Bilbo woke slowly, in stages that moved with such fluidity by the time he fully grasped the idea of the new sensations around him he had completely forgotten the ones before it. His eyes remained closed and his mouth mute but he was not helpless, he'd spent many nights with his eyes swollen shut and his lips split beyond use to causing his remaining senses to become more efficient. Quickly, as one does upon waking in an unknown surroundings, he began compiling a list of facts to give him a small semblance understanding.
1. The sun was warm beating down on him from directly above making it around mid day .
2. He was lying on thick plush grass, the kind the rolled over the hills and homes of the Shire. It's blades were tall and wide perfect for making grass whistles.
3. There were no animal sounds of any kind. In fact there was not a single sound to be heard at all .
He concentrated next on trying to regain some of his motor functions, focusing specifically on his finger tips. It took him longer than he would like to admitt, even though he had no idea how much time had passed because the sun had yet to change its position, but eventually he was not only able to move all ten fingers individually but close them in a fist as well. After another indistinguishable amount of time and frustration Bilbo was finally able to open his eyes and pull himself up into a sitting position; what he saw took his breath away.
He was in a meadow, not just any meadow but the most beautiful meadow he had ever seen. The grass was tall, lush, and green, it's shades ranged from the light green of fresh wood to the deep green of a mountain pine and it danced and moved in the soundless breeze. Flowers of every size, shape, and color spread out across the field shining and shimmering in the sunlight as if they were made from glass. The smells were overpowering sending his head swirling in a dazed bliss as he tried to differentiate them; lilacs, juniper, mint. It was by far the most gorgeous sight he had ever seen; if you were to imagine the perfect place it would fall short in comparison to this meadow.
He looked around for any marker or clue as to exactly where he was and found nothing. He knew he had never been here before nor heard of such a place. As he took in his surroundings he spied a castle standing tall on a large hill above the sea of grass, it's stones shinning brightly in the sun. Rising to his feet he headed towards it as if following an invisible string that was pulling him to his destination.
It didn't take long for him to make his way to its open gates and as he a proceed he noticed that it was more of a fortress than a castle with tall stone towers that twisted and turned rising into the sky. He felt intimidated standing on the threshold, he had seen no sign of life since he opened his eyes. No birds, bees, or butterflies in the meadow nor human, man, or dwarf inside of the fortress. He thought for a moment it may have been abandoned but it did not appear to be in unkempt or run down. Even the green vines that clung to the outer wall seemed tended and controlled, as if someone worked hard to keep up the aesthetic appeal of the place. Tilting his head back his eyes scanned the open windows searching for any sign of who or what resided inside to no avail.
The invisible string tugged on him, urging him to move forward and curious he followed it under the arched gates into the court yard beyond. The court yard was circular with a large set of imposing yet beautiful stairs climbing to two large open doors. Again his eyes roamed the area finding no sign of life, a small shiver ghosted over the back of his neck as the invisible force urged him forward once again.
He followed the stairs up into the entry way of the fortress continuing on as the spiral stairs led him up higher and higher. He passed many doors made of both stone and wood, some with out any form of handles and those that did appeared to be locked. Still the force pulled on, Bilbo following blindly as if he were tethered to it. He felt a tingling in the back of his mind, pausing for a moment debating the idea of turning around when an orange glow caught his eye. Orange and yellow bouncing off of the stone causing shadows to dance down the stairs as if a torch was lit above. His innate curiosity out weighed any concerns he had been feeling the moment before and he silently pushed forward.
Peering into the open door way he observed what appeared to be a bedroom of some kind. A large wooden bed was set off to the side on one of the far walls, two plush chairs were seated facing an enormous fire place, which had been the source of the orange glow, and an old man sat hunched over a large wooden desk that was situated in the opposite coner from the bed. He didnt know why he did it, he made no conscious decision for his feet to carry him into the room that held a strange man who was seemingly the only inhabitant of this strange place but move he did.
"Whose there?" the old man shouted spinning quickly in his seat, surprisingly quick for someone so old.
Bilbo froze in place his mouth snapping shut his breath caught in his throat. Time stood still as the old man and Bilbo eyed each other; Bilbo with an apologetic embarrassed air while the old man pierced him with piercing grey eyes. The old man accessed Bilbo from head to toe his face forming an expression of shock mixed with confusion.
"Who are you?" The old man asked his voice slow and smooth like honey instantly relaxing Bilbo.
"I'm Bilbo Baggins, I apologize for intruding but I have no idea where I am." he answered trying to keep himself from fidgeting.
"How did you find this place?" he asked tilting his head to the side slightly.
"I uh, this may sound unbelievable but I have no idea; I just woke up in the meadow." Bilbo answered sheepishly, wondering why he hadn't asked himself that question. Now that he thought about it he couldn't remember anything before waking up in the meadow.
"Curious." the old man whispered more to himself than Bilbo casting a long look out the window.
Bilbo shifted uneasily from one foot to the other wondering if the old man had forgotten that he was there. Bilbo used to the time to truly observe the man before him. He was old, obviously, old enough for his age to be indistinguishable. He had long grey hair that was streaked with white falling past his shoulders to his elbow. His face was thin with a long hooked nose set above a pair of thin lips that was half covered by a long salt and pepper beard, his long large knuckled fingers were clasped together on his lap. Bilbo could tell by the length of his arms and linen clad legs that the old man was tall; most beings seemed tall to a hobbit but this man was almost unnaturally so.
Another sensation of tingling pressed into the back of his mind and a sense of deja vu. He felt as if he'd seen this man before, in another place, in another time. An image of a grey cloak and a withered pointy hat appeared in eye for the slightest moment and felt an ache in his chest as it disappeared with no reasoning behind it at all.
"Where are you from Bilbo Baggins?" the old man asked his eyes still looking at the window.
Bilbo thought for a moment but his mind was completely blank. He tried to think of anything about himself; his home, friends, mother, father, likes, dislikes, even his favorite color, finding . His was mind was completely blank. He knew his name, Bilbo Baggins, but it ended there, he didn't even know how old he was. Part of him was extremely worried and panicked while the rest of him was wondering why he wasn't more concerned about the fact that he had absolutely no idea who he was or where he was for that matter.
"I-I don't know." he answered softly his eyes locking on the cold stone beneath his feet.
He didn't see the softening of the old man's face or the sharp spark in his eye at Bilbo's words too lost in his own head searching for something, anything .
"Where am I?" he asked his eyes slowly rising to meet the stormy grey of the old man.
"You are in my home, Amon Lanc." The old man answered, raising his hands to gesture towards their surroundings.
"If I am understanding the situation correctly Master Baggins you have managed to find your way to my home and not only have no memory of how you came to be here but no memory what so ever." he added gauging Bilbo's reaction.
"That seems to be the case." Bilbo frowned.
"Wonderful!" the old man exclaimed clapping his hands together.
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry, how rude of me!" the old man rushed, his face taking on an apologetic expression, "It's just that I've been alone here for a very long time. It would be my pleasure for you to stay here while you recover what you've lost, I'd quite like the company." he offered with a small smile.
"I wouldn't want to impose."
"Nonsense! Besides it's getting rather late and you must be tired. Please allow me to show you to a room so you may rest."
Bilbo quickly thought over his options, he could stay here with this stranger, who did seem very kind, or go back outside and wander around with no memory or any idea where he was headed; obviously it did not take him long to make his choice.
"That's very kind thank you." he answered genuinely.
"Ah good lad! If you'll just follow me." was the reply he got as the old man shuffled past him and began to make his way further up the winding stairs.
As they climbed higher into the castle Bilbo noticed, with a degree of surprise, that the sun was quickly sinking below the horizon even though it had been high in the sky before he found the old man. He did not have much time to think on the subject before he was being ushered into to a very comfortable looking room almost identical from the one he had just left, the only difference being the color of the bedding, this room's was a bright blue where the other had been a deep purple color.
"Here we are Master Baggins, please make yourself at home. I will retire to now, let me know if there is anything you need to make you more comfortable. I'll be in my own chambers if you need me." he stated kindly bowing his head once as he turned to the door.
"Thank you!" Bilbo called after him, "I'm sorry but I didn't catch your name."
The old man paused halfway out the door, his hand frozen on the large metal door handle.
"I have been known by many names by many different races." he answered his tone guarded.
"What is your true name?" he questioned again, the invisible string making a reappearance pulling at his mind as if the answer to this question was more important than just exchanging pleasantries.
The old man stood frozen in place eyeing Bilbo as if he were a puzzle that needed solving, "Mairon," he answered after a few moments, "My given name was Mairon." he whispered before leaving, shutting the door softly behind him.
Exhaustion he had not know he felt hit him like an avalanche causing him to stumble his way to the bed barely forcing himself to pull back the covers. His mind ran circles around everything he'd seen today as it tried to remember everything he'd forgotten only aiding in pulling him into slumber. Just as his eyes closed and his mind drifted from waking to sleep he saw a pair of icy blue eyes, the rest of the body and face hidden in shadows causing the eyes to appear even more striking. He tried to pull back the shadows, a great sense of longing and and another emotion he couldn't name firmly gathering in his chest as the figure lifted it's hands revealing a large copper colored acorn resting in his grey palms.
In the coming weeks Bilbo and Mairon settled into a simple routine both would wake and share breakfast where Mairon would share stories some of which Bilbo assumed to be about the man's past, as Bilbo tried to remember and piece together any information from his own which he usually gained from his dreams each night.
After breakfast Bilbo would wander around the fortress and the meadow beyond or spend his day exploring and perusing Mairon ' s massive library. Some nights they would share diner together discussing the things Bilbo had seen and discovered that day before they would retire to their respective rooms. Before laying down to sleep Bilbo would write of his day, his memories new and old no matter how small in a large leather bound book Mairon had gifted him on the second night of his stay; adding a little dash to the back page to mark the days as they passed. Every night Bilbo would dream of faceless figures and muffled voices or images cloaked in a thick fog only to be forgotten by the time he a woke.
Three months passed that way, Mairon seemed kind and helpful eager to spend time with Bilbo. The hobbit, as he now remembered himself to be, was open and kind always quick to offer a his help, a willing ear, or companionable silence to the old man. It was apparent that Mairon was more than he seemed and had been alone for a very long time and eagerly sought out Bilbo's company. It was during this time that Bilbo discovered that Mairon was in fact a shape shifter. One day when Bilbo went in search of breakfast he found him self seated across from a young man.
The man had long brown hair and a soft yet masculine face with stunning green eyes. Bilbo may have screamed as the young man transformed into the old man he knew as Mairon and back again but what was a hobbit expected to do in such a situation.
"Have you been able to do that all this time?" he asked his mouth still hanging open in shock.
"The whole time," Mairon answered with a smug smile that looked more natural on his young face than it ever had on the old man.
"So you chose to be a decrepit old man for the past three months?" Bilbo asked again his own smirk coming out to play.
"I was not decrepit." Mairon hissed as if the word had physically wounded him and Bilbo laughed.
"It took you over a half an hour to climb an flight of stairs, not to mention all the strange cracking noises you made when you would stand or sit." the hobbit teased.
"Very funny." Mairon drawled waving his hand in the air.
"So why the change?" Bilbo questioned with genuine curiosity.
Mairon paused and tilted his head slightly to the left in what Bilbo had come to name his 'thinking' face.
"I've lived for a long time and done terrible things." he started solemnly, "but recently I've decided I might like a chance for a fresh start." he finished his voice sounding small and vulnerable as he glanced up at Bilbo.
Bilbo nodded once at his friend who flashed him a brilliant smile tossing a large apple to the hobbit. The pair fell back into their usual routine and though Bilbo wanted to ask Mairon about his past yet he held his tongue, his memory was still mostly just a blank space who was he to say that he hadn't done terrible things in his own right. The idea terrified him and he thought that if he had he would like the chance at a fresh start too.
It was on the eve that marked his six month at Amon Lanc when his memory returned to him. He dreamed of the icy blue eyes when the fog around them lifted vanishing as if it had never been there in the first place.
Thorin .
Suddenly, images flashed before him at a frantic pace leaving him dizzy and more than a little sick but they kept coming. Long nights spent on his mother's lap as she told him stories until he drifted off to sleep. The cursed Fell Winter that took more than a few hobbit lives. The Shire in all of it's glory filled with music and laughter as they danced under the party tree. His parents passing leaving him alone in Bag End. Gandalf appearing at his gate and inviting him on an adventure. Thirteen dwarves decending on his home and offering him a place among their company as their burglar.
The images flew by more rapidly now as he saw rainstorms, mountain trolls, Thorin, Warg riders, Rivendell, Kili and Fili, stone gaints, goblins, falling down into the dark, Thorin, the creature, a ring, riddles in the dark, Thorin, sunshine, safety, Thorin, running, burning trees, Azog, Thorin, sting slicing through an orc, standing in front of the pale orc refusing to let him get to injured dwarf behind him, eagles, a mountain top, Thorin, elves, barrels, Thorin, a hidden door, a dragon, riddles, a cup, Thorin, Lake town on fire, the Arkenstone, Throin, the threat of war, betrayal, dangling high above the ground, heartbreak, Throin, a great battle, Throin, banishment, Thorin, Thranduil, Gandalf, Bard, nightmares, Throin, captured, Dis, beatings, Dis, Thorin, a whipping, escape, Dis, Thorin, Thorin, Throin, Thorin, Thorin.
He woke with a start and Throin's name on his lips his eyes wet with tears and his throat hot with bile. He felt off balance and unsteady, dizzy and weak as he fought for breath.
What had he done?
Grief hit him fresh and new just as hard as it had the day he walked out of Throin's tent leaving the love of his life behind him. He had loved Thorin with everything he had and for awhile he had thought that maybe, just maybe the dwarf had loved him in return but he ruined that. He stole the Arkenstone and even though his intentions were good and done for the right reasons he had lost everything he held dear that day. He cried until he had no more tears left in him to give and then cried some more his heartbreaking all over again.
When the sun rose high in the sky he stumbled his way down the spiraling stone steps and to the small dinning room he and Mairon had come to use.
"Bilbo what happened?" Mairon cried rushing over to his friend placing a steadying hand on his back to guide him to a seat.
"I remember." Bilbo croaked his throat burning around the words.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Mairon offered gently placing a comforting hand on Bilbo's shoulder.
"I-I don't think I can." he whispered brokenly as more tears streamed down his face.
Mairon said nothing as he pulled Bilbo to his feet guiding him up the stairs back towards his room slowly, Bilbo following behind him his eyes empty of everything but pain and regret.
"I loved him," Bilbo whispered softly and Mairon wasn't sure it was meant for his ears, "I loved him and I betrayed him."
Mairon guided Bilbo up into his bed and tucked his cover up around his shoulders unsure of what to do next. He was a cold soul by nature, he valued perfection, order, and power above all else. He had spent his very long existence pursuing those values without any thought of who he hurt in the process. Any fool stupid enough to oppose him was dealt with swiftly and mercilessly, used as a message to others who would dare to try his might. He had no experience with love or friendship they were a weaknesses, a vulnerability that could be used against him and that was not acceptable.
Yet here he was concerned for the little hobbit before him, wondering what he could do to comfort and help him. Never once had he ever considered the needs of others, unless of course it could be used to his advantage then he was more than happy to exploits their needs but now he was at a loss. He had been alone for far too long, left to sit and stew in his bitterness and hate which he had done until the appearance of Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo was a mystery to him, he never pried into his past and never judged him for his behavior, when he would become and angry or sullen; even when Mairon ' s anger was directed at the hobbit. Bilbo never fought back instead he would just slip quietly out the door not to be seen again until breakfast the next morning where he would always have a warm smile on his face.
Slowly his bitterness began to fade and Mairon began to think that maybe his past could be forgotten here with the hobbit who had no past of his own. He stopped looking beyond Amon Lanc content to spend his days in the company of his new friend. Friend . Such a strange new word that he had yet to fully understand but he knew that it applied to his relationship with the hobbit, against all the odds, against his very nature. Which brought him to his dilemma, what did one do for a grieving friend?
Eventually, he decided on a simple but brilliant plan of action, he would imitate Bilbo's behavior. He would act towards the hobbit as the hobbit had always acted towards him and hoped for the best. Relieved at his decision he plopped himself down in one of the large arm chairs that Bilbo always seemed so found of, with a flick of his fingers the fireplace blazed with light casting a warm and he hoped comforting glow about the room. Leaning against the plush chair he sighed and settled himself in to wait, he would be here for the hobbit when he woke and go from there.
It had taken weeks before Bilbo was able to reveal his whole history to Mairon and even longer before he could honestly and openly speak of his feelings for Thorin. Mairon sat silently letting Bilbo ramble and rant, cry and scream when needed, always ready to offer his support. He had even suggested that Bilbo write of his life and adventure in his large book, saying that it might help him put it all behind him. Bilbo was extremely grateful for his friend but couldn't stop the nagging feeling that something wasn't right.
He woke early one morning before the sun risen into the sky with a start and a familiar pull tugging on his chest. He dressed quickly grumbling about the ungodly hour but still followed the pull out the door and into the meadow. He was bent over admiring a large patch of wild flowers when he heard it, a whisper on the wind. It sounded familiar and it took him a few minutes before he realized the voice sounded identical to Thranduil's. Standing up quickly he scanned the meadow around him searching for his friend, hoping he would be there but finding nothing. The voice came again wafting past his ears and he chased after it as the invisible force pulled him along, encouraging him to find his friend the elven king.
"Bilbo!" Mairon yelled but Bilbo ignored him focusing on the voice that was getting softer by the second.
"Bilbo what are you doing?" he cried running to catch up with his friend.
"Following the voice." he panted pushing his burning legs faster, he hadn't run like this since the day he woke the dragon.
"What voice?" Mairon asked sending Bilbo a confused glance.
"Thranduil." Bilbo huffed seriously out of breath. "Heard him - can't find him."
Mairon reached out grabbing Bilbo by his upper arms halting his movements.
"Thranduil was here? You saw him?" Mairon shouted frantically shaking Bilbo sharply by the shoulders.
Bilbo's eye grew wide his mouth opening and closing in confusion as to why he was being shaken like a rag doll.
"Did you see him?" he shouted again when Bilbo failed to answer.
"No." Bilbo bit out fighting the urge to whimper as Mairon's fingers dug hard into his arms hard enough to leave a bruise.
"I didn't see him I only heard him, or something that sounded like him." Bilbo explained eyeing Mairon warily more than a little unsettled by his violent reaction.
Mairon visibly relaxed though his grip on Bilbo remained sharp and tight.
"I need you to go inside right now." he ordered, "Go to your room and bolt the door, do not come out no matter what." he finished forcefully his eyes a swirling sea of gray that remained Bilbo of the faceless figures he used to see in his sleep.
"Why, what's going on?" he questioned, hearing the worry in his voice.
"I'll explain later just go!" he ordered turning Bilbo swiftly and pushing him towards the fortress with so much force the hobbit was forced to pinwheel his arms wildly to keep himself from crashing face first into the ground, before sprinting back to the fortress only stopping once he'd slammed his wooden door behind him.
That was the day that everything changed.
Mairon who had been kind, concerned, and someone Bilbo had considered a friend became angry, paranoid, and extremely possessive. He refused to let Bilbo out of his room keeping the door bolted from the outside as if he were a prisoner. He would bring food three times a day which Bilbo always forced himself to eat a small portion of for strength. Mairon would visit every night and sit by the fire in Bilbo's arm chair for hours, muttering to himself about the elves, the dwarves, and Gandalf, how they had already taken too much from him and would not get his hobhit, as if Bilbo was a pet to be kept.
As the days dragged on the sky grew darker the sun blocked out by massive black clouds, the meadow which had once been beautiful became twisted and sick, flowers dying only to be replaced by giant thorn bushes with thorns as long as Bilbo's arm. Mairon ' s behavior became more erratic as he would pace frantically back and forth across the floor of Bilbo's room only stopping long enough to shout his anger and bitterness or to smash something against the cold stone wall.
Bilbo was trapped, every time he tried to escape his room, not that he had any idea where to go if he got out, Mairon would find him and lock him right back up. The first time Mairon struck Bilbo he had been shocked, his friend pleaded for the hobbit to forgive him, tenderly trying to clean the split in Bilbo's lip. Bilbo flinched as his hand approached sending Mairon into another violent fit which thankfully only ended in the destruction of a their plates and tea cups. That was the moment Bilbo knew there was no going back, the Mairon he had considered a friend was gone and in his place was someone dangerous and not to be trusted.
The second time Thranduil's voice came drifting on the wind Mairon 's rage changed burning hotter and brighter. Bilbo saw the the hate begin to take over his once friend twisting him into someone completely new and terrifying. He would question Bilbo mercilessly about his past, his friendships, Thorin, and most often if the hobbit would choose to stay in Amon Lanc or if he would go back. Every time he hurled his questions at the hobbit Bilbo remained mute from his corner refusing to even meet Mairon's eye which would always send him into a fit of rage but Bilbo knew his answers would only make the situation worse. Mairon would know if Bilbo lied to him but he truly feared Mairon ' s reaction should he tell the truth so he said nothing and prayed for a way out or death.
Mairon ' s tactics changed as Thranduil's voice was joined by another's growing in frequency and volume. He dragged Bilbo down into the dungeon of the fortress and cast him into a cell. Bilbo couldn't help laughing at the cruel irony that he was once again alone behind bars in the dark and this time he prayed no one joined him.
The cell was only beginning of Mairon ' s torture, each time Bilbo slipped into slumber he was greeted by terrible visions. He saw his friends tortured and burning, dying in the most painful ways imaginable over and over and over again. Each time he would rush to help them and each time he would be a second too late, forced to hold them in his arms while their last breath left their lungs. It was Throin's death the hurt the worst followed by Dis, Kili, and Fili and it was theirs that came most frequently.
Relentlessly Mairon pressed him, pushed him, ordered him to make his choice and stay and slowly Bilbo's mind began to crumble. He would take whippings and beatings everyday for the rest of his life over this mental torture. His nightmares followed him viciously into his waking hours until he saw them with his eyes open and nothing he did would make them stop. His spirit crumbled, chipped away by his pain and grief a little more each day until he was no more than a shell that housed his broken soul.
One day Mairon came to him and offered him peace. He would stop the visions, he would erase the pain and heartache, he would erase everything. He would wipe Bilbo's mind clean, clean as it was the day he woke in the meadow if the hobbit would choose to stay. They could live out their days in quite friendship as they had before Thranduil's voice appeared on the wind. Bilbo would be free, free of all the regret he felt for betraying Thorin, free of his broken heart knowing his only love cast him aside, he would be free to live out his days in an ignorant bliss and all it would cost him was a choice.
Bilbo could taste the freedom Mairon offered him and it felt sweet on his tongue. What was he really giving up if he chose to stay here, it wasn't if he had anything to go back to. He had Bag End, empty lonely Bag End. He had no one waiting for his return, no one to hold him at night when his nightmares became too real, no one to love him, no one to care about him at all so why was he fighting the reprieve Mairon offered? He could stay here and be at peace, it was true there would be no love but he wouldn't even remember what it felt like to have your heart beat for another he wouldn't be missing anything.
Bilbo opened his mouth to answer, to agree to Mairon's terms when his chest filled with so much warmth he feared he had caught fire.
"You are stronger than any being I have ever known," a soft broken voice whispered right in his ear and Bilbo swallowed a gasp.
Thorin!
That was Thorin's voice and Bilbo had never heard anything more beautiful in his entire life.
" I need you to fight now, one more miracle amrâl'im'ê. " Throin's voice sounded strong and full in Bilbo's ear filling him with a strength he had never felt before.
Bilbo took a deep breath surround himself in the feeling of love and hope that was rising in him when he felt the light press of what could have been nothing other than lips, Thorin's lips , press softly against his temple and he knew what he must do.
"No." he answered strongly his voice full of a fire he had no name for.
"What did you say?" Mairon hissed dangerously.
"No." Bilbo said louder rising to his feet, boldly meeting Mairon's any gaze, "I will never let you take him from me again."
"You are a fool Bilbo Baggins I offer you a life free of all pain and still you choose heartache." Mairon spat pacing frantically back and forth in front of Bilbo's cell.
"You would rather Iive out your days tortured by your memories than happy and content with out them. These visions will only get worse I will make you watch his death a thousand times!" he shouted kicking a small stone hard against the stone wall shattering it into pieces.
Bilbo straightened his back and narrowed his gaze on the man he had once called friend but had come to hate.
"My answer stays the same, I will not let him be taken from me again." Bilbo vowed stepping closer to the unbreakable bars that held him caged.
"If I have to suffer a thousand lives of pain and heartbreak they will be worth it because every ounce of pain i feel will remind me that I loved him with everything I had."
"He never loved you, he hates you even now, you betrayed him and he cast you away without without a second thought!" Mairon screamed throwing his hands out wildly before him.
A bright light began to glow around Bilbo filling him with warmth, friendship, hope, love and saftey. His body hummed with energy as Thranduil's voice once again sounded on the wind stronger than ever before.
"No!" Mairon screamed engulfing himself in a bright red glow that danced around him like a flame.
Bilbo felt the power rolling off of Mairon as his glow turned to flame like tendrils that slithered forward through the bars reaching for the hobbit. Bilbo scuttled backwards trying to avoid the flame but he was trapped, his back pressed against the cold biting stone. The flames wrapped around his arms and ankles burning his skin. Bilbo screamed, a raw gut churning scream as he struggled to free himself from Mairon ' s grasp as the light around him brightened.
"I will not let them have you!" Mairon screeched pushing more power into his flame like chains causing Bilbo to scream out again as he trashed against their hold.
Thranduil's voice grew echoing around the stone chamber his light burrowing under Bilbo's skin shinning out through him. Bilbo's body was burning, boiling him the inside as flames burned him from the outside.
"Choose!" Mairon screamed slamming his arms towards the ground causing the chain of flames to send Bilbo crashing to the ground in a broken heap as another scream ripped from his throat.
The pain became unbearable as Bilbo screamed again and again. His arms and legs were covered in flames now so hot he could feel the skin melting off of his bones as the light pulsing inside of him boiled the blood in his veins.
"Choose!" Mairon screamed again dragging Bilbo across the stone cell until his face smashed against the metal bars.
Bilbo bit down on his tongue hard, so hard he was afraid he had bit it off only to clamp down harder hoping to cut the screams off in his throat. He would not let Mairon win, he would not let him hear his cries of pain anymore. He was not a weak willed hobbit afraid to walk out his own door, he was Bilbo Baggins of Bag End burglar to The Company of Thorin Oakenshield. He faced trolls, orcs, dragons, and his own worst nightmare and if he was going to die he was going to do it on his terms.
He realized now, his mind flooded with pain, that even if Throin had never loved him, even if the dwarf king hated him, the love he felt for him was still worth everything because love is not selfish. It is not for the one who gives their heart away, it's for the one they give their heart to. Thorin may not have loved Bilbo but Bilbo loved him and his every breath was spent ensuring his dwarf's saftey, his dwarf 's happiness and that was the point. Real love meant that no matter what, no matter the pain, no matter the cost you would always put that person and their needs first.
So in the end, as Bilbo lay drowning in flame and light he thought of Thorin the dwarf who had managed to steal the heart of a burglar and hoped he was happy, hoped that his life would bring him everything that he had wanted and wished for, and hoped that one day he would look back on the time they had spent together and remember Bilbo with a smile on his beautiful face.
"Choose!" Mairon demanded with an evilness Bilbo had yet to hear and he knew he only had moments before the flame or light claimed him, which one he was still unsure.
Closing his eyes he pictured Thorin standing tall and proud with a crown of gold on his head as he addressed his people every inch the king Bilbo knew he could be and made his choice, the choice he would always make no matter the cost, no matter the pain, no matter the out come.
"I choose Thorin Oakenshield!" he screamed with every ounce of fight he had left in him, his heart bursting as the words left his lips as the light inside his body consumed him whole.
amrâl'im'ê- my love