This is Something I Cannot Do
The two lines of his previous conversation with Gandalf run though his head relentlessly.
"Can you promise that I will come back?"
"No. And if you do, you will not be the same."
Bilbo shivers, drawing his arms around himself.
It isn't as if he woke up this morning looking forward to being bothered by a somehow immeasurable number of dwarves. It isn't as if he sat outside waiting for Gandalf the Grey to show up in Bag End. It isn't as if he signed up for this- this terror.
He slumps slightly against the bedpost.
He isn't entirely sure what he's feeling.
In the beginning, he was surprised and angry. The anger gave way to complete irritation by the time that the dwarves raided his pantry. When things calmed down, and while he was still in somewhat disbelief with the situation, Bilbo calmed down, too. And that had been the calm before the storm.
It all led up to the complete and utter terror.
The dwarves need him. They don't have much faith in him, and he can tell, but they look at him with a sort of... well, a sort of something. Bilbo isn't sure that he would call it hope, but he knows that they're looking for that. For someone to place their hope on.
Bilbo does not want to be this person.
He is not a hero.
He is a hobbit, for goodness sake. He is peaceful, he is homely, he is calm and collected and he hates to venture farther than the boundary line of the Shire.
Bilbo closes his eyes.
Through the domed hallways, he hears the dwarves collected in song.
Far over
the misty mountains cold,
to dungeons deep
and caverns old.
Bilbo opens his eyes again, staring towards the wall. He doesn't know what he's looking for. He isn't going to find an answer.
We must away,
ere break of day,
to find
our long-forgotten gold.
Yet, he already knows the answer and it all stems back to the two lines that were circling in his mind.
Gandalf cannot promise that you will come back. And, if you do, you will not be the same Baggins that you are now.
The pines were roaring
on the height.
The winds were moaning
in the night.
Bilbo resists the urge to close his eyes again. He can't just close his eyes on this problem. He wants to, he wants to think that this is all a dream, but now someone's hope is on his shoulders and he hates the heavy feeling.
The fire was red,
it flaming spread.
The trees like torches,
blazed with light.
He knows he can't do this.
But, somehow, for some reason, he feels like he should...
Set, obviously, during the Misty Mountains song in Bilbo's house. I felt so bad for Bilbo, him sitting on the bed, slumped against the bedpost, looking so desolate. I wanted to hug him, you know, if he were real. But, yes, I loved the movie. SO much. I love Bilbo so much.
This is my first The Hobbit piece, and my second venture into the whole Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings fandom. I do not own either of them, obviously. Your thoughts would be lovely! Thanks!