Chapter One

His heart broke even as it ceased beating, his vision fading to black with Bilbo's tearful face looking down at him, begging him to stay. He didn't know if he would even if he could. He had made so many mistakes. He didn't deserve to live as King Under the Mountain, and he definitely didn't deserve the love of the hobbit crying above him.

No, he would die. Fili would become king and Durin's line would endure. The world did not need him, he decided as he felt his spirit leave his body and enter the void.

You are wrong, a deep voice reverberated around him. The voice was ancient and vast like a mountain. This world has great need of you.

"I do not understand," he tried to say, only to find he had no voice. His confusion must have come across, though, as a different voice answered.

You must be brave and strong, husband-child, a voice like sunshine and gentle winds. You have seen only the beginning of the darkness. Now, you have the chance to begin again.

'What does that mean?' he thought to himself.

It means we intend to send you back, back to the day Middle Earth was put on its current path. Mayhaps you can divert its course, the first voice answered.

'This darkness you speak of? Will it win if things are not changed?' he asked, unsure of what answer he would prefer. If all were lost without him, he was unsure if he were the best person for this task. He had brought only ruin where he went. However, if victory would happen with things as they were, he did not want to risk causing defeat instead.

If we did not believe you could do this, we would not have chosen you, the voice boomed at him. But no, this darkness as things now stand.

But our children will lose much, the other voice lamented. Your people will diminish, with most of your kin slained. And I am afraid my children will lose something far more precious than their lives. They shall lose their innocence.

You have the chance to stop the sufferings of many people, the first stated. We believe you can do this.

'And if I fail?' he asked, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the task in front of him.

Take heart, husband-child, the other voice soothed. We do not send you alone. You are but half of a whole.

It is time for you to go. Fare thee well, child of mine. You have the blessings of both of us.

Thorin awoke with a great gasp and sat straight up, confused as to where he was. Tree surrounded him. Odd, as there was nowhere near Erebor with this many trees this close together. Not thick enough to be a forest, and definitely not foul enough to be the woods of Mirkwood anyway.

He stood slowly, walking around the small camp he had awoken up in and could plainly see that he was the only one who had been there.

The voices. Had they been real?

It was the only explanation that made sense to him. Why else would he awaken alone and uninjured in this copse of trees? They had said they were sending him back. But where did they send him to?

Seeing as how no answer would come to him where he was, he quickly packed up the few belongings littering the area into the pack he found near the tree where he had been sleeping. He headed for the direction he had woken up facing, knowing that is where the road would be. It was clear that he himself had set up this camp, regardless of his not remembering doing so. That meant that he would have fallen asleep facing the direction unwanted visitors were likely to come from.

He was proven correct after walking some fifty paces and finding a well-traveled road. He frowned as he surveyed the area. It was vaguely familiar too him, but he couldn't figure out why. There were no distinguishing landmarks that he could see. It was a bit of road that could be anywhere in Middle Earth.

Which meant he had no idea which way he was supposed to be traveling.

As he stood there puzzling, a soft clop-clop of hooves hitting packed dirt reached his ears, followed closely by the creaking of wagon wheels. He dunked behind a tree, uncertain if whatever land he was in was friendly to dwarrows or not.

As a pony-drawn wagon rounded the bend in the road and the driver came into view, the familiarity of the land became as clear. Knowing there was little to fear in the Shire other than perhaps idle gossip, Thorin stepped into view without fear and inclined his head to the hobbit, who drew up short at the sight of him in his path.

"Good morning, Master Hobbit," he greeted politely. "Pardon me, but could you point me in the direction of Hobbiton?"

"B-back that way," the hobbit responded, stammering slightly. Thorin frowned. He had not meant to frighten him. "Good morning," the hobbit said hastily before spurring his pony on at a much faster pace than before.

He put the frightened hobbit out of his mind and made towards the village he had only visited once before. He didn't know why he was there, but considering there was only one person he knew in the Shire, he knew there was no question as to what his destination was.

Bag End.

His heart sped up at the thought of seeing Bilbo again. He could only assume that the hobbit had returned to his own home. Why else would he have been brought here? How long had it been since the battle? Did his hobbit think him dead?

That thought made him hasten his pace. He did not know how hobbit relationships worked. They had never had time during their stolen moments to discuss those types of things. But if hobbits loved anything like dwarrows did, then his hobbit was suffering.

Because finding their One for dwarrows was finding the other half of their souls. It was better to never find your other half than it was to lose them. Better to always feel as if something is missing than to have your very soul ripped in two. The fact that he could have caused his One that type of pain...

It did no good to dwell on it. To occupy his mind, he tried to recall what exactly the voices had said. It was like trying to remember a dream. He remembered dying. He'd never forget the sight of Bilbo crying for him as his spirit was released from his body. He didn't know where he had gone after that, just that the voices were there. They were sending him back, they said. He assumed to his body, but why was he here?

Back to the day Middle Earth was put on its path. What did that mean though? Did that mean... surely it could not...

Time travel?

He shook his head. That was ridiculous. Then again, this whole situation was so strange that it could be true. It would explain why he woke in his own, unremembered, campsite. It would explain why he was uninjured. It would also explain why he was in Hobbiton.

He had been brought back to the day he had met Bilbo Baggins.

But why?

Meeting Bilbo could hardly have changed the entire world. Yes, it had changed his world. And yes, he knew things would probably have gone differently at Erebor if Bilbo had not gone on their quest with them. But the entirety of Middle Earth?

It seemed inconceivable, but he would never the difference that Bilbo Baggins could make.

He stopped dead just as he crossed the borders of Hobbiton. If he had been brought back to the day he had met Bilbo, that meant his hobbit did not know him yet. In the original timeline, he had not traveled to the hobbit's home until he had the cover of night. It was barely noon.

Should he continue on? From what Bilbo had told him, he had been alarmed by the unexpected house guests, to the point of considering escaping from his own home and taking a room for the night at the Green Dragon. His hobbit had been quite distressed by the dwarrows who took over his house. Maybe it would be better if he went to Bag End now and explain things to the hobbit, warn him in advance of the coming dwarrows, perhaps convince him to join their quest sooner.

He nodded to himself and continued on, knowing that, for all his rationalization, he was really only going because he did not want to be apart from his One a moment longer. And after how he had treated the hobbit after he had found out about the Arkenstone...

He wanted a chance to prove to Bilbo just how much he meant to him, wanted to assure him that he would never again allow the madness that had gripped him in Erebor to elevate gold and gems above the hobbit, and, though he knew it was impossible, wanted to make up for how he had behaved towards Bilbo during those moments of madness.

Of course, this Bilbo knew nothing about any of that. Did not know that Thorin, in his madness, had tried to throw him off the mountain. Did not know how much Thorin had regretted. Had not held Thorin as he died. Had not cried as he freely gave Thorin his forgiveness, something which meant more to the dwarf than any amount of gold or jewels.

This Bilbo knew none of that because he was not Thorin's Bilbo.

His feet had brought him to Bag End before he had even realized it. The smial was a lot easier to find in the daytime, or maybe it helped that he had been there before. Or maybe his soul just knew how to find his One.

And regardless of this Bilbo not knowing him yet, he was still Thorin's One, was he not? Did it matter that he did not carry the burdens of his Bilbo? Did it matter that he had not endured the pain that Thorin had put his Bilbo through?

But was it fair to use his own knowledge to cultivate a relationship with this Bilbo? It seemed... deceitful. To try and make up for his sins against his Bilbo with the current one felt like a lie. Had he not done enough to his One? Must he lie to him as well?

He could always tell Bilbo the truth, but he was certain that the hobbit would think him crazy. It would be hard enough convincing the hobbit to come on their quest to take back Erebor from Smaug. Getting him to believe that he was the other half of Thorin's soul and that Thorin had been sent back to ensure the future of Middle Earth? It was an impossible task.

As he stood indecisively outside of the gate of Bag End, the round green door opened and his hobbit stepped out and froze upon seeing him. Thorin braced himself for the alarm he knew would enter those beautiful brown eyes. It was only natural, he told himself despite knowing how much it would hurt, how much it would remind him of the true fear those eyes had held when Thorin had attacked him in Erebor. This hobbit did not know him, and Thorin knew that he did not strike an unintimidating figure. He would not allow it to affect him.

"Thorin," the hobbit in front of him breathed, his eyes glistening with tears.

He gasped in surprise. He knew him. His One knew him. "Bilbo," he whispered softly, just staring at the beautiful creature in front of him.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he moved through the gate quickly and, reaching the door, crushed the hobbit to his body. Bilbo was not complaining, though, as he was clutching Thorin back just as desperately.

He pulled back and pressed his forehead against his hobbit's, taking in the sight of his One and breathing him in. He gently wiped away the tears streaming down Bilbo's face with his thumbs.

"Oh, my One, do not cry," he pleaded.

Bilbo made a noise that was a cross between a laugh and a sob. "Don't cry, he says," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Oh, Thorin, it has been so many years. So many. I thought I would have to fight for your love once more."

"Never," he swore. "You have it. You've always had it. I am so sorry for making you think otherwise."

"I don't care," Bilbo laughed wildly. "You're here. You remember me, and I'm not alone in this."

You are but half of a whole.

"You'll never be alone," Thorin promised. "Now, let us get inside and discuss things. Your neighbors will be talking about you ages if we stay out here any longer."

Bilbo laughed again. "I'm sure that is bound to happen anyway. But yes, lots to discuss. Future of Middle Earth and whatnot."

Thorin smiled as he followed his hobbit into his hole. For the first time since waking up, he felt as if he could take on whatever evils this world could throw at him, as long as his One was at his side.

Tbc...