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Chapter Text

Bilbo’s Dwarves were being far too loud. Granted, they were enjoying the last bit of calm before the metaphorical storm would hit. Before Gandalf had told him this, he was hissing at everyone to quieten down before Orcs discovered their campsite. This whole evening had started when Dwalin pushed Bofur into a creek, claiming he smelled of, ‘Warg shite’. This snowballed into an Every-Dwarf-And-Hobbit-For-Himself water battle, which later transitioned into loud storytelling and singing around the campfire as the Company stripped off their sodden clothes to dry.

‘Oh well, at least I don’t have any socks to dry out.’ Bilbo thought as Bofur finished his tale. It was about a lonely undead maiden dressed in white who wandered the coastline of a giant lake. She would steal young children who dared to venture away from their families and sacrifice them to appeal to the Ancients so they could let her be at peace.

“That wasn’t a very nice story, Bofur.” Kili whined as the aforementioned Dwarf concluded the story.

“Hey, don’t blame me! I’ll have you know this folktale has been in my family for many generations!” Bofur retorted, crossing his arms defensively in front of his chest.

“Say, Bilbo, you haven’t shared a story or song yet, why don’t you give it a shot?” Dori piped up seemingly from nowhere. The others murmured their assent

“Indeed I haven’t, and frankly, I don’t particularly want to.” The Hobbit huffed, still irritated from the noise level. ‘Orcs may be dumb, but they have better ears than Dwarves or Men, that’s for sure.’

“Tell you what, Master Baggins,” Thorin (of all people) started, “if you participate in the campfire storytelling, I’ll make everyone go to sleep. Do we have a deal?” Bilbo jumped at the opportunity.

“I believe we do, Master Oakenshield. Goodness me, the lengths I must go to for some peace and quiet these days!” The Hobbit grouched as the Company chortled at his expense. “I can’t think of a story to tell, so I will need a topic or an idea.”

“Why don’t you sing a song, old friend?” Gandalf said as he puffed on his pipe.

“That’s a lovely idea, Tharkun!” Ori said excitedly. “We overheard you singing in back Rivendell, we were on our way to bed you see.”

“Dwalin cried!” Kili shouted over the fire. The Dwalin jumped up and lunged at him.

“LIES! Don’t listen to him! Come here you little bugger, I’ll wring yer neck with my bare hands!” As the two Dwarves tussled on the ground, Bilbo noticed that Dori and Fili were exchanging coins.

‘Typical Dwarves…’

“Alright everyone, listen up!” The Hobbit called. “This song was used as a rallying cry in the War of Wrath. These words have been long forgotten by historians and descendants alike, so listen, and listen well, for I shall not repeat myself.” Once Bilbo was sure he had everyone’s attention, he took a deep breath and began to sing.

“In nocte

Tenere spiritum nostrum sumus

Exspectantes signum

Ita ut manibus meis

Et oculos tuos

Non est celare nihil

Atque utinam nostri angeli exaltatus fueris

Parati ad bellum

Cor meum tuum est

Iter enim introduces

Et sagitta volat

Nostra perit aquilae

Sed oriri voces nostras

Sit scriptor studio venandi lassus est Sol in sua inferna

Phoenix sunt corda nostra et in ortu flammae

Sit scriptor semine caeli siderum

Libare nomina noctem

Fiat lux noctem

Fiat lux noctem

Fiat lux noctem

Fiat lux noctem

Hic ager ipsosque rupto

De somniorum confringetur

Vultus enim ad lucem,

Nos gluten ossa nostra

Et invenies spem nostram

Non est celare nihil

Atque utinam nostri angeli exaltatus fueris

Parati ad bellum

Cor meum tuum est

Iter enim introduces

Et sagitta volat

Nostra perit aquilae

Sed oriri voces nostras

Sit scriptor studio venandi lassus est Sol in sua inferna

Phoenix sunt corda nostra et in ortu flammae

Sit scriptor semine caeli siderum

Libare nomina noctem

Fiat lux noctem

Fiat lux noctem

Fiat lux noctem

Fiat lux noctem

Vestri Pugnator sit tu scis qui es et non sum turbatus,

Non ergo fugiendum

Quia fortes estis et vos can sumo eam

Non fugit ne fugite

Si ceciderit ibi erit et capere non

Et exspectabo Et ego expectabo

Quod suus non videtis me

Et salvum facere quod ille non sum

Et salvabo vos

Yeah ego salvum te quoque

Ego salvum te

Sit scriptor studio venandi lassus est Sol in sua inferna

Phoenix sunt corda nostra et in ortu flammae

Sit scriptor semine caeli siderum

Libare nomina noctem

Fiat lux noctem

Fiat lux noctem

Fiat lux noctem

Fiat lux noctem.”

Deafening silence was all that followed. Even the forest made no noise. Everyone present (save the Hobbit himself) was transfixed by the performance, even the fire had swelled, seeming to respond to the ancient words.

“Well then,” Bilbo clapped his hands awkwardly, dispelling the glazed look in his Dwarves eyes. “if it’s all the same to you, I’m off to bed, and you should be too.” The Hobbit curled up on his bedroll and fell asleep almost instantly. If he stayed awake just a little longer, however, he might have caught the amazed and shocked looks on everyone’s faces as they followed his lead and went to bed. Gandalf took his post and watched for danger as the Company slept.

________

The next day had the Company heading East once more. They had stopped for a quick lunch by a river that ran through an expansive meadow with rolling hills and warm sunlight. Bilbo sighed as he watched a large flock of birds swoop over the landscape. The flock moved as one creature, twisting in the sky, looking almost like a blanket that blocked the sunlight. ‘Starlings.’ He thought absently. The birds reminded him of his long lost love, who he had not thought of in nearly five centuries. Bilbo felt immense guilt for not paying more thought to her, as she had been the single most precious thing in his life until she had passed. The Hobbit was old, however, and he understood that even Soulmates cannot last forever. Bilbo learnt this the hard way, and the ache in his heart has still painful even after thousands of years without her by his side.

He heard laughter behind him and looked over his shoulder. The boys were messing with Dwalin again. They had tied a pretty bow using a few reeds from a nearby river onto his axes. Needless to say, the warrior was not impressed and was currently chasing Fili and Kili around with one of his beautified battle axes. Bilbo absently rubbed at his chest as he felt the near constant ache lessen somewhat. He smiled to himself and turned his attention back to his conversation with Balin. The old Dwarf was curious about the birds. Bilbo gladly told him all he could about the starling flock that was slowly meandering its way towards the Misty Mountains.

Chapter Text

*Twelve Months Later*

Bilbo hissed aloud from his perch on the edge of a cliff as he watched Azog prowl the forest in search of his Dwarves.

‘Dear Eru, I despise those Orcs!’ the Hobbit thought to himself as he watched the pack move swiftly through the trees. ‘They are getting awfully close though, a Warg must have picked up our scent. I’ll head back to the Company and inform them.’ He decided just as a hulking black figure emerged from the trees. Bilbo froze at the sight of the unnaturally large bear glaring at the Orcs. Something about it was eerily familiar… but he couldn’t quite place it. ‘Oh well, I’ll ask Gandalf.’

After a short run, the Hobbit slid down some shale into the little crevice the Company had hidden away in, his tough feet preventing any shards of rock from cutting him.

“Well?” Thorin asked expectantly.

“They’re close, a couple of leagues give or take.”

“That’s not good,” Kili mutters.

“Agreed.” Bilbo concurs. “But there’s something else out ther-“

“Were you spotted?!” Gandalf whisper-yells with wide eyes.

“Wha- no, you old coot, of course not! Who do you take me for? A Proudfoot!?” The Hobbit hisses, scowling at the Istar. “And before I was so rudely interrupted, I was about to say that there’s something else out there hunting the Orcs!”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, it’ll save us the trouble doing it ourselves…” Dwalin mumbled as he absent mindedly tightened the straps on his armor.

“That also means, dear brother, that whatever is hunting Azog is also quite capable of hunting us.” Balin said. Dwalin merely grunted in response.

“It was a giant bear, Gandalf, taller at it’s shoulder than even you!” The Hobbit informed the wizard, who hummed in thought.

“I know of someone who may help us escape Azog’s clutches, for the time being at least.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let us make haste!” Dori’s order snapped everyone into the now familiar motions of packing up camp.

“Is this person friend or foe?” Thorin asked the Istar surreptitiously.

“Neither.” Gandalf replied matter-of-factly. “He will either help us, or he will kill us.”

“What choice do we have?” Asked Fili.

“None.” Bilbo replied gravely.

________

Everyone in the Company was huffing and panting as they ran for what felt like hours, all of them covered in sweat and grime. Bilbo was unlucky enough to be downwind of twelve sweaty Dwarves who hadn’t bathed in over a week. His nose remained wrinkled for most of the trip to this mysterious host that Gandalf had spoken of. However, as the Company passed into a meadow he scented a Man (a very strange Man if his nose was to be trusted), and that same bear from the cliff (it had the same strangeness to it).

All thoughts of the bear and the Man were dashed from Bilbo’s mind as his hearing managed to pick up the distant noise of Warg paws thundering through the trees. He was about to warn the group of Azog’s proximity when a set of heavy footsteps seemed to… chase the Orc pack off? Bilbo frowned and informed Gandalf quietly.

“How is that bear letting a Man live in it’s territory, it doesn’t make sense!”

“All in good time, old friend.” Gandalf replied serenely, almost as if he hadn’t been running for the past 3 hours.

“Stop trying to be interesting and tell me what you know!” Bilbo hissed, drawing the attention of Bombur, who had fallen behind the group slightly. Just as the Hobbit was about to continue his attempt of wringing information out of the Istar, the Company broke through the tree line of a large open meadow with a massive wooden house in the center. The wall around the perimeter of the dwelling reminded Bilbo of the wall in Bree that kept beasts out of town and in the forest where they belonged.

A furious bellow sounded from the tree line the Company passed just thirty seconds prior. Bofur whipped his head around in time to see the strange bear from before knocking down several trees as it bounded over the fallen logs.

“TO THE HOUSE”

“Pick up the pace! That beast is on our tails!” he cried. Bofur’s shout spurred everyone else into a dead sprint with Bombur (surprisingly) leading the way. Eru knows how he got from the back of the group all the way to the front in such a short time frame. The Company burst through the gates and rushed to the massive front door, pounding the wood and shouting for the owner to let them in. Five seconds of furious knocking later, Thorin decided to take his chances with a potentially angry Man rather than a definitely angry bear and tore the door open. The Dwarves, Bilbo and Gandalf flooded inside and just barely managed to get to door shut in time. Amidst the huffing and panting, Fili asked a very sensible question.

“What on Arda was that thing! And before someone says ‘a bear’, I’ve seen countless bears up close and none of them are that size!”

“That, my dear Fili,” Gandalf said almost patronizingly, “was our host.” With those words, the Istar swept out of the room and into what Bilbo thought smelled like a larder. Thorin facepalmed.

“Of course it is…” he muttered.

‘A Skin-Changer? I thought that race had gone extinct!’ Bilbo thought. Looking back, it was quite obvious as to what that huge bear actually was. The Hobbit felt like a fool for not recognizing the signs. ‘Oh well, that’s a problem for tomorrow.’

________

Bilbo woke up to a bumblebee the size of his palm hovering a hairsbreadth away from his nose. He swatted it away as he sat up from his bed of hay and stretched out the stiffness in his back, grunting at the cracks coming from his spine. He blinked blearily at his Dwarves as they clustered around the kitchen window. A great yawn escaped Bilbo’s gaping maw as he made his way over to Thorin.

“What’re you lot lookin’ at.” He mumbled. The Company chuckled at the disheveled appearance of their burglar.

“That’s our host.” Gandalf said tilting his head to the window. The Hobbit walked up and looked out of the glass. Sure enough, the hulking figure of a Man stood in the garden. ‘Well, that explains the strange smell.’ Thought Bilbo as he absently listened to the Istar explaining the plan to introduce everyone to ‘Beorn’, as the Hobbit had learned was the Skin-Changer’s name.

Chapter Text

“Okay, so here’s the plan. First, we-“

“Let the Wizard talk to him first.” Gandalf interrupted Thorin, who sent a glare at him. “Beorn isn’t very fond of Dwarves so you would be wise to let me do the introductions. Come outside when and ONLY when I give you the signal.” The Wizard marched out the back door, leaving Thorin’s protests to fall on deaf ears.

Bilbo stood on his toes to peer out of the window and try and see what was happening. He couldn’t see much (curse you short legs!), but he saw Gandalf’s hand wave in dismissal, likely at a comment Beorn had made.

“Okay, Kili and Fili, out you go.” Nori spoke in a hushed tone.

‘What… oh no…’

“Wait, don’t- go outside…“ Bilbo’s panicked whispers went unheard in the commotion of Nori misreading Gandalf’s signals again and again, sending them all out until eventually the whole Company, bar Bilbo, stood in front of the increasingly irate Beorn. The Hobbit strained his ears to catch the rest of the Istar’s conversation.

“And are there… any other ‘guests’ I should meet?” The Skin-Changer ground out, a low rumble emanating from his broad chest. It took all of Bilbo’s willpower to not run and hide from the large being as he meekly stepped out of the doorway and into Beorn’s eyeline. The Hobbit wasn’t normally so cowed, but he had a very healthy respect for Skin-Changers as they were some of the hardiest people in Middle Earth. Bilbo tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck as a sign of respect.

“Master Beorn, it is an honour to meet one of your kind in these times, I feared your race had gone extinct!” Bilbo said before he dipped his head in a proper bow and introduced himself politely. “Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, at your service.” Beorn stopped bristling at that. He took a deep breath in through his nose and his eyes widened slightly.

After some sheepish apologies and a talk their mutual hatred of Azog, Beorn and Thorin seemed to be getting along rather well.

________

At sunset, Bilbo sat alone in the meadow near Beorn’s house, twisting together a dandelion crown with practised motions. All of a sudden, he jumped as he felt a large presence loom behind him.

“Hello, little ember.” Bilbo frowned at the name.

“Master Beorn, what brings you out here at this time.”

“Your scent, it is… strange… unfamiliar to me. I have travelled far and wide and never smelled anything with fire as a part of it’s natural scent. So tell me, mister ‘Hobbit’, what secrets are you hiding?”

“Wh-what nonsense are you speaking of?! I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, small one, I may not look the part, but my mind is quite sharp, and my instincts are even sharper.” The goliath sat down heavily next to Bilbo. “I won’t hurt you, but I do want to know why I was warned by my ponies to ‘beware the one who smells of cinders.’”

‘Not much point in hiding it from Beorn of all people, I suppose.’

“Very well then. I am a Dragon.” Silence answered him. “Well, I guess if you wanted to be technical, I’m a Firedrake-Wyrm hybrid.” More silence. “You asked me to tell you, what more do you want?”

“I-I guess that the fire scent makes sense now. How can you be a Dragon if you look like a Hobbit?”

‘He’s taking this news pretty well.’

“Gandalf. He found me wounded and enslaved a long while ago and offered me a fresh start.”

“As a… Hobbit.”

“Yes, as a Hobbit.” Bilbo replied testily.

“Can you change back to your Dragon form?” The Skin-Changer asked, he seemed to be genuinely curious.

“No.”

“Have you ever wanted to?”

“At first. For a few years after I was first transformed, there was a strange disembodied feeling whenever I looked at myself. Like I couldn’t even recognise my own hand.”

“I understand how you feel, having two forms with different wants and needs can sometimes lead to a similar feeling to the one you just described.” Bilbo nodded along. “I’ve also been meaning to ask how you knew to greet me the Skin-Changer way.”

This led to a lengthy conversation of how Bilbo used to go on adventures with the members of the Bear clan long ago. They talked deep into the night and once they parted ways to sleep, Bilbo realised that he felt lighter than normal, almost as if part of a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

________

“Philomela, my love, it’s time to wake up.” Philomela opened his eyes and looked upwards to see his smiling soulmate looming over his face, her doe brown eyes and skin the colour of ebony seemed to glow in the morning light.

“Good morning Serafina, my little Starling.” He replied, reaching up and brushing her high cheekbone with small hand. It had been a year or so since Gandalf had transformed him into a Hobbit, yet he still sometimes got the unnerving feeling of being in the wrong body. He was snapped out of his thoughts when Serafina snorted.

“’Little Starling’ you call me, I’m over twice your size, you silly Dragon!” She pulled away and marched over to the side of the bed, grabbing Philomela under his arms and pulling his out of the sheets, proving her statement.

“It’s a term of endearment, love, one I thought you would appreciate.”

“Oh I do! Very much so.” She planted a kiss on his cheek and set him on the ground. “Now come on, I have finally finished my courting gift for you. Dress yourself and meet me at the forges in ten minutes!” She ducked out the door, leaving her floundering soulmate to protest alone in the bedchambers.

“Ten minutes! Serafina, the forges are on the other side of Gondolin! Not everyone is an Elf can run across rooftops with ease!”

Regardless of his griping, Philomela did manage to make it to the forges on time, if barely.

“Finally, I thought I would have to drag you here in your night clothes!” The Elf said as she tied her hair back with a practiced motion.

“Well apologies for not having those ridiculously long Elf legs of yours.” Philomela huffed. Serafina merely waved his comment away and gestured for him to follow her as she walked through the doorway and into the sweltering heat of the forge. He followed her through the twisting corridors and they eventually made their way to her workstation. She started talking as she moved boxes and materials out of her way, presumably looking for something.

“I was stuck on what to make you for a while, but eventually I remembered you mentioning that Orcs kept ambushing you without your aura to detect them. So, I decided to make you this.” The Elf pulled a Hobbit sized sword and scabbard from the mess of boxes and kneeled before her soulmate so she could look him in the eyes properly. “This is a gift from me to you, my soulmate. An Elven blade to light your way and sense the dark creatures that would take you from me.” She presented the blade to him on her palms, head bowed.

Philomela was speechless. He sometimes forgot just how observant his little Starling could be at times. He reverently picked up the sword and hugged it to his chest, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

“Thank you, my love, I will treasure this always.” Philomela flung his arms around her neck and squeezed her tightly, the sword clutched in one hand. Serafina chuckled lovingly and squeezed him back. “My gift now pales in comparison to yours, I’m sorry to say.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, mister Hobbit.”