A Hobbit stands before him.
—a young and smooth face/a withered and wrinkled face/laughing and crying/screaming and singing/the faces begin to blur together into a brown and white mess—
The Hobbit is familiar. He knows this Hobbit. Not personally, but distantly. He thinks he has perhaps seen him once in passing. He cannot quite place where but he knows him. He knows him.
—liquid darkness overwhelms him/drowns him until he can see no sight of flesh/the Hobbit dissolves into nothing but dust—
The Hobbit dies a horrible death. It unnerves him. It is an unnatural death; one he has only seen two other times in his life. It is a death that defies the very laws of nature. He knows this death.
—the Hobbit is saved/carries on broken and shattered in a way that cannot be fixed/lives on in a joy few would ever appreciate—
The Hobbit lives a good life. It is filled with joy and sorrow and hope and fear. It is a long life for a Hobbit, but so short to him. It is a life that is cherished like the rarest gems. He knows this life.
—there is a child/there is always a child/each walks a treacherous road that intertwines with one another/two destinies that are one/one will save and one will destroy—
The Hobbit raises a child. The child is sometimes different but there is always there. One is obviously a Hobbit babe with midnight curls and wide blue eyes that haunt him. But the other... the other is a Man with brown curls and gray eyes and a face set in a frown. He knows this child.
—the faces shift and melt into each other until all he can see is a blur/there is no order or obvious path to follow/only choices and mistakes and destiny that wraps like iron chains around her chosen/he cannot find where it ends but he can see where it begins—
He opens his eyes and knows. There is a Hobbit out there teetering between life and death. There are two children but only one that will be influenced by this Hobbit. But if the Hobbit dies before he can reach this child... He knows. He knows what he must do.
He knows he must save this Hobbit.
~*~
It took him two more days before Bilbo was finally able to corner Bofur, Bifur, and Glóin.
"So how long do you three plan to pretend that I don't exist?" he asked one morning after sneaking up on the three as they began braiding their hair and beards. According to his still healing memory, it was a task that took a good amount of time.
Bofur and Glóin didn't look at him while Bifur sniffed and shrugged.
"I can't apologize if you keep avoiding me," he pointed out, bracing his hands on his hips.
"Who says we want your apology?" Glóin growled as he worked on braiding a part of his beard.
He flinched but pushed on. "No one, but I still owe you all one. I'm sorry I left the way I did. I'm sorry I never told any of you the truth about my past. And I'm sorry I caused you all so much worry and fear. I never meant to hurt anyone. I only sought to protect."
The three Dwarves stilled.
"You're very selfish, do you know that?" Bofur finally commented, his dark eyes as hard as the stone he mined. "You don't care about the consequences of your death. You don't care about what it would mean to the rest of us if you died. You only care about keeping us alive in memory of a life that none of us ever lived."
YOU ARE READING
A Shot in the Dark (Thilbo - Bagginshield)
FanfictionAuthor: Silver_pup Summary: When he opens his eyes again, he finds himself in his old bed in his old home in his old body. Is this death? Or a trick of magic? Either way, Bilbo recognizes a second chance when he sees one, and this time his adventure...
