Despite the difficulties of acquiring pipe-weed in Valinor, Bilbo Baggins still managed to get enough to have a pleasant smoke at the end of every day. He would face the sunset over his small garden with a smile of contentment on his old, wrinkled face, basking in well-deserved respite. A while back some of the elves had tried to find out exactly where he got the pipe-weed, (Which was reminiscent of Old Toby, not that they would know) but no-one had ever quite figured it out. Eventually, they had simply given up. He was a hobbit, after all, and was entitled to a few oddities. 'Still,' It occurred to Bilbo as he sensed a beautiful, powerful presence draw near, 'It may be in my best interests to quit. It is a bit embarrassing to be approached by Yavanna while burning plants for smoke.'

He turned to face her, the Valar's face shining with green, living beauty. "Good evening! I trust that all is well in Valmar? Or have you come to simply keep a poor old body company on this fine night?" She smiled softly, her radiance dimming slightly as she seemed to become more tangible next to him, a delicate hand resting gently on his shoulder. "Ah, Bilbo. Ever your tongue finds the words to bring fondness and joy into my heart. If you had been crafted by my husband Aulë, I am sure it would have been forged from silver." Bilbo smiled. His heart was racing from the close proximity of his maker, but that would never blunt his manners. Or wit. "I should hope not! I don't care how beautiful or well made it was, I fear a silver tongue would hinder my speech rather than encourage it."

Yavanna's laughter rang out, causing elves to stop and prick their ears, wondering at a sound of such beauty and joy. "Indeed, I am glad that it was I who had the pleasure of creating you. It makes my heart swell with pride to witness your impact on others. However," Her face grew more sober, a slight furrow appearing on her brow. The sunset suddenly seemed somewhat duller, and Bilbo's petunias drooped slightly.

"As it was I who made you, so it is I who must escort you to your place in my pastures with your kin." Bilbo's heart sank. He had hoped, what with these being the 'undying lands' and all that, that perhaps he would not have to pass on as all hobbits eventually do. Frodo and Sam would be very unhappy. "I know that you probably do not wish this, and if I am honest with myself, neither do I." She paused, giving Bilbo an unreadable look. He waited patiently for her to continue. It was no use trying to decipher the thoughts of The Valar.

"You have been given a choice, Bilbo Baggins." Bilbo's stomach flip-flopped. A choice? between what? "A choice to have your spirit leave this body and come to rest, or to travel through the veils of time and space back to a place before many decisions came to pass." Bilbo couldn't believe he was hearing this. A chance to go back? "Do you mean something like reincarnation?" He asked carefully. "Yes, a bit. You would be sent back to the time you first met Mithrandir, the day so many things in your little life changed forever."

Bilbo slowly set down his pipe, straightening his neckerchief as he searched for something to do with his slightly shaking hands. The company. The quest. His adventure. He would be lying if he said that the majority of time he spent on that journey was pleasant, but it had changed him irrevocably, and he would never give up the time he spent on it for the world. But to got through it, the old one would be lost forever to all but him. Did he want to do that? Destroy that journey he had gone on?

"You may not be the only one." His head whipped up, swift enough to crack his neck. "Another from your journey may join you. My husband believes the same as I, that our children may be able to help change the course of fate and bring a more peaceful transition between ages. So, he is inviting one of his own sons to come back to the past as well. But, that is his decision. The world at large may never see the same course of events you know, but we Valar do not forget. We will remember. We always do." Her eyes watched him. Waiting for his response. Searching for his answer. He smiled at her, slowly standing with the help of his cane. She held out her hand, gently supporting him.

Bilbo wondered how many times the course of fate had been re-worked like this before. How many dark tragedies had The Valar tried to erase? And yet, despite their best efforts, the world was still such a dangerous place. "Well now then, are you going to send me back, or must I figure out this time-travel business on my own?" A radiant smile lit up Yavanna's face, calling the sunset into clarity and the flowers into full blossom. She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss onto Bilbo's wrinkled forehead. "May your travels be swift and joyous, my brave little lion." Bilbo sat down heavily, feeling his eyelids droop and his senses dull. It was like he was falling asleep with a river rushing over him, drowning his senses as he drifted into sweet nothingness.

There was a cock crowing. Why on earth did the blasted birds need to do that every morning? If there was one thing he most certainly did not miss from The Shire, then it was being woken up early every damned morning by those Valar-forsaken birds. Wait. He was in Valinor. Chickens didn't live there.(At least, not to the best of his knowledge. The elves still found chicken meat to cook, somehow...) Wait. Yavanna. Was he dead? No. The choice. Bilbo bolted upright, eyes wide as he took in surroundings that he had not seen for over 80 years. Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

It had really happened. Quickly, he rushed to the standing mirror that had been cracked by Frodo practicing conkers indoors when he was young.

"No, no Frodo lad. It's all in the flick of your wrist, not the power of your swing."

His hair, which towards the end had been white and flyaway and, if he was honest with himself, there had not been very much of, was now thick and brown, a tousled crop of curls. The hair on his feet was much thicker too, far more respectable than it had been at any point in Valinor.

Well, then. He was definitely younger, no matter where or when he was. Suddenly, a wide grin lit up his face. He was young again. Well, technically middle aged, but still young. With a whoop, he charged out of his bedroom in nothing more than his night shirt, doing no less than four cartwheels before shoving the front door open and breathing in the cool morning air with perfect sinuses. Then, with a ridiculous grin still plastered on his face, he raced all the way down the lane to the party tree, stopped, and raced back to Bag End. Damn, was it good to be able to run! The cane may have been useful for whacking Elladan and Elrohir whenever those devious twins got into some mischief, but he much preferred being able to walk without aid or aching, creaking joints.

With a winded groan of contentment, he crashed onto his armchair, enjoying the ability of his 50 year old body to take roughage that would have caused serious injury at age 133. He glanced upwards at his father's grandfather clock.(Which had gone missing after the auction when he was presumed dead. He had a sneaking suspicion that the Chubbs had got ahold of it, but he was never able to prove anything.) It was 7:30. And if it was the day he thought it was… He raced down the hallway to his kitchen, almost ripping the calendar of the wall in his haste to get a look at it. Oh. Well then. Another glance at the clock. He had exactly half an hour to make himself respectable enough to greet a wizard, and a grand total of ten hours to prepare rooms and cook for 14 crude, burly, hungry, muddy dwarves. Suddenly, the weight of just what was happening hit him.

He sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs, eyes wide and breath hitched. He was going to see the company. He was going on the adventure again. He was going to have to re-make friendships that he had had for decades. And he was going to have to watch as his beloved smial was wrecked by the company for the second damned time. He took a deep, calming breath. Well, one thing was for certain. If he survived this dinner party, then he would be able to survive anything he could possibly meet out on the open road. He hurriedly pulled on a proper shirt, trousers, yellow striped suspenders, a yellow waistcoat and a blue neckerchief. He wished that he owned some less flamboyant morning wear. Sometimes it was just not worth it to be fashionable when the result was looking like a puffed up canary. After a brief inner debate he decided to simply skip first breakfast. Yup. Definitely not as respectable as he used to be.

He pulled out his pipe (The old, plain one he had used before being gifted a carved one by the company in Erebor), and went out to sit on the bench by his front gate. In later years he had moved the bench to the top of the stairs, closer to his front door and farther away from passing neighbors, but in these days he had still rather enjoyed being able to remark upon other hobbits passing by. He pulled out a pouch of pipeweed-real Old Toby, not the slightly less potent brand he had used in Valinor. Making an effort to wait as patiently as possible, he closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the smell of freshly cut grass and the warm light of the sun on his face. Well, he tried to enjoy them until a puff of smoke was rather rudely directed at his nose by a certain wayward wizard.

He gave Gandalf a slightly peeved look, the sort he would direct at a fauntling who had caused some small mischief and interrupted his gardening. Gandalf simply gave him that unreadable, slightly appraising look he had seen so many times before. Honestly. Well, there was nothing for it. Best to get pleasantries out of the way, and let Gandalf have a bit of fun as well. "Good Morning!" he said, peeved expression melting away to an open smile.

"What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?" Wizards."Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?" Bilbo raised an eyebrow, giving Gandalf his best 'I'm not buying your bullshit, -never-say-anything-straight-out-and-be-done-with-it.' look. Over the long years of friendship with him, he had all but perfected it, and seeing Gandalf come as close to squirming as any wizard ever would was immensely satisfying.

"All of them at once. Now, what would bring Gandalf The Grey to my humble abode?" Gandalf drew back slightly, eyes narrowing to regard him more closely. "I am pleased to find that you remember my name, and that I belong to it. I suppose that you should know that I am looking for someone to share in an adventure." Bilbo drew himself up in mock shock and indignity. "What, me, Belladonna Took's son, go on an adventure? Gandalf, my dear fellow, surely you jest!"

When Gandalf actually did open his mouth to protest, Bilbo burst out laughing, choking slightly on lingering smoke from his pipe. "Oh good lord, Gandalf, haven't you ever heard of sarcasm? Yes, I am indeed interested in this 'adventure' thing you're talking about. Come inside, and I'll make you some tea so we can discuss the whole matter." Gandalf paused, keen eyes sweeping over Bilbo, lost in thought for some moments. Then, with a smile, he clapped him on the shoulder and said "Yes, Bilbo, there are many aspects of this journey that it would be good for us to have a talk about. Now then, would you happen to have any scones?" Bilbo led him smilingly up the front steps, thinking to himself that it was good to have his old confidant and partner in disrespectability back.

The talk with Gandalf took about an hour, which was impressive because in the entirety of that hour Gandalf somehow managed to tell him only one thing. There were going to be dwarves coming to his house later that evening. Wonderful. He was about to be besieged by a small army of ravenous dwarrows, and all that damned wizard had bothered telling him was, "Expect a few friends of mine who will be sharing in this venture some time this evening." Thank the Valar for his foresight, otherwise things wouldn't have turned out much better than they had last time. As it was, he knew that he had more than enough food to feed all of the company in his pantry already. But. These were his friends. Even if none of them knew him yet. And he was going to get them some of the best The Shire had to offer.

He spent some time trading with his neighbors, namely Hamfast and the Bolgers. Finally, after cooking frenziedly for the entirety of the afternoon, he was able to sit back for a moment and admire the preparations he had made. The dining table had been dragged into the hallway so that there was enough room for all of the dwarves, and the antique chairs that nobody was supposed to sit in had been dragged around it so that everybody had a place. He hadn't set the table, since he wasn't supposed to know how many of them were coming, and simply hoped nobody noticed that there were exactly fourteen chairs out.

He had also taken the liberty of placing a shoe scraper by the front door, and a mat for everybody to wipe their boots on afterwards. he knew from many visits to Bag End by his friends that it was pointless to ask them to take of their footwear, although how they managed to stay sane with their feet always stuffed into those leather contraptions escaped him. He had just finished making a congratulatory cup of tea when the doorbell rang. 'And so it begins' He thought.

At least this time he wasn't wearing his dressing gown. With a wide smile on his face, he opened the door to see a very tall, muscular, and bald dwarf turn round to face him."Dwalin, At yer service." Bilbo beamed up at him, the dwarf's face so familiar that it made him want to burst out laughing at his stony expression. "Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo, at yours." He gave a small bow, then gestured for Dwalin to come inside.

"Come on in now, Gandalf told me to be expecting some dwarves this evening, although I confess I'm not entirely sure how many of you there will be. Dinner is over through there-" He pointed in the direction of the kitchen, taking Dwalin's cloak graciously, "And you may lay all of your weapons and other things you don't want to have to carry all through the house on that table to your right. Oh, and do go back outside and scrape off your boots, I will not have you tracking mud all through the house."

Dwalin walked out and obediently cleaned off his boots, then hefted his axes onto the table. "Your knuckle dusters as well. Those things will scratch up my table dreadfully and I don't wish to have to worry over such nuisances before going on a long journey." Dwalin glared at him. These were his knuckle dusters. He had taken them off perhaps twice over the course of as many months. He always kept them on. Always. "Off. Now." Dwalin had no idea how the hell a hobbit could suddenly look so fierce and intimidating when he was wearing his suspenders down and was a full head shorter than himself, but by Mahal this one managed it.

He meekly took off and set down his beloved knucks. "There. Much better. Now come on, have some dinner, there's plenty of it." Dwalin began to follow his host, just as he heard the doorbell ring again. "Oh! I'll get it!" Bilbo barreled past Dwalin, readying his most welcoming smile as he opened the door again. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service!" "Balin, at yours. Am I late?" Bilbo stepped aside to allow the older dwarf access into his home.

"Why no, they've only just begun to arrive. I believe your comrade is currently in the process of raiding my cookie jar." Sure enough, Dwalin was trying fruitlessly to fit his meaty fist into a glass jar of biscuits. "Oh ho! Evening, brother!" Dwalin looked up from his attempts, a wide grin spreading across his face as he set the jar down and approached his kin. "By my beard," He leaned forward in mock scrutiny, "you are shorter and wider than last we met." Balin smiled exasperatedly. "Wider, not shorter. And sharp enough for both of us." Dwalin laughed, booming voice echoing through the smial. Then, both of them grinning widely, they clasped each other's shoulders and slammed their foreheads together.

Bilbo winced slightly. He never had quite gotten used to that particular dwarvish tradition. It just looked so much like it hurt. Well, whatever made them happy. Dwalin placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Have ye eaten?" Bilbo could have smacked himself. He should have asked that! "The kitchen is right through that doorway there, if you're hungry." Both of the dwarves looked up, and Balin gave him a warm smile. "Thank you, laddie, we'll just make ourselves at home." They approached the kitchen, but when they saw what was in it they stopped dead. "Is everything alright? I was only told you would be coming in the late morning, so I didn't have time to cook a few of the things I would have liked, and of course getting boar meat in The Shire was out of the question, so I had to find a substitute for the Khêndun…"

It had taken nearly 7 hours of cooking and baking to put a reunion's worth of dwarvish and hobbitish dishes on the table, but by Yavanna it was worth it to see the expression on his friends faces. "You… how…" "My mother, Belladonna Took, used to go on adventures herself. She brought a few dwarrows to visit once or twice, so I know what sort of foods they like, and what large appetites they have." Well, not very large when compared to a hobbit's, but they could still shovel down a decent amount of food when they really wanted to. Dwalin turned to face him, mouth hanging open and eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"But…" "No buts! I didn't buy out every spice grower in The Shire just to have you all gawk at the food I prepared. Go ahead and have at it! I daresay that there is enough for all of you." Dwalin's mouth snapped shut, and he all but shoved his brother to the side as he rushed into the kitchen, quickly filling up his bowl with some of the heavily seasoned beef stew. Balin, however, lingered in the hallway.

"You certainly put forth a lot of effort in making all this, ." Bilbo shrugged. "You are my guests. And I believe in treating guests with respect and courtesy. I know a thing or two of the dwarves of Erebor, and you are all welcome in my house." Balin gave him a grim smile. "Usually, when people think that they know a thing or two of the dwarves of Erebor, they are inclined to say the exact opposite. I thank you kindly, ." Bilbo waved his hand, as if shooing away the compliment. "Now then, I'll have none of that. You just go on with your brother and make yourself at home. There is no need for you to thank me." A wry grin crossed his face. "So long as you don't break anything."

Balin gave him one last look, then moved on to the kitchen, scolding his brother for trying to take all of the Gurbok. Bilbo sighed, leaning against the wall and pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't know if he would be able to talk to all of his old friends like he had to Balin and Dwalin. It had been a very long time since he had seen some of them, and the idea of facing Fili and Kili…

He hadn't seen Kili's corpse before the funeral. He thought that it would be easier, that maybe when the blood was washed away and the body placed in finery, the sight of the young prince dead would be easier to bear. It wasn't. Not at all.

There was a knock on the door.

This time, Bilbo approached the door more slowly, taking a deep breath before opening it, smiling from ear to ear. "Fili-" "and Kili-" "At your service!" "You must be Mr. Boggins!" It was a very good thing that Bilbo's training in manners and scolding young hobbits both surfaced, otherwise he might have had a slight mental breakdown right then and there. "Bilbo Baggins at yours. Baggins. If you try and pretend you don't know what my name really is throughout the rest of this night, Then I will be forced to hit you repeatedly in the head with my frying pan, and I don't wish to dent it, so just do us both a favour and remember."

He stepped back, ushering the brothers into the hallway. "Weapons over there, food is right through there, and for the love of The Valar, please scrape your boots." Kili made a move towards his mother's glory box. "On the bootscraper outside!" "Aaah, so that's was what it was!" Fili and Kili both deposited their weapons (Although Fili retained about half of the dozen or so knives he kept on his person, but Bilbo wasn't going to make a fuss over that.), and then proceeded to go back out the door and take care of their boots.

Once they were out of sight, Bilbo slumped slightly and blew out a breath of air. 'Well,' He thought, 'I didn't need those ten years they scared off my life anyway.' However, he found that after first seeing them, being with them wasn't really as hard as he had thought it would be. they were just so alive, that it was hard to connect them to the cold, lifeless corpses he had said goodbye to in Erebor. As Kili and Fili made their way back inside, Kili stopped to examine the curve of the hallway.

"It's nice, this place. Did you do it yourself?" Bilbo shook his head. "No, my father made it for my mother when they were first wed, and then it was passed on to me." "Oh!" Fili poked his head through the doorway, frowning at his brother and motioning for him to come on. "But then where do they live?" With a small groan, the elder Durin brother smacked his head in frustration.

"I'm afraid that both of my parents passed on during the fell winter of 2911. The Brandywine river froze over, and a wolf pack crossed it, and, well…" He gave Kili a somewhat sad smile and shrugged. "My mother never was one to pass up on excitement. And my father would protect her no matter where she went." Kili's eye's went wide. "Er… oh… I-I'm so sorry…" Bilbo rolled his eyes, giving a more genuine smile and patting him on the shoulder.

"Oh, don't be. It happened a very long time ago, and I have made my peace with it. Besides, I doubt that my mother would be very happy if she knew that I spent the rest of my life mourning her. Now go on, I believe that if you ignore your brother any longer he is going to create a hurricane with all of that arm flapping of his." Fili was indeed now gesturing frantically for Kili to come on, and signing rapidly in Iglishmêk, 'Leave It alone! Leave it alone!' Kili's face turned a deep shade of red, and he excused himself with a mumble that may or may not have been,'Goddamn bastard coulda warned me sooner.'

Bilbo simply sighed and shook his head in exasperation, as the princes went into the next room and met with Balin and Dwalin. A self- satisfied smirk rose up as he heard the exclamations of joy upon their discovery of the food. Then, a long, hard ring on the doorbell. Well. that could only mean one thing. Bilbo positioned himself carefully, so that he could jump out of the way as soon as possible after opening the door. Then, he pulled it open.

A huge mass of hair and muscle crashed onto his floormat, grunts and moans heralding the arrival of no less than eight dwarves. 'No matter how many times you see it,' Thought Bilbo as he looked on, trying valiantly smother his laughter, 'It never becomes any less of a spectacle.' "Oh dear, are you alright? Yes? Good, well then weapons go over here, food is over there, and my name is Bilbo Baggins, at your service." The dwarves all stopped swearing at each other in Khuzdul for a moment to introduce themselves and politely place their implements of destruction on the indicated table. Of course, once they saw the almost-dwarvish food on the table, they forgot all about their mishap at the door.

"Master Baggins, did you do all of this yourself ?" Bilbo turned round to face Bombur, who was eyeing the food on the table with an expression of keen interest. "Why yes. I would have done a few more dishes, but I'm afraid I had a rather limited time to prepare. Gandalf only told me that you would be coming around nine." Bombur's eyes widened. "You've been working on all of this since then?! It's 6:30!" Bilbo raised an eyebrow. It wasn't that much effort for some good friends of his, and seeing them happy was well worth his hard work.

"Well, actually, I finished around 5:50. And besides, it isn't that much, for a hobbit at least. I actually probably would have had enough to feed all of you with the things that were in my pantry already, but I wanted to make an effort to help you all feel welcome. And I've hosted far larger parties than this one before. Honestly, it's no trouble, really." Bombur's expression of curiosity was now far closer to awe, and he was staring at Bilbo as if he had just told him that the secret to immortality was eating chocolate cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

"Oh, come now, don't look at me like that. Go on and enjoy yourself. If you don't hurry up, I daresay there isn't going to be much left for you to enjoy, and then my efforts would have been wasted because one of you still managed to go hungry despite my preparations." Bombur's eyes immediately snapped back to the feast, and he raced forward to the table, trying to sample as much of every dish as he possibly could. Bilbo smiled. If there was one thing that Bombur could really enjoy, then it was good food. He would have made an excellent hobbit.

"Well, Bilbo, you seem to be getting along with the rest of the company quite amicably." Bilbo turned around to see Gandalf peering down at him. "Yes, well, they're quite a merry gathering." A hunk of blue cheese sailed through the air and smashed against the wall, inches away from where he and Gandalf were standing. "Once you get used to them." He leaned back, watching as Ori was forcefully trying to get Gloin to stop using one of Bilbo's story books as a coaster, while his brother Nori was trying to slip as much silverware and as many knick knacks into his pockets as was physically possible, and Bofur accidentally sloshed some ale onto his best Westfarthing croche. It really was good to see them all again.

"Well, my dear fellow, I certainly am glad to hear that you're getting along well with them. Soon enough I'm sure that you'll hear a description of exactly what sort of venture we are all making, but first there is one more dwarf who seems to be missing…" Thorin. Oh, dear seeing Thorin was going to be hard. But he was a Baggins, as well as a Took, and neither ever shied away from a challenge. Unless it was a reckless, adventurous challenge, in which case the Baggins side would simply quaver in fear and try desperately to hide behind the nearest cup of tea. He smiled. It was a good thing that his mother's blood ran strong in him. He was managing fine with Fili and Kili, and he would relish the chance to stand by Thorin's side once again.

Suddenly, a jolt ran through him. Fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Yavanna had said that another person may be coming back. One of Aulë's children. And so far all of the other members of the company he had seen had shown no sign of having any memories of him, so… damn. Well, then he would have to think something up. He honestly didn't know how Thorin would react to seeing him again, but it probably wouldn't be good. 'Well,' He thought to himself, 'Let it not be said that Bilbo Baggins cannot deal with mind-numbingly huge amounts of stress in the face of utter chaos.' He snorted. That hadn't always been true. He could still remember the lump on his head he had woken up with after reading a certain contract containing rather interesting terms of service clauses. Still, he was not the same hobbit he had been back then. He would figure this out. A wry grin crossed his face. He always did.