A/N Thank you for your reviews! I hope to be able to resume my quicker updating pace; I've been at the countryside and I one thing or another kept distracting me. I'm also thinking of writing a modern!AU, but I can't come up with any ideas. Any prompts? If you guys have prompts for me I'll simply gather them in a series of oneshots and short stories. Till then enjoy and let me know what you think!
Warnings: Will have mentions of war, blood, gore, injuries, character death etc. There will be movie and book spoilers as well. This is going to be non graphic Thorin/Bilbo slash so if these things bother you, try my other story Only time will tell which features close friendship instead.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything ( except the wolf ). I'm merely borrowing the characters to play with them.
Chapter X: Comfort is a rare blessing on the road
The cold water of the river was soothing on his bruised back and stiff limbs. Once the rush of adrenaline had passed, all his bruises and cuts started making themselves known. With the Great River mere paces from them, all members of the Company had used the opportunity for a bath. Bilbo had retired to a more secluded spot – "I am a respectable hobbit and we do not bathe with company thank you very much", Bilbo had spluttered when Fili and Kili had asked him to join them, much to the amusement of the entire Company – and allowed the icy cold water to wash over his battered body. On the rocks nearby, Cypress was watching her Master, her keen eyes vigilant for any signs of danger.
Bilbo sighed as he glazed in the crystal waters of the river and tended to his bath. It was perhaps the last decent bath he would be able to take for a while, therefore the hobbit made sure to scrub his body of dried dirt and blood until it left his skin raw.
The image that shone in the waters of the river almost made him wonder who he really was and what happened to the gentlehobbit of two decades ago. His eyes were dark, tainted by loss and death. However, the guilt in them had been tempered by the thirst for adventure and the drive to see the quest to an end. His body had lost all the fat Hobbits favored – "You couldn't look more unhobbitish even if you tried," Lobelia had scorned him, though her words lacked their usual venom – and was littered with dark bruises and old scars, remnants of the Goblin Caves and the Fell Winter. He knew that were he to look closer, he would also see the signs of his first encounter with the white warg: a faint scar near his left temple and claw marks on his right arm.
He shivered as the wind picked up and added to the cold around him when he left the waters of the river. His spare clothes had been lost in the caves so he had to make do with things borrowed from the dwarves: a much too large tunic from Bofur and a warm, knit cloak with a hood from Ori. Thankfully his pants were still usable ( his vest was well beyond repair, unfortunately ). After dressing himself and glancing once more in the waters of the river, Bilbo allowed a small smile to flutter on his lips. He looked quite like Bullroarer Took. For the first time since the winter, he allowed himself to think that his mother would be proud of him ( and his Baggins relatives would be even more scandalized ). He chuckled and beamed at Cypress.
"Well girl, it seems old Bullroarer has competition," the hobbit laughed and petted the wolf's fur. "He got to fight goblins and invent golf. We're off to steal from a dragon."
He scratched the wolf between the ears and down her neck. Just as he was about to stumble over the string necklace and the ring – that could not be seen under Cypress' fur – a voice called.
"All ready, Bilbo?" Bofur grinned, approaching the hobbit.
"Yes. Are we to be on our way?"
"Aye! Gandalf said if we make haste we can reach the house of his friend in two days time. Thorin called everyone back to Carrock to get our packs and be on our way."
The two returned to the rock plateau followed by Cypress. None noticed the way the wolves' eyes had narrowed, almost imperceptibly when Bilbo's fingers had almost brushed against the string necklace. Nor did they see the tension in her posture and or heard the soft growl that hummed in her chest. There was something telling her the gift from the small child was hers and hers alone. No one had the right to touch it or take it... not even her Master. A tint of madness lurked deep in her silver eyes.
After the Stone Giants, Bilbo had been sure nothing could surprise him anymore. After all, what could possibly be harder to imagine? He decided he had been very, very wrong. Upon arriving at the edge of Beorn's bee pastures, the Company had stumbled across what had to be the biggest bees in Middle Earth. The hobbit tried to stay as far away from them as possible.
"I imagine, if they sting me, I would swell up to double my size," Bilbo grumbled as he walked as far away from the bees as possible.
"We are getting close," Gandalf revealed. "This is the edge of his bee pastures," the wizard then proceeded to tell them more about their future host ( who was a skin-changer of all things ) and his amazing animals ( who could apparently talk ) until they came to a tall hedge with a door in it.
"I shall go first," the wizard said. "Bilbo and Cypress will come with me. Then I shall whistle for you and you shall each come in pairs of two."
Behind the gate they were able to see gardens and many wooden buildings. It appeared that Beorn had everything: barns, stables, sheds, and a long, low wooden house. A pair of bay horses spotted them and gazed at the intruders with intelligent faces. Moments later, they trotted towards the house, presumably to call their master.
They soon came to a courtyard. A large man, much larger than any Bilbo had seen in his life, was leaning on an axe and glaring at them. He had thick black hair and beard. His eyes held something dangerous in them, the warning of the wild.
"Good morning," Gandalf hailed and proceeded to explain their situation, not once mentioning there was a company waiting at the hedge.
"I may give you aid or may not depending on your story," Beorn gazed at Bilbo with thinly veiled curiosity. He noticed the shift in Cypress' position, the way she moved forward to shield her master and the way the hobbit placed a reassuring hand on the wolf's back.
"What about you, little fellow? Where is your place in this story? You do not look like someone who ought to roam the wild."
"My name is Bilbo Baggins," said Bilbo, in a clear voice, despite the anxiety he felt in the presence of the mountain of a man "And I am a hobbit of the Shire."
"A hobbit?" Beorn frowned in surprise. "What is a hobbit doing east of the Misty Mountains? And since when do hobbits keep wolves around their homes?"
"Cypress is my companion," Bilbo stated calmly. Beorn threw one last look at the wolf, his brows furrowing as if finding something wrong with her. Then, he turned his back and beckoned them inside.
"Come, tell me this story of yours from beginning to end."
What happened next would make Bilbo wonder whether Gandalf would be able to charm the dragon himself if he put his mind to it. It was one thing to be a good storyteller and another to be as cunning as the wizard and manage to secure shelter for thirteen dwarves, one hobbit and one wolf. 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. He listened, making comments now and then, and often glancing at Cypress as if she was a puzzle waiting to be deciphered.
By the time Gandalf had finished his story, Beorn was in high spirits and allowed them to remain in his house.
The next day dawned brightly, yet Bilbo preferred to cuddle under his woolen blankets and sleep almost till noon. The dwarves cast him indulgent glances and allowed him this moment of respite. Even Cypress who was usually up at the crack of dawn, slept longer, glad to feel safe for the first time since Rivendell.
When he finally woke up, Bilbo discovered with dismay that almost all the food was gone. The dwarves had apparently embraced hobbit customs and during their stay at Beorn's decided to eat both breakfast and second breakfast.
"There's some bread and honey left, Mister Bilbo," Ori told him seeing Bilbo's dejected face. "Dori made sure to store it away for you. Otherwise Bombur would have eaten everything."
"Thank you, Ori! I will make sure to thank Dori as well."
The bread smelled heavenly as if it had just been taken out of the oven. The food that Dori put away for him was more than enough and soon Bilbo found himself unable to take another bite.
"Where is Gandalf?" Bilbo asked. "And where is our host?"
"Haven't seen Beorn today," Bofur replied cheerily. "Gandalf, on the other hand, said he had something to do and told us that he would be returning shortly."
Bilbo shrugged and left it as it was. Everyone knew Gandalf was full of secrets. Whenever the wizard deemed them ready to learn the news, he would tell them. As for Beorn, the large man made Bilbo jumpy and part of him was glad he was not around. Every time the skin-changer looked at either him or Cypress, the hobbit had the feeling that he was weighting them and finding them lacking. Whatever was the problem, he hoped he would be told sooner or later.
The weather had taken a turn for the better. The shining sun and grass beckoned Bilbo outside. He left the wooden cabin and settled at the feet of a tree. He leaned against the trunk and gazed upwards, watching the sun shine through the leaves that had already started turning gold and auburn. Content, he allowed his mind to drift back to the Shire and autumns past. His parents had often taken him strolling in the Bindhole Woods during the warm days of Halimath. Later, after they had died, he had continued the tradition even though the strolls had brought back painful memories.
The sound of heavy boots stepping on grass and twigs echoed in the air. Bilbo turned his attention from the leaves of the tree to the approaching dwarf. There was a certain lightness on Thorin's features, a serenity that had not been there before. Bilbo knew for sure that it would disappear as soon as they would step foot in Mirkwood. However, for the time being, he enjoyed seeing the way Thorin's blue eyes shone with peace and the way his face was no longer marred by frowns. The sight of Erebor in the distance had brought hope to all the dwarves in the Company, but especially to their king.
A shout in the distance made Bilbo turn around and smile brightly: Fili and Kili were alternating between chasing Cypress and being chased by her when the wolf would decide to change the rules of the game. A few paces away Ori was sketching something and complaining loudly that the two were interrupting him. At one point, Fili changed course and grabbing a handful of leaves from the ground ran around the young scribe and dumped them all over him. Kili, never too far behind his brother, mirrored his actions. As a result a spluttering and red faced Ori tossed aside his sketches and started chasing the brothers throwing acorns at them with his slingshot.
"They remind me of my Took cousins," Bilbo chuckled as Thorin sat down beside him, watching his nephews with a fond smile. "They are in their tweens and think themselves invincible. They steal Farmer Maggot's crops and mushroom all the time. As a result he chases them with his dog across the fields."
"In dwarf years they are not much older than your cousins," Thorin remarked. "They are adults by our standards, but they are still very young."
A curse in Khuzdul was heard. When Bilbo turned his attention to the young dwarves again he noticed Fili and Kili buried under a pile of leaves, with Ori wearing a smug look besides them and Cypress licking Fili's face, making the young prince squirm and try to get away.
"My mother used to say that things happen as they are meant to," Bilbo said once the two had fallen into a comfortable silence. "That we are all given a path to walk on and that we must not fight against it," with misty eyes he glanced at the horizon and added. "She was very brave. She went on adventures with Gandalf and saw much darkness. She faced her fears and saved a wolf cub just because her silly son would not abandon it. She fought all the gossips in Hobbiton and gave them a thorough dressing down when they claimed she was not fit to be with my father. And she stood by his side and protected him to her death. I know she wouldn't have wanted me to blame myself, but I keep seeing her bloody body and keep hearing father's anguished cries. I keep thinking that I could have protected her, that I shouldn't have left her alone when she was too ill to defend herself properly. I never thought they would manage to break into Bag End," Bilbo added in a chocked voice. He did not know why everything came out, why he opened his heart to Thorin of all people. Yet, he knew that if anyone could understand the guilt crushing his soul, it was the dwarf king. They had both faced loss and lived through it, though none had come unscathed.
"In the first months after their death I wanted to leave Bag End," Bilbo admitted. "Everything was stifling with memories. Anywhere I looked I remembered them, but instead of good memories I was reminded of father's fevered dreams and mother's ashen face. I locked their room... it's still locked. After a while the pain started fading and I was able to remember the good not just the bad."
Thorin gazed at Bilbo in silence and watched the myriad of emotions that flickered in the hobbit's eyes. Pain, grief, longing and above all guilt flashed in succession. For such a gentle race, the pain endured during the Fell Winter must have been crippling. Yet, they struggled and moved past it. They learned to live with the pain.
Thorin tried not to think of the past as well; he did not want to envision three siblings running wild across dwarven halls. He did not want to see his brother's broken body at Azanulbizar nor his sister's stricken face when told of the death of her husband. Yet, the memories tugged at his soul. Bilbo had fallen in silence, wrapped in the past, when Thorin started speaking.
"I had a brother. His name was Frerin. He was the middle child and Kili is very like him both in looks and manners. We were inseparable: Frerin, our sister Dis and me. We were always together and the best of friends. At Azanulbizar he was only 48, much too young to see battle. Many of them were... many of them died too young." Thorin's voice turned darker, with an edge of sadness and thinly veiled rage. "We promised each other we would come back. He never did... I found his broken body near the Dimril Gate."
Thorin's blue eyes sought Bilbo's. Both were weighed down by sadness, loss and guilt.
"We are not so different after all," Thorin remarked with a pained smile. "We both blame ourselves for the death of our loved one and seek forgiveness. Thank you for sharing your past with me."
Silence once more stretched between them, as both mulled over the things they remembered and the loss they suffered. When noon announced the arrival of luncheon, both Gandalf and Beorn returned with news. A warg and an orc scout had dared venture on Beorn's lands which meant their enemies were close by. The skin-changer had gotten rid of both; an orc head stood impaled on a stake and a warg skin nailed to a nearby tree.
Despite the approaching danger, Beorn was in a boisterous mood. Seeing with his own eyes that their tale had been real cheered the skin-changer. He promised to give them ponies to lead them to the edge of Mirkwood and enough supplies for them to pass the forest without problems. He also warned them never to drink water from the streams in Mirkwood and never to leave the pass.
"The water of the forest is foul and nothing that grows in Mirkwood is edible anymore," Beorn had warned them. "Darkness has stretched over the forest and foul beasts roam free. The path will keep you as safe as possible. Do not stray from it."
The next day, as dawn broke, they prepared to leave the safety of Beorn's halls. As they settled their packs and prepared to leave their temporary shelter, the skin-changer drew Bilbo aside, gazing with worry at Cypress.
"There is something wrong with your wolf. A sickness is preying on her mind, though I cannot tell what it is. If you look closely into her eyes you will see a flash of madness taking over. I fear for her – and you – if you bring her in Mirkwood. The land there is dark and tainted. It might be enough to throw her over the edge."
"I cannot leave her behind," Bilbo said with worry tingeing his voice. "She would never allow being left here, in safety, while I venture the woods alone. During our road she fell off the cliffs into the shadows of the mountain. Even though she returned to me hale and hole, I too sensed something different about Cypress. I cannot give up on her though. I will see whatever it is and take care of her as she has taken care of me. I owe her my life many times over. I shall not abandon her at need."
The skin-changer nodded: "Then I fear that is the only path you can take. I wish you luck, little bunny. I hope that your wolf heals."
The unspoken sentence rang in silence between them. If Cypress were to go dark, she would turn against them... she would be killed. Bilbo was more than sure he would not be able to live with himself if something like that happened.
They ate their last meal at Beorn's and made their way to the edge of the Great Forest. From time to time the great shape of a bear appeared in their line of sight and they knew it was Beorn looking out for them and making sure his ponies would be returned.
A/N This chapter was a pain to write. Hope it turned out ok, I'm a bit iffy about it. *sigh* Well, that's that. Next stop Mirkwood, a sea of angst and many, many plot twist.