Bagginshield Fanfics

Never Alone

Credit to somewhattookish

Summary:
Quite contrary to what he once thought, Bilbo finds that he is very much at home in his new surroundings with his new friends. But something seems to be bothering him, something bad. It feels as if all this is too good to be true.

It was the most peaceful night Bilbo had ever experienced in all his years, and under the strangest of circumstances. Usually, a peaceful evening meant sitting by the fire with a cup of tea and a good book, quite comfortable in his hobbit-hole, away from the world outside. Tonight, he sat in no chair, had no book and had no cup of tea, but at least there was a fire going. He was as far away from his home as he ever could be. In place of his books he listened to 13 dwarves tell tales of when they were young and foolish; about how they tried in vain to woo young dwarf women long before they had grown into their beards, or how they would sneak into the forges when they weren’t old enough to be in such as place, fitting into cracks and holes smaller than the hobbit himself! They had tea, but it was much stronger and even slightly thicker than the tea that came from the Shire. The fire flicked and crackled and filled the air with a pleasant burning smell, oddly similar to the old hearth of Bag-End. Yes, they were odd circumstances indeed, for but a week or so ago he would never have even ventured beyond the borders of Hobbiton, and now he has seen Rivendell and fought through hordes of orc and goblins alike. The best part of tonight, however, was every now and then a chill wind would blow by and tickle the tips of the hobbit’s ears, and he would look up and see the stars. Oh, the sheer vastness of them. You could see the stars back in the Shire, yes, but never like this, never so whole and unobstructed. The Took in him, which seemed to writhe and stir all his settled years, seemed to finally be at peace. Bilbo wrought up a tired smile. He was happier than he ever had been, but a prevailing sadness was started to work its way into his heart; an expected sadness, for he didn’t want this to ever end, but he knew it soon would. He would help the dwarves gain back their home, and eventually he would have to go back to his little hole in the ground, which seemed so lifeless and stale compared to all this. Gandalf truly meant it when he said Bilbo would not be the same when he came back.

The night grew old, and eventually all merrymaking and storytelling had to come to an end. The fire was extinguished and the beds laid out. They kept close together for warmth, and Bilbo was extremely thankful, for a hobbit is a hobbit, and they do not fare well in cold temperatures. One dwarf stayed awake as per usual to keep guard, and off all of them it was Thorin. A foolish thing really, Bilbo thought, Thorin needed to rest and regain his strength having sustained his wounds. Bilbo had offered to keep watch, an idea which the rest of the company seemed to agree on, since he hadn’t taken on the role of watchman since the journey started, but Thorin was a stubborn dwarf and insisted that Bilbo sleep.

But Bilbo didn’t sleep, he stayed awake, watching the last remaining embers of the fire go out, then looking to the Lonely Mountain in the distance. Even in the dark it was still as plain as visible as it was by day. Oh, how could he sleep thinking of all the riches and wonders that lay in the mountain. The dragon was more an afterthought right now, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as he could.

Eventually his gaze drifted off, staring into nothingness as all sorts of wonderful thoughts and new found memories filled his head. He thought of the stories the other dwarves shared, and how they reminded him of his childhood days. Those were certainly the golden years of his youth, running through hills, leaping fences, playing tricks on his all too strict father, who would give him a right bad scolding afterwards. His mother, however, would reward him silently, giving him cakes and toys as a reward for his foolishness; the Took in him came from her after all.

“I thought you were supposed to be sleeping, hobbit.” Thorin announced. His voice gave Bilbo a violent start, and it was only then that he realized that he was laughing at his old memories.
“I can’t sleep.” Bilbo replied. Thorin huffed, but in the pale evening light Bilbo could see that Thorin was smiling. That made Bilbo quite happy, perhaps a little more than usual.
“Mind if I join you?” Bilbo said. Thorin looked at him a moment before nodding and looked away. The hobbit gingerly wriggled his way out of his bedroll, stepping quite nimbly and silently through the snoring dwarves. Thorin was smirking by the time Bilbo reached him. “You may still make a fine burglar, hobbit.” Bilbo laughed and took a seat beside the dwarf-prince. They looked out upon the forest that they were just in, still full of orc. They sat in a comfortable silence for awhile, until it started to become quite uncomfortable, for there was something Bilbo couldn’t quite get off his mind.