A/N: Hello! I see you decided to click on my story. Thanks for that. Anyway, this is my first work for the Hobbit, so I'm hoping I don't completely ruin the characters.
Just a brief background for the story, so you don't get too confused while reading this. Everyone, except for Gandalf, is human. Middle Earth is smaller/less wild than it is in canon, and is unified under a single ruling king. Thorin and his company work on a farm which Thorin technically owns. And that's about all you need to know that isn't covered in this first chapter or the following chapters. If you're confused on anything, just leave a comment and I'll be sure to answer.
Thanks for reading, and be sure to tell me what you think! I'd like to get at least one comment, to know if anyone is interested in this plot, or if I should just not bother. So if you like the story, be sure to leave a comment. Enjoy.
General Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything is owned by J.R.R. Tolkien or Peter Jackson. Some of the dialogue used in this first chapter comes from the first Hobbit movie/ the book. The only thing I own is the plot.
Bilbo Baggins would be the first to tell you that he was not a fan of change. He spent his entire life living comfortably in his parent's home, carefully tending the horses and walking amongst his father's garden. Even after his mother and father's deaths he kept to much the same schedule. Wake, tend to the horses, read his numerous books, make breakfast, clean the house... And he would have comfortably lived this life for the rest of his days, had it not been for the fact that comfortable living does not pay the bills.
See, Bilbo Baggins came from a very wealthy family. Old money, if you will. He had never, in his life, had to worry if his money would be there or not. It wasn't that he was a greedy miser, no. He just knew for as long as he had lived that he had money, and never thought that he would ever be without it. His parents had taught him to be very cautious in his spending, you see. But that caution did not take into account greedy kings and corrupt business people. Before he knew it, all his money had been taken and though he tried to fight it, there was nothing much a simple man could do, not one who was labeled a recluse and bizarre by his neighbors. Soon after he lost his money, his house had been taken, leaving him with only the clothes on his back and a few specific items he had managed to secret away before the Men had come to take everything away. All in all, it had not been a good month for him. No money, no job, and no place to live.
And this is how Bilbo had found himself inside a seedy pub in Bree, drinking an ale he couldn't quite afford, but sorely needed.
Bilbo stared into his mug of ale, bigger than any mug he'd ever seen before, brooding slightly over his current predicament. He had always been a happy fellow, but he mused that even the happiest man alive would brood if all his worldly possessions had been all but stolen from him. He took another sip of his bitter drink, wincing slightly at the sour taste. He'd never been one for ale, preferring a good smoke, but his pipe had rather unfortunately been one of his 'repossessed' possessions. He let out a small snort. 'Repossessed' his feet.
In his brooding, Bilbo never noticed the shadow that covered his table, nor the large figure that caused it, until he heard a loud voice speak, startling him greatly.
"Bilbo Baggins. Why, I'd never thought I'd see you in here." The old sounding voice said, causing Bilbo to jump, heart racing. Looking up quickly, he saw a most peculiar sight. A giant Man loomed over him, wearing a grey, aging robe with a similar grey tattered hat. His face was wizened with a long grey beard covering it. Even though every man he had ever met seemed giant to him, as he was rather short, this one seemed even taller than any man he'd met thus far. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel slightly intimidated, though he forced his heart to stop racing and a smile to come come to his face.
"Good morning. May I, uh... Help you?" Bilbo asked, his polite upbringing dictating his politeness, but his nervousness causing his slight hesitation. It did not help that the Man looked down at him with a slight frown.
"Good morning? What do you mean?" The Man asked, with a raised eyebrow. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean 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?"
"Uh... All of them at once, I suppose." Bilbo said, feeling very perplexed and ill at ease. There was something about this Man that made the hair stand up on Bilbo's arms, something that screamed power and control. But there was also a vague familiarity that puzzled him.
The Man continued to stare at him, and just as Bilbo was about to say something, anything to make the uncomfortable moment go away, the Man smiled, and took a seat across from him.
"You certainly have changed, Bilbo Baggins." How he knew his name, Bilbo had no clue. Bilbo was starting to feel very put off by this Man and wanted to run as far away as he could, but something kept him rooted to his seat. Fear or curiosity, he did not know. "Sitting here, nursing a pint of ale... Definitely not the man I remember."
Bilbo felt a flash of irritation flood him. Who was this Man to judge him? He just lost everything he held dear in his life, he deserved a chance to feel self-pity, thank you very much.
"Well, I don't know who you think you are, but I would like it very much if you would keep out of my business. I just lost my home and am feeling decidedly not myself at the moment, so I think I deserve a chance to be left in peace, without someone telling me who I am or who I am not acting like." Bilbo said crossly, frowning deeply at the Man. Had he not had over half his pint of ale, he would never have found the courage to say such rude things, but at the moment he couldn't find it in him to care.
The Man's smile widened and he let out a small chuckle, as he waved to a bar maid for his own pint. "Well, that's a bit more like it, I think. Good to see you still have your fight, Bilbo, because you're going to need it."
Well that's not ominous, Bilbo thought sullenly. This Man was really starting to get on his nerves. He just wished the Man would leave him alone with his misery. And he still didn't know how the Man knew his name.
"You speak as if you know me. Well, I beg your pardon, but I do not recall seeing you at all, let alone long enough for you to know how I do or do not act. Who are you? How do you know me?" Bilbo inquired a few moments later, staring narrow eyed at the Man across from him, whose drink had finally arrived and was presently taking a long sip from.
Long seconds passed as the Man turned his focus onto Bilbo once more, a small frown back on his face, making him look even more ancient. Bilbo felt his breath catch in his throat, wanting nothing more than to run and hide away from that intense stare, suddenly feeling very small indeed. At last, the Man turned away with a small scoff.
"Well, Mister Baggins, you will find that you do, indeed, know me. You just don't remember. I used to know your mother, one Belladonna Took. Adventurous young lass, until she settled down to start a family. I used to visit the Shire when you were young. If you think, you may even recall my name." The Man finished, looking inquiringly at Bilbo. Bilbo just frowned, thinking back to his childhood, but still not able to recall just who this strange Man was. So he just shook his head, making the Man's frown deepen.
"Why, I am Gandalf! And Gandalf means me."
All of a sudden a memory of a midsummer's day as a child flooded his mind, laughing and carefree as fireworks exploded all around. He looked at the Man, or should he say Wizard, with new eyes.
"Gandalf? Not Gandalf, the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks? Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve!" Bilbo exclaimed, feeling much better about this whole situation. Now that he did, in fact, know his conversation partner, he felt more on even ground.
Gandalf smiled at Bilbo, and nodded slightly. "Well, I am pleased to find you remember something of me, even if it is only my fireworks."
"What are you doing here, then? It's been ages since I saw you last. I was still a child then, if I remember correctly."
"Well, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd check in on how some old friends were doing. Imagine my surprise when I was told you no longer lived in Bag End! Curious, I went to look for you, and here is where my search ended. Tell me, Bilbo, what happened?" Gandalf questioned, as his intense eyes bore into Bilbo, causing him to squirm slightly in his seat. He really did not want to tell what had happened, as it was still a fresh wound, but something about the Wizard's stare made Bilbo want to tell his tale, if only to get Gandalf to stop looking at him like that.
"Well... I suppose it started when my father died five years ago, with my mother dying soon after. They had put in their will that everything would be left to me, you see, but there was a problem they hadn't foreseen. Even I don't quite understand it, but to make a long story short, it appeared that there was a loop hole in their will which made me unable to access their money, which in turn means that it now belongs to the King and his various underlings. I've looked at it from every angle I can, even redeemed an old favor from the town lawyer, and there is nothing I can do. Soon after I lost the money, I lost the majority of my parent's possessions as well, and then went the house. Now here I am, homeless and quite possibly helpless." The small man claimed morosely, looking down into his almost empty tankard.
He certainly hadn't expected to feel a whack at the back of his head. Exclaiming a protest, he rubbed his stinging head while glaring at the Wizard, who was glaring right back.
"What do you plan on doing about your predicament, or are you simply planning on giving up?" Gandalf asked, his eyes boring into Bilbo's, challenging him. Bilbo, never one to back down from a challenge, sat up straight, matching Gandalf's glare.
"Well, I don't quite know, do I, as someone happened to interrupt my thoughts." He claimed sullenly. "I suppose I'll have to get a job, but I've no idea where. I've not got many skills, unless you count reading. I suppose I'm rather good with animals, but what good does that do me?" He asked rhetorically, looking away from Gandalf at last to look at the room at large, therefore missing the sudden calculating look that entered the Wizard's eyes.
"Good with animals, you say? How are you with horses?" The grey wizard asked slyly. Bilbo, still lost in his own mind, did not notice.
"Hmm? Well, I suppose I'm good with horses. Mother was very fond of them, you know, kept a small herd in the fields outside the Shire. I would go out with her most days to help her tend to them. Once she... Died, I suppose I just kept on doing it. But they're gone now, taken along with the rest of my stuff. Shame, I quite liked a lot of them." Bilbo looked wistful as he took the last sip of his ale. He never saw the quick grin that flashed on the wizard's face, nor the look of pleasure that suddenly filled his eyes.
"Well then my friend, I believe I know just the job for you! It's quite a distance away, but I'm sure it shouldn't be that much of a hassle, not with those new roads and passes that were put in. In fact, I think you'd be perfect for the job!" Gandalf exclaimed happily, startling Bilbo out of his thoughts.
"W-what? A job? What kind of job? Where?" Bilbo asked, stumbling over his words in his excitement. It was more than he had hoped, to find a job just like that.
With a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, which Bilbo did not seem to see, Gandalf took out a slip of paper and wrote a few quick, neat lines on it, before folding it and handing it to the shorter man.
"Go to this address and tell them that Gandalf sent you. They're looking for a farmhand who is good with horses, as their old one sadly passed away several months ago. They'll take you in and give you a place to live, as long as you're good at your job of course. Now, I'm afraid I must leave now. In fact, I've stayed too long. Good luck, Bilbo Baggins." With that, Gandalf stood up, leaving a few coins on the table for the ale he had not even finished.
Bilbo sat there for a few second in shock, not quite sure what had just happened, before shooting up and chasing after the Wizard's retreating back.
"Wait! Wait! You can't just leave! How am I supposed to get to this place? What am I to do if they don't hire me? Gandalf!" Bilbo shouted as he ran, hoping that the Wizard would stop and answer him. But he did not, and as soon as he left the pub he blended into the hustle and bustle of the busy street, making Bilbo lose sight of him. Bilbo stood in the middle of the street, panting slightly, confused and feeling more than a little lost. Slowly, he turned around and returned to his table in the pub, staring intently at the table as he turned this new information around in his mind.
On one hand, it was a job. He sorely needed a job if he wanted to survive in this world. On the other hand, Gandalf said it was quite the ways away. Bilbo had never been farther than Bree in his life, and now he was thinking of going someplace completely unknown, with nothing more than the clothes on his back? He must be going mad! But still, he could not seem to stop staring at the piece of paper still clutched in his fist. After a minute of internal debate, Bilbo gave a loud sigh and unfolded the note. It couldn't hurt to look, he thought.
Skimming the neat words quickly, he suddenly frowned when he reached the address. "'Erebor Farm. Located beneath the Lonely Mountain.' The Lonely Mountain? Where in the world is that?" He muttered softly to himself, as he felt his heart start to race for reasons he did not want to think about. He was not excited about an adventure. He was not going to leave everything he knew behind for the chance of something unknown. He was not.