She closes her door after settling the dwarves down where she could fit them, and leans heavily on her bedroom door.

She had reworked the Contract a bit with Balin, and earned a bit of respect for it from him, she thought, and she had not fainted this time so they could not hold that over her head at least.

But still...now that she is hidden behind her door and the thick walls of her room, Hawthorn lets her face crumble.

Oh, oh but her sun, her moon and stars and the water of her life lives. All of them. Her beloved family, her Gairdín. It lived and grew and breathed again. She had seen it wither. Watched it die sections at a time, and infect the still living parts with the loss of the others. She refused to see it again.

She wouldn't survive it. That sort of loss a second time. She knew herself, and to lose the Line of Durin again would shatter her beyond healing. Just seeing them, standing there…

Seeing the Company of Thorin Oakenshield whole and breathing-

It was agony and joy, happiness and rage, laughter and sadness rolled into one giant mess of emotions.

She had no idea how to handle any of them. It had been a struggle to make it through dinner. A struggle she had no idea how she had pulled through.

How was she supposed to make it through the rest of the journey if she barely made it a few hours without wanting to cry?

And yet-

And yet...she had laughed in those few hours and meant it. She had smiled, warm and joyous, in a way she hadn't since the Battle of Five Armies. Even as her heart had bled, it had healed in their presence. And she would not leave them.

She cried, hard and silent on the floor, her back pressed to the door. She'd have to get it out of her system now, because this journey of hers demanded the best from her. If she wanted to ensure the Line of Durin could rule their Kingdom properly she'd have to be in top form.


That next morning went much different then Bilbo remembered the first first time. To begin with- she was up before the rest of the Company. She had a breakfast to prepare, and they would all be going to visit the Thain, her Grandfather, for Frerin. It was old habit now that had her feet soundless as she walked past the doors leading to the dwarves rooms. She was almost as quiet as she whirled through the kitchen, pulling pre prepared dishes out to heat, while making even more.

She was thankful she had arranged everything with her Grandfather and family that day she had told Grandpapa about being from the future. Her Took relations knew to address her as 'Bilbo' and were expecting the entire Company to drop by after breakfast. She was thankful the little ones knew the Rules about Adventures when it came to females of their House.

Generally, all females of the House of Took would dress and act a male when going far distances with unknown people. It was safer, when Hobbits were so much smaller than Big Folk. They would know to call her 'Bilbo' when- not if, but when- they saw her.

She smiled to herself a little. She quite looked forward to seeing the Company with fauntlings, even if the reason they were going to her Grandfather's was a sad one. She wondered who would handle the little ones best of the group absently as she flicked her wrist effortlessly to flip the pancake even as the other hand seasoned the eggs in another pan.

She hummed absently, her ears open to the sounds of her home, waiting patiently. She knew the scents of food would summon the others even as she began to lay out the plates on her table.

Dwalin was, of course, the first to enter her domain, pausing in the frame of the door as Bilbo absently whirled in front of him to press a hot plate of pumpkin pancakes into his hands.

"Here you are Master Dwalin," Hawthorn said before quickly turning back to her stove.

She knew better than to draw attention to the fact she had make those pancakes specifically for the dwarf and instead carrying on as if nothing was unusual about this.

"I'm not quite finished in here, but please, enjoy the food laid out for breakfast before we leave!"

There was a moment of silence, and she could see the flicker of thought in Dwalin's eyes before he asked, "Can I help with anything?"

Bilbo smiled up at the warrior, pleased to have made a good impression much sooner than she had Before.

"I'm afraid most of the cooking is done, so it's just heating several dishes before I serve them, but if you would like to help bring some of the plates to the table, I would welcome the extra hands.!"

Thankfully, every Hobbit Hole had quite large kitchens, and Bag End especially. It was so large in fact, that most often when special occasions took place Bilbo saw no harm in opening it for use to her neighbors. It was part of the reason Bilbo's relatives seemed to think Bag End was too big for a lass who showed no signs of wanting to marry. She would not hand the home her father had built for her mother to anyone but her cousins however. She hoped they would fill the halls with laughter and the small patter of feet on wooden floors where she had not. She knew they would appreciate the magnitude of the gift she offered them if everything worked out as she hoped.

(There would always be the whispers of the tragedy of Belladonna Took and Bungo Baggins, who were expected to have many children, but, in the end, Hawthorn was their only child )

Bilbo cared not, however, as she simply handed some of the larger, heavier plates to Dwalin and carried more behind him. Fili and Kili sat at her table, grinning up at her even as Kili held up his hands and called out cheerfully, "I remembered Mr. Boggins! My hands are clean as could be this time."

She huffed through her nose, lips tugging upward at the edges even as she called sternly, "Baggins, Master Kili, or perhaps I shall simply confuse your name myself!"

The humor in her voice took any sting out of her words and Kili responded as she knew he would: with smiles and bright laughter.

The dwarves slowly trickled back into her kitchen, and she noticed immediately that Nori had 'helped' himself to some of her silver as he came through the door to her kitchen. It wasn't anything obvious of course, but Nori had been the one to train her in the art of thieving. It had been an attempt to help her after everything, before she left Dale to come back home. He'd jokingly told her that if she could 'rob a dragon' she'd best learn to steal properly, especially with a title like 'Expert Burglar.'

The legendary burglar who stole from Smaug himself, Nori had exclaimed with a sly grin, the Hobbit lass who cannot even properly pick a pocket? You'd die of the shame, lass!

She'd taken him up on it in an attempt to distract herself from the reality of her situation, pouring her entire focus into Nori's lessons. He'd been teaching her on the quest itself of course, playing games and such to help her improve, but this had been a more focused set of lessons. The Company themselves had allowed her to test her skills on them, and so she was rather good at it by the time she left. She'd been almost as proud as Nori himself when she managed to take Dwalin's coin purse without his notice.

She set the food down and light and sneaky as any Hobbit, she carefully slipped her own silver out of Nori's pockets and into her own. She'd only managed to take things from Nori back in the Before without his notice two or three times, but he didn't notice when she reclaimed her silverware this time. She figured it was because he didn't expect it of her at all.

Silly dwarf. They were here because Gandalf said a burglar was required and the dwarven thief of the Company wasn't even on guard. Hawthorn decided she was grievously offended and resolved to gloat about this feat later.

She understood the advantages of coming when unexpected- Balin had been very thorough when he showed her how to look at her surroundings and pick out things about their inhabitants. Looking at Bag End as it was now, she would come across as a spoiled and soft hobbit, no matter that it was not true.

Her belongings and the layout painted her as a Lord who had not suffered a day in his life. The Shire itself did not help the image, with all the plump and soft looking Hobbits around her, with the plentiful foods and rolling green hills. The supposed lack of warriors when they looked around themselves, and the openness of the layout itself.

(They had never seen the Shire roused to fight as she had in the Fell Winter. They had never seen how the 'openness' of the Shire with its trees and plants, with the bushes and paths were the playground of Hobbits. Never seen how Hobbits could disappear, silent and deadly where they chose into those plants. They were a soft people compared to others, but this did not make them weak)

She knew they would notice the signs around her of the warrior she was now- the weapons throughout the home, the traveling gear well worn and cared for despite the new pack, the scars on her arms and her thinner frame when compared to others of her kind. It was at complete odds with the delicate lace doilies and quality clothes that were not made to take wear and tear.

They would not know what to make of these mixed signals, but still. Nori was very good at what he did-and why wouldn't he be when it was his thieving skills, his natural spymaster tendencies that had kept his brother and sister alive in hard times-and while he had no true reason to expect Bilbo to be able to take her things back from him without notice, that he was so sure of this fact he was not even a little on guard as he must have been for her to succeed...

She would never ever let him live this down.

She almost wanted to laugh as she slid the last spoon into her own pocket without breaking stride, slipping plates in front of dwarrow as they filed into her kitchen. It was reminiscent of the games she had played with Nori before on the quest, where they would compete to steal things off the others and swap them around.

She very carefully did not make any special movements or motions as she settled buttermilk pancakes topped with the honey roasted peaches Thorin had guarded zealously from reaching hands the night before in front of him. She had forgone the syrups for his plate and instead drizzled the whole thing with more honey.

She knew he'd be silently thrilled about it anyway.

She was going to have a horrible time not spoiling the Company where she could get away with it, she knew. She'd seen them suffer too often, had suffered beside them, and seen them die to not do so where she could.

This time she was going with all her packets of herbs and spices and her bow so she would be able to cook much better meals than travel rations. She would also not hesitate to stop to pick things for the dinner pot as well as her healing herbs on their way as she did last time.

Kili would be thrilled to have another archer in the Company too, as it was such an 'elven' thing to use not many dwarves were able to shoot at all. She wondered absently if he'd like to practice with her, so she could adjust to his style and compliment him in the battlefield. She'd never-

Well, by the time she had learned archery properly from Tauriel, Kili had already- Kili was gone and she had never been able to share in the art with him. It had become her own way of remembering him in the Before. That she would have the chance to play a game of arrows with the little prince was a joy, even as it hurt to remember what had never had the chance to be.

She smirked lightly to herself as she pondered some of the elven exercises she could try with him to improve his bowmanship. Kili was self taught as most of the archers of Erebor had perished in Smaug's initial attack, and he would certainly benefit from instruction no matter how well he had done with no one to help him. It had been an adventure for her to be certain, and she would enjoy being able to complain about the exercises with someone that understood her even if she was to be his teacher in them.


Bilbo straightened herself out after she had finished cleaning the mess from breakfast. Ori was a darling, and had helped her by drying as Bilbo washed. She'd tried to tell Ori not to worry about it, but the dwarrowdam had refused to hear of not helping after two such filling meals. Especially as they had left her to the dinner dishes the night before.

They ended up having an entirely pleasant conversation on the various methods of making ink and how they looked on the different kinds of parchment and vellum. They discussed quill types, and the pros and cons of using colored ink versus a solid black. Hawthorn was delighted at the happy light in Ori's eyes as she gushed about a dwarven ink that incorporated gold flakes into the mixing process and lasted for centuries looking as if it had just dried.

Bilbo hadn't even thought to ask the company for help with them, partly because she remembered the last time they had her dishes in hand, tossing them back and forth and singing at the top of their lungs, and partly because she hadn't wanted to bother them with it after such a long time traveling on the road. She'd settled with thanking Ori when it became obvious she wouldn't be swayed from her choice, and settled to enjoy the scribe's company instead.

She'd rebraided her hair, checked on the rest of her silver and valuables before she made sure to catch Nori's eyes. When he was looking right at her, she very deliberately reached into her own pockets and put all the silverware he had taken back into their proper places with a subtle smirk.

She had the absolute pleasure of watching his face blank out for a moment, before his eyes widened the slightest of margins, and he subtly checked his own pockets for her missing spoons. She nearly laughed aloud as he discovered he no longer had them.

She lifted an eyebrow at him instead, and his spine straightened under her gaze as he lifted an acknowledging eyebrow back, the light of challenge in his eyes. Oh, she knew that look. It appeared their game would begin much earlier on this road then the last.

Not yet, though. Not yet, when she was to take them to her Grandfather, and the grave of one of their own.

She grabbed her pack on the way out the door, strapping Sting into place, staring hard at the shield she had picked up. Part of her wanted to take it, but she had no real experience with the thing. On top of that, her agility and speed were her best skills, so to take it would slow her down. It would be more of an issue than an asset to her in this case, where she would need every advantage she could have.

She would leave it. Her hands were gentle over the shield as she lifted it from its place against the wall and turned towards the mantle. She jerked, the shield slipping from her hands as she came face to face with Thorin standing just behind her.

She jerked her feet back, barely missing the shield landing on her toes, and gasped in surprise at his unexpected appearance.

"Master Oakenshield?"

She inwardly cursed at the breathless, feminine quality to her voice, and prayed her reaction would be overlooked. She had heard Kili's voice go very high during the quest and surely the dwarrow would think nothing of her more female mannerisms.

He was staring at her, and although the suspicion and wariness had virtually vanished, his eyes still narrowed as he looked at her. It was- softer though. As if he was merely curious as he looked over her and then to the shield at her feet. There was surprise in his expression before that eased.

"It is a dwarven made shield," Thorin said, his voice rumbled over the room, and Bilbo nodded once in agreement, not trusting her voice in that moment. "Was it Frerin's?"

She took a breath, blinking at him at the way his voice lightened at his brother's name.

"No," she shook her head, a swift denial, "it was something I picked up in the middle of an orc attack in the ruins of some city of Man I was traveling through."

She bent to retrieve the shield and lifted it again, meeting his eyes and struggling not to remember them as she'd last seen them, blue glazed and faded of life against a backdrop of bloodied snow.

"It saved my life, and the life of my friend. When the battle was over, I could not leave it there, in the ruins after that. I brought it home with me, even though I was not sure how to take care of it. It seemed wrong, somehow, to leave this in ruins after it had done me such a great service."

She closed her mouth with a sharp click, reminding herself to breathe.

Thorin was still staring at her, with that puzzling look in his face and she could feel her heartbeat speeding up before his gaze finally dropped. He lifted his hand to wave it at the shield in her arms.

"How did you manage to clean it?"

Dear Yavanna, why is Thorin initiating casual conversation?

"Oh! Well-" Bilbo cleared her throat, mentally commanding herself not to fidget, "I used a spatula to scrape off most of the dirt, moss and bits of blood and flesh. Vinegar for the metals, which work much better than I had originally hoped."

Why did I tell him about the bits of blood and flesh?!

Hawthorn inwardly wailed in mortification.

Thankfully, Thorin's only visible reaction was a minute raise of a brow. He then nodded his head and gestured vaguely towards the shield.

"May I?"

Bilbo stared uncomprehendingly at the Dwarven King for a moment before she started.

"Oh, yes! Of course, it belonged to your people first!"

She thrust out the shield and Thorin took it from her carefully, spinning it over in his hands, then tracing the lines of metal embedded in the wood. The lines around his eyes and mouth deepened and blue eyes darkened in sorrow.

"It is a Longbeard shield. One of my Clan," he said quietly as calloused fingers followed the flow of metal in the wood.

"Oh," Hawthorn breathed in surprise and dismay, "I didn't- I meant no disrespect, Master Oakenshield, I can return it if-"

"No, Master Baggins, that is not necessary," Thorin interrupted, surprisingly gracious and understanding considering his more familiar rage about the belongings of his people in any other hands save dwarrow.

Her breath hitched in a sudden surge of emotion because this- this was trust Thorin was giving so easily to her. A part of her was honestly and genuinely touched, but another screamed in fury because how dare he, after all she did in the Before, everything she sacrificed it took months for him to show even half this level of regard. And yet now she had somehow earned it with a single night?

Oh, oh but she was furious, and touched, and she wanted to rage at him, scream all her whys and how could you, I trusted you, all the demands for explanations and reassurances she would not betray this trust, but-

But she couldn't. Not when she remembered the madness that had haunted his eyes in the last days she had seen him, and then the death that had followed that. Not when she loved this stubborn, stupid, loyal fool of of a King. She couldn't- she could not bring her anger to bare when he looked at her like that, with his eyes warm in the way they had been when he first started to trust her.

She pulled in a shaking breath, and instead, she lowered her eyes to the shield cradled gently in his hands

"I- Master Oakenshield, if you would like to take it with you, I would be thankful. I am a fighter that relies on speed and agility more than brute force and strength. I would rather this saw use instead of decorating my mantle. Seeing as it is a shield of your House- er Clan, is it were, I think it would be fitting for you to have it."

She paused, and softly, but utterly certain, she continued more quietly, "And I think I would like to see something of your family returned to your Kingdom. It seems fitting to me."

Ah, Yavanna bless it.

Thorin looked like she'd just bashed him over the head and simultaneously told him the dragon was dead. His eyes were wide and his mouth was gaping open and Hawthorn winced and unconsciously shuffled back a few steps.

She whirled away from those eyes of his, striding from her living room and towards her front door. She paused when, as she cleared the doorframe and headed for the exit, she came across Dwalin, Balin, and Nori standing in her path. They were watching her with considering eyes. Eyes that warmed as they looked at her, and over her shoulder towards Thorin.

There was a blooming flower of respect beginning to take root in their eyes, and she was very nearly overwhelmed. She didn't understand why.

What had she done that saw that respect given to her so much earlier than the Before?

She knew she had made quite a different impression this time around, but so different that they would look at her like that when it took her near death multiple times before she had seen a hint of the same last time?

What-

Why-

She shoved her turbulent emotions to the side, and straightened her spine, her shoulders falling back as her head lifted. She could deal with those emotions later.

"We have an adventure to embark on gentlemen, and I would hate to upset my Grandfather's schedule. Shall we go?"

The dwarrow in front of her stepped to the side, and she breezed past, shifting her pack just to have something to do with her hands. They had the ponies needed waiting outside, as Bilbo had seen that taken care of in the days before the Company arrived. Hamfast had delivered them to her this morning. Once the dwarrow had passed, she locked her door behind them, carefully not looking at any of them.

She usually wouldn't have bothered with the lock, as most Hobbits would never dream to enter a home uninvited, but she had had more time to think on her decision this time. It was not a rush out the door and dart down the hills. She knew some of her relatives wanted Bag End from her, and she would ensure that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins at the very least was barred from entering without the keys. Keys that would go to Dogo and Prim.

She easily approached the pony that had carried her the last time she'd gone out her door. She much prefered to walk, even now, her feet connected to the Green Lady's lands, but she was much better now than she had been the first time. Her hands were gentle as she ran her palm over Myrtle's velvety nose.

"Hey there, girl."

Her voice was just as gentle as she pulled her pack from her back and settled everything in its proper place before she swung herself up into the saddle. She blinked as she realized she was being watched, and quickly pulled her eyes to the front as she noticed Thorin had taken the shield with him.

She waited as the dwarrow and dwarrowdam pulled themselves into place, Gandalf already waiting for them at the end of the Row. Once everyone had been settled on their mounts, their attention naturally swung to her so she took the lead calling,

"Grandfather's is this way."

She wondered absently if the dwarves realized exactly how many more Hobbits there were, then the few dozen they were seeing today. That she was with them (The Baggins of Bag End) gave them a bit of credibility, trust so to speak, and so less were prone to hiding from their view. Bounders still tracked them across the Shire, but nowhere near as many as the night before (The Thain's favorite Granddaughter trusted them enough to ride with them, and lead them to her Grandfather, they had an appointment didn't you know?).

Even accounting for the fact that they had arrived rather late in the day, it was supper time and many fauntlings would have been playing in yards as they waited for dinner to finish up, while other adults would have been chatting to neighbors through windows, or on porches.

Thorin, having arrived later than all the others, was truly the only dwarrow that really had any excuse to not see any Hobbit. No self-respecting Hobbit would miss Supper after all, but even still he had been stalked by three Bounders that she could spot from her door alone.

She would hold this over their heads forever, once this mess was over, if she survived this second attempt at the impossible.