I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
- The Invitation by Oriah
Then:
The day after she came of age, Bilbo stood at the gate to Bag End for the first time in years. She had avoided coming here. In fact, she had only been back two or three times since she was moved to Tuckbourough under the care of her Took relatives in the wake of her parents' deaths.
But she had decided about a year ago that she could picture no other place to live out her life. She could picture no other place in which to settle down and start a family.
That didn't make it any easier to walk past the ghosts that lived on the front step, unfortunately.
Gentle fingertips brushed up against hers, reminding Bilbo that she wasn't alone. She interlaced her hand with the one being offered, taking comfort in the familiarity.
When she glanced up, Freddie was studying her with concerned eyes and furrowed brows.
"I'm sure," said Bilbo, nodding, in response to his unvoiced question. Despite this statement, it was another long moment before she convinced herself to take a step forward.
The love of her life was a steady presence at her back, giving her strength to keep moving forward.
They walked quietly through the smial together, hand in hand. It startled Bilbo how unchanged everything was, how everything was exactly as she had left it. As though the past ten years hadn't happened at all. Bilbo half expected her mother and father to come around the corner and ask what mischief she had been up to.
She did her best to shake the melancholy from her mind and focus instead on the joy she felt at being home again.
"When we're married, I want to live here," Bilbo announced once they had been to every room in the smial.
"I assumed as much," Fredegar replied wryly, "but you know, Bilbo, we're not actually engaged yet."
Bilbo arched an eyebrow, looking to him with an expression that she hoped conveyed how unamused she was. "You had better hurry up and propose then, haven't you? If not, I just might decide to take matters into my own hands. Can you imagine the scandal?"
She turned sharply on her heel and strode away, finally allowing a smirk to grace her lips.
There was incredulous silence for a moment, then, "You wouldn't, Bilbo. Would you? Bilbo? Bilbo!"
Bilbo laughed aloud, then marveled at the way the noise echoed through the smial like it belonged there. She was glad he was in a good mood today. She liked it best when they could banter like this.
"Come, now," she said when he had caught up to her. Before he could become upset, Bilbo assured him that she was only trying to be funny and would, of course, be sticking to propriety. Then she smiled and asked, "Shall we go to the market and see about restocking the pantries?"
.
Now:
Thanks to Gandalf's deceit, Bilbo had no food prepared for her guests. Also thanks to Gandalf's deceit, her guests were starving and had come expecting a feast of Hobbit proportions (which were quite legendary amongst neighboring communities). Bilbo hoped, rather vindictively, that Gandalf was hungry and she vowed to make sure he was served last.
Since the evening had already been a disaster of epic proportion, void of proper manners and etiquette, Bilbo felt only a small twinge of guilt as she breached etiquette once more to ask her guests for help.
"If you don't mind," she said, once coats and weapons had been shuffled off to a side room, "I would appreciate some help in preparing supper. The Wizard gave me no warning-" at this, several Dwarves glared at Gandalf, who quickly excused himself from the room- "and I have nothing prepared. I feel a terrible host asking this of you, but if one of you were willing to aid me, I'm sure I could have something ready within the hour."
To Bilbo's surprise, all of the Dwarves offered to help and were quite enthusiastic about doing so. After Bilbo assured them that everything in her kitchen and pantries were at their disposal, they set about creating a veritable feast. The little Hobbit host ended up cooking nearly nothing at all. The Dwarves worked exceptionally well together, with acrobatics and theatrics that had Bilbo gaping.
After watching the Dwarves open-mouthed for a few embarrassingly long moments, Bilbo put on a kettle for tea and then left the kitchen to her guests. She set off to find Gandalf.
She found him in the sitting room, studying the portraits of her parents that were hung above the fireplace. Not sure what to say, Bilbo quietly went to stand by his side. She stared up at her mother's portrait, soaking in the kindness in her eyes that the artist had been able to capture and the way her lips quirked upwards into a smile. As Bilbo transferred her gaze to the portrait of her father, admiring as she always did the proud set to his shoulders and contentment in his eyes, she felt Gandalf's eyes turn to her.
He was quiet for a moment, then smiled. "I dare say you've impressed them, my dear."
Bilbo looked to him, startled. "Whatever do you mean?"
"A home means quite a lot to a Dwarf. And in the matter of a few hours, you've not only shown them the lengths to which you will go to defend yours, but you have also welcomed them into it with open arms."
Bilbo flushed slightly at this description of her actions. It sounded an awful lot more impressive than her panicking and pulling a knife on a complete stranger and then offering up her meager hospitality as the best apology she could scrape together on such short notice. "Well," she blustered, "when you put it like that…"
She caught sight of Gandalf's pleased expression and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'm still upset with you, Gandalf," she reminded him sternly. Then she relented, because she was a Hobbit after all, "but I've put on a pot of tea. I hope you'll join me."
"It would be my pleasure."
.
Hours later, the feasting was finally beginning to wind down when a knock sounded at the door. Everyone went still and quiet.
Taking his pipe from his mouth, Gandalf announced ominously - rather unnecessary, Bilbo thought, but he had always been one for dramatics - "He's here."
Gandalf rose from the darkened corner where he'd been sitting and moved toward the entryway. He reached for the door but Bilbo pushed him aside, muttering about her poor hosting skills and good gracious, her father would be horrified at the way she'd handled her guests.
She swung the door open and took a small step back in surprise. She had obviously expected that the person on her doorstep was her remaining Dwarf, but she hadn't expected a figure quite so intimidating. He was tall and rugged, and looked quite striking against the shadows of the night. It was strange, the way he held himself. It was confident and proud and serious. Bilbo found herself standing up straighter and pulling back her shoulders.
There was a pause as she and the Dwarf observed each other, then Bilbo remembered her manners. She bowed. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."
"Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, at yours."
The Dwarf, Thorin, stepped into her smial, looming over her. A single braid of dark hair slipped over his shoulder as he ducked through the door, the bead glittering in the light. Thorin's piercing blue eyes flickered to Gandalf, then to the Dwarves that had followed Bilbo and Gandalf back to the front room. His eyes roamed over them, as if making sure they were all hale and accounted for.
Then he returned to his evaluation of Bilbo. From the way the corner of his lips twitched upward into a skeptical smirk and the way his eyebrows climbed higher as he looked her up and down, Bilbo was sure that she had been found lacking.
"So this is the Hobbit…" He circled her like a predator searching for weaknesses to exploit. For the second time that evening, Bilbo felt like prey.
For a moment, all she could picture was a white wolf, its fur matted and ribs prominently on display as it circled her. Fresh blood dripping from its jaws.
Bilbo's right hand curled uselessly around empty air, and she found that she ached to have her knife back in her possession. It had become something of a safety net. But now it was sitting uselessly in the kitchen were it belonged and that left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Helpless.
"Ah, Thorin!" exclaimed a voice from behind Bilbo, bringing the standoff to an abrupt halt. "Could I have a word?"
Balin quickly ushered Thorin back out the door, pausing for just a moment to beg Bilbo's pardon.
Behind Bilbo, one of the Dwarves snickered. "I wish Balin would do that every time Uncle went to stick his foot in his mouth."
There was a thump and a quiet, hissed "ow!" The Dwarves began to file back into the dining area, a few throwing curious glances at the front door as they went.
Bilbo shook her head to clear it, then glanced back at Gandalf. He was, she was not surprised to find, studying her as though she was a particularly interesting puzzle. She shook her head again, this time in exasperation.
"You still haven't told me what these Dwarves are doing here, Gandalf," she scolded.
"All in due time, my dear. All in due time."
.
In due time turned out to mean as soon as Balin allowed Thorin back inside Bag End. As the Dwarven leader took a seat at the head of the dining room table to eat the meal that had been set aside for him, Bilbo finally got her answers.
She was not particularly pleased.
"Me? A burglar? Why, I've never stolen a thing in my life! Well, perhaps a few pies or some of Farmer Maggot's mushrooms, but that's beside the point." Bilbo gestured wildly as she spoke, trying to regain her balance in the wake of the suggestion that she was a burglar, of all things.
"I'm afraid I'll have to agree with Miss Baggins," said Balin, looking kindly to her before returning his attention to Thorin. "She's hardly burglar material."
Bilbo nodded emphatically, feeling rather relieved that at least one of these Dwarves still had a bit of sense.
"Aye," said Dwalin. "Fierce as she may have been defending her home this evening, the wild is still no place for gentlefolk."
For a moment, Bilbo thought that would be the end of the matter. But then Gandalf, who had apparently not meddled enough yet, convinced the Dwarves that Bilbo's presence was necessary for the success of the quest.
"Very well," said Thorin finally. "We'll have it your way. Give her the contract."
"What?" Bilbo's eyes widened as Balin handed her a contract, which unfolded itself to rest on the floor.
Bilbo very nearly handed the contract right back.
"I can't possibly consider this," she protested. "I'm a Hobbit. A Baggins of Bag End. I can't just run out on my life here! I have a fian-"
Bilbo stopped short. "Oh," she whispered, and her shoulders curled as she fought the instinct to collapse in on herself.
Balin took the opportunity her sudden silence provided to explain what the contract outlined. The Hobbit nodded absently along, but her thoughts were far away.
She had spent the past week despairing over how to proceed. For the hours that she had spent contemplating her next step, she'd had nothing to show for it. She could come up with no option but to pretend that nothing had ever happened. Which she would do just as soon as she could convince herself to step back outside of her garden. And if any of her friends and neighbors would play along, which she knew they wouldn't.
But here was another option. One that had practically fallen into her lap at just the moment when she needed it most.
Feeling thoughtful, Bilbo held the contract to her chest and straightened up, pulling back her shoulders with conviction. She looked up to find fourteen pairs of eyes on her as her guests waited with bated breath.
"If you'll excuse me," she said because she needed more time to think. Much more. "I must read this over and give it proper consideration. Please help yourselves to anything you want. There's some ale left, I believe, and a barrel of Old Toby for your pipes."
"Of course, Miss Baggins," said Balin. If Bilbo wasn't mistaken, she'd say he looked rather pleased. "Take all the time you need."
"Thank you," she told him, then nodded to both Thorin and Gandalf.
She retreated to her father's old study, sitting at his desk like she once had when she was young and had taken to pretending she was the head of the household so she could boss around her amused parents. Bilbo took a deep breath to calm herself - was she really considering this madness? - and settled in to read.
When she'd finished, Bilbo sat back to consider her options, limited as they were. She could join these strangers on their dangerous and insane quest that would, in all likelihood, end in disfiguration or death at the mercy of a dragon (a dragon!) if nothing else, or she could… What? Stay in the Shire and panic every time someone came calling? Stay, and lose sleep over the possibility of someone finding out what she had let happen to her? Stay, and-
There was a knock on the door.
"Bilbo? Are you alright?"
.
Then:
"Bilbo, are you alright? Please answer the door."
It was Fredegar again. He'd come the day before at tea time and knocked while Bilbo stared at the door with glassy eyes and pretended she wasn't home. He'd loitered in the garden for a few minutes when she hadn't answered, likely hoping he could catch her coming home, before he finally gave up and went away.
He was back again and it was barely even elevensies.
"Bilbo, I know you're in there. I spoke with the Gamgees. They said you haven't left Bag End since the party."
There was a short silence, then a frustrated noise. "Please, Bilbo. Are you alright? Should I call for a doctor?"
She should say something. Say something before he roused the whole of Hobbiton and brought concerned neighbors down around her ears. But what?
Bilbo still hadn't figured out what exactly she was feeling, or why it felt like something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. If she couldn't figure it out in her own head, then how was she supposed to articulate it without hurting Fredegar's feelings?
There was nothing for it then. She would have to lie.
Just until she sorted out her head, of course.
"I… I'm fine, Freddie," Bilbo called out, taking a tentative step across the front room toward the door.
"Bilbo!" A sigh of relief. "I was getting so worried! Why didn't you answer me?"
"I'm sorry, I just… I haven't been feeling well." There. Not quite a lie, not quite the truth.
"So I should call the doctor, then?" The worry had returned to his voice. Bilbo hated that she had put it there.
"No, no," she hurried to assure him. She scrambled for an excuse. "It's just the spring sickness that Petunia came down with before the party. I think she must have passed it along to me. I know it will pass in time; no need for a doctor."
"At least let me in," Fredegar urged. "You must be tired. Let me make you some tea."
Any other time, she would have been touched by this gesture. Fredegar hardly ever offered something like this. Now, though, it only inspired panic. She could not let him in. Not right now.
"You're very kind, Fredegar," Bilbo managed, voice raw with emotion. "But I don't wish to get you sick."
There was a pause, then a sigh. "If you're sure, Bilbo…"
"I am," she hurried to assure him.
There was the sound of feet shuffling, as though he was turning to leave. Another pause. "At least promise me you'll send one of the Gamgees for me if you need anything. Anything at all, Bilbo. I mean it."
Bilbo reached up a hand to brush away the tears collecting in her eyes. "I will," she lied.
.
Now:
"Bilbo?" Another quiet knock.
"I'm quite alright, Gandalf," Bilbo choked out. "I just… need to sit quietly for a moment."
"You've been sitting quietly for far too long, Bilbo Baggins."
It was true. What had she done for the past ten days but sit quietly?
"Okay," she muttered to herself. "Okay, Bilbo, think this through."
If she did decide to go along with this crazy idea, she would be gone from the Shire for a year, possibly even two. She would spend that time trekking across Middle Earth with thirteen strange Dwarves and a Wizard. Sleeping outside and eating little (the contract mentioned only two meals a day. Two!) and not being able to bathe on a regular basis.
The quest would be inherently dangerous and uncomfortable, that was certain. But would she find danger with these strangers? They had seemed kind enough this evening, even after frightening her so badly. But could she really trust them?
Bilbo opened the door to the study, not surprised in the least to find Gandalf still lurking in the hall.
"Gandalf," she began hesitantly, unsure of how to phrase the question, "these Dwarves… are they safe?"
The Wizard raised a bushy eyebrow at her. "Safe?" he echoed. "Certainly not. They are fierce warriors, determined to reach their homeland. They will not hesitate to destroy anything that stands in their way… But that is not what you are asking, is it? My dear Bilbo, Dwarves are unbelievably loyal to each other and to those they would call their allies. The rest of the world may not be safe from the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, but they would never harm you."
Bilbo considered this for a moment. If there was anyone she could trust to be a good judge of character, she supposed, it was Gandalf the Gray. So she could be assured that these Dwarves would not try to harm her.
She thought for a long moment, peering down at the contract she still held in her hands. She weighed the reasons to go - there were many - against the reasons to stay. She thought of Fredegar, who had been so concerned for her in the past week and a half and who would feel so angry and betrayed if she left without warning. But she hadn't been able to face him since that night, and she was uncertain of how long it would take her to finally do so.
Perhaps she was running away.
"Alright then," she said, nodding decisively.
She marched past Gandalf and into the sitting room where the Dwarves had gathered to smoke. They grew quieter when they noticed her. She looked to Thorin, knowing he was the leader, but hoped desperately that he wouldn't be the one she needed to talk to. His presence was imposing and intimidating.
"Who would I speak to about making changes to the contract?" asked Bilbo. She might be willing to join this suicidal quest in her desperation to run from her problems, but Bilbo wasn't gullible enough to sign a contract without some clarification and negotiating. At the very least, allowances would need to be made for her Hobbit appetite.
Thorin studied her for a moment, considering. Then, without taking his eyes off Bilbo, he called out for Balin.
Bilbo nodded sharply, holding in a sigh of relief, and led the wizened Dwarf back to her father's study.
It was nearly an hour later when Bilbo was finally satisfied with the contract. Several loopholes had been closed and Bilbo's questions had been answered. A new clause allowed that she would bring along her own funds and would be permitted to stock up on food in any settlement they passed, so long as it didn't delay the Company more than three hours and she only got as much as she could carry herself.
When all was said and done, Bilbo quickly signed her name with a flourish before she could think better of it.
Then she gathered up the contract and passed it over to Balin. The Dwarf took it with a grandfatherly smile.
Balin led her back to the sitting room, where he delivered the contract to Thorin and the two Dwarves poured over it with muted gestures, quiet words, and a few frowns. Finally, Balin folded up the contract, nodding. He looked to Thorin, who gave a solemn nod in turn.
"Everything seems to be in order," Balin announced. "Welcome to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, Miss Baggins."
Around her, the Dwarves cheered.
.
Later that evening, Bilbo paused in her hurried packing as a haunting melody filled every room of her smial. Something about the song of mourning the Dwarves were singing resonated with Bilbo. She sat heavily on the edge of her bed, put her head in her hands, and cried.
