Summary: Peace is more precious than any stone, it cannot be mined or hoarded, traded for or stolen. It cares not for pleas or whispers or whimpers in the dark. Bilbo gave his away from the very beginning and has been clutching for it ever since.
Warnings: eventual BilboxThorin plus other pairings. Not beta-ed.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, thank you.
Authors Note: A mix of literature and film. The start is a little slow but it will speed up! There will be detours and changes to elements of the story. I haven't written for a while and I'm a little rusty so I hope you enjoy it!
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Chapter One
He had only wanted peace.
Bilbo clutched at the blanket surrounding him, exhausted from the deep pain that shook him bodily every time he tried to think, to stand.
Betrayal.
The stone corner he had crawled into bit at his bare skin, the ring on his finger, hard and cold cutting into his clenched fist as he hid in a realm of his own.
Fear.
Only the wraiths disturbed him, glimpses of ghosts, whisps of people walking past on the other side where life still held on.
He didn't see the ghosts of those he waited for.
Those on the same side as he.
He had only wanted peace for everyone, but not like this.
Never like this.
Now the thought of peace burned him like a viscous toxin spewed from the belly of Smaug himself.
It made him sick, he could see, hear or feel naught but the cold leeching its way out of his heart.
He had had peace once. And never would it be the same.
Bilbo leant his head back against stone as the memories rushed him.
It had all started off so peacefully on a relaxed sunny day a little over six months ago where even the clouds seemed to hang lazily in the sky. The birds chirped from the trees and the bees wafted around the brightly coloured snapdragons and drooping laburnums.
Hobbiton had been laid out before him, running down from the front of his house and spreading out across his vision. There had been nothing else; no need to see beyond what he could see, no childish urge to run to the edge of the forest hunting for glimpses of elves, the secret paths trodden by him and his mother had become overgrown many years ago.
In fact he had needed to get the brass button on his favourite emerald jacket re-sewn by the weekend in time for the dinner party he had planned on throwing.
It had been a Tuesday to be exact, Bilbo remembered suddenly with a fond chuckle at his former self.
A wraith paused, glancing at the empty corner of the room so far from Hobbiton and lost memory.
'Strange, that sounded like laughter.' It thought to itself but continued on its way.
The next day had been Wednesday.
The day chaos had struck.
If he ever managed to return home, Bilbo shook his head against the stone to dispel the heavy dread sitting at the back of his skull making his mouth dry. When he returned home he would find his Engagement tablet sitting innocently bare on the small wooden table. When instead it should have had 'Gandalf Tea Wednesday' scrawled hap-hazardously across the slate, or perhaps some monumental sign to mark out the life changing events that had begun on that day.
But he had never been good at remembering things.
Though these days that was all that seemed to be plaguing his mind.
Memories.
The shock of seeing a large bald dwarf with bright humorous eyes on his door-step only doubled when said dwarf barged in, hung up his hood with a little more than a 'Dwalin at your service' and proceeded to help himself to the small meal Bilbo had prepared for tea-time.
There had been little time for thought before others had started arriving, and the shock turned to horror and confusion as Bilbo tried very hard not to get trodden under foot while the dwarves thumped and bumped there way through his small hallways and rooms.
"At your service." Followed every ring of his bell.
"At yours and your family's." Bilbo squeaked in return as names and faces and beards all seemed to blend.
He was too busy juggling tea, scones, cold chicken and pickles to realize the flow of dwarves had stopped and Gandalf had joined the throng. But when he did he found he had somehow ended up in a corner nibbling quietly on a scone he'd managed to rescue while the dwarves sat around his table making more noise than a herd of Oliphants.
'It was all quite intimidating.' Blibo frowned finally managing to catch up with his own thoughts. 'It seems dwarves have no manners at all. And what does Gandalf mean by all of this? Bringing these people into my home?' He had started to get a little indignant by this time, bristling at the large burp one of the dwarves had let out as another threw a piece of cheese across the kitchen.
"Now see here!" He stood, his voice little more than a squeak against the onslaught of noise. But suddenly it was silent, all eyes were on him and he swallowed nervously.
There was a long pause as he swallowed, words suddenly lost.
"I-" He started glancing quickly at Gandalf for help, but the wizard merely raised his eyebrows at the poor hobbit, indicating for him to continue.
"I-" Bilbo wrung his hands, glancing at each dwarven face. They in turn glanced at each other, the hatted and most humorous Bofur gave a quick shrug and raised his mug, a large grin on his face at the small stout little man who was feeding them so well.
"To Mister Bilbo Baggins, a most admirable and generous host, may the hair on his toes never fall out!"
"Hear hear!" There was a hearty toast and the dwarves continued their rowdy meal, Gandalf shooting Bilbo an amused look. The poor hobbit sat back down quite bewildered as to how his calm Wednesday had turned into such a raucous affair.
There was a rough knock on the door.
Bilbo scowled. "That's new paint work thank you very much, with a perfectly functioning bell!" He muttered crossly under his breath, however the words seemed loud in the sudden stillness that had fallen over the group.
"He is here." Gandalf stated, a little too ominously for Bilbo's tastes, though who he was seemed to need no explanation.
"I'll get that shall I." Bilbo grumbled thumbing his suspenders getting up, but Gandalf had already made it to the door, trailing half a dozen dwarves.
"Gandalf." The greeting was lost on Bilbo who merely noted the deep voice, dwarven stature and the fact the dwarf had gotten lost twice. In Hobbiton. He scoffed a little under his breath before he became too busy worrying about the mark on his door to really take a good look at the new dwarven addition.
"Bilbo Baggins allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." Bilbo turned and blinked, the dwarf was regarding him with a piercing gaze, almost as if trying to read something deep within him. Bilbo drew himself up a little, trying not to be intimidated by the other.
He'd played this game before. He wasn't a Baggins for nothing and Tookish blood ran through his veins. He met the others gaze steadily.
"So, this is the hobbit." The dwarf circled him like prey, weighing him up with his eyes. Bilbo felt an instant dislike for the dwarfs attitude, 'who did he think he was coming into his house and sizing him up like that?'
There was some nonsense about battles, blades and axes and the Tookish side took over and he managed a quick jab about his skills which was shot down quickly.
"He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." The deep voice taunted and the gruff laugh of the others matched the quick smirk that lit the tall dwarf's eyes. Bilbo bristled but he was still too confused by what was happening and who this furred dwarf was. He seemed to garner the respect of the others and they had chosen him as leader but so far he had merely given off the impression of being arrogant and disrespectful.
"He is Thorin son of Thrain, King under the Mountain." The hatted dwarf whispered to him as they trailed back to the kitchen. Bilbo's eyes widened.
He'd just insulted a king.
Another thought took over just as quickly.
A king under his roof?
And all the others had emptied his pantry.
What was he going to feed him?
Bilbo raced to the kitchen remembering the left-over soup from the previous day. It was still good, but the thought of feeding a king his left-overs made him cringe slightly, the Tookish side did find it necessary to mention the king's earlier behaviour. He felt a little better.
With cautious steps he brought out the warm soup and a plate of bread and rock cakes for the king who was seated at the head of his table. A pauper's meal for a King.
"I'm sorry but this was all that was left. I-" He managed to squeak, his Baggins side stamping down the Tookish curiousty.
The dwarf barely glanced at him as he took the food.
"I'm sorry I didn't realize you would-" He continued unsure of the reaction.
"Pray don't mention it." He was brushed off with little more than a flick of the wrist. A little annoyed but slightly more relieved there was no comment on the paltry rations he retired to his corner once more and was swept away with stories of adventure and the rustle of old maps, dwarven runes and the deep voice that hummed at the back of his skull.
A contract was tossed at him, mentions of furnaces, flesh melting off bones and ash made the dwarves blur at the edges a little. They were all watching him quietly except for Bofur the one dwarf who seemed to have a vested interest in him, pushing him on with words like incineration, fire and the like. The dwarven lord standing patiently arms folded as Bilbo drew in a deep breath, there was that weighted look again and Bilbo staggered under it.
'What was to become of him?'
His eyes widened at the sudden realization.
He had already agreed hours ago when the Dwarf King had first sized him up. He was more than what Thorin had seen in him and dismissed as he'd circled, Bilbo just needed to convince the arrogant dwarf, the others, and mainly himself.
The Baggins side of him rebelled. Demanding he reconsider.
"No." He half mumbled to himself. 'I will go.' Flowed through his mind as darkness over took him.
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