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Chapter Text

All things of Middle Earth came from the mind of Iluvatar, the One, the Creator. All things that were and are, were sung into existence by those born of his thoughts, the Ainur. Much that the Ainur sang about, they did not understand, but understanding was not theirs to have for they were created to sing for the pleasure of the One.

When Iluvatar chose to reveal what their song had created, those of his thoughts were filled with great joy at the sight the World and the children who were to come. Then thirteen of the Ainor chose to leave the side of Iluvatar and help prepare the world for the Firstborn, who would be called Elves and the Followers, or Men, who were the One’s children. These thirteen Ainor became known as the Valar and worked many ages using their gifts and talents to create a place of beauty for the Children to come.

There was one, however, in which a darkness grew, and Melkor, mightiest of the Valar, began to yearn for a power which was not his to have. He wanted control and command of the Firstborn, to be lord over them. He desired for them to worship and praise only him. This lead to strife between Melkor and and the other Valar. It was not long before the first of the great wars broke out. Aule, the craftsman, the smith, and Tulkas, the strong, the champion worked to try and subdue Melkor, to keep him from destroying all that had been created. The wars continued and because of them, the home of the Valar was in a state of such unrest, that the coming of the Firstborn was missed by all but Melkor.

In his desire to turn the Elves against his former brothers and sisters, Melkor took the form of Orome, the huntsman, the Vala who spent the most time in Middle Earth, and hunted the newly awakened beings. Those who were separated from their kin, he stole away and they were never heard from again. Once in his grasp, the elves met cruel fates as he tortured them, breaking their spirits and twisting them beyond all recognition. These poor souls gave rise to the race of Orcs.

However, there was a small handful of elves that were somehow able to escape the cruelties Melkor had in store for them. They travelled together across Middle Earth, never staying in any one place for long in case the Black Vala wanted his victims back. It was not long, before they came across some of their kin. They were able to remain with them for a time, before the Eldar became weary of the ones they called Cementumenosse, the Earth Wielders.

For as much as they desired to be as good and pure as they were before, their very souls were marked with a darkness that was inescapable. They were much the same as their elvish kin with strength beyond their size and unparalleled senses and agility. However, there were other changes that came to be feared. Those who had escaped from Melkor now had the ability to command all that was around them to move to their will. The only exception being anything made of iron, for the very skin on their bodies remembered the torture they lived through and turned raw and red at a simple touch of the metal. This carried over to their abilities and they could not control anything made of the substance.

There were also physical changes that the darkness wrought. They had sharper teeth and great craving for meat and the hunt. Their voices, while enchanting, did not have the same songlike lilt of their kin. They were more like a well crafted sword, something beautiful to look at, but sharp and deadly as well. Their eyes had also changed, they were no longer the soft tones of plants and sky, but more akin to Aule’s precious stones, lovely but cold and ringed in black. Bodies held sharper angles and were more muscular.

There was some years of tentative peace between the two groups, but eventually an accident took place and a young noble elf perished at the hands of a Cementumenosse. Tensions escalated and soon the Marked Elves were forced out, sent away from their once kin. Again, those who escaped Melkor found themselves wandering the lands of Middle Earth.

Many ages passed before they interacted with another race. In fact, it was none of the original Cementumenosse, who first stumbled upon the race of Men, but some of their children. These young one had heard the stories their parents shared about the dangers of the Dark Vala and the closed hearts of their Eldar kin. However, the darkness that was in the souls of their fathers and mothers, was mischief and adventurousness in the young. So, they ventured out from their homes and into a world, where most did not even know that they existed.

Word of the ‘fair ones’, quickly spread among the race of Men and soon Dwarves, because the Elves were rarely seen, for they were at war with Melkor after the stealing of the Silmarils. Having never heard the stories of the Cementumenosse from the Elves, the Men and Dwarves held no ill will for the people they called the Cae. In fact, there was amusement at how this seemingly ageless group, acted much like teens, full of energy and causing mischief from time to time.

It was in their time living with the mortal races that the Cae discovered that their habit of only speaking the truth was quite uncommon in the world. In fact, it was quickly learned that habit was something so ingrained in their being that they could not lie. However, much like they learned they could control the movement of the physical things around them, it was discovered they could also cause those around them to speak naught but the truth as well. This ability pleased the leaders of Men and Dwarves and the Cae became advisors of the high courts. Meetings between two groups, although not always going smoother, because everyone was always brutally honest and that can be hard to take, were more productive as all interested parties would state specifically what they wanted and there were rarely hidden motives.

Not all of the Cae worked as advisors, some were drawn down the path of the warrior. In wanting to hide their telekinetic ability, they chose a weapon to master instead. Most took up the bow and arrow, because swords, axes, daggers all had iron in them and it was not worth it to the Cae to be burned by each accidentally brush of the metal against skin. Additionally, they could use stones as arrow heads and avoid the metal altogether. Their keen eyesight gave them unmatched ability with the bow. They proved to be very good warriors and were quickly accepted as honored members of the armies.

Sadly, these days of peace for the Cae were not to last.

It must be said there was a very evident difference between the First Cae and their children. Those who had lived through Melkor’s tortures and escaped had black rings around the edges of their eyes. Their children, the Second Cae, did not. Their eyes were just bright jewel tones that shone in the right light. The first Cae hoped that since their children did not have the Mark of Darkness, they all carried that they had avoided having such evil stamped on their soul. This was found not to be true and that when awoken, the malevolence had a far more deadly impact.

The race of Men did not hold to the same standards that the Elves and Cae and not all could be considered good and that was where the trouble began. Depending on who you ask, the story of what happened is different. The histories of Men claim, they were attacked without warning or cause. The long memories of the Cae tell a different story.

It's the brief story of young she-cae known as Vórima, the youngest of the Cae children. Her eyes were a bright sapphire blue and she had hair of the palest gold. Out of all of her kind, she most embodied the purity the First Cae had before they were taken by Melkor. Although she was young according to Cae standards, she had recently reached her second century of life. Like many of her kin, she was very curious about the world and wanted to know more about where she lived. So, one day she set out with her best friend and older brother, Haldanár, and together they explored the world around them.

Two years into their venture, for time does not pass the same for immortals as is does for mortals, they passed through a town of Men who had never had met any of the Elves or Cae, so Vórima and Haldanár attracted quite a lot of attention and not all of it good. It was two days after they left the town that disaster struck. Haldanár was hunting, leaving Vórima at their campsite to prepare the rest of the meal.

No one know exactly what happened, but when Haldanárë arrived back at their campsite, he found evidence of a struggle and Vórima was gone. Dropping his kills, he took off into the woods following the tracks left by the men. It should have been an easy hunt, but Men can be clever and soon Haldanár found a place where the trail split and he did not know which to follow. Unfortunately, his choice was wrong and it had terrible consequences.

By the time that he found his sister, she was gone. His cry of anguish split the air as he cradled her broken and cooling body. So overcome by grief, he did not immediately notice the changes coming over him and it was sometime before he knew his jade green eyes were now ringed in black. After mourning for a time, he burned Vórima's body as was the custom of the Cae, allowing the wind to spread the ashes as it willed.

From here, the stories are the same. The town from whence the men came who killed Vórima was slaughtered. Haldanár gave no thought to man, woman or child as his need to exact revenge drove him. It was this action, the very fact that one Cae destroy a town of over three hundred people for no easily seen reason, that caused the Men and later the Dwarrows to break ties with the Cae. In fact, both rallied their armies against them, but most of the Cae had already disappeared returning back from whence they came.

To all of the major races, the Cementumenosse disappeared. As generations passed, naught but the ancient annals of Men and Dwarves and the only memories of the Elves remembered the Cae.

Chapter Text

Not much has ever been known about the race many call Halflings, or the Kuduz, as they call themselves. While Men and Elves can trace their beginnings to the musical utterances the Ainor sang for Iluvatar and the Dwarves to the Vala Aule, whom they call Mahal, none know from whence the Hobbits came.

It is the common belief among the other major races that the Halflings were created by Yavanna, wife of Aule, Vala of the earth itself. This, of course, would make them the sibling-race of the Dwarrows. Which is an acceptable theory, because even for all of their differences in appearance and mannerisms, at the heart of the matter, they are very similar to each other. Both hold a great love for that which their maker, real or supposed, is over; the Dwarves, their glimmering gems and mesmerizing minerals, which Mahal also prizes, and Hobbits, all that is green and growing, which is close to the heart of Yavanna.

Looking at these facts, it makes sense to most, namely the men and elves, that Yavanna sang the Hobbits into existence sometime after the Elves, Dwarves, and Men had awoken.

Is this the truth?
It may never be known.

The Hobbits seemed to just appear during the Third Age of the Sun as it is uncertain how long they existed prior to the Elves of the Greenwood stumbling upon their established home near the Anduil River. The Halflings did not then,, nor in any of years following years share their history with the outside races. If they know the truth about their origins, it remains a secret, like much of the race of Little People.

Of all the greater races, Dwarves are known for keeping many things concealed, even if they flaunt their supposed secrets. Most notable is their language; Khudzul is spoken freely in the presence of strangers, even though it is never taught to outsiders. The Elves have existed too long to have many secrets. They keep the best records of all of the greater races of Middle Earth, so anything you want to know is probably in a book and can be found in one of the libraries of the few remaining great elven cities. They have two major languages Quenya, from the Age of the Stars and Sindarin, which came along later and is known to many. The Men truly do not live long enough to care about obscuring things from the others. Much of their mind is focused on the here and now, progressing and improving. They do not take time from their busy, but short lives worry about keeping secrets as a race. They commonly use Westron, which is the shared tongue of all the peoples of Middle Earth, although different dialects have arisen has time has progressed.

However, like much is assumed about the origin of Hobbits, the same can be said for their history and culture. They appear to be open and honest folk, who love the earth, eating and good drink, so there must not be anything dearer to them. No living being outside the race of Halflings has ever heard a Hobbit language, so it must not exist.

Even though they are frequently looked down on, both literally and figuratively, the Kuduz are happy to allow the other races to continue believing incorrect information. This allows them to keep the knowledge of their history and their language as a jealously guarded secret. For such a laid back race, they are protective of what is theirs, even to the point where it is never used in the open or around their children until the faunts are able to understand that they are not ever to share.

There has never been a written version of the Hobbit language nor will there be, because once written, the chances of someone learning it increases an untold number of times. For this reason, all of their histories are passed down through stories, oral tradition. It is part of a faunt's coming of age ceremony that they must recite three different stories from their Histories for the family elders. This shows that all hobbits have learned their lessons because they do not know what stories will be chosen until they are standing before their elders. That, however, is another story and not the one we want to tell right now.

There is a particular part of Hobbit lore which is the most imperative to our story. It is the story of how the Hobbits and the Cae first met each other. It was a chance crossing of paths and would have far-reaching consequences which would ripple down through time. For the Kuduz, it was during a time they call their Wandering Years after they had left their home near the Anduil River, but before the Shire was established.

Although content where they were, a darkness was seeping out the abandoned ruins of Dol Guldur was slowly infecting the Greenwood. The once beautiful forest began turning dark, dangerous and malevolent. While the Silvan Elves of the Greenwood were able to protect themselves from these new troubles, the Kuduz could not. The elders of the great families made the decision to leave and find a new, safer home.

They knew they did not want to travel east through the tainted Mirkwood and there was little promise about what lay on the far side of the forest. North would carry them to the Gray Mountains. While currently, all was calm and the Dwarves well in control of their land, it had been known to be plagued by the Cold-Drakes, a kind of fire-less dragon that was still destructive and deadly. South would take them too close to the Dol Guldur, and past that point was inhabited by Men. So they went West instead. This was before the fall of Moria and while the mountain passes were treacherous, they were not yet inhabited by scores of goblins. It was while they were crossing the Misty Mountain, that the Kuduz first met the long-forgotten Cae.

An exact account of the encounter does not exist as each of the great families has their own version. What is agreed upon is that the Hobbits and the Cae, who were called the Glwysed Tywyll Pobl by the smaller race, felt drawn to each other.

To the Hobbits, the Glwysed, for short, were enchanting. While their features made them seem darker than the few Elves who had crossed paths with the little people, there was something about them that seemed safe. With the trials the wandering Hobbits had faced, safe was of utmost importance. For the Cae, they were intrigued by the fact that the Kuduz were so truthful.

Whatever the initial reasons for interactions between the two races, they ended up traversing the Misty Mountains and through the lands of Eregion and Minhiriath together. Over the course of those many years, the two races intermingled, leading to the Glwysed Kuzud.

There were many well known Glwysed Kuduz throughout the Hobbit's history both before and after the settling of the Shire. This is the story of one, who held the fate of all Middle Earth in his hand.

Chapter Text

No one was really surprised at the birth of Belladonna and Bungo's child. It really was unusual for a hobbit couple to have trouble having a child, especially a couple who were as young as the Baggins or who came from such big families. However, when little Bilbo was born it was easy to see the evidence of the Glwysed Tywyll Pobl in his tiny features. One glimpse of his unusual dark brown locks and bright grey eyes threaded with silver and it was hard to see the Hobbit in this almost purely Cae child. It had been quite some time since a fauntling had been born with such a strong bearing of an almost forgotten time. It also explained why Belladonna and Bungo had trouble having children, to begin with as the Glwysed had very few children over the course of their immortal lives and Hobbits who had Glwysed Kuduz, tended to have small families as well.

It was never really known why Cae traits would show up so strongly after years of dormancy. Currently, there were a handful of hobbits living who were marked as Glwysed Kuduz, but compared to Bilbo, they were only slightly marked. Of the other Fair Hobbits, the only distinguishing characteristic was their eyes, with barely noticeable ribbons of jewel-tone colors. The accenting colors were just a shade or two different than the main eye color and spiraled out from the pupil. There was no particular Hobbit family that held claim over the Cae blood, the intermingling of races had happened so far back before even the count of Shire Reckoning had begun. The traits of the Glwysed could manifest in any Hobbit.

At the time of Bilbo's birth, only one or two Glwysed Kuzud had the ability to compel the truth and only three or four had any telekinetic ability. Although neither Belladonna nor Bungo displayed any Glwysed traits, it was still not surprising that Bilbo did as that was the nature of the Fair Hobbits. However, what was unusual was the strength of the Cae ancestry in the little faunt. There had not been a Hobbit since Bullroarer Took, who had shown so many of the Glwysed traits or had such command of their gifts. It was believed that since Bullroarer had done great things, Bilbo was destined to do the same.

As a young faunt, Bilbo had a good life, although his Cae heritage did cause problems. He had a propensity for mischief, leading him and his peers to play all sorts of pranks and tricks on each other and the other residents of Hobbiton. In fact, his ability to plan and keen senses to enact the prank made him a favorite among his more adventurous Took cousins. Until the grown Hobbits learned to ask Bilbo directly what had happened and his Cae blood forced him to speak the whole truth and not skirt the issue like most youngsters were apt to do. It was some moons before Bilbo was fully forgiven after a particularly weighty punishment and accepted back in by the other faunts, albeit with a new role to keep everyone out of trouble when playing jokes.

Like all faunts, Bilbo began his training with the elders of the Took and Baggins families around the middle of his teen years. He devoured his Hobbitish lessons, showing a gift for languages, so much so, that his mother began to teach him what little Elvish she had learned in her own travels. It was not surprising that he was fascinated with the stories of the Glwysed Tywyll Pobl, the Fair Dark Ones, or the Glwysed Kuduz, the Fair Hobbits. He had always known that he was different and it didn't take much for him to figure out why. Towards the end of his lessons, not long before his twentieth birthday, he spent time with some of the other Glwysed Kuduz to learn to control his gifts. It also afforded him the chance to learn the extent of what he could do with them. If he so wished, all beings with the ability to speak within twenty feet of him would speak naught but the truth, should they choose to open their mouth. His telekinetic abilities worked a bit differently. With only his mind, he could pick up anything that he could with his own hands with but a thought. However, the lighter the object the further away it could be from him. That being said, unlike his ability to control others in speaking the truth, his telekinesis could grow with age and ability, if he chose to work to improve.

Yes, All in all, it could be said Bilbo Baggins had a good life and it appeared that he would not feel the awakening darkness that the was common to the Cae but virtually unknown to their Hobbit relatives. However, everything changed during Fell Winter.

Contrary to what most of the other races believe, the weather in the Shire was not always perfect and pleasant. Winters can and often were quite dangerous, especially when the snow came, about halfway through the cold period. However, Hobbits are a most hardy folk and were able to endure the harsh conditions that the cold season brought with it.

Generally, winters were mild and the only real concern was digging out of a smial as the snows began to create drifts between the hills covering doors and windows. Some winters would be harder on the Kuduz because food would be scarce. The Shire's state of plenty was directly tied to the weather and the weather could be quite finicky. While there were a number of hardy plants that could grow in most types of situations, most would be affected by too much or too little rain or sun. If the summer was too hot, wet or dry, there would not be much food to make it through the winter. Hobbits were and are a caring race and would help each other through the hard times, pooling and rationing food to make sure everybody had enough.

As bad as winter could be, Fell Winter, however, was far worse. The summer had been unseasonably hot and the sun had scorched the earth. Only the strongest plants grew and still, they did not produce near as much as they could. The river dropped and fish became hard to come by, which was troublesome as they were a staple meat for the Kuduz. Before winter even began, it promised to be a hard season, as pantries were only half full. However, there were few worries; it would be hard but the Hobbits had lived through many times like this and they knew the stories of the trials their ancestors had faced during the Wandering Years.

As hot as the summer had been, the winter was just as cold. The frost came early and could be found on the ground every morning. It was considered a good day if the ice actually melted. Then the snow came four weeks sooner than normal and to make matters worse it fell for three days without stop. Whole hills disappeared under white mounds and it took days for some families to dig out. Bilbo, having finished all of his training, helped where he could moving snow out of the way, but snow is very insubstantial and therefore difficult to move. His neighbors were thankful for anything that he could do with his telekinesis.

With all of the troubles that they were facing, the hobbits could have made it through the winter with only the very young and the very old being in any real danger, but that was not all nature had in store for them. Not long after the middle of winter came, the temperatures plummeted and a deep freeze crept across the land. The sun was not warm enough to thaw anything and ice collected on everything.

It was four days into the freeze that the first howl was heard and the winter turned truly deadly. For the Brandywine had frozen and wolves entered the Shire, something that had not happened in nearly two hundred years.

Chapter Text

"Mom," Bilbo's voice rang out in the full smial. The Baggins family had been bringing Hobbits into their home for most of the winter and now the large home was quite full. "Where did Dad go?"

Belladonna brushed a lock of her curly hair out of face and looked away from the group of Hobbits gathered in front of the fire in the main room. "I don't know, Bilbo. I last saw him in the kitchen while I was working on the stew, but that was a few hours ago. I would check with Fosco and Ruby Baggins. Little Drogo has been feeling trapped so they took him to look out the window at the gardens, even though there is naught but snow to see. He has been spending a lot of time with them lately or they might have seen if he went outside."

Although his mother did not see him, Bilbo nodded in response and watching as her attention was diverted by some Hobbit calling her name. He wasn't paying close enough attention to find out what caught her attention, but he gathered it was someone with a question about food or a need for a healer. As a Took, Belladonna was a gifted healer, a skill learned out necessity from her more adventurous years. Many had hoped the wanderlust that was frequently present in the Took families, would skip Old Took's eldest daughter. However, she seemed to have a double dose and had ventured father and in Hobbit in recent memory.

The elder faunt smiled as he thought about this mother's attempts to teach him healing. Although he had tried his hardest, he had been able to master very few of the healing arts. He was always more destructive and had little ability to mend, build or heal. The healing arts would be beneficial, as he was always getting into problems that caused a wide range of injuries, they remained something he could not master.

Shaking his head, the young Glwysed Kuduz made his way to his favorite cousins, although he had called Fosco and Ruby uncle and aunt. Fosco was the son of Bungo's uncle Largo, his grandfather's youngest son. Although there were many years difference in age, between Bungo and Fosco, the two had always been very close, even more so than any of Bungo's actual brothers and sisters.

"Afternoon Uncle Fosco, Aunt Ruby, and little Drogo," he said calling out to the family.

"Bilbo," Drogo shrieked, leaping from his Mother's arms and racing to his older cousin. Bilbo scooped the little brown haired faunt up into his arms. "Snow is everywhere outside. Everything is so white."

"So, it is little one. Are you enjoying looking out the window?"

"Yes, but I wanna go out and play."

Bilbo hid a grimace. "I know, but this winter is not safe. We must stay inside until the spring comes and chases away the snow." He frowned at the sad look on Drogo's little face, but there was little that he could do, not with wolves patrolling the very streets of the Shire.

"Hello, Bilbo," Ruby said, calling his attention away from her little son. "Was there something that you needed?"

"Yes ma'am, I am in search of my Father. Mother pointed me in this direction, I'm guessing she thinks you might have seen him recently."

"He came this way not too long ago, with his heavy jacket on," Ruby offered. "I asked him where he was going and he said to get more firewood. We have not seen him through these windows, so I can't say more than that, but the stores are on the other side of the smial."

Bilbo nodded his head in thanks to his cousins and passed Drogo back to his mother. "That gives me a place to start. I will be on my way." He turned and made his way toward the front door and the closet that kept some warmer clothing than any of the Hobbits currently staying in Bag End could use.

He was just pulling his jacket on when a howl cut through the air. The wolf calls were sadly not that uncommon in the Shire this winter, but it was still early in the day. Not taking time to bother with the buttons on the coat, Bilbo tore the door open and darted outside. Once he cleared of the tunnel snow that surrounded their smial entrance, he began to quickly follow his Father's footprints in the newly fallen snow. As expected, they led to the store of firewood, but then away again, but this time they took him further from the house. Fear crept into Bilbo's heart as another howl sounded through the crisp air.

Finally, the Fair Hobbit came across a horrible scene. His father was crouched over something trying to protect it with his own body as wolves attacked. Bilbo could already see blood staining the ground, even from the distance he was at. With a scream of fear, he threw his hands forward, knocking the wolves away from his fallen kin. Breaking into a run, he made his way to his dad keeping the wolves at bay as he went.

Fear drained away to anger as the Cae-Born reached Bungo and saw his pale white skin, almost the same color as the snow. Small pebbles and stones began to swirl around the two as Bilbo lashed out with his telekinesis toward anything he could pick up and use as a weapon. The first stone flew with deadly accuracy into the head of an approaching wolf, when Bilbo noticed that the bundle, his dad was protecting with his life, moved. He did not take time to investigate but turned to the beasts that had invaded his homeland and with the same accuracy as an elven archer, but far greater speed due to his ability to control more than one projectile, he slaughtered the wolves.

In less than two minutes, almost a dozen wolves lay dead surrounding Bungo and a quivering Bilbo. Finally turning back to his father, Bilbo rolled him onto his side, exposing a small fauntling, wrapped tightly in a blood-soaked blanket. Gathering the child in his arms, Bilbo placed a hand to his Dad's chest but felt no heartbeat or rise and fall of breath. A scream of anguish cut through the air and everything around Bilbo trembled with his grief.

This was the scene Belladonna and Fosco arrived on when they finally found where Bilbo had disappeared too. His right hand was resting on his father's chest, as the left held tightly to the Fauntling his father died to protect, surrounded by a ring of dead wolves, tears dripping down his cheeks.

It was some days later before anyone noticed the change in Bilbo. His overall countenance was darker, almost vengeful as he purposely went after any wolves that made their way into Hobbiton. However, it was the eyes that worried most Hobbits. Where they had been gray with bright and entrancing silver threaded through, their accents were midnight black and held a great deal of malice in them.

Bilbo was Darkness Marked; the first Hobbit to carry the full and heavy weight of the tainted soul of the Cae.

Chapter Text

A light breeze caught a chocolate brown curl and pulled on it gently. It was swatted out of grey eyes and returned to its place resting against the smooth face of a Hobbit.

Bilbo Baggins of BagEnd was sitting outside his Hobbit-hole trying to enjoy the first sun the Shire had seen in a number of days. While the rain was beneficial for the crops and the overall health of the Shire, the perpetual clouds were depressing, even for this most joyful of Middle Earth peoples. A few days of bright sunlight and warm breezes were in order.

Bilbo turned his face toward the sky and watched the clouds as they drifted by. Although, he the picture of relaxation, his other senses were open to his surroundings, carefully monitoring of his corner of the Shire, much as he had done every day since Fell Winter. The marks in his eyes swirled to a deeper, almost more dangerous shade of black as he thoughts turned dark at the memories of the wolf attacks and the lives lost.

He shook his head to chase away his thoughts before the malevolent intent took over. Since his mother had passed, there was no one around to bring him back when the darkness crept through him. All of the mischief that he caused with his cousins in his younger days, was nothing compared to the terror he could wreak now if the condition were right. Some hobbits believed he had lost himself when the black entered his eyes, but he hadn't. He was in complete control of all of his actions at all times, how else could you explain that the horrible Sackville-Baggins were never harmed during one of his exceptionally dark periods. Instead, he chose to travel the borders of the Shire finding ways to work out the rage that consumed him. There was never much to do now, as most predators gave the Shire a wide berth.

As he had been on his own for a number of years now, Bilbo was getting better at stopping the darkness before it could overwhelm him. He was only able to do so because he held to a very strict schedule and did everything he could to be the respectable gentlehobbit that came with being a Baggins.

A shadow drifted across his line of vision, breaking through his maudlin thoughts. "Good morning," he said out of politeness and normality, before really looking at the person. It wasn't really the truth, he did not think that it was a good morning, but sometimes niceties could work around is inability to lie, be didn't really understand it, but at least conversation could start pleasantly.

"What do you mean", the other replied and Bible tried not to roll his eyes as he directed his attention to the wandering wizard. "Do you wish me a good morning, or meant that it is a good morning whether I want it or not, or that you feel good this morning or that it is a morning to be good on?"

Cold gray and black eyes studied the wizard. "Do you want the truth or silence, Gandalf?"

The taller being gave an indignant huff. "The truth as always, Master Hobbit, as I know you will require the same of me."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow but did not answer, choosing to take another pull of his pipe and blow a smoke ring instead. "I meant it with all of the politeness I could offer, although you could take all but the third meaning should you desire."

"So, you do not feel good this morning?"

"If you must know, I have had very few mornings that could be deemed good since Fell Winter and even less in the last twenty years since my mother passed. However, you would know this if you ever came by any more, Gandalf." The Hobbit spat the name as his anger grew. "You claim to be a close friend of Mother, but where were you when we burned my father's body because he died giving his very life to save a fauntling lass from the wolves who stalked the Shire destroying whole families?

"Where were you when that same lass, like countless other flaunts, could not survive the harsh conditions of Fell Winter?

"Where were you when we had to spend the first month of spring, not celebrating the return of Yavanna's plenty, but burning our dead and trying to recover?

"Where were you, ten years later, when my Mother lay dying because of a choice I made?" He cut off abruptly taking a shuddering breath and tried to regain control of his gifts and emotions. A collection of small stones circled about his head as everything else around him shook as if caught in stormy winds. At some point during his rant, he had stood up, anger pushing him to his feet.

Neither said anything for a few moments as everything began to settle, save for the stones that still moved in lazy paths about the Glwysed Kuduz. "What are you doing here," Bilbo asked finally, his voice a little weary and wary. Most would offer some sort of apology for such an outburst, but he could not something that he did not feel and he most certainly did not feel sorry right now,

Gandalf did not answer right away for he could feel the strength of the Hobbits gift weighing heavily on him and even as a Maiar, he could not escape it. It had been a number of years since he had been around the gifted Hobbit and it was evident that his powers had only strengthened with age. The gray wizard would not be able to say anything but the absolute truth.

"I am hoping to convince you to come on an adventure." He stopped himself from saying more because while he could only speak the truth, it did not mean that he had to speak at all.

Bilbo dropped his eyes to the ground. "I stopped adventuring when Mother passed. I have felt little desire to go on one since then."

"Ah, yes, I understand," Gandalf said nothing at Bilbo's raised eyebrow and continued on. "I have a feeling you would be most…" He paused searching for a word. Useful had been on his tongue, but he did not want to convey that he was coming to the Glwysed because of what he was instead of who he was. "I believe you would offer something no one else in the company could, that you would be most instrumental in the success of the quest."

Something between a frown and amusement played across Bilbo's face. "In the space of two minutes, it has grown from an adventure to a quest with a company. What is it, Wizard?"

"I think the answer would come best from the leader of this exposition. Could I impose on your hospitality and send the group here around dinner? It would give you a chance to meet them and learn their perspective on the nature of their quest."

The smaller of the two pondered the request for a moment. "Very well, Gandalf, they may come, as long as you swear to do two things for me: first I want to know how many I will be hosting and their race and second, you warn them to mind themselves. I will not tolerate ill manners from guests of any type."

The ages blue eyes of the Maiar studied the younger intently, seeming to try and read his soul. "I will pass along your message to as many as I can and will hope they will listen. You can expect thirteen Dwarves and me for dinner." With that Gandalf nodded his head, "Good morning, Master Baggins."

The dark haired Hobbit disappeared into his Hobbit hole, the circling stones following him inside. As Bilbo made his way to the kitchen, he did not see the Wizard etch a Dwarvish symbol into his door, nor that it glowed dimly in the mid-morning sun.

Chapter Text

It ended up being a busy day for Bilbo as he worked to prepare a meal large enough for fifteen. He wondered if Dwarves ate as much Hobbits. From his wanderings, he had learned a teenaged Hobbit could eat more in one sitting than a man three times his size. For whatever the reason, Hobbits needed more food than the other races, despite their smaller size. Since Fell Winter, many started to eat in excess, giving them a rounder appearance. It caused the other greater races to look down on them as gluttonous as if they had forgotten that for centuries before they had been a more slenderly built race.

He wondered if the same was true with regard to the Darrows. If they needed more food, despite their smaller build. Bilbo had met very few of Mahal's children and certainly knew none well enough to ask questions about their needs. He decided it was better to make more food rather than less, so he made enough to feed fifteen Hobbits, which is no easy task, all things considered. However, if it wasn't needed, he could always have leftovers for another day.

He was just setting the last of the utensils down when a knock echoed through his smial. Using his telekinesis, he straightened the house as he walked towards the green door, which marked the front of his house. Pulling it open, revealed a tall, mostly bald Dwarf with dark brown hair and beard armed with a pair of battle axes.

"Dwalin at your service," and the introduction was paired with an almost polite bow if it had not been stopped about halfway through.

"Bilbo Baggins at yours." He pulled the door open more to allow his guest to come in. "I was told to expect thirteen, where are the rest of your traveling companions?" He released the tight hold on his ability to compel the truth, not really in the mood for lies, false statements or guessing games.

"They are on their way, for whatever reason the Wizard did not want us traveling together through your lands." There was a moment of quiet shock as Dwalin realized what he said without really intending to. However, he quickly masked the shock, as Bilbo nodded at the answer.

"You can leave your cloak on one of the pegs here and your traveling bags in the closet." The Kuduz closed the door then showed Dwalin the two areas he mentioned. Once that was done, he lead the Dwarf to the den. "I have dinner prepared, but it will wait until the rest of your company has arrived." Although he was more than a foot shorter than Dwalin, his voice brokered no argument. Thankfully, it was not long before another knock echoed off the walls of the hole.

Silently, Bilbo disappeared from the room and made his way back to his front door. Pulling the door open, revealed a stoutly built Dwarf with a long white beard and matching hair.

"Balin, at your service," This time, he was greeted with a bow that matched his station as the owner of the home and host of a gathering.

"Bilbo Baggins at yours. Do come in Master Dwarf." Balin righted himself from his bow and came in the door. "You may hang your cloak on a peg and leave your things in the closet. I'll take you to the den."

Balin did not say anything but made to follow the Hobbit's instructions. There was an air of caution that Bilbo did not really understand, but chose not to comment on. Soon, they were walking through the hall to join Dwalin in the den. The Glwysed watched the reunion between the two, who were apparently brothers if their interactions were anything to go by. He was about to ask the pair if he could get them any tea when two sharp raps sounded against the door.

The host of this unexpected party sighed and left the room mumbling about the horrible timing of Dwarves. Soon he was opening his front door again to reveal not one, but two Dwarves. Although one was fair and the other dark, the family resemblance between the two was evident.

"Fili…" the blonde offered.

"And Kili," the dark-haired one continued.

"At your service," they said together as they dropped into matching bows. Their actions spoke of a closely shared bond.

"Bilbo Baggins at yours. Come in." The two crowded in the door before he could say much more.

"I see two cloaks," the dark-haired one, Kili said. "Who else is here, Mr. Boggins?"

"It's Baggins, Master Dwarf. Masters Dwalin and Balin have arrived and are in the den."

"Oh, very good," Fili cut in, having already hung up his cloak, even without being instructed to do so. "Here take these and be careful, I just sharpened them." He dropped his weapons into Bilbo's unexpecting arms.

Some of the metal on the hilt brushed against his skin. The sensation was was quick and sharp and the Hobbit recoiled in pain allowing the sword and ax to clatter to the ground. "I cannot and will not handle your weapons," Bilbo bit out in a sharp retort as he looked at the burned and blistering skin, standing out bright red on his forearm. "You may put them in the closet to your left." He looked up at the brothers who were looking at him in shock but was distracted when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned an icy glare to Balin, who was watching the three intently. "I trust you will ensure, these two make it to the den with no issues."

Without another word he turned and stalked through a doorway, leaving the hall. It did not take him long to clean and bandage the burn and just as he was leaving the bathroom, there was the sound of someone or ones beating upon his door. Making his way through the empty hall, for Balin had managed to coral Fili and Kili into the den, he soon reached and opened the door.

This time there were five Dwarves at the door. Introductions were made all around and soon Bilbo found himself leading two sets of brothers to his den. With Oin, Gloin, Dori, Nori, and Ori, the total number of Darrows in his house up to nine. This meant there were four Dwarves and one wizard still missing.

"I am sorry, Master Baggins," a voice rang out as they entered the room. Turning toward the sound, the Hobbit gathered it was Fili who had spoken.

"I am sure it was an accident," Bilbo replied carefully, "although you should be the only one to care for your weapons. Never entrust them to someone else." There were many murmurings of agreement from some of the older Dwarves in the room. Thankfully, there was yet another knock at his door, for he could tell Dwalin and Balin wanted to ask questions. He ducked out of the room, hoping it was the last of his guests because frankly, he was tired of answering the blasted door. He was grumbling about the inability of Dwarves to travel together and therefore making things more frustrating for their host. Opening the door revealed Gandalf and three more Dwarrows.

After introductions, the slightly frazzled Glwysed helped Bombur, Bofur, and Bifur get their things put away and directed them into the dining room. He told them to have a seat and he would collect the rest of the company. There was one person still missing, but as the majority was here, he figured they could begin the meal.

It was not hard to get the first nine to leave his den, although Balin and Dwalin did seem more ill-at-ease, than when they first arrived. Eventually, everyone was settled and the meal started in earnest.

"Who is still missing," Bilbo asked once all of his guests had a chance to get some food. He had been gently blanketing the room with his gift. He knew some were sensitive to his power, like Gandalf, and he had been practicing using it without the weight of his coercion pressing in on others. It was quite unlike when he spoke with Gandalf this morning and he wanted the Wizard to know he was going to force the truth out of him.

"The leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield. He had traveled to speak with more of our kin." It was Gloin who had spoken when he saw that neither Dwalin nor Balin were going to answer the question. The Kuduz nodded and returned to his meal without saying anything more, pulling back his gift, satisfied with the answer for now.

It did not take long for the twelve Dwarves to start talking amongst themselves, growing louder and more raucous as time went on. Bilbo was torn between trying to get them to calm down and allowing them the reunions and joy that came from seeing friends again. It wasn't that Hobbits didn't have loud get-togethers, but those were saved for outside; indoor gatherings were a little tamer. He had just finished his salad and was no closer to making a decision when his keen hearing picked up a knock at the door.

Moving to get up caught Bofur's attention and he watched the Hobbit leave the room. Bofur gave a soft, clear whistle drawing everyone's attention to himself. "Thorin's here." His voice was quiet, but clear and the whole company heard. They got up and crowded around the doorway leading the hall which has a clear view of the main entrance. They were surprised to see Gandalf already standing in the hall a little behind Bilbo when no one remembered seeing him leave. They watched as Bilbo opened the door, revealing the last member of the company.

"Gandalf, I thought you said this place was easy to find. I got lost twice." Thorin had walked in, paying no attention to Bilbo, at least until the Hobbit let out a snort of amusement. Deep blue eyes turned to Bilbo, narrowing in anger as he looked over the shorter male. "I suppose this is the Hobbit."

"Yes," Bilbo replied bristling with anger. "And I suppose you are the leader of this group. I do hope you are not in charge of the maps if you cannot navigate the Shire without getting lost." It was rare he let his mouth get away from him, but something about this Dwarf grated against his already tried patience.

"Watch your tongue, Halfling," the Dwarf snapped back. "You have no clue with whom you speak."

"Oh, I don't, do I? You assume much, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo spat the name. "How lucky I must be to have the crownless king of Erebor, one of the lost Dwarven realms, in my smial." There were a couple of gasps from the company because no one had told Bilbo, who Thorin was exactly. He took a step forward eyes glinting brightly. "You would do well to remember your training in diplomacy, it does not serve you to talk down to potential allies."

"Now, Bilbo, Thorin," Gandalf cut in. He was carefully choosing his words, trying to work around the Hobbit's power that was almost crackling in the air. "You both need to calm down. Let us finish dinner and speak with full stomachs."

"Very well, Wizard," Bilbo growled. He turned to the Dwarf king. "Do come in. You may hang your cloak on a hook and stow your things in the closet. I am sure the Wizard or one of your Dwarves can direct you to the dining room. I need to check on the desserts in the kitchen." With that, he spun on his heel and stalked pasted the stunned company.

Chapter Text

Thankfully dinner passed with few problems.

After a couple of moments of stunned silence, the Dwarves returned to the dining room and their meal. Bilbo came into the dining room much calmer than when he left and was carrying a pair of pies.

However, everything started falling apart in a spectacular fashion once the meal had concluded.

“Now, that the meal has finished, let’s clear the table and talk.” At Thorin’s words, there was a flurry of activity as Bilbo’s dishes and utensils began being passed and tossed about the room.

“Excuse me,” the Hobbit  called, “there’s no need for that, I can manage quite well on my own.” He was ignored, as the worse guests, he had ever had the misfortune to host began to sing.

Chip the glasses and crack the plates!
Blunt the knives and bend the forks!
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates -

“ENOUGH!” Bilbo roared out, praying to any Valar that would listen for patience and wondering what he had done to deserve this punishment. Everything in his smial seemed to shudder with the force of his rage. He had been perturbed since Gandalf and ‘imposed’ on his hospitality, upset since Dwalin and his impolite greeting had knocked on his door. His ire had only risen as the night had worn on. He was close to having it under control until King Thorin Oakenshield had opened his self-centered pompous mouth. Now, the last thread of control had snapped and the Dwarves were in for an explosion that few had ever seen and Bilbo wasn’t even going to try to stop it.

“Enough I say,” his voice dropped to barely above a whisper but carried and was dripping with disgust. “You are guests in MY home and not some low-end tavern. I expect a little respect. Those dishes are one of the few things of my mother’s that I was permitted to keep after her passing. I would appreciate it if you would treat them like you would any of your own family heirlooms. They might not be as grand to you as any weapon, but they hold the same importance. The Shire has known relative peace since its founding. Disputes are settled over dinner tables, status is displayed in the quality and age of your cook and dinnerware."

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo broke off from his impromptu culture lesson. He rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling very weary. He turned to Gandalf, whose eyes were glinting with amusement. It honestly made Bilbo want to hit him.

“Did you even speak to one of them or did you just neglect my request entirely?” His voice was still quiet and he had to work to keep it from trembling, with some unknown emotion. “I only asked for two things, Gandalf, two. Was that so hard to ask or do you only care for your own plans? All I wanted was know how many I was providing a meal for and for you to pass on the request for them to be polite.”

“Now see here, Halfling,” Thorin cut in. “This is a company of Dwarves. You cannot expect them to conform to Hobbit standards of behavior. They have shown most polite behavior.” As soon as Thorin had started speaking Bilbo had visibly tensed, now he was bristling, as he rounded on the displaced king.

“You, Master Oakenshield, would do well to remember that you are in the Shire, specifically Hobbiton, which the land of my people, Hobbits; not Dwarves. You are in BagEnd, a Hobbit home, my home . Even though you were not invited and most of you are not welcome, I still chose to provide a meal for you and your people, might I point out you and your company ate a month's worth of my food, that I buy with my money. From how the evening progressing, I will be offering you a place to stay for the night, because the only place that can accommodate a group of your size is The Prancing Pony in Bree, which you will not reach before dark.

“From any of this, where do you get the idea that I need to comply with and allow behavior I deem unacceptable. I have already more than endured enough of your so-called polite behavior. Between, yourself, Dwalin, Fili, Kili and Nori, I had dealt with enough.” There were protests from the Dwarves at his statement, but Bilbo was not having it. His cool gray eyes flicked over the group and once silence returned, he spoke.

“Thorin has insulted me, pretty much every time he has opened his mouth. Dwalin greeted me with one of the most insulting bows I have ever seen. Fill and I have addressed our issue and he has been the only one polite enough to apologize. Kili, my name is Bilbo Baggins. B- A -G-G-I-N-S, Baggins. Nori, you had better return my silverware and other trinkets or there will be repercussions.”

“How do you accuse me of theft,” Nori shouted indignantly.

There was a dangerous glint in Bilbo’s eye as he snatched a knife off of the table and threw it the offending Darrow. There was a resounding thud, as the knife buried itself in the wood of the table between two of Nori’s fingers. “Do not ever accuse me of lying,” Bilbo growled. “Return my items or you will find out how true my aim is."

Silence descended as all of the Dwarves looked at the nearly vibrating Hobbit in a mixture of awe and fear. When the offender made no move to comply with Bilbo's wishes, he took another knife off the table. Nori glared at their host, challenging him. Cold gray eyes narrowed, as the Glwysed Kuduz adjusted his grip on the knife.

"How dare you…" Thorin interrupted but promptly stopped talking when he found a gleaming dagger pointed in his direction. His mouth snapped closed as he surveyed the creature who would dare threaten him. If he was honest with himself, a trickle of fear ran through him, because he had no clue where the halfling had pulled the well-sharpened blade from and he was without a sword.

"Let me make one thing clear," Bilbo hissed, eyes darting around the room, watching the Darrows, who were realizing the danger they were in. "I don't tolerate anything less than a Hobbit of my rank deserves. Now, you don't know what that rank is, but it does not matter because I am your host and you are merely guests. Degrading me, stealing from me and lying to me, is much less than the treatment I deserve. Of the three, lying is considered the worst in the eyes of a Hobbit. We are always truthful, to the point there are those who believe we have the inability to lie. So take this as the absolute truth, I can kill half of you before you would even realize it. Stop trying to test me."

He looked back to Nori and saw a pile of silverware and other trinkets that had not been there previously. Nodding, he flipped the knife over in his hand then secreted it away onto his body somewhere. Then, he returned his attention to Thorin, seeing if the king was going to challenge him further. He could see a fire burning in the other's eyes but took his silence as capitulation. The dagger, too, returned to its previous hiding place.

"Bilbo," a voice called, making the Hobbit turn to the speaker.

"Yes," he queried, meeting the confused blue eyes of the Maia.

"What happened?"

"I told you already." He sighed, his voice weary, there was a broken quality to it. "Do you want the truth or silence?"

"The truth, always the truth." Gandalf must have misunderstood something when he spoke with Bilbo this morning. The Hobbit was always wild, given his Cae ancestry, but never this violent.

"It was 1311 by Shire Reckoning, 2911 of the Third Age, when Fell Winter hit." His voice spoke of deep pain. "I was 21, still considered a fauntling. I don't know what it was like for everyone else, but it was devastating for the Shire. It is believed half of our people died. The summer had been harsh and most of our crops failed. Then the snows and frost came early killing off the few fall crops that would have grown. The Shire has faced difficult winters before, but never this bad. Food was rationed early on, but families still ran out. We might have survived with only a few deaths, but the Brandywine River froze over and wolves entered the Shire."

His voice took on a dead quality, it was heartbreaking for the Dwarves to listened.

"Hobbits are not people of war. Metals are very limited and what little we have are used for farming tools and not weapons. Almost any Hobbit found outside was slaughtered. By then, my parents had already opened up BagEnd to others, the home was full of Hobbits. Living together with that many was hard, but we did the best we could.

"I remember it to this day, the sights, sounds, smells. My Dad went out to get firewood. It was day and the safest time to venture out. We don't know what happened, but he was drawn away from the house. I went looking for him after a while, to eventually find him surrounded by wolves. After slaughtering the animals, I rushed his side. He was dead, but his body was crouched over something, a small fauntling not more than a year old. I guess her parents had been coming to BagEnd for help and were killed along the way, I don't know. Unfortunately, the fauntling died a few weeks later from her exposure to the elements. When spring came, there were so many dead, we couldn't give them all proper burials. There was no celebration of new life that year, just smoke-filled skies and the stench of burning bodies."

Bilbo lapsed into silence. The Dwarves did not know what to say to him. It was easy to tell he was haunted by his memories.

"Oh, Mr. Baggins," Ori said, making an aborted movement to comfort the smaller man.

"Ten years later," Bilbo continued without acknowledging that someone had spoken, "two years before I reached my majority, I watched as my mother was gravely and purposefully wounded. I held her in my arms as the blood flowed out of her body and the light dimmed from her eyes." He turned tear-filled eyes to the wizard. "Is that what you wanted to know Gandalf? Does that answer your question of why I am not the same fauntling you remember? I have seen death, I have delivered death, but…" He broke off turning away. He had to be truthful, but he did not have to speak and there were some things the Istari did not need to know.

"Oh, Bilbo." Gandalf reached out to the Hobbit and touched his shoulder. Bilbo pulled away from the attempted comforting touch.

"If you need somewhere to speak, the den is open." The Kuduz walked to the table and placed his hands on it. He was not speaking to anyone in particular, but he needed them to leave. "Balin, know where it is. I will clean up in here."

The weariness of his voice brokered no argument. The Dwarrows filled out into the hall. Gandalf looked at him again, before following the company, pulling the dining room door shut behind him. Once he was alone, silent tears trickled down Bilbo's face as the dishes and silverware jumped into the air making their way into the kitchen.

Chapter Text

Although he did work quickly given his gift, it was some time before Bilbo chose to venture into the den. A hush fell over the room as the Darrow turned to look at their host.

"Is there anything that you need?" The Hobbit's voice was dull, lacking all the emotion he had shown earlier in the evening.

"Not at this time, Master Baggins." It was Balin who had spoken first, wanting to prevent another potential argument from erupting between Thorin and Bilbo. It had been some time since the advisor had seen two personalities clash so violently and quickly. "If you would join us, it would be appreciated. I would like to take time to tell you about everything we had thought you had agreed to some time ago when Gandalf told us to gather here."

At those words, Bilbo turned glinting gray eyes towards the Istari. "Yes, please. I would love to not be in the dark much longer, especially considering I had no knowledge prior to this morning. Gandalf only asked if I would like to go on an adventure, then at my denial that I let you come for dinner." His voice was now steely and many of the Dwarves released a silent sigh of relief as he directed his angry on the Wizard.

Even though Bilbo was small in stature, he had a danger about him, while not noticeable upon first meeting, had reared its head and caused the more world-wise members of the company to notice. This was actually evident in the fact that Thorin was now allowing Balin to lead the discussion. Bilbo took an open seat by the fire that had been coaxed back into existence.

"As you already seem to know," Balin was still acting as the spokesperson and was truly the most knowledgeable Dwarf present. "Thorin is the current leader of the kingdom of Erebor. The majority of the company are of the same kingdom although some herald from other places. Many years ago, the kingdom of Erebor was attacked and taken over by a dragon."

"Yes, I know of Smaug, designated as the chief calamity of the age, yet history shows that he is one of the smaller fire drakes to have graced the land. It is believed that the finding of the Arkenstone and the gold madness it induced in Thror that called to the dragon." Bilbo was keeping his voice devoid of emotion as he recited the facts he had learned over the years. While he was not pressing his guests for the truth, it did not save him from being tied to his own power. Personally, he had never understood the Dwarves' and Men's desire for precious metals and stones but had learned that most did not understand the Hobbits love for green spaces and all that grew. In his life though, he had never seen anything harmful in tilling and caring for the ground. As long as it did not lead to gluttony, and attempting to take more than you needed, growing, harvesting, gardening, the life of his people presented no harm to others. On the other hand, many had lost their lives in the quest for gaining and keeping metal and stone. History was full of the harm that came from the greed of others.

"You are very well versed in our histories, Mr. Baggins," Ori commented.

"Not really, young Ori. My mother had a great fondness for the fair folk of Rivendell and took me a few times when I was young. Lord Elrond's twin boys always indulged my curiosity and taught me both of the written and spoken Elvish languages. In one of her longer visits, before my Father died, I read a lot of the library of the Eastern Lands as that is where Hobbits herald from. Naturally, Erebor came up in many of the annuals sent from the Elven Kingdom of Mirkwood."

"Then you are only getting half of the story," Thorin growled.

"Of course I am. I am not stupid, I know this. However, you Dwarves are the most pigheaded when it comes to protecting your secrets. The story of the fall of Erebor has barely been told by your people and as such is not known. I can only know half of a story if only one side chooses to talk. My perceived lack of knowledge is through no fault of my own. I cannot learn what is not available." Bilbo crossed his arms and glared at the King daring him to be contradictory.

Thorin was learning however that the Hobbit before him did not care for his supposed standing as a king and was therefore not intimidated by him. Master Baggins was not being rude, as the men frequently were because they looked down on the Dwarves. He was being polite and cordial enough to Balin and many of the other members of the company. However, Thorin had drawn his ire and that every little action only seemed to enrage the Hobbit more. Thorin did not know what to do, even though the Halfling had shown admiral skill with throwing knives, the king did not see him as necessary and there was something that Thorin just did not like about Bilbo, something that he could not explain. This time he chose to hold his tongue, knowing that the other was in the right, even if he would never admit it.

Sensing that there would be no battle of wills, Balin continued to speak. "Our thatrûn and thatrûna tell that the signs all point to now being the time to take back the mountain. News from the east says that the dragon has not left his mountain in nearly six decades. Additionally, it reaches us from our kin in the Iron Hills that the Men of Laketown and the Elves of Mirkwood, grow restless in the shadow of the mountain. It is believed Thranduil is planning on marching on our home to secure it for himself. If we are going to take back our homeland, we need to do so before any others also read the signs in the stars."

"That explains why you are going, but what does it have to do with me? I don't mean to sound rude, but I have no vested interest in going." Bilbo's eyes held Balin's. "I am not a dwarf, Erebor is not my homeland. You are asking me to risk my life and face a dragon, why?"

"As Gandalf refuses to be counted as a member of the company, we are in need of a fourteenth person, as thirteen is unlucky. Gandalf was the one who selected you to be our fourteenth member and burglar."

"Burglar? Why do you need another? You already have Nori, while not the slyest I've met, very apt. I also don't see how the presence of another will make a vast enough difference if you are planning on fighting a dragon."

"It will make a great deal of difference young Bilbo," Gandalf offered, speaking for the first time. Fourteen sets of eyes turned to the wizard, although only one was narrowed as if daring Gandalf to speak of his nature. "Hobbits are very quiet and stealthy beings by nature, you even more so if the stories of your childhood are to be believed. What is more, Smaug will not recognize the scent of a Hobbit. Plus, I know you have a great deal to offer if you simply allow your Took nature to come out. In fact, it was well known you ancestor, Bandobras Took, also known as Bullroarer… "

"Yes, yes," Bilbo cut it. "You don't have to tell me my own family history. I am well versed in it."

"What did this Bullroarer fellow do?" Kili asked. As the youngest of the company, he could still tell when there was a good story that needed to be told.

"It was during one of the few battles that have taken place in the Shire. It was around a century and a half ago and goblins invaded the Northfarthing. It is said that Bandobras Took was large enough to ride a horse and was the one to lead the Hobbits into the battle. He is said to have knocked the head of the goblin chieftain's head off with his club, but I am sure that is just an embellishment."

"Wow, Mr. Baggins," Kili said, taking time to say the name correctly. "It sounds like you come from a mighty family, the Tooks."

"Some would call them that Kili, I am sure that is why the Thainship has remained in the Took family for so long. Each family has their skills, and leadership is one of the Tooks."

"What is a Thain?' This time it was Ori, who piped up. The young scholar had a thirst for knowledge that few were able to slate.

"Primarily, the Thain is the leader of the Took family, my mother's family. He also has the rights to call a Hobbit-Muster, an emergency meeting of all the families, and is the leader of the Hobbity-in-Arms. However, both of those are primarily ceremonial, as neither has been called for since the Battle of Greenfields."

"So would that make him your king?"

"No, Hobbits have no such thing as a king. Most just view the Thain as the leader of the Took Family. Some might say the Thain's word has more weight, but he can in no way control the other families. Additionally, a woman can never be the Thain but can be the leader of Family Took. As I said, it's mostly a ceremonial title at this point. I believe we are getting dreadfully off topic. Master Balin, I thin…"

"Wait," Kili interrupted. "I have one more question. You said that your mother is a Took. Does that mean you are in line to be this Hobbit-king person?"

Bilbo sighed and felt eyes turn toward him. "All male Hobbits are in line, however, between my cousin Fortinbras, who is Thain, and myself there are twelve male family members, I believe. I have forgotten how many sons Uncle Isembold has had. However, it is all moot, because I am ineligible."

"Why?"

"A Hobbit can only be the leader of one family, I am the current leader of the Family Baggins." He turned to where Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin were standing. "This is one of many concerns I have with going on your venture. Many here rely on me as the family head. I couldn't leave without making the appropriate plans, you must understand if I were to go."

"Of course Master Baggins," Balin replied. "The rest of the company has had months to prepare for leaving. This has very much been sprung on you. At least, while you are considering, let me give you our standard contract for your perusal." Balin turned to a small pouch he had kept on his person and pulled out a rolled-up sheet of parchment, which he passed to Bilbo.

The Hobbit nodded. "Gandalf has stayed here before and can direct you to washrooms and spare bedrooms. They will be dusty as I have not had a need to host this many in some time. I will leave you to your own devices and give you my decision in the morning."

"It is our intention to set out on our travels early."

Bilbo looked at Thorin. "Given your propensity for getting lost, Master Oakenshield, I would highly recommend that you not leave before the break of dawn. As I am an early riser, you will have your answer. Good evening." With that, Bilbo left the Dwarves.

He stayed up long into the night, reading over the contract which would not do and considering his options. Just as he was going to turn in for the night, his sensitive ears caught the sound of singing drifting through the halls.

The pines were roaring on the height,
The wind was moaning in the night.
The fire was red, it flaming spread,
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale
And men looked up with faces pale;
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire,
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled the hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

Chapter Text

Even though he had remained up late into the night discussing plans with Balin and Dwalin, Thorin woke early the next morning. Gandalf had indeed shown them to a number of well-stocked rooms after their host's abrupt departure before the wizard disappeared into a room himself. If they split up into family groups, there were enough rooms for everyone. Thorin had taken a small room for himself and his nephews. It contained one bed tucked into the corner and a rather plush looking chair. It had not been hard to force Fili and Kili into the bed. For all that they acted mature and ready for this adventure, they were still young and naive to the many trials of the world. Dis and Malur had done what they could to protect their sons, then when Malur died at Moria, Thorin had stepped in, doing what he could as Dis and the boys grieved.

Thorin got up and stretched, marveling at the fact that he had slept surprisingly well. The chair had made a better bed than the ground he was used to sleeping on while traveling and many beds that could be found in different inns spread out across Middle Earth. It was evident that Hobbits were creatures of comfort. Although, if Master Baggins' words could be trusted, they had experienced their own hard times; which to Thorin was hard to believe as they all seemed to be fat, soft creatures.

Taking care not to wake his nephews, Thorin made his way out of the room and towards the den and dining halls. Once he reached the main hall, gentle aromas of cooking food reached his nose. Just as he was going to turn into the dining room, his eyes alighted on a set of packs near the door. One was evidently made for carrying on long journeys. It was larger than he expected and had a bedroll tied to it at the bottom. The second pack was a smaller bag that appeared to be holding mainly scrolls. He gathered that the Hobbit had decided to accompany them on the journey.

Walking into the dining room he did not see anyone, but there was evidence their host was awake and already preparing a meal. The table was set for fifteen; plates, utensils, and cups all in their proper places. Thorin saw a mix of foods were sitting out on the table. Having grown used to light meals, he was still quite full from dinner, but he was also smart enough to know not to turn down free food. Just as he was reaching from a piece of salted pork, the Hobbit made his way into the room.

"Not until the rest of your company has awoken, Master Oakenshield." The voice was cool and confident, as additional plates of food were deposited on the table. "Meals are important to Hobbits, as I am sure you have guessed, but they are never partaken of without all in the Smial present." Bilbo turned and to looked toward Thorin wiping his hands on a towel hanging from his belt.

"Now, as I am sure you have gathered from my packs in the hall, I will be accompanying you on this journey." Thorin was going to speak but the Hobbit continued on not giving any indication that he had noticed Thorin's opened mouth.

"As I mentioned last night, I am the head of the Baggins family. Therefore, I must take steps to ensure the proper care of those of my family in my absence and who will become the new head should I perish. It will take a day or more before I can meet you on the road. I do have my own pony and know the roads surrounding the lands of the Shire well. It will not take long for me to meet your company on the road, I will just need to know the route to are planning on taking.

"Additionally, I have made some adjustments to the contract to take into account the unique needs of Hobbits. I will give it to Balin before I leave you this morning. While I am settling my affairs here, it will give him and you time to review the changes I have made. Once I join you, we can discuss the changes. If you do not find them acceptable, we can part ways at that time."

It took Thorin a moment to process all of the information that the other had just given him. "I gather from yesterday, there is little I can say to change your mind."

"You could withdraw the request for my support."

The thought had crossed Thorin's mind, but it would not be worth it. "I could, but Tharkûn would be most displeased and I do not wish to deal with his childlike temper-tantrum."

Bilbo snorted. "Yes, Gandalf can be quite juvenile when he does not get his way." Deciding the matter was finished, for now, he moved on. "Now, you can either take your place at the table and wait for the rest of your people to gather for breakfast or you can go to the den and keep everyone in there by the fire if you think it would be wise for them to wait for everyone to arrive before eating."

"Actually, if you tell me a time it will be fully prepared, I will ensure they are all up and ready by the appointed time. It is better to awaken them for food, then have those awake waiting."

"Very well, you surely know your people better. I will need at most thirty more minutes to finish cooking the meal. If you could have them all corralled in the dining room by then." Bilbo nodded quickly to Thorin before making his way back into the kitchen.

Thorin eyed the salted pork one more time, before leaving to go rouse his company. It would not be an easy task. For all of the tension that was present last night, there was a measure of peace that could be felt in the Shire and in this particular Hobbit home. It was almost as if they all knew they were protected here, that there was little to fear.

In these days, most of Thorin's Dwarves did not feel any sense of security and so slept lightly. Saving deeper sleep for when there were trusted others around. Deep sleep was very restorative, but dangerous because it was hard to awaken from and put Dwarves at risk. Thorin was almost certain that most of his company would be in this restorative sleep, with the possible exceptions of Dwalin and Nori. He started with his nephews, knowing from many years of helping to raise the pair that waking them would be no easy feat.

After trying for several moments, Thorin left the barely awake Fili and Kili and moved on to wake his captain and advisor. Balin and Dwalin would be useful in waking the others. Even with the help of his two most trusted, it still took almost all of the thirty minutes to get the company roused. There was much grumbling as the company made their way to the breakfast table. However, a collective hush fell over the group as they saw the amount of food that had been prepared. While it was certainly less than what they had made available to themselves last night, it was all exquisitely prepared and artfully laid out on the table.

"Well, take your seats and eat," voice prompted. Several turned to look at their reluctant host, who had treated them most graciously, even with all of the cultural misunderstandings. After a moment, there was the sound of shuffling as all those gathered made their way to sit down. As with many other times, Gandalf was also present, even though no one had awoken him nor saw him come in. It was surprising, his ability to remain unseen in the company of those who were a foot or more shorter.

Bilbo ate quickly. He excused himself, but the still groggy company did not take much notice of his departure, focusing more on the food and fresh tea. He busied himself in the kitchen, cleaning all the pans and utensils he had used to prepare the meal. He had made the decision to ask the Gamgee's to care for his home in his absence. The Baggins' and Gamgees had been close friends for many generations, even though the Gamgees had always worked as gardeners for the Baggins.

Bilbo knew that he could trust Hobson Gamgee with his life and his property. His cousin, Otho Sackville-Baggins' intended, Lobelia Bracegirdle had taken an unhealthy interest in BagEnd. Which did not make sense; as according to the Sackville family custom's, Otho would take over as the family head upon his mother's passing. As such, he was not in line to be the leader of the Baggins family, which is the only way he would gain control of BagEnd. Additionally, the Sackville family was one of great wealth. The family simal was smaller than BagEnd but much more luxurious. He could not understand why, Miss Bracegirdle wanted his things and his home, other than she had the heart of a dragon. This was the reason he wanted Hobson to care for the place, in case Lobelia got any untoward plans in her head.

Before being able to leave, he needed to speak the Gamgees, about caring for his home and land and collecting rent. There were a number of smials that had become part of the Baggins' Family Collective. While most were still used by Baggin's family members, some were rented by people of other clans. Those were charged a small rent to use the home. It was just one of the many things the Baggins family did to help those who were in need. In his absence, someone needed to collect the rent for those families. The Gamgees were a very well-respected, older family. Bilbo knew that his renters would feel safe paying to Hobson. He has prepared letters to all of his tenants so that they would know of his departure. He would then go to speak to Fusco, as the next in line to take the title of Head of the Baggins Family. Finally, his last stop would be to speak to his cousin Fortinbras, the Thain. It would not do for the Thain to not know to the departure of one of the family heads. Isumbras would also assist Hobson if he had trouble with the renters or the Sackville-Baggins.

Bilbo placed the last of the dishes in the rack to dry. Thinking of everything on the table, he decided to take some coins and trinkets with him. He would ask Hobson to find some of the older faunts to finish tidying up the dining room and kitchen and to put the spare rooms back in order. He had found that faunts, with the right motivation, were very good workers. He knew that Hobson would not give them their prizes until the job was done right. Bilbo chuckled to himself. Hobson has very high expectations, the house would be much cleaner than if Bilbo did it himself and he was a very fastidious Hobbit.

Leaving the kitchen, he passed through the dining room and into the hall. Quickly, the Hobbit reached the area where his packs were stowed. He found the modified contract and pulled it out. He wanted to give the contract to Balin in the presence of Thorin and the others. Bilbo has no real reason why, other than to have witnesses, so Thorin could not claim lack of knowledge at a later time. He returned to the dining room with his contact in hand.

"Master Balin," Bilbo called as he approached the Dwarf. "I have the contract for you. It is not yet signed, as I made some adjustments to take into consideration some of the differences between Hobbits and Darrows." He passed over the rolled parchment. "I have to settle my affairs before meeting you on the road. We can discuss it at that time and I will sign then or we can part ways if no agreement can be reached."

"Thank you," Balin replied, taking the parchment. "I am sure the changes are adequate or that we will be able to reach an agreement." Bilbo inclined his head, unsure of the possibility, but thankful for the other positive outlook. "When do you think you will join us?"

"If all goes well, tomorrow evening at the latest. I have to travel to Tuckborough, which is in the opposite direction. I imagine you will be taking the East Road toward Bree?"

"Yes, that is our plan."

"Very well." He glanced over the rest of the company. "I must leave soon so that I am not too delayed. As it is, I will likely have to stay the night in Tuckborough at the Thain's request. Feel free to take any of salted meats or long-lasting fruits. Leave the rest of the food though. There is a family who has just lost kin to an unexpected illness. The rest will be given to them in their time of need." He shifted slightly on his feet. "Also, don't worry about cleaning up. I am leaving instruction for some of the older faunts to do it. Most like seeking odd jobs for payment."

When none of the others seemed inclined to speak, he nodded. "Good morning," he said, with a cheeky smile towards Gandalf and made his way out of the dining room. Grabbing his packs, he left his home, starting out on an adventure.

Chapter Text

True to his word, Bilbo joined the company on their second day as the sun was halfway through is decent. The funny thing was that none of the Dwarves noticed him for some time. It helped that it was Fili, Kili, Ori, and Nori who were riding at the back. 

Even from their brief meeting two days before, Bilbo could tell that Kili and Fili were pranksters. As such, it was easy to convince them to hold their silence. It was sad that the path they were now traveling would most likely break them of that. While he was sure they had reached their majority, as it was unlikely Thorin would take children on a quest of this nature, they had not yet tasted of the true evils of this world. 

It was also evident that Ori was only following his brother's lead. Bilbo was having trouble getting a read on Nori. The dwarf was obviously still upset with his actions at the horrible dinner two nights previous, but he was not alerting the others to his presence. If he had to say, Nori was either being forced on this trip, which seemed unlikely as both of his brothers were present, or there was someone he disliked more than Bilbo. 

Aside from the previously mentioned four, he knew Gandalf was aware of his presence before he had even reached the group. The Isitari was the one who identified most of the Glwysed Kuduz faunts when he used to visit the Shire more frequently. It seemed that their powers, their abilities were noticeable to many who wielded great magic. Although Bilbo had been with them since mid-afternoon, it wasn't until the company stopped to set up camp that the leader specifically began to look for him.

"I thought you said the Hobbit was trustworthy, punctual, and all those positive things" Thorin complained from the front of the line, his attention turned to Gandalf.

"Oh, he is. I have rarely met anyone more so than Master Baggins." Gandalf's eyes were quite merry, but he refrained from looking back to where Bilbo was.

"Then where is he? He said he would be here by this evening," Thorin pulled his horse to a halt and indicated the area where he wanted the company to set up camp. 

"The same place I've been since mid-day," Bilbo called, pulling gently on the reins so that his pony would come to a stop. Thorin and the older members of the company turned back to the sound of his voice. "Really, You should have at least one seasoned warrior for a rear guard. It was much too easy to sneak up, even in pony back."

"Can you believe how quiet Hobbits are, Uncle?" Kili called from where he was unloading his pony. "I almost yelled out when I noticed he was following us. You would not believe how close he was before I noticed too. I thought I was a good tracker, but I think Hobbits could teach me something about stealth." 

"Why did you not share with us your arrival, Master Baggins?" Thorin's voice was clipped and the color had risen in his face the more Kili had spoken. He was sure he had taught the boys to be more aware of their surroundings. 

Bilbo shrugged to delay in having the answer. The honest answer was rarely what people wanted to hear. "I wanted to test you. It is always good to know the skills of those you are traveling with. I have found that men are the least aware of their surroundings. Of course, that varies from man to man, some are very aware of what goes on around them, but not attune to Hobbits. Elves, for the most part, are very aware of their surroundings. I imagine it has something to do with their heightened senses. Still, as a faunt, I will say I was able to sneak up on a few. Fauntlings are nearly unnoticeable when they put their minds to it. 

"Now, Dwarves, I don't know much about. I've never had the fortune to travel with any before. Precious few have ventured through The Shire, even less stay long once they see we are mainly an agrarian culture. We can't offer a lot of work and we don't have or use currency. Travel wise, I have been in enough predicaments to learn to always be aware and know the capabilities of the people I am with. I need to know your capabilities to know what I will need to do to protect myself."

Thorin did not say anything for a time but eyed Gandalf's choice for his company. Truly, there seemed to be hidden talents to him, but Thorin did not want to trust an outsider with the mission of reclaiming his homeland. He had seen the lack of assistance afforded by the elves and men. While he had had little interaction with the smaller race, he had known a few who had traveled the Shire. They had little to say, good or bad, about them, other than they could offer no assistance to the Dwarves because they had little outside of farmland and grazing herds. There was not much to say to counter his words. The Hobbit did not trust them, any more than he was trusted. This seemed like a very pointless working relationship. 

"Very well, Master Baggins." With that, he began to give the instructions to set up camp. Bombur and Bifur were tasked with starting the meal, Dawlin and Dori with creating a perimeter. Ori, Nori, Gloin, and Oin were sent to collect firewood. Balin, Bofur and Nori commanded to clear an area for a fire. Finally, Fili and Kili were sent to hunt small prey. With all of the Dwarrow performing their tasks, this left Thorin, Gandalf, and Bilbo relatively alone. 

"What task do you have for me, Master Oakenshield," Bilbo queried. He was not sure Thorin would command him like he did the Dwarves, the ones who looked up to him as king. As long as he stopped looking down on him as if he were a lesser being, a halfling. 

"What would you prefer?" Thorin was not interested in another argument, this time with only Gandalf around, who would no doubt take some twisted enjoyment out of it. 

"I am still familiar with this land. I would be of the greatest benefit by hunting and gathering edible plants. There are some herbs in this area that would be beneficial on a long journey." 

"Do as you see fit." Thorin turned and began unsaddling his pony. 

Bilbo dismounted and quickly removed his gear from his ponies back. He placed everything to one side before returning to his steed. He stroked the amber pony's broad face and nose. "Heddwch, Aurfryn." It had been a long few days for the pair. The last time Aurfryn had left the Shire, it had not been a good venture. He could feel the mounting tension in its muscles. "Heddwch, all will be well." Once the pony had quieted, although there was no discernable difference as it had not acted uneasy, Bilbo returned to his things and picked up his bow, quiver, and a small sack and headed off into the woods. 

~~~~~

"Diolch," Bilbo whispered, touching the head of the doe he had just killed. It was an important part of Hobbit culture to thank Yavannah for any life they ended to provide for themselves. It was an old custom and while it had never fallen away, his people became very careful after Fell Winter to always give thanks for a life taken. Fell Winter was a cruel reminder of how precious and fleeting life can be and that death did not only visit the old.

As gently as he could manage, he pulled free the arrow and wrapped it with the others that he had used. The Kuhduz had caught two hares before almost walking into the doe. Bilbo then pulled out a length of rope from his bag and tied the legs of the doe together. While he could easily get it back to the camp, the Dwarrow did not know of his extra skills, so he would have to pretend they did not exist. 

He was fortunate that this was a smaller deer, one he could theoretically manage on his own. A buck would have provided more meat, but they had not been as plentiful for many seasons. It was as if more females were being born. 

Finished with his task, he turned back to his pack to prepare to return to the camp. He undid the string on his bow and slipped it into an opening on the front of his pack. Then he opened the bag and quickly reorganized so that the herbs he had collected would not be too crushed. Finally, he double-checked that the hares were still tightly tied to his pack. Seeing that everything was ready, closed the pack and put it on his back, then turned to the doe. Lifting some with his power, Bilbo got the deer situated across his shoulders. 

He was not very far from the camp but was a bit downhill. He kept the deer lifted with his power until he was about to break the tree line. He stumbled slightly under the full weight of the doe, but quickly righted himself. He could tell by the noise that most of the Dwarves had returned from their assigned tasks. 
Everyone stopped talking as he entered the clearing. Bilbo made his way over to the fire and dropped the doe onto the ground. 

"Mr. Bilbo, that is bigger than you." There was a hint of amazement in Kili's voice as he made his very obvious statement. 

"I could have told you that," Bilbo smarted off, as he placed his pack on the ground and began untying the two rabbits and laying them out beside the deer. Opening his pack, he pulled out the bundle of arrows he had used and placed them to the side. He would clean everything after dealing with his kills. 
Bilbo picked up the pack and carried over to where the rest of his supplies were placed. After setting his hunting satchel down, he turned to his travel bag. Rummaging through, he pulled out a set of knives and returned to the animals. He had been ignoring the fact that the Dwarves' eyes were following him.

"Have you never seen anyone return from hunting before," he asked sarcastically. 

"Aye, we have, but Master Baggins, that is quite a big kill for you to have brought down on your own," Bofur said. 

Bilbo's eyes cut to the hatted Dwarf. "I want to say I am disappointed, but really, I am unsurprised." 

He started working quickly to skin the two hares and get them prepared for cooking. They would be a good supplement for the stew it seemed Bombur was cooking. The deer, he was planning on smoking through the night. It would make a good jerky that would last the trip. 

Once he had separated the meat from the bones and organs, Bilbo gathered it all up and carried it to Bombur. 
“It’s not much, Master Bombur, but it should be a good supplement for the meal.” He laid out the hare meat on a pan that was holding some chopped vegetables. “I gather you know how to cook hares.” 

“Yes, Master Baggins.” Bombur replied jovially. “These are much larger than what we saw in the Blue Mountains, but I can make them part of the stew. Are there any herbs you recommend?” 
“We Hobbits generally use basil, sage, and parsley. Of course, salt and pepper work with almost any meat. Then there’s the option to use wine if you have it. Wine is a common additive to stews with rabbits.”

“Well, I will have to remember the wine for another time. Dwarves make a rich wine that I think would pair well. Do Hobbits cook with wine often?”

Bilbo shrugged, “It’s as common a cooking item as any. There are some we don’t use, but most have their uses. I will leave you to your cooking Master Bombur. I need to get the deer prepared for smoking.” 

Bombur made a sound as if surprised. “Surely that is a long process. I am sure Thorin will want to break camp in the morning.” 

“It’s been a while since I have personally smoked any meat, it is not my specialty when it comes to food, but it shouldn’t take more than eight or nine hours. The prep will delay me the most, as I will have to dig out a place for my fire and collect more wood.”

“Get the boys to help you,” Balin chimed in. “Mahal knows we need to keep them out of the way. It also wouldn’t hurt them to learn a new skill.” The older Dwarf stood and looked over the camp. “Fili, Kili, and Ori, help Master Baggins with his task. He is helping to prepare extra food for the journey.” 

Not long after the King’s advisor had finished, there were three versions of “Yes, Balin” and Bilbo found himself teaching an unexpected class on how to prepare a deer to be smoked. 

Chapter Text

To say that things became wonderful after that impromptu lesson would be a stretch. While Bilbo did have better relationships with some of the Dwarves, many were just as cool toward him as ever. This annoyed the Hobbit because he was not sure what he had done to earn their continued disdain.

It was understandable that Thorin and he would not be considered friends. Their clash that first night was not something that you just got over easily. Additionally, they always seemed to be at each other's throats, the few times they had to directly interact. Thorin always seemed to be condescending toward Bilbo and the Hobbit wondering if that was his nature or Thorin just hated Bilbo for some reason. While it was annoying, it didn't bother Bilbo. He was used to dealing with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. By Yavanna, she was a lot to handle and quite possibly the only Hobbit Bilbo has ever hated. It was one of the reasons he had left Hobson Gamgee in charge of his simal. The kindly gardener could be quite strong-willed with the occasion called. Bilbo had been born five years after Hobson and the two had been raised together. Hobson was more family than his Took cousin and Bilbo had brought the Gamgees into Family Baggins as much as he was allowed without the two families being tied through marriage. However, none of that had to do with the Darrow in this Company.

As the captain of the guard, it was not surprising that Dwalin followed Thorin's lead and did not interact with the Hobbit unless it was required. Oin and Golin seemed to keep to themselves, even among the other Dwarves, so Bilbo did not concern himself with them. If he were honest with himself, which he always was, Balin confused him. Unlike Dwalin, his brother was kind and polite in all of his interactions with the Kuduz. However, there was an odd weariness to Balin. As if there was something about the Hobbit that worried him or that he disliked. Bilbo wanted to ask but refrained. He was not sure that he would get an honest answer without manipulation and he was not sure he would like whatever honest answer he got.

Of the remaining 'older' Dwarves, there was Dori, who seemed to tolerate his presence because Ori had warmed up to him. It amused Bilbo how much Dori reminded him of some of the fussier Hobbits he had met. He cared a great deal about his appearance and while his clothes showed some wear from the trip, they were still very well cared for and maintained. Once a week, Dori made his two brothers sit down for a cup of tea. While Ori complied with the ritual, it was always amusing to watch Dori hound Nori into compliance.

Ori, much like Fili and Kili seemed to have warmed up to him. There had been other 'lessons', since the one on how to smoke a deer. One memorable night was when Bilbo showed Kili how to make arrows. While Bilbo would never claim to be a master of the art, he was better than the youngest Dwarf, who had not had a lot of proper training, even though his arrows worked quite well.

~~~~~~

"Mr. Bilbo," Kili started, "It seemed like your home is a very peaceful land. I know you told us about the winter the wolves caused a problem, but why do Hobbits know so much about how to make bows and arrows?"

"Well, Kili it stems from a time before the Shire was founded." Bilbo started.

"Wait, Master Baggins," Ori called running up. "Do you mind if I write this down?" He waved the score he was carrying. "As the company scribe, it is my job to keep records of the journey. However, we have very few records of Hobbits. I would like to change that, with your permission."

Bilbo thought for a moment. "I can only speak for Family Baggins. You would need the approval of the other eleven. I ask that you use Westron, so it can be read and approved. However, if it is not approved it will not be given back to you. Is this acceptable to you Master Ori?"

The young scribe was vigorously nodding his head. "Yes, very much so. I understand that you cannot speak for all of your people. It would be like one of the seven Dwarf Kings deciding for the other six." Ori sat down and unrolled the scroll on a nearby flat rock and pulled a quill and inkwell out of his pocket. "This will give me a chance to work on my Westeron. Master Balin started teaching me how to write the language about a year ago."

"As fascinating as all of this is," Kili cut in impatiently, "Mr. Bilbo was going to tell me about Hobbits and Arrows."

"Yes, yes, Kili," Bilbo countered, waving at the young Dwarf. "I can't say when the practice first began, we've lost a lot of our history. However, I know it became prevalent during the Wandering Days."

"So, the Shire wasn't your first home." This was Ori. He had already jotted a fair number of notes, even though Bilbo had not said a lot.

"No, it is our second home. Hobbits used to live in a settlement along the Anduin River. Around the year 1000 of the Third Age, my people left their home there."

"Why did they leave?" Ori asked. Bilbo could tell Kili was getting exasperated but answered the question anyway.

"It is not known. Many of the records, books, and stories of our people and history were lost when they left. The time between leaving the Anduin River and settling the Shire is known as our Wandering Days. However, this was about 600 years."

"Did you say 600 years?" Fili asked, having joined the group. Bilbo was surprised to see Bofur and Nori sitting alongside him. "That would be like 2 generations of Dwarves living without a home. The Dwarves of Erebor only had to wander for about 30 years before finding a home in the Blue Mountains."

"That is true," Nori added. "Of the company, three were born before Erebor fell to Smaug and three were born after the Blue Mountains were settled."

"To give an idea of the difference between Hobbits and Dwarves, it is believed seven generations separate the Hobbits who lived by the Anduin River and those who finally founded the Shire. The average lifespan of a Hobbit is about 100 years. The few records we have show that during the Wandering Days, most lived about 80 years."

"So how long has the Shire been established?" Ori asked.

"Well, Mister Scribe, for Hobbit this is the year 1341 Shire Reckoning to answer your question."

"Where did your land come from? Did the Hobbits just claim it?" Fili asked.

"The Shire used to be part of the hunting ground of the Kingdom and Arnon. We were considered subjects of the kingdom until it fell about 350 years later. The Shire is not operated as an independent land and does not answer to any others."

"As interesting as this all is, truly, Mister Baggins," Kili cut in. "It doesn't answer any of my questions about Hobbit and bows and arrows. Could we please return to the point?"

"Okay, Kili," Bilbo chuckled. "What is your next question?"

"Do all Hobbits know how to use bows and arrows?"

"Not as much these days. It is still an event in the spring games, but few Hobbits compete each year. As we have moved toward being farmers, fewer hunters have been needed. When our home was still part of the Kingdom of Arnor, our borders were patrolled and protected by the king's men. There are still a few rangers who watch over our borders."

"Do Hobbits use any type of weapons?" Surprisingly it was Nori, who asked.

"Not really," Bilbo started. "We don't have a lot of metal and forging is not a Hobbit craft. What we have has been traded for over the years and passed down through many generations. We are also not that in tune with stone, as it is not living. We are children of Yavanna, Queen of Earth."
"Who is Yavanna?" Kili asked.

Fili punched him in the arm before Bilbo could respond. "Don't let Uncle Thorin or Balin hear you say that. They will make you take ancient history again. Yavanna is the wife of Mahal."

Kili looked abashed, "Oh, that's right." He thought for a moment." Your creator is married to our creator. That makes Hobbits and Dwarves related, right?"

The group was quiet for a moment. "I don't know," Bilbo said. Uncertainties were always a struggle because he had to truly be unsure about something in order to speak. "We are all creations of the great Eru, so with that, it would make us just as related to the men, elves, and other creations."

~~~~~~

Bilbo shook his head to displace the memory. The conversion had continued for some time. Yes, he was sure he was forming friendships with most of the younger Darrow.

He was also close with Bombur, given their shared love of food. The two were often found cooking together. During that time, they traded recipes and cooking tips. His friendliness with Bombur had extended to the Dwarf brother, Bofur, who was a kindly miner and toymaker. Bilbo had not had as much interaction with Bofur, their cousin, but that was pretty much down to the language barrier.

All in all, he was settling in with a portion of the group.

"We'll camp here for the night," Thorin called, interrupting Bilbo's introspection. He looked around and saw they were alongside a cliff that had a shallow cave inset to it. It was a good place to shelter as they only had to defend in one direction.

Chapter Text

The camp was quickly set up and all the members of the company went about their well-defined roles. Bilbo had seen an apple tree a ways back and went to collect fruit. As they were in a fairly open area, hunting would not be easy, so Bilbo focused on collecting what edible and medicinal plants he could find along the walk to the tree.

As it was still autumn, the tree was laden with apples. Bilbo was glad that he had brought his pack. He filled the satchel to the brim, then returned it to his back. He pulled two more apples off the tree. He munched on one as he walked to the camp.
Bilbo stopped by where the ponies were tied and grazing in a field. He found Aurfryn and rubbed her forehead. The Hobbit then offered up the other apple. She let out a happy whinny, which Bilbo hushed.

"This is our little secret girl," he whispered. Aurfryn snorted happily and crunched through the rest of her snack. The other ponies were looking on, but none approached, instinctively wary of the Glwysed Kuduz. Bilbo gave his pony another pat before walking to where the rest of the company was gathered.

"Bombur," he called to the Dwarf, cooking the nightly meal. "I've got apples. There's enough for everyone to have two. I was thinking one with dinner, then one with breakfast or I can cut and dry half to keep for down the road. What are your thoughts?" By now, Bilbo had reached the fire, where there was another hearty stew simmering. How he longed for a nice stove and some home-cooked Hobbit food.

"It would be a good idea to have some dry fruit on hand. We've portioned out the deer meat you smoked so everyone has some for emergencies. The apples can go with that."

"Very well," Bilbo responded. He had taken his pack off and placed it on the ground. He quickly counted out fifteen apples and placed them in a pile near Bombur. "I'm going to get the boys to help me build another fire, so I can prepare the rest of these."
"You should ask Bofur to slice them for you. I know you can use a blade, but he's quite good at it and can get fairly thin slices. I'm sure those would smoke better."

"True, thinner is better." Bilbo cast his eyes over the camp. It appeared Bofur had not returned to come yet. "If you see him, will you send him my way?" Bombur did not respond except with a nod and with that Bilbo shouldered his pack and walked to an area away from where the bedrolls had been put out.

"Fili, Kili, do you mind helping me," he called to the youngest two Darrow.

"Not at all Master Baggins," Fili answered as the brother walked over.

The trio worked together to build a small fire pit with a fire capable of producing the heat needed to dry the apples. Ori joined them as they were building the structure to hang the apple slices from. Bofur appeared not long after that. He showed the group the best way to cut the apples. Just as they had finished setting them over the fire, Bombur called the company for dinner.

It was a pleasant affair as always. Bilbo was enjoying his conversation with the Ur brothers when the first howl rang out. An ingrained shudder made its way up Bilbo's spine. He knew those howls, the timber, the pitch, it was etched deep into his memory. It didn't matter how many wolves he had killed over the years, the fear of what their howls meant was subconscious.

"It's just wolves, Master Baggins," Bofur said, patting his back.

"I know, Bofur," Bilbo replied. "Just as I know they are a long way off. However, it's hard to forget what they have done to my people, my family."

"Be glad, they are wolves and not orcs," Kili said. "Warg cries are the only warning you will have of an orc attack."

"Then you've obviously never been in one," Bilbo snapped. "Orc attacks are nothing like wolf attacks and are never silent."

Thorin, who had been standing behind his nephews, cuffed Kili on the back of his head. "I should have listened to your mother and left you at home," he growled. "You are too young and know nothing of the world." He stormed off.

Kili looked upset and like he was about to run after Thorin.

"Let him go, laddie," Balin called. "Thorin, like many others, has great reason to hate orcs. It was not long after the fall of Erebor. Your great-grandfather, Thror, wanted to go to Moria to reclaim our homeland there. However, it had been overrun by orcs. Thror was slain by Azog. Thrain mustered all of the Seven Kingdoms to march against the orcs. We were an army of 6,000 strong fighting Dwarves, but as you know from your history lessons, the war raged on for seven years. It was costly, and everyone lost someone. It is where Dwalin and I lost our father, Fundin.

"It was in the Battle of Azanulbizar, that your uncle came into his own, though suffering great loss. Azog the defiler had just cut down your uncle Frerin and Nain, King of the Iron Hills. Your grandfather had been missing for most of the battle and presumed dead. It was in that hour when all hope seemed lost, that the tides turned.

“Dain and Thorin, cousins by blood, brothers in arms, and now fellow kings, stood together to drive back Azog. It was a vicious fight, but Thorin and Dain prevailed.

“Thorin using a great branch from an oak tree defended himself and his cousin, beating back the orcs' advances. Then using a mighty swing of his sword cleaved the arm from Azog’s body. Dain moved in and stabbed the orc through the chest. In the silence that fell a ringing clang could be heard as Dain kicked Azog’s dying body from his sword. Above their foe, stood Dain Ironfoot and Thorin Oakenshield.

“As they lead the charge against the now retreating orc force, I knew that Thorin was one I could follow. He was a worthy Darrow to call king.”

Silence fell over the group as each stared at their leader.

Kili was silent as he contemplated the story. It was one that he had been raised on, but now on an adventure of his own, albeit a calm one, it held more significance than just a story of old.

“Mr. Bilbo,” he asked, his voice subdued and quiet. “Do you mind sharing your story of orcs?”

“What makes you think there is one?” Bilbo didn’t mean for his voice to sound as harsh as it was.

“Just now, you spoke of knowing what an orc attack was like.”

Bilbo ran a hand over his face. He had never shared this story and the fact that he hadn’t was one of the reasons many Hobbits of the Shire did not trust him.

“I’ve never told this story, not even to my closest kin and friends. It is my greatest regret and if I could go back and sacrifice myself, I would. It is a grief that I carry deep inside, more so than the loss of my father.”

There was a hand on his shoulder

“I was escorting my mother to Rivendell for her to rest in those healing halls. It was ten years after my father had been killed in Fell Winter. My mother was heart-sick with his passing and had been getting worse each year.

I was very worried this year because it was the tenth anniversary of Fell Winter and the year of my majority. Under Hobbit customs, I would be an adult and able to fully take over the responsibilities for Family Baggins, old enough to be on my own. I was worried she would give in to the grief and leave me for the Far Green Country. I hoped that getting out of the Shire for a time and to the Healing Halls of Rivendell would help bring her peace.

“We were probably not far from this location when the attack happened. We had built a camp for the night and I gather the fire is what drew them to us.”

Bilbo stopped looking down at his hands. The images and sounds of that night rushed around his mind. He couldn’t tell his greatest shame to the Dwarves. Not when so many still mistrust him.

“There were only three, but they were too much for me alone and while my mother had some skill in her youth, she was now too weak.” The next words caught in his throat. “They thought it was more amusing to leave me alive with her bleeding out in my arms than to kill me.

“I have no great story. I only slew one, but the most important person in my life was lost to me. We never made it to Rivendell, I carried her back home to be buried with the rest of her family.”

The hand on his shoulder pat him awkwardly.

“I am sure you did the best you could, Mr. Bilbo.” It was Kili who spoke. “You are not trained for battle and you were not of age. It would be a lot to ask of anyone. Be grateful you are still alive and you will see her again in the halls of your creator.”

A tear dropped from Bilbo’s eye and he nodded, but otherwise did not acknowledge the youngest Dwarf. The silence continued to reign over the camp until most drifted off to their bedrolls to sleep.

Chapter Text

It was a somber group who packed the camp the next morning. 

After packing his bedroll, Bilbo made his way to where the sliced apples had been set up to dry. Thankfully, it was not really possible to over-dry the apples and there was little danger of the fire regaining any strength. It was a good thing because he had forgotten about it during the emotional turmoil of the night. He quickly collected the dried fruit and put them in a spare satchel. He planned to distribute them to the others that night. 

Bilbo lashed his pack to Aurfryn stroking his mare gently on her nose. After a moment, she pressed her head to his chest and whinnied softly. 

"Diolch, Aurfryn," Bilbo whispered as he gently hugged one of his oldest living friends. He scratched her ears, then turned to the rest of the group. 

The Dwarves were finishing their packing as well and Bomber was passing out pieces of bread as a morning meal. Bilbo shook his head as the Darrow approached arm extended offering food. It would be at least half a day before he could stomach food. He had allowed himself to delve much too deep into his grief last night after he had gone to 'sleep'. His stomach was still in turmoil from his dwelling on the past and things he wished he could change. 

Bombur's smile faltered, but he nodded and went about making sure the other ate. 

"Let's go," Thorin's voice called out. "Keep a wary eye out. The wolves might still come this way." With that, the king mounted his pony and started off. 

Bilbo took his usual place near the back of the group, listening but not participating in the conversations taking place around him. It did not take long for Gandalf to drift to the back. 

"I am very sorry for your loss, Bilbo," he said softly. Bilbo looked at him trying to determine which was the best course to take, knowing that there were thirteen sets of ears trying to listen in. "I will take whatever reprimand you deem is appropriate." 

"Do you know how old I was the last time I saw you before all of this?"

Gandalf shook his head. He had been on Middle Earth for approaching two millennia and to his shame did not remember everything. 

"I was twelve. I am now 51. You have not been to the Shire in nearly four decades and I don't know how much longer it would have been if you had not deemed me necessary for this quest." Bilbo waved his hand at the suspiciously quiet Dwarves riding in front of them. 

"Bilbo…" The Istari started but stopped at the wave of the Hobbit's hand. 

"I don't blame you for the events that took place. You are not the master of the world and you are not the caregiver of the Shire. We are independent and self-governed. I don't blame the Rangers who help protect the border when they are able. As much as I would like to, I can't truly blame the wolves. They were starving as much as the Hobbits were. Rarely do they attack us as food. The orcs are a different matter and are malicious evil creatures who only answer to a darker evil than themselves. Honestly, truly Gandalf, I don't believe your presence could have made that big of a difference in most of these events." 

Bilbo then turned his gray-black eyes to the wizard. "I do blame you for not coming by more. You are long-lived like the elves and similar to the dwarves. Forty years with no contact is almost half of a Hobbit's life. Living to be 100 years old is a good life, some get to see more years than that. However, I lost both of my parents before my majority, as did many other Hobbits my age.

"Think of it this way. Perhaps Mother had been able to let you know she was getting married and you came for the wedding. Then not again for another forty years. You would have come to BagEnd. There would be no Belladonna to greet you. No Bungo to fuss and worry. There would have been me, 37 years old, having lived alone for four years. I know that forty years is a blink of an eye for someone who ostensibly will live forever, but the same is not true for the rest of us." 

With that Bilbo made a soft clicking noise and Aurfryn picked up enough speed to bring them alongside Bombur and his pony, Dazbur.

"Aye, laddie," the largest Dwarf started. "I couldn't help but hear what you told the Wizard. It seems that you have been dealt a hard life and we Dwarves know about that." He looked over at the Hobbit, who was resolutely staring ahead. "I might apologize for the ill behavior of myself and my kin. We were mighty poor to you and in your own home. Me mam would be very disappointed in Bofur, Bombur, and myself if she knew how we had conducted ourselves. That party was a touch out of hand, even by Dwarvish standards, but it was most unbecoming in a place that was not a Dwarven home." 

Bilbo turned and looked at him, his cool gray eyes calculating. Honestly, he quite liked the cook of the company. This would probably be his closest friend for the coming months, although his brother, Bofur, would be a close second. He knew that Fili, Kili, and Ori were all partial to him, but they were more like Fauntlings in his eyes. Then he did something he hoped that he would not come to regret and allowed a little of his ability to compel the truth to influence Bombur.

"Is that something you truly mean or only because of what you have learned? I don't appreciate pitying words, under the pretense of kindness. If I wished for that, I would return to the Shire."

Bombur tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm not sure pity is the correct word. Perhaps empathy. I feel bad for your situation and the life you have lived. I am a fortunate Darrow in that I have not lost any close family, only Bifur's parents, my aunt and uncle, but I was quite young and have no recollection of them." He stopped speaking for a moment and Bilbo worried he had pressed too hard. He had not had the chance to use his gift on Dwarves before, so they might be more sensitive. "However, I did mean what I said about me mam. We are not Dwarves of great status like those in the line of Durin, but we were raised properly and taught manners. I am ashamed that I, and Bofur and Bifur, did not show them when you welcomed us into your home."

"Then I accept your apology, Master Bombur." 

The pair road in silence for a while, until they could hear approaching hoof steps. "So, Mister Baggins," it was Ori's voice that cut through the bubble of peace around the unofficial cooks of the company. 

"Yes, Little Scribe," Bilbo replied. He could tell by Ori's voice that he had questions. 

Ori's nose wrinkled at the nickname but he did not say anything. Bilbo had taken to calling him that when asked questions about Hobbit culture. Ori thought it was an acceptable payment in exchange for being allowed to ask questions. Fili and Kili had picked it up but stopped quickly and neither would look Bilbo in the eye for a full day. Ori had often wondered what the company thief had threatened the two princes with. "Do Hobbits have holidays?"

"Oh yes. I'm sure it's about the same one that others celebrate. There is Lithe and Yuletide. Lithe is our mid-summer celebration and Yuletide is mid-winter. 

“Lithe is more of a whole Shire event with games, dancing, and food. It is a time when we thank Lady Yavanna for the coming bounty and for providing for us. I’ve talked about them a little in the past when Kili wanted to know about bows and arrows. 

“Yuletide is more of a holiday for family and obviously spent in the home.” Bilbo paused and they rode in silence for a while. “There are other more minor holidays and of course the celebration of birthdays is important. 

The three youngest Darrows continued asking questions as the company traveled throughout the day. 

"Master Baggins," Fili started. There was a hesitancy to his voice. "The evening we arrived at your home when I dumped my weapons in your arms…" 

Bilbo rubbed his forehead. He knew where the question was going, but did not want to answer it. "You want to know why it burned my skin," Bilbo said and thought about what he was going to say. "It is a trait that was first seen during our Wanderings Day. While the number decreases with each generation, there are always Hobbits born with an allergy to iron and related metals. I am one of those Hobbits, I am actually one of the most sensitive born in a number of years."

"Are there any other aspects of this…" Ori paused searching for the correct term. "Illness?"

Bilbo smiled. "Hobbits call it the glwyed priodoleddau, which in Westeron would be along the lines of the fair traits, which come from our unusually pale skin. There are some other physical traits. Our hair colors tend to be black to a fair blond, rather than the more standard browns. Our eyes tend to be jewel tones." 

Before he could continue, Thorin's voice called out they had reached a stopping point for the night.

Chapter Text

The days trickled along in much of the same manner. They had stopped in a small clearing where the shell of a burnt-out house stood. Thorin began giving instructions to the members of the Company. 

"I think it would be wiser to move on. We should continue to make our way towards the Hidden Valley." The wizard had not yet gotten off his horse but moved to the front of the line. 

" Enough wizard, " Thorin growled in return. "We are tired. The ponies are tired. We need rest. There is not much daylight left. We will camp here."

"But Thorin…"

Bilbo turned out the argument as he began to remove everything Aurfryn. He was becoming quite skilled at swiftly unburdening his pony each evening. He wanted to give her the longest rest possible. He pulled a small brush from one of the outer pockets of his pack and began to stroke her coat. After a moment, his concentration was broken as Gandalf rode past and away from the group. 

"Gandalf, where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense."

"And who's that?"

"Myself, Mr. Baggins! I've had enough of dwarves for one day."

Bilbo rolled his eyes as the Wizard stormed off. It was like he expected Thorin to just give in to his desires. Bilbo had known the Dwarf for the shortest amount of time and even he could see the stubbornness that ran like a vein of mithril through him. 

"Master Baggins," It was Thorin's voice that cut through his reverie. "Collect whatever you deem useful." 

Bilbo opened his mouth to snark back but deemed it a poor idea. He just nodded and went out into the forest with some of his hunting supplies. 

After about an hour or so as the sun was just beginning to drop below the horizon, Bilbo made his way back to the camp. He had caught a hare and collected a range of herbs and some edible mushrooms. 

Most of the company had settled down in the shadow of the old house. After giving the food to Bombur, Bilbo went to his pack and began carrying everything to the edge of camp furthest from the house. There was something sinister about it. 

"Bilbo," he heard Bombur call, sometime later, "do you mind taking some stew to the lads? They are supposed to be minding the ponies at a small pond just over the hill." 

The Kuduz nodded his ascent of the request before making his way to Fili and Kili with two bowls of stew. 

"Dinner boys," Bilbo called to the two brothers who were both standing unnaturally still staring at the small herd in the dusk. "What's wrong?" He gently pressed some of his power onto them not wishing to fool around.

"Two of the ponies have gone missing," Fili responded. 

Bilbo's gray eyes flicked over the group quickly counting. Indeed there were only twelve. He breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed Aurfryn was still among them. It had taken a little training the his mare to be willing to go with any of the Darrow for any reason.

"They can't have gotten far," he reasoned. 

It was then his sensitive ears picked up a winning cry on the wind. He dropped the bowls of stew and took off. "Fili with me, Kili go inform the others."

"But…" the younger cried. 

"Do as you're told," Bilbo bit back as he disappeared into the tree line. 

"Just go Kili," Fili said, "I don't know what Mr. Bilbo has heard, but if he wants the whole company, then it must be dangerous." With that, the older of the two brothers took off after the Hobbit. 

While Kili wanted to disobey Bilbo's instructions, he did not want to disappoint Master Baggins and if Fili was right and it was dangerous then thirteen were better than three. Hoping the rest of the ponies would be safe for the time being, Kili took off in the direction of the camp.

Fili was only able to track Bilbo through the foliage because Dwarves have keener night vision than most of the other races. He stopped by Bilbo's side, who seemed to be cursing in the Hobbit language. Fili could understand why as through the trees, there were three terrifying large mountain trolls. 

"It seems Gandalf was correct," Bilbo whispered, "it would have been better to move on." His keen eyes flicked over the scene and remained on the two ponies who were cowering in a ramshackle pen. 

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don't look like mutton again tomorrer," said one of the trolls. 

"Shut yer mouth!" One of the other trolls answered. "How much more d'yer want? And time's been up our way, when yer'd have said 'thank yer Bill' for a nice bit o' fat valley mutton. 'Sides, these ain't sheep; these is West Nags!"

"I don't like horse. I never have." The third responded. He was cuffed upside the head by the one who seemed to be in charge of the cooking. 

"What are we going to do," Fili whispered. "We can't let our ponies be eaten." 

Bilbo put a finger to his lips and motioned for Fili to follow him. They crept around the edge of the trolls' camp and unbeknownst to Fili, Bilbo began to press his power onto the three trolls. He did not know how susceptible they would be. Their dimwittedness could make it easier, on the other hand, he wondered if their thick hide would act as a deterrent. 

As the pair circled the camp, the trolls kept bickering with each other. Finally, they were across from the small pen with the two ponies in it. Fortunately, it looked easy to get into. Unfortunately, it was directly in the line of sight of the one who called himself Bill. Bilbo was calculating the pros and cons of revealing his power to Fili. It would be the fastest way to get the ponies out of danger, but it might damage his standing with the company. However, he doubted it would stay hidden forever. Might as well let be known by doing something positive.

"Stay silent," Bilbo snapped in a low voice to Fili. He couldn't afford any distractions at the moment. Reaching out a hand, he imagined the feel of the rope on the gate and what it would be like to untie and lift it away. While the use of his hands was not necessary, in some situations it made it easier to complete a task. As his fingers flicked through the imagined task of opening a gate, the rope began to move and then fell away.

"The rope just came off," Fili whispered. "Mr. Baggins…"

"Fili," Bilbo growled. His eyes flicked over to the orcs. 

"You're a fat fool, William, as I've said afore this evening." The troll who was complaining about the food was shouting as he stood and shook a finger at William/Bill, who seemed to be the leader. 

" And you're a lout, Bert. "

"And I won't take that from you, Bill Huggins, " 'Bert' replied and put his fist in William's eye. Then there was a gorgeous row.

Bilbo realized it would be now or never. "Be ready to catch a pony." Then with both hands, he pushed up into the empty air and pulled back. The gate, a little over three fathoms away, swung open and the ponies, unfortunately, bolted away from where Bilbo and Fili where hiding. "By Yavanna."

"Oi, the nags are escaping," the third non-fighting troll called. 

The other two stopped tussling and turned for the now empty pen. "How they get out?" 

It was William who spoke next. "Someone opened the gate. Bert, go get the ponies. Tom, help me search for whoever let them out." 

"Durin's beard," Fili whispered. As the two lumbering creatures made their way to the section of trees that hid him and Bilbo. 

"Fili run," Bilbo barked, scampering off into the trees. Once he heard the footsteps of the Dwarf behind him, Bilbo began pulling down trees over their path as obstacles. 

Fortunately or unfortunately as the case turned out, the two quite literally collided with the rest of the company who were approaching. 

"What's all this," came Thorin's gruff voice as he got up from the ground.

There was a cacophony of noise behind them. "Trolls," Bilbo responded as William and Tom crashed through the trees into view. 

"Oi Tom, it's dwarves. Catch them," William instructs and the two come lumbering forward. 

What happened next, Bilbo could only describe as chaos. Things were slowly going in the Company's favor. The trees were a hindrance to the trolls' movement in the forest, but every time they crashed into one, the Dwarves had to scatter to not be crushed. Bilbo was mostly trying to stay out of the way as his bow and quiver were at the camp and most of what he could use as projectiles would be useless against the hide of the trolls. He kept trying to get to Kili as the Dwarf was armed with the bow. 

However, the fight was brought to a grinding stop when unknown to everyone, the third troll appeared and managed to catch Fili. "Drop yer swords and things or I'll crush him." All of the dwarves quickly put down their weapons and the group was herded to the trolls' camp and one by one bound in a sack.

Chapter Text

Bilbo ended up in a pile with Thorin, Kili, Bombur, Balin, and Golin. He didn't really care about the rest, he needed Kili. He wriggled closer to the archer, using a little of his power to help out. 

"Kili," he whispered, "how many arrows can you shoot at a time?"

"How is that going to help up Mister Baggins?" 

"Just tell me. How many?" 

"One with precision, two fairly close to different targets. I've tried three for fun, but it didn't work out well."

Bilbo thought for a moment. "How much power can you put behind three?" 

"Not much."

"How quickly can you fire three arrows in succession?"

"Probably less than half a minute, but why." 

"Please just trust me. I'm going to get you out of that bag. I need you to get to your bow, the weapons were left where we were caught. When you're ready, hoot like an owl twice, count to ten, then twice more. After that fire at each troll's head. I know you have questions, I will try to answer them later if we are still alive, but please just trust me for now." 

Kili nodded not sure how any of this would happen or help, but he did trust their burglar. He was about to ask another question when he felt the rope drop away from his neck.

"Wait until I can distract them." With that Bilbo got to his feet and hopped forward. He could only hope that this rash plan worked out. 

" They should be sauteed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage. " Bert was telling the other two. 

" That does sound quite nice, " replied Tom. 

"You don't have time for all of that," shouted Bilbo, drawing the troll's attention as he moved away from where the others were piled on each other. "Dawn is coming soon. To be honest," Bilbo continued. "I'm surprised you trolls even know what sauteing and sage are." He also began layering the area with his power of truth-telling. It was easier to blanket the whole area than try to directly affect a few beings. 

"What you mean, surprised?" Bert asked looking at him from where he was turning the spit. "We trolls are supreme cooks."

"No, no you can't be," Bilbo responded now halfway around the camp. "Otherwise you wouldn't be using sage." He hoped Kili was sneaking away. This type of banter was not something he was good at. 

Tom leaned down to look in Bilbo's face. "What do you suggest, little elf-man?"

"Elf-man? That's offensive. I'm a Hobbit, Tom honestly." By this time, Bilbo had already undone the knot in his rope but was holding everything in place until Kili was ready. 

"Don't care what you are as long as I can eat you. How you know my name?"

"I was watching you with one of my companions. We were trying to get our ponies back. Very rude of you to try and eat them. We have places to be, eaten ponies would slow that down and be inconvenient."

"Ask him about cooking dwarves again?" Bert interrupted. "I still think sage would be best."

"Shut up, Bert," William replied. 

"I would use rosemary for one," Bilbo interjected. "It has a strong scent and flavor it would cover up the travel smells. We have been on the road for a while. Although mint might also work. It would give a good refreshing taste." 

"I can't stand rosemary," Tom said. 

"Mint is too soapy tasting," offered Bert. "I don't think you are a very good cook elf-hobbit-man." 

The protests of the dwarves had been growing the longer Bilbo spoke with the trolls. He really wanted to roll his eyes, they were all idiots. 

"There's also thyme and fennel as other options. I just find sage to be very light. It's good for vegetables and maybe chicken, but still a waste of time on Darrow." Then there was the double hoot of an owl. The rope and bag fell to Bilbo's feet and he stepped out turning in the direction of the sound. 

"How'd you get out?" William asked. 

Just then there were two more hoots and then three arrows appeared in rapid succession. This was the part Bilbo was worried about. He easily took control of two altering their courses as he spun around so that one hit Tom in the eye, disappearing up to its fletching. The other hit Bert in the same manner. The arrow aimed at William slid along his cheek leaving a light graze before disappearing into the woods. 

Nothing happened for a long moment until Bert and Tom both dropped to the ground, narrowly missing Dwarves as they fell. William didn't do anything but let out a roar of anger and anguish. 

"Kili," Bilbo yelled turning to the direction of the arrows, "fire." 

"You gonna wish I just ate you little elf-man." There was a tremor in the ground as William stepped forward. 

Thankfully the arrow appeared. Bilbo 'caught' it and directed it at the remaining troll. He was faster than William and soon the last of their capturers were lying dead on the ground. 

Silence descended over the group except for the crackling of the fire. Then Kili appeared out of the forest. 

"Mister Baggins, what… how…" 

"Let's get the rest of the company free, then we can talk." The Kuduz turned to the group over the fire. "Kili, can you push down one of the supports in that direction" Bilbo pointed away from himself. "I'll take care of the rest." 

This time Kili didn't try to ask any questions. After pulling on some gloves that were in his pocket, he walked over to the fire. 

"Sorry for whoever ends up on the bottom. We'll untie you as soon as we can. Kili, on the count of three." Bilbo lifted his hands and in his mind, he pictured placing one on the other support and one in the middle of the group. "One… two… three…" 

The two pushed together and with their combined effort and the rusted nature of the metal, the bars gave away. The spit of Dwarves hit the ground, just shy of the rocks around the fire, and rolled, running into Bert's body. 

Bilbo was breathing heavily. It had been a while since he had done this much work. Kili was already moving over to the group, using one of his arrows as a blade to cut the bindings on the others. The troll's camp became a buzz of activity. Bilbo did his best to stay out of the way, however, it was not to last as he saw Thorin striding up to him. 

"And what was that Halfling," he growled out. "What kind of dark magic were you wielding?" 

Bilbo had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "It's not magic, Dwarf. It is an ability." He crossed his arms and stared up a Thorin. 

"I have a name." 

"So do I." 

Balin, ever the peacekeeper between the two, walked up. "Laddie, do you mind explaining?" 

"Some Kuduz, who we call Glwyed Kuduz, are born with extra abilities and traits. I am one of the few as it is dying out." 

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Bilbo held a hand out to Thorin as if that was the answer to everything. Balin at least looked a little chagrinned. "Besides, I haven't been demanding knowledge of the secrets of Dwarven Culture. I don't see why I'm required to share mine." 

"Aye, you are right, Master Baggins." 

"What are these abilities?" Thorin asked. 

"Well as you've seen, I'm telekinetic, I can move things without touching them. I don't have to use my hands, but it helps in picturing certain tasks. I can't touch iron because it burns my skin, which you already know. I can't lie and if I desire neither can those around me."

"Why should we trust you?"

This time Bilbo did roll his eyes. "I just said that I can't lie. Ask Gandalf, he's known me since I was a faunt."

"Is there anything else we should know," Balin asked. 

"Not really, besides what I already told you, I just look different from other Hobbits." 

Kili who had been standing off to the side interrupted the conversation. "Uncle Thorin, how can you not trust Mister Bilbo? He killed three trolls. If he wasn't trustworthy he could have escaped. I'm sure it would have been easy with his powers." 

"What about this ability to make others tell the truth?" Thorin asked ignoring his nephew. 

"I can't force you to speak. If you don't want to talk, then you don't have to. However, you won't be able to tell falsehoods."

"How will we know if you're using this ability on us?"

"You won't unless I deem it so." Bilbo met Thorin's gaze. He focused on the company's leader. "Say something that Balin or Kili would know is false."

"I love the elves of Mirkwood." Thorin offered. There was a snort from one of the company members who had gathered around. 

"Again," Bilbo said this time blanketing the area with the weight of his ability to compel the truth. 

"I hate the elves of Mirkwood, especially Thranduil." 

"My power makes you say what is true, however, you could have chosen not to respond. Right now I am letting you feel what my ability is like, but I don't have to. I am not a clumsy fauntling." He dropped the compulsion. 

"I guess you can remain with the company for now." 

Bilbo quirked an eyebrow. "Do you think you could make me leave? You could ignore me or talk down to me." He tilted his head to the side. "But that is not much different than how you already treat me. I am here of my own choice, I will leave at my choosing as well." 

Everything was interrupted by the return of Gandalf. "Well, it seems you all had an interesting night. Perhaps you might listen to me the next time I suggest we camp elsewhere."  The Isatari walked over the the three trolls. "Bilbo, is this your work?"

"With the help of Kili."

Gandalf nodded. "Yes, you are quite skilled, I think you might put Bullroarer Took to shame. Your mother and father would be proud of you. Defense of others is an honorable trait." 

"Yes, well…" 

" Anyhow we are wasting time now. Don't you realize that the trolls must have a cave or hole dug somewhere near to hide from the sun in? We must look into it!"

They searched about, and soon found marks of trolls' stony boots going away through the trees. They followed the tracks up the hill, until hidden by bushes they came on a big door of stone leading to a cave. But they could not open it, not though they all pushed while Gandalf tried various incantations.  

"Bilbo," Gandalf started.

"Yes, yes," he replied. "I can get the lock."

"Why didn't you say that before?" Nori grumbled. 

"No one asked." Bilbo approached the door. This would be tedious with nothing to see or feel. After longer than he cared to admit, the lock gave and the door opened a crack. The smell permeated the space almost instantly and Bilbo took a step back. "I think I'd rather go find the ponies."

"Fili, Kili, go with him. The ponies were your responsibility. Bring them back here once you have found them."

Thankfully, neither of his nephews decided to argue with Thorin.

"Let's go. Aurfryn will come when I whistle and can lead us to the rest of the herd. Hopefully, they are all together." 

Kili and Fili began to pepper Bilbo with questions as they moved away from the rest of the group. Bilbo answered some and ignored others. Once they were about minutes from the troll hoard, he whistled for his pony. There was a distant winny and Bilbo began to move in the direction. After a few more minutes of walking, Bilbo, Fili, and Kili saw Aurfryn approaching with Snowfoot, Bungo, Rhys, Maredydd, and Lady. 

"Da iawn, Aurfryn." Bilbo was proud that five of the other fifteen ponies were already following him as herd leader. "Can you take us to the others?" Aurfryn snorted quietly and bobbed his head. "Let's go find the others." Bilbo grabbed Maredydd's reigns and then mounted Aurfryn. Without waiting for Fili and Kili the trio road off in search of the the ten missing ponies.

Chapter Text

The sun had fully risen when Bilbo, Fili, and Kili returned to the camp with the ponies. It had taken longer than expected to track all sixteen down. Most of the company was at the camp when they arrived. 

“We found them all, Uncle Thorin,” Kili called as he dismounted and led a small group of the ponies over to a fence to be tethered. “Mister Baggins' pony was able to lead us to all of them like he was tracking them.” 

“Is there anything in particular we need to know about Shire ponies,  Burglar?” Thorin queried not responding to his nephew. 

“Not to my knowledge. Aurfryn was born to a farmer in Bree. Most Hobbits don’t require ponies. Donkeys are better for working the field and of course, cows and goats are good for milk. Aurfryn has always been more of a leader.” Bilbo shrugged and continued settling his group of ponies. 

“We’re going to spend the day here and travel tomorrow,” Thorin told the newcomers. “Dwalin, Bofur, Bombur, and Nori are making another trip back from the troll hoard to get more of the supplies we found there. I’ve sent Oin and Gloin to wash up. Fili, Kili, and Master Baggins, you can go when they’ve returned. 

“Before you ask because I am sure that you will, the wizard has gone off. I don’t know where and I don’t know when he will return.” With that Thorin returned to tending to his weapons and an unusual quiet descended over the camp.

The last of the ponies had been calmed and contained for the time being when Oin and Gloin returned. 

“Oh good,” Gloin said. “You found them all.  They were quite the investment for this endeavor. I know gold was found in the troll hoard, but it would have been a waste to have lost fifteen ponies this early.”  He walked over and gave Rhys a pat on the neck. 

“Do Darrow not raise ponies of their own?” Even though he was often curious, Bilbo did not frequently ask questions about Dwarvish customs, he did not want to be seen as prying. 

“There is a breed of goat that we raise that is better suited for the mountains, but not so much for long journeys like this one and they don’t make very good beasts of burden. We do have war goats, but they have actually been bred for their more aggressive traits and don’t interact well with each other.” Gloin gave his pony another pat. “No ponies were a smart investment.” 

Bilbo was surprised at such a long answer, uninfluenced by his power at that. It’s not that he and Gloin disliked each other. They just did not interact much. Gloin seemed content to converse with his brother, Oin, and his cousins, Dwalin and Balin. Bilbo had had a few conversations with Gloin about his son, Gimli and his wife, Mailsi, whom he could wax poetic about as well as any Hobbit Bilbo knew. 

"Burglar, Fili, Kili, go wash up." Thorin's command interrupted whatever conversion was to come. The three did as was instructed. 

The rest of the day passed relatively quietly with most of the company repacking supplies, sharpening weapons, or resting. Around dusk, Gandalf once again returned to the group. 

"Bilbo," he called to the Hobbit. "I have something for you."

The smallest member of the company got up from where he was discussing cooking style with Bombur. It was a common topic for the two as Darrow and Kuduz had very different approaches to preparing meals. 

“Yes, Gandalf, what is it?”

The Maiar pulled a small sheathed sword from his belt. Beside where it had hung was a larger sword of a similar style. 

“You know I can not handle most metal weapons, Gandalf. To my knowledge, iron is very commonly used.”

”For the most part, you are correct, but I believe this is special. I cannot quite make out the runes, but there is mention of the Cae. I believe it is safe for you to use.”

Bilbo lifted an eyebrow as he looked up at Gandalf. “You believe?” he questions sarcastically. “I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to trust my health to your belief. I would prefer not to handle it at all.” 

“Come now, Bilbo…”

Whatever Gandalf was going to say was interrupted by a bedroll colliding with his head. 

“No.” Bilbo turned and walked back to where he had been sitting with Bombur, the bedroll drifting after him until it came to rest beside his pack.

The camp was now silent, all eyes on Bilbo. It was the first time since the ‘battle’ with the trolls that he had used his power. Honestly, now that the secret had been shared, he saw no point in continuing to hide his ability. The Dwarves would get used to it or they wouldn’t. 

——

At the break of dawn the next day, the company rose, feeling refreshed and prepared to continue their journey.

In line with continuing his decision last night, Bilbo was the first ready with his things packed and attached to Aurfryn. 

"Mr. Baggins, Mr. Baggins," Kili called from across the camp. "Can you use your Hobbity magic to help me pack?"

"No, Kili," Bilbo replied, looking over the number of items strewn around the youngest member's bedroll. "You make that mess, you clean it up." He hid a smirk at the prince's downcast face. In some ways, the youngest prince was young, although it was not in the same way that Ori was. Ori seemed sheltered, while Kili was juvenile. If he remembered correctly, there were only five years between Kili and Fili, but Fili had a bit more maturity about him. Bilbo guessed it was due to being the 'heir apparent' to Thorin and feeling responsible for his younger brother. 

While the majority of the company ate breakfast, Thorin was discussing with Balin what route to take. Gandalf walked up to the pair to look over the map. 

"There are two entrances into Rivendell. One we can make with the ponies and one more hidden. After we cross this river, we will follow a path marked by white stones."

It was decided that they would continue toward Loudwater River, then Gandalf would take over leading the group into Rivendell. Before the sun reached much higher in the sky, the company began the day's journey. 

—

"So Master Baggins," Ori started after they had been riding for an hour or so, "Your abilities, are they the reason for your illness that you were telling us about?"

"Yes, Ori. It is." 

"So, Hobbits, the goo-we-sed …"

"Close enough."

"... that have your abilities, also have the same physical traits." 

"For the most part."

"So, you said you were the most sensitive to being burned by iron. What does that mean for your other abilities? Is there a correlation?" 

Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. "Yes. The stronger the powers, the greater the sensitivity to iron. Before you ask, we don't know why." 

"Are there many like you?"

Bilbo let out a bark of laughter. "Me? No. Great Uncle Bandobras perhaps had abilities similar to mine, but there has been no other Hobbit in current memory that could match what I can do."

"Why?"

"I can't begin to understand the ways of Yavanna." 

"Does it all come naturally to you or can you practice to get stronger?" Kili asked.

Bilbo was quite surprised that he had been quiet for this long. "I had to practice. It's much like a muscle. I could do more as I got older, but I also had to practice using them as well." 

"Is your ability why you are good with a bow and arrow?" 

"Yes and no." Bilbo paused to think about the best way to explain it. "I can move an arrow with my ability, but not with the speed you would be able to shoot an arrow. And the range in which an arrow fired by a good archer is much larger than what I can affect.

"With the trolls last night, I was taking advantage of your skill and merely helping to control the arrow's trajectory. I could have done the same thing on my own with a bow and arrow, but not with just arrows." 

"Did you learn how to fire a bow and arrow for the spring games that you said Hobbits have?"

"No, I didn't take it up til after my Father died. I wanted a way to help defend my home." Bilbo paused momentarily. "Some of the older faunts began teaching me how to use the weapons. I also received some training from different rangers who would come around until I was in my forties. Of course, I didn't let them know about my powers." 

"So, it is a Hobbit secret?" Ori asked. 

"Ori, be honest. Did you even know about Hobbits before this journey?" 

Ori tugged at his beard, looking slightly bashful. "No. I didn't. To be fair, this is the first time that I have left Ered Luin."

"So you see, to outsides, see this is a secret, but only because so few care to learn about us. I would say Gandalf might be the only one who knows about our abilities."

Chapter Text

The first day brought them out of the forest, and the next day to the banks of Loudwater River. Unfortunately, their encounter with the trolls had pulled them away from the old East-West Road. They had reached the river a bit further north than intended, and it was too treacherous for the ponies to cross. They would need to travel south for about half a day to reach the point where the road would cross the river. With the Loudwater River to guide them, the company rode on at a quick pace, chatting in small groups of fours and fives as they were on open land rather than in the confines of the forest. Little did they know, they were being lulled into a false sense of security.

That evening, they made camp just shy of the river crossing. As with every night previous, the company split up to complete the needed tasks. The biggest difference was that Bilbo and Aurfyrn were now in charge of minding the ponies. This suited Bilbo fine, as the sparse scrubland had few edible plants. Additionally, he had been working with Kili, and the youngest Darrow was becoming a superb bow hunter and had gone off with his brother to try to hunt a few hares that had been seen. Bilbo's keen eyes could just make them out in the distance. As usual, Gandalf had disappeared along with his horse, more than likely "just looking ahead". 

Dinner was a quiet affair, and Bilbo decided it was a good night to ask about the fall of Erebor. 

"Thorin," Bilbo started, pausing slightly to ensure his words did not start another fight. "As a member of this company, I would like to hear your people's story of the fall of Erebor. As has already been established, I know only of what was sent to Rivendell by Mirkwood." The Hobbit steadily met Thorin's gaze as the company's leader took a deep inhale of his pipe. 

An uneasy silence fell over the group, and naught but the crackling of the fire could be heard. Everyone was waiting for Thorin to come to a decision. All remembered the shouting match that had ensued the first time the fate of the mountain had arisen. 

"Of those gathered," Thorin finally began, "only three of us were alive when the mountain fell." He paused, "four, if you include the wizard. I was around 24 years of age, Balin and Dori were still young dwarves. My grandfather, Thror, was King Under the Mountain at that time." Thorin stopped and stared into the fire. He took another long draw of his pipe, debating how much to reveal. "Thror was cursed with what is called 'Gold' or 'Dragon' Sickness. Those who have it become obsessed with precious metals or fine gems. My father said it was not noticed in Thror until it was much too late."

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off when the howl of a warg sliced through the air. These cries were much closer than the wolves had been so many nights previous. 

"To arms," Dwalin called, the lifetime soldier reacting fractionally faster than Thorin, who was struggling to push back decades of memories. His order did not need to be repeated, as hands went to weapons as they prepared for the attack. At this point, there was no point in trying to douse the fire. They had been spotted, and orc eyes were almost as keen as Dwarven eyes in the dark. 

The company made a loose circle around the fire, facing out in all directions, prepared for whatever would come. Bilbo noticed them first as they entered the farthest boundaries of his magic. In fact, it was only a moment after registering their approach that Bilbo needed to deflect away an incoming spear. There was no sound as it appeared to glance off an invisible shield until it clattered to the ground just outside the circle to Bilbo's right. 

There was another moment to breathe, then chaos descended. 

A barrage of arrows flew at the company from all sides. Bilbo was able to deflect those directed at himself, Fili, and Kili, who were on his right and left, away. Kili returned fire, and a sharp whine was heard. Fili had his twin swords drawn, but they were not useful at this distance. Bilbo, while he could feel the attacking orcs, could not see them and did not want to waste arrows on useless shots.

A clang of metal breaks the tense semi-silence. Bilbo glances over his shoulder to see Thorin holding an orc's sword at bay with a weapon Bilbo had not seen before. The rest of the orcs take this as a sign to close in on the company. This appears to be a group of at least two dozen wargs with orc riders.

Once one enters the edge of the firelight, Bilbo looses a pair of arrows at the warg, dropping it mid-charge. The orc, showing surprising agility, tumbles off, just missing being hit by Kili's arrows, and lands on its feet. It chuckles and comes forward, sword prepared. Bilbo has already notched another arrow and let it free, but it nimbly dodged. Its laugh is guttural as it continues forward, only to be engaged with Fili in a fight. 

Bilbo redirects his attention, this time shooting an orc off its mount. The warg shows an impressive wolf-like dexterity as it darts slightly to the side, an arrow flying past, before leaping at Bilbo. The warg is much larger than a wolf, and Bilbo had plenty of practice with those, so soon an arrow finds its way into the creature, ending its life. 

After a quick check of Fili and Kili, who are both fighting different orcs, he thinks, Bilbo turns to engage yet another of the orcs number. This time, his eyes lock with the creature, and he feels it. The same slimy, tugging sensation that was present the day his mother died. The day of his greatest failure. The orc's eyes widen slightly before a cruel grin spread on his face. The orc begins walking forward, and Bilbo can see his lips moving. As the orc gets closer, he can hear the last few words, "snaga-a burzum". 

Bilbo is frozen in the dark gaze of a creature almost twice his height. While the feeling of evil dancing along his skin is still present, it feels tantalizing. "Ukhurk uluk," the orc says, the Black Tongue harsh in Bilbo's ears. "Come," it adds in the common tongue. For the space of a heartbeat, Bilbo wants to, just as he did nearly twenty years ago. 

"Fili, no." Kili's voice tears through Bilbo's mind and breaks the sensation. Bilbo looks in the direction of the yell and sees Fili on the ground, an orc blade rushing toward him. Bilbo pushed forward with both hands, and Fili was shoved out of the way of the sword, which struck the ground. However, Bilbo miscalculated his power, leaving Fili in Kili's path, as his brother had been rushing to approach. Kili tripped over Fili, leaving the siblings as a mass of limbs. 

"By the green goddess," Bilbo whispered, forgetting about the orc that had approached him. He began rushing forward, firing an arrow into the orc that had been attacking Fili. However, there was a warg fast approaching. Bilbo reached for another arrow, but found his quiver empty. He had given some of his arrows to Kili, as the dwarf liked the design of his 'Hobbity' arrows. Bilbo had been meaning to craft more, but had put it off. 

Cursing again, Bilbo picked up a fallen orcish blade and swung at the warg. The blade glanced off the thick fur of its head. The blade was much too large for Bilbo, made of the steel he could not control, and was actively burning his hand. However, it did its job and distracted the warg from Fili and Kili. With its attention now on Bilbo, the brothers could untangle themselves and get up off the ground. Bilbo deflected the warg again, this time pushing the warg away with the weapon in both hands, one on the hilt, the other at the top against the flat of the blade. 

Appearing out of nowhere, a sword was jammed into the side of the warg's head, and its lifeless body collapsed. Bilbo turned to the wielder and saw Thorin. The two made eye contact and nodded to each other. Then Bilbo turned to glance around. The fight had ended, and a quick count showed all of their number still standing. Bilbo dropped his orc weapon and looked at his hands. They were both red and blistering, the right worse than the left. 

The hobbit looked toward the youngest two dwarves. They both seemed unharmed if a little bruised. It could have been much worse, and it almost was. Bilbo turned in the direction of the orc that had spoken to him. The orc was gone, whether one of the dead or it had fled, they would not know. If it was still alive, it was outside of Bilbo's awareness. 

This needed to stop. More people Bilbo cared about almost died because of him. Because… because. He didn't even know why. Why was some part of him entranced by the orcs? Why did they call to him? 

"Mr. Baggins, are you okay?" It was Kili asking. Kili, who still had too much light in him to be here. "I saw you holding that orc sword." 

"Nothing, some of my burn ointment and bandages won't take care of in a few days." Just to avoid an argument, he showed Kili his hands. 

"Mr. Baggins, it looks like you put them in a fire." 

"Don't worry, Kili. I've had worse." Bilbo's eyes flicked over to Fili, who was talking with Thorin still. "How are you and your brother?" 

"I'm all good, nothing to worry about. Fili's fine. A few scraps from when you tossed him across the ground, but nothing too bad."

Bilbo took in a deep breath. "Yes, sorry. I misjudge how much power would be needed. I didn't expect him to go that far. I was…" He trailed off. "I could think of anything else to do from that distance." 

"It's fine, we're fine. Don't worry about it, Mr. Baggins. Now that we know it's a thing you can do, we'll figure out how to work it into fighting. I'm sure Dwalin will make you train with us more."

"Great," Bilbo groused.

After that, the camp was a bustle of a clean-up. The orc and warg bodies were dragged a distance away. It was decided that in the morning, they would burn them. After another hour or so, their camp was set up again, and all wounds had been treated by Oin. Slowly, the company drifted to sleep. All except Dwalin and Thorin, who insisted on taking the first watch, and Bilbo, whose whirling thoughts would not allow him rest. 

Only one orc survived the attack on the company. He made his way back to Bolg in the Misty Mountains to report.

"Durburz Bolg," the orc reported. "The trolls are no more. Not far away, we found a small group of dwarves. They slew everyone but me. However, they have a servant of darkness with them. A small, powerful one, but not a child. It is not like the other orc-elves."

Bolg's eyes flashed. A group of dwarves traveling with an orc-elf. This was interesting. "Where were they going?"

"They were on the path to the half-elf city." 

"Did you know any of the dwarves?"

"No, Durburz Bolg. I only saw the small orc-elf." 

Bolg waved him away. He wondered what the chances were that Oakenshield was trying to take his mountain back from the dragon. And the orc-elf. Bolg had never met any of Morgoth's failures, but he had heard of them. Especially, the ones that fell to darkness. And the Dwarves were traveling with one. They just might find their downfall from within.