both of them. The signature that committed him to this adventure, whether he liked it or not. It was too late to go back on his word now, though.

As he strained to recall what time it was, Bilbo had realized he had forgotten his pocket watch on his desk. What else had he forgotten in his haste to get out of the house as quickly as he could? He supposed that it would only be a matter of time before he found out what else he was so dependent on. He could imagine Gandalf telling him that he would just have to suck it up and deal with it because he would have to learn to live with a lot less. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t have a nice warm bed to crawl into every night for quite some time.

Then he reminded himself to get out of his head and keep up with his pace. He didn’t know what time it was so now time was even more of the essence. The Green Dragon really wasn’t that far away, but he figured that he should at least try to be one time. If he didn’t make it in time, then that would be a matter to face in that moment, but he knew he shouldn’t try to sabotage himself now that he forced himself this far into the hole.

By the time he had managed to get himself to stop stewing with his own thoughts so much he had already made it to the inn. Either the walk didn’t take as long as he had anticipated or he had simply spent too much time in his own head. Still without his pocket watch he didn’t know what time it was, but that didn’t feel like it mattered anymore.

He swung the door out and walked into the inn, taking slow steps as he got a good look around. He knew about this place, but he didn’t come here much. He preferred to keep to himself and this seemed like the optimal place to only draw more attention to himself. It was a dimly lit building from the inside, with very few windows so there was a lack of natural light compensating.

It didn’t take long for Bilbo to spot Gandalf. Even sitting down the tall man stood out. Surrounding him at the table were Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli, all of whom were much shorter than Gandalf. Even though even they were taller than Bilbo—Bilbo who came from a family of very short-statured people—they were still not that tall in the most relative terms. Bilbo had been aware of these details when he first met them the night before, but the differences were more pronounced in broader daylight than under the faint glimmer of Bag End’s lighting.

Gandalf had spotted Bilbo across the room immediately. “Bilbo!” Gandalf shouted.

Bilbo made his way to the table and saw that the only open seat was next to Thorin. Bilbo felt a little uncomfortable sitting down, what with how he had snapped at these strangers only the night before. But he had already come all this way so there was no way for him to turn back now. With a sense of reluctance tugging at his thoughts, Bilbo pulled the seat out from under the table and sat down. He tried not to look at Thorin too much, so he didn’t know if Thorin was staring at him.

“You came,” Gandalf said, looking right at Bilbo as if there was no one else at the table.

“Yeah,” Bilbo stammered, surprised to find he was more out of breath than he would have thought he was. He hadn’t been gasping for breath. “And I signed it.” He pulled the contract out from his pocket and set it down on the table.

“We’re happy to have you,” Kíli said, his chipper voice booming.

“So what are we going to do to start?” Bilbo found himself saying, albeit in a quiet—and almost hesitant, though he tried to keep that feeling to himself—voice. That softness was more than just his being out of breath from running all the way here, but no one seemed to notice such a slight difference.

“Well, we need to return to Ered Luin to rejoin our friends and kin,” Fíli said. “Since Smaug took over the Durin estate our family has settled in Ered Luin in the mountains to the west along with all the other dwarves that are closely connected to our family.”

“Our friends and kin who have worked the mines of the Erebor estate for generations reside there, so they have been generous enough to take us in,” Thorin said. “It is not so much an estate as it is a group of homes all clustered together, but it is still quite nice enough and situated in the mountains.”

Ered Luin, Bilbo thought. The name sounded familiar. He must have read it on a map somewhere in his drawing room. He had so many maps that he couldn’t keep track of all the places in Middle-earth. It was to the west, they said, so it had to be close, for the water was not that far off to the west beyond the borders of the Shire. Most of the maps Bilbo kept and referred to most often centered around the Shire specifically and not much farther beyond that.

“How far away is it?” Bilbo asked. Off the top of his head he couldn’t remember where it was. There was only so much land out to the west of the Shire before they hit water, so it couldn’t be too far.

“It is no more than a few hours’ drive,” Thorin said. This was the first time Bilbo turned to look at the man next to him. Thorin’s expression was dry and motionless. It didn’t lend much sense of emotion to his words. From the impression he had gotten the night before, he assumed that Thorin was a brooding man—one clearly full of resentment, too, from the way he spoke about Smaug—but that only told Bilbo so much.

“Very well, then, we ought to get going now. Ered Luin is only a few hours away but we ought to make sure we’re back before sundown.”

“Thorin has a van that’s big enough for all of us,” Fíli said, driving Bilbo back into focusing on the present moment. He had gotten so distracted first about Ered Luin, and then about the driving. It was all the little things piling up and cluttering his mind, drawing him away from what should have been the main focus in the moment. It was enough that he couldn’t already keep the thoughts from last night at bay, so this was just slowly becoming too overwhelming for him.

But he reminded himself that he came here and he would go through with this quest, whatever it entailed, even though he suspected he wasn’t going to like it. Why did he let Gandalf plant that seed of temptation in his mind?

“We need not waste more time just sitting around,” Gandalf interjected, rising from his seat. “You already have your burglar, so now let’s go.” Gandalf didn’t wait for a response. He turned away from the others and began walking away from the table.

Fíli and Kíli leapt out of their seats and followed. Thorin took a second longer but he too got up and followed Gandalf.

Bilbo heaved a small sigh as he stood from his seat. Unlike the dwarves, he was mindful to push his seat back into the table. It was small acts of decency like that that made the workers’ lives a little easier. Though the inn wasn’t that busy at that moment, the hobbits working here surely had more important things to do than push in chairs left astray.

For some reason they were all walking away from the front door, towards the back of the inn. Bilbo assumed that there had to be some sort of back door in this place. He hadn’t gone enough times to know the layout of the building very well at all.

Nobody turned around to make sure Bilbo was still following. In the back of his mind he thought about the fact that he could turn away and leave if he wanted to, that there was still a little bit of time to make a snap decision and change his mind about going on this quest. The others wouldn’t even know until it was too late. But he knew he wasn’t going to do that. There was a sense of determination tugging him forward. Especially after his conversation with Gandalf the previous day; still fresh in his mind was Gandalf’s mentioning of his mother the previous day. In spite of his best efforts to plunge the thoughts out of the forefront of his mind, he couldn’t help but think about how she would feel if she could see her only son in this situation.

Bilbo followed the dwarves and the wizard across the vicinity and followed them as they dipped into a tucked-away corridor at the other end of the clearing.

The corridor was dark and Bilbo’s mind wandered, thinking about if he was even supposed to be here. He bit his tongue, but he felt a bit uneasy about being here.

Luckily for him the corridor was short enough. Finally the men made it to the end of the corridor where Gandalf, at the front of the line, opened the door and stood aside to let the dwarves and the hobbit walk through. First Fíli, then Kíli, then Thorin. And then Bilbo. But Bilbo hesitated. He looked up to Gandalf. Gandalf didn’t say a word, but he nodded at Bilbo.

And then Bilbo walked through the door. He didn’t know when Gandalf followed until he heard the door slam shut behind him.

The door had led to an empty lot behind the building. From this angle the Green Dragon looked a lot less lively and a lot less welcoming. But that didn’t matter because all that was here was an alley, far away from the main streets of the Shire. It looked like it was only wide enough to fit traffic going one way. Someone had backed up a gray van down the alley, with the hood of the car facing outwards toward the street.

This must be their transportation, then, Bilbo thought.

“Get in, then,” Gandalf said behind Bilbo. He looked at Thorin hopping into the driver’s seat of the van, Fíli beside him, and Kíli jumping into one of the open seats in the back.

“Aren’t you coming, too?” Bilbo asked, confused why Gandalf was still standing a few feet away from the van.

“Me? Oh, no. I have my own methods of transportation that aren’t as, well, cramped, I should say. Plus I have my own affairs I need to attend to today. I will meet you in the mountains later.”

Bilbo was a little unnerved at the idea of being alone with these dwarves. Gandalf felt the tiniest bit more familiar than them so Bilbo found something the least bit comforting about having him around in the midst of all this insanity.

But once again Bilbo had no choice but to go with the situation with the knowledge that all he had control over was reminding himself of just how little control he had in this situation. He didn’t like this, but he was the one who got himself into this situation so there was no getting out of it now.

Gandalf didn’t say a word. He just shook his head and Bilbo knew he had his answer. The wizard was so elusive like that. He turned away from Gandalf and walked the few feet towards the van. Pulling open the door, he reminded himself that he had already come this far, so he may as well keep going, thinking again of his mother, but not for long. Never for too long.

Bilbo jumped into the van without any further thought. He pulled the seatbelt loose from its spot and buckled himself in, not saying a word to any of the others.

Thorin turned his head around to make sure Bilbo was settled in. “So we’re ready to go, then?” He said to no one in particular. Without waiting for a response, he turned his head back towards the front and slid a key into the ignition. The engine revved loudly enough that it startled Bilbo.

“Is this car, er, safe to drive?” Bilbo asked. He couldn’t help but feel worried about being stuck in this car for a few hours, not knowing if it was going to give out at any moment.

“Of course it’s fine!” Kíli said, leaning over to give Bilbo a joking punch on the shoulder. Bilbo tried to smile back at Kíli, even though concern still lingered in the back of his mind. He tried to at least loosen the tension in his shoulders. Staying hunched and stressed out for however long this drive to Ered Luin was would do him no good.

Here goes nothing, Bilbo thought, as Thorin moved the car into the drive shift and pulled out of the alley and back onto the main roads.

Chapter Text

The drive through the Shire had not been so bad for Bilbo. In fact, he found it quite bearable. He underestimated Thorin’s driving abilities at first, preferring to mentally prepare himself for the worst. But Thorin’s driving turned out to be a lot better than Bilbo expected. He was cautious enough. Bilbo felt almost as comfortable driving with Thorin behind the wheel as he would on any old public transportation in the Shire. Almost. There was still a large enough seed of doubt in his mind that this could all derail at any moment.

But then Bilbo’s comfort seemed to vanish when they got to the “Now leaving the Shire” sign at the border between the Shire and the outside world. There the roads quickly deteriorated and the ride got a lot bumpier. It was quite uncomfortable for Bilbo, who was all too accustomed to the safe, paved roads in the Shire. Those roads were always well-kept, but Bilbo doubted these roads on the outskirts had ever been maintained since they were first constructed.

In spite of the changing conditions, Thorin remained as cautious as ever, if not more so now. The shambly roads were no fault of his own, but he adapted to the change seamlessly. After several minutes of bumping up and down to the uneven pavement, they started to approach the mountains.

“You’ll want to hold on tight, Bilbo,” Fíli said. “This is when the drive starts to get a bit rough.”

Now the drive would get a bit rough? Bilbo worried about how bad it would be if this part of the drive was bad enough to warrant a warning. The roads outside the Shire were bad enough as it was.

“But once we get to the top of the mountain that’s the end of it,” Fíli added.

Kíli nodded in agreement. “We have a relatively secluded community built in this space high up in between the mountains. It’s perfect. You’ll see.”

“Well it’s a relief that there isn’t much left to the drive then,” Bilbo said, cracking a smile, trying to go along with the flow of the conversation. Fíli and Kíli seemed friendly enough and he may as well try to reciprocate that feeling if he was going to have to be stuck around them for a while.

“Yes and no.” Fíli laughed. “It’s still easily another hour and a half to get to the top of the mountain. It may not look like a super high mountain—and it certainly isn’t the tallest in Middle-earth—but the roads just wind around a lot of the mountain over and over again. It takes forever to go up or down.”

That made Bilbo’s heart sink, and he couldn’t stop his smile from starting to fade at clear discouragement at the sentiment. That was the kind of response he feared hearing. The unpaved roads outside of the Shire’s borders were bad enough, but this sounded even worse.

At first the uphill climb along the slope of the mountain wasn’t so bad. Bilbo didn’t take this as an opportunity to let his guard down, though. He could only imagine it would get worse, remembering the warning.

And get worse it did. The incline was never too steep, but that paled in comparison to the sharp turns that Thorin had to make. Those made everything feel all the more intense and in the worst way possible. Bilbo kept his eyes focused outside the window, even though watching all the curves coming up on the road did not ease his nerves. This was only more stressful for him because he did not consider himself to be one that got carsick easily. He could handle trains, which sped down the rails at speeds that would put Thorin’s van to shame, with no problem at all, and he hardly bat an eye at the buses that tackled the major streets in the Shire.

Only the sickness plaguing Bilbo seemed to get worse the longer this part of the drive stretched on. How long had Fíli said it would take? He couldn’t remember the exact number off the top of his head—not with all this clutter and stress piling up to his eyes—but it certainly felt like it was going to take too long for Bilbo’s liking.

He tried to swallow away his own discomfort and try to just look out the window and distract himself from everything reeling in his mind. At least the scenery outside the window was nice, once Bilbo could look beyond the fact that it was spinning around and around to the rhythm of Thorin’s van.

***

Bilbo felt like he had finally let go of the breath he had been holding when he looked out the window of the van and saw that they had reached a flat plateau at the top of the mountain. He heaved a sigh of relief. As soon as Thorin engaged the parking brake in the van, Bilbo rushed to unbuckle his seatbelt and flung the door on his side open, rushing out to gasp a deep inhale of the fresh air outside. Since they were at the top of a mountain, the air was a lot colder up there than it was down in the Shire, on lower ground, but after the journey to get up there, Bilbo didn’t care if the air was cold enough to burn his lungs. It was better than the recirculated, stale air in the car that felt like it was only getting warmer as more time passed.

Looking around, Bilbo saw there was a large, relatively flat rock by the parked van, wide enough for him to be able to sit down. He practically flung himself at the rock, relieved to be able to stretch his legs out in any direction he wanted and breathe in this relieving air. At least that was all over.

Back at the car, Bilbo could see Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli all sliding out of their respective seats. Fíli and Kíli both ran to Bilbo once they were out of the van, while Thorin stood by the van for a moment longer. Bilbo swore he could almost see a smile streak across Thorin’s face, even from a distance. Or maybe he had imagined it, since he was sitting so far away.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you that the drive was rough,” Fíli said when he got to Bilbo, still smiling his playful smile as if nothing had happened. He took a seat next to Bilbo on the rock, which was wide enough for two people. Kíli, meanwhile, looked happy to stand. These dwarves seemed to embody the merry nature of hobbits, far from the temperament of dwarves as Bilbo had come to understand from observing Thorin. Everything he heard about dwarves in tales of his youth did not paint dwarves to be like this, but more like Thorin with his headstrong attitude and harshness to those he did not trust.

“I hope you’re ready for the drive back down the mountain,” Kíli said. “It’s more of that, and going downhill isn’t much better.”

Fíli laughed beside Bilbo, but Bilbo did not laugh. His heart sank, fearing that this wouldn’t even be yet the worst of his situation.

Across the clearing from where they had parked the car was a cluster of houses, none particularly small against each other, but all of them tiny in comparison to the mountainous landscape behind them. Bilbo assumed that they looked much larger up close, as opposed to at this great distance from where they had parked.

Bilbo stayed a few feet behind Fíli and Kíli as they all walked back towards the van where Thorin waited. He looked more impatient than Bilbo had seen when he first got out of the car. Bilbo guessed that he was in a hurry to move on and not sit idly here in Ered Luin, farther away from their final destination than they were in the Shire. He vaguely remembered the map they all looked at last night, showing Erebor far to the east.

It was in this moment walking across this clearing atop the mountain that Bilbo felt a wave of exhaustion hit him. He remembered that there were others that he was going to meet here. This was more than just following this man Thorin to wherever he wanted, all at Gandalf’s behest.

Now it’s really too late to turn around and run back to Bag End, Bilbo thought, keeping his head low as he watched his feet take small, cautious steps, one foot in front of the other. The ground in front of him was level, so it wasn’t like he was trying to keep his feet steady lest he fall off one edge of the mountain; rather, he felt skepticism weighing him down and balanced the desire to fall into the feeling head-on and the urging to avoid the feeling entirely.

Bilbo lifted his head back up after several steps. It was mostly cloudy overhead. Thorin stopped in front of one of the houses and Fíli and Kíli ran to his side. They stopped at one house that stood in front of the other houses. Bilbo was still a few paces behind and resolved to maintain his pace. He simply didn’t want to rush himself to this end.

But it wasn’t much of a longer walk left. He made it to the others within a minute. As he had expected, the houses looked much more enormous up close, probably bigger than the small house Bilbo was used to in Bag End.

Thorin glanced over his shoulder to make sure Bilbo was behind him before digging into his pocket to pull out a key. Right away Bilbo noticed that it was not the same key that Gandalf had presented at the table the night before.

Thorin slipped the key into the keyhole and turned it to unlock the door. Then he put it back into his pocket and he swung it open so they could all go in first. Then Fíli and Kíli followed. Then Bilbo followed with no small amount of apprehension hinging in his mind.

The house opened into a wide front room. The house looked much bigger from the inside than it did from the outside, reminding Bilbo more and more of the Bag End that he had left behind. But the interior design lent no touch of a hobbitish eye to it. The aesthetic matched more of what Bilbo expected from a dwarvish dwelling, dark but not dank and rather warm and homey, actually.

There was no one in the front room, but Bilbo could see around the corner of the room that it led into a dining room. The end of a large table peered out from this side and Bilbo assumed there must have been several dwarves in that room, judging by the footsteps that started to echo into the front room.

A dwarf woman was entering this room and Fíli and Kíli were running towards her. She welcomed them into a huge embrace. Their mother? Bilbo guessed. It was the most plausible explanation, since she looked closer to Thorin’s age than the boys’ age.

“Bilbo!”

Bilbo couldn’t tell who was calling his name, but he followed the sound of his name nonetheless. It was better to just go with the flow rather than draw too much attention to himself around these strangers. He didn’t want to think too hard about what a bunch of dwarves would think of him, but he had a feeling that it would be best to stay on their good side.

He followed the dwarves into the dining room, which turned out to be much more spacious than Bilbo would have guessed. It was at least double the size of the front room. Several of the dwarves in the room were standing—presumably following the lady dwarf’s lead into greeting the returning dwarves—but a few sat at the table. One of those sitting was a particularly fat dwarf with a long and thoroughly braided red beard.

“This is our mother,” Kíli said, now sitting down at the table next to his mother, with Fíli on the other side of her. She was a stout, collected woman. She looked a lot like Thorin, with her dark hair standing out in contrast to pale skin, but unlike Thorin she had dark eyes to match her hair.

“You can call me Dís,” she said with a polite smile. Bilbo had a better impression of her than Thorin already. She bowed to Bilbo and Bilbo, remembering the way Fíli and Kíli had introduced themselves to him the night before, bowed back. He assumed this was a customary thing in their family, so he figured he might as well try to be polite.

Then the man on the other side of Fíli spoke up. “I am Frerin,” the man said. “Dís is my sister and Thorin is our brother.” Frerin did not look as much like his siblings, but the resemblence was there on closer examination.

Fíli and Kíli’s relationship to Thorin explained why they were allowed to accompany him all the way to Bag End. There was no way that they would have been seen as responsible enough to handle that journey unless they had some sort of favor with Thorin, since he seemed to be the one in charge of this expedition to Erebor.

Bilbo already felt a little more comfortable with Frerin and Dís than he had with Thorin. He still wasn’t happy to be here, but he found Thorin’s siblings a lot more amicable than Thorin himself.

But these brief introductions only left more waiting for Bilbo.

Bilbo’s eyes moved down the line from Frerin. Next to him was a short dwarf with white hair and a long white beard to match. “My name is Balin,” the man said, bowing. “And this is my brother Dwalin.” He motioned to the man on the other side of him, a much larger dwarf, who looked years younger than his brother.

Next down the line of the table were Óin and Glóin, followed by Ori, Nori, and Dori, and then Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. By the time Bombur, the plump man with elaborate braids, finished introducing himself Bilbo had moved his eyes down the line of the table to meet Thorin’s eyes. Thorin was seated at the head of the table, on the other side of the room, the clear leader of this eccentric company of dwarves. His expression was still rather unmoving and unemotional.

Only a brief moment’s silence passed before Frerin spoke up. His voice was sharper than it was before, enough to make Bilbo jump in surprise, but he didn’t come off as harsh.

“Fíli, Kíli, why don’t you show Bilbo around the house?” He asked the two. Bilbo looked over and saw the young men’s eyes light up. Bilbo could tell that they had taken quite a liking to him in the less-than twenty four hours they had known him.

If anything, Bilbo liked the idea of some space from Thorin. It seemed like being around friends and family wasn’t enough to bring him out of his seemingly-eternal sulky mood.

Fíli and Kíli jumped out of their seats. Bilbo did the same, but he did not move as sharply or quickly. He didn’t see any point for them to rush; it just seemed like that was a necessary facet of their personalities.

***

The house was simple but elegant enough. What stood out to Bilbo was that there were very few windows in the whole house, but he didn’t point this out to Fíli and Kíli. They already seemed to have enough fun earlier joking with him about his carsickness. Now he wasn’t complaining about the lack of windows that prevented him from seeing out and remembering how high up on the mountains this house was.

However, Bilbo was right that he would enjoy the time away from Thorin. It was refreshing. He had no idea how much time he was going to have to spend with Thorin in the coming days anyway so he welcomed this break.

By the time Fíli and Kíli brought Bilbo back to the main room, the group had decided they were going to eat. It was the middle of the afternoon, so Bilbo thought it was a bit too early for dinner and a little too late for lunch, but he wasn’t complaining. He hadn’t eaten in about twenty-four hours, which was most unbecoming of a hobbit who ate meal after meal throughout the day.

The food was all made by Bombur. He recruited his brother Bofur and cousin Bifur—the latter of whom, Bilbo soon learned, could only speak in the dwarves’ language Khuzdul and through hand gestures—to help him bring out all the food to the table. Bilbo was surprised that Bombur had managed to prepare enough food for more than a dozen people in such a short time. But then again, shouldn’t he have learned by now to not jump to conclusions?

Bilbo took his seat back down at the same spot where had sat down earlier. Fíli and Kíli both took their seats on either side of their mother, just like they had earlier. Everything about the setting felt so familiar to Bilbo that if Bombur wasn’t placing a massive plate of pork in front of him, then he would have felt a pang of déjà vu.

Bombur and his brothers were quick setting the table. It was only a few minutes before they finished and everyone could start helping themselves. In this moment Bilbo remembered that he hadn’t eaten in an entire day and the consequences of that began to sink in. How timely it was that his stomach began to start grumbling so aggressively right then. So much had happened that hunger had been the last thing on Bilbo’s mind, but now with food right in front of him, it was like he jogged his own memory.

At the other side of the table, Ori and Nori began to fill their plates with some meat that Bilbo couldn’t identify from across the table. All around the table everyone else started to do the same, so Bilbo joined in.

The first bite blew Bilbo away. He thought it might have been because he hadn’t eaten in too long, that just being able to eat anything felt amazing. And that was certainly true, until he went in for a second bite and still felt the same degree of amazement with the food on his plate. Bombur deserved credit, especially for how fast he had prepared all this food.

Over the meal the dwarves began to talk about the upcoming quest to Erebor. Bilbo wished that they could just avoid the subject for a bit, but he knew better than to hope to avoid the inevitable. It was in this conversation that Bilbo found out that many of the company at the table—to be more specific, everyone except Dís and Frerin—would accompany Thorin on this journey. Bilbo didn’t even think to be overwhelmed by the idea of a dozen extra men on this quest. How would those logistics even work? It didn’t matter to Bilbo, who was grateful to have more support against Thorin’s wily attitude.

“When are we leaving?” Kíli asked the group, talking to no one in particular.

“As soon as we can,” Dwalin said.

“It’s imperative that we get as much of a head start as we can,” Balin mentioned. “Especially because we’ll have to go through the Shire to continue heading east. Gandalf said he would meet us somewhere along the way, but the sooner we can meet up with him, the better.”

Hearing about the Shire made Bilbo perked up. “If we’re going through the Shire, would it be possible for us to stop at my house so I can pack some stuff?” Thorin raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “What kind of stuff?”

Bilbo gulped, his mind drawing a blank now that he was on the spot. “Er, like my handkerchief.” His voice was a lot softer this time.

Thorin snorted. “A handkerchief? You think that’s important enough to make a stop in the Shire?” Everyone began to laugh. Bilbo tried to force a smile because at the very least, it wasn’t a malevolent laugh. They weren’t trying to make a mockery of him.

“Oh, lad, you’re bound to learn to survive on a lot less than your fancy things like handkerchiefs,” Bofur laughed.

Bilbo waited for a moment of silence to pass before he tried to jump into conversation again. This time he turned to Dís. “Why aren’t you coming?” Bilbo asked, trying to make more polite conversation.

“Frerin and I wanted to stay here with the rest of the dwarves. All of our family and friends are here and it would be good for us to help out with them while you all are away.”

Bilbo didn’t push this line of conversation further because he knew that would teeter into the territory of discussing the quest that Thorin seemed so apprehensive about. He didn’t want to get on Thorin’s bad side by asking too many questions.

For the rest of the meal there were no massive conversations like the one about the quest, just smaller conversations on the side every now and then. Bilbo didn’t mind it. This was the most quiet he had gotten since he left Bag End and he was more than happy to welcome it at this moment. Who knew if moments like this would be few and far between with such a large company of dwarves.

But then his demeanor changed once the meal concluded.

Fíli and Kíli both jumped on the table—on the table? Bilbo couldn’t even fathom thinking that was an acceptable thing to do—and started grabbing plates. They took turns tossing them to each other and then they started a pile to stack up all the plates on the other end of the table. All around the table, everyone except Bilbo began cheering them on by holding onto their forks and knives. And they started throwing the knives.

Throwing the knives! Bilbo thought, his heart beginning to race with discomfort and fear. They’ll blunt them! He forced himself to keep these thoughts to himself, since he was their guest and it would be rude to question their own ways, even if he thought them heinous.

And they kept on going, much to Bilbo’s terror. This was unlike anything he had ever seen. Did they not think about if they would accidentally smash some of their perfectly fine glassware? It seemed all too likely a prospect when they were using it like this.

Once they ran their course playing with their utensils and plates, Bilbo saw that everything had been stacked up in neat piles in front of Bombur. Everyone was cheering at the success of this effort. And then Bifur and Bofur started helping Bombur clear everything from the table and bring it back to the kitchen.

“Come on,” Fíli said to Bilbo as he stood up. “We’ll go start a fire in the other room and sit around that.”

The fire was harmless enough. Certainly an improvement over how they cleared the table.

Bilbo kept to himself a bit as the others talked amongst themselves. The fire reminded him of the night before, sitting by himself in the drawing room in front of the fire, wondering what the hell had happened in his life that would lead him to this moment.

***

Everyone talked among themselves until the fire completely vanished and the embers that remained had no glow left in them.

By this point it must have been late for sure, for at some point everyone had gotten up and Bilbo assumed it was to retire.

“Come with us, Bilbo,” Fíli said, trying to give him some direction in the otherwise confusing wave of movement, “and we’ll show you where you can sleep. We have an extra mattress in our room.”

It didn’t sound like much, but Bilbo had no choice but to agree so he followed Fíli and Kíli into their room. Sure enough, as Fíli had promised, there was a spare mattress on the floor next to the bed, where he assumed the brothers would be sleeping.

“I know it’s not much,” Kíli said, “but hopefully you’ll be able to get some sleep tonight. Our uncle is probably going to cause a storm first thing tomorrow morning trying to get everyone ready to go.”

“It’s fine, thank you,” Bilbo mumbled as he settled onto the mattress. Like with his hunger earlier, he hadn’t realized the full extent of his physical exhaustion until he laid back onto the mattress. It was a rather stiff mattress, but it still felt like such a significant improvement to rest his aching bones on something besides even stiffer car seats, stiffer chairs, and stiff everything.

It didn’t take Bilbo long to find a comfortable position and try to doze off into a sleep. It wasn’t going to be a long night.

As Bilbo closed his eyes, he realized that this moment was the first time in a long time that he had thought about his father.

Chapter Text

The night passed so quickly for Bilbo that it felt like he had barely gotten more than a few minutes’ worth of sleep before he was being jostled awake by Kíli. He hadn’t thought that the mattress would be quite that comfortable.

“Just a minute,” he grumbled while still half-awake. That seemed to be enough for Kíli to back off. He took his time opening his eyes and adjusting to the light. This room had more light than most of the house, with one window open, even on a completely overcast day like that day.

It took a minute longer for him to start sitting up, but by the time he did he felt a little more awake and ready for whatever day lay ahead of him. Looking up, he saw Fíli standing above him.

“We’ll be at the table waiting for breakfast,” Fíli said. “Take your time, but don’t take too long. Thorin won’t want to wait around for you.”

***

Bilbo meandered out of the room after a few minutes by himself. When he took his seat at the table, he was relieved to see that about half of the company was still not awake yet. At least Thorin’s potential fury wouldn’t be directed at him for taking too long in the morning.

Of course Thorin was one of those who was already awake. He stood in the corner, silent and separate from the others who were also at the table.

“Good morning, Bilbo,” Balin said as Bilbo sat down at the table.

“Good morning,” Bilbo responded, trying to raise his voice because his throat was dry so he thought talking at his usual volume would come out as little more than a croaking noise.

***

Breakfast was a quiet meal, but Bilbo still felt satisfied by the meal itself. It didn’t feel like home by any stretch, but he did take some comfort in the small familiarity of it. It wasn’t too much unlike the dinner he had had the previous night.

Thorin was itching to head out of Ered Luin by the time Bombur cleared the last dish from the table. Nobody else felt quite so ready, though.

“We can wait just a little bit,” Balin hissed. Bilbo had gathered that Balin seemed like the one who wasn’t afraid to stand up to Thorin in a way that none of the others did. Everyone else seemed like they would consistently defer to Thorin’s judgement. From snippets of the conversations going on last night, Bilbo gathered that Balin was one of Thorin’s cousins, so naturally as family he would be a little more bold with his own.

Thorin glared at Balin out of the side of his eye, but he seemed to back off after that.

It only took a few minutes for Bombur to ascend from the kitchen and return to the table where everyone else waited.

“Alright then,” Thorin said, standing up. “We should pack to leave now. We need to leave while the daylight is still out. We have a long way to go.” With that, he walked out of the room.

“You ought to get your belongings ready,” Fíli leaned over to say to Bilbo. “Thorin isn’t going to want to wait any longer. He gets so impatient about this quest so it’s best to just go with it as best as you can.”

“That’s okay,” Bilbo said. “I should be ready to go in just a few minutes.” He rose from the table and began to head back to his room. He could hear Fíli and Kíli trailing behind a few moments later.

When he got to the room, it felt a lot more cramped than it had the night before. Not that it mattered. All he had to do was gather his things—a rather easy step because he did not have a lot of stuff—and then head right back out.

The room felt even tighter once Fíli and Kíli came in, but thankfully Bilbo only had a moment’s overlap sharing the room with them. He ran right out as fast as he could. He moved faster down the hallway this time, back to the main room, and he even found himself letting out a small sigh of relief. He couldn’t figure out quite why he was a little happy to be leaving Ered Luin, but he supposed it was because it would be nice to get over the drive back down the mountain a little faster.

When Bilbo came out of the house, he felt overwhelmed by how bright everything outside felt. He blinked to let his eyes to adjust to the light faster and once he did, he looked over to where Thorin stood across the rocks and noticed that Gandalf was with him. Then he remembered that Gandalf had promised to meet up with them at the mountains. Bilbo made his way over to where they stood, not noticing that Fíli and Kíli were clamoring out of the mountain along with all the others.

“It’s good to see you’re still in one piece, Bilbo,” Gandalf said when Bilbo was close enough to hear over the echo of the mountains.

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” Bilbo found himself asking, not sure of what else to say. That was something tugging in the back of his mind, a thought he didn’t bother addressing up until now. Gandalf was a wizard and wizards had their own affairs here and there to deal with.

“As I told you, I had other business to attend to,” Gandalf said, his voice calm in spite of the potential accusatory nature of Bilbo’s question. “Now that that’s taken care of, though, I shall see you all the rest of the way to the Lonely Mountain.”

The rest of the company came out of the mountain, all in such a loud clamber that it made Thorin look over. Gandalf kept his gaze focused and didn’t flinch at the sudden influx of sound echoing around the mountain range.

“Gandalf!” Bofur yelled, coming over to where Gandalf and Bilbo stood.

“It’s good to see you, Bofur,” Gandalf replied.

“Where are we off to first?” Bofur asked, looking between Gandalf and Thorin for some guidance.

“I think perhaps we ought to go to Rivendell,” Gandalf said. “The elves could be more help than you might think. It would do us well to ensure that Lord Elrond is on our side.”

That turned Thorin’s resting frown into a dark scowl.

“Never,” Thorin hissed. “I would never want to turn to them for help.”

“Then might you suggest a better way to go? What other options do you think you have? You have to drive through the area to make it all the way east, so why not stop along the way in the house of Elrond, who might actually be on your side if you stopped to be nice to him?”

That brought Thorin pause. Everyone knew the silent answer nonetheless. Thorin didn’t have another suggestion, but that didn’t mean he was willing to bend to Gandalf’s suggestion either. Such was Thorin’s apparent stubbornness.

A moment passed. “Well, what are you going to do Gandalf?” Bilbo asked, assuming that Gandalf was going to pass on riding in the van again.

“Me? I shall take my own way down the mountains later in the day. I’ll meet up with you later, once you’ve decided on a way to go.” Out of the corner of his eye, he glared at Thorin, clearly frustrated with Thorin’s refusal. He didn’t try to make those feelings a secret.

This response startled Bilbo, but no one else seemed to be phased by Gandalf’s words. It was one thing to come up to Ered Luin without Gandalf, but still equipped with the knowledge that he was going to meet up with them soon enough. But to go off into the world without Gandalf as a guide at all? Was he really going to let them loose like this?

Gandalf waved away the others and made his way into the mountain. Bilbo watched him duck his head at the door and slide away into the tunnel. Meanwhile, the others began packing up their things into the van. Bilbo didn’t understand how they were going to fit everyone into one van, considering how many people Thorin expected to accompany him. But Thorin was already in a sour enough mood from this encounter with Gandalf, so Bilbo heaved a sigh and sulked to the van, his items in tow.

***

Driving down the mountains turned out to be a lot worse than going up had been. The twisting and turning drive was already bad enough, but sure enough, as Bilbo had feared, Thorin had managed to squeeze everyone into the seats of the van. It was like a puzzle of piecing together who could fit where in the midst of their items. It was a miracle that everyone had packed light, otherwise it would have been nigh but impossible for this task to be feasible. Bilbo didn’t even want to think about how much of a safety issue this arrangement would be. It was better that way because he knew he still wasn’t in a place to protest. The back seats were loud with the booming voices of the other men, but in the front passenger’s seat was Fíli and Thorin in the driver’s seat, where both parties remained silent.

Bilbo felt a sense of relief at the sheer amount of noise in the back of the van. Somehow he used it to his advantage to tune out his own motion sickness, which balanced out the rest of the discomfort he felt that wouldn’t go away.

***

As the day progressed, Bilbo had adjusted, bit by reluctant bit, to the new circumstances of this situation. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would have stayed put in Bag End if he knew leaving would come to this.

Bilbo couldn’t keep track of where the van took them over the course of the day. He was smaller than everyone else so he was sandwiched in the middle seat of the van, squished in between everyone and thus unable to look out the windows.

Eventually, the van came to a stop and the men began to tumble out of the back doors. By the time Bilbo got a glimpse of the outside world, he saw the sky was beginning to turn a faint, pretty shade of pink. The sun was setting. How long had they been driving?

Climbing out of the car, Bilbo took a thorough look around the clearing where they had parked the van. There was nothing around in any direction that he could see. They had stopped on the edge of a forest and Bilbo assumed that it was far east beyond the borders of the Shire.

But there was no pause from anyone else to take in the moment. Everyone else began pulling their belongings out of the van and setting up camp for the night. Only Bilbo took this pause.

The men began singing, a low singing, as they moved. It was all in conjunction and it made Bilbo feel like an outsider onlooking at an intimate moment among the company.

But then Bilbo blinked and remembered that he had his own things still tucked away somewhere in the back of the van. He turned around to pull his own things out and then he joined everyone else already unpacking their things.

Bombur had managed to pack a lot of food into his bag, enough to at least last this night. Bilbo was relieved that Bombur had prepared, realizing that his stomach was now grumbling. Packed into the car for the entire day meant that he hadn’t eaten since that large breakfast that morning. A good meal would be a welcome change of pace, even though it only would last for the time being.

Bombur took his time preparing the food while everyone sat around a fire they had just started. As the minutes passed Bombur began to finish preparing the food and began passing around shares of the ration to everyone. Bilbo took his share with enthusiasm, thankful to finally have some good food to hold him over for the night. The rest of the company began to enjoy the meal around him as well and there was an air of serenity that Bilbo had not felt in the last several days.

***

The men stayed awake in a merry frenzy even after night fell. The moon rising into the sky made Bilbo feel sleepy, but none of the dwarves tried to go to sleep until the last embers of the fire burned out. Bilbo hadn’t bothered trying to fall asleep before then, knowing that the noise would keep him awake no matter how hard he tried to reach for sleep. Though he stayed awake, he was anything but the center of attention.

As the dwarves readied themselves for sleep, Bilbo anticipated they would only have a short night’s slumber.

“We leave at the first light of dawn,” Thorin said.

Bilbo didn’t understand Thorin’s sense of such urgency. What was the rush? It was so unlike his hobbitish nature to be hasty like this, but he certainly wouldn’t protest against Thorin’s demand. The dwarves deferred to Thorin as their leader—and Bilbo supposed he understood that, since this was his family’s estate they were journeying to—so why would it be Bilbo’s place to question his unspoken but well-understood authority? Besides, Thorin seemed to have enough skepticism about bringing a hobbit along on the quest, so Bilbo did not want to add fuel to that fire.

As Bilbo settled onto the grass, he realized the weight of the exhaustion he had been carrying. It was all of the exhaustion from that day, but there was still lingering exhaustion from the previous day as well. The grass was by no means a comfortable mattress suited for a good night’s rest, but the release of tension that came with laying back on it made it a suitable arrangement given the circumstances. Bilbo was sound asleep in a matter of minutes.

But he did not sleep for long.

Bilbo began to have his first dream of the night, but there was no way he was going to remember it because he jolted awake to the sound of screaming. He initially rose in a blur, but upon realizing that the screaming was not only real but also coming from close to him, he jumped, full consciousness overwhelming his system.

Around him, the other dwarves stirred, all of them also awoken by the same piercing screams.

It didn’t take long for Bilbo to realize why.

Standing above all of them were three enormous trolls. And one of them was holding Kíli.

Bilbo had heard of trolls from tales he read as a child. They were angrier and uglier than Bilbo imagined them in the stories. What were they doing here, and why had they grabbed Kíli? Whatever the reason, it couldn’t be good.

Then another thought crossed Bilbo’s mind. How had all of them slept through a band of trolls stomping right up to their encampment? The trolls had big and meaty limbs and a weak sense of balance. However they got here, it wouldn’t have been a quiet entrance. But there was no time to dwell on that because they had Kíli and who knew what they wanted to do with the rest of them.

Bilbo tried to tune out the flurry of noise. The dwarves were shouting, Thorin the loudest among them, but the trolls seemed to pay no mind to their cries of protest as they grumbled amongst themselves, their words unintelligible. There would be no reasoning with them. If they were hungry they would prepare to hold each of them over the fire to cook them to perfection. This wasn’t a fair match: thirteen dwarves and a hobbit didn’t stand much chance up against three angry trolls. Especially because they already had Kíli captive and could use him as a tool for bargaining.

So much for this adventure, right? Bilbo thought.

Just as Bilbo felt as though they would have to resign to defeat, he saw Gandalf making his way across the clearing. Gandalf who had prior abandoned them was now returning. Flooded with reassurance about their predicament, Bilbo dared not move, hoping he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. The trolls had now fixed their focus on the dwarves and especially on Thorin since they were the ones speaking out to defend Kíli.

But Gandalf’s arrival was what diverted their attention. They dropped Kíli and turned to face the wizard now approaching them from the opposite direction. Kíli picked himself up off the ground in a haste and sprinted straight towards his brother.

With the trolls’ backs to the Company now, it was hard to see Gandalf among them, but Bilbo strained his neck to catch some sight of him. He wanted to know what was happening.

He only caught sight of the gray wizard for a second, but he could see him pulling out a pouch from his cloak. Bilbo couldn’t get a better look, but he guessed it was a coin pouch. Was Gandalf going to bribe their way out of this?

But it was also at this moment that Bilbo saw the sun start to peer over the horizon. The night had been short just as he had anticipated after all. He recalled the tales of trolls from his childhood again. He swore he remembered something about sunlight turning trolls to stone. The information was twisted up in his memory, blurring the line between fact and fiction, so there was no way he could know if that had been true or not.

Bilbo couldn’t hear what Gandalf was saying to the trolls, but it seemed to be enough to keep them here for a moment longer. The dwarves whispered among themselves, but their hushed voices felt like a normal volume to Bilbo as opposed to the sound of someone wanting to keep quiet so they wouldn’t be overheard. The trolls made no indication of hearing them, though, but the fear of the trolls’ volatility kept everyone rooted in their place. No one could guess what would happen if one of them tried to run away and it wasn’t a risk they were willing to take.

Gandalf seemed to be buying time by keeping the trolls talking, probably about how they wanted to cook the dwarves because that was what the trolls were interested in the most. Staying a moment longer turned into a minute longer and a minute longer brought the sun over the horizon. It was enough to turn the trolls to stone right in their place.

Gandalf tapped one of the trolls with his staff, chuckling to himself with satisfaction.

There was a brief pause before the dwarves roared in applause, all of them running for Gandalf in thanks. All of them except Thorin, who remained a few steps behind everyone else.

“I see the quest has been going well in my absence,” Gandalf retorted, speaking to all of them but all the while eyeing Thorin specifically.

Thorin hesitated, but then moved forward so he was closer to Gandalf. Bilbo trailed toward the wizard too, not wanting to appear the odd one out lingering behind the rest.

“Might I ask where you’ve been?” Thorin asked.

“I was merely scouting out the road ahead.”

“And what brought you back?” “It was looking behind, and it’s a good thing I did, too.”

Now Fíli spoke up. “How did you know it would work? Er, this…” He gestured to the stone-cold trolls.

“Because it’s impossible for trolls to move in daylight. They could only move under the cover of darkness.” So Bilbo had remembered that piece of information right.

“And the bribe?” Bilbo remarked. “I saw you were going to bribe them with gold to leave us, were you not?”

“Leave it to trolls to covet gold. They intended you all to be their dinner, but they couldn’t say no to more gold to add to their hoard. I was hoping the bribe would be enough to get them to part with their potential feast.”

“There has to be a cave nearby,” Thorin said.

***

They waited until the sun came up a little more before they looked for a cave. It didn’t take long to find a dugout along the hillside, plenty large enough for everyone to fit into it.

The trolls’ cave was somehow even fouler than the trolls themselves. The first thing Bilbo noticed about the cave was the foul stench that filled the air. It was such an embedded part of the scenery that Bilbo couldn’t imagine anything else here without that smell permeating. He stayed nearer to the entrance so he could still inhale some of the relieving fresh air as gusts of wind brought some refreshment into the cave. He couldn’t fathom how Gandalf and some of the other dwarves were able to wander deeper into the cave and be able to at least tolerate the smell all along the way.

He ventured to take a few steps deeper into the cave, but that was all he could muster. The stench became too overpowering too quickly and there was no way Bilbo was going to willingly subject himself to any more of that.

From the distance he saw Thorin and Gandalf shine a flashlight over a couple swords sticking out amongst all of the gold piled up on the ground. They each took a sword and pulled them out of their scabbards to admire the craftsmanship that went into the blades. They were enormous and eloquent.

“These blades are of Elvish make,” Gandalf said.

Thorin’s expression of intrigue looking over the blade turned to a scowl and he began to push it back into the scabbard until Gandalf added, “You could not wish for a finer blade.” Thorin paused and pulled it all the way out of the scabbard to appreciate all of the work that went into forging this sword. Gandalf was pulling the cobwebs off of the sword he had grabbed.

Thorin started to move back towards the mouth of the cave so Bilbo turned on his heel to make his way out of the cave. He was ecstatic to be able to breathe in the crisp and clean air outside once again without having to feel like he had to hold his breath so he wouldn’t pass out from the smell of the cave.

“Bilbo!” Gandalf called and Bilbo turned around just as the wizard ascended from the mouth of the cave. “Here, this should be your size,” he said as he handed a much smaller sword towards Bilbo.

Bilbo tried to refuse the sword—he didn’t want this, so why was Gandalf giving it to him?—but Gandalf handed it to him, adamant. “I should hope you never have to use it, but it would be good for you to have it on you just in case,” the wizard said.

Bilbo pulled this sword out of the scabbard and saw that it had a similar intricate design on its body like the larger blades that Gandalf and Thorin discovered. This too must have been a blade of ancient Elvish make.

“Where are we going now?” Fíli asked. Bilbo turned around to rejoin the others, realizing he was the one lingering behind in the moment where his eyes were transfixed on this sword Gandalf presented him.

Bilbo’s eyes darted to Thorin to see how he would respond. After all, he was the one who started the row with Gandalf over what they should do, so Gandalf had been right that they had ended up here without his guidance.

Finally, Thorin rose from the ground. “I suppose we could benefit from having you around,” he grumbled. He was reluctant to swallow his pride like this, but he didn’t make an extra effort to say so quietly. Everyone could hear him. After all, it was Gandalf who saved them from the trolls, Gandalf who ultimately saved their lives in that encounter. Who knew what would have happened had he not been there to intervene. There was no denying how much they needed Gandalf’s help in that moment.

Raising his voice, Gandalf said, “Perhaps Lord Elrond would provide some safety away from the rogue trolls that you would encounter out in the open like this.” Gandalf smirked.

“Fine, we’ll go with your plan,” Thorin huffed. They all knew he wasn’t going to get out of it this time.

Chapter Text

Bilbo was glad that it was already morning because he knew there was no way he was going to be able to sleep after everything that had just happened. It was all whizzing around in his mind, leaving him in a bit of a daze, but not one so strong that it would be able to knock him out. He was going to have to stay awake and suffer through whatever discomfort came his way.

Bilbo didn’t know the way to Rivendell. He thought the name sounded familiar from one of his maps, but his memory was fuzzy on the geography of the world beyond the Shire. Through and through, the Shire was the place he knew best.

“You might also know it as Imladris,” Gandalf said when Bilbo asked. “That’s what the elves call it. In the common tongue it is known as Rivendell.”

Bilbo thought the name Imladris also sounded familiar, but he didn’t think on it anymore. His thoughts were going nowhere.

“Go now, Thorin’s surely waiting on all of you now. He knows the way so he should be able to get you there in one piece.”

Thorin made sure the dwarves started to pile into the van. Remembering how Thorin said he wanted to leave at dawn, Bilbo supposed it was well-past time to go. Who knew just how antsy Thorin was getting at the idea of waiting around any longer. They already spent more time in this area than he would have liked. Bilbo climbed into the an, back into his usual spot at the center of the back seats. Thorin would be able to get everyone there without Gandalf’s help, even though doing so went against everything he wanted to do in that moment.

***

Rivendell was not that far a drive away. It was an hour or two in the van at the most. The roads along this path were in a lot better condition than those in the unincorporated land between the Shire and Ered Luin, but they still weren’t up to the high standards of Shire roads. These roads must not have been in use a lot. There were few who traveled this way.

Rivendell proper was an elaborate estate. The house was a large mansion at the edge of a massive clearing. The clearing was a field tucked between mountains, but it did not feel so open and aimless like the field where they encountered the trolls. In the middle of this clearing was a cobblestone path that led to the front doors of the mansion, giving all of the scenery a sense of purpose in its greater picture.

Thorin parked the van at the edge of the estate, not far from where the path began. They took slow steps along the path. They barely made it a few feet before Gandalf joined them, taking the lead for the rest of the way to the front doors.

The front doors swung open once they got close, as if their host were expecting their arrival. On the other side of the doors stood a tall, dark-haired elf.

This must be Lord Elrond, then, Bilbo thought.

“Mithrandir,” the elf said. “Mae govannen.”

“It is good to see you as well, Lord Elrond,” Gandalf said.

Then Elrond’s eyes moved past Gandalf. “What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Rivendell?”

Thorin continued to eye Elrond with suspicion, his expression unrevealing. But Bilbo was starting to get better at reading Thorin’s emotions, even though he wanted to keep hidden from just anyone.

“We were passing through,” Gandalf spoke up, “and we encountered a band of trolls along the way. Are you aware that trolls were so close to your borders?”

Elrond raised an eyebrow. “I was not aware.” He looked troubled by this news, but did not press the subject any further. Then he started to speak in Sindarin. Bilbo noticed how much this enraged the dwarves, who clearly did not understand a single word. They readied to defend themselves as though Elrond posed a threat.

“What is he saying?” Glóin growled.

“He is offering you food,” Gandalf said. That appeased the dwarves.

“Well, in that case, that’s quite alright then.”

Elrond stepped aside so everyone could come inside. They all piled in. Gandalf let everyone in first and Bilbo trailed behind so he was the last one in before Gandalf.

The interior of the house was lavishly decorated, but also rather minimal in design. Bright lights dominated the scope of the room, lending a liveliness to the room in an orangeish-yellow hue that Bilbo found comforting. To the left was a large staircase that made the house feel larger with the awareness of the upstairs and to the right, the ground floor expanded with a corridor to connect it to the entryway.

Elrond led everyone down the corridor. It was open and wide, but not so much that it felt overwhelming. The corridor was lit with the same aura as the entryway, giving it the same impression of home that Bilbo felt in the entryway. It was quiet but not so quiet that the silence engulfed everything else. At the end of the hallway was an enormous, elaborate dining room. The dining room had a long table at the center with more than enough seats for the entire Company.

At the opposite end of the dining room was a door that presumably led to the kitchen. An elf emerged from the swinging door and, without paying attention to the rugged band of dwarves, spoke to Elrond in Sindarin. After a brief back-and-forth, the elf returned to the kitchen.

“Please, sit,” Elrond said, gesturing to the table. “The food will be ready soon.” He took a seat at the head of the table. Gandalf sat next to Elrond on one side, Thorin on the other. Bilbo ended up between Balin and Thorin.

Judging from the position of the sun while they were outside, it had to be around midday, so Bilbo thought it was the optimal time for a meal. He felt particularly drained and hungry after the events of the night. Bombur knew how to make a good meal out of the rations they traveled with, but it would only hold them over for so long, so it was about time for more food by Bilbo’s standards.

The elves were quite efficient at preparing their meals. Bilbo hardly had to wait more than a matter of minutes for the food to be ready. Multiple elves began to pour out of the kitchen, all of them carrying various bowls. The table was already set with a bowl and utensils at every seat. The bowls the elves brought out all contained fresh greens and they distributed these bowls across the table.

Bilbo looked around the table and saw the dwarves’ discomfort with the idea of eating salads. It was like none of them had ever seen a green vegetable in their lives. Looking back on the prior meals he shared with the dwarves, Bilbo supposed it made sense: they ate entire meals of just meat and bread. He had always been so hungry come mealtime that he never stopped to think about the notable lack of vegetables. Even if he had, he would have thought it more out of convenience rather than attributing it to an aversion to an entire food group.

Across the table, Bilbo saw Ori and Dori mumbling to each other.

“Do they actually eat these leaves?” Dori questioned, and then he looked over at his younger brother who eyed his food with suspicion. “Come on, just eat one.”

“But I don’t like green food.”

“Where’s the meat?” Dwalin asked a little louder, sifting through the bowl of greens in front of him.

If Elrond took offense at the dwarves questioning the elves’ choice of food, he made no indication of it. Instead of paying them any mind, he looked over to Gandalf, who must have mentioned the swords they found in the troll cave because he pulled out his own sword.

Elrond took the sword and examined the craftsmanship. “This is Glamdring,” he said. “The Foe-hammer.”

Gandalf pushed Thorin to present his sword for identification as well. Thorin was reluctant, but he didn’t put up much of a fight against it, no matter how much apprehension he probably felt in his mind. Elrond handed Glamdring back to Gandalf and took Thorin’s sword as the dwarf handed it over.

“This is Orcrist,” Elrond said as he looked over Thorin’s sword. “Both of these were forged in the old days of Gondolin by my kin. How did you find them?”

“We found them in a troll cave,” Gandalf said. “They had to set up camp in a cave not far from where we found them because they were drifting out of the mountains, so they couldn’t move by day and had to find a place to stay during the day.”

As Gandalf and Elrond further discussed the Company’s encounter with the trolls, Bilbo pulled his own sword out of its scabbard. He looked it over, but kept it under the table and out of sight.

“I wouldn’t bother, laddie,” Balin said, startling Bilbo even though he kept his voice hushed. Bilbo hadn’t realized he was that fixated on his sword. “Swords are named for the great deeds they’ve seen in battle.”

“Are you saying my sword hasn’t seen battle?”

“I don’t even know if it’s a sword at all, really. It’s more like a letter opener.”

Bilbo frowned as he tucked the sword back into its scabbard, stealing one more glance at it before he forced himself to return to the present moment of the meal.

***

At the end of the meal, Elrond brought up the inevitable question again. “So, tell me. What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Rivendell?”

“It’s simple,” Thorin said, his tone surprisingly civil given his clear disdain for the elves. “We’re going to take back Erebor. It’s about time it is back in the rightful hands of the line of Durin.”

“There are some who would deem it unwise,” Elrond said, shifting his gaze between Thorin and Gandalf. Gandalf seemed to understand what Elrond meant, but Thorin ignored it. “Are you sure this isn’t too risky an endeavor?”

“There is no risk if you don’t try.”

“And what of this Halfling you travel with?” Elrond turned the conversation—along with his unwavering gaze—toward Bilbo. Bilbo found it unnerving to suddenly be the center of conversation.

“I am Bilbo Baggins of the Shire,” Bilbo said. He couldn’t help but think about how his voice nearly cracked when he mentioned the Shire. He wished he could be back there, back home, right now.

Elrond looked at Thorin. “Why do you travel with a hobbit from the Shire? What stake does he have in reclaiming the Arkenstone?”

“He is the son of Belladonna Took,” Gandalf added.

Elrond paused, returning his gaze to Bilbo. “You are one of the Tooks. Yes, I see now.” Bilbo felt the color flush out of his face. “Well, it’s unfortunate that Erebor fell into the hands of Smaug. He is infamous across all of Middle-earth as a jewel thief. The Arkenstone on top of one of Middle-earth’s most prosperous mines and all of its gold would be the ultimate prize for him. Fate is on your side, Thorin Oakenshield, for a Took just might stand a chance in helping you on this quest.”

If Thorin heeded Elrond’s words, his expression made no indication of it. He remained stoic, albeit annoyed at being here in the first place. Bilbo assumed this annoyance had to do more with Elrond mentioning the Arkenstone. This had to be the family heirloom Thorin mentioned the first night he and Bilbo met, but he seemed to want to keep the details of it shrouded in secrecy, something which Elrond did not share.

“Very well,” Elrond went on. “We can extend our hospitality to you all for as long as you need. We can’t help any more beyond that, but I hope you accept the offer to stay here for the night.”

“That would be very much appreciated,” Gandalf said.

“Lindir will show you all where you are staying.” An elf shorter than Elrond, but with similar dark hair, joined Elrond at his side.

The elf called Lindir began to lead the dwarves out of the dining room and down the corridor. The corridor felt uneasier now than it had when they had first arrived, but Bilbo felt that reflected his state of mind more than anything else.

Bilbo felt someone tapping on his shoulder while he was walking. He was at the end of the line of dwarves, so he could only guess it was Gandalf. And his intuition turned out to be correct when he turned around and saw the wizard close behind him. Once they got to the staircase, Gandalf paused, which made Bilbo hesitate, too.

“I would like to speak with Bilbo in private for a moment,” Gandalf said to Lindir. “You can show the dwarves where they’ll be staying and I can see to Bilbo.”

Lindir nodded his understanding and led the dwarves up the stairs. Bilbo watched them go until Gandalf started speaking again.

“You know, Elrond is right,” Gandalf started right away, not skipping a beat. “Your part in this journey will be bigger than any of them realize, Thorin himself least of all.”

“Why did you pick me to be part of this quest?” Bilbo asked. “You know Thorin must think my very presence is a burden hindering his journey.”

“I think you know why, and I think it would do you well not to jump to such brash conclusions about Thorin. He underestimates you, but if he truly took issue with you being here he wouldn’t have asked me for help in finding a burglar for him in the first place.”

“But I’m not a burglar,” Bilbo said. “I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

“That’s enough now. Come now, let me show you where you’ll stay.”

Bilbo climbed the stairs ahead of Gandalf, who remained a few consistent steps behind him.

At the top of the staircase was another, albeit smaller, corridor. Doors lined the wall, each presumably opening to chambers where the dwarves were all staying. Gandalf led Bilbo past a few doors before finally stopping at one. He opened the door and the first thing Bilbo noticed was that the room was empty.

“Lord Elrond thought it best that a hobbit have his own room separate from the dwarves,” Gandalf said. “It’ll probably smell a little more pleasant, if nothing else.” He and Bilbo shared a laugh.

The room wasn’t large, but compared to the past few nights it felt like an upgrade. The room had a bed—it was rather large for Bilbo’s size—and a dresser. It felt a little more like home than Bilbo’s sleeping arrangements of the previous nights. It was still rather early in the day, but Bilbo felt the exhaustion from the night overcome him as he thought about how he would be sleeping comfortably while they were here.

“You should settle in and get some sleep tonight while you can,” Gandalf said. “Who knows when you’ll get to enjoy a good night’s rest in a warm bed again.”

Chapter Text

The remainder of the day in Rivendell was peaceful and Bilbo felt safe and content. Exploring the rest of the house, the elves showed him the elaborate, sophisticated security system they set up. There was no fear of any sort of attack so long as the Company stayed here. Thorin may have felt nothing but hostility toward the elves, but they did not extend the same harsh feeling to him. At least, they didn’t show such feeling outwardly.

Thorin remained adamant that the Company only stay one night in Rivendell—Bilbo was sure that he thought even the one night would be much too long—and stayed strong in his resolve in spite of Balin’s protests that they ought to take advantage of the elves’ hospitality and rest here while they could.

“I trust my cousin’s judgement,” Balin confided to Bilbo later, “but he is very stubborn and does not take to changing his mind so easily.”

Bilbo slept soundly that night, a full night’s sleep without any interruption. When he woke up the next morning, he felt well-rested and the most refreshed he had felt in days. The bed was plenty large enough for him to stretch out so he took advantage of that to make himself as comfortable as possible.

Once Bilbo rose the tone of the morning wasn’t so peaceful. There was an air of hurrying with Thorin’s insistence on leaving Rivendell as soon as possible. Gandalf managed to convince Thorin to stay as long as breakfast, rather than scurry away at the first light of dawn, so that gave Bilbo some peace of mind. He was happy to enjoy one last meal here before they set off.

Nerves surrounding the continuation of the quest filled the air of the meal, but Bilbo at least enjoyed the meal itself. Elrond’s kitchen served some of the best meals he had had outside of the Shire in his life and he hoped that some day he could return to Rivendell to appreciate Elrond’s food and company again.

Once the meal was over, Thorin was the first to rise from the table. A moment lapsed and everyone else moved to follow him. They all returned to their chambers to gather what little belongings they brought with them. Bilbo stayed in his room longer than the others, using the extra time to make his bed. It was a small gesture of thanks he could give back to the elves for their gracious hospitality. Who knew what state the dwarves would leave their rooms in, so at least they wouldn’t have to worry about the state of Bilbo’s.

Bilbo was the last to head down the stairs. The dwarves, Gandalf, and Elrond all waited for him at the foot of the staircase. As he descended the stairs Bilbo realized that Gandalf and Elrond were so close to each other in height. He was short enough among anyone besides the company of other hobbits that he never thought about the height of taller folk like Gandalf and the elves, but he found this particular discovery to be an interesting observation nonetheless.

Elrond beamed when he saw Bilbo climbing down the stairs. Then he moved to address the Company as a whole. “I wish you all the best on your quest.”

“Thank you,” Gandalf said.

Without thinking, Bilbo realized he had moved his gaze to Thorin as he reached the bottom of the stairs, hoping to study his assessment of the situation. As usual, Thorin’s expression lent no strong hint of emotion. Bilbo guessed he let his guard down a little bit with relief that they were now leaving the domain of the elves. Bilbo thought about the Arkenstone and wondered why Thorin was so adamant about reclaiming it. How did he think that would help overthrow Smaug’s dominion in Erebor?

Elrond led everyone to the front doors. Bilbo trailed behind Thorin, who was off to the side of the group. Elrond remained at the front of the group, opening the front doors for everyone. They all made their way outside and the first thing Bilbo noticed was that the air outside was cooler and crisper than the warmer air inside. He had gotten so used to the interior heating of the house during their stay here, short as it was.

“Farewell, Thorin Oakenshield,” Elrond said. “I wish all of you safe travels on this journey. If all goes well I should hope that Smaug will no longer be the same threat he has been to Middle-earth for all of these years.”

“Thank you,” Thorin grumbled. He turned away from the doors and the Company followed. Behind them, the doors to Rivendell slammed shut.

Gandalf walked with the Company all the way to the can. It was still parked in the same spot at the edge of the estate, right where Thorin left it the day before.

“I will meet up with all of you on the other side of the Misty Mountains,” Gandalf explained, “but I need to warn you. Last I heard of the Misty Mountains was that it was infested with goblins, so I must urge you to avoid that route going straight through the mountains. It would be most perilous and foolish. The drive around the mountains will take you hundreds of miles south and will certainly prolong your journey, but I will meet you at the Gap of Rohan south of the mountains. The road there is much safer.”

“What choice do we have?” Thorin asked.

“If you were to go through the mountains and encounter the goblins it would be certain death.”

“Very well, then. We’ll do it your way.”

“You will not be able to reach the Gap of Rohan before nightfall today, but I will wait for you there.” With that, he started walking away from the Company, using his staff as a walking stick. Bilbo once again wondered how Gandalf got around on his own, but he was a wizard so many of his ways were shrouded in magic and secrecy.

The Company began to pile into the van, grounding Bilbo back in reality. He made sure he wasn’t the last one into the van. He was starting to like being crammed into the middle of the dwarf pile in the back seats. It wasn’t any less uncomfortable, but it was preferable to sitting in one of the window seats that would surely exacerbate his motion sickness. If there was one thing he was learning about Middle-earth from this quest, it was that a lot of the roads were not in great condition.

***

Thorin eventually stopped the van towards the foot of the mountain by a body of water. He climbed out of the driver’s seat, so all the dwarves followed suit, assuming this was a planned stop. Bilbo assumed this would be where they would stop for the night because they must have driven for several hours straight. The sun was still out, but the afternoon was waning and Bilbo felt stiff from sitting packed into the van for too long.

The sky was a captivating shade of purple as the sun lowered toward the horizon. Thorin parked on a rocky piece of land alongside a stream. It seemed serene, but the mood of the dwarves did not match this.

“Where are we?” Bilbo asked.

“We are outside the mines of Moria,” Balin said. “These mines used to belong to our kin but they were abandoned long ago. I believe we might have one day returned to these mines, but at some point they collapsed in so we will never be able to reestablish dominion there. Luckily it had been abandoned by the time it collapsed in so no dwarves were lost, but it is still a tragedy that we all have to face. We all know the history of Moria, but most have not seen the mines for themselves—that is, at leas tthe exterior of it since that’s all that’s left.”

“We also have a flat tire,” Thorin sighed. “Balin, make sure everyone gets settled here for the night. I’m going to have to change the tire now while we still have some light.” Thorin turned away and walked back to the van.

“Alright now, you all heard Thorin.” Balin raised his voice as he addressed the rest of the dwarves. “We’re going to be here for the night. Bombur, can you start preparing some food for us? Bofur, will you take the first watch tonight? I can take the second watch.”

Bofur and Bombur agreed.

“Is there any way I can help?” Bilbo asked.

“There isn’t, actually,” Balin said after a moment of contemplation. “Why don’t you get some rest? We’re going to be here a while.” Balin turned to the rest of the dwarves to instruct them further.

Across the clearing Bilbo saw Thorin pulling a spare tire out from underneath the car. He seemed so in his element while he worked to switch out the flat tire for this new tire. This Thorin felt so different from the cold and aloof dwarf that Bilbo knew so well.

Bilbo decided he wanted to explore this open area a bit since it was going to be a while before Thorin finished changing the tire and Bombur finished preparing dinner for everyone. Moria seemed to be a significant place for these dwarves, so it would be good for Bilbo to get a good look around the space. There wasn’t much to see in the particular spot where they stopped because they stopped along the stream but quite a distance from the bottom of the mountain, where the entrance to the collapsed mine must have been. Thorin made sure they parked far enough off the road, though, so they would not be mistaken as vagabonds by random passerby late at night. But they were still a fair distance away from the mountain proper. It was far enough that Bilbo didn’t want to make the trek to the bottom of the mountain and risk having to walk back to the encampment in the dark or, worse, risk missing dinner.

Bilbo did not realize how long he had been gone until he returned to the camp to see the dwarves in a bit of a panic. There was more energy in the air than there had been when they first made it to Moria, but it was by no means a positive energy. Everything felt frantic and in disarray.

“Bilbo, there you are!” Fíli yelled.

“What do you mean?” Bilbo blinked. He realized that the sun was setting so he must have been gone longer than he thought. He lost track of the time while looking at the scenery, trying to take all of it in while he still could before he lost the light.

“We thought we’d lost you,” Kíli said. “you went off, but we got worried when you didn’t come back right away.”

“We thought we’d lost our burglar,” Dwalin said. “Come on, now, Bombur’s cooking up a good soup for all of us.”

“He’s been lost, ever since he left home,” Thorin grumbled.

***

Bilbo appreciated Bombur’s soup and felt a little more lively with the other dwarves, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t shake what Thorin said. That he was lost. That seemed to affirm the doubts he had about being on this quest in the first place.

The dwarves began to go to sleep as the fire burned out. With the flat tire replaced, they understood they would pick up and get back on the road at the first crack of dawn the next morning. As promised, Bofur took the first watch so he settled himself on one of the flattest rocks in the range and took watch a few yards away from the rest of the encampment. He was far enough away to have a good view of the landscape but still close enough to shout to the others if he spotted any danger.

Though he committed to taking the second watch, Balin did not look like he was quite ready to sleep yet. It was convenient for Bilbo, for whom sleep evaded as well.

“What’s on your mind, laddie?” Balin asked. Since they were the only ones awake they were bound to keep each other company until one of them fell asleep.

“You all heard Thorin,” Bilbo mused. “I don’t belong here. I should have never agreed to leave Bag End.”

“You shouldn’t take everything Thorin says to heart. He hasn’t told you why this quest is so important to him, has he?”

Bilbo shook his head. “It’s his family’s estate, so I suppose I understand where he’s coming from, but I don’t know any more than that.”

“I see. In that case, then, I’ll tell you all of it.”

Chapter Text

At first Bilbo didn’t know how to respond to Balin’s proposition. Of course he had been curious about Thorin and his life, since the dwarf was so private about his own feelings, but he was even more so curious about why no one was willing to talk about it either. But he wasn’t sure how to broach his questions or if he should have at all. It felt like a secret he wasn’t allowed to be part of.

Until now.

“Alright.” Bilbo blinked.

Balin didn’t skip a beat. “Thorin comes from the line of Durins. The Durins have always been a mining family, but the family business really started to pick up with Thrór, Thorin’s grandfather. He was the one who built the Erebor estate into what we know it as now. He established the estate where it was because it was right at the foot of the Lonely Mountain, a mountain that dwarves had not explored before. Long before we settled in the Lonely Mountain many of our kin mined in the mines of Moria, which you already saw. Over the years the dwarves migrated more to Erebor because it was the perfect opportunity and Thrór was rather lucky to strike it so rich with the business there. Dwalin, Óin, Glóin, and I are all descendants of the line of Durin so that’s how we know Thorin and got into this business. But many more dwarves flocked to Erebor when they saw how prosperous the business was, which only made it flourish even more.

“It was Thrór himself who found the Arkenstone in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. It’s a majestic jewel, the perfect representation of the success the Durins have seen in their endeavors.

“Life was normal for Thrór at that point, as it was for the subsequent generations. Thrór had a son, Thráin, and Thráin had three children, all of whom you already know. Thorin, Frerin, and Dís. Thorin’s mother died when he was young, but other than that it was a happy time for the family until Smaug came.

“Smaug was an infamous name in Middle-earth, but until this time he had only ever committed petty crimes. He gained his reputation because it was impossible for anyone to know where he would strike next. He’s always operated alone and that makes it easier for him to get around without anyone spotting him. The Arkenstone was a tempting target for Smaug because it also lay atop a large hoard of gold. Smaug somehow managed to get past the estate’s security system and into the house. Thrór and Thráin were not equipped to put up a fight against Smaug by the time any of them realized what was happening. Thorin made sure he got them out of the house. Thorin, barely of age himself at this point, took charge over his siblings. I wasn’t there, so I don’t know exactly what happened, but the three of them were separated from Thráin and Thrór.”

“And Thráin and Thrór,” Bilbo started. “What happened to them?”

“We don’t know what happened to them after they were separated from Thorin. By Thorin’s account, he never saw them again and we haven’t been able to find any bodies, so it’s like they just vanished. I suspect they had gotten into some sort of accident, for neither of them was in a sound state of mind as this was all unfolding and they were grieving the inevitable loss of their wealth, but we have no way of knowing that for sure because we have never found a wreckage of any sort. I don’t think they got very far, if I’m being honest. But it’s not like we can go looking around the estate for a wreckage, so we just don’t know for sure.

“The rest of us, the miners, were residing in Ered Luin on the other side of Middle-earth, far, far away from the destruction facing Erebor. It was fortunate for them that they could take refuge in Ered Luin with us, and we were of course happy to take them in for however long they needed to stay. But this was the opportune time of year for Smaug to strike against Erebor. It was the off-season for the miners, so most of us went back to our homes in Ered Luin. This meant that Erebor would be more vulnerable without so many dwarves to defend it. It was just the three generations of Durin. I still wonder why Smaug didn’t attack Thrór and Thráin that day. From Thorin’s account, they were delirious with the idea of losing everything they had worked for and they surely would have tried to put up a fight against Smaug. And Smaug is no pacifist either. He’s known to be violent.”

Balin paused, gathering his thoughts. Bilbo let him take his time. This was a lot to unload so he understood Balin would have to think hard through all of it.

“But what stuck with me the most, Bilbo, is that there was something rather kingly about the way Thorin handled the immediate urgency of the situation. He has always been a natural-born leader, but this confirmed that in my mind. He saved his siblings’ lives that day. After hearing of that experience I knew he is one I would follow, very much as if he were my king.”

Bilbo’s expression softened upon hearing the story. Hearing this perspective gave Bilbo some empathy for Thorin’s position.

“This is more than just ownership of the property to him,” Bilbo contemplated. “This is about his family.”

“Dís made sure Fíli and Kíli grew up hearing about how their uncle managed to pull through the danger of that situation and save his family as best as he could. Loyalty is everything to Thorin. He would do anything to protect the good of his family and even for the good of all the dwarves and their families under his grandfather’s employment. He thinks he has the best chance to take back Erebor and restore it to its former glory. He has been able to muster this company of dwarves to risk everything for this journey because of loyalty. We are all loyal to Thorin so he is loyal to us, too. He has done well by all of us so many of the dwarves think this is the best way to return the favor.”

“Why have they been so secretive about it, though?” Bilbo asked, trying not to think of what he was also keeping from them.

“It’s simple, really. Thorin doesn’t trust easily. Not after the way he watched his family lose everything so quickly. The others follow his suit out of respect, really. I don’t understand why they have to keep it so quiet from you—whether Thorin likes it or not, you’re as much a part of the Company as they all are—but Thorin isn’t quick to trust, so the Company isn’t quick to trust.

“You should get some sleep now. I’m going to need some sleep before Bofur will wake me up for the second watch.”

***

Bilbo awoke the following morning as Kíli stood over him, shaking him awake. It was still dark out, but the first glimpse of dawn broke across the horizon. This sunrise tinted the sky with a faint orange hue, paving the way for what was bound to be a clear day.

Most of the dwarves were already awake at this point. Fíli and Kíli appeared to have the task of rousing those were still asleep.

Bilbo rose to his feet. He didn’t sleep well, not with the weight of everything Balin told him gnawing away at him. Somehow the idea of sitting packed into the van all day only made him feel more exhausted. It would be no short drive the rest of the way down the Misty Mountains to the Gap of Rohan where they promised to meet Gandalf when they set off from Rivendell.

The drive of the previous day from Rivendell to Moria had been tolerable enough since they followed the road in a straight line down alongside the Misty Mountains. The road started to curve more as they moved farther south into the territory of Dunland. Bilbo caught a glimpse of the sign denoting the northern border into Dunland outside, but he didn’t know for sure how big it was because he never saw a sign saying they were ever leaving Dunland.

But they must have crossed the border out of the territory and towards the kingdom at Rohan at some point, for Thorin finally pulled the van off the main road and found a suitable spot to park.

“This should be where Gandalf said he’d meet us,” Dwalin said from the passenger’s seat, examining a map in his lap.

Everyone got out of the van and it didn’t take long for Bilbo to spot Gandalf. The gray wizard made his way toward the Company.

“I see you all made it in one piece,” Gandalf said. “That was the hard part of the drive. Driving north on this side of the mountains should be a lot easier.”

“We already had one flat tire on the way to Moria,” Thorin said.

“Well it’s a good thing the roads tend to be better-maintained on this side of the Misty Mountains, then, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is,” Fíli said, cracking a smile.

“It is already past midday so you shouldn’t plan to go much farther today. The sun will set before you know it and you will want to rest up as we approach the last stretch of the journey. I will follow you and stop where you think it’s best to make camp for the night. But don’t go too far north.”

Thorin nodded. “I will need to fill the gas tank first and then we will set off again. You all can stretch your legs while I fill up the tank. It’s going to be a few minutes.” He pulled a tank of gas out of the trunk of the van and moved to fill the van with the gas.

Bilbo kept to himself during this break in the journey, grateful for the quiet moment of stasis. Gandalf was busy talking with the other dwarves.

After a few minutes, the trunk slammed shut and Thorin beckoned everyone back to the van. Once everyone was back in the van and the engine started to rumble again, the journey continued from there.

***

Thorin drove the van north for a few hours before he grew weary. Gandalf had been right that they would need to find a suitable spot to camp for the night. Thorin parked the van on the outskirts of the first forest they encountered along the road north.

“This is Fangorn Forest,” Gandalf told Bilbo while the dwarves unpacked the supplies they would need to set up camp. The two of them were off to the side while the others were the ones setting up everything. Knowing Thorin it would be easier for him if they stayed out of the way and let the dwarves handle the manual labor.

“You say that as though there is a problem with that,” Bilbo said. “Is there a problem?”

“Not necessarily. The problem would be if you tried to go into the depths of the forest. You won’t know for sure what you’d find in there. It is nothing that should be of concern to you so long as you all stay on the outskirts of the forest right here.”

Through the rest of the day and all the way through sundown, all was well with the Company. It was not until they had eaten dinner and stoked a fire that something felt wrong.

It started off as a stirring among the trees. It was loud enough from a distance to make Bifur and Bofur both jump.

“What was that?” Thorin hummed, rising. His body language made it clear that he was going to scope out the scene by himself, which filled Bilbo with a sense of dread. Something was wrong. This was not like the troll attack, something sudden that caught them by complete surprise in the dead of night.

Walking toward the trees, Thorin pulled Orcrist from his belt. Thorin’s intent to scope out this threat alone was clear and all the dwarves seemed to accept that. But Bilbo did not accept it in such stride.

A large figure jumped out from the shadowy cover of the trees. It was large and its howling reminded Bilbo of a wolf, but it did not look at all like a wolf.

“A warg!” Thorin yelled to the others. Bilbo had never heard of a warg, but he could tell it was a foe rather than friend. Seeing the visual of the threat itself only filled Bilbo with a greater sense of urgency to intervene. He had been chosen as the fourteenth member of this Company, so it was about time he live up to that role. It would be reckless to let Thorin take this warg on alone.

Without another thought, Bilbo pulled his own sword out of its scabbard and dashed forward, approaching the warg at as speed it was too slow to anticipate. Bilbo didn’t weigh the consequences of what he was doing, just that the Company and especially Thorin were in danger and he had to protect them as best as he could.

He swung his sword at the warg three times as he ran to startle the beast. Only the third blow was close enough to land on the warg’s body. Up close the warg was enormous, making Bilbo feel smaller than ever. But the blow hit the warg hard enough to stun it, surprised that it had been hit at all. Thorin took the distraction as an opportunity to slice at the warg. This attack was enough for the warg to relent. It backed back into Fangorn, accepting its defeat at the hands of this dwarf and hobbit.

Bilbo looked up at Thorin and saw his eyes shining with an intensity Bilbo had never seen before. They maintained this transfixed eye contact, barely registering the other dwarves and Gandalf clamoring over to make sure they were both okay.

“We’re not injured,” Bilbo reassured the others, breaking his eye contact with Thorin and snapping back into reality. He had just attacked the massive beast with his sword as his only defense.

Gandalf heaved a sigh. He was still looking at Bilbo as the dwarves crowded Thorin to verify Bilbo’s word. Thorin, however, was still staring at Bilbo.

“Why did you do that?” Thorin asked, out of breath. “Are you mad? You could have gotten yourself killed!” Bilbo noticed he didn’t speak with the air of hostility Bilbo had come to expect from him. He sounded like he was concerned.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Bilbo started. “I’m the fourteenth member of this Company, so I feel it’s my duty to protect all of you. Look, Thorin, I know you doubt me and that you always have. But I know you have lost a lot in your life, and that’s why you’re on this quest. Meanwhile I have Bag End and yes, I do miss my books and my armchair dearly. That’s home to me. But you don’t have a home, so I want to help you take your home back if I can.”

Thorin paused. “When we first departed from the Shire, I expected you would give up and turn around at the first sign of any hardship. I thought you wouldn’t be up to the task and you wouldn’t care about seeing it to whatever end, no matter the price you would have to pay along the way. Never have I been so wrong.” Thorin moved away from the dwarves, toward Bilbo with open arms. He pulled Bilbo into a tight hug.

This caught Bilbo off guard. He hadn’t expected such a sharp change in Thorin’s demeanor, but he couldn’t deny this was a lot better than unfriendliness. He never realized the full extent of the height difference between him and Thorin until now. Here he was, his entire body enveloped in Thorin’s embrace. In a slow motion he wrapped his arms around Thorin to return the hug. Though the hug initially caught him off guard, he felt more reassured by the time Thorin pulled away.

Thorin looked over Bilbo’s body to make sure the hobbit had no visible injuries, even though he had been here to witness the skirmish up close and he could see that the warg never touched him or Bilbo.

“How did you manage to fight off the warg?” Thorin inquired. “I did not expect a hobbit of the Shire to wield a sword so well. It’s as if you’ve held a sword your whole life.”

Bilbo paused, holding his breath. He exhaled through his nose and then spoke, trying to keep his voice steady. “I have, actually. I’m an assassin.”

Chapter Text

There was a long pause once Bilbo spoke the words that he was afraid to confess to them. None of them knew what to say. Not that Bilbo knew how to go about it, either. But it was a matter of time until it came out. He was going to have to tell them about it sooner or later.

“An assassin?” Thorin repeated.

“Yes, and my mother was one as well,” Bilbo started to explain. All he could do at this moment was start with the easiest part of the story. “The Tooks are a line of assassins in service to the Thain of the Shire. The history of the Tooks is one of the few things the elves know about us hobbits.”

“I thought you said he was a burglar,” Bofur said to Gandalf. Bilbo knew that was what they were all thinking, even though most of them were not keen to say so the way Bofur was.

Thorin turned to Gandalf. “You knew all along. This is why you picked him for this quest. The fourteenth member of our company, your so-called burglar, was actually an assassin this whole time.”

Gandalf raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond.

“I suppose that’s why he wanted me to be your burglar,” Bilbo said, struggling over his words. He didn’t like that he felt so passive in this situation. This was about him, after all. “You always wanted someone to take back the Arkenstone, but I suppose Gandalf thought he could help you with more than just taking back the Arkenstone.”

“But why didn’t you tell us?” Dwalin asked.

Bilbo sighed. “Because I refused to be an assassin. My parents are dead because I was born to be an assassin. The Tooks all train to be assassins from a young age in defense of the Thain of the Shire, but the Shire is such a peaceful place that rarely have our services been in actual need. But I know that there is also some talk beyond the borders of the Shire of the Tooks because there have been some Tooks with enormous skill. Even Elrond himself was familiar with the name, even if only in relative passing.

“My mother started training me to be an assassin from the very first day I was old enough to hold a sword. She thought I was a fast learner, too, and that I had a lot of promise in the trade. I was never truly enjoyed it because I’m a Baggins at heart, and it was quite strange that a man as sensible as my father fell in love with a Took, but that was the way it all happened. And it ended up being a good match, too. Everything was well in my home through my tweens, but that changed right before I came of age.

“As I am sure you can imagine, assassin training is no small endeavor. When my father built our house for my mother he made sure there was an entire studio for her to train me in. It’s where we kept all the weapons, where they would be secluded away from the rest of the house. But then one day… I don’t remember exactly how it happened, nor do I care to remember the details, but one of my father’s books ended up in the studio by mistake. My father never felt like he quite fit into this world of weaponry, so he stayed out of it and left my mother to it. He knew what he was getting into when he married my mother, of course, and part of that was respecting the Took family tradition. My mother never expected him to change that for her. Except for that day, when he went looking for the one book that somehow ended up in the studio. Like I said, I don’t care to remember the details, so it’s just as well that I can’t remember if it was my mother or I that had left one of the swords out, but he tripped and…” Bilbo paused, letting his shoulders sink to release all the tension he had been holding in. “His death broke my mother. She succumbed to grief in only a few months. By that point I had just come of age. Here I was, a hobbit who just came of age, with no parents but a large house and inheritance to my name.” He hated remembering his parents this way, but there was no way he could avoid it.

“I decided I wanted nothing to do with being an assassin anymore because clearly it did me a whole lot of good, and who knew what else would come of it if I stuck to it for any longer. Hobbits typically give others presents on their birthday, so I waited until my next birthday and gave all of the weaponry in the house and everything else that reminded me at all of the assassin life to my Took relatives. I wanted no physical reminders of that in the house. I made the studio into a storage space so I wouldn’t have to go in there often. I’m still in the house because I feel like that’s one way I can honor my parents’ memory, but even that is painful to confront on the harder days.

“Bearing my father’s surname gave me a chance to blend into some anonymity. Hobbiton is a small-knit community, so many already knew me as Belladonna’s son, but those who didn’t only knew me as the son of a Baggins, which was enough for me. I settled into this new life and it went well until Gandalf showed up on my porch, ready to whisk me off on this adventure, reminding me that I still am, and always will be, a Took in blood.”

Moments of silence passed. Thorin was the only one who could find the words to speak up.

“You too have felt the weight of losing your family,” Thorin said. “Perhaps I was wrong once again. We are not so different after all.”

“I suppose not,” Bilbo said. Thorin was right. They were more like each other than either of them would have ever guessed. And Bilbo took comfort in knowing that.

***

The night was quiet after that. Bilbo was the only one who stayed awake through the night.

Thorin and Gandalf woke about an hour before sunrise but Bilbo did not join them in conversation. Though he did not like being in his own heads with his thoughts now, he did not want to talk anyone else about everything he divulged. He thought telling them of his family’s history might lift a heavy weight off his shoulders, but more than anything else he felt bogged down by the memory of it all. He hadn’t thought about all of it in years, so he found it all to be overwhelming. He had gotten by this long by forcing himself to push forward through it all and not dwell on the memory of how his parents met their untimely end.

But Thorin understood Bilbo’s pain. Thorin too lost so much all at once. Out of all in the Company he was the one who would understand best. Bilbo remembered how his demeanor changed as he told the dwarves his story. Something in Thorin’s expression had softened.

Bilbo tried to put himself in Thorin’s shoes. Bilbo saved him from the warg and now he was coming to find that they had a lot in common. They were never so different from each other after all.

The rest of the dwarves woke up along with the sun as the first light of day shone down onto the clearing.

“You will want to get an early start today,” Gandalf advised. “I know a place you can stay, but it is very far north and you will want to reach it before nightfall. If you don’t waste too much time on stops along the way you will be able to make it in good time.”

“What place?” Thorin questioned.

“There is a house a few miles west of the forest outside of Mirkwood’s borders. That forest takes you on a road straight towards the Lonely Mountain and you won’t have to cross into the estate of Mirkwood at all.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Thorin sneered. “I want nothing to do with Thranduil and those traitorous elves.”

Before Thorin gave any order, Dwalin had already started packing up their supplies in the van. Everyone was already prepared for the early departure. They needed no instruction this time.

“Master burglar, I want you to ride in the passenger’s seat with me today,” Thorin told Bilbo, handing him a map. “You can help me with the navigation.” Thorin smiled.

Bilbo released the tension in his shoulders and smiled back. It didn’t even cross his mind right away that Thorin still called him burglar. “Alright.”

***

The mid-morning sun blinded all of the dwarves as they drove past the estate of Lothlórien. It was that dreadful time of day where the sunlight bounced off every remotely shiny surface. Even with sunglasses on, Thorin was frustrated by the distraction.

“Why don’t you pull over?” Bilbo offered. “We can wait for the sun to rise a little higher so it won’t be shining right into your eyes while driving.” He wouldn’t admit it to Thorin, but he was a little unnerved at the prospect of Thorin driving while he was complaining about how the light was shining off the road signs into his eyes. He was already nervous enough about riding in the passenger’s seat, but he was lucky that he wasn’t feeling carsick today.

“No, no,” Thorin said. “You heard Gandalf. It would be a waste to pull over and wait for however long it’d take for the sun to reposition itself in the sky. We have a limited amount of daylight and still so much more ground left to cover.”

“Alright, but let’s hope you don’t run us off the road before then,” Bilbo laughed.

Thorin glared at Bilbo, smirking. “I’ll try not to.”

Come mid-afternoon, they made it into a more hilly range beyond the forests at the foot of the Misty Mountains.

At the top of the highest hill Bilbo spotted an enormous bear. The bear stood at this edge as if standing guard over the whole range. He did not know if the bear would attack them or ignore them. He might have stood a chance fighting the warg, but if the bear decided dwarves passing on the main road would be a threat to it then they would likely not stand a chance. This bear was so big that it could easily overpower all of them.

Thorin didn’t seem to notice the bear and so he kept driving up the road, scanning the road ahead for any sign of Gandalf. He eventually spotted the gray wizard beckoning to them far off the road, and so Thorin pulled over to where he stood.

“Leave the van here,” Gandalf said. “We will have to continue from here on foot.” He pointed to a small cottage at the other side of the clearing. “That is our destination.”

Chapter Text

“Who is this guy, anyway?” Thorin asked, trailing after Gandalf. Gandalf was far ahead of everyone else, taking wide strides in a manner that Bilbo thought was very eager, although nothing felt eager about where they were going.

Bilbo kept on walking through the clearing, but he wondered when it was going to end. The expanse unfolding in front of him felt endless no matter how many steps forward he took. The sun was beating down on all of them and they were not close to any of the trees, where they could take shelter and compose themselves for a brief moment. They were simply going to keep walking through the clearing until they made it to the house.

“His name is Beorn,” Gandalf explained. “He’s a skin-changer. He might be willing to let us stay with him for the time being, while we’re on our way continuing east.”

“What do you mean, he might let us stay?” Bilbo chimed in, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t like the sound of entering someone’s home when he wouldn’t be a welcome guest. The Baggins in him was showing; an instinct in him at that moment tugged at him, urging him to turn around, for stirring this pot would not be worthwhile. Would it?

“Sometimes he takes the form of a bear and sometimes he’s a big, strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. Either way, he’ll let us stay or he’ll kill us.”

“It’s not like we have any other choice,” Bilbo remarked dryly. He supposed that explained the bear he saw overlooking the hillside, though. That had to be Beorn and the bear must have been a guardian of the area, just as he had guessed. But he would have never guessed that the bear would be his host for the night.

“I don’t want to take too long to get to Erebor now,” Thorin put in, “now that we are so close to the end.”

Bilbo knew Thorin was right; they were so close to the end of their journey. Thorin would have his home back and Bilbo would be able to go back to his old life. At least, that was what he hoped would happen, rather than a more destructive alternative. He remembered Gandalf warning him that he would not come back the same hobbit he was when he first left the Shire. Maybe he had known it was because he was going to have to serve as assassin for the Company to take care of Smaug. He didn’t like the idea, but if using the skills he had learned from his mother meant that he would be able to return to his quiet life sooner, it would be what he’d do. He didn’t understand there to be another alternative to the situation.

As they got closer, the more Bilbo noticed that this house was little more than a quaint cottage. This Beorn character must have lived a quaint, independent life if he was willing to live out in essentially the middle of nowhere. Bilbo could understand why that seemed like a desirable alternative to the otherwise overwhelming, quick pace of the average modern life. Sometimes it felt like too much. It made Bilbo grateful that he had the quiet life he set up for himself at Bag End to fall back on in the hardest of times.

As they approached the house, Bilbo realized that he did not know what to expect of this Beorn character. Gandalf remained vague in his description of the man.

When they finally made it to the front gate to Beorn’s cottage, Bilbo felt a small pang inside him telling him to turn around and go back. He wasn’t sure why there was hesitation in his approach at the last minute, but he knew there was no way anyone else would hear him out in this situation, so he had no choice but to accept whatever fate awaited him on the other side of that front door.

Gandalf led the way through the small front yard from the gate to Beorn’s front door. Though small, it was a lavish garden that captivated Bilbo and forced aside his concerns about being here in the first place. There was something so comforting, so familiar about these surroundings to him.

Gandalf tapped the door with his walking stick. The sound of the knock boomed throughout the garden. It bounced off the leaves and echoed in Bilbo’s ears.

A moment passed—and it was a moment where Bilbo once again doubted why they were here in the first place, for it was a moment long enough for that thought to slip back into his consciousness—and then the door slid open. It slid open in a slow, cautious movement as if whoever was on the other side was anticipating an unwelcome guest. It made Bilbo uneasy; he felt like he wasn’t supposed to be here.

On the other side of the threshold stood a tall man, almost as tall as Gandalf, with gray hair thin on his head and thick in his beard. He looked over Gandalf, inspecting him to make sure he was someone familiar and trustworthy. “Gandalf,” he mumbled in a low, hoarse voice. Then his eyes moved towards the rest of the company. His gaze did not linger for long on Bilbo as he scanned every other person standing with Gandalf in his garden. “Dwarves, I see?” He guessed.

Gandalf nodded. “They are with me, Beorn. We seek temporary refuge here on our journey to oust Smaug from Erebor.”

Beorn took a few moments to contemplate Gandalf’s words. It was a few seconds too long for Thorin, apparently, for he decided to interject of his own accord. “He took the estate that rightfully belonged to my family. It was not his to take, so it’s about time we reclaimed it for ourselves.”

Beorn paused, as if considering Thorin’s appeal. Bilbo understood Thorin’s intentions in his actions, but he couldn’t help but think he was going a bit too far in defending his own honor. Beorn had not gone out of his way to threaten Thorin or anything of the sort, so there was no point in standing up for himself in the face of no danger. Bilbo thought he would benefit from learning how to bite his tongue some of the time. He was sure that his tongue would get him into trouble, but he hoped that this would not be one such instance.

Beorn maintained silence for a few moments longer, drawing out the tension.Bilbo felt himself tensing up in anticipation of what he could possibly say. Then he spoke up.

“Why should I trust you? Why should I trust that you won’t merely turn against me at your earliest convenience?”

Bilbo thought that would be all Beorn had to say, but what Bilbo thought would be a terse rejection of Gandalf’s offer turned into a longer tirade.

After a couple of sentences, Bilbo started to tune Beorn out. It wasn’t anything about the way Beorn spoke; in fact, Bilbo thought Beorn seemed like a rather reasonable man by his standards. He was just a man who was content to be left alone in his house out here, and Bilbo could understand that.

But that didn’t grab Bilbo’s focus the way Beorn’s garden did. Bilbo found his eyes wandering away from the front door and toward the garden. Though it was small in size, it was lush in its greenery and looked to be thriving with life. Everyone else was fixated on Beorn, but Bilbo took a step to the side away from the group. It wouldn’t hurt anyone if he took a closer look at the garden. The plants were more impressive looking at them a little closer. Hues of green melded together and shimmered under the little sunlight that trickled in on this partly cloudy day. It was a peaceful moment, one that reminded Bilbo of the simpler things in life. It was the little moments like this that brought him comfort. It was especially welcoming in the midst of all the confusing feelings he had been drowning under for the last couple days.

Then something under the leaves caught Bilbo’s eye. He only got a glimpse from just looking, but he could see something brown sticking out under the leaves. It was a lighter brown than the dirt that surrounded it. Bilbo got down onto his knees and gently pushed the leaves apart so he could get a closer look. It was an acorn. The beginning of a new life. It reminded him that he was only in the middle of his journey and that it was not the end. There would be a new chapter to begin when this one came to a close. It was the revitalizing sign of renewal that he needed in this confusing, uncertain moment. But it certainly wasn’t going to grow sitting on top of the ground, rather than buried in the soil. If Beorn had meant to put it there, surely he would have planted it. Bilbo picked it up and tucked it into his pocket. It would be safe there for now.

He spun back around to see that the others had still not finished their exchange with Beorn. It had only been a minute. He slid back into the spot where he originally stood. It seemed that only Gandalf had noticed he moved at all, but Gandalf noticed everything and he wasn’t bound to say anything unless he thought it important to do so.

Finally, Beorn said, “I don’t trust you all, but I dislike Smaug more. Come in.”

***

Beorn proclaiming that he hated Smaug more than he disliked dwarves was about as warm of a welcome as Bilbo supposed they were going to get. It was something that became more apparent as the day wore on. Beorn was willing to let them all settle into his abode, but he was never a particularly amicable host to them.

Thorin insisted on spending most of the afternoon hunched over the map he had been carrying with him this entire journey. He was fixated now more than ever on the actual inner workings of how they were going to get into the estate, past Smaug, and to get the Arkenstone back. Up until now he had been unwilling to divulge too many details of how exactly he intended to get into the estate and go through the entire process of reclaiming the Arkenstone, but apparently Bilbo wasn’t the only one who had been in the dark about the details. As Thorin spoke, Bilbo noticed that most of the Company looked as intrigued by the details as he did. Had Thorin been that hesitant to share his plans with anyone?

Bilbo preferred to stay to the side of this discussion, rather than take center stage in the conversation. He wasn’t ready to think too much about what lay ahead for them on this journey and he was thankful that Thorin didn’t push him to the front of this discussion.

As the afternoon stretched on, Bilbo felt more and more engaged in the discussion. He felt absorbed by Thorin’s words. There was something so captivating about listening to him speak so passionately on the subject. Bilbo already knew that this issue was very near and dear to his heart, but it was something else to hear the tremor in his voice.

After a while, Thorin managed to wrangle Bilbo into the discussion.

“Come here, burglar,” Thorin said. Bilbo moved closer to Thorin, joining him on the same sofa where he sat. He looked at the map Thorin had laid out on the coffee table.

But Bilbo wasn’t thinking about Erebor. He let the memories of Rivendell take hold in his mind, recalling how Elrond had heard the rumors about his family—the Tooks specifically, that was—being assassins and how he believed Bilbo stood a chance against Smaug. It made sense, what with the training Bilbo had undergone as a chid. He didn’t like to use those skills, but it had been clear in this quest that he still retained the muscle memory that came with the training. After all, it was he who defended Thorin against the beast in the forest when his life was nearly threatened.

“Look at this,” Thorin said, pointing out one of the maps specifically. Bilbo couldn’t figure out what the map was supposed to show until Thorin began to explain it.

“This is the basement underneath the estate,” Thorin explained. “It’s unlikely Smaug made his settlement down here. The upstairs portion of the estate is where all the extravagant displays of wealth are. That’s what he was really after.

“But the challenge rests in the fact that the Arkenstone is in the upstairs portion of the house, too. There is one way we will be able to get into the house without alerting Smaug to our presence. My grandfather was paranoid and set up a secret entrance into the house. When he first showed it to me I thought he was being overly paranoid, but now I’m glad he installed that system. It works in our favor now.”

***

Thorin spent the afternoon focused on thinking about what they were going to do next. The only thing that drove him away from this focus was Beorn announcing that he had prepared dinner for all of his guests. That enticed Bilbo a lot more than the prospect of making it all the way to Erebor.

The meal was a pleasant enough affair. Bilbo thought Beorn was a good cook, but he was rather quiet and brooding so Bilbo thought it better to keep his compliments to himself. Beorn didn’t seem like he wanted to hear more from any of them and had accepted them with open arms because of his disdain for Smaug and not so much out of the goodness of his own heart.

“You’ll wanna get some sleep early tonight, laddie,” Balin said after the meal, patting Bilbo on the shoulder. “It’ll be a long, exhausting day tomorrow. Walking the rest of the way to Erebor won’t be an easy feat.”

Bilbo furrowed his brow. “Wait, we aren’t taking the van with us?” He racked his brain trying to remember when this had been established in their plan, but there was no way Thorin had mentioned it during the afternoon without Bilbo catching it.

“Weren’t you paying attention to Beorn earlier? You know, when we were out on his porch pleading with him to let us stay? He’ll let us stay one night and he’s been kind enough to let us keep the van here while we make the rest of the way to Erebor on foot, but if we were to try and stay any longer then we’d have to take the van with us, and Gandalf said there’s no way we’d be able to manage that.”

Bilbo was sure he missed all of that, while he was distracted admiring Beorn’s garden, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone about that.

***

Bilbo struggled to fall asleep that night. It was like the stress of the previous days had washed over his mind, but it also left the path open and clear for a new thought to burst in and take domineering control of everything. And that realization was slowly but surely beginning to dawn on him and he couldn’t escape. It covered every crevice of his mind.

He was falling for Thorin and there was no way he would be able to deny it any longer. He couldn’t deny the way that he looked at Thorin and the way his eyes lit up when he heard Thorin talk so passionately about wanting to take the estate back. It was so mesmerizing. It comforted Bilbo to know that Thorin was a caring man deep down, now that he had finally managed to see past the much-harder exterior that he put on to the world.

Bilbo didn’t know what to make of these feelings. There was no denying that he was falling for Thorin and that was enough to make him stop dead in his tracks. At the core, it felt right, but he couldn’t help but think about how these feelings fit into the bigger picture. Thorin was a man trying to get his old life back for the greater good of his family. Bilbo didn’t have his family anymore. He was a man living by himself, trying to forget the worst of the feelings surrounding his loss for the sake of being able to push forward through the rest of his life. Two very different life trajectories, and there was no way he would be able to fit Thorin into his life. It wasn’t going to work. These feelings wouldn’t take him anywhere, but that didn’t change the fact that he felt feelings towards Thorin. He still wondered what it would be like to be by Thorin’s side.

There was no resolve to his thoughts, but instead he meandered around in circles in his mind over and over again. The thoughts chased him around until he drifted off into sleep and, by some stroke of luck, the thoughts did not follow him into his dreams.

***

“Where do we go from here?” Bilbo asked the following morning. No one had bothered to unpack their belongings the day before, so their departure came soon after breakfast with Beorn. Beorn had been generous enough to extend his hospitality into the following morning, but none of them wanted to push the boundaries of the agreement they had already made with him. They would be gone in the morning, just like they promised.

Thorin, as per usual at this point, wanted to get going as soon as possible in the morning. Everyone else, having already adapted to Thorin’s behavior, anticipated that and prepared accordingly. On this morning, however, Gandalf seemed a bit rushed too. Bilbo had gotten used to this rush from Thorin, but to get it from Gandalf too planted an uneasy feeling in his gut. Was something wrong?

“As you can see, we’re on the outskirts of a vast forest,” Gandalf said, “and Erebor is on the other side of the forest. You won’t be able to see it from here, but on the other side of the forest stands the Lonely Mountain, the one tall mountain signifying the location of the estate.”

“The mountain is where the mine is,” Dwalin explained. “The estate is right at the foot of the mountain.” That made sense to Bilbo: it seemed to be the perfect spot for the burgeoning new mine when Thrór first started the business.

So all that’s left is go through this forest, then, Bilbo thought. Yes, that sounds like it will add up to a recipe for disaster somehow. This feels too easy, but maybe the worst is in fact behind us already.

“Our next part of the journey is to go through the forest, which will be no easy feat,” Gandalf said.

There it is.

As the Company walked, Bombur strayed from the line and a little too far to Gandalf’s right. “Stay closer to me!” He hissed, glaring at Bombur out of the corner of his eye. Everyone took one step to the left—it was not just Bombur who had jumped at the sudden ferocity in Gandalf’s tone. “We don’t want to stray too far to the right. To the right is Thranduil’s property and I’m sure you all know we wouldn’t want to risk being caught trespassing, even if by accident.”

Thorin let out a low sigh. It sounded like he had been holding his breath this entire conversation. Bilbo could tell that the name Thranduil filled him with some sort of frustration, some sort of deep-set rage. But why?

Bilbo opened his mouth as if he were about to ask aloud who Thranduil was, but no words came out. Instead, Thorin chimed in.

“We don’t need any more trouble with that traitor,” Thorin growled. “He already turned his back on my family once. The Mirkwood estate is right on Erebor’s backdoor, and yet he refused to help us when we fled Smaug’s attack through the forest. He had the audacity to threaten us if we even thought to set foot on his property again. It was just my siblings and I. We were hardly adults, but he spared us no mercy. We didn’t fully understand, especially not my dear younger brother and sister. He doesn’t care for anyone but himself.”

He was two paces ahead of Bilbo and kept his back turned the entire time he spoke, but Bilbo watched as he stood a little straighter by the time he ended his story. It was like a weight being lifted off his shoulders, and Bilbo felt a little better having heard it. He couldn’t begin to imagine what weight Thorin must have been carrying. How tempting it would be to take some of the weight off for him, to be able to ease his burden…

“Which is exactly why we’re not going that way,” Balin added, making Bilbo jump. He was so caught up in his thoughts about Thorin that he had forgotten that was walking beside the older man. “So what is this forest like, anyway, Gandalf?” To Bilbo, he added, “We have our own ways of traveling between Erebor and Ered Luin. We normally fly with the jets made with some of the metals we and our kin mine, so we don’t travel across the land.”

“Well, it’s simple, really. You just have to stick to the path. Stick to the path and you won’t have any problems and you’ll be able to reach the other side. But only as long as you stick to the path. If you stray off the path then you’ll never be able to find it again and you’ll be completely lost. It’s the only way in and out of that forest.”

No one spoke again after that. They made their way across the clearing. The tall trees in the distance grew larger and larger as they entered the foreground of Bilbo’s line of vision.

Then out of nowhere Gandalf stopped in his tracks and, without thinking, everyone else stopped along with him.

“What is it?” Thorin asked, looking up at the taller man.

“Unfortunately this is where I must leave you all for now,” Gandalf replied, his eyes stoic but not fixed on anyone in particular. “This morning, I received word of an emergency from a friend, so I must attend to them today. I am only able to walk with you this far and at this point our paths will have to split.”

“Will you be coming back, though?” Bilbo asked. Heat filled his face. He didn’t fully understand what was going on, but he didn’t like the sound of it.

“I will meet with you on the other side of the forest as soon as I am able and make sure you don’t go into the house without me,” was all Gandalf said. Everyone burst out into chatter with a flood of questions after that, following Bilbo’s lead, but Gandalf didn’t answer any of them. He waved them farewell and turned around the clearing and began to walk away.

The last thing any of them heard was his stern reminder: “Stay on the path.”

Chapter Text

Everyone was dumbfounded by the abruptness of Gandalf’s departure. He gave no warning in advance that something came up and that he would have to leave. He just up and left.

It didn’t ease Bilbo’s nerves about going into the forest at all. He was already nervous enough, not knowing what to expect in the forest, but knowing he was going to be on his own with all the dwarves didn’t make him feel any more comfortable. At least with Gandalf they would have a wizard on their side.

That seemed to explain why he had been in such a rush for them all to leave Beorn’s cottage that morning, but even harboring this information, the whole situation didn’t sit right with Bilbo. What kind of “sudden emergency” warranted leaving them at this crucial moment in the quest? After all, he said that the trek through this forest would not be easy. His advice to stay on the path seemed straight-forward enough at face value, but knowing Gandalf, there was some layer of trickery hidden in such a simple instruction and Bilbo did not like the idea of getting lost in the expansive forest that lie ahead. Gandalf said if they got lost they would not be able to get out, but even if they could, how long would it take them to find any way out?

In that moment Bilbo thought it best to take the lead. Who else was going to take charge? Thorin was the de facto leader of the group, but he seemed focused on something else. But, not wanting to take away from Thorin’s focus, Bilbo followed his eyes and realized that Thorin was looking straight into the eyes of an elf who had just appeared out of the section of the forest to the right, from Thranduil’s property. He had long light hair and if his eyes were a fire they would be ablaze across everything in sight. This must be the Thranduil that Thorin so deeply detested.

“What are you doing here?” Thorin growled. “Shouldn’t you be in your mansion admiring your jewels, or whatever it is you do?” Then, in a much quieter voice, he mumbled something in Khuzdul. Bilbo didn’t understand what he said, but whatever it meant, it had to be harsh. Thorin wasn’t one to mince words.

“No, I cannot,” Thranduil said, “because your family has claimed ownership over the jewels my family so covets from the mines, so we do not have anything to admire. I’m here because I thought I heard footsteps on my property.”

“We aren’t on your property. Don’t you think I would remember where your property line ends, after you threatened to hunt my siblings down if we set foot on your property ever again?” He took a few steps forward and then stopped, pointing to the ground. “This is where your property ends. And, as you can see, I’m not on your property so you can’t do anything to me in the name of trespassing.”

Thranduil ignored him. His eyes moved past Thorin and scanned the rest of the Company. “You do not travel alone.”

“Impressive, he seems to be quite aware of his surroundings,” Bofur whispered behind Bilbo, quiet enough that only those around him could hear.

“Do you think you can take back the Lonely Mountain and your family’s estate from Smaug? Surely you realize that Smaug is too cunning to see through any plans to oust him. That’s how he has made it this far as a thief. That’s why nobody has been able to stop him.”

“That is none of your business,” Thorin said, raising his voice as his temper flared more.

“I suppose I should stand aside now, so I can let you go off to your inevitable doom down that path.” He turned away and disappeared back into the thick forest, leaving Thorin red in the face with fury.

He turned back to the Company and began to shout more in the language that Bilbo didn’t understand. Though he couldn’t decipher a word of it, he could tell whatever Thorin said including a lot of cursing and some unkind words towards Thranduil. After seeing Thranduil’s calm but rude demeanor, Bilbo couldn’t blame him for the resentment Thorin harbored against him.

“We need to keep moving,” Balin implored. “We won’t want to stay in the forest too long. We should try to get out to the other side before nightfall. That forest doesn’t look welcoming during the day, so it will only be worse during the night.”

Thorin grumbled, but went along with Balin’s suggestion. “We need to keep moving,” Thorin repeated the instructions in a louder voice so everyone could hear.

As he started to move forward everyone followed. They walked at the same steady pace until they made it to the edge of the forest. Then they stopped, hesitation creeping in. None of them knew what to expect and that fear started to hold them back a little bit. This was one part of Middle-earth none of them were familiar with.

This forest looks sick, Bilbo thought. Not exactly the most welcoming sight you want to first see.

Bilbo, thinking about how important this quest was to Thorin, decided to take the first brave step forward. This was not the time to let doubt creep in. They were so close to Erebor. All that was stopping them between this point and the estate was this forest and they were going to conquer it one way or another.

Thorin moved to join Bilbo in entering the forest. Out of the corner of his eye Bilbo thought he saw Thorin crack a small smile at him. Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat at that sight and he beamed as they entered the forest.

The forest was dark as night. If they hadn’t just woken up a couple hours earlier, Bilbo might have actually believed that it was nighttime already. When they walked in they were already on the path, much to Bilbo’s relief. He knew he wasn’t going to get Gandalf’s words of warning out of his head anytime soon. Stick to the path.

And stuck to the path they did. It was a long trek across this seemingly never-ending forest, along this faint path outlined in the dirt. It was a small line of cobblestones, wider than one person’s width, but not wide enough for two people to fit across. The exception was for Bombur, who was large enough that he took up most of the path’s width on his own. They stuck to the single-file line down the path, heeding Gandalf’s advice every step of the way.

Bilbo didn’t know exactly where they lost track of the path along the way, but they somehow managed to do it.

“Where’s the path?” Dwalin had asked as he looked over Thorin’s shoulder. Bilbo was a bit further back, and being a head shorter than Dwalin, knew he wasn’t going to be able to see it for himself, but he had no doubt they were lost.

“We need to keep going, and find the path,” Thorin said. He had been at the front of the line this entire time, and this entire time he kept a steady eye on the steps in front of them, making sure they were made of the same stony pattern and did not fade into the dirt. But not even that caution was enough to save them in the end, it turned out.

“We need to accept it,” Dori said after what felt like at least several minutes of circling. “We lost the path. We’re lost.”

“We can’t be lost!” Fíli cried out.

“Don’t you get it?” Bilbo grumbled, looking around at the others to gauge how everyone else felt about the situation. “We’re going around in circles.”

“Fíli’s right,” Thorin echoed. “If we’re lost then we aren’t going to be able to get out, are we?”

“You remember what Gandalf said,” Bofur answered. “If we lose the path, then we’re going to be lost in the forest and there won’t be any way for us to get out.”

“We should try splitting up,” Kíli suggested, “and surely at least one of us will be able to find the path again. We can holler when one of us finds the path.”

Thorin seemed desperate enough for any suggestion that he was willing to go along with Kíli’s proposition. Bilbo, on the other hand, thought it was completely absurd. Even if someone could find the path again, how would they be able to guarantee they wouldn’t lose each other along the way? But it wasn’t his decision to make, and Thorin had the final say. Though his tone made clear his begrudging attitude towards the proposition, Thorin declared they would split up.

They divided into two groups. Thorin, Bilbo, Bofur, Fíli, Bombur, Dwalin, and Glóin continued moving in the same direction they were already going in. Meanwhile, Kíli, Bifur, Ori, Nori, Dori, Balin, and Óin went in the opposite direction.

For as far as Bilbo could see, there was nothing different laying ahead in their path. It was more and more of the same trees, the same rocks, and the same landscape. It looked as though the forest was never-ending in their direction. Bilbo assumed that it would be more of the same in the opposite direction. He remembered looking at the forest from the outside; it was expansive in all directions and who knew how they would be able to find a way out without being able to find the path again.

This went on for several minutes before Dwalin threw his hands into the air out of frustration.

“We really are lost!” He moaned.

“We need to keep moving,” Thorin hissed.

“You have to admit, though, this isn’t a good idea,” Dwalin said. “We’d be best if we stuck together.”

But they had no choice but to keep moving, so that was what they did. After several minutes they somehow managed to travel in a circle, for they bumped into the other half of their company.

“How did we end up here?” Fíli asked. “You all went the other way!”

“We’re lost, and we’ve been lost for quite some time,” Balin said, “and there’s certainly no denying it now.”

“What are we going to do now?” Kíli asked. On instinct, everyone turned to Thorin.

“Why don’t we try to figure out where we are first?” Balin said.

“How exactly are we going to do that?” Thorin retorted. “Do you think we’re going to launch our burglar into the sky, up past the trees to see what direction we’re going in?”

That was exactly what they ended up doing.

It wasn’t by Bilbo’s choice. He wasn’t fond of heights and he especially wasn’t fond of the idea of climbing up these tall trees to see over the top of them.

But it wasn’t like they were going to give Bilbo a say in the matter, because what other choice did they have?

Once Bilbo climbed to the top and stuck his head out from the leaves, his first instinct was to take in a deep breath of the fresh air. At this height it was crisp and refreshing, so much more comforting than the stuffier air in the confines of the forest. He looked beyond the tops of the trees to figure out how far away from the other side they were. To his surprise, it was not as far away as he thought it would be. He glanced behind him; they had made a decent amount of progress from the other side. If he had to hazard a guess, he would have assumed that they were at about the halfway point.

“I can see the mountain!” He yelled. “We’re almost there!”

Bilbo enjoyed one serene, but brief moment at the top of these trees, admiring the skyline, before the world came tumbling down and Bilbo was falling back down to the ground below. He landed on top of a pile of leaves. It was a softer landing than landing directly on the ground would have been, but partially-crunched leaves dug into his skin through his clothes and that feeling was bugging him.

Reorienting himself, he stood back up and saw the dwarves all around trying to figure out where they were based on Bilbo’s account. Bilbo was impressed that they were able to hear him yelling from all the way above the trees. He was a far way up and he didn’t know if his voice would travel down.

“We need to keep moving,” Thorin said once he saw Bilbo back on the ground with them, and so they continued to move forward as a group.

Then Bilbo swore he heard a rustling sound coming from the trees nearby, making him jump. They had not encountered any wildlife up until this point, so he raised his guard. No one else seemed to notice, but something did not feel right and Bilbo was apprehensive.

The noise seemed to subside after they took a few more steps. If Bilbo were one to let his guard down, he would have thought he imagined the noise. But he didn’t let his guard down and he spotted something stir in his line of vision. It was hard to make out from the distance, but the spot multiplied and moved closer and Bilbo got a good, clear look of what it was: a bunch of spiders closing in.

A bunch of spiders is just what we needed, Bilbo thought dryly as he wondered how they were going to get out of this.

But he didn’t think of a solution fast enough, for the spiders moved in and the world went black.

***

When Bilbo opened his eyes, he realized that he was far above the ground. The spiders had woven everyone into their own individual cocoons, Bilbo included. He didn’t have to think about what would come next.

Bilbo could not move his limbs under the restrictions of the web, but he still retained his ability to see, even through the web that covered his face. He remained still for a moment to observe the spiders moving around the web, but when they turned away from him he began to fidget. He realized that he could move around a little bit in the web. It was only just for a little bit, but he was determined to use this newfound knowledge to his advantage to get them all out of this situation. He inched his hand towards the scabbard on his waist. In capturing everyone it seemed that the spiders did not think to remove their weaponry. A certain weakness that would come back to pay the price.

Bilbo slipped the sword out of the scabbard. He moved only in careful motions as he sliced his way out of the web, making sure he wouldn’t alert the spiders to the fact that he managed to escape. As he cut himself free, he assessed the situation. The rest of the Company were spread out across the web, so there was no way Bilbo was going to be able to cut all thirteen of them free without making enough noise from jerky motions—after all the web wasn’t easy to move in, and he wasn’t as familiar with it as the spiders, putting him at a distinct disadvantage—that would alert the spiders to the fact that he cut himself loose from the web they wrapped him in. The only way out of this would be cutting away at the web that held them all up among the trees. He looked down. It was a long way to the ground, but it was a risk he would have to take if any of them would be able to get out of the situation.

He rolled onto his side slowly. Time was of the essence, but it was not his top priority. Making sure he wouldn’t be heard by the other spiders was a more urgent matter. With his right arm extended, he began to slice away t the web around him. As long as he covered as much surface area as he could in his immediate range, he would be able to destabilize the very foundation of the web.

His careful calculations worked. After a few seconds of dicing and slicing the web, it eventually fell apart and succumbed to gravity, bringing down all of the thirteen cocoons and the spiders with it. Bilbo was lucky that the ground below turned out to be a softer landing than he had expected.

Then the spiders began to attack Bilbo, but he was ready with his sword still in hand. He plunged the sword into the first one lunging itself at him.

“It stings!” The spider screamed. “It stings!” It fell into a crumpled pile on the ground. Bilbo waited until he was sure the spider was dead before pulling his sword out.

That was enough to scare the other spider off in the other direction, not wanting to suffer the same fate. Bilbo did not let his guard down for at least five seconds, just in case it turned back around or another set of spiders showed up. Once he thought the coast was clear, he let out a sigh.

“Sting,” he muttered to himself, recalling how Balin told him about the naming of swords. “That’s quite a nice name. Yeah, Sting it is.” With a moment of assured safety, he looked over the sword, admiring the craftsmanship that went into its making. Then his mind turned to Thorin, and how Thorin also possessed a sword of Elvish make found in the troll caves, another thing they had in common.

Lowering the sword, he stood still to brush the leaves off his shoulders as he contemplated what was next. He didn’t put the sword back in its scabbard. He wasn’t going to let his guard down until they were out of the forest. He didn’t know how they were going to be able to get out, but that was the next worry he would focus on after they dealt with the spiders.

Apparently the fall from the high-up web had been enough to restore consciousness to the dwarves. Bilbo watched as they all began to struggle their way out of their webbed traps. He was relieved to see all of them recuperating with no apparent injuries from the web besides the initial drowsiness of being back on their feet. Most of all he was relieved to see Thorin get back up and wipe away the last of the web stuck to his sleeves. Thorin was tough so no doubt he would survive this, but Bilbo still felt reassured in the comfort of knowing the dwarf’s safety.

“What just happened?” Ori asked, looking around at the others for guidance.

Nobody had the chance to answer his question, though, for this moment of recovery was short-lived. The rustling sound from earlier came back, but this time Bilbo knew what it was. More spiders were coming.

“Run!” Bilbo commanded to the others.

They ran and the sound of scuttling legs trailed behind them. It sounded like the spiders were moving slowly, for the sound of movement sounded faint, though consistent. Bilbo thought maybe they would have a chance of getting away. He didn’t know how they would be able to, not without the path in their line of sight, but there had to be a way somehow.

They ran and ran, not thinking about where they were going. In this moment, their immediate survival mattered more. They kept running until they heard Kíli’s scream.

Bilbo stopped in his tracks and spun around on his heel, his hands tightening his grip on Sting. He held the sword up and scanned the vicinity to comprehend what was going on before he jumped into the action.

One of the spiders must have jabbed at Kíli, for he now lay on his side on the ground, clutching his right leg. The rest of the Company had the same idea as Bilbo to draw their swords, for now the remaining twelve had launched themselves at the spiders, engaging in such a strong attack that they were successfully turning the spiders away.

With the spiders taken care of, Bilbo ran to Kíli’s side, Sting still secure in his hand.

“What’s the matter?” Bilbo asked him, scanning his body for any external injuries. “What happened?”

“One of the spiders nearly stabbed me through the side. I managed to just get away because I kept running, but I ended up tripping and landing on my ankle.” Bilbo then noticed that Kíli was sitting on top of an enormous root sticking out of the ground. It stuck out high enough that Bilbo could imagine it would be easy to trip over, especially considering Kíli had been running for his life, not caring too much about such little details like a root sticking out of the ground. The fall would have been enough to sprain his ankle.

Bilbo looked up and saw Fíli running to his brother’s side.

“What happened?” He yelled, his tone a bit frantic, in a protective, brotherly sort of way.

“I’m pretty sure he sprained his ankle,” Bilbo said, trying to keep his tone level.

“We have to get him out of the forest. How are we going to get out?”

“I think I know how,” Thorin said as he crept up behind his nephew. He pointed to a spot behind Bilbo. Bilbo turned and realized that it was a bit of the path peeking out from underneath the leaves. How was it possible? Was it merely a hallucination? But how could it be a figment of his imagination if Thorin saw it too?

“Come on, then,” Bilbo said. He moved to join Fíli at Kíli’s side. The two of them helped Kíli to his feet and, with one man on either side of him, they began to walk with him to the path. Bilbo looked over his shoulder and saw the rest of the Company following behind them. Thorin must have noticed the path earlier and pointed it out to the others already.

Sure enough, by some stroke of luck, they managed to find the actual path again. The path was not wide enough for Bilbo, Fíli and Kíli to all walk alongside each other, but they had no choice. They all walked in a line together, with Fíli and Bilbo staying off the path; Kíli needed the level ground the path provided the most out of the three of them. Somehow they were able to keep track of where they were, even without walking directly along the path. It was no doubt because they were holding onto Kíli, who made sure to stay on the path. Bilbo wasn’t sure what kind of magic made it so this would happen, but he was grateful for it. They had already been through enough.

The path stretched on for several minutes longer and then finally a glimpse of the outside sky crept in between the branches of the trees, lighting the last stretch of the path to the end of the forest.

When they reached the end of the path, Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief, grateful to once again be in the outside world, with the sun shining on his face. It was nearing sundown now, but the sun stood a little ways above the horizon. Who knew how much daytime light would be left, but it was certain to not be a lot more. They had a few hours left until it got dark if they were lucky.

“We need to find somewhere to settle for the night,” Thorin commanded to the others. “We can’t cover much ground right now with Kíli injured. We need a night’s rest, and then we’ll keep moving in the morning.”

No one protested Thorin’s commands. They continued walking, walking in no particular direction. They weren’t going to move towards Erebor. They wouldn’t be ready to defend themselves against Smaug with one of their own injured. No, they had to find a safer spot, sticking to the outskirts.

After a little ways, they stopped. They were all exhausted from the walking and subsequent fighting in the forest. Thorin figured it fair enough for them to take a short break to rest and regain their breath and strength.

“But we can only stop for a few minutes,” Thorin said, “and once we get moving again we aren’t going to stop until we find somewhere to set up camp, alright?”

Bilbo and Fíli found a soft spot in the ground to set Kíli down.

“Thanks,” Kíli managed.

“How does it feel?” Fíli asked.

Kíli opened his mouth right as Thorin approached the three of them.

“I’d like to speak to our burglar alone for a moment,” Thorin said.

Heart beginning to race, Bilbo stood up and Thorin led him a ways away from his nephews. Bilbo heard Kíli begin to speak, though they were far enough away that he didn’t understand a word Kíli was saying to his brother.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Thorin said, his eyes shining as he looked down at Bilbo. He wasn’t smiling, but his expression beamed in the way Bilbo had only seen after Bilbo saved him the last time. “I don’t know what you did to get rid of those spiders, but whatever you did saved our lives. And you helped Kíli get this far.”

The corners of Bilbo’s lips turned up. “It’s the least I could do for you after you’ve let me stay on this quest for this long. It’s felt like you’ve had many an opportunity to be rid of me, I who is little more than just an assassin to you at the end of the day, and yet you let me stay because you know I support your cause. It has been an honor to be on this quest with all of you.”

This brought a smile to Thorin. This was one of the few times Bilbo had seen him smile. It sent his heart doing backflips. Thorin had such a beautiful smile and the fact that he only saved it for the most special of occasions made Bilbo feel all the more important.

“You really are an assassin, though.” It wasn’t a question, but Thorin must have still been grappling with the new information from the other day.

“Yeah. That’s why I was prepared to fight off that warg while you were unarmed. I also fought the spiders to get us out of there just now. I’ve been trained to get out of sticky situations quick. Just because I haven’t been so forthcoming with it doesn’t mean the skill hasn’t always been there. And I will use those skills to continue to protect you all as best as I can.”

“I guess there’s always been more to you than meets the eye.” He put one hand on Bilbo’s shoulder.

Bilbo tried not to gulp, even though he desperately wanted to swallow the lump growing in the back of his throat.

They maintained eye contact for a second and then they both broke it at the same time to look back over at Fíli and Kíli. A chill hit Bilbo’s shoulder as he felt Thorin slide his hand off.

“I ought to go make sure those two don’t cause anymore trouble,” Bilbo said, and the two men laughed.

“We need to keep going,” Thorin said. “Make sure they’re ready to go.”

The two parted and upon returning to the soft spot in the ground, Bilbo repeated Thorin’s instructions. A few feet away Thorin was corralling everyone else.

Bilbo knelt down to help Kíli get to his feet and then, slow step by step, the three of them returned to rejoin the rest of the Company.

From there they kept moving forward and they didn’t stop until they saw a parked van appear out of nowhere. It was parked alongside a river—since when was there a river out in this part of the country? Thorin had never mentioned there being a river out here, nor had they heard the sound of running water as they walked this way. It was a black van, nothing like the white van they left at Beorn’s house, but it looked like it was larger than their van, hopefully giving for enough room for all fourteen of them to share with a little personal space to add.

“I don’t think we should go there,” Balin said. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“What other choice do we have?” Thorin questioned. “I’d hear you out if you had another proposition, but there is nothing else in sight and we need to try this, seeing as it’s our only option.”

They made their way towards the van. Bilbo wasn’t sure if they were merely checking it out to see if they could sleep there for the night or if Thorin actually meant to steal it. Whatever his intentions were, Bilbo shared Balin’s sentiment. Along every step of the way Bilbo felt uneasy about straying too far out of his comfort zone. Of course, attacking spiders wasn’t one of those things, but he drew the line at stealing a random van parked outside of the forest.

Everything felt like it was going to work out until they got closer to the van. Thorin peered into the window closest to them to see if there was anyone inside. It appeared that the van was empty, but they all jumped when a man came out from the other side of the van.

“What are you doing?” The man asked. “Thieves, I see?”

“No, and who are you?” Thorin grumbled.

“This is my van. I’m Bard of Lake-town. You’re from Erebor, aren’t you?”

Chapter Text

“I said, are you from Erebor? Is that why you’re here?” Bard asked when no one responded to his initial line of inquiry.

Bilbo didn’t know what to think of this man. He didn’t look like an immediate threat to them, but he didn’t look particularly welcoming either. It was hard to judge what would come of talking to this man, but Bilbo supposed they didn’t have much choice in the matter. They were out in the open where they could be seen easily by anyone passing by and this man had a van, so he could give them a ride closer to Erebor. The mountain was still far off and Bilbo couldn’t calculate how long it would take them to get there on foot, if they could at all. He didn’t know how far this water extended toward the mountain.

Thorin didn’t respond right away. He paused as though to contemplate his words, but he didn’t have the chance to speak up. Fíli did so first.

“Our reason for being here isn’t important right now. We need help. My brother is injured. He hurt his ankle, you see. He can’t stand on his own, let alone walk.” Bard looked over Kíli, though he did not meet Kíli’s eyes.

“We can pay,” Balin said, taking a step forward.

“Very well. Get in the back of the van,” Bard instructed, “and keep your heads down. The windows are tinted, as you can see, but that doesn’t guarantee you won’t be seen.”

Thorin looked to Bilbo.“You and Fíli will stay on this side of the van with Kíli. The rest of you,” he turned to look at the rest of the Company, “will be on the other side of the van with me. Kíli needs more space than the rest of us.”

Bard unlocked the doors to the van and Thorin slid the van door in front of them open, so Fíli and Bilbo could help Kíli hobble into the seats. Thorin directed the others to move to the other side of the van, where Bilbo could hear him sliding that door open with the same vigor. The men started piling in on that side, leaving the other side with plenty of room for Fíli, Kíli, and Bilbo to spread out as Thorin had instructed. It was nice, but Kíli filled most of the space to stretch out his legs, so Bilbo and Fíli weren’t more comfortable than the rest of the Company in the van.

“Remember what I said, keep your heads down,” Bard ordered before he started the ignition. The engine roared and the sound filled the van. Bilbo ducked as Bard had told them to and he looked around to see the others had done the same. His heart fluttered when his eyes moved to see Thorin, discontent painted across the surface of his expression, but Bilbo could tell the feelings underneath were more complicated. Of course, it made sense that he would be worried for his nephew right now. They were so close to Erebor, but they were now driving in the opposite direction, moving away from the estate that Thorin longed to return to. But Fíli was right that Kíli’s injury was a more urgent priority at the moment, and Bilbo hoped that he cared enough for his nephew to understand that.

They hit a bump in the road and everyone lurched along with it. Kíli let out a hiss in pain, shutting his eyes and biting his tongue. It was quiet as he clearly tried to stifle the scream that would have come out if they weren’t worried about discretion. Bilbo couldn’t imagine what kind of pain would come from putting that moment of extra pressure on his ankle.

“How far away are we from your home?” Fíli asked. Though his words didn’t overtly hint to it, Bilbo knew him well enough at this point to know that he was worried. He was worried that Kíli’s injury would get worse before it would get better.

Bilbo was worried, too. He knew that he had grown fonder of the dwarves, but it wasn’t until he forced himself to accept his feelings for Thorin that he let himself feel this fondness for the others.

It was in that moment that Bilbo longed to comfort Thorin. But Thorin, staying true to his nature, kept himself shut from the others.

They hit a few more bumps in the road, each delivering a little softer of a blow than the last, until finally the van came to a halt. Not wanting to ignite a potential fury in Bard, Bilbo kept his head down, but curiosity sparked in him as he wondered why they had stopped. He heard the sound of Bard rolling down his window and then a voice spoke outside the van.

“What have you got in the van?” A man spoke outside of the van.

“Fish, Alfrid,” Bard said in an icy tone. “You know, so everyone in the town can eat.”

“I’ll need to have a look in the van.”

“What do you need to look in the van for? I just told you what I have back there. It’s fish, there’s no need to inspect it. The families in town will need it or they will starve. You wouldn’t want to be the reason why everyone in the town starves, now, would you?”

The man called Alfrid mumbled something under his breath that Bilbo could not quite make out. But Bard must have heard it because he said, “Thank you,” and then rolled up the window.

There was a creaking sound that made Bilbo imagine a gate being lifted. Bard shifted the gear back into drive and let the van roll forward. He never put his foot on the gas pedal, wanting to stay rolling slowly through the town until finally he came to a stop. He turned off the engine and turned around to look at the others, who were still ducked below the windows, out of sight.

“You all need to hurry now,” Bard explained. “You’re going to have to go through our plumbing system to get into the house. It’s the only way you’ll be able to get in without being spotted. You two.” He pointed to Fíli and Bilbo. “Bring the injured one in first. There’s a small sofa you should be able to lay him out on. Don’t be too loud when you come in, though. My children are inside. I don’t want to scare them until I’ve had a chance to explain the situation to them.”

Fíli slid the van door open before moving to help Kíli up. Bilbo was on the other side of Kíli, following Fíli’s movements in helping lift him up. The three of them staggered out of the van. Bard gave them a moment to regain their balance before pointing to where he expected them to go.

The house stood on wooden stilts holding it several feet above the water.

Bilbo bit his tongue as soon as he realized the way that Bard expected them to get into the house.

***

When Bilbo reached the surface of the toilet, sopping wet, he looked around. It was a small, wooden house but it looked homey on the inside. He stuck his arms out to lift himself out of the toilet bowl. He hoped that this would not be the way they would have to exit when they left. He didn’t want to have to deal with that again…

He kept his arms outstretched to his sides as he settled onto the secure floor beyond the toilet. He heard a stirring and saw Kíli coming out of the toilet behind him. He helped pull Kíli out and watched as Fíli climbed out to join them.

They heard the front door close when a young girl noticed them. She was young, not quite of age, but old enough to be confused by what they were doing there.

“Dad, why are there dwarves coming out of our toilet?” She yelled, presumably to Bard who had just come through the front door. Bard’s footsteps grew louder as he made his way to join everyone else.

“Sigrid, they’re going to be staying with us for a couple days,” Bard explained. To the dwarves, he added, “The couch is just over there.” He pointed to a couch at the other side of the small room. “He can stay there for the time being, until we can get a better look at his ankle.”

Fíli and Bilbo helped Kíli to the couch. Kíli sighed when they set him down on the couch. It looked as though it were about to crumple under the weight of Kíli outstretched on it, but he looked unbothered.

“This is the best I’ve felt in days,” Kíli joked, trying to plaster a fake enthusiastic smile on his face, presumably masking the consistent underlying pain for his brother’s sake.

There was more and more stirring coming from the the toilet. One by one, the rest of the Company ascended into the house from the toilet. Bombur struggled to get out on his own, for he was as wide as the toilet bowl, but with a bit of pushing from Bard and Bofur he was able to get out. None of them looked too thrilled to be entering the house through the sewage, but Dwalin and Thorin in particular looked displeased.

“Once this is all over, I don’t want to hear you speak of this again,” Thorin said to his nephews, both of whom were trying—and, for the most part, failing—to stifle laughter at the sight of their uncle climbing out of the toilet and dripping water onto Bard’s floor.

“Well, it’s the only way I could get you into the house without being seen,” Bard said, his tone icy. “We don’t know who’s watching. The last thing we need is for me to be thrown into jail for smuggling thieves into town.”

No one challenged Bard’s comment about them being thieves, even though Bilbo could tell Thorin was still bothered by the whole situation.

“It’s almost nightfall, so I can imagine you’re all hungry,” Bard went on. “You’re in luck that I have a good amount of fish tonight for once. It’s more than I’d usually have, so it’s a lucky break that I have enough for everyone. It’s not common that we have more rations than we’re able to eat, just my children and I, in just one or maybe two days. It’ll take sometime for it to cook so you all should get settled. In the meantime, let me introduce you to my children. This is Sigrid, my oldest.” He pointed to the girl who was still staring at all the men with confusion clearly painted on her face. “Her younger sister is Tilda and this is my son Bain.” He motioned to a younger girl and boy who sat near Sigrid. They too were confused about why the Company was here, but they did not seem as concerned about the situation as Sigrid. Bilbo couldn’t tell how old they were; he couldn’t get a grip on the difference between the way men aged as opposed to how hobbits aged. Perhaps they were too young to understand.

“Where is your wife?” Bofur asked, his tone nonchalant.

“She, er, passed quite some time ago,” Bard said in a low voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bofur replied.

Bard seemed to pick himself back up like he hadn’t said anything. “The fish. I have to start cooking the fish now. It’s going to take some time for them to cook all the way through, especially if I’m going to have to make enough for everyone. You all ought to get settled in now because it’ll be a while before dinner is ready.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Balin said as Bard pulled a large pile of fish out of the fridge and prepared to cook it on the stove. At his side, Bombur looked eagerly at every step Bard took, though he restrained himself from jumping into the action to help Bard.

Bard smiled. “It is the least I can do. You said you are on this side of the forest to see Erebor. We here in Lake-town are well familiar with Erebor’s history with Smaug. We have lived in fear of Smaug for far too many years, though we do not have the riches that he seeks, which has protected us from fear of a direct attack up until this point. Still, though, it is not encouraging when the lavish estate is on your backdoor, the estate with the power over the Lonely Mountain, falls into the hands of such a reckless, dangerous criminal. It is hard to say what he could be planning at any given moment, or even at this very moment. I would not be surprised to learn that his ambitions extend past the walls of the illustrious estate. He seeks nothing but riches, riches, and more riches.”

Bard tossed the fish into the pan one by one, and one by one they began to fill the air with the sound of sizzling. Bombur’s eyes lit up as the smell of the fish spread throughout the small house. Bard may have thought the fish wouldn’t be much, but it was going to be one of the more proper meals Bilbo had on this quest and he was looking forward to it.

***

After dinner, Bard showed Bilbo to the room where he would be staying. Being a hobbit and thus the smallest member of the Company, he would be able to fit in the same bedroom as Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda.

Sleeping in here, by myself with the children, will certainly be a great change, even if only a temporary one, Bilbo thought. At this point he welcomed anything besides having to share all the same quarters as the dwarves. He was starting to get plenty used to them at this point, but that didn’t mean he was any more thrilled to sacrifice his own personal space.

As Bilbo settled in, he noticed how the moonlight shone into the room, creating a faint but lovely glow in the small room. Even though the room felt rather small, there would be plenty of space for the four of them to share.

Bilbo stayed awake long after the children went to sleep. He wasn’t the only one awake in the whole house, though. He could hear the dwarves’ chatter outside the bedroom. He enjoyed having this private moment to himself, so he didn’t want to join the others in their conversation.

But that didn’t stop him from taking a chair to the door and listening in through the cracked door.

At first their conversation was nothing out of the ordinary. It was merely more and more discussion about the impending trials of reclaiming Erebor. How were they going to do it? As if Thorin hadn’t already forced them to spend the previous afternoon at Beorn’s cottage rehashing all the little details.

“What about Bilbo?” Dwalin asked.

Bilbo perked up at hearing his name. His heart fluttered a bit, unsure of where the conversation would go next. They were still talking about Smaug, right? Maybe they were still reeling from finding out that Bilbo was not the burglar Gandalf portrayed him as, but in fact an assassin with the power to take down Smaug.

“What about him?” Thorin replied, his voice low, as if he didn’t want anyone to overhear. But Bilbo could still hear him. The house was small enough, after all. And it wasn’t likely that someone was standing right outside the house listening in.

“Come on, Uncle, you can’t pretend you don’t know what we mean,” Fíli said. “We see how you look at him.”

Bilbo felt his face redden. He glanced at the children in bed, grateful that they were asleep and couldn’t see how dark he blushed in that moment.

“We know you l—”

“Enough,” Thorin hissed.

“But you’re not denying it,” Kíli said.

There was a long pause, the tension so high in the room a knife would slice right through it. At least, that was how Bilbo perceived it just from listening in.

“Yes,” Thorin said, his voice now even lower than before. “You’re all right. But what would come of it? He has his own home, his own life back in the Shire and I have the estate and I have my family here. We both have our broken pasts. Why would he want to bear another’s burden like that? It wouldn’t be fair of me to expect him to take that on so willingly.”

“But you don’t know that that’s how he feels, do you?” Kíli noted.

Bilbo almost fell out of his chair. He was relieved that assassin training forced him to be quick and quiet. He managed to stop himself from falling without causing a ruckus. What would be worse: to wake the sleeping children just a few feet away from him, or to alert the others to the fact that he had been sitting by the door and had just heard every word of their conversation?

Thorin shared his feelings. Thorin shared his feelings. Thorin felt the same way as he.

But how much of this was real? A new, unfamiliar feeling overcame Bilbo. He didn’t feel as though he were in his own body, like he was in a dream. The problem was that he didn’t know if this was a dream or not.

Chapter Text

Bilbo could barely muster the energy to sleep that night. He kept replaying the conversation he had overheard in his head, over and over again, trying to figure out if he was actually sleeping the entire time or if he had heard the conversation correctly.

Thorin shared his feelings for him. But Thorin didn’t think it was right to act on those feelings. He thought he had Bilbo’s best interests at heart by keeping these feelings to himself.

He sat on the foot of Sigrid’s bed, his thoughts still reeling on a never-ending loop. He didn’t realize how much of the night had passed until the sun began to creep in through the bedroom’s window and he felt Sigrid stir in the bed. She crawled to the foot of the bed to sit beside Bilbo.

“Did you have trouble sleeping?” She whispered, her voice soft so she wouldn’t accidentally wake her siblings.

Bilbo nodded. “A bit,” he admitted. “We’ve been through a lot to get here. I haven’t been able to stop and catch a breath because we’ve been moving forward through all of it. There’s been too much to process and there’s only more coming.” It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t entirely a lie either. There was so much more that he wasn’t going to let on.

“Come into the kitchen with me,” she said. “I can get you some water.” She rose from the bed and Bilbo followed her out of the bedroom.

In the other room, all the dwarves were sound asleep, sprawled across every surface in order to make the most of the limited space they had. Kíli was the one who looked the most comfortable, with the couch to himself because so he could elevate his ankle.

Sigrid filled two glasses of water for them out of the tap. They sat down at the small table in the kitchen. They both drank from their glasses in silence. It was a nice moment. For the first time in hours Bilbo felt like he was living a little bit outside of his head and he wasn’t thinking about Thorin.

Thinking ahead to the impending mission to Erebor, Bilbo started to think about something he remembered his mother teaching him about when he was still a rather young hobbit, still new to learning about his mother’s craft.

***

Bilbo ended up confronting Bard to ask him a question that needed to be asked.

“Do you know if there are any poisonous plants that are easily accessible around here?” Bilbo asked. This was the only way he was going to find out and it would be best to give as little information about it all as possible.

“What, are you getting tired of your dwarf friends?” Bard asked, cracking a smile. They shared a laugh. “In seriousness, though, deadly nightshade grows a lot on the outskirts of town. Do you know what it looks like?”

Bilbo nodded. “Deadly nightshade,” he repeated. “Also known as belladonna.”

“Belladonna…” Bard paused, as if considering this other name for the plant like he had never heard of it before. But he seemed quick to steer the conversation in a new direction. “You’re not from Erebor, are you? You’re clearly no dwarf.”

“No, I come from the west. Where I’m from, we call it belladonna.”

“I see. That’s not a common name we hear for the plant on this side of the world. As long as you travel a ways east from here, you will find plenty to pick. I can’t go with you to show you… Not without arousing the Master’s suspicions. The plant is technically illegal in the town, but that has never stopped people from smuggling it in. We use it sometimes in tiny amounts in our medicine, you see. You know what it looks like so you shouldn’t have a hard time finding it.”

“Why is he suspicious of you? Does he know that you smuggle the plant into the town? Or is it because of…” Bilbo paused, trying to find the right words to broach the subject, unsure of what this would stir up in Bard’s mind. “Yesterday, when you brought us into town in the van, when that man wanted to inspect the van because he didn’t trust your word.”

“Aye, the Master has never trusted me. My ancestors ruled these lands once, and he doesn’t trust me to not follow in their footsteps and try to claim legitimacy over him at some point. I have no desire to do such a thing. I just want to keep my quiet life here with my children. But the Master doesn’t see things the same way, and such is my fate here. That is why you must be careful.”

***

Bilbo slipped out of the house at midday. There was enough bustle in the town below the house that he was able to blend in, especially with his short stature that made it hard to spot him in a crowd. He sucked in a deep breath of the fresh air as soon as he was outside. It was so crisp and clean, reminding him of one of his favorite things about the early mornings at Bag End.

For once, he didn’t feel sad thinking back to the now-empty Bag End. How strange it was that he considered that place his home, the only safe space he felt he had in Middle-earth, and now he didn’t even feel sad thinking about it while he was away, on the other side of the world.

He made it out of the town limits without running into any trouble. He explored the greenery outside the town limits, admiring the flora in all its beauty while also keeping his eyes peeled for the dark berries that distinguished the belladonna plant.

As Bard had told him, there was a vast array of belladonna plants, with plenty of berries for Bilbo to pick. Bilbo had a vast knowledge of poisons. He remembered sitting through lessons with his mother going through all sorts of various poisonous plants and their uses. She had saved the deadly nightshade for last. It was her namesake, after all, and she thought it was worthy of only the most careful study.

It would take at least ten berries to create a poison strong enough to kill a man. Anything less might make him sick for quite a while, but it would not be a death sentence. Bilbo had borrowed a small knife from Fíli the other day, which was still tucked into his pocket now. He didn’t have gloves so it would be hard to pick the berries off the plants. Direct contact with the skin would cause a large rash, making it obvious to anyone who saw that he had been handling the berries. He would have to slice the berries off the plant and let them drop into the little bag he brought with him. It was an awkward process, but it was the best he was going to manage without the aid of gloves. Going down a line of plants, he sawed the berries off of several plants—it would be more berries than the bare minimum he needed, for good measure. Once he was done, he tied the bag shut and tucked it into one pocket of his coat while the knife went into the other.

Bilbo would have to plan his steps more carefully to get back to Bard’s house once he returned to town. Leaving right at midday was optimal for sneaking out undetected, as he could easily blend into the large crowds of people wandering the town at that time. However, he wasn’t sure how much of the afternoon passed while he was gathering these berries, so he wasn’t sure how busy town would be, and so he would have to exercise more caution to ensure nobody would see him wandering around and then slipping back into Bard’s house. Nobody knew the Company was here in Lake-town and Bilbo certainly wasn’t going to be the one that blew their cover while they were here. There would be a lot to think about in executing this spontaneous, meticulous plan.

But in this moment, brief as it may have been, he wanted to stay here and enjoy the scenery and the time to himself. There was something about it that reminded him of Beorn’s small but lush garden. That garden was tame and trimmed around the edges while the wild flora out here grew freely in every direction. But both were full of life, which Bilbo admired. As a hobbit he loved everything that grew and he found beauty in all of it.

He only took in this scenery for a few moments longer, though, because he knew he couldn’t let himself get carried away in his own head. Sooner or later, he would have to go back to the house, back into the belly of the quest that he was too deep into at this point. There was no turning away from it now.

He took slow steps as he made his way back to the town, making sure he took advantage of the beautiful scenery and breathing in the fresh air while he still could because neither were things he had much time to appreciate when he was living and traveling in close quarters with thirteen dwarves.

The town was a little less busy when he returned. He would have liked it if the town had stayed as busy as it had been when he left. It would have been easier for him to sneak back in undetected. This was the situation, so this was what he would have to work with.

Bilbo thought he was lucky that Bard stepped out of his house right as Bilbo was figuring out a strategy for getting back into the house. He stopped in his tracks and scanned the area and saw a few different men with their eyes fixated on Bard. These had to be some of the spies of the Master that he had mentioned that morning.

That’s not a very subtle way to spy on someone. But was subtlety a goal? Perhaps the Master wanted Bard to know he was being watched. If Bard had any motivations to act against the Master, this could be an intimidating factor to drive him into compliance.

Bard spotted Bilbo out of the corner of his eye and he began to walk toward Bilbo. At first Bilbo thought this was counterintuitive, but then he realized Bard’s quick strategy. Bilbo was small and nimble enough to slip by Bard undetected, while the spies focused all their energy on keeping their eyes on the man. It was a relief that Bilbo was light on his feet because if he was heavier and stomped more like Thorin, there was no way a plan like this could work.

As Bard moved, Bilbo dashed beside him and darted directly for the house. He slipped inside without arousing the suspicion of any of the spies watching Bard. A few minutes later, Bard joined Bilbo in the house. He was probably staying outside a little bit longer so the spies watching him wouldn’t grow suspicious of him leaving and then immediately re-entering his house. Bilbo respected how he was able to think through this so quickly.

“I found the deadly nightshade,” Bilbo said. “And thank you for your help. You certainly know how to play those spies like a fiddle.”

“It’s no trouble,” Bard said. “Do you expect to be able to poison Smaug with the deadly nightshade, then? Is that what this is for?”

“Of course. I’m an assassin and I know my craft.”

Chapter Text

The days at Lake-town passed almost as if there was nothing out of the ordinary, almost as if one of their own wasn’t housing thirteen dwarves and a hobbit plotting to sneak into the estate of Erebor right on their backdoor. They were stalling at Erebor in light of Kíli’s injury, but it was clear that the wait to leave again made Thorin weary and he didn’t try to hide that feeling. Balin had managed to help delay them longer, knowing how much strain it would be to move on with Kíli still recovering as slowly as he was, but Thorin was growing impatient.

It took Balin reminding Thorin about how Bilbo saved his nephew’s life to convince him they needed to stay a little while longer.

“We need to rest, after everything that happened with the spiders,” Balin had told Thorin. “Bilbo saved all of our lives so I think he deserves at least a few days’ rest before we smuggle him into the estate. Especially after he saved your nephew’s life, you know. You know how Dís would feel about that if she were here right now. She would have your head if you so much as considered acting without her son’s best interest in mind. Smaug will still be there either way.”

In the meantime, Bilbo hadn’t stopped thinking about what the Company had said about him that first night here. Try though he might, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around Thorin’s words. Thorin’s fear was what was holding him back from confessing his feelings directly to Bilbo. But Bilbo longed to hear the confession from Thorin himself. It wasn’t fair that their circumstances were keeping them apart. Damn that Smaug for making this so damn difficult.

But most of all, damn Thorin for looking so handsome when he was brooding.

***

The next day was long because Bard insisted on keeping all of them holed up in the house, even Bilbo who knew how to come and go in his usual subtle way.

“You already had your time out yesterday,” he told Bilbo in confidence. “I know everyone is getting restless, but we can’t draw too much attention to ourselves. You know the Master likes to keep such a close eye on me. Who knows what he would do if he found out I was harboring all of you here.”

“Where are you going?” Bilbo asked, eyeing Bard with suspicion as he watched him head for the front door. “What part of wanting to lay low involves you leaving? You know they’re watching you.”

“I have some business I need to attend to,” Bard said, waving his hand in the air nonchalantly. “Routine stuff, you understand.”

Bilbo could tell Bard was lying, but he went along with Bard’s charade anyway and nodded. Whatever Bard was hiding, Bilbo wasn’t going to pry after the hospitality he extended to all of them by letting them stay here. But that didn’t change the fact that Bilbo could spot the lie. His mother had taught him that skill well.

The day passed relatively slowly, with no one bothering to keep a close eye on the time, until Bard came barging back into the house.

“You’re Thorin Oakenshield,” Bard said, breathless. Wherever he had been, he certainly ran all the way back to the house. Surely he had been out trying to research who these strange dwarves were and try to figure out for himself why they were really here. After all, it was strange that thirteen dwarves were traveling with a hobbit on the outskirts of the Lonely Mountain.

“Yes,” Thorin said straight away. He didn’t sound eager to announce this to Bard, but at the same time he wasn’t reluctant since he was already found out. “I am here to come take back what is rightfully mine. The estate of Erebor belongs to the line of Durin, and with no one else. Especially not in the hands of a fugitive who doesn’t value the history behind the house.”

“Funny that you didn’t ask us for our names before now,” Balin mumbled, keeping his voice low enough so Bard wouldn’t hear him. Bilbo was thinking the exact same thing.

In a louder voice, so Bard could hear, Balin added, “What made you suddenly figure this out now?”

Bard pointed at Bilbo. “You have an assassin in your company. I didn’t think much of that fact at first, but then after some pushing he confessed to me that he meant to kill Smaug with the deadly nightshade, for he was an assassin. I couldn’t get that out of my head. Thirteen dwarves on this side of the forest, so close to the estate of Erebor, seemed like a realistic possibility. Maybe they wanted to see the estate from a safe distance to pay their respects to what their kin had lost. That didn’t seem too unrealistic. But thirteen dwarves traveling with an assassin. That couldn’t be a coincidence, now, could it? So I did some digging in the town’s archives. We have some history books that recount the history of the fall of Erebor. They were all dusty. No one reads them. Here we all grew up hearing the tales of Erebor, so everyone knows some version of the story. But what no one realized is that the books in the archives have a lot more detail and it was with that extra information that I was able to put the pieces together.”

No one challenged Bard. He was right on all accounts.

“Why hide your identities from me?”

“Simple,” Dwalin said. “We didn’t know your motives when we first met. We didn’t know if you were going to turn us away or simply broil us if you found out why we were really here. Now that you know Thorin Oakenshield travels with us, are you going to throw us out?”

“No. But it’s because I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to undertake this quest. I’m sure you’re well aware of how dangerous confronting Smaug would be.”

“Don’t worry, I’m well aware of what Smaug is capable of,” Thorin said, “which is exactly why we have to see this quest to the end. It’s why we have an assassin on our side.”

Bilbo didn’t interrupt to comment on the fact that none of them had known he was an assassin until a matter of days earlier, and that they originally thought he was just a burglar.

***

“Where do you keep the weapons?” Thorin asked Bard over dinner that evening.

Bard nearly choked on his fish upon hearing those words. “Why do you want weapons? You already have an assassin in your midst. Isn’t that enough against Smaug?”

“Why not?” Thorin countered. “Isn’t it better that we’re all armed before we enter the estate?”

Bard sighed. “The Master has stores of weapons in his mansion, but you will have to be careful trying to break into his stores. The cover of darkness can only protect you so much.”

“Nori will help our burglar steal weapons,” Thorin declared, seeming to ignore Bard’s warning as soon as he received affirmation that his plan was viable.

Bilbo gulped, swallowing a bile of protest building up in his throat. He sided more with Bard on the issue when it came to erring on the side of caution and reason, but also he had no choice but to accept Thorin’s demands. Thorin never gave commands with the wiggle room to resist, like a choice. Even if there was the ability to resist, Bilbo wouldn’t want to take it. He wanted to make Thorin happy first and foremost, even though he didn’t agree with the direction Thorin was taking. Just because Bilbo was raised to be an assassin didn’t mean he wanted to bend the rules of his moral code. And that especially meant no stealing. He made it this far into the quest without having to live up to the title of Master Burglar, but he supposed that winning streak was bound to come to an end now.

As soon as Thorin decided it was dark enough outside that they could take their chances, he led all of them out. He made sure to wait until Bard stepped out of the house. They all understood Bard would try his hardest to stop them despite the stakes.

Bilbo was glad Thorin waited until Bard was out because the last thing he wanted was to put up a fight against the man who was generous enough to play gracious host to all of them.

Thorin led them to the stores where the weaponry was housed, all the while staying hidden in the shadows. Few people passed by at this late hour but the potential to be spotted by any of them was still a risk they couldn’t take. They had made it this long without anyone besides Bard and his children knowing there were dwarves in Lake-town.

“Nori, Bilbo, you two will go in first,” Thorin said. They were around the corner from a high-up window that led to the stores. It was their most discreet way of entry. The front side of the stores were not heavily guarded; there were guards around the general vicinity, but they could get in and out through the front doors if they wished. The real challenge would be that they didn’t want to enter and exit from the same spot because it would draw too much attention.

Thorin scoped out the scene around the corner to make sure no one was around. “We’ll stand watch.” He directed the others to set up under the window so they could act as steps up to the window for Nori and Bilbo. “You two make sure we’re all clear inside and I’ll have Fíli and Kíli follow. Grab as many weapons as you can, all of you. Don’t leave without enough weapons for all of us. Go, now.”

The dwarves dashed to the spot under the window where Nori and Bilbo would use them as a launching pad into the building. Nori and Bilbo stayed around the corner so they could get a running start.

“You ready?” Nori asked.

“As ready as I suppose I’ll ever be,” Bilbo sighed.

Nori took off running first and Bilbo followed a second later. Jumping into the building turned out to be a lot easier than Bilbo expected. The dwarves turned out to be rather stable. To his relief they held his weight on their backs well. They were stronger than he ever gave them credit for.

Nori and Bilbo scanned the interior for any lurking men, but there was no one. They were alone in here. The plan was working so far. Bilbo ran to the window and whispered the all-clear to the dwarves below as quietly as he could, hoping his voice wouldn’t carry farther than needed.

Bilbo backed away from the window just in time as Fíli leapt into the building, his younger brother following behind a second later.

“Alright, then, where are the weapons?” Fíli asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He seemed to be enjoying thieving more than Bilbo did.

At least someone’s having fun, Bilbo thought.

“Over here!” Nori called. Fíli and Kíli followed the sound of his voice. Bilbo trailed, but his reservations about this whole endeavor started to wane as he realized that it was going well.

The four of them gathered as many swords as they could all hold and they made their way to the staircase. They would have to exit via the ground level because there was no way they would be able to get through the window while holding so many loose weapons. Thorin intended to lead the rest of the dwarves to the entrance to meet them there.

Kíli was first to go down the stairs, but his ankle was still rather weak—How did he manage to convince Thorin he was well enough to do this?—so he tripped on the third stair and toppled the rest of the way down. Bilbo winced at the sight, but all of the weapons he had been holding sprawled across the floor below and well outside of the immediate space where Kíli landed. Kíli managed to avoid landing on his ankle this time, which saved him from exacerbating his injury.

But the noise of this crash landing was all it took to draw the attention of the guards outside at the corner between the building and the water.

***

The men led all of the dwarves and Bilbo to the Master’s house, where they would meet him on the front steps outside his house.

So much for discretion, Bilbo thought. I guess I’m destined to not be burglar material after all.

The Master appeared from the house to chastise the dwarves. Once he came out, a crowd of men and women began to form, all of them rising from their homes, wondering what the commotion outside was all about. If the Master was involved then it had to be important. Bilbo found Bard alone among the crowd. Surely he already knew what was happening and made sure his children stayed at home.

“What are dwarves doing, stealing from the Master?” The Master demanded. Bilbo found it uncomfortable that this man thought himself important enough to refer to himself in the third person, but he bit his tongue. Commenting on that would do them no good.

“Do you know who this is?” Dwalin hissed, gesturing to Thorin beside him. “This is Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.” As if on command, Thorin took a step forward.

“So the line of Durin returns to the Lonely Mountain?”

“That is my intention, yes,” Thorin said. “I hope to see the end of Smaug’s tyrannical reign over my estate. Once he’s gone, I would see these lands restored to their former glory. I would see to it that the town on the lake will prosper once again, just like the days of old.”

Bilbo saw Bard’s face crumple with frustration as if Thorin were putting himself in danger by revealing his true identity so brashly.

But the Master did not seem to be any sort of threat. He smiled and cheered, “Welcome, welcome!” The crowd began to cheer, too. And so Thorin and Company were welcomed into Lake-town with open arms.

Chapter Text

The people of Lake-town insisted on a massive celebration in honor of Thorin’s return to the Lonely Mountain. They dubbed him “King Under the Mountain.” They based ont he belief that returning to confront the infamous jewel thief Smaug years after his initial conquest at Erebor was a kingly act, since no one else had dared to take on such a burden in all the years that Smaug had terrorized various corners of Middle-earth.

For his part, Thorin reveled in the glory of this moment. This was the most Bilbo had ever seen him smile. He even caught Thorin staring at him with glowing eyes, the clear effects of the ale sweeping over him. He was so drunk that he didn’t seem to notice Bilbo staring back at him, the same glint in his eyes too. It was the closest to a perfect moment Bilbo could ask for under these circumstances. He felt a little more at peace.

The night was merry and Bilbo felt a little more at home amongst the celebrations. It reminded him of the Shire. Celebration was a natural state for the hobbits. Few things felt quite like home like merry festivities with food and drink.

The celebration of Thorin’s return continued long into the night, but Bilbo decided it would be better if he retired early. With the final stretch of this journey on the brink, he didn’t know when he would get to sleep for a full night again. After they left Lake-town all his energy would be spent reaching that final confrontation with Smaug.

He slept soundly that night, a sharp contrast from a few nights previous, when he had overheard the conversation about Thorin’s feelings for him. He wasn’t sure what overcame him in that moment that made sleep come easier then than it had before, but maybe it was the sense of reassurance in knowing they had dealt with this situation in Lake-town and it had all worked out in their favor. It would have been impossible to say any sooner how this would have played out. For all Bilbo knew of the Master, he could have just as easily thrown them all out of town as he did accept Thorin with open arms.

Morning came almost too quickly. Bilbo rolled onto his side to see the sun rising through the window. He forced himself to get up and get dressed. Knowing Thorin, he would want to leave early, and judging by the people’s reaction to discovering the King Under the Mountain, they would want to see them off. Bilbo would have to look presentable. At least Thorin would be dressed up, too. Whatever Thorin wore, Bilbo knew he would be nice to look at as they made their way to Erebor.

By the time Bilbo finished dressing and made his way into the kitchen, the rest of the house was in chaos as everyone was trying to get dressed, with Thorin barking instructions at all of them. As Bilbo expected, he was dressed so nicely. His clothes looked like fine silks in comparison to the tattered garb he had been wearing the whole time Bilbo knew him. He looked so much more handsome in these nicer clothes, Bilbo almost couldn’t take it. But Bilbo had to swallow his thoughts and so he stayed to the sidelines, watching everyone else get dressed in a rush, trying to catch up to speed with Thorin.

When they finished, Bilbo noticed that no one else was dressed as nicely as Thorin. Why had Thorin packed such a clean, handsome outfit if no one else in the Company prepared for a similar eventual need for an outfit like this? Had Thorin anticipated a moment like this, a moment where his outfit warranted dressing to rise to the occasion as leader of the Company?

Bilbo, on the other hand, had just packed nicer clothes because it reminded him of home.

Once everyone was dressed, they all made their way outside.

“Where’s Bofur?” Bombur asked once they were outside. He surveyed them, looking for his brother. Bilbo looked around and he too realized that Bofur was not among them. He must have been too drunk from the night before to wake up in time. Maybe he would turn up at the last minute.

All the town awaited them at the docks to see them off on this final stretch of their journey. They had prepared a boat for the Company. It looked like it was going to be a tight squeeze to fit everyone on it, but compared to the van they had driven in all together, this looked like it would be a breeze.

Ori, Nori, and Dori were the first to climb into the boat.

Thorin, ever the speech-giver, couldn’t resist the opportunity to give a speech before getting into the boat. Especially after the way the people of Lake-town hailed him as the King Under the Mountain. There was a pedestal along the dock, so Thorin hopped onto that as Glóin and Bifur began to help Bombur into the boat without capsizing the whole thing. Óin climbed in once they were sure the boat would stay steady under Bombur’s added weight.

“This is it,” Thorin began, his voice booming with elation. “This is the last step in our journey to defeat Smaug!”

The onlookers roared with cheers and applause.

“We will defeat Smaug and you all will be able to live in peace again!”

Bilbo looked on at Thorin with a light shining in his eyes. He was so engaged with and enamored by Thorin’s words that he almost forgot where he was. Dwalin tapped his shoulder to bring him back to reality.

“Come on, we need to get in the boat,” Dwalin said.

“Yeah,” was all Bilbo said as he turned and joined Dwalin and Balin in the boat.

Thorin, however, was still standing on the dock. He stopped Kíli in his tracks, preventing him from joining the rest of the Company in the boat.

“No, you stay,” Thorin said in a low voice. “You’ll only slow us down.”

“I want to be there when you reach the mountain!” Kíli protested.

“You are still too injured. We all know what happened last night. You will only slow us down.”

“Uncle!” Fíli piped in. “You cannot deny him this opportunity! You’re the one who raised us on tales of the mountain. It’s not right that you would try to stop him from reaching the mountain with us now.”

“My decision is final.”

“Fine, then, but I will not come.”

“You are the heir to the estate after me. I should not like to be parted from both my sister-sons now, not when we’re so close to the end of our journey.”

“I will not be parted from my brother, Uncle!”

“You belong with the Company,” Thorin insisted.

“I belong with my brother.”

Fíli seemed to inherit the same stubbornness that Thorin possessed. Bilbo always thought of Fíli as more easygoing and he had been such up until now. He must have reserved his stubbornness for certain times like this, when it came to the greater good of his own family. And Thorin seemed to understand that, too. There would be no persuading Fíli at this point so he seemed to have relented in a way that only his own kin could push out of him.

“I’ll stay too,” Óin said, climbing out of the boat. “My duty lies with the wounded. I will make sure Kíli recovers.” Bilbo wondered how long that would take without Gandalf’s magic to aid them. He didn’t know much of medicine, but he knew it was anything but an easy business, sometimes even with the best of magic.

Thorin climbed into the boat, settling right at the front next to Bilbo. All color flushed out of Bilbo’s face because the boat was packed so tightly that they had no choice but to stand pressed up against each other. There wasn’t enough room for Bilbo to take a step back and give Thorin a little more space. Not that he would have wanted to if he could.

The boat began to move and Bilbo started to feel uneasy. Boating was not something that he enjoyed, so this was an uncomfortable experience for him. It was even worse than Thorin’s driving.

Bilbo watched the crowd—they were still cheering as they had during Thorin’s speech—and spotted Fíli, Kíli, and Óin watching them from the dock. As the people along the docks began to fade out of sight, Bilbo caught a glimpse of Fíli and Óin walking away from the dock, back to Bard’s house. Then in a split second he couldn’t see the people anymore and they were out in the open water.

Then the edifices lining the town disappeared into the horizon, too. This was it. This was the last stretch of their journey. They were going to Erebor.

Looking around, Bilbo noticed that Bofur was still not among them. He must have not woken up in time, after all.

Chapter Text

The boat led them down to the end of the river. They parked the boat right around the spot where they had found Bard’s van parked just a few days earlier. This was starting to feel a little like déjà vu to Bilbo. It was almost like they were backtracking, but in reality Lake-town had been just a footnote in the greater story of their journey.

From this point on Thorin took a more solidified role as the leader of the Company. It made sense, since he was the one who knew this part of Middle-earth the best. With the help of his grandfather’s map, he would be able to navigate the rest of the way to the estate. It wouldn’t be that hard to find, though, since they had the Lonely Mountain to guide them most of the way.

“Getting to the estate is the easy part,” Thorin explained as everyone climbed out of the boat. “Finding the hidden entrance to the basement will be the real challenge.”

That didn’t sound encouraging to Bilbo, but then again, what part of the quest ever did sound encouraging to him?

It was no more than an hour’s walk from the river where they parked the boat until Thorin stopped them in their tracks.

“This is it,” he said, “this is the border of the estate.” They looked out at the house perched at the foot of the mountain.

It wasn’t as Bilbo had imagined it. Perhaps it was because they were looking at it from a distance, but it was smaller than Bilbo imagined. Still, though, it was a magnificent, large house with an exterior painted a lovely shade of light brown.

“How exactly are we supposed to find the basement?” Bilbo asked.

“It’s on this map,” Thorin explained. “We need to keep going. We shouldn’t stay in one place too long. Stay away from the front doors. We can’t afford to expose ourselves so quickly. We have the element of surprise on our side and it won’t serve us well to sacrifice that so willingly.”

They kept moving after that, Thorin at the front of the line. Everyone was willing to follow his lead. He knew this land better than any of them; after all, this was his childhood home. They were on the top of a hill at the border of the estate, and then when they crossed the border the land took a sharp dip. it was like the land around this part of the mountain cratered inward in contrast to the great height this mountain achieved.

Bilbo nearly slipped on the way down, but Thorin caught him before he face-planted into the grass and dirt. Thorin had grabbed Bilbo’s hands as he braced himself for the impact, with his arms stretched in front of him in preparation to break his fall. Thorin helped Bilbo to his feet while the rest of the Company watched in silence.

Bilbo knew what they were thinking, but he didn’t care.

“Thanks,” Bilbo whispered, looking into Thorin’s light eyes, hoping his gaze didn’t give away how flustered he was.

“You’re welcome,” Thorin whispered back.

Thorin turned away from Bilbo and continued walking, like nothing had happened in that moment. But Bilbo felt Thorin’s admiration and he hoped Thorin noticed the same from him.

The more they all walked along the clearing to the house, the more Bilbo grappled with the realization that the Erebor estate had been a lot bigger than he initially anticipated. He understood it to be a large plot of land, but he imagined it would be a little smaller, considering the family had their eyes set on the mining potential in the mountain, rather than the lush green land on the other side of the house.

As they got closer to the house, Thorin led them around the side of the building, avoiding the front doors as he warned earlier. The house was a lot longer than appearances led on. Thorin stopped them once they were all around the corner and tucked along the side of the house, all their backs pressed against the wall. This way they could not be spotted from the front doors.

Thorin consulted the map, trying to figure out where the hidden door into the basement under the house would be.

“We’re on the wrong side of the house,” Thorin growled, though he was scolding himself more than he was admonishing the rest of them. He kept his voice low, lest Smaug be able to hear him in the house. “It’s on the opposite end of the house, but we can’t take the short way. The short way requires us to go around the front and we can’t afford to be spotted. We’re too close to making it inside to be spotted. We’ll have to go around the back of the house and loop around. It’ll be the longer way, but with any luck we’ll still be able to find the door.”

They stayed in the same single-file line, pressed against the exterior walls of the house, as they made their way around the back and to the other side of the house, just as Thorin instructed. Thorin insisted they keep their movements slow so they didn’t make too much noise. Bilbo appreciated the amount of thought Thorin was putting into leading every step of this journey, even if the dwarves struggled to conceal themselves in the shadows the way Bilbo could with ease. It aligned with the principles he learned from his mother in assassin training. The art of subtlety was second nature to him.

Once they finally made it around the second corner and onto the side of the house they wanted to be on, Thorin announced in the same quiet voice, “Make sure you’re feeling along the walls for a door. It’ll be hidden. My grandfather no doubt painted it to blend into the walls, but the ridges of a door hinge should be able to give it away.”

As they scaled the wall, their hands were at their sides, palms pressed against the wall, feeling for any ridges that would give away that there was a door there.

Bilbo saw Ori’s pupils dilate when he stopped in his tracks. He must have been the one to find the door. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dori next to him covered his mouth before he had the chance. Dori understood that they shouldn’t shout. The last thing they needed when they were about to get into the house was to draw attention to themselves.

Instead, Bifur caught Thorin’s attention by gesturing to Ori’s place. Thorin nodded his understanding.

With the door found, everyone moved aside so Thorin could try his key in the keyhole. The new challenge lay in the fact that Thorin couldn’t find the keyhole. There was no evident spot along the wall where they key could fit, which made sense considering the door’s purpose was to remain secret. But the keyhole was not in a logical spot relative to the size of the door, as an added layer of difficulty. It took several tries before Thorin could slide the key into the door with ease.

“Of course my grandfather would have put the keyhole in a random place, in case someone could find the door, they wouldn’t be able to open it without the key, and even if they did have the key they would have to work to be able to get in.” Thorin smiled a little bit to himself as he twisted the key and the door swung open.

Thrór must have been a cunning man to be able to think of that, Bilbo thought.

The door opened up to a flight of stairs to the basement that Thorin had been talking about. It was a dark passage. They could only see the first step of the staircase, only illuminated by the sunlight beaming down on it, so they couldn’t guess how deep under the house this basement went.

The only way they were going to be able to find out was by going in.

Thorin led the way and the dwarves followed, one by one. Bilbo stayed at the end of the line. While he waited for the others to go in ahead of him, he took advantage of the spare moment to check that Sting was still secure in his scabbard and, when he felt confident that everything was in its place, he followed behind the dwarves, plunging straight into the darkness, unsure of what they would find on the other side.

***

The basement underneath the house turned out to be a lot bigger than the exterior of the house suggested. It was an expansive space. Bilbo wasn’t sure why Thrór had built this basement, but whatever he was thinking, he must have planned for an extreme eventuality. The basement had to have been at least triple the size of Bard’s house.

Everyone was looking around, taking in all the details of the place, except Thorin. He must have been a little more familiar with the basement, between this being his home and the fact that he had the map.

“With the supplies we have,” Thorin began, “we should be able to sustain ourselves down here for a while. It should be plenty of time for our burglar to carry out his mission. You all better start getting comfortable because we’re going to be here for a while.”

“How much time is Bilbo going to need?” Dori asked.

All eyes turned to Bilbo.

“Er, I’ll need some time to first scope out Smaug and get a feel for his habits,” Bilbo explained, “so that way I can make a plan of how to undergo the attack.”

“You don’t have a plan yet?” Nori asked.

“I do, to an extent. I don’t have all the details worked out yet because I need to be able to change those details to fit the man. I need to figure out what will be the best time and place to go in for the kill. It’s not a one-size-fits-all approach.” He swallowed. This was the first time he was really going to have to start thinking about what he was going to have to do. He felt a disconnect from this reality when he was looking for the poisons in Lake-town, but being in Erebor meant he couldn’t avoid thinking about it properly anymore. But he had no choice, did he? He wasn’t going to tell them he had never actually killed before. There were the spiders, if that even counted, but that was it. It was super rare that the Tooks actually carried out assassinations for the Thain. Their presence in the Shire—the years of training, the recognition of their status, all of it—was a formality more than anything else. Gandalf knew this. Surely Gandalf knew that Bilbo had never killed before, so why was he even here?

“It sounds like our burglar has this under control,” Thorin said, “but we’ll still be here to help. I’ve prepared burner phones for everyone. One for each in the Company. Even those who are not among us today already have theirs. I left Bofur’s with Óin when I realized that Bofur was not awake with the rest of us, and I made sure to give my nephews theirs personally at the very beginning of this quest, because who knew what kind of trouble they were going to find themselves in at any point.

“All of the phones are pre-programmed with the numbers for every other phone, contacts assigned and everything, so there will be no problems with being able to contact anyone else in the Company. They’re all labeled so everyone knows whose phone belongs to who, but none of them have our real names attached to them. I’ve labeled each with a name that we will understand amongst ourselves, but can’t necessarily be traced back to any of us specifically by anyone outside of this Company.” He dug into his bag and pulled out a smaller bag. In this smaller bag were all the phones.

Thorin went around the group with the smaller bag in hand and handed each their assigned phone. Bilbo was the last to receive his. The phone was a clunky old thing, which made it perfect for this mission because the older the technology, the less incentive there would be to trace the phone. After all, it was harder to store potentially dangerous information in a phone that only took calls and had limited texting capability. When he looked over the phone, he noticed the word “burglar” written on the bottom in elegant handwriting.

Chapter Text

There was a great amount of tension while they were all huddled together in the basement. Bilbo in particular felt the nerves in the air as he weighed the inevitability of this quest in his mind. It was starting to take a toll on him. It was like a burden weighing heavy on his shoulders.

But deep down he knew he could handle the burden of this quest. It was the culmination of all the years of training he went through with his mother. It would be right to put those skills to use after his education ultimately cost the lives of both his father and mother. His parents would be proud of him.

He emulated so much of the Baggins in him, but through and through he was just as much a Took, too. It was time that he embraced the Tookish blood in him.

It was only going to be a matter of hours—if it would even stretch out that long—before Bilbo would have to go directly into the belly of the beast and finish the job once and for all.

“Bilbo,” Thorin called. Bilbo’s heart sank. Thorin never used his proper name, preferring to simply call him burglar. Perhaps burglar had become a way for Thorin to stay disconnected from Bilbo, but maybe it had also become something of an endearing term. Whichever it was, it was Thorin consistent use of this moniker that threw Bilbo off when he used his real name instead.

Thorin’s call pushed Bilbo out of his head and into the present moment. For the time being he was still in the basement with those in the Company who sailed from Lake-town to Erebor. For the time being he was still safe from Smaug’s clutches. For the time being he was still by Thorin’s side.

Bilbo rose from the chair he was sitting in and made his way to where Thorin stood. Thorin was hovering next to a pile of boxes. One of the boxes was on the floor, already opened.

“What is this?” Bilbo asked, looking at the strange thing Thorin was holding in his hands. Whatever it was, it shone like crystals and was very visually appealing. Bilbo felt like he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off it if he focused too much on its magnificence.

“Mithril,” Thorin said. “The armor of the line of Durin. It would be my greatest honor if you would take this. For whatever’s going to come upstairs, you know.”

Bilbo didn’t know what to say. He knew he didn’t understand the full value of this gift, but he cared more about the gesture behind it. Even in spite of everything, in spite of the internal strife he battled, Thorin cared enough about Bilbo to think him worthy of this kingly gift.

Bilbo found himself blushing, but he couldn’t stop it. “T-thank you, Thorin,” he managed.

“I will leave you so you can put it on and make sure it fits,” Thorin said, taking this opportunity to dart away.

Bilbo knew he was blushing harder than ever now. But he also knew there was nothing he was going to be able to do about it.

***

The mithril fit Bilbo well and he managed to fit his clothes right over it. It was thin against his skin, so light that it was like he wasn’t wearing anything at all, but he knew it would provide good protection. Why else would Thorin give it to him on the eve of Smaug’s assassination?

He wandered back, retracting the steps he watched Thorin take to go find him again. The time was drawing near that he would have to leave this basement and head into the upstairs of the estate and confront Smaug one way or another. They had rehashed the details enough times and he couldn’t put off going up there for too long, but he wasn’t quite ready to part ways with Thorin just yet.

They had their phones to communicate while he was upstairs and Thorin was downstairs, but that wouldn’t be the same. The phone was reserved for emergencies. The phone wouldn’t replace seeing the lines on Thorin’s face crease when he smiled or the way his eyes lit up when he was passionate about whatever he was talking about.

He found Thorin brooding in a corner alone, separate from the rest of the Company, who were whispering among themselves, likely about the quest and Bilbo’s impending departure. They didn’t seem to notice Thorin or that Bilbo was approaching him.

Thorin didn’t question why Bilbo was there.

“The mithril fits perfectly,” Bilbo started.

Thorin smiled. His smile was warm and his eyes glimmered. “I’m glad.”

“I was thinking about, you know, er, everything,” Bilbo said, “and how I’m going to have to leave soon. It seems like it was just as well that I got this from Beorn’s garden.” Bilbo’s hand dove into his pocket and pulled out the acorn from Beorn’s garden. He was impressed with himself for being able to keep it safe this whole way, especially in spite of everything they encountered along the way.

Thorin looked down at the acorn and then looked back up at Bilbo. “You kept this all the way from Beorn’s garden? It seems like a poor prize to take back to the Shire.”

“I thought I could take it to Bag End and plant it there. It will grow into an impressive oak tree. A new life in exchange for the taking of Smaug’s, you know.”

Both of them paused, their eyes fixed on the acorn in Bilbo’s outstretched hand. Then Thorin moved to close Bilbo’s hand, securing the acorn, keeping his hands pressed around Bilbo’s smaller hand. Thorin’s hands were calloused, but also warm.

***

A few more hours passed and the Company shared the rations that they brought with them. Bilbo wondered how long they were going to be able to live off the food they had packed. There was sure to be a lot more food upstairs, of course, but did they think they were going to be able to access that without being caught? That was too risky an endeavor, but with Thorin, sometimes it felt like nothing was off the table.

Everyone ate in silence, the weight of Bilbo’s impending departure weighing heavy on all of them. Bilbo felt a little better knowing that for now he was sharing the burden with the dwarves. But that was only a temporary fix to his conflicted feelings.

Once everyone finished eating, Balin pulled Bilbo aside.

“I need to warn you about something,” Balin said. “It’s about Thorin.”

“What about Thorin?”

“Dragon sickness. It’s a sort of mental affliction, a fixation if you will. Specifically it’s an obsession with the jewels this mountain has yielded, and in particular the Arkenstone. It seems to be an affliction specifically of the line of Durin. I have no doubt Thrór and possibly even Thráin struggled with this battle before Smaug took over the estate. Thorin has been unaffected by it, but I’m afraid that very well might come to an ugly end soon. Most of all I fear that being back here to reclaim the estate will bring with it the brutality of the dragon sickness.”

“So, this ‘sickness,’ as you say, makes them lust for the Arkenstone like a dragon lusts for its treasure?” Bilbo inquired. “Wouldn’t you say Smaug is pretty dragon-like, then, in that regard?”

Balin cracked a smile. “Yes, lad, I suppose you’re right. But it’s more dangerous for Thorin because it’s already driven some in his family to madness, so it’s only a matter of time before he falls into it too. He can’t have the Arkenstone, at least not until we can get to the bottom of this dragon sickness. From my understanding there should be a way to essentially ‘snap him out of it,’ so to speak…”

Balin stopped after that because Thorin was approaching them now.

“I think it’s time for us to see our burglar off, don’t you think, Balin?”

“Yes,” Balin said, looking between the dwarf and the hobbit. “Come on, Bilbo.”

Bilbo followed them back to where the rest of the Company waited.

“How are you going to get out?” Dwalin asked.

Thorin pulled the map out again. “This is how,” he said, pointing to the center of the map. “There’s one vent in here that attaches to the rest of the house, but isn’t actually part of the central heating system. It was designed specifically so anyone can come in here from the house or go into the house from here. You wouldn’t stumble upon it and know what it was just from looking at it. You would only know what it was if you knew to look for it.”

“Will Bilbo be able to fit through it?” Dori asked. “I thought vents were a lot narrower and would make it hard for someone to fit through, even if they are a hobbit’s size.”

“The vents in this house are enormous. My grandfather probably designed them so they would all be the same size—that way, none of them would draw any attention for being larger than any of the others—and large enough that a dwarf could fit through them. Even Bombur could probably fit!” Everyone, including Bombur, laughed. It was a rather dry laugh, but a laugh no less and this was enough to ease the heaviest of the tension in the room.

“It’s right there.” Thorin pointed to a large vent along the wall across from him. “I have no doubt that a hobbit would have any trouble fitting in there.” Bilbo turned around to see what Thorin was pointing to. He was right that they were large in size; there was no question that a tiny hobbit could fit. It was high up, though, so he wouldn’t be able to reach it without any sort of assistance.

“How do you expect me to get up there?” Bilbo asked, turning around to look at Thorin again.

“What, did you think I hadn’t already thought of that? There should be a ladder around here somewhere and if not, we’ll all get on each other’s shoulders to make sure you can reach up there.. That’s the least of my concerns.”

Bilbo shuddered at the idea of climbing up the dwarves’ shoulders. He hoped Thorin was right about the ladder.

He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Thorin pulling a ladder out of a cupboard. The ladder was tall, taller than even Thorin himself. Thorin propped the ladder up against the wall and everyone was surprised to see that the ladder reached well past the height of the vent. It would work. Bilbo was going to be able to get in.

Bilbo ran through the mental list he had been maintaining about the things he would need while he was in the estate proper. Sting, the burner phone, the bag of belladonna berries…

Once he was confident he had everything he needed and nothing more or less than that, Bilbo turned to look at those who remained in the Company once more.

“This is it,” he said. “I will see you on the other side.”

“If you ever get into trouble, don’t hesitate to call us and we will all come to help you,” Thorin said. His expression lended no outward emotion, but Bilbo saw a bit of the vulnerable man who had wrapped his hands around Bilbo’s earlier in those words. Bilbo wondered if he was thinking about that moment, too.

“Of course,” Bilbo said. With that, he turned around and climbed up the ladder. He didn’t look back as he moved from the ladder into the vent, where nothing but darkness lay ahead and he would be on his own to navigate through it.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for Bilbo’s eyes to adjust to the near-pitch black darkness of the vent. Thorin had been right that the vents were wide enough for even Bombur to fit in, but he didn’t mention that they were not tall. They were so short that even Bilbo couldn’t stand up all the way. He had to crawl on his hands and feet to get around, which made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it would take him longer to be able to reach for Sting when he was crouched down like this.

He had no idea where Smaug was in the house, so he was going to have to slow down and figure out all of his next moves meticulously. From what he could make out on Thorin’s map, this vent was not connected to the rest of the vents. After all, it wasn’t a part of the central heating system, so why should it be connected to the vents that are part of that system?

That meant he would have to stay in this vent until he could time his escape properly, while Smaug was in a different part of the house. He couldn’t afford to blow his cover so early into the mission. He supposed the easiest way he could get in and out without being seen was to find the next closest vent. That way he would be connected to the rest of the house’s ventilation system and he would be able to get around the house without having to worry about ever being seen.

This was either going to be the easiest or the hardest part of the mission.

Bilbo saw the first glimpse of the house, the little bit of light breaking through the seemingly infinite darkness. Bilbo resisted the temptation to go running for the light. No, he would have to exercise even more caution from here on out. There was no way he could guarantee Smaug wouldn’t be in this room at this very moment.

Bilbo moved slower from that point on until he reached the vent. Trying to remain in the shadows, he tucked himself into the corner as best as he could manage. There wasn’t any place to hide in this spot, so he had to make the most of what little advantages he did have.

He scanned the floor and didn’t see any feet, making it clear to him that Smaug was not in this room. That was a good start. The next step would be figuring out how he was going to get out of here. It wasn’t like he could just climb out of the vent and go from there. He had to calculate exactly what he was going to do first. There was no room for error. This wasn’t training with his mother; this was a real life or death situation. He could expose himself to Smaug later, but for now he didn’t know the man’s habits and so he had to err on the side of caution entirely.

The next step in this challenge would be figuring out where he was going to go when he got out. That ended up being the easy part: there was another vent in the opposite corner of the room. This was when his hobbit-ness was on his side. He was going to have to make a run for it to the other vent, as fast as possible. He was light enough on his feet that the run itself wouldn’t be a problem, but the challenge lay in the fact that he couldn’t control the fact that the vents were going to make noise when he opened and closed them. He knew he could be quick, but he was going to have to concentrate because any slight hesitation could cost him the entire quest. They had come too far for him to mess up at this point.

He took a few minutes to study every nook and cranny of the room that he could see from his crouched position in the vent. Once he felt confident in what he was going to do, he began to move as fast as he could. Being on his feet outside the vent was jarring, for he had adapted quickly to being on his knees in the vents, but he managed to close the vent quietly enough behind him. It had been harder, however, to get it open with little sound, for he had to struggle against the panel from the inside. He was going to have the opposite problem when he got to the other vent. As soon as he knew the panel was securely back in its place, he dashed to the other side of the room, all the while listening carefully for the sound of approaching footsteps, one hand clinging tightly to the scabbard that housed Sting. He kept the whole scabbard attached to his belt and under his coat so it wouldn’t be hanging out in the open for anyone to see. It was less than half a minute by the time he was inside the other vent.

He had inadvertently made enough noise fiddling with the panels that it must have caught Smaug’s attention, but it was a lucky break because he was quick to jump inside the vent and seal himself in without notice. Less than a minute after he situated himself in this other vent, he watched feet trail into the room. Bilbo looked up as best as he could, trying to stay in the shadows, and observed the enormous man looking around, swinging his head back and forth looking for whatever the source of the noise could be. Since the source of the noise was hiding in the vents, out of sight, Smaug gave up searching and trailed out of the room, but not before Bilbo had gotten a good profile of the man’s physicality. He was large and wide, not like Bombur, but from muscle, though he didn’t look particularly muscular.

Bilbo waited until he was sure Smaug was out of the room, and then he turned around and crawled deeper into the ventilation system, determined to at least learn the layout of the house before he did anything else. He had the berries ready. He had time. There wasn’t a rush, so he may as well gather as much information as possible while he still could.

***

As Bilbo crawled through the vents, his mind wandered to Thorin. Thorin, who was in the basement, waiting to hear back from Bilbo once Smaug was dead. He was so close, but he felt so far away. Bilbo felt like he was in his own world up here, crammed into the vents.

Bilbo thought about the warmth of Thorin’s hands. His hands had been so warmed when he clasped Bilbo’s hand around the acorn.

Isn’t it ironic that I’m longing for Thorin’s warmth when I’m quite literally in a vent attached to this house’s central heating system?

He kept on crawling until he found another room. This room appeared to be the dining room. There was a small chandelier with jewels lining it alongside the lights and underneath it was a long dining table made of a rich mahogany wood.

Bilbo made a note of how he got here and then turned back into the vent. He made his way around the estate, taking note of each room and how he got to all the rooms until he created a mental map of the house. It was a mediocre attempt, but considering the circumstances—for one, he couldn’t get out and explore the house on foot to get a feel for the layout—it was going to be good enough.

This was going to be the most Bilbo could do for this day. He crawled until he was a safe distance away from any rooms and he stretched himself out on the floor of the vent to sleep.

***

Sleeping in the vents proved to be anything but restful. Everything felt tighter when Bilbo was asleep, like everything was closing in around him.

He didn’t entirely know what he was going to do next, but he hoped that he wouldn’t have to stay in the vents for much longer.

The time on the burner phone told him it was the following morning, so he decided he would dedicate this day to observing Smaug and then he would decide what he was going to do next at the end of the day. Taking things day by day would be the easiest thing for him now.

There were no new messages on the phone. Not that Bilbo had expected to hear anything from the others, especially not so early into this mission.

Bilbo crawled back and forth in the vents several times until he found the room where Smaug was in. Smaug was already awake and he had already gone ahead with whatever he intended to do on that day.

The day wore on slowly. Observing Smaug was exhausting, both physically and mentally. He had to keep crawling from one room to the next, following Smaug in the shadows along throughout his day, as well as keep tabs to himself about the personality traits he derived from these observations, and compartmentalizing those he thought were the most important, the ones that might be of some value later on.

From what he gathered, Smaug was a cunning man, quick to think on his feet. He would be a fair match for Bilbo. He seemed a bit neurotic, always checking his surroundings lest anything be stolen under his nose.

Bilbo would have to be more careful, then. But it was still valuable knowledge nonetheless.

Bilbo took some time in the darkness to contemplate what his next move should be. Smaug appeared to value himself above all others, so playing into his ego would be beneficial. But that also meant that Bilbo would have to confront the man directly and play right into his desire for external attention. This was the only way he’d be able to get Smaug to trust him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to get close to Smaug and the whole mission would be a bust.

Bilbo crawled through the vents, trying to find the central ventilation system. It should have been connected to a small room that would lead to the outside, and that would be a way for Bilbo to get out of the house.

It took a few wrong turns at first, but Bilbo managed to find the central system that connected all of the vents. As he predicted, there was a panel along the central system that connected to a small room separate from the rest of the house. From the vent he could see a small door that presumably connected to the outside of the house. Bilbo pulled off the panel and climbed out. He stretched his legs, relieved to finally have a chance to stand with his knees unbent. He’d only been in the ventilation system for about a day, but it was already beginning to take a toll on his knees.

Bilbo moved straight for the door that led to the outside. He had to fight to open the door, fighting against a powerful gust outside that wanted to keep the door shut. Once he got the door opened, he took the first gasp of air outside, breathing it in as deeply as he could, remembering how refreshing it felt to breathe in the crisp outside air. He didn’t care that the wind blew his hair into his face, curls almost landing straight into his mouth.

After a moment of stretching and letting his eyes adjust to the bright outside light—he hadn’t realized how brutal the darkness of the ventilation system was until he left it—Bilbo looked around to re-orient himself. He came out the back of the house. That helped him understand what he wanted to do next.

He made his way around to the front of the house. Without giving himself a chance to second-guess this course of action, he knocked on the front door.

Chapter Text

Bilbo was used to his short stature as a hobbit, but he wasn’t prepared to feel as small as he did when Smaug answered the door. Smaug had to be at least as tall as Gandalf, but the way he carried himself lent to a larger presence. His golden eyes glittered against the sunlight as he looked down at Bilbo.

Now was time for Bilbo to take the deepest plunge yet.

“You are Smaug the Magnificent, are you not?” Bilbo tensed in an attempt to stop himself from shaking his way through these words. He stopped himself from gritting his teeth as well. Though he was skilled as an assassin, he wasn’t much of a performer, so it would take all his strength to be able to convince Smaug that he was only here as an admirer and hide his ulterior motives out of sight. Flattery was not his preferred weapon, but it was the only option he had before him in this position. This was the only chance he had at being able to get into the estate without resorting to brute force. Who kew what sort of admiration such a devious being could garner from people who convinced themselves that they adored a man who committed an act as abhorrent as stealing an entire estate, likely because they thought he had an attractive face. Bilbo had to at least admit to himself that this man wasn’t glaringly hideous or anything remotely close to that, so it could be a possibility.

In spite of all the odds, Bilbo’s ploy seemed to work. “Oh, really?” Smaug said, a smirk growing on his face. His voice was harsh and deep. Bilbo guessed that he would give off a larger-than-life presence if he angrily boomed his voice. Bilbo didn’t want to find that out for sure. “Why don’t you come in?”

So far, so good, Bilbo thought, the tension loosening a bit in his mind.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, stepping into the house and following Smaug’s lead. The estate was more incredible on the inside, the way it was meant to be viewed, as opposed to looking at it through slits in the vents. The ceiling stood high and the whole room had a slight orangeish-brown tint to it. It was stunning, especially when Bilbo looked at it in front of the windows that lined the front of the house, which showed the lush greenery outside in contrast to the brown interior design.

A lot of the furniture looked to be made out of wood, giving the whole house a rustic feel. It matched the aesthetic presented by the house’s light brown exterior. It was more like Ered Luin than Bag End.

“So, who are you, anyway?” Smaug asked, raising an eyebrow as he scanned Bilbo.

“Underhill,” Bilbo blurted out the first name that came to mind. He didn’t give himself a moment to hesitate and think about what he just said. He had to keep going so as not to arouse suspicion. Any moment’s pause was a moment that could plant a big enough seed of doubt in Smaug’s mind, and he wouldn’t let that happen. “My name is Underhill. And over hills and under hills I have come to get here today.” He tensed like he was locked into place because if he didn’t force himself to tense up, he knew he was going to shake like a small terrified animal. This was essentially the moment he had been training for his entire childhood, so why was he so nervous about facing it now?

“Well, Mr. Underhill, I always appreciate admirers coming around to visit.”

Bilbo loosened his shoulders. This is working.

“What brings you to Erebor, Mr. Underhill?”

“I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence,” Bilbo improvised. “I wanted to see if the tales of you were as great as I have heard.”

“That’s interesting,” Smaug said, considering Bilbo’s words. “I do not recognize your kind. You’re no dwarf and certainly too small to be a full-grown man.”

“I am a Halfling from the West. The legends of your story go far beyond this corner of the world. You have no equal on this earth; your magnificence is unmatched.”

Smaug raised an eyebrow, but looked pleased by Bilbo’s flattery. “Why don’t you come in and tell me more of the West, then, Mr. Underhill?”

***

The hours that followed were excruciating for Bilbo. He found Smaug to be insufferable and arrogant, but there was nothing he could to get out of the situation at this point. He would have to win Smaug’s trust for his plan to work.

And so gaining his trust entailed sitting around, recounting tales of the Shire to Smaug. Bilbo had no idea what Smaug knew of the Shire, if anything. Gandalf had mentioned that he didn’t know of hobbits, so it couldn’t have been a lot, but Bilbo erred on the side of caution nonetheless, putting forth his best effort to remain as vague in his stories as possible. And he was especially careful to not mention his family name or anything that could even be remotely traced back to his family name. He wanted to keep himself and his home as removed from this man’s knowledge as possible.

At face value winning over Smaug’s trust did not seem to be much of a challenge because Smaug was so self-absorbed that he fawned over the idea of Bilbo being an admirer. But the real challenge was actually putting on a brave face and pretending to admire such a despicable man. This was the man that took everything from Thorin. Bilbo felt sick at the what he had to do to take this estate back for Thorin, but he was going to do it. He loved Thorin too much to give up now.

Smaug didn’t let Bilbo out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time. Whether it was out of distrust for Bilbo or out of a fascination for the stories Bilbo was telling, Bilbo could not guess.

At one point near midday, they moved to the kitchen to eat a big lunch that Smaug seemed all too thrilled to provide for his esteemed guest. Bilbo thought it lucky he got a minute to himself in the kitchen so he could take a breather. Pretending to be so engrossed in whatever this slimy man had to say was exhausting.

While he was alone, he looked around the kitchen, familiarizing himself with this part of the house because he hadn’t had a chance to scope it out before. It looked like an ordinary kitchen, with a refrigerator, a sink, and the like, but it also came off as a lot fancier because it had a whole wine display against one of the walls.

He savored every second he had by himself because once Smaug came back in, he was going to have to put back on the whole act and that in itself was exhausting.

When Smaug returned he finished putting together a big meal for the two of them, which Bilbo ate with bated breath. At the very least, he had to admit to himself it wasn’t half bad.

But once the meal was over they were back to the main sitting room and it felt like the day was starting back from the beginning all over again. It was exhausting for Bilbo.

The second time Smaug left the room that afternoon, Bilbo received a text from Balin on his burner phone. The text was short and simple, to the point: How’s it going?

Bilbo thought it odd that Balin wanted to check in randomly now, but he didn’t have a lot of time to think about it. He heard Smaug’s feet right outside the room, so he composed a quick text back: Fine. Then he tucked his phone back into his pocket and pushed himself to not think about it anymore. He had to focus on what he was doing in the present moment, and what he was doing was being friendly with Smaug to make sure the man trusted him enough to let him get close enough to finish the job. He couldn’t lose sight of this mission now, no matter where his thoughts wanted to stray. This was the moment his mother had trained him for his entire childhood.

It was on the fourth time that Smaug left Bilbo alone that he stayed gone for more than a few short minutes. That told Bilbo that something was wrong.

Finally, Smaug called from the other room, his voice booming against the walls as it made its way to the armchair where Bilbo sat. “I found some intruders, Mr. Underhill.”

Bilbo followed the sound of Smaug’s voice to find him. Smaug was in a study at the end of a long corridor. When Bilbo peered into the study from the doorway, he bit his tongue to stop himself from crying out.

Smaug gripped a man by the arm in each of his hands. They were dwarves. They were Thorin and Dwalin.

Chapter Text

“So, Mr. Underhill, you came here to lure Thorin Oakenshield into my dominion?” Smaug hissed, his nostrils flaring. “Is that your intention?”

Bilbo hadn’t prepared for this. What were Thorin and Dwalin doing outside of the basement? He had to assume the rest of them were safe because they were the only ones here, so surely everyone else was still in the basement. That explained Balin’s vague concerning text earlier, but that didn’t explain why they were here. Were they worried that he wouldn’t be able to handle it?

“You know them,” Smaug went on, without waiting for a response. “You knowingly came here, bringing them with you. You meant to rob me! Thief!”

Bilbo gulped, but didn’t protest. He didn’t trust himself to say the right thing. He didn’t know if he was going to be able to think over what he was going to say before saying it.

“Surrender your weapons,” Smaug commanded. “These dwarves have already done the same. I will not have any attacks against me in this house.”

With great reluctance, Bilbo unfastened the scabbard on his waist and let Sting fall. He winced when he heard it thud on the floor. He didn’t know what was going to happen to it now.

“Get out of my sight now, thief, and perhaps I’ll consider sparing you. I’ll take care of these two traitors later.”

Bilbo held his breath, but he didn’t hesitate. What other choice did he have in this exact moment? He was too small to ambush Smaug now, not while he obviously had his guard up. He had no choice but to accept defeat in this moment, take his losses, and start planning his next move. This was the end of this battle, but it wasn’t the end of the war.

Bilbo had to stop himself from looking into Thorin’s eyes as he slunk out of the room. He couldn’t bear to face the reality. This was all too painful and raw for him to even dwell on for a second too long.

Turning away, he had to stop himself from nearly running out of the room. He didn’t want to give too much exposure to his feelings; that would make everything feel much stronger. He headed straight for the front door of the estate and slammed the front door loud enough to make sure Smaug could hear it, tears welling in his eyes as he did this. The slamming of the door felt like the thud of his heart sinking into his stomach. Outside everything felt a lot colder.

I’m going to get you out of this.

He knelt down to make sure he couldn’t be seen by someone looking directly out the windows, and he meandered around the house until he reached the back of the house where the central heating system was located. As quietly as he could, he opened the door to let himself back in there and back into the house.

***

Bilbo had to climb through the vents to get back into the main part of the house, but he was starting to get used to the movements he had to make in the vents so it wasn’t as hard this time as it had been before. He laid low in the vent, ignoring his stomach’s cries of hunger as the day passed, waiting for the right moment to strike.

It was nearing evening by the time he decided he was ready and supper was approaching. Bilbo hid around a corner and peered into the dining room, waiting for Smaug to come in. He came in with Thorin and Dwalin, still in handcuffs—it took everything in Bilbo to not make a sound of relief upon seeing they were still alive at this point—and the two dwarves sat opposite each other at the table, Smaug settling into the seat at the head of the table.

Bilbo looked down at his hands and the sealed bottle of red wine he held.

I don’t have any other choice.

Bilbo made sure to stomp as he revealed himself from his spot in the corner and entered the dining room, making a show with the bottle in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” Smaug hissed.

“Oh, Smaug the Brilliant, Smaug the Terrible,” Bilbo started, “I have seen the error of my ways, siding with a bunch of dwarves. It is you that I want to support in this cause.”

“No!” Thorin yelled. Bilbo refused to meet his eyes. He couldn't bear to see what Thorin was thinking.

“Silence!” Smaug tore his gaze away from Bilbo to deliver a death glare to Thorin. Then he looked back to Bilbo. He didn’t say anything else, giving Bilbo the chance to keep moving forward.

“I brought this bottle of wine so that we can have a toast to your capturing of Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilbo set the bottle down on the table in front of Smaug.

Smaug eyed the bottle with suspicion, but upon seeing that the cork sealed it, he said, “Very well. Dwarf,” he looked at Dwalin. “Fetch me a corkscrew from the kitchen. And no funny business. I’ll know if you do anything but get the damned corkscrew.”

Dwalin scowled, but did as he was told without resistance. Smaug waited until he trailed out of the room before he spoke again.

“What do you think, Mr. Underhill? Do you think these dwarves should drink to my success?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” Bilbo said, trying to not let his voice waver. “Why should they be rewarded?”

“You’re right.”

Dwalin returned with the corkscrew a moment later and dropped it onto the table in front of Smaug. He didn’t look at Bilbo, nor did Bilbo look at him.

Smaug took the corkscrew and pulled the cork out of the bottle. He already had a few glasses prepared at the table, so he grabbed two, one for him and one for Bilbo.

Bilbo poured the wine into each glass. They clinked their glasses together and Bilbo took the first sip. Smaug waited until Bilbo swallowed before he spoke, still not taking a sip.

“How does it taste?” Smaug asked.

“It has some fruity notes to it,” Bilbo said as he went in for a second sip. This time he didn’t let the wine touch his lips, but mimicked the act of swallowing.

“Sounds lovely,” Smaug said, now going for his glass. He took a large sip.

Bilbo put his glass down.

“You’re right, this is rather fruity,” Smaug said.

Bilbo didn’t drink again, but Smaug had a few more sips as they talked. All this time, Bilbo did not let himself look over to Dwalin and Thorin, who both sat in silence.

After several minutes, Smaug had gone through no less than three glasses of wine. Bilbo saw Smaug’s pupils starting to dilate, and his breathing growing more erratic, slowly bit by bit. If Smaug knew he was poisoned then he didn’t let it on right away.

It took a few more minutes before Smaug collapsed out of his chair altogether.

This was when Bilbo got up, kneeling to check Smaug’s pulse. There was still a faint pulse. He was alive, but barely. Belladonna poisoning normally took days to set in, but Smaug had ingested so much of the poisoned wine that it must have started to kick in sooner.

Bilbo turned back to Thorin and Dwalin, finally feeling a little more comfortable looking at them.

“That was brilliant, Master Baggins,” Thorin said slowly, almost as if he was reluctant to admit that Bilbo’s performance had managed to fool him this time.

“He’s still alive,” Bilbo said. “Where is the key for the handcuffs?”

“Check his pockets,” Dwalin said. “He’s a loathsome fellow, but he’s no fool. He wouldn’t leave it lying around.”

Bilbo got back down onto his knees and started digging through Smaug’s pockets until he found a rusty key. He moved quick to unlock the handcuffs on both Thorin and Dwalin’s wrists.

“Dwalin, can you go get our weapons?” Bilbo asked. Dwalin nodded and dashed out of the room.

“You really fooled me there for a minute,” Thorin said. “I am grateful beyond words that I was so wrong.”

“Why did you two come up here, though?” Bilbo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We, er, wanted to check everything out.” Did Thorin stumble over his words? Had he worried about Bilbo’s safety?

“Did you fear that I fell into the hands of the enemy? Of course I’m on your side. Of course I had it under control.” This time Bilbo did not care that his eyes glimmered with adoration as he lost himself in Thorin’s vibrant eyes.

“It was…the Arkenstone…” Still Thorin seemed hesitant as if he were trying to organize his thoughts into a coherent excuse.

“I’m back,” Dwalin announced as he strode back into the room, tearing Bilbo and Thorin’s gazes away from each other. Bilbo moved to take Sting from Dwalin.

“You two need to make sure the house is secure,” Bilbo said. “I’ll stay with Smaug.”

Bilbo watched the two dwarves saunter out of the room before he turned back to Smaug, who still lay on the ground. Bilbo made his way to Smaug and kneeled over the body, checking his pulse every few seconds as if waiting for his death on compulsion.

Bilbo felt his last weak pulse and then there was nothing. Rising, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent out the same message to all the numbers saved in the phone’s list of contacts: “He is dead.”

***

It didn’t take long for the rest of the Company to climb through the secret vent and make their way into the main part of the house. All were enamored by the breathtaking interior design of the house. Bombur in particular was elated to see the kitchen was fully stocked.

“So how did you do it?” Thorin asked. “Dwalin and I could both see the bottle of wine was sealed.”

“The corks on those bottles are easier to tamper with than you might think,” Bilbo explained. “You see, all I had to do was crush up some belladonna berries and mix it into the wine. The berries are sweet so the taste blends right into the wine. I made sure to choose one of the darkest red wines in the cellar, so it wasn’t as obvious that there were crushed berries mixed in with the liquid.”

“But you drank from it…”

“Ah, yes. You see, it’s possible to build up immunity to the poison. It’s a long and excruciating process, but it was a necessary part of my assassin training that I couldn’t get out of, no matter how much I begged my mother to please spare me from that pain. Now I’m glad I had to spend those few years suffering as I built up my immunity to the poison, so now I can drink a small amount of it and still feel fine. It was the perfect ploy to be able to convince Smaug that the wine wasn’t laced with poison, so it would be safe for him to drink.”

“My, my, Master Baggins, you really are a brilliant assassin. I would have never guessed a simple hobbit from the Shire was capable of such a cunning plan. Once again you continue to surprise me.”

“I like to think my mother would be proud to know that I killed such a vile criminal using the poison that is her namesake.” Bilbo’s voice was a lot quieter now, but still a bit higher than a whisper.

Thorin moved closer to Bilbo, taking his hands. There was that comforting, all-encompassing warmth again. “I’m sure she would be,” Thorin whispered. There was a pause. “Did you…” He paused, as if struggling to get out the words. “Did you see the Arkenstone when you were up here, before you had to save us?”

This took Bilbo aback. This was not what he expected to come out of Thorin’s mouth, but he remembered Balin’s warning that the Arkenstone had the potential to drive Thorin mad. He had just hoped that he would have a little more time with Thorin before he slipped this far away into the madness.

Chapter Text

The dragon sickness consumed Thorin all at once. What was briefly a slight concern for the location of the Arkenstone in the estate quickly descended into a total obsession.

After Bilbo contacted everyone about the death of Smaug, he received a lot of cheers through text from the dwarves that stayed behind in Lake-town, all of them elated that Bilbo had managed to carry through with the mission in such a short amount of time.

At first everyone complied with Thorin’s demands to search the entire house, top to bottom, for any trace of the Arkenstone. He was a lot harsher than any of them had ever seen. Only with Bilbo did he restrain himself, but even then he was nothing near the Thorin that Bilbo had fallen in love with over the course of this quest. This Thorin was cold and withdrawn, whereas Bilbo’s Thorin was warmer and more reserved, but willing to open himself up when he felt it was right.

It ended up being Bilbo who found the Arkenstone. It had been in the study where Smaug had established himself. The study where Bilbo found out Smaug had captured Thorin and Dwalin and intended to kill them, had Bilbo not been able to intervene first.

Thorin didn’t seem so focused on actually finding the Arenstone himself. He stayed hidden, tucked away in the side rooms of the house for most hours of the day, and that was the most frustrating part for Bilbo. This was not the Thorin he knew. The Thorin he knew would care more about the wellbeing of the other dwarves, those who had already proven their loyalty to him. But now it was like he equated their loyalty with their ability to find this one jewel. There seemed to be no doubt among everyone that the Arkenstone was indeed in the house, but none of them tried particularly hard to look for it when Thorin wasn’t in the room, watching them over their shoulder. Like Balin, they all seemed to understand it was better if they didn’t find the Arkenstone while Thorin was in this state.

***

Three days after Smaug’s death, Bilbo received a text from Fíli that Kíli was on the mend and they were coming to Erebor.

Bilbo spread the word to the rest of the dwarves and everyone was excited to see the others again.

Everyone except Thorin, who still kept to himself. He listened to Bilbo tell him that his nephews were returning, but he did not display any excitement at the prospect of being reunited with his kin.

Bilbo was starting to grow frustrated with Thorin’s withdrawal, but, at Balin’s urging, kept it to himself. The last thing any of them needed was for Bilbo to lash out at Thorin for behaving this way. He couldn’t control it.

But the rest of them all thought the Arkenstone was still lost somewhere in the estate. Bilbo had to wrestle with the fact that he had found it, but he couldn’t give it to Thorin. He wasn’t going to disregard Balin’s warning to him, Balin who had hoped it would be lost forever for the sake of sparing Thorin from the worst of the dragon sickness.

Afternoon came and it would be soon time for the rest of the Company to arrive.

“Come on,” Balin told Bilbo. Bilbo was sitting in front of a window, admiring the greenery outside, trying to keep his mind away from thoughts of Thorin that continually gnawed away at him. “There’s nothing you can do about him.”

Bilbo stirred, taking his time to get up. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard to watch him like this.”

They made their way to the front doors of the estate. Outside the rest of the Company, minus Thorin, was waiting for the others. They began to holler when they saw Fíli, Kíli, Óin, and Bofur coming across the clearing. To their surprise, though, Bard was with them as well.

Kíli was starting to heal. He walked with a little bit of a limp, his ankle in a sling, but he was able to walk on his own. It was a significant improvement from his condition when they left him. Bilbo wondered if dwarves healed faster than Men, for Bilbo did not think it would be possible for the average man to heal as quickly from such a deep injury as Kíli had.

Once they got closer, Kíli tried to run the rest of the way to the dwarves, but Fíli had to stop him. There was no way running would be good on his ankle since it was not fully healed yet.

When they made it to the front doors, each of the dwarves took their turns embracing one another in welcome. At last, they all turned to Bilbo. Fíli and Kíli did not hesitate to both pull Bilbo into an enormous embrace.

“You really did it, didn’t you?” Kíli beamed.

“You really are one hell of a burglar,” Fíli said.

Bilbo returned the hug, a smile growing on his face. He really had grown fond of these dwarves over the course of the journey.

When they pulled away, Bilbo looked over to Bard, who stayed a polite distance away from the dwarves and their merry reunion.

“What are you doing here?” Bilbo asked.

“I drove my van here to see you all together,” Bard said. “So it is true, then. The jewel thief Smaug is no more.”

Bilbo nodded.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t come any sooner,” Fíli said, “but we wanted to wait until Kíli was doing better. It wouldn’t have been the best idea to move him while he was still healing through the worst of the injury.”

“Of course, that’s understandable,” Balin said. “Come inside, all of you.”

Balin led everyone into the estate. Bilbo looked over to see Fíli and Kíli’s reactions to taking in all the newness of this place. This was their family’s home, after all. It was the home they never got to know growing up because it had been stolen away from the family before they were born.

Both dwarves looked around with a great amount of enthusiasm tinting their expressions. They looked thrilled to be here. Bilbo wondered what it had been like for them to stay behind in Lake-town, not knowing what was happening with their kin at the estate and not being able to see the estate for themselves. Not that they would have seen a lot of the estate before Smaug’s death, since they had to stay in the basement and the basement was a dark, dank place in comparison to the rest of the estate.

“Where is Thorin?” Bard asked.

No one acknowledged his question right away. None of them knew what to say. They had to think on their words.

“He is unwell,” Dwalin said. His voice was smaller than Bilbo had ever heard from him. Normally he was louder and prouder, but this was the sound of a man unsure of how to handle this serious conversation.

“It is dragon sickness,” Balin joined in, hoping to help his brother through explaining this conversation. “It is an affliction of the line of Durin. It has been the price the Durins have paid for their vast wealth in this house. Either Thorin will succumb entirely to the dragon sickness or he will overcome it, but we cannot say quite yet what the case will be.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Bard muttered. “This estate is lovely though,” he added, trying to pick up his voice and adopt a merrier tone to lift the mood. “I heard all the stories as a child, but I never got to see it in person. It was never safe for us to go anywhere near the estate until now.”

“It really is something special,” Fíli said. “My brother and I never got to see it before now because we were born after Smaug took it over. I wish our mother was here with us. She would love to lay her eyes on it again now, newly freed from Smaug’s nasty clutches. I’m sure she’ll be able to return soon enough, though, so I take some comfort in that.”

“The tales we heard about it growing up made it out to be this wonderful place,” Kíli said, also looking around, taking in every last detail etched into every nook and cranny. “It turns out that no amount of words was going to be able to do it the full justice it deserves, though. This place is amazing!”

***

Bard made himself comfortable in the estate and he blended right in with the Company, almost as if he was a part of the Company himself. He had done a good job observing the habits of everyone in the Company while they were staying at his house, so he could melt into the background in their group when they were together now.

They all managed to cluster around the dining room table. They let Bilbo sit at the head of the table and the entire time Bilbo couldn’t help but think about how this was where Smaug had collapsed just days before. Dwalin had moved the body to an unmarked grave behind the back of the house not long after his death, but Bilbo felt the stench of death in the room the way that nobody else did. He would know if anyone else could smell it, too; with such a boisterous group of dwarves, there was no doubt that they would all speak their mind if they found—or, in this case, smelled—something amiss. No, Bilbo could only smell it because it was he who was responsible for Smaug’s death. Though he knew it was for the greater good of this Company, it still weighed on him. It was his first kill. He knew the memory of checking Smaug’s pulse on the floor and finding nothing would bog him down in his mind for a long time to come, if not for the rest of his life.

Thorin was the only one missing among the Company at this meal, but it almost started to feel normal for everyone else in the Company. Thorin was rarely present for meals, and when he was, he remained silent, only speaking up whenever the topic drove anywhere near the Arkenstone. It was like a special talent that he could direct any conversation into the direction of the Arkenstone, but it was hard to think about it because it was a byproduct of the dragon sickness. This was nothing like the Thorin that Bilbo knew. The Thorin that Bilbo knew would always be at the head of the conversation and content so long as everyone in the Company felt the same. He cared more about the other dwarves than he did the riches in this estate.

They finished the meal and everything felt ordinary until there was a knock at the door right as Bombur and Bofur began to clear the dishes off the table.

Bilbo rose to answer the door. A sense of déjà vu overcame him. It was starting to remind him a lot of the night where he had first met Thorin. But Thorin was already in the house. Bilbo didn’t know where he was in the house—nor did he particularly care to find out, if he was being honest with himself—but this had to be someone else at the door. But who else could it be?

Bilbo felt a wide plethora of emotions, none of which he could distinguish individually, when he opened the door and saw a familiar gray wizard on the other side.

“Gandalf,” Bilbo said, feeling a little breathless, though he wasn’t sure if it was out of shock or nerves.

“Bilbo Baggins, I told you I would return as soon as I was able, did I not?” Gandalf raised his eyebrows. “And judging by the fact that it is you who answered the door, am I right to assume that Smaug the Terrible is dead?”

Bilbo hesitated, but nodded. It was the truth, after all. “He, er, died a few days ago, actually. The whole Company is here, and a Man we met in Lake-town is with us now as well. It was a bit of a detour that led us to him, really. But Thorin…”

“Is it the dragon sickness?”

“Yes. How did you know?” Bilbo’s face fell. Hearing Gandalf repeat the words made him feel like this was becoming more and more real, but he didn’t like that. He wanted to believe that his Thorin was still in there somewhere. He had to be. Deep down he still was, wasn’t he?

“I know more than you would ever be able to understand, Bilbo,” Gandalf said. He took his hat off as he walked into the estate, making sure to duck his head as he entered. Since it was a dwarvish estate, the doorway was a little too low for Gandalf. The ceilings in the rest of the house were high enough for Gandalf, but just barely. It was a miracle that Smaug managed to fit into the space and mold it into his own so effectively. “This is such a nice house, really. It’s too bad that it doesn’t accommodate my stature so well. You would think a house on the foot of such a tall mountain might be a little bit taller itself…”

Bilbo led Gandalf into the main dining room, where he was met with applause from all the dwarves. Bard eyed Gandalf with a little more caution than everyone else, but, based on everyone else’s reaction to this unexpected arrival, Bard must have assumed that he was no threat and so softened his expression a bit.

“It’s great to see you, Gandalf!” Dori cheered.

“What took you so long?” Dwalin asked. “You’ve missed the height of the celebrations! Smaug the Terrible is dead! All is well in the world once again!”

Gandalf shot a look at Bilbo that told him that all might not be so well in the rest of the world, but that didn’t matter to any of them in that moment. What mattered was that Smaug was dead and the line of Durin would be able to restore their place at the estate of Erebor. Not one of them thought about Thorin in another room of the house, continuing to brood over the Arkenstone, his mind focused on anything but the fall of Smaug.

***

At the end of the night, most of the Company retired, though their early rest was probably more a result of the excessive amounts of ale they all drank, rather than from sheer exhaustion. After a couple hours of the Company dropping into sleep like flies, only Gandalf and Bilbo remained awake.

“Something is weighing heavy on your mind,” Gandalf said as the two of them sat in front of the fireplace. the remaining embers were beginning to burn out, slowly plunging the room into darkness, but neither feared that darkness that would soon come. “Is it Thorin?”

Bilbo knew there was no denying it. If anyone would be able to pick up on the feelings he had developed for Thorin over the course of this quest, it would have always been Gandalf. “Yes,” he said. “I don’t understand this dragon sickness. It is nothing like anything I have ever seen before in the Shire. I don’t understand how Thorin can fall so deeply into obsession over the Arkenstone. I remember on that first night we met, he said he wanted to come here to retake a family heirloom. But I had no idea that any of that would lead to this.”

“I don’t think he really realized the full extent to which the dragon sickness could and would take hold in his mind, either,” Gandalf said. “I’m sure he knew of the dragon sickness, at least in passing, but perhaps he thought that he himself would be exempt from it, that he would somehow rise up to the challenge and overcome it through his sheer will to be here—here in the estate without a thief ruling over it, in the first place. Dragon sickness is a powerful magic, though, my dear hobbit. It’s nothing like you would ever see in the Shire. It makes my fireworks look like child’s play, if I’m being entirely honest. You mustn’t blame yourself for the way things have played out here in Erebor. You did your part, and a great job you did, as I knew you would. You couldn’t have stopped the dragon sickness, especially not as a curse that has plagued this particular family for longer than Thorin has been alive. Its reach goes way beyond your own abilities and especially beyond your own lifetime.

“Tell me, though. How did you end up killing Smaug?”

Bilbo sighed, pausing to recall the series of events that led him to this moment. He played Gandalf through everything, all the way from the moment he had left them on the border of Thranduil’s estate, right outside the forest when he left them to fend for themselves, all the way until he reunited with them earlier that day. The way Bilbo told it, it was a long tale, so long that the last embers of the fire had burned out by the time he finished. He didn’t take care to mention the details of how he realized he was falling for Thorin while they stayed in Beorn’s cottage, or how he overheard Thorin’s conversation with the Company about how he feared he wouldn’t be able to be the right man for Bilbo. Bilbo had no doubt in his mind that Gandalf had already sleuthed Bilbo’s feelings for Thorin on his own. Gandalf was one to observe those little things, even when no one else ever considered to put the pieces together. It was brilliant in its own way, but it also drove Bilbo mad.

Chapter Text

Bilbo ended up sleeping in the armchair in front of the fireplace that night. He didn’t have enough energy to find another spot to spend the night. The chair was comfortable enough for sleeping, so it would suffice and Bilbo didn’t think it was worth the trouble to get up and move to find another spot in the meantime. It wasn’t like he was going to have the best sleep of his life either way.

“Bilbo!”

Bilbo woke up to see Gandalf standing over him. Bilbo looked around, trying to reorient himself, wiping his eyes.

“What time is it?” Bilbo asked, stifling a yawn.

“Late enough in the morning for you to be awake,” Gandalf said, waving a hand, his head turned away. Bilbo could see the sun peering over the horizon through the window. It wasn’t that late in the morning, but at least it was after dawn.

Gandalf went around the rest of the house, waking the rest of the Company up—it was no surprise to Bilbo that none of them were awake, either; it was only Gandalf who voluntarily woke up this early—and then he came back to Bilbo, who was still sitting in the armchair. He didn’t want to get up. He knew Gandalf was going to make him get up sooner or later, though, so he wanted to enjoy a few more moments idling in the armchair while he still could. While he sat, he looked up at the painting that hung above the fireplace. It was a massive portrait of an older dwarf that Bilbo assumed had to be Thrór. Bilbo saw the resemblance to Thorin in the shape of the dwarf’s face and in the light behind his eyes.

“Come to the dining room,” was all Gandalf said before he trailed back out of the room. He wasn’t as forceful in his language as Bilbo thought he was going to be. Knowing Gandalf, Bilbo had to get used to expecting only the most unexpected.

Bilbo got up and took his time trailing to the dining room, staring down at his feet for most of the walk. He didn’t know what Gandalf thought was so important that he thought convening a meeting of the dwarves—and a man and a hobbit—would entail, especially so early in the morning, but Bilbo knew better than to guess at Gandalf’s intentions. Whatever he wanted with them, it had to be important enough to push for this gathering at all.

Bilbo walked into the dining room and saw everyone, Bard included, was sitting at the table and had their eyes on him. Nobody said a word as Bilbo took the last empty seat at the table. They all looked over to the head of the table—that was where I killed Smaug, Bilbo couldn’t stop himself from remembering—where Gandalf sat.

“I’m sorry to wake you all so early in the morning,” Gandalf started, “but I wanted to let you all know that I went to check on Thorin last night. I know you’ve all been keeping your distance from him, and he from all of you, because of the dragon sickness, but the dragon sickness is no more.”

“What do you mean? Do you mean to say he’s suddenly recovered?” Dwalin questioned.

“That is exactly what I’m saying, Dwalin,” Gandalf said. “He appears to have made a full recovery from the dragon sickness.”

“Did you and your magic have anything to do with this?” Bilbo asked, raising his voice to make sure Gandalf could hear him at the other end of the table. Bilbo didn’t know what to make of the situation. On one hand, he knew that he should be happy to hear of Thorin’s sudden recovery from the dragon sickness, but on the other hand Bilbo felt a bit skeptical and he couldn’t place why.

“So what if I did?” Gandalf said in response and he didn’t seem to broach the subject of the sudden cure anymore after that.

Of course it had been magic that would cure a magical ailment like dragon sickness. But something in him told him that he shouldn’t be too quick to believe it. He would believe it when he saw it, when he saw that his Thorin was back.

Chatter broke out among the rest of the Company.

“If Thorin’s doing better, then why isn’t he here now?” Fíli asked.

“I gave him something to make him sleep for a bit,” Gandalf said. “He’ll be out for a few hours. I wanted to tell you all the news now while he was still asleep. There will be plenty of time to see him later. He shouldn’t be out for too much longer, only a few more hours at the most, I would think.”

***

The few hours that followed turned out to be more tense than Bilbo would have expected. It turned out that he wasn’t the only one that was wary of and nervous about the Thorin awaited them when he awoke from Gandalf’s sleeping draught.

They all waited in their seats at the dining room. For the most part none of them spoke, but every now and then someone would speak up to try to lighten the mood and that would manage to distract all of them for a few minutes, but then it would be back to the state of nerves and tension again.

Bard and Gandalf left all of them alone not long after Gandalf had explained the situation to them. Every now and then Bilbo could hear their voices from the other room. Out of everyone they seemed to be the least bothered about the situation. Bilbo wanted to be angry about that, but he knew Bard had no fondness for Thorin the way the Company did. And Gandalf was Gandalf. Bilbo didn’t doubt that Gandalf cared for Thorin, but he had his own way of handling emotions like this.

Finally, everyone stopped their chatter when they saw Thorin clambering into the dining room. He was awake, but it was clear from his stumbling—he barely managed to keep his balance—that whatever remnants of Gandalf’s draught that were in his system were still wearing off, leaving him dreary as the temporary side effect for the time being.

No one spoke as they all stared at Thorin with wide eyes. No one knew what not to say, least of all Bilbo. Sitting in the chair closest to the door to the corridor made Bilbo the one sitting the closest to him. He looked up at Thorin, his heart beating faster and faster. Now he trusted that Gandalf had healed him, but what came next?

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, looking down at the hobbit after looking over the rest of the Company in a brief moment.

Still, no one else said anything. Bilbo stood, understanding that Thorin would want to speak with him in private.

Thorin led Bilbo all the way down to the study. It was the very same study where Bilbo found out that Smaug had captured Thorin and Dwalin, the very same study where Bilbo later found the Arkenstone tucked away into one of the drawers for safekeeping. To this day, Bilbo still wondered if Smaug had planted the Arkenstone there himself.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, placing his hands on the hobbits arms and looking him over again. It reminded Bilbo a lot of the first time Thorin had hugged him, when he admitted to being wrong to underestimate Bilbo’s potential. That was before Thorin had known the truth about his identity. It felt like a lifetime ago, after everything they had been through since that moment.

“Please forgive me, Bilbo. I was so wrong. Gandalf showed me what would come of my destruction if the sickness consume me. I let the sickness take over me until he used his magic to make me see the error in my ways. I can’t believe I was so weak to let it—”

“You were not weak,” Bilbo said. “You couldn’t prevent the illness. It doesn’t matter now. What matters now is that Gandalf helped you overcome it.”

“If more of us valued home over gold, this world would be a merry place. I understand that now. I was wrong to let my obsession drive me all this way here. Not that I’m unhappy to have my family home back, of course I am, but…” Thorin paused to gather his thoughts. “I hope you can forgive me.”

“I love you, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilbo looked down at his feet for a second and then raised his eyes to meet Thorin’s again. “Of course I forgive you.”

“I, I love you too, Bilbo Baggins. I’ve had a hard time accepting that fact, but I can’t deny that I feel those feelings any longer. You deserve better than someone who would try to deny that they are in love with you. I will do better than that.”

“You are already doing better,” Bilbo smiled. Bilbo couldn’t handle the distance between the two of them any longer and so he grabbed at Thorin’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. It was a long-awaited kiss, one that Thorin accepted eagerly. Their lips were warm against each other and by the time they pulled apart, it felt like the kiss hadn’t lasted nearly long enough. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

***

“It took you two long enough!” Glóin roared when Thorin and Bilbo left the study holding hands. “It’ll be time for Nori to pay up.”

“Were you all placing bets on whether Thorin and I would end up together?” Bilbo said, trying to restrain himself from laughing. Of course the Company would wager bets behind their backs.

“I heard yelling,” Dori said, running into the room. “What’s going on?” Before anyone could respond, he noticed Bilbo and Thorin’s hands interlaced and his eyes lit up. “Gandalf’s about to make a fortune.”

“Now wait a second,” Bilbo proclaimed, furrowing his brow and throwing his free hand into the air. “Gandalf was in on this too?”

“In on it?” Dori said. “It was his idea. Well, partially, at least. We all wagered bets while we were in Rivendell.”

“Rivendell? What happened in Rivendell that made you think of the idea?”

“It was more of a hunch than anything else,” Gandalf said, appearing behind Bilbo. He made his way around to stand beside the other dwarves. “But does it really matter now? It wasn’t about the money, really.” Gandalf smirked.

***

“We’re going to need to go back to the Shire,” Thorin explained to the Company over dinner that night. Bombur had prepared an elaborate feast for everyone, using up most of the stores in the kitchen, to celebrate everything. Smaug’s death, the taking back of Erebor, Thorin’s recovery… It was the first chance they had to celebrate all together with everyone in the Company present. “I want to alert my brother and sister to the death of Smaug personally. I want to do it in person so I can see the look on their faces when they find out that we can return to our childhood home.”

In the back of his mind, Bilbo understood that Thorin was going to want to stay here at the estate. After all, he spent nearly his entire adult life without his childhood home, knowing that it was in the hands of a greedy thief instead. And Bilbo didn’t know what to do. He still had his home in Bag End and he couldn’t deny that he missed his books, his maps, and his armchair in front of the hearth in his study. That was his home and this was Thorin’s.

But he didn’t want to dwell on that tonight. Tonight was a long-awaited night of celebration and he wasn’t going to let his own mood damper him.

“Will we not be able to fly?” Balin asked.

“No,” Thorin said. “I scoped the property earlier and there were no planes. All the planes we have are in Ered Luin, so we will have to travel on foot to get back, just like the way that we came. I don’t expect you all to come with me. We will fly back here on a plane, though, so from that point forward you will be able to fly back and forth as we all did in the old days.

“You all ought to stay here and enjoy the fruits of our labor. You all have a place here in this estate as much as my family does. There’s no need for you all to waste your energy following me back to Ered Luin when you could be resting here.”

“It’s alright, Thorin, you can say you just want to spend more time with Bilbo away from the rest of us,” Dwalin said and the rest of the dwarves started laughing. This laughter was booming and bounced off all the walls of the large dining room. It was a welcome change of pace, finally some semblance of continuity and contentment returning to these dwarves’ lives.

“I never denied it.” Thorin smirked, which only sparked even more laughter. This time Thorin and Bilbo both joined in on the laughter.

The rest of the evening was a merry affair until finally Thorin declared that they ought to turn in for the night, on the understanding that they would only celebrate this momentous occasion even more after he returned from Ered Luin with his kin.

***

“Thorin, can I ask you something?” Bilbo looked over at the dwarf, whose expression lit up.

“Of course.”

“Now that you’ve overcome the dragon sickness, er, would it make you feel better if you had the Arkenstone?”

Thorin paused and he looked like he was genuinely contemplating Bilbo’s question. “No, I don’t think it would. I have to assume that it’s still here in this house somewhere, so I trust that it’s safe. It’s here and since I am confident in that assertion, it matters not to me where it actually is in detail. It’s in the Durins’ estate where it belongs at the end of the day. Why do you ask?”

“No reason, just wondering.”

“Well, then, if you have nothing else you want to ask me, then you should get to sleep,” Thorin said, planting a kiss on Bilbo’s cheek. “I want to leave at dawn tomorrow so we can cover as much ground as we can.”

“Goodnight, Thorin.”

“Goodnight, Bilbo.”

Thorin went down the hall, and Bilbo knew he would soon join the dwarf for sleep that night, but not in this specific moment yet. Bilbo waited until Thorin’s footsteps faded away and there was only silence left before he acted. Once he was sure Thorin was out of earshot and would be on his way to falling asleep, Bilbo stuffed his hand into the pocket where he knew he kept the Arkenstone. He walked down the corridor until he came upon the study. He moved to the desk and stuck the Arkenstone back into the drawer where he found it.

Chapter Text

Thorin slept on Bilbo that night, his arms wrapped loosely around the hobbit, ensuring that he was close and secure against Bilbo’s body. Bilbo woke up before sunrise to realize how he was wrapped in this warmth and he smiled to himself. This felt right. This was what he had longed for so desperately throughout much of this quest, especially on those cold nights when they had to camp in rather uncomfortable places.

Bilbo felt hopeful that things were going to get better from here, though.

And he would have Thorin mostly to himself for the journey back. He had to remind himself it would be mostly to himself, since they were going to be traveling with Fíli, Kíli, and Gandalf as well, so the new couple would have to restrain themselves in front of the others. Bilbo was relieved that at least it wouldn’t be with the whole Company. He had grown quite fond of these dwarves, but still he wanted some privacy away from them to spend with Thorin. They already managed to tease the two plenty in the last day for finally getting together.

Bilbo was surprised that the festivities of the previous night were so brief. They managed to condense an entire party into one evening—at Thorin’s advice, no doubt, for he wanted to begin the journey back sooner rather than later—but Bilbo expected a longer celebration in light of, well, everything.

The farewells after breakfast were a bittersweet affair. Breakfast had been a merry affair, but everyone knew the moment was fleeting.

Everyone congregated at the front hall of the estate to see Bilbo, Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, and Gandalf off. They all said their goodbyes to Thorin one by one, embracing him with a passion Bilbo had not seen from them up to this point in the quest. They must have reserved such strong emotion for moments like this.

Finally, it was Bilbo’s turn to say his goodbyes. He didn’t know what to say. Goodbyes weren’t particularly his strong suit. He barely said goodbye to his own parents when they passed, and that was a permanent goodbye. This goodbye would only be temporary. He didn’t know when he would see these dwarves again, but he knew the time for a reunion would come sooner or later.

“Tea’s at four,” Bilbo said after taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “You’re all welcome anytime. Including you, Bard. Thank you for your hospitality. Even in the face of a bunch of stubborn dwarves, you were a gracious host and I’m sure I can speak for all of us when I say we’re grateful for your help, for without you we wouldn’t be here now.” He looked at Bard, who accepted his thanks with a grateful smile. “As for the rest of you, you’re welcome at Bag End anytime, and don’t bother knocking.”

***

The bittersweetness of the farewells washed over the men over the course of the first day of that journey. Though they were all a little sullen to be leaving Erebor so quickly, Thorin thought it important to alert his kin in Ered Luin personally of Smaug’s death. Bilbo didn’t know how much correspondence the Company maintained with Frerin and Dís about the state of their childhood home, but Bilbo assumed that they knew nothing of the state of the quest.

They set up camp at the edge of the forest. None of them wanted to go back into the forest and relive the memories they carried in there—least of all, Kíli, who was only just well enough to come on this quest. Even though Kíli was well on the mend, it took a reminder that Dís would want to see both her sons alive that convinced Thorin to let him come. They also intended for Gandalf to lead them through the forest this time. After the first time coming through, without being able to find the path, there was no way that they were going to risk anything like that again.

The first thing Bilbo noticed that the forest was a lot healthier than it had been when they first passed through. He pulled Gandalf aside while Thorin, Fíli and Kíli began to set up the camp.

“Was this your doing?” Bilbo asked, gesturing to the forest behind him. “I remember a rather dark, unwelcoming forest the last time we passed through here.”

“Oh, this, yes,” Gandalf said airily. “I suppose that in attending to the magical emergency of the others in my order, our magical efforts have healed this forest from the dark magic that long plagued it. That’s good to hear that it’s doing better now.”

Bilbo nearly jumped when he felt a warm hand from behind him settle on his shoulder after that. Thorin.

“Come on, Bilbo, the camp is ready,” Thorin said. “We all need to eat.”

Thorin prepared a reasonable portion size of the rations for everyone to share. It was a small enough portion that they would still have more food for the rest of the journey, but large enough that they weren’t starving.

They ate their rations in peaceful quiet. It was one of the few times on this whole journey where the quiet felt like it belonged, like it was welcome in the context. Normally the silence punctuated an uncomfortable situation, but it did not this time and that brought Bilbo peace. The worst of the journey was behind them. He had completed the mission he set out to do and it was all done.

After they all finished eating, Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo and planted a large kiss on his cheek. Bilbo blushed, but didn’t actually feel embarrassed about this public display of affection in front of his friends. He didn’t feel ashamed about his love for Thorin and clearly Thorin felt the same.

“Gross, get a room, Uncle,” Kíli said.

“Why don’t you go stand behind that tree over there, then?” Thorin said. “That should be good enough, don’t you think?”

“You’re lucky that we’re happy for you, Uncle,” Fíli said, “or we’d be giving you an even harder time.”

Everyone laughed, including Bilbo.

***

Gandalf led them through the forest. It was a fair enough deal considering how they had managed to lose the path the last time they went through the forest. Leave it to a wizard to make sure they were always going the right way. Thankfully they had stayed a safe distance away from the edge of Thranduil’s property so they wouldn’t have to deal with the elf. Thorin was a lot more peaceful now that the estate was back in the hands of the Durins, but that didn’t mean he cared any more for Thranduil.

When they came out on the other side of the forest, Gandalf reminded them they ought to pay Beorn a visit again. They had left their van there and, by Gandalf’s account, Beorn left it in good condition.

It was a long walk to Beorn’s house, but the skin-changer was more welcoming of their arrival onto his property this time.

“It is good to hear that Smaug is dead once and for all,” Beorn said once Thorin filled him in on the account of what had happened since their departure from his house last. “Perhaps now these lands will be more at peace now.”

“That is my hope,” Thorin said, smiling. Under the table Thorin’s hand moved to Bilbo’s, clasping it in his. Bilbo squeezed his hand back with the same enthusiasm, understanding that a more hopeful future lie ahead for all the peoples of Middle-earth with the greatest threat of recent decades suppressed after all this time.

Beorn let them all stay in his house for the night, still as hospitable as he had been the last time they were here. In the morning, Thorin did not rush everyone out the door in an attempt to hurry along on this part of the journey. Now he seemed more open to taking his time.

Once the sun was out that morning, Beorn made everyone a comprehensive breakfast. Bilbo noted the lack of tension in the air compared to when they were all here, gathered around this table, last. The burden of Smaug was lifted off everyone’s shoulders and made for a more pleasant dining experience.

When the meal was over, Bilbo wandered out to the front of Beorn’s house to appreciate Beorn’s garden again. He didn’t think he took enough time to appreciate the full scope of the garden, no matter how small it was up close. Bilbo never wanted to pass up an opportunity to appreciate such beauty. In the back of his mind, he wondered how Erebor would look if someone took the time to maintain a garden outside the house. There was so much potential growing there, something that Beorn took advantage of in the limited space he had in his cottage.

Bilbo found himself standing over the spot where he found the acorn the last time he was here, noting that in the time they were gone Beorn had not taken the time to rake out the leaves that covered the ground, but it didn’t matter to Bilbo. In fact, he liked it that way. It reminded him more of what everything was like when he was here last and when he found that acorn. He thought of Thorin and, as if on command, Thorin came out of the house.

“There you are,” Thorin said, offering a tired smile.

“I didn’t go far,” Bilbo remarked.

“Of course you would end up here. It seems like quite the place for a hobbit such as yourself.”

“It is. I bet my garden in Bag End is in complete disrepair now that I’ve been gone for so long, but I hope that I can make my garden a little more like Beorn’s garden when I get back.” Then he looked down at the leaves and Thorin’s eyes followed his. “This is where I found the acorn, you know.”

Thorin smiled wider. “And I’m sure you’ll make sure it grows into the biggest tree it can be.” He stretched his hand out to Bilbo. “Come on, I suspect Gandalf will want to get going soon while we still have the light.”

Bilbo took his hand and followed him back into the house. Fíli and Kíli were packing up their things, while Gandalf and Beorn remained seated at the table, talking among themselves.

Gandalf was relatively efficient in shuffling them all out the door once he saw that everyone was ready to go, though. As Thorin had predicted, he was eager to get going so they could cover as much ground as they could before the sun went down. They were going to have to drive south around the Misty Mountains again, and Bilbo remembered how long that took the last time, although he hoped there would be no more car troubles to slow them down along the way.

“I wish you all safe travels on the rest of your journey,” Beorn said from the doorway. “Thank you for everything you have done to protect the greater good of Middle-earth. It is refreshing to see dwarves care about the lives of others in this world that don’t necessarily concern themselves.”

Thorin nodded. “Thank you.”

They made their way to the van on the other side of Beorn’s property, parked right as they had left it. Beorn did a good job making sure it didn’t get carried away by a rogue warg or anything of the sort while they were gone. Having a skin-changer on their side was certainly a beneficial alliance.

As they began to pack their things in the van, Bilbo found his voice.

“Hey, Thorin,” he started.

“What is it?”

“It’s just, er, can I ride in the passenger’s seat this time? I was dreadfully car sick the entire time riding in the back. That one day where I rode in the passenger’s seat with you was a lot easier on my stomach.”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner? Of course you can sit up front, so long as you’re willing to help me navigate.” Thorin chuckled. “Fíli always rode in the front because nobody else wanted to do it.”

“Of course I can do that. And how could I say no to spending more time admiring you, this time from the front seat?”

Bilbo heard Fíli and Kíli pretending to gag behind him. Bilbo and Thorin laughed.

Chapter Text

The days that followed were some of the most peaceful Bilbo felt in his life. Everything felt like it was falling into place with Thorin by his side in the driver’s seat in the van, and Fíli, Kíli, and Gandalf all in the back. Bilbo was surprised that Gandalf wanted to ride in the van with them for this part of the journey back. He thought back to Gandalf’s comment at the beginning of the quest that he “had his own ways of traveling” and, looking back, Bilbo supposed that was merely an excuse for him to use magic to travel so he wouldn’t have to be crammed into the back with a bunch of dwarves. Bilbo only tolerated it for so long because he was small enough, but Gandalf was certainly too big for that.

Everyone was so pleasant and beaming on the whole drive back to the Shire that Bilbo had managed to forget that this was only temporary. He only jogged his memory when Gandalf mentioned looking at a room in the Green Dragon for him, Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli.

“No, no, you’ve come all this way, you’re all going to stay with me in Bag End!” Bilbo insisted.

***

Bilbo was in for an unpleasant surprise when he returned to Bag End. The other hobbits had presumed him dead, and Bilbo returned to the Shire just in time to see them begin to auction off his belongings. It was a miracle, really, that he arrived just in time to put a stop to it before Lobelia Sackville-Baggins tried to make off with his silverware. Bilbo was not surprised to see she was the first one in the line of hobbits, ready to place her bid on whatever she could carry in her hands on the walk back to her house. A lot may have changed in the world since Bilbo last set foot in the Shire, but one thing that stayed very much the same was the Sackville-Baggins’ eyes on Bilbo’s inheritance.

“Who are you?” The auctioneer asked when Bilbo made it to the front of the line.

“Who am I?” Bilbo hissed. “I’m Bilbo Baggins and this is my house, and this is my stuff you’re trying to sell off!”

“Bilbo Baggins has been pronounced dead,” the auctioneer said in a flat voice.

“I’m not dead,” Bilbo said. Turning to his cousin, he added, “And you know very well who I am, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins!”

“Well, do you have any sort of proof?”

“Proof?” Gandalf asked. Bilbo jumped. He had been so absorbed in trying to figure out what was going on that he forgot Gandalf was still with them.

“Like a signature, anything of the sort, really.”

Bilbo sighed, reaching into his bag. At the bottom of the bag he pulled out the contract that he signed that fateful day when he left Bag End. Truthfully, he had not looked at it since his signature was verified over the table at the Green Dragon before Thorin whisked him out of the Shire to Ered Luin. It was crumpled from being buried at the bottom of the rucksack for so long, but other than that the condition was acceptable. He pulled it out and showed the auctioneer his signature.

“See, right there, Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo said.

The auctioneer looked at the signature as if he could verify its legitimacy. “Alright, then. Might I ask, who is this Thorin Oakenshield?”

“That would be me,” Thorin said, moving to Bilbo’s side and putting a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “He has been with me this entire time he’s been gone and I can just as much verify he’s still alive as can Gandalf here.”

“I suppose that’s all in order then,” the auctioneer said. In a louder voice, he addressed the hobbits in line: “The auction is off! Bilbo Baggins is not dead!”

Bilbo sighed again as the hobbits all began to trail away upon the cancellation of the auction. Thorin took Bilbo’s hand as he made his way up the stairs to the front door, reminding him that he was not alone. Bilbo paused on the porch, looking around, recalling where he sat in his favorite chair when he had first encountered Gandalf that fateful, gloomy Tuesday morning.

Being back in Bag End now felt a lot different from that night he first met these dwarves. It was a special feeling now, really, to be surrounded by those he loved in this place he had made into his own home.

“You really should stay a little longer,” Bilbo told Thorin after Fíli and Kíli had gone to sleep. Bilbo let Thorin stay in his room, which Thorin had not seen the last time he was here. Thorin kept looking around, curious about the detailing of Bilbo’s room. It was rather eclectic by a dwarf’s standards, since they preferred a much more rustic touch, but quite normal for a hobbit. Thorin found that fascinating.

“I need to see my brother and sister,” Thorin said. “We’re going to come back through the Shire, though, so we’ll see each other again soon. Why don’t you want to come with us?”

Bilbo cupped Thorin’s face in his hand. “It’s not that I don’t want to come. I do. You know I’d love to see Frerin and Dís again, but I need to settle down in Bag End for the time being. It’s been so long since I was here last and so much has changed both in the world and in my own life. I can’t shake the feeling that everything is so different here now. Besides, that drive up to Ered Luin was pretty brutal for me last time and I don’t think even the passenger’s seat can save me from at least some motion sickness.”

Thorin smiled. “Fair enough. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They shared a kiss and then they settled into bed. They didn’t plan to sleep soon. This was the most privacy they had this entire quest and they wanted to spend it enjoying each other’s company, not just sleeping through all of it.

***

Thorin and his nephews left Bag End by midday. Thorin and Bilbo shared a particularly passionate kiss before they parted ways and, for once, Fíli and Kíli didn’t pretend to have a visceral reaction for the sake of a quick laugh.

“I love you, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo whispered, his hands pressed against Thorin’s chest.

“And I love you, too, Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin whispered back, his hands on Bilbo’s waist. “I’ll see you again soon. Until then I’ll be thinking about you.”

And with that, they left. Only Bilbo and Gandalf were at Bag End now.

“Do you want some tea, Gandalf?” Bilbo asked, looking up at the wizard by his side. “It’s almost elevenses.”

“Of course,” Gandalf said and the two headed back into the house.

Gandalf stayed for tea but no longer than that. He insisted on taking a room at the Green Dragon Inn from there on out so Bilbo could have his time to himself to readjust to his old life in Bag End.

It had been strange for Bilbo to think of his life at Bag End, the quiet, simpler life he had made for himself after his parents’ death, as “an old life,” much like he had thought of his youth, back when he was still training to be an assassin and he lived in a lovely house with his living parents. He supposed Gandalf was right, though. He was not the same hobbit he had been when three dwarves and a wizard appeared on his doorway, demanding to drag him across Middle-earth on a quest he wanted no part in.

And now he had killed. He had lived up to the rigorous assassin training his mother put him through as a child. Even though it was only just the one killing, he still lived up to it. But in his heart he also knew the killing would stay with him forever. He had barely been a part of the assassin world since he refused to take up the challenge for all of his adult life until now, but it was time he officially retire from it all.

During this uncertain amount of time alone, he wanted to revisit his study. Standing in the doorway of the room, memories flooded his mind of the first night when he met Thorin, when he escaped to this room to avoid having to deal with the three dwarves he didn’t know ransacking his kitchen. This was where he went to sit in front of the fire to avoid thinking about what he knew Gandalf had in store for him. And did Gandalf end up having more in store for him that he ever thought he was going to bargain for. It was strange to stop and soak up this moment and think about just how much had changed since that first night, but through and through Bilbo still felt the same fondness for this study that he felt all along. That much had not changed, even though so much about him made for quite the changed hobbit.

And then the next stop in the house he made was to the storage room that had once been the studio where he learned to be an assassin. The very same room where he had lost his father too many years ago to count anymore.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in this room. There were a lot of boxes stacked against the walls but he couldn’t even remember what was in any of them. He didn’t know what change of heart drove him to go into this room and start digging through the boxes to see what he could find, but that was what he felt like doing, so he did it. The first few boxes he went through were filled with random things he had accumulated over the years but refused to part with. It wasn’t stuff that reminded him of his family; it was stuff he bought after their deaths that he thought he would like, only for it to end up in this overflow storage for years on end.

At the bottom of the third box Bilbo found a picture of him with his mother and father. He didn’t remember when it had been taken exactly, but he knew it was within a year of his father’s death. He looked like a young adult in this picture and Bilbo hadn’t realized the full extent of how much he had grown up until he sat here, looking at this picture of his younger self, the younger self who had no idea what was in store for any of his future. There was something peaceful about looking at this, a mere frozen moment in time where the three of them were all happy. Knowing what he knew now, Bilbo felt at peace with that. This was the first time he wasn’t upset thinking about his parents because he was starting to finally feel some closure around their deaths.

***

Three days passed. On each of those days, Gandalf stopped by at some point in the day to check in on Bilbo. It was comforting to have someone so familiar staying by his side now, but also giving him some space, especially with Thorin gone to Ered Luin. He was going to come back and see Bilbo again, but it frustrated Bilbo a bit to not know when he would see Thorin again. But he couldn’t be mad at Thorin for that. Thorin had been through enough with this quest. He deserved as much time as he wanted to spend with his kin in peace.

Bilbo tried to fill his days revisiting his books and maps in his study, starting with the ones he had left sprawled out on his desk before he left. If he had known that they were going to sit out on his desk for months and months, he would have closed them up and put them back in their place on the shelf, but it was a lucky break that they were all still in good condition. Though he tried his best, he could not find the will to focus for more than minutes at a time, and that was in the best of scenarios. Sometimes he would sit down and barely be able to read past the first sentence before his mind began to wander. It was going to take some time for him to adjust back into this routine, it seemed.

On the fourth day, Bilbo was starting to get back into the hang of reading when the doorbell rang, pulling him out of his concentration. It must have been Gandalf again, here to check up on how he was doing. At least today he had this little bit of positive news to report to the wizard. He was starting to get his focus back.

But it was not Gandalf who was at the door.

“Thorin!” Bilbo yelped. “W-what are you doing here?” Why are you here alone?

“We just came down from Ered Luin this morning,” Thorin said. “May I come in?”

“Oh! Yes, of course!” Bilbo stepped aside to let Thorin in. He closed the door and then got on his toes to plant a kiss on Thorin’s cheek. Thorin unfastened his coat and placed it onto the coat hanger by the door.

“We’re going to take a few days to explore the Shire,” Thorin said. “Would you like to show us around? We would all love to hear about this place from a hobbit’s perspective.”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. Dís and Frerin were adamant about making reservations at the Green Dragon. They said I could stay here if you would let me, but they think you’ve done enough for us and they didn’t want to impose any more on you.”

“It’s no burden at all,” Bilbo said, “but you are absolutely going to stay here with me.” Bilbo went in for another kiss.

“There was more I wanted to ask of you…” Thorin’s voice trailed off. Why did he sound nervous?

“What is it?” Bilbo took Thorin’s hands, which he realized were now shaking. Whatever he wanted to say, he really was nervous…

“I’ve been thinking since we left for Ered Luin, but really it’s been on my mind since Erebor. I’m the rightful heir of Erebor since my father and grandfather are dead, but Dís and Frerin are my siblings and so they can claim ownership of the estate as well. I was thinking of…passing it onto them. They would not say no if I asked that of them.”

“Why would you do that?” Bilbo asked, though not in a defensive way. He genuinely wondered. “You came all this way—”

“I know, but… I would rather stay here with you. If you want to stay here, too, that is. I shouldn’t assume that I know what you want.”

Bilbo swallowed. All this time, he wouldn’t allow himself to think of the prospect of Thorin leaving Bilbo in the Shire to return to Erebor to run his rightfully-earned estate. It was his birthright, after all. It was the thing that stopped Thorin from telling Bilbo of his feelings sooner. Bilbo would not have found out of Thorin’s feelings at Lake-town had it not been for that conversation he overheard, the one where Thorin revealed these insecurities.

But now… Now he was willing to put it all aside because his love for Bilbo was stronger than his ambition. He was willing to give it all up just for one hobbit.

“Thorin…”

“I won’t force you to let me stay here,” Thorin said, “but I am in love with you, Bilbo, and it would be my greatest honor to be able to spend the rest of my life with you here. In falling in love with you I realized there’s something so comforting that I love about the Shire and I would like to stay here to get to know it a little longer if you let me.”

“Of course I’m going to let you stay. I love you so much.”

Chapter Text

Bilbo and Thorin married in a quiet ceremony in Erebor not long after their initial return to Bag End. And by quiet, that meant the entire Company had been present, clamoring for a massive celebration. The celebration stretched on for days. Bilbo thought hobbits were some of the best partiers in Middle-earth, but his own wedding certainly challenged that perspective.

Not long after Smaug’s death and Thorin’s decision to remain in Bag End, he passed on the deed for the estate to his younger siblings. They both rose to the challenge of maintaining the estate and the mines that came with it marvelously. Thorin was shocked that Dís in particular had a knack for this kind of leadership, so much so that Thorin thought she should have been the heir all along. Everyone trusted Dís and Frerin with their lives, so it was a good arrangement for all parties involved. Thorin felt a lot better about leaving Erebor behind knowing it was going to be kept in good hands and Bilbo was happy that it all worked out in the end for all of them.

A decade passed since the death of Smaug. Bilbo and Thorin settled into a pleasant life of retirement at Bag End. Bilbo had never felt quite as home at Bag End as he had once Thorin came to live with him. He wouldn’t admit that to Thorin though. He couldn’t bear the idea of a lifetime of teasing for it; Thorin would never let him live it down.

Having Thorin by his side just felt right though. The two of them never quite fit into Hobbiton—and Bilbo in particular seemed to be ostracized from his own hometown—but neither of them cared. No matter what the other hobbits thought of them or such an unconventional marriage—even after ten years, sometimes when they went into town they would still hear hobbits whispering amongst themselves about the oddity of a marriage between a hobbit and a dwarf—neither of them cared because they still had each other through all of it.

In the months and years following the wedding, Gandalf came around to the Shire a lot more, and every time Bilbo and Thorin welcomed him around as their guest for afternoon tea.

Meanwhile in Erebor, the rest of the dwarves helped Dís and Frerin keep the mines running and now it was prospering even more than it did in the old days before Smaug. Bilbo and Thorin made the trip out east to visit the rest of the Company at least once every couple of months. They would drive to Ered Luin and fly out of Ered Luin to Erebor, since it was much more efficient than taking the long journey by land to the east. Sometimes they missed the intimacy a journey like that afforded, but they were getting too old for the demands of a trip of that scale. Besides, it was good to keep driving up and down Ered Luin regularly because it had managed to help Bilbo start overcoming his persistent car sickness.

It was a a lovely spring day when they were returning to the Shire from their most recent trip to Erebor. They flew out of Erebor into Ered Luin early in the morning, so early that Bilbo watched the sunrise from his window seat in the plane. He recalled the sky was a satisfying shade of light purple.

After all these years, Thorin still drove the same white van that had carried the entire Company across Middle-earth. On this day he drove it all the way down from Ered Luin and parked it in his usual spot beside Bag End, where he always left it. And that was another completed trip there and back again. This trip was particularly special because Dís had been training Fíli and Kíli, but mostly Fíli, as the older of the two, to take her place as the head of Erebor at some point in the future so Thorin and Bilbo got to see what progress the two had made in learning. She still had a lot of years left in her, but she was nearing retiring age as the years passed. Maybe it was because she was tempted into it by seeing how her brother lived with his husband in the Shire. Neither Bilbo or Thorin could blame her for that. Their life was relatively calm in comparison to the business of Erebor.

And it helped that the quest made Fíli and Kíli into strong men. Dís always made sure to constantly remind Thorin of this fact because she was proud of how much they had managed to grow during the journey. They were still the same Fíli and Kíli she knew, of course, but they were a little wiser and a lot more agile now, too. At their core, though, they were still the very same Fíli and Kíli they all knew.

“I always love visiting Erebor, but it’s always great to be back here,” Bilbo said, looking at the house from the side. Though he was less carsick these days, he still preferred to not drive. Thorin was content to take care of all the driving for the two of them.

***

Bilbo and Thorin gave themselves a few days to settle back into Bag End, as they did at the end of every trip to Erebor. Though they made the trip to Erebor regularly enough that they made a routine out of it, they always liked to take some time after returning home to recuperate from the jet lag, if nothing else. They were older than they were when they reclaimed Erebor and so they needed more time to rest and recover their strength.

A week passed in relative normalcy for the couple. Then Bilbo received a letter in the mail from one of his cousins. This was the way he received correspondence from his distant relatives; it was not often that they came around to speak to him in person. Everyone thought him a bit eccentric since he let a dwarf move in with him and that he married that same dwarf.

“What is the matter?” Thorin asked, seeing Bilbo’s face falling as he read through the message.

“My cousin Drogo and his wife Primula died in a boating accident recently,” Bilbo said. “They had a rather young son, who’s now staying with his mother’s family in Brandy Hall, but they only want that to be a temporary arrangement. He’s such a young boy, they think it would be better if another family member took him in. It would be good for him, especially as he grows into a tween. Many of my cousins already have plenty of children of their own so they wouldn’t be able to give him their undivided attention.” Bilbo looked up at Thorin to gauge his reaction. Bilbo had gotten so much better at reading Thorin as the years passed. He already knew what Thorin was thinking. “Well, what do you think? Do you want to adopt a young hobbit?”

“Yes,” Thorin said. “I would like that. What about you?”

Bilbo smiled. “I think I’m quite ready for another adventure.”