Chapter Text
Bilba Baggins died on a cold hilltop, late in the autumn of the year 2941.
It would take decades for her body to catch up to that fact.
After what felt like a lifetime of throwing herself into the arms of every battle and fight that came her way, the end finally came, as it so often seemed to do, unexpectedly. It wasn't in a battle, it didn't happen during some grand struggle against an unstoppable foe, there were no innocents standing by, waiting with bated breath for her to save them.
She’d simply stopped for lunch.
The weather was in the process of turning from winter to spring, leaving the day pleasantly warm but with a slight bite to the air that tried, unsuccessfully, to cut through her leather armor, or lift one of the strands of auburn hair she kept cut short and swept back from her face.
Once, in another lifetime, she'd have greeted the day from the comfort of her own bed, nestled within the halls of a home that had been important to her for reasons she could no longer remember. She'd have probably stayed abed for a time, before getting up to make a pot of tea to enjoy on the bench at the foot of her walkway.
So much time she'd wasted then, as if the hours of her life were infinite and could simply be squandered at will, without care.
Without consequence.
Now, she awoke in a bedroll, before the sun rose, body attuned to the time as accurately as if she still carried a pocket watch, already mentally preparing for the routine she'd repeated day after day, year after year. Wake up, eat, pack up and set out, always moving, trekking along invisible paths and trails established in her mind from years of traveling them.
Paths that forever led away, but rarely ever to, anything.
Once the sun was directly overhead, she found a quiet clearing and stopped to rest. She prepared a cold meal and ate it in silence, idly listening to the rustle of the breeze in the trees, the quiet chirrups and trills of birds and the faint sound of animals moving through the brush.
She hadn't traveled this area in a few years and, while she had a general idea of where she was, an exact location was lost to her. It didn't particularly matter, in the end. All that mattered was that it was isolated, and there wasn't a mountain in sight.
She’d loved the mountains once or was pretty sure she had. That had been so long ago, however, it felt like little more than a dream had by a stranger.
Nowadays, she couldn't stomach the sight of them and made sure any route she took allowed her to avoid them, entirely if possible.
In hindsight, it wasn't the best idea she'd ever had. She should have spread her travels out, gone further, stayed longer, moved in different directions.
Should have, could have, would have.
Didn’t.
She'd finished her meal and began to pack up, her mind nearly entering a trance as she repeated actions she'd done a thousand times before, when she heard the distinct sound of approaching hoofbeats. Several horses, her mind corrected after a moment, coming straight toward her.
And they were far closer than they should have been able to get without her having already heard them.
Biting back an oath, Bilba quickly gathered up the last remnants of her meal, and then grabbed her pack and gear. Staying low, she ran toward the edge of the small clearing she'd stopped in and took up refuge behind the trunk of a large tree.
Once safely behind it, she carefully dropped to one knee and drew out the twin blades strapped crossways to her back. The short swords had seen her through many a battle in the past and showed it with pits and chips from repeated use and long stretches between repairs. She wasn't their original owner, but she'd fought with them long enough that they almost felt like extensions of her own body, her grip on them as natural as if she were holding a fork or spoon.
If whoever was coming had somehow spotted her earlier, and thought her an easy target, they would soon find out they were wrong. Very wrong.
From the other side of the tree, the hoofbeats entered the clearing, and came to a stop. Bilba held her breath, waiting for the sound of voices, the noise of a camp being set up, a challenge. Anything.
She heard nothing.
She frowned, and her mood darkened. This was the sort of stunt Gandalf would pull, she thought in irritation. She rarely saw him and had made a point of avoiding him all together over the last ten or fifteen years. That was when he'd started getting nosey, questioning why it was she didn't seem to be aging, why she still looked, and felt, as young and healthy as she had all those years ago when he'd first approached her and asked her on an adventure that would end in her heart being split in two.
She didn't know why she wasn't getting older. Maybe it was a curse, punishment for her uselessness the one time it had mattered. Maybe the Valar had condemned her to wander the earth, ensuring the peace and happiness of others while forever denying it to her.
She no longer cared.
It was what it was, just one more thing in a long list of things she had no control over, no chance of changing no matter how hard she tried.
There was still no sound from around the tree and Bilba bit back a sigh. She was going to have to look, and without knowing who was there, how many or where exactly they were. Anyone else might have felt fear, or at least worry.
Bilba was annoyed.
She took a breath and, as slowly as possible, leaned forward to put one hand, and the sword in it, on the ground. She then lowered herself down, until blades of grass pressed against her chin and she could feel the hard grit of the forest floor pressing against her armor.
She braced her feet and moved to lie nearly flat on the ground, until she could peer around the edge of the trunk.
There were no fewer than seven figures in the clearing, seated upon coal black horses, so utterly still they might as well have been carved from stone. From what she could tell, they were Men, but that was as far as it went, for they wore heavy cloaks that covered them head to toe, leaving little more than black shadows where their faces should have been.
Their hands, where they gripped the reins, were covered by armor and a dark aura seemed to surround them, to the point Bilba could swear the light itself fled from them.
Not people she wanted to meet then.
One of them, a few feet ahead of the others, lifted its head and... appeared to be sniffing?
Bilba tensed and, as carefully as before, pulled back behind the tree again. She eased into a crouch and turned, intending to make her escape as quickly and quietly as possible.
That was her plan anyway, and it might even have worked if she hadn't turned to find two more black clad figures, mounted on horses right behind her.
For several seconds, Bilba simply stared at them in disbelief. There was no way, simply no way they could have snuck up on her, not on horses for Yavanna's sake. So how --
"Shire," The word was hissed out, like a snake given voice, issuing from the cowl of the creature nearest her. And it was a creature, of that she was becoming more and more convinced with every passing second. "Baggins."
Cold raced through her and, for the first time in a long time, genuine dread and fear seized her heart.
They were looking for her. They hadn't just stumbled upon her, hadn't just happened to show up in the same clearing she was in. They had been specifically looking for her and, somehow, someway, against all odds, they had found her.
She ran.
There was no fighting them, didn't even have to question it. They were mounted, and armored, and there were nine of the damn things.
So she ran, bursting through the small gap between the two horses and out the far side. She knew it was futile, that she was delaying the inevitable, but still she tried and, really, what did that say about her? So reckless, so quick to throw herself into danger and yet, when faced with certain death, what did she do? She tried to avoid it.
Maybe it was because she knew it was what he would have wanted, had he still been around to want anything.
Maybe it was because, in the end, she was afraid of facing him in the afterlife, afraid of hearing him blame her for letting him march into the arms of death when she'd had the means of saving him and had failed to use it.
Or maybe, in the end, she was simply afraid.
A heavy blow hit her in the back, followed immediately by a burst of white hot, blinding agony. It scorched through her, froze her limbs and stole her breath away.
She hit the ground hard, gasping uselessly as the pain blistered along her nerves, causing the muscles in her back to spasm and cramp. Her fingers dug into the dirt, and she almost threw up from the pain she felt deep inside her back, burning, tearing. Something scraped against her spine and she let out a gasp.
It happened so easily, so quick that, for a second, she didn't register what happened. Who knew a sword could pass so easily through a person's body?
Almost without any effort at all.
His eyes had widened, and he'd let out a gasp she'd heard all the way from where she'd been standing, watching in horror. That was all. Not a scream, or a cry of pain. Just a single, quiet...gasp.
She'd wondered later why. Why just a gasp?
Why hadn't he screamed?
Now she knew.
It was because the pain was so intense it stole your breath away.
Blades of grass brushed against her mouth and face as she struggled to drag air into what was at least one ruined lung. Her chest felt heavy and liquid was burbling up her throat, threatening to choke her. Each attempt to breathe felt like she was trying to suck air through a narrow tube. A horrible, grating noise sounded in her ear and it took a few seconds to realize it was coming from her.
The clank of armor, and then the sword was being yanked out in one, quick motion. Bilba made a strangled noise, black eating at the corners of her vision. Cold ran through her, spreading out from her center until her entire body was shivering, even as she felt sweat prickling on her brow.
The toe of a metal boot slid under her ribs and easily flipped her over, onto her back. Bilba arched, mouth open soundlessly as the injury to her back impacted the ground, dirt and small rocks digging into the torn flesh. She could feel the wetness soaking through the back of her shirt, sliding down into the waistband of her trousers. The creature's weapons had passed through her armor so easily she might as well have not been wearing it.
The sun still shone over her head, burning merrily in a bright blue sky and the rapidly vanishing bits of her consciousness wondered how a day could go from so pleasant to so awful in so short a span of time. How the sun could continue to shine when such atrocities were committed under it.
She'd wondered it back then too.
Shadows stood over her, darker than her rapidly dimming vision, and she realized the creatures were there, gathered around her. One of them knelt and what felt like ice was suddenly pulling away her cuirass and rummaging in the buttoned pocket of her shirt.
The ring, her mind supplied dully. They were after that damn ring.
She'd picked it up ages ago, back before everything had fallen apart. She had no idea why she'd kept it all these years, why she was so careful to always carry it on her person. She'd never put it on after that first time, could barely stomach looking at it when, every time she did, it seemed to condemn her for not using it when it had really mattered.
She'd forgotten it was there, never even considered using it to try and escape.
That was fitting, she supposed. It didn't seem right to use it to save her own life when she'd failed to use it to save his.
The creatures were standing up again.
She didn't hurt anymore.
Her body felt heavy, so incredibly heavy, and she was just so tired. She lacked the energy, or even the desire, to move.
As if from a far-off place, Bilba watched as one of creatures drew a sword from somewhere under its cloak.
Unnecessary, her mind whispered. It would probably take longer for them to stab her again than it would for her to simply die from the first attack.
At least she'd get to see him again, finally.
Would he condemn her?
Welcome her?
Would he even care? They'd spent so much time together but, in the end, it had been so small a piece of the longer tapestry that had comprised his life, or hers for that matter. He stood large in her mind, occupying her happiest memories, and most bitter regrets, but had it been the same for him?
With the last of her vision, she saw the creature raise the sword over its head. A strange peace flowed through her. It had been so long. So long she'd carried this weight. It would be nice to put it down. To go where she ultimately belonged. Where so many had gone on ahead of her. Her mother, her father, friends and relatives....
Him.
For better or worse, if he accepted her or rejected her, she would see him once more, watch his eyes light up when he smiled, see the way he rolled his eyes at his brother's antics, rejoice in the way his presence lit up an entire room when he entered.
She'd been on her own long enough.
Her eyes slid closed --
And opened again in Bag End.