Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit, The Lord of The Rings (both movies and book series), and the characters mentioned. They belong to their rightful owner.
Enjoy! ^_^
It was thrumming again.
Bilbo felt for the ring faintly, his hand very familiar with the touching of his waistcoat pocket to ensure the gold band was still inside. He never wore it again since returning to Bag End for he finds no reason to. Perhaps playing with some fauntlings with the invisibility magic would raise some questions around, and he would rather not explain to the little ones how he got the ability in the first place.
The ring, though, seemed antsy for being idle.
Some nights, he would wake up to faint hissing of an incomprehensive voice that he didn't recall ever hearing before he set out on the journey. Or when he forgot to remove the ring from his pocket, it would rouse him from sleep by vibrating. He would hold it then, flat on his palm, and would feel it warm like it was worn for too long not a moment ago.
Bilbo refused to believe the ring being sentient, but now that he was in possession of it for a while, he thought it probably is.
Tonight was no different.
He sat up from the bed, sighing, and debating whether or not to indulge the rather demanding ring. It pulsed as if calling for him, wanting to be slipped on his finger, and on times like this, Bilbo would regret keeping it. Perhaps Gandalf was right on his advice not to play with a magic ring lightly. If only he knew such a small object would keep him up late and could compromise his rest, he would have hid it with the things he brought back from the journey where they are tucked away in a small chest he hardly opened.
Not that there were no other reasons he couldn't sleep properly. Whenever he was safely tucked under the covers, he would be haunted by grief and his mind would be flooded of what-ifs he couldn't avoid.
Especially in regards to Thor—
Bilbo shook his head. No, he promised. Not tonight.
At the thought of him, the ring seemed to respond, more insistent to be worn than before.
As if it knew what was on his mind.
Despite being warm, it was cold when it settled on his finger. The surrounding was painted with gray and the small room seemingly much darker that it was originally during evenings. Noises were muffled, and the atmosphere stuffed. Bilbo had forgotten how it felt like whenever he used the ring. There was again an adjustment against the slightly heavier air, almost suffocating him.
As everything was in muted in color, the ring was of different matter. It was glowing in golden light.
"Bilbo Baggins."
Bilbo looked around for the source of the hissing voice. Identical to the one he heard occasionally. There was no one. "Where?"
There was a dark chuckle that followed.
The hobbit's senses were already screaming for him to get out, but he remained firmly at his bed, not even compelled to remove the ring. "Where are you?"
"It matters not," the voice said. "Only those who have unattainable desires in them could hear me."
Bilbo almost scoffed at that. Hobbits pride themselves in living a simple life at The Shire, satisfied with their peaceful and sufficient life in the comforts of their homes. His folks never sought out anything that wasn't found at Shire. "I don't have that," he replied, a bit adamant.
"And yet you can hear me."
He wanted to look way (he decided not to for the voice seems to be everywhere). He closed his eyes. "Alright. You have a point. It still doesn't explain why you're here. If you're a being inside this ring that I happened to found before, and angry at me for stealing you away from that… that creature, you could instruct me for your return. But please, not back to the Goblin tunnel, if you may." Bilbo, the ever polite, added, "And thank you for being helpful in a number of times."
"On the contrary, I do not seek to be returned to the previous bearer. Not when I could have more use to you, wouldn't you say?" the voice said. "You have great wants, and wishes to have them. And you can, through me."
"I don't think I know what you say," Bilbo pressed in denial. "You were quite insistent and it's like you want me to wear you. I'm not sure, but that's how I interpret your constant ringing. And so what I'd like to believe why I'm here."
"Oh, Bilbo," the voice uttered his name in a tone Bilbo didn't like, mocking and resembling a spat. "Too simple a creature, to a fault even. You have no idea how much power you wield and the amount of potential for greatness you are missing."
Bilbo resolved himself to not allow the conversation to continue further. "No, I don't have any idea, and I don't want to know. Now, if you'll excuse me, sir."
"Of course, it's not greatness you wanted, not of that sort, no," the voice said. "A sort of… a reality, is it not? A different one, a good ending, like on the fiction mortals like to craft and write on books. Where they immerse themselves in an imagined scenario where events went how they want it. An escape for the harsh reality they presently have. Like those you fondly read, Bilbo, when you're comfortably nested on your armchair. And at night, in the shelter of your warm covers and the silence of the dark, you long for a person you couldn't have and the future you couldn't possibly attain with him anymore. You played out different situations in your head, where everything went differently, had only you changed one action. Isn't that what you desire the most? To live in a world where you and the glorious King Under the Mountain—"
"Stop," Bilbo gritted, clenching and unclenching his fists. He wasn't as easily angry as this, but having his heart laid out to him and being ridiculed, he couldn't help himself. "Why are you doing this?
"I'm… I'm foolish, I know. But that is all I will ever have of him and nothing else. The memories I have of him alone are just," he exhaled, feeling angrier at the wetness of his eyes. "J-just that. And you have no need to throw that at my face for I'm well aware."
He truly regretted now ever taking the damned ring. He should have left it there with its previous owner, never to see the world outside again and affect the one who would be in possession of it.
For Bilbo knew himself to be of weak heart.
He moved to remove the ring but stopped when it spoke to him again.
"Poor hobbit of mine," the voice spoke with great deal of gentleness, should Bilbo strained his ears he would hear the amused locution. "If that is what you wish, you need only ask and I shall grant them."
Bilbo looked up sharply, hand stopping from slipping off the ring.
"Wouldn't you like that? A chance to live in a different world?" the voice persuaded.
The hobbit hesitated; wasn't it a bad idea to agree easily with an unknown voice with no face? One who tempts of the impossible with that ominous voice? He never heard of such ending in a good way.
"I'll give you three chances, for, Bilbo, you deserve as much. Not less."
It must have noticed his hesitation, upping the bars of its offer. Desperate, one might think. But between the two of them, Bilbo thought he fitted the title more.
He waited for the catch to be mentioned (there must be one, right?)—asking for his body and soul to be bargained in exchange was one of the things he had in mind—but no, the voice remained silent, patiently waiting for him to contemplate his answer.
"Who are you?" he asked instead.
Bilbo was sure that if the voice had a physical form, it would smile at him, taking his question as an affirmation.
"Annatar is what I am known—the Lord of Gifts. And this is the gift I give to you, Bilbo Baggins."
Shadow spilled throughout Bilbo's room, creeping towards him, enclosing him in the dark and nothingness. Bilbo's eyes widened. Alarmed, he instinctively covered his eyes with his crossed arms, all the while thinking he made the wrong decision after all.
And then everything faded to black.
When he came to his senses, he was seated in a font of a circular table. It was low enough just below his chest, made of polished teak. It looks sturdy and most likely of Dwarven quality.
Wait.
Bilbo sat up, wincing a little as he bumped the table in the process that the papers on top clattered slightly. A thud by the fallen pen he hadn't caught on time made Balin turn his way suddenly.
Balin. It was him, the very same Balin of the company. The same white beard he sported was as abundant as ever, and his thick brows that matched the shade of his beard, paired with those wise, knowing eyes. He smiled warmly to Bilbo, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You're awake, I see. I do not have the heart to wake you up. The others are to come around yet anyway. Would you like some tea?"
It took Bilbo a while to register the offer of tea, taking the situation for a moment. "Please. Thank you." He noted that he was currently in an office of some sort. It was spacious enough to accommodate the others who are yet to arrive. The walls are lined with shelves of books and on one corner settled a desk where a stack of paperwork was neatly arranged. In another corner was a smaller table where Balin was preparing two cups of tea and a serving of scones.
No doubt he was currently in Balin's office. And that could only mean one thing.
He approached the only window opened, and hitched a deep breath.
It was a view from the Lonely Mountain, overlooking the foot of it and the far beyond until the banks of the lake. There was a city in between the mountain and the Long Lake. The very city Bilbo remembered being in ruins before. It was Dale.
"A pleasant view, isn't it?" Balin commented beside Bilbo. "Although I'm sure not as spectacular as the one you have. I'm lucky enough to have one in my choosing as it is." He smiled.
Bilbo was suddenly curious to know he has chambers of his own. In the castle, no less.
"Not all of us are spoiled by the King." The old dwarf threw Bilbo a wink. He turned his sight towards the Dale. "It's nice to see the city restored. Though Bard should have seen them before his passing, he deserved the honor of being the leader of the new Dale." Balin's smile went sad. "If only we've been hastier in convincing our King to quicken the aid we could provide."
Bilbo pieced out the bits of information he could get. If the Dragonslayer had passed of old age, and with the Dale restored as well, several years must have gone by. Not to mention the Kingdom of Erebor seems to be in its glory once again.
I'm in the future. In this world, at least.
"Is… Is Thorin the King of Erebor?" Bilbo blurted all of a sudden, half scolding himself for the seemingly stupid question, and half dreading the answer.
Balin's mood seemed to have lifted at this. "A smooth change of topic, Master Baggins," the dwarf said lightly. "Though I prefer not in the way you'd look like a ditzy hobbit, as much as we know you are never one." He was amused, and Bilbo was glad to ease the atmosphere at least. "But to answer your question, yes. Thorin Oakenshield has been our king since we reclaimed Erebor," he said as if lecturing a little child studying a history lesson. "With Fili named as his successor, and Kili the next in line should Fili refuse the crown—not unless King Thorin decided to enter a union and have an heir directly from him."
Blibo was ecstatic. Not only is Thorin alive in this world but also his nephews. And Thorin being the king, with FIli and Kili having the right to the throne as well. The hobbit couldn't suppress the relieved smile he gave Balin.
The dwarf looked momentarily puzzled by his expression. "Did you somehow hit your head on the way here that you had forgotten about them?" Balin gasped a bit. "Do you still remember me, Master Burglar?"
The hobbit turned away sheepishly. It has been a while since he heard that title. "Perhaps," he replied noncommittally. "But yes, I remember you too well, Master Balin."
"But you don't seem to remember me telling you I prefer to be called Balin only," Balin shot back good-naturedly. "Your position is a level higher than mine after all."
Bilbo frowned at that. He would ask for Balin to elaborate but afraid he might push the "joke" a little too far. He would find it out later anyhow.
The dwarf gestured for the prepared tea, saying it had gotten slightly cold with their silly conversation. He walked around his office, contemplating on something with his hands on his back. He was silent as he paced, giving Bilbo time to finish the scones. Bilbo figured Balin to be Thorin's—King Thorin's—royal adviser. It was no surprise on Bilbo's part, as Balin appeared to be the most diplomatic and knowledgeable of the company. And the most sensible, if he might add.
"Sometimes I wonder that too," Balin began. Bilbo placed down the empty teacup and listened attentively. "If it's really our Thorin who is currently sitting there on the throne."
Bilbo frowned, opening his mouth to inquire. It was when Dwalin entered the room abruptly without as much as a knock.
"Balin, we need you at the throne room," Dwalin said with barely masked fury. When an equally shocked Balin refused to move, Dwalin spoke again. "You better reason with that mad king right this moment or I will make sure he will not get out of that throne of his alive."
Bilbo's blood ran cold. Surely, he hadn't heard that from Dwalin. Not from him, Thorin's most loyal among his loyal companions. His eyes met Dwalin's and there was an unspeakable spark of added anger there when he recognized who Balin was with. The bald dwarf harshly turned away, not acknowledging the hobbit entirely.
Balin, who had seen the exchange, sent Bilbo an apologetic look and silently begged for him to follow them.
What exactly is happening here?
Erebor, restored in its full glory, was brighter that he had seen last—pale gold of lights lit high in rows, not illuminating every parts, but nowhere near dim for a caved area. He remembered the air stank of the dragon's odor, ruined pillars and stone staircases. He remembered the glint of gold before that served as the primary source of light. He realized that this was the very same hall the company prized the most, the place they called home long before Smaug came upon them. The hall where he faced the dragon and all its might. Where he found the Arkenstone, and where he began to recognize the growing madness within Thorin.
It was like seeing everything for the first time.
Had Bilbo been clueless, he would say he was brought to a destined time of years later. Only that it was a different kind of reality where had been and witnessed beforehand. The reality that made him wish for the one he was currently in.
He matched the hurried steps of the brothers as they approached the throne. And high up the king's seat was Thorin. The difference was striking, but Bilbo found himself to be distracted by other than Thorin's appearance.
The king was seething in rage.
"Traitors, the both of you!" Thorin bellowed from high up, his voice sending shivers to those below him. "And right under my nose, no less," the king hissed.
Balin paled when he found out who were being accused. "Kili," Balin exhaled, unbelieving. "And our young Ori too."
From his position, Bilbo could make out a taller Kili and of longer beard than the one he knew before. Age already defined the Kili standing now before the king. Ori was still of small eyes and meek disposition, but his now longer hair and beard adorned with more braids and beads.
"Your Highness," Balin began, rushing to meet Thorin's line of vision, as if shielding the two from him. "We have just arrived and perhaps it would do well to us all to see to the matter clearly. As to what grounds do they deserve to be called as such?"
"If only you had gone here as fast as you can, you would not be ignorant as to why," Thorin replied coldly, his eyes barely spared Balin a glance when he bowed lower in apology. "It came to my awareness that letters unknown to me have been going from here to that accursed forest of Mirkwood, and then back again." He turned sharply to Kili. "You," he spat. "I've warned you before never to interact again with those dishonorable elves. In case you've forgotten what good that bastard of a race had done to us." Ori, poor Ori, had tried not to squeak in fright when he was addressed. "And you even encouraged this by being their runner. You dare lie to me even of traveling to Dale every now and then under the pretense of scholarly duties when it was obviously not even that." The king towered, advancing dangerously. "You dare lie to me! To your king! Have you no shame?"
"Uncle!" Kili snapped. "Leave Ori out of this. He is innocent—"
"Innocent! Ha! Do you hear yourself? And you don't address me again as such for I'm your King first."
Bilbo could notice Kili's jaw hardening. "Apologies, My King," Kili gritted out in growing anger. "And as I said, Ori is to be left out of this matter. What he had done was out of goodwill for me."
"And why would I leave him out?" Thorin asked incredulously. "When it is highly likely he was mediating in a suspicious correspondence. I say I punish him for treason."
Bilbo's eyes widened at the same time Balin gasped. Dwalin, if it was anymore possible, was more furious than when he had fetched his brother. He was shaking. Bilbo feared if Dwalin would indeed do what he said earlier.
"You Highness, let's not be hasty," Balin appealed as calmly as he could. "We don't know as of yet if the content of these letters are treacherous in nature."
If not for Balin's statement, somehow, Bilbo believed that in a few moments the guards would have picked up Ori already. Shock had stopped Bilbo from forming any kind of protest of his own, and in this situation, he doubted he could make it any better. He wondered if Thorin would even listen to him.
Now that their great distance apart wasn't only in physical proximity.
But, damn it. I should do something for them. It's Kili and Ori for Valar's sake!
Thorin scoffed. "Must we still waste our time finding the letters that were most likely disposed of already? They're not idiots. Especially that damned Elvenking. As if he would let his elfling spy keep incriminating evidences on the other end."
Oh, Thorin, Bilbo lamented inwardly. The king was labeling Tauriel of a spy of the Elvenking, who Thorin hated the most in the whole Middle-Earth after he had disposed of Azog—it was ridiculous.
"Tauriel is no spy of anybody," Kili stated, firm on his stand. "She is a lover of mine, and I hers. Chaste meetings and this exchanging of letters are all we have, My King." Under the steady voice was melancholy. Bilbo thought that Thorin could be the sole reason as well as to why the couple only had their limited encounters. He couldn't believe that Thorin would be this callous to his nephew.
Because he's not the Thorin I know. Thorin would never forsake Kili's happiness over some bad blood with the elves.
No, it's him, of course. The resemblance is uncanny. I'm simply adjusting to this side of him.
No, this couldn't be him! I…
"Love?" Thorin uttered the word like a curse. "You think it love? For all you know, she might have ensnared you with trickery to make you feel that way. Aren't they known for that? Did she seduce you?"
Kili's shoulders were shaking. "Tauriel is not that low."
"I beg to differ as every elf is low," Thorin pointed. "Tell me, had she persuaded you to give trinkets from my treasury as a gift? Did she demand before of jewels of pure white? Of pieces of gold and diam—"
"Enough!" Kili snarled, his voice echoing that made the hall deafening afterwards. "You can insult me, but not her! You don't even know her beyond her being an elf." Bilbo gulped when Kili stepped forward to the king. "And in the end, it's not about anything but your gold and riches! Those darned, shiny coins that made you worse and worse of a dwarf every passing day." He paused, shaking his head in disbelief and disappointment. "No, you are no king of mine. You're not a king of any but that shit pile of gold!"
Thorin's eyes darkened and looked as if he would kill his own nephew with his bare hands. Kili remained where he stood, determined to meet him head-on, both giving each other the most scalding of glares they could muster.
Surprisingly, Thorin leaned back. He calmly began, "Very well. It is now clear as to where your loyalty lies." He stood straighter, addressing everybody present.
"Kili, son of Vili, I sentence you to death for the crime of treason. And Ori, the scribe, is given the same sentence for being accessory to the crime," the king declared with finality.
They all held their breath.
Kili's burning anger went away instantly, replaced by resignation once his shoulders slacked in defeat.
Bilbo would have none of that.
"Thorin!" Bilbo called when the Thorin turned his back on them. He went beside Balin in front of the king. "This is…" madness. "This is unreasonable of you! You don't go punish them because of baseless accusations." The hobbit wasn't quite sure where he got his bravery. Just a few while ago, he was quite unsure of his position to speak his mind. But now there was a spark of something akin to confidence.
Maybe it was the thought of Ori, the youngest of the company then. The one who fought violence only with his trusty slingshot. He seemed the gentlest, contented to join the journey as the scribe, jotting down at his journal with the light of every campfire they lit throughout their travel.
Or perhaps it was the way Kili seemed suddenly tired of fighting his uncle who turned blind to everything that wasn't glittering. The charming lad Bilbo knew was exhausted of hiding his relationship with the elf simply because Thorin forbid it. Kili may have lived in this version of reality, but if this would be his future, death not by orcs, instead by ruthlessness of kin…
Bilbo wouldn't allow it. He was expecting the worse, being thrown in the dungeons for speaking up against the king's decision, but it might as well be it rather than not doing anything at all.
"What happened to you, King Under the Mountain? That you're unwilling to give them even a fair trial?" Bilbo pleaded in a softer voice, "You're not like this."
Something shifted in Thorin's eyes when he registered Bilbo's words. The king's gaze was heavy upon him, judging, perhaps, Bilbo's foolishness for opening his mouth. Bilbo held out, his chin tilting a little higher to show defiance. He was regarded for a long moment that the others showed hope for the right resolution.
"Very well," Thorin rasped, finally. "Balin, have the council immediately investigate the matter," he ordered. Balin immediately complied. Thorin hesitated. "In the meantime, they are to be kept in the cells." He added, as if an afterthought, "Not withholding food and other basic needs."
Balin hid his relieved sigh through the bow he gave. Dwalin seemed to have been lifted off of burden as Bilbo caught the look the former gave to Ori, who in turn nodded in assurance.
Bilbo let out a small breath he didn't know he was holding. Though he would still wish to try for the two dwarves' release from imprisonment. It still didn't seem fair. And it felt like he could have done more than that.
Though he reprimand himself for not doing enough, Kili and Ori both gave him grateful smiles, although short and small, before they were taken away. Nonetheless, it was nice to see a little bit of happiness and hope in them.
For Bilbo, they were enough.
Bilbo wasn't sure where to go then as he was still clueless where his quarters might be located. He decided to return to Balin's office for the meantime. He hoped it wasn't intrusive of him.
It wasn't long when Balin came in; in tow were the rest of the company sans Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Ori. Nine dwarves spilled in the room, barely noticing Bilbo's presence as they settled in any seat they could find in the room. Typical.
It was Balin who took notice of him first. "Lad," he said gently, meeting Bilbo in a hug. "You have my thanks for standing up earlier." His hands grasped the hobbit's shoulders. "It's a good thing you decided not to be silent this time. We," he said, gesturing at the rest. "Appreciated what you did."
"Of course," Bilbo said. "I… well, anybody would have done the same, right?"
It must have been the wrong thing to say as Bilbo noted their shameful looks.
"Unfortunately, we don't have that kind of bravery you have," Bofur spoke. "We don't have that kind of hold on Thorin. Not anymore."
"Aye, since he became king," Glóin said. "Perhaps as ealier since we went inside Erebor."
Dwalin stood from the wall, face grim. "We thank you for minimizing their punishment." His back went straight, ire still visible. "But it doesn't change the fact that you simply delayed their impending doom. And it was worse that you gave them false hope for themselves only to have it crushed in the worst way possible."
The truth slapped Bilbo. Of course, it wasn't that he had remedied the problem already. It wasn't even enough. He bit his cheek, remaining silent for he had nothing to say to that.
"Dwalin!" Dori chided. "In our king's state it was even a miracle he changed his mind," he reminded. "Couldn't we at least not blame Bilbo? He doesn't have a part in Thorin's madness."
"Directly, none. But for keeping his mouth shut almost all the time Thorin uttered nonsense, he might as well be blamed for letting Thorin do what he wishes." He glared at the hobbit who was shrinking under it. "You're the closest to him than we could ever get. You know he will listen to you. But what then? Your lack of protests was taken by him as agreement. I began to wonder what made today different!"
"Hush, Dwalin," Bifur said. "You're making your anger talk for yourself." He and Balin briefly glanced to the hobbit apologetically.
Nori stepped in. "We all are angry for my brother and Kili's demise. And Mahal knew how much more Dori and I hated Thorin for it. But giving the weight of the blame to somebody who is equally as hurt as us is not the way we could solve this."
It might be the siding to Bilbo of most of the dwarves present that made Dwalin enraged once again. He felt betrayed. "Aye, of course," he started, sarcastic. "He didn't even have his say when Thorin sent Fili away to Khazad-dûm."
Bilbo's eyes widened in realization. He had been wondering for a while now where Fili could have been—where Kili was, Fili would be near. Bilbo expected Fili to fight for his younger brother adamantly should he had been there.
But, no, not that day. Thorin sent him away in that place he remembered he had been told of being infested with orcs.
"Brother, please," Balin said exasperatedly.
"No," Bilbo muttered. "He's right," he said simply. "I have been quiet. I-I failed you. I should have been…" not useless. He breathed deeply, disappointed with himself. He had been silent then. Maybe too much to their liking that they could have also thought of him changed as well. "I could have done something." He briefly closed his eyes in shame. "I'm sorry."
Bilbo's words hung heavy. Dwalin refused to acknowledge the apology but remained silent and unmoving as a stone.
"What now?" Bofur asked at once.
Glóin walked near Balin's desk. "We are called here to discuss. In regards our king."
Balin took it as his cue. "I have been looking for some loopholes in our law these months."
"Loopholes for what?"
"Concerning the ruling of King Thorin."
"And is there any?" Dori asked.
"Aye. Although it will be difficult." Balin sighed. "The reigning king will be forced to pass on the throne to his heir should he declare himself incapable of ruling, physically or mentally. And I tell you it is very rare especially for a king a little passed only in his prime."
"We have to make Thorin admit he's mentally ill to continue his kingship," Óin stated, a bit loudly than he intended. "It's like—"
"—telling Smaug to go away and expect him to comply," Bombur seconded, his round cheeks huffing.
"There goes our plan then," Glóin grumbled glumly.
"What if he could be persuaded?" Bilbo asked, earning their attention.
"If he could be persuaded, aye. Remember that Lady Dís had done the same, and was subtly sent back to Ered Luin, as banishment."
Risky, if Thorin wouldn't even hear his own sister. "I will try still," Bilbo announced firmly. "I might not succeed, but I know at least that I placed an effort in trying."
The dwarves digested the situation. It was indeed remarked that it would be like asking for a dragon to sod off and never return. But here was a hobbit who faced a dragon himself and escaped its breath of flames. Surely, he could be successful in this feat?
"We do not wish to rely this heavily upon you," Balin told him. "Nor you have any obligation to. If you succeed, however, you'd be doing us and the next generation a great favor. Should you find yourself in trouble, we'll make sure to have your back, lad."
"I know you all do," Bilbo replied, smiling at them.
It was returned with gratefulness and concerned faces at the same time. Bilbo wished to lessen their worries until Dwalin suddenly spoken up, again with his grimness although with hardly any anger now.
"There is still a way for us to remove him as our king as he was done to be one in our hearts," he told them ruefully. "We eliminate him."
Balin gaped at his brother. "Dwalin, you don't mean—"
"Aye," the younger brother interrupted. "I do mean what I said.
"We assassinate the king."
Bilbo found himself wandering the hallways after the so-called meeting. It was a bit awkward, not quite sure which corner to turn inside the place where he was supposedly living for some time now. Add to that the random dwarves he encountered on his path who all sent him nods of acknowledgement, some even offering him curt greetings and address of "Master Baggins". He promptly returned them with a bit of ease, must be because of hobbit's nature to be friendly. In a way, it seemed familiar—like he had been doing it often, if not every day.
It would be better though if he actually knew where his room might be. He should have asked at least one of the dwarves who passed him by.
If he really did, would he be met with a blank stare? Or would he be considered mad himself?
Bilbo sniffed. Probably not a good idea.
Although he was still considering the thought to approach one for truly he was in need of the privacy of his own chamber, and the call to brood in isolation was overwhelming.
"We assassinate the king."
He tried not to think back of that statement so lightly said. So lightly they were uttered that there was no amount of hesitation behind, simply the tone of an understatement as if it was the most natural thing to say. And the lack of protest that fallen afterwards gave him no comfort.
Like they were considering the suggestion at all.
Truly Bilbo hoped he hadn't heard that from a dwarf, a part of the company Thorin Oakenshield had no less. Thorin's other family aside that of his blood.
Will this how the future will unfold then had Thorin lived and stayed out of his self? Bilbo mused sadly. I do not like it.
A set of heavy footsteps came not a moment later, nearing Bilbo's position as the sound became louder against the marbled floor.
The lone dwarf came to a stop when he noticed the hobbit. His serious face came to a halt and a grin broke out of the dwarf's young face (Bilbo wasn't really sure what was the difference with the old and the young of the race—shorter and lesser beard perhaps for the young). "Master Burglar!"
"Hello. A pleasant day." Bilbo prayed his smile didn't look forced. In his mind, he was trying to figure out the stranger but familiar-looking (if that was possible) lad of auburn hair with more dominant red.
Red. Red hair like that of Glóin's.
Oh. I recognize him in Glóin's locket and the resemblance is uncanny, despite the lack of beard in the drawing. He must say it was his first time meeting Glóin's son in person. The dwarf's wee lad, as he fondly called him whenever he talked of his son around campfires.
"Gimli, son of Glóin, at your service," the lad, Gimli, said with pride, and he bowed shortly.
"Bilbo Baggins at yours and your family's." Bilbo gestured at the end of the hall behind him, where he came from. "Are you looking for your father then?"
Gimli nodded. "He is needed at the excavation site. A few had been in an accident after one of the scaffolds' beams broke down. Thank Mahal nobody was injured gravely." He paused, looking at Bilbo suddenly. "Apologies, Master Baggins. It wasn't my intention to bring ill news during your rest."
Bilbo was concerned, but shared Gimli's relief nonetheless. "Thank goodness indeed." His relief turned to amusement. "And on the contrary, I'm not resting. I don't think I would be up for that either, when I clearly need one, yes?" He smiled ruefully. "After all that I heard," he whispered. Gimli made no reaction if he even caught it. "As for your father, he should be at Balin's office still. With the others."
"Aye. I thank you, Master Baggins."
"It's Bilbo, if you may," Bilbo said. "Your father is as much of a friend to me."
"Alright then, Master Bilbo." The hobbit raised a finger as if to correct him, but Gimli had beaten him to it with a chuckle. "I know, I know. It will take me a while though. Farewell, Master Bilbo. May you find the ease of your mind in these halls."
"Thank you," Bilbo replied sincerely. It was refreshing to encounter a new face. An earnest lad, this Gimli. Bilbo wished to see more of him around as somebody he could converse with. "And, oh, actually…" the hobbit shifted on his feet, somewhat sheepish. "Do you happen to know where, ah, my quarters might be?"
Gimli looked at him, and then let out a grunt. "Aren't you lounging right outside it?"
"Oh."
His chamber was grander than the whole Bag End.
The furniture was of polished teak, coated with enamel that gave off a glistening surface. The ceiling was high, three hobbits tall if his estimation was right. He had books of his own, not as many as Balin's collection, but plenty than those he had at Bag End. He must have had a lot of reading on the plush armchair he saw not far from the shelves; and a lot of writing and sketching on the inclined table. The floor was occupied by a large rug of wool where he found his feet liking the texture when rubbed on. Against the wall was the bed in velvet sheets. Once he laid himself down, he could hardly get up, wishing he could stay there forever.
He wasn't told wrong when he found the splendid view his room has. As he was situated in a different part of the castle, the scenery had a more impressive sight of the running Long Lake, its waters twinkling. The other side of it laid the forest with trees thick in variety of red and green.
Bilbo was fond of the works of nature, and so the garden he tended at Bag End. Right outside the window was his long since wish of waking up to. He was sure it would be more beautiful during the mornings; added to that was the whiff of fresh air he would definitely get.
And looking at the setup, he was indeed spoiled as Balin implied.
Bilbo sat at the edge of his bed, taking it all in. It was an odd sort of thing to be prioritized over those who were considered kin. Flattering, yes, but he felt unjust to them. Especially when each of Thorin's company had contributed in their own way in reclaiming Erebor.
His fingers unconsciously twisted the ring he was wearing. The very same he had brought back. He had been unaware that he had them on since being transported in this world. He guessed it has been serving as his link to the place.
At the back of his mind, he began to wonder what would happen if he removed it. Would he get back to where he originally from, his bedroom at Bag End? Would he hear that voice again? Would it even have an effect? And if not, would it mean living this life until the end of his days?
He studied it. The ring appeared as simple as it was in appearance—as if it possessed no tricks of its own. For an item with magic, it was rather… bland.
Bilbo closed his fist before letting his curiosity won. As much as this world was worse than he had wished for, there was the chance of improving the circumstances. In his optimism he believed he could do a change of tide and be it the right place he had imagined.
It would never be perfect, no, but as long as those he loved remained, it was enough.
He shifted on the bed, finding a comfortable spot to curl among the pillows. It was when he found a leather-bound book with a strap tied on its rightmost edge that kept it closed; not really conventional to him if its purpose was to be a lock of some sort. The thick bunch of papyrus the book contained was worn, with its corners dusted with tinge of yellow. His hobbit nose was met with the smell of old tomes—not one mixed with dust, mind you—but the wonderful scent of aging paper.
When he scanned, he noted the writing was not consistent—some small, some larger or much smaller than the previous letters—as there was also random ink blotches at some empty space and unrecognizable stains. A few words were crudely crossed out with thicker strokes, signifying the mistakes done during the writing.
Bilbo recognized the penmanship as his own. It was his diary.
Intrigued to know how different the series of events turned out for him before, he read from the very start.
19th of Afteryule
We won, but not without casualties and death. Thankfully, the fourteen of us are in one piece. Fili has few broken bones in the leg but they say he will walk. Kili's arrow wound is aggravated and in need of stitching, but he'll live. Thorin is yet to wake with his chest wound. I kind of worry. He's breathing, but very shallow when I visited earlier.
As much as our victory is a cause of merriment, there is no celebration tonight, and maybe the next. It's fine, as long as the he wakes up, I can ask of no other.
I don't like to sleep tonight, not that I can anyway. I can rest while watching Thorin's bedside. I do not like to wake up to news of him giving out in my sleep.
May those who are fallen in battle rest in peace.
-Bilbo
23rd of Afteryule
He wakes! Thank goodness he finally did. I'm glad that my waiting had been not for naught. I feared the worst, but it seems that fate is not cruel as they say.
My heart is now at ease before I go back to Bag End.
-Bilbo
24th of Afteryule
Thorin asks for me to stay when I told him of my plan to leave at the first light of Solmath. I can't leave him, he says, because I'm the only one he trusts among his friends. It's hard to believe, and I think still of it even now. He fears that he will someday be betrayed by one of them, or maybe by all. He knows I will not do the same.
I don't really know where he gets the notion of his other friends being unfaithful to him.
-Bilbo
15th of Solmath
I have decided to stay after all. As for the Bag End, I was assured I could return to Hobbiton at the month of Midyear's Day. I can arrange the ownership of Bag End and the caretaker of the garden once I go back.
It was Thorin's coronation day. There was an assortment of dwarves present. The Iron Foot who helped us at the battle remained and some more arrived. Despite the momentary alliance with the elves, Thorin refused to acknowledge them, so none was present.
I've seen Fili and Kili at the feast too. They seemed to have been up and about for a while now, but somehow kept at the infirmary longer than Thorin was. Óin says something about a written order from their mother as she is yet to come.
I was baffled to hear from Fili that never did Thorin visit them while the brothers were recuperating. They are both saddened, and have the reason to. Thorin is more of their father than an uncle. But they understand, they say, that Thorin will never again have the time for them as he used to. Kili said it is a small price to pay as they have their home back, and a heavy responsibility of ruling the kingdom now lies on their uncle's shoulders.
Ah, they grow up easily.
-Bilbo
28th of Solmath
Erebor is rebuilding, and Thorin is overlooking the process. He asked for the throne room to be taken care of first and foremost. It was done the day before and so they began for the living quarters today. Dwarves indeed work fast.
I visited Thorin in the late afternoon. Since he was bidden to be released from the healing house and was told to take it easy for a few months, he's hardly in one place. But often, he's found near his gold. I always find him counting them. Or when he is not, he sits on his throne, cradling the shining Arkenstone.
He seems to revere it the most amongst all.
-Bilbo
2nd of Rethe
I met the Lady Dís. I must say she and Thorin are very much alike in appearance. Surprisingly, I do not find her unattractive despite the beard she has. I noticed that most of Kili's features are from her, including the dark hair.
We had a chat over tea, and it's nice to know somebody around doesn't drink ale all the time. An excellent conversationalist she is. And she is every bit royalty. Her brothers must have scared off plenty of her suitors in her early days.
Oh, and she laughs at my jokes. Despite not like the crude one the dwarves like to make.
Before she went, she told me she would like to chat to me again as we just did. She noted I must have been lonely being the odd one in a mountain of dwarves.
She also said of something like me surpassing her expectation. Whatever that means.
-Bilbo
30th of Rethe
Lady Dís and I had our usual meeting. It's a wonder we never ran out of anything to say. Although today, she was more serious and grave. She talked of her concern for Thorin. I thought she meant the injury he sustained, but no. It is the illness of his mind she speaks of.
She said it grows worse. I was silent then for I do not know what to say. I've seen the same sickness, but before the battle. Or maybe I witness it still afterwards, especially when I see Thorin obsessing over the Arkenstone; but simply do not want to recognize it as such.
She continued telling me of Thorin wanting to break his promise of donating aid in rebuilding Dale for the people who survived the Laketown. Thorin told her that as if all the men took up arms to fend for their own when they merely scampered in fright at the sight of the enemy. It was only the Dragonslayer and some men with spine who had fought to protect those of their coward kind. And that in the end, those very same cowards are the one to take most of the comfort of aid Erebor gives.
I didn't know Thorin sees it that way.
-Bilbo
13th of Astron
Thorin decided to display the Arkenstone in a far grander case of mithril and white gold. I do not get the purpose myself, but he explained it deserves to be placed in such than overhead of the seat of the throne. I wonder if that stone is a cause of madness, because the king announced next that the help in the reconstruction of Dale is to come only thrice a month beginning the next one.
Bard the Dragonslayer, who was present then, was angry, but more disappointed. He said it wasn't what they had agreed to. I can't blame the Lord of Dale. Thorin merely said that take it as it is or none at all.
Perhaps it was wrong of me to give to Thorin the Arkenstone when I found it. Maybe I should have hidden it for a while? At least until when he's of sound mind?
Because if anything, the damned stone made him worse.
-Bilbo
23rd of Astron
Lady Dís left to return to Ered Luin. I was hurt that she didn't even tell me yesterday. But, oh well, duty must have called.
It was a different story from some dwarves though. I never pegged them as gossip-mongers but I heard from a few she is sent back for 'questioning' the king's orders. Somehow, they began not to sound like hearsay anymore.
Fili and Kili were clueless as to what happened but disappointed at her sudden departure nonetheless.
I hope Thorin is not the cause of this.
-Bilbo
9th of Thrimidge
It must have been my imagination, but I've noticed Kili not being around that much. That or I'm simply too used to see him with his brother near.
I wonder what happened with Kili and the red-haired elf he befriended at the journey.
Fili is often with Balin. He is taught of everything in regards of his position as a prince. He has a knack for it anyway.
Balin expressed to me his dismay with another of Thorin's order. It is the king's plan to place all the gold in the deep level of the palace and to have it entered by no one but him. It isn't what stressed his royal advisor. It's the thought of Thorin sounding like his grandfather, if not more terrible.
It doesn't seem good.
-Bilbo
30th of Thrimidge
This will be my last writing for a while. Tomorrow, I will begin my way back to Bag End to arrange some matters. Oh, what a journey again!
I am excited to be able to go back, although not permanently, but at least for a while to witness The Overlithe.
At the same time, I worry for the king, and to those I will leave. My hope is for Thorin to not reduce himself to worse while I'm gone, for I might not recognize him anymore.
That he might no longer be the friend I know—and not the dwarf I hold dearly to my heart anymore.
-Bilbo
Bilbo woke up to the evening chill and a knock on the door. He figured he must have fallen asleep in the middle of his reading. The diary he found was laid open beside him.
He shuddered when another blow of the night breeze came in through the open window. He hastily closed it before answering knock that went insistent.
He found Gimli at the other side of the door. "Good evening, Gimli," he said, offering an apologetic smile. "I've slept the whole afternoon, it seems." He inwardly lamented at the missed afternoon tea and dinner.
"Pleasant evening as well, Master Bilbo," Gimli returned. "You have missed dinner, but it is yet supper. But if you'd like to have light dinner, I can ask someone in the kitchen."
"Why, thank you, Gimli." Bilbo was glad at the dwarf's consideration. He smiled gratefully.
"But I'm not here to inform of your missed meal." Gimli stood formally. "King Thorin wishes to speak with you in private."
"I see," Bilbo said after a beat. "Give me a minute."
Bilbo was not exactly surprised. Thinking back, it must be related to that afternoon. He went for the coat he noticed hanging when he first entered the room. It was light, but warm, and of perse color. Perfect.
He feared that he might be subjected to wandering once again. Thankfully, he was escorted to the king's chamber by Gimli himself. And was left outside alone.
When he became curious as to why he wasn't received at the throne room, he heard the command to enter.
Bilbo promptly followed and went inside. Not another step, he gaped at how the king's private chamber looked like. It was very identical to his own—the positioning of the furniture and all. The mere difference was the sizes proportionate for a dwarf, and the richer color of the drapes and the blanket.
There was a deep chuckle. "You look as if you have never been here," Thorin pointed out. He held out two golden goblets of ale, and gave one to him while gesturing for Bilbo to sit.
Bilbo was about to sit down on the soft-looking cushion when he immediately stood up straight, frowning to himself and looking down at his feet against the pleasant brown rug. "I... thank you, Your Highness." He found the title weird in his own tongue. "I am told that you wish to talk to me."
When he was met with silence, he risked looking up. He saw Thorin fixing his jaw. "I told you not to call me that when we're alone," Thorin whispered. "You're upset."
Bilbo tilted his head. "I'm what?"
"At me. You're upset at me," Thorin breathed. He began pacing nervously. "Earlier, in my hasty judgment of Kili and Ori." He stopped moving, and instead faced a shock Bilbo. "I am sorry."
It must have been for a while when Bilbo realized his jaw slacking. "What for?"
"For upsetting you. For disappointing. For not being good enough. For everything. I don't know!" Thorin exclaimed and buried his face in his huge palms.
The king apologizing to him was the last thing in the hobbit's mind. He didn't expect this—him sitting inside Thorin's room, ale in hand, and the king himself being apologetic for his action. Was he anticipated to lash out then?
It took him long to find his voice. "It's not me who deserves you apology," he said gently, putting away his drink to sit beside Thorin on the bed. "It's Kili and Ori, don't you think?"
It was difficult to speak; especially you have no idea what you were really supposed to say. But Bilbo was pleased, for Thorin showed sign of knowing he was being blind, and he recognized his own mistakes.
"You're right," Thorin said, nodding. "I have been wrong—wrong since these past decades. No wonder those I hold close to my heart distanced themselves." He looked away, ashamed. "It was wrong to not fulfill my promise to the Dragonslayer, and instead cut them off and made it harder for their lives to recover. Alas, Bard is not with us anymore to make amends." He closed his eyes and inhaled. "It was wrong of me to turn away Dís, my beloved sister. She hates the king that I had become, and would rather have me as I was before—no titles under my name and no kingdom to rule over, but having a humble home with the fellow I consider my family, contented to the simple life. She was right when she feared for her sons' safety under my wing."
Bilbo let him continue. "I sent Fili away. He is earnest and full of passion and spirit in proving himself. And, Mahal forgive me, I used that knowledge. I let him go to Khazad-dûm where even an army of dwarves failed to reclaim. It is an evil place where I myself do not want to go. But Fili went, with my consent, with a handful of trusted dwarves. Do you know why?" He croaked. "Just so I could eliminate my heir, so I will not be forced to retire when age deem me incapable. They must have realized—Balin, especially—my plan is and how sickening it is. They turned away for they do not recognize their Thorin in me anymore. With Fili out of the scene, they must have expected of me to turn to Kili next. And they're not wrong."
Bilbo's chest was filled of dread as he registered Thorin's words. He wasn't finished.
"Aye, I wish for him gone too. And will you even believe that I found my way how just when I asked for it. I secretly entered Kili's room and found letters from an elf, Tauriel. If my memory serves me correct, she would be that one who Kili is indebted of his life. I never got the chance to thank her for returning him to us, despite Kili not being one of her kind. I know… I know the letters are harmless and filled only of their love for each other. And once investigated, my ground will be gone—and so I've decided to burn them. As for Ori, I've decided to throw him in while my real target is Kili, just so I can avoid the suspicion of killing of those who are next in my line. I do not want to have an heir, and I'm quite determined to live my days being king, not some retired and old dwarf in the end. The very same reason I refuse to marry and have children. My mistakes are more than those, but they are the gravest, although the others are not as forgivable."
Thorin looked at Bilbo, blue eyes meeting those dismayed ones. "And that is my folly— I prided myself having potential for more than I can hold as long as I bear the stone to show my right as a king. I believed in my own greatness and revered the power of gold and the Arkenstone. When there are others I should have put first above all." He deftly cradled Bilbo's small hands, afraid he might hurt the hobbit. "And to you, I say sorry again, for not letting you leave my side and tormenting you by bearing witness to my growing sickness. I know I have always been wrong in your eyes, and now, perhaps the most terrible you met in your whole life."
Bilbo bit his lip, gazing away and moving from Thorin's nearness. The king was not surprised. "And I say to you, should you wish to go back to your home—your real home, I wish you the safest of travel. You will leave your friends, aye, but they will understand your wish to go far from here, where there are mostly hurt even when after victory. Do not look back, and forget the name of Thorin Oakenshield, who caused you great pain in return of your kindness and loyalty. He who is not your king, but a jester who poses as one."
And Bilbo recognized him clearly now, past his slightly aged visage due to the pressure of time and kingship. It was him who he had adored for his leadership and valiant heart, who rarely smiled, but whenever he did, it never failed to brighten Bilbo's mood considerably. He who loved his nephews dearly, and spoke highly of their mother. He who set out to reclaim his mountain, but more for his companions than himself.
"You oaf," Bilbo muttered as he rushed and gathered Thorin in a hug. It was supposed to be bone-crushing as how dwarves liked it, but given his short arms and being non-muscular, it became like a hug of that of a child. Bilbo didn't mean it any lesser. "You can be very dramatic when you like to."
Thorin held him close and smiled against his shoulders. "That, I am. But I mean what I said. Every bit of it."
"I know," Bilbo simply said. "And I mean what I said as well. I'm not without faults myself, but if I would like to be here still. Leaving you will not do when you suddenly learn how to be yourself again. Before, I journeyed with you to regain your home, and now," he paused. "I want to be with you in surpassing this darkness of your mind. If you'll let me."
Bilbo was delighted to have Thorin back.
At the corners of his eyes, he noticed the short glint the ring gave off. Thorin didn't seem aware of it. Bilbo almost forgot about the ring and how it led him right at that moment.
Thank you, he thought sincerely, feeling satisfied.
"I happen to find this conversation rather tearful," Thorin commented lightly, turning his face away from Bilbo for some reason. The hobbit could hear some sniffs.
"Still prideful as ever," Bilbo said drily. "You deserve a handkerchief for that, King Thorin." He was given a glare by Thorin in which Bilbo answered with a grin.
He found one inside the pocket of his coat. The fabric wasn't folded neatly as he would like, but somewhat stuffed only there in haste. Bilbo rolled his eyes at the untidiness. He pulled it, and something tumbled out.
A small vial rolled on the floor. At the height of impact, it would surely break if not for the rug that caught it. Bilbo went to pick it up, but was beaten to it by Thorin.
The king held it up. The liquid inside was sickly green in color with a tint of purple. Whatever it was, Bilbo was sure it wasn't a medicine of some sort—or if it was even safe. Thorin paled in recognition.
"Where did you get this?" he asked weakly.
"I don't… I don't even know what that is," Bilbo said honestly. He didn't recall touching his coat upon donning it.
"Why do you have this?" Thorin tried again, keeping his voice leveled. "Please, tell me."
"I don't know. I told you I don't even know what that is," Bilbo pressed.
"Liar!" The king cried, and Bilbo jumped at the loud sound. "Why?" Thorin asked, but mostly to himself than the other. The small bottle was clutched tightly in his palm; any second more it would break under the force that made his knuckles turn white.
"I don't know what you say!" Bilbo exclaimed, shocked for the situation to turn bad from good.
"And I should believe you?" Thorin snarled, standing in his full height. "You who wish to kill me in my own chamber!"
Bilbo was taken aback, as if doused by a cold bucket of water. "What?"
"This. This poison you have," Thorin started. "Did you plan to use this tonight? After everything I said… is this your plan all along? Exploit me when I am at my most vulnerable?" He looked mournfully at Bilbo. "I can't believe it."
"No, you don't understand. I don't know what you speak of." Bilbo bit back his frustration.
"Then is there other reason why you have atropine in your person?"
"We assassinate the king." Bilbo suddenly remembered the words too well, and he was filled of dread again.
Thorin was received no answer. "I thought as much."
"I didn't know I have one," Bilbo insisted, although he knew it was weak of a protest. Thorin would hear none of it.
"Of course, you'll say that." Thorin turned his back. "I thought I was right about you. I trusted you, Bilbo. But it looks like I shouldn't. Go away from here while I still can. I might not be as forgiving any later." He was calm, but there was an underlying threat.
Bilbo would have none of that. "No, I won't! Not until you hear me out." He dared to approach closer, but regretted it in an instant when he was met with the furious face of the king.
"What more is there to hear?" he hissed, advancing closer dangerously. "The other ways you could kill me? Of the blame that is not yours but of somebody else?" Bilbo realized the Thorin he was talking to earlier was no longer present, already replaced with the mad king. "That I deserve death for everything that I have done?"
Bilbo shook his head vehemently. "No, damn it! I've seen that you still have that chance to redeem yourself, and I will help you."
Thorin closed his eyes in disbelief. "Another lie, isn't it? Oh, you have no idea how much I wanted to hold on to that."
There was a loud crash that followed as Bilbo was pushed against the vanity. There was a ringing on his ears from the impact that made him see stars momentarily. He was yet to recover from the assault when his feet touched the air as he was then unceremoniously dumped on the bed, wind knocked out of him. Firm, broad hands clasped themselves on a tight grip around his neck. It was Thorin, choking the life out of him. His face was dark and positively murderous. Bilbo struggled, squirming and twisting his body to release himself. Unfortunately, Thorin was of bigger stature and much stronger compared to him.
"No," Bilbo gasped against the vice like grip. "Thorin…" The king didn't even flinch at Bilbo's thumping of fists against his shoulders and arms, or when he kicked underneath against those thick robes.
His vision was rapidly turning dim at the sides when he glanced at the ring. In his clouded mind, he remembered deducing its purpose as his link to this place. And if he was right, removing it might save his life.
He hoped. Should it be otherwise, he would perish then—in the hands of Thorin Oakenshield himself.
Bilbo had sensed his impending death.
With his last draw of strength, he pulled the golden band off, and it was in that situation where he found it the most difficult to.
The last thing he saw was the king crying and apologizing over and over.
Bilbo gasped awake on his bed. His bed at Bag End.
On his nerveless hand was the ring.
He figured out that he was correct after all.
He regulated his breath, taking a lungful and exhaling. Checking on the mirror for marks around his neck, he found none despite the lingering sensation. It had felt real. And it probably was, in a way.
It was scary to think that Thorin was capable of such.
Even though he had spent a day on that place, he had missed only a few hours of the night. A dawn was breaking over the hills in weak light.
Bilbo felt tired at the lack of sleep, and even more due to the incident. He placed the ring away from him as much as possible before returning to his covers. He might not touch the object again for a while. Or if he could, never again.
It's for the best.
He decided to get the rest he needed, and not to think of what had transpired. Although he knew it would be forever in his mind.
Should anyone strain their ears, they could hear the muffled sobs in Bag End.
TBC
Notes on Bilbo's diary:
Afteryule = January
Solmath = February
Rethe = March
Astron = April
Thrimidge = May
Midyear's Day (aka. Overlithe) - is in Forelithe in Shire Calendar (June)
Bilbo's first entry was after the Battle of the Five Armies
And, you might point out that Ori is not the youngest of the company. In movies, he isn't. In the books, he is.
Annatar, Lord of Gifts is another name of Sauron. His name when he commissioned the making of the rings.
Thank you for reading! :)