This story was beta edited by KissoftheGrimm, any other mistakes are mine and mine alone.
This is the first story in my newest series. While this story has been marked GA (rating) and there is no pairing both are subject to change as the series progresses. Eventual Bagginshield. My tags seems a bit lacking, suggestions are appreciated.
Bilbo couldn't find it in himself to be as shocked as the situation might call for. He had fallen asleep just after dinner, dusk settling in the sky, the excitement of the trolls taking its toll. Only to be startled awake with the stark howls of wolves far too close to camp and the ever more startling realization that he was alone, not a dwarf to be seen. Fumbling around in the stark light cast off by the moon, Bilbo searched for his pack and once found he dug around through its contents. Eyes never leaving the woods before him, he drew out a blood red cloak and wrapped it around himself; fingers shaking over the clasp. He had only packed it as an afterthought, the brief memory of sitting in his father's study; taking his lessons at his father's knee. That singular memory causing him to reach for the cloak before dashing out the door.
The knowledge had seemingly been lost through time to gentle folk and the like, with the exception of a few dedicated scholars scattered throughout Middle Earth. His father had been one such scholar and had passed his own passion on to Bilbo. There was one specific piece of knowledge important on this night; the legend of the Wolves of the Mountains, the packs that guarded the gold.
A rustle in the bushes caught his attention and Bilbo turned towards the noise to come face to face with a large black wolf that had oddly familiar icy blue eyes. The wolf's muzzle trailed along his body as the animal made a full circle around him; other wolves making their way into camp. Two such wolves broke off from the rest of the pack; one with golden fur that shone in the moonlight and the other a rich brown, tumbled before his feet. They yipped at each other and the larger wolf, who snorted back at them before ambling away. Fíli and Kíli, if their temperament around the black wolf and coloring was anything to go by, had decided it was perfectly acceptable to play hop on the Hobbit and proceeded to knock him to the ground, nuzzling and licking his face.
"Back boys! Off!" Bilbo huffed as he wiggled back from the onslaught of soft fur and saliva. A sharp bark from a larger wolf had the two pulling back and taking off into the woods, Kíli trying to take down his brother.
"This is the oddest dream." Bilbo whispered fighting to keep his voice even as he stood back up. All the wolves ears twitched in his direction and Thorin, if he wasn't mistaken, nudged a loose end of his cloak. The wolf sat on his haunches directly in front of him, head quirked to the side as if in question. Thorin could meet him at eye level despite Bilbo standing at full height in front of him, making for a very large and intimidating wolf.
He shook his head to rid the dark edges of his vision, fumbling back a few steps and tried to catch his breath as the black encompassed his vision completely.
Bilbo groaned and swatted at the brush of fur against his cheek, his head pounding and body feeling flushed. Cold noses nudged at him until he had managed to get into a somewhat upright position. Blearily he looked over the group of wolves, each subdued and vibrating with tension, the moon having barely moved in the sky. "I'm okay, I'm okay." He repeated as a mantra until he found he could believe it himself. When he regained his center he pushed himself off the ground, knocking the wolves away with his hands to accomplish this task.
"Bit of a shock is all." Bilbo continued his voice stronger than before. "We're all going to have a long conversation, just as soon as we can - well you all.."
The wolves broke out into yips and howls each coming up to rub against him. One, he suspected to be Nori from the russet coloring and gleam in his eyes, started to lift his leg after he approached and was run off by another wolf, light in color with a dark streak down his back. Dwalin, if Bilbo had to guess. Balin was a soft white and grey mix that settled next to Bilbo as he made himself comfortable again on the ground. Bifur, a darker grey and black, still had an axe in his skull and grunted at Bofur the chocolate colored wolf next to him. A bright orange wolf that hung around the dwindling fire was sure to be Bombur. Dori, Nori, and Ori all shared the same brown undertone in their coats, but Ori had an orange coat and Dori a grey one. Gloin stood out with his deep red coat and could be found near Oin's, another grey wolf, side throughout the night.
Kíli and Fíli returned not long after and enticed Ori into a few tussles before Dori ran them off. The night came to a lull and Bilbo drifted back to sleep, Balin's coat invitingly warm. Just before dawn Bilbo was awakened to a cold nose on his cheek and a whine in his ear. Thorin huffed at Kíli's antics and wandered into the woods, Dwalin not far behind. One by one the wolves made into the trees and came back as the dwarrows Bilbo knew and recognized.
Their time in Rivendell coming to an end, Bilbo collapsed into the bed that had been provided to him and awoke much warmer than he ought; a trend this last fortnight. Fíli and Kíli were laying on either side of him, their wolf bodies producing far more heat than could be considered comfortable given the mild temperatures of the Company's current location. As he sat up in bed he picked out each member of the Company, shifted currently, sprawled throughout his room.
Bilbo wormed his way out from between the brothers and made for the bathing chamber. As he exited his room he grabbed his red cloak from where it hung on the outside of his door. After relieving himself, he washed away the dirt and grime from the previous day, and sighed as the warm water began to ease the ache in his muscles. Bilbo left the bathing chamber, opting to don his cloak, and started back towards the kitchens in hopes of tracking down some food.
"It has been many years since a Guardian has graced these halls."
Bilbo startled at the voice and turned to find Lord Elrond and another two Elves behind him. He had not seen The Lord of this house since the night of their arrival. "A Guardian, Lord Elrond?" He inquired.
"Peace child of the kindly West, it was not our intention to startle you. This is my Chief Counselor, Erestor, and the Captain of my Guard, Glorfindel. Would you like to join us in breaking our fast, Master Baggins? Rest assured, your pack shall be well fed when they awake."
Bilbo nodded in assent taking in the two new Elves, as different as night and day in his eyes, and followed as Lord Elrond led them into a separate dining area; the small group settling into their meal.
"Lord Elrond, you mentioned a Guardian." Bilbo broached after each of them had had their fill. None of the Elves seemingly surprised by the five plates he had eaten.
"A Guardian of the Night, or so they were called in those times. Is it not the same now?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what that is." Bilbo responded, racking his brains to see if the title rang any bells.
"I had thought it odd that you hadn't arrived here before now. Please forgive the bluntness of this question, Master Baggins, but when did you lose your father?" Lord Elrond asked.
"In my twenty-first year." The memories of that winter taking his breath for a moment.
The dark haired Elf, Erestor, rose and placed a book in front of Bilbo that was open to a family tree; the Baggins family tree upon closer inspection.
"Since the Hobbits settled in the lands now known as the Shire, the Baggins family's eldest heir has journeyed from their home, secreted away in the night, and come to Rivendell as the final piece of their training. This journey has typically occurred on the night of their coming of age, though there has been a few exceptions." Lord Elrond rose from his chair and paced by the archway that led to the gardens. "Long ago, centuries now, when Durins-Folk ruled in Moria the Hobbits of the Anduin Vale would serve the Dwarves of the mountains. When the full moon rose and the wolves left their mountains, the Hobbits watched over the night. While the wolves are large and fearsome beasts, if injured they have no way of healing themselves; this was yet one of the ways the Hobbits served. In order to set themselves apart from those that might mean the wolves harm, the Hobbits wore red cloaks. Much like the one you wear now, Master Baggins.
"There came a rift between the Hobbits and the Dwarves, after which the Hobbits left the Vale and came to settle in the Shire. Some time passed, Durin VI and his son, Nain I, fell and Moria was lost with much of the history between the Dwarves and Hobbits lost with it. One exception being with your family."
"The extra lessons my father gave and the archery he encouraged mother to teach me…"
"Just as he was taught before you. Marrying a Took had its advantages, or so he expressed in his letters."
Bilbo pondered in the information and then looked the Elf Lord in the eye. "If circumstances had been different, I may have asked to stay."
"Know that you shall always be welcome in this House, Master Baggins."
"Bilbo!" Twin calls came from down the hall, the thuds of Dwarven boots coming closer.
He adjusted his grip on the bow when Kíli's hand brushed his own. The lads had drug him out of bed that morning to an open court yard where Kíli had thrust the lad's bow into his hand. Hours later his aim had improved significantly and his impression of the carefree and mischievous dwarrows had risen notably. They had taken their instruction seriously, though not without encouraging smiles and a few good laughs in the process, and Bilbo had flourished under it.
The feel of a bow in his hand and a quiver on his back had brought back memories of happier days in his childhood. He hadn't expected any of the Company to remember his tale, told around the fire nearly a fortnight ago. That they remembered warmed him deeply.
"Fíli, Kíli. Have you eaten yet?" Bilbo inquired as he took in the mischievous looks on the young Dwarrows.
"Lord Elrond granted us permission to hunt tonight." Kíli answered excitedly. "Until then, they've brought us food much like last night." His face scrunched up.
"Thorin has asked that we seek you out and return with you to the room." Fíli added.
"Well, we shouldn't keep him waiting then lest our fearless leader get turned around himself in a search of his own. Lead the way." Bilbo quipped.
They returned to Bilbo's assigned chambers and found only Thorin remained. Bilbo briefly worried what the others might be getting up to.
"Master Baggins, you left us early this morning and did not return." Thorin intoned from where he sat in the small common area near the door.
"Lord Elrond asked me to join him for breakfast, he said you all would be taken care of…"
"We ate well this morning, Master Baggins, and have been offered the opportunity to hunt tonight." Thorin answered grudgingly.
"Hunt?"
"As wolves."
The russet colored wolf had been following him for several minutes now, Nori was up to something. He ducked down the next hall and headed for the gardens, the clicking of the wolf's paws nearly silent on the floor. The moment he stepped down from the stone steps onto the dirt path Nori raced past him, nipping at his hand. The wolf stopped a few feet down the path from him, snorted and took off into the trees. He didn't hesitate for a moment in taking up Nori's challenge and chased after wolf.
Hours later, as the sun was setting, he and Nori made their way back to The Last Homely House covered in dirt, grime, and scratches. They had spent the afternoon in an odd game of tag, moving through the trees and brush as quickly and quietly as they could. His red cloak had seemed impossibly heavy and hard to move with when they had started, but by the end he could move freely despite it.
Bilbo sat in the chair across from Thorin and waited out the silence, the boys having taken off just as soon as they had arrived.
"Could I come out with you tonight?"
Thorin shot him a look. "To what end Master Hobbit? It is not a time for gentle folk to be caught out where they do not belong."
"And gentle folk that do belong?"
"Would you come out with us as our Guardian, Master Baggins?"
"I don't much understand what that means, but with the parts I do understand I feel that I must."
"You wore the cloak." Thorin stated.
"My father had it commissioned when I became a Tween, but he passed the next year. I've only just learned the significance of this cloak this morning."
"Do you know the significance behind the color of your cloak?"
Bilbo shook his head.
"When we shift we can only distinguish the red from the grey of the world." A new voice answered.
He had found Ori among the scrolls in the farthest corner of the library, his lips minutely moving as his eyes scrolled across the parchment. Lord Elrond had graciously allowed them access to his fine collection of history and literature and Ori had been the first to duck the rest of the Company and seek out the solitude and comfort of ink on parchment. It had brought a smile to his lips and after collecting a book of his own he had joined the scribe in the quiet corner.
They had shared the morning hours until lunch in a friendly silence. In the days that passed their love of the written word knitted together a friendship he hadn't been able to find in the other dwarrows.
Bilbo turned in his seat to see Ori and Dori walking in.
"The Hobbits from Before wore red cloaks, their cloaks and their scent were used to denote friend from foe." Thorin expanded.
The rest of the Company filtered in, each coming to brush a hand on Bilbo's shoulder.
"I don't know much about the position, my training has been left incomplete." He started, his eyes focused on his hands. "I do have keen eyes and a knowledge above most in plant lore. I'm quick on my feet and can move in silence when the situation calls for it." Bilbo took a deep breath and looked each dwarf in the eye. "I would be honored to stand as your Guardian tonight."
The howls that filled the air steadied his racing heart one by one the wolves rushed past and disappearing into the night. The Guardian pulled the bow taught and waited; the pack hunted as one this night.