A/N Haha, it seems you guys liked the fact that I gave poor Bilbo a bit break with the dreams, but let me tell you it's not for long. I've received question regarding Bilbo's mental state and the effect the Ring has on him. While I won't actually disclose anything I will say that as I see the Ring it is somewhat sentient, therefore even if it doesn't give one damn about its current master ( we saw how easily it betrayed Isildur ) it won't jeopardize a chance to return to the Dark Lord and at the moment it needs Bilbo so it won't break him -yet. Ok, that's all, the rest you'll see when the company gets to Mirkwood. Just so you know I'm messing up the timeline a bit here, making Belladonna and Bungo die earlier than they did and moving the Fell Winter up a few years. Betaed by Wolveyaon ( thank you very much! )
Chapter X: In lodging… secrets
The second time Bilbo woke up it was already dusk and the ache of the day before seemed to have multiplied tenfold. He was surprised to see that the brothers had not left his side, nor had Ori. Through fluttering eyelids he noticed Kili, a few paces away, playing with the string of his bow, his brother by his side muttering something that had the youngest bark a laugh every now and then. Close by them stood Ori, yarn and knitting needles in hand - how in Eru's name had those escaped Goblin Town? -, creating something that looked like a misshaped sweater.
Bilbo tried to rise to his feet, but as soon as he made the slightest move, pain shot through him. With a gasp and a strangled yelp, he fell back, alerting the others to the fact that he had woken up.
"Bilbo!" Fili cried out and jumped to his feet, knocking his brother down in the process. "Thank Mahal you're awake!"
The blonde haired dwarf rushed to his side and gently helped Bilbo into a sitting position. The hobbit hissed in pain as the claw marks on his chest stretched with the movement and his ribs ached in protest.
"You gave us all quite a fright, Master Bilbo," a softer voice added and in the next moment Ori was also sitting next to him, a hand pressed on Bilbo's shoulder. "You nearly died, twice!" Bilbo almost flinched hearing the serious tone in Ori's voice. He had not wanted to mar the young dwarf's carefree disposition.
"I…" the hobbit tried to rebuff the accusation that he had almost died, but found that he couldn't. He remembered the shadow world as vividly as any part of his adventure and the ghost of his mother's whisper still echoed in his ears. "What happened?" he settled for asking instead.
"What is the last thing you remember?" Kili asked plopping himself at Bilbo's feet.
"Umm… trees burning," Bilbo frowned trying to remember the events of the previous day, "Me being a foot cushion for a white warg, the eagles and …"
Suddenly the hobbit paled, then blushed and with a groan hid his face in his hands. The brothers gazed at each other with curiosity before remembering what exactly had happened after the eagles and how their sweet, soft-spoken Bilbo verbally tore Thorin to shreds for attacking Azog like he did.
"Please tell me that did not happen, that I've been imagining it?" Bilbo mumbled in his hands.
"What, my dear hobbit…" Fili started.
"You calling our dear uncle, how was it brother?" Kili added.
"I believe the exact phrasing was 'a stubborn, maddening DWARF'."
Both of them broke out in laughter seeing Bilbo's dismayed look. Even Ori had trouble hiding the smile that broke on his face.
"That's enough you two," a deep voice grumbled and Thorin appeared next to his nephews. "You've made enough fun of our injured hobbit. Go and fill those waterskins, Oin will be needing them. Take Ori as well."
Before leaving to do as Thorin bided, Kili leaned down and hugged Bilbo gently, careful not to injure him further, then jumped to his feet and followed his brother, leaving a bewildered hobbit behind. The questioning glance Bilbo threw was ignored by Thorin who sat next to the hobbit. The winch of the dwarf king did not go unnoticed…
"Did you get your wounds tended to?" Bilbo asked knowing full well that Thorin may have chosen to disregard them altogether.
"They were mere scratches and bruises. Painful, but not life threatening… Your situation was much more dire than mine, Bilbo. My nephews and Ori were not lying when they said you were on the threshold. Gandalf barely brought you back the first time."
"I know," Bilbo admitted, his eyes clouding over with sorrow. "I heard my mother. She was the one who sent me back."
The dark look that settled over Thorin's eyes was enough to tell anyone that he was not at all comfortable to find out how close his burglar had been to dying – and since when is Bilbo, his, he wondered -, but he refrained from pushing the matter.
"Gandalf said there was magic in your body," the dwarf king remarked and in the dying light of the day he noticed how quickly Bilbo stiffened. "He said it was dark magic, very old dark magic, almost familiar to him and yet not so. He could not understand how a hobbit could have been subjected to magic. Bilbo," Thorin asked in a stern, yet gentle voice and brought two fingers under the hobbit's chin, making Bilbo face him, rather than look at the rocks at his feet. "What happened in the mountain?"
"I managed to escape the goblins and tried to follow you, but a straggler got to me first," Bilbo tried recalling the event. "We fell… there was an underwater cave there and a creature. It called itself Gollum, but once it was one of the river folk. His name was Smeagol then, I think?"
The confusion in Bilbo's eyes was enough to tell Thorin that even had he asked, the hobbit would have been unable to tell him why and how he knew all that.
"I think he lived there alone a very long time… he was broken by the time I met him. Even time seemed to cease to exist there."
Bilbo's story was disjointed as if someone else was trying to remember it and tell it to him through a filter. He told of his riddle game with Gollum and the awful frost that had settled into his veins, but kept silent about the Ring. The hum from his pocket had subsided, but the whispers still lingered at the edge of his consciousness, telling him that he could not trust anyone with the Ring yet no matter how much he wanted to.
As Bilbo talked, the others started returning from wherever they had been. Fili and Kili plopped themselves at Bilbo's other side, not letting him out of sight, while Ori started knitting a few paces away. Bofur remained standing next to a boulder, while his brother and cousin made a fire in order to prepare supper, helped by Dori and Nori who held several rabbits – hunted most likely by the eagles. Oin grumbled about needing to check Bilbo's bandages, while his brother whispered something in his ear in order to calm him down. Even Gandalf had made an appearance and listened to the tale with carefully veiled curiosity.
"I saw things in that cave," Bilbo admitted with a soft shudder, "things I was not supposed to see. These dreams I've had were always in some way or another connected to all of you, except for one that I had a long time ago and ignore. I noticed in Rivendell that no matter what I dreamed, may it be the past or the paths winding at my feet, they were always about you. But there in that cave I saw things that I know I should not have seen. There was a battle before a great, dark tower… and fire inside a mountain… a dead King and a dead Elf Lord and so much pain…" Bilbo's eyes glazed over and only the hand Thorin placed on his shoulder was able to root him into place and keep him from going down that dark path.
"You saw the Last Alliance?" Thorin asked cautiously, noticing that Bilbo had Seen and not Dreamed in the cave. "The battle of Dagorland?
The name rang hallow in Bilbo's ears, despite the many maps and books he had read. With a confused look he asked for explanation.
"The Last Alliance formed at the end of the Second Age in order to fight against Sauron. The final battle took place on the Dagorland plains where the army of the Enemy was annihilated and his Ring taken by Isildur. However, casualties were heavy on both parts. Elendil the King of Gondor fell in battle, alongside Gil-Galad the High King of the Elves and many of their kind. Also many dwarves of Durin's line perished in that battle," Balin interfered.
"What Ring?" Bilbo asked and Thorin found it curious that of all the questions the hobbit could have asked this one had been at the front of his mind. The elder dwarf of the Company once more answered the hobbit's question.
"During the second age Sauron came to the elves of Eregion under a disguise and helped them forge the Rings of Power. Celebrimbor forged three for the elves that were untainted by the hand of Sauron. Seven were created for the dwarves and given to the Seven Dwarf Lords and Nine were gifted to Kings of Men. However, in secret, Sauron created the One Ring with the power to control all the others. It is this Ring that Isildur cut from Sauron's hand during the battle of Dagorland and later was lost when the King of Gondor was felled by orcs while trying to escape them by crossing the Anduin swimming."
Bilbo paled and his hand moved out of its own accord to the pocket of his waistcoat where a simple, golden Ring laid hidden. If it was… no, it couldn't be! How would it even come into Gollum's possession? But Smeagol was of the River folk and Isildur died in the Anduin… With a small gasp, Bilbo's eyes clouded…
A contingent of men rode down a path winding alongside the Great River. They laughed and joked, sure of the fact that no harm would befall them. With them rode the King of Gondor, a golden ring hanging at his neck. From time to time the ring would be touched as if the King wanted to reassure himself it was there. Suddenly shrieks of orcs echoed in the air…
Bilbo wretched himself from the vision and gave a shaky breath. He noticed his hand was exactly over the golden Ring, only the fabric of the waistcoat separating them. With a jerk he moved his hand away and glared at his surroundings.
Thorin had been aware of every move made by the hobbit. He saw the way his hand lingered over the pocket; the dwarf king wondered what exactly the hobbit was hiding and whether there was more to the tale than he had been told. However, another matter was pressing on his mind and he wanted to find the answer.
"You knew that Azog was still alive," his voice was colder and held a hint of accusation in it. He instantly regretted it when he saw Bilbo flinch and noticed the sorrow that reappeared in his eyes, but held his ground.
"Yes," Bilbo held his head high, but gave no other answer.
"Yet you told us nothing! Why? We could have prepared!"
"Prepared for what?" Bilbo gave a dry laugh, humorless and cold. "I wish I would have been as useful as that, but my dreams do not tell me when and where something might happen. The more paths I see, the more choices I am presented with and making a choice means assuming it no matter where it takes you. There is no telling what might happen when you call upon a choice before it has to be made…" Bilbo sighed in pain and closed his eyes. "Sometimes it ends in pain even if you do not believe in it. I cannot risk it!"
"Bilbo…" Bofur said softly, reaching for his friend and grasping his arm with a tight squeeze. No other words were needed between them, because all members of the Company knew what Bofur had tried to say for them… 'You are not alone, you have us!'
Howls echoed in the night in that exact moment, howls of wolves not wargs and whereas Thorin and the others relaxed their stances knowing that it was not their enemies pursuing them, Bilbo's body tensed and shivered.
"You face wargs, yet fear wolves?" Fili asked curiously, trying to steer the conversation from the matter of Azog that still hung over all of them like a shadow. The anguished look on Bilbo's face, however, surprised him.
"I fear what they bring…Memories of cold, pain and death. My parents died during the Fell Winter …"
The dream had come to him sporadically ever since he had become a tween. He dreamed of snow falling over the Shire and of hobbits huddled together for warmth inside their houses. He dreamed of blizzards strong enough to knock down trees and wolves prowling in the darkness. He dreamed all that, but believed nothing, not even when the first snow fell and the Brandywine Bridge froze over. He did not believe when his soul told him to stay inside, instead of venturing out in the cold to meet with cousin Paladin. He did not believe and he lost what he treasured most because of it.
The wolves came when dusk fell, while he was still outside, not far from Bag End, but far enough to reach shelter. Howls rang in the air and his blood froze in his veins when he saw eyes glittering in the darkness, hunger etched in their eyes. There was no stick, no stone close to him and had it been it would have been futile. He tried running, but made only a few steps before the surrounded him, white as the snow they stepped on, with glistering fans and hungry gazes.
He knew he would die and felt scared, yet nothing was more frightening for him than seeing his mother and father rushing out of Bag End, throwing precious pieces of china at the wolves and banging pots to scare them away. More hobbits rushed outside their houses, armed to fight the beasts that had tried to claim their land.
Bilbo felt hope surge in his soul… but the winter was merciless and the wolves hungry. Not all returned home that night and many more perished the days that followed.
"My parents were both bitten by mad wolves during the Fell Winter," Bilbo admitted, not adding the silent 'In order to protect me,' that hung over his soul even after so many years. "The wounds were not fatal, but they were stricken by fever and died not even a mere fortnight later, because I did not know to stay put, believe and make the right choice."
The bitterness that rang in Bilbo's tone was enough to quell any questions, even those Gandalf may have had. The howls continued ringing in the night and in Bilbo's soul, remembrance of a past yet unforgotten.
They remained at Carrock for two more days, until all were well enough to be able to travel. Gandalf had promised them lodging in a friend's home nearby where they would receive food and new travel packs, yet the spirit of the Company was still down. Since the admission that had startled even him during the first night on Carrock, Bilbo had shielded away from all members of the Company. He spoke only when spoken to and even then it was only a couple of words. Fili and Kili were upset by the realization that their hobbit was pulling away, yet they still trailed him wherever he went and made sure he did not upset his wounds.
Thorin also kept away, mulling over what Bilbo had told them and over what he merely glossed over. The dwarf king knew that something else had been at work in that cave apart from the creature Gollum, but could not figure out what. Why had Bilbo been so interested in the Rings of Power? And what did he mean about that expression about time?
"Even time seemed to cease to exist there."
There was a connection there, one that was tied closely to the riddle the creature Gollum had uttered. Why did time mean so much in that place? A short laugh startled him out of his musings and he glanced at his Company to see Bofur telling some sort of ridiculous tale accompanied by hand signs. What amazed him most was that Bilbo was also laughing and smiling along with the others. It was good to see him back in his usual spirits, although Thorin could not tell why.
"We are getting near," said Gandalf. "We are on the edge of his bee-pastures." After a while they came to a belt of tall and very ancient oaks, and beyond these to a high thorn-hedge through which you could neither see nor scramble. "You had better wait here," said the wizard to the dwarves; "and when I call or whistle begin to come after me - you will see the way I go-but only in pairs, mind, about five minutes between each pair of you. Bombur is fattest and will do for two, he had better come alone and last. Come on Mr. Baggins! There is a gate somewhere round this way." And with that he went off along the hedge taking the frightened hobbit with him.
What happened next would make Bilbo wonder whether Gandalf would be able to charm the dragon himself if he put his mind to it. Gandalf's friend turned out to be a skin-changer called Beorn who liked neither strangers nor a large company in his house. Yet, as Gandalf started spinning their tale and the dwarves entered in pairs five minutes apart, Beorn was so engrossed in their story that he did not bid them leave. Instead he listened, made occasional comments and from time to time glanced at Bilbo as if he were an oversized rabbit meant to be cuddled. The fact did not go unnoticed by Fili and Kili who moved as guardians at Bilbo's side and looked frighteningly serious every time the skin-changer glanced in their direction.
By the time Gandalf had finished his story, Beorn was in high spirits and allowed them to remain in his house.
"A very good tale!" said he. "The best I have heard for a long while. If all beggars could tell such a good one, they might find me kinder. You may be making it all up, of course, but you deserve a supper for the story all the same. Let's have something to eat!"
As the sun set over Beorn's house, all of them lay content and with full stomachs. Their host had prepared soft mattresses for them to sleep on and had afterward left, warning them not to leave the house during the night. Bilbo felt the fatigue and ache of the previous days catch up to him and he curled on the smallest mattress and huddled himself under the woolen blankest. He was not surprised when he saw the youngest members of his company huddle close to him, as had become their custom the last days ever since they had almost lost him, nor did he blink an eye when Bofur grinned at him and moved closer as well. It appeared that despite the courage he had shown facing Azog – and living to tell the tale – the dwarves were more determined than ever to protect him – even in the queer, but safe lodgings they now had.
A/N I feel this chapter is a bit disjointed, but I changed my mind many times about it and it ended up angstier than I wanted it to be. I also think that despite the fact that Bilbo was a curious hobbit and had read many books, some facts may had escaped him like the Battle of Dagorland for example. In the Lord of the Rings we know that he became fascinated by the history of Middle Earth mostly after he returned from the quest ( if I remember correctly, I may be wrong ). Hope you enjoyed this chapter and looking forward to hearing your thoughts. The two paragraphs in italics are from The Hobbit, Chapter VII: Queer Lodgins.