Chapter 10

At Gandalf's words, a thrill of apprehension made Bilbo tense up. "Oh, yes, the tree," he said, unsure why he was feeling so nervous. Finally, he was about to get some answers. "The oak tree. That one."

The wizard's gaze was piercing in a way that made it seem as though he was peering directly into Bilbo's mind. "Am I correct in assuming that strange things have occurred since the tree...made its appearance?"

"Yes." Bilbo shot a quick glance at Thorin, then turned his attention back to Gandalf. "Several s-strange things have happened."

"Hmm." Gandalf followed his eyes to the spot next to the fireplace, and stared at it inquiringly.

Thorin stood up a little straighter. "Can...Can you see me?"

However, he received no response, and a moment later, Gandalf turned back to Bilbo. "Would you mind describing for me these strange happenings?"

"Well, um…" Bilbo shared another anxious glance with Thorin. "The first was a terrible accident that happened to my gardener. Or his garden, rather. Well, I call it an accident, but we weren't really sure what to make of it."

"And what was it that happened, exactly?"

"All of the plants had rotted away, like nothing I've seen before. The whole thing was a dead, blackened mess. We cleared it away so it wouldn't spread, but that didn't stop the other thing that happened shortly after."

"Something else died, yes?"

"Birds. We—I saw them out on a walk a couple months ago. Not a sign of illness or wounds. It was as though they'd simply dropped out of the sky. A few weeks later a dog was found dead as well, covered in the same rot that destroyed Hamfast's garden. And now…" Bilbo gestured to the window, where the gently falling snow showed no signs of letting up. "This."

"I see." Gandalf laced his fingers together and nodded.

Although he was afraid to, Bilbo asked, "Do you know why these things have been happening?"

"I believe I do, yes." He turned his gaze to the window, lapsing into another pensive silence.

Bilbo waited for him to speak, his pulse pounding in his temples and counting the apprehensive seconds that ticked by.

Finally, Gandalf said, "The world is in a constant state of change. But in it all, there is balance. It is why night follows day, spring follows winter…" The wizard fixed him with a meaningful stare. "Why death follows life."

"Y-Yes."

"And if there is an imbalance, nature will always find a way to correct it."

Slowly, the pieces were starting to come together, creeping forward from where they had lingered on the edge of his consciousness and interlocking to form a clearer picture. "So you're saying all this death is because of the tree." His eyes flickered briefly to the ceiling. "Because new life has appeared in the Shire."

"The tree, yes." One bushy brow arched slightly. "But he is here too, is he not?"

"He…" Bilbo blinked at that. "H-How can you tell?"

"Well, there is the fact that you've been addressing quite a few of your remarks to that seemingly empty space by the fireplace," Gandalf said with a nod in Thorin's direction. "And given that you brought home with you the power to create life, I'd imagine there's only one thing you would wish for."

That last remark was accompanied by a glint of sympathy in those shrewd eyes, and Bilbo felt a pang in his chest as he was once again lost to memory. Gandalf had been the first to find him during those gray, tear-stained hours after Thorin's passing, and had stayed with him for a long while after that, silently offering the small comfort his company could give.

"It is his presence, too, that has thrown the Shire into chaos," Gandalf said in the same gentle, cautious voice he had used after the battle.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bilbo saw Thorin's face grow pale. His lips twisted into a frown. "Well...Well, certainly that is unfortunate. But it's like you said before—nature finds a way to restore balance eventually. So everything should go back to normal at some point, yes?"

"Except these recent events have been distinctly unnatural, have they not?" Gandalf shook his head, causing a few strands of silver hair to fall out of place. "There is nothing natural at all about trees growing overnight or the dead returning to the world of the living."

Bilbo clasped his hands tightly in his lap, feeling the barest of tremors begin beneath his skin. He had a dreadful feeling he knew what Gandalf was about to say next, and did not want to hear it at all.

"I'm afraid the problems that have plagued the Shire will only grow worse unless you cut down that tree."

"The tree. The oak tree above my house," Bilbo said, though his voice sounded far away. Faintly, he clung to one last strand of hope. If it was just the tree…

"Not only the tree. If the oak falls, Thorin will follow."

Silence. It spread and pressed against the walls of the room. The white flakes outside continued to fall noiselessly, and even the ringing in his ears had stopped as Bilbo felt his breathing stop.

"No."

"Bilbo, I understand this is difficult—"

"No, no, you don't understand." His voice came out far weaker than he'd expected, and he turned to Thorin, desperate for some form of support.

The dwarf's face was still pale, and he did not meet his eyes, choosing instead to focus his gaze on the window. Thorin's expression was completely unreadable, and Bilbo felt himself shrink back into the armchair a little, feeling terrifyingly alone.

"You are not alone," Gandalf said as though he'd read his thoughts. "And none of the actions you take exist within this house alone. As long as you live in the Shire, you are connected to it. It is a part of you as much as you are a part of it."

Bilbo shook his head. "I don't see how that can possibly be true. I'm not—We're not hurting anyone here." A prickling heat behind his eyes warned him that tears were not far behind, and he furiously tried to blink them back. "I-I don't understand how we could be punished for something that's not doing any damage."

"I will not say it is fair. But it is the way of the world. It takes just as much as it gives."

"There has to be another way." His mind, which had ground to a halt in shock, was now beginning to work once more, furiously searching for something he had missed, a way out that didn't involve losing everything. "Y-You said this is magic. Could there be some sort of spell, o-or something…" He lifted his gaze to Gandalf, not caring how pleading he looked.

"There is nothing I can do, Bilbo." He spread his hands. "I am bound to ensure peace within these lands—"

"Peace?"

Bilbo tensed as a wave of anger crashed over his desperation. All of the conflict and frustration he had been feeling suddenly converged onto one point as a new realization came to mind. None of this—the pain, the loss, the indecision that was tearing him apart from the inside—none of it would have come into his life had he never run out his door in the first place.

"Is that what you call it? Sending thirteen dwarves into my house, leading us all on a suicide mission to slay a dragon? You might remember that one ended in a battle, which seems to me to be the exact opposite of peace."

"I did not force you to sign that contract, Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf said, his voice rising to match the other's volume. "Nor did I deceive you about what you would face during your journey."

"If you knew what it was going to do to me…" Bilbo paused as his voice cracked. "Then why ask me to go at all?"

At this, some of the heat in the wizard's gaze faded. "I never wished any harm to come to you. And I never anticipated the heartbreak you would experience at the end of your journey. You did a great deal of good for a great many people." Gandalf stood, and he knew their conversation was drawing to a close. "I have never known you to be a selfish person, Bilbo Baggins. And I will not force your hand in this matter, either. I only ask you to remember what I have told you, and what sort of person you want to be in this world."

Too exhausted to do much more than bury his face in his hands and try to remember how to breathe, Bilbo let Gandalf show himself to the door. Another gust of icy wind followed the wizard's departure, and the house was thrown into silence once more.

Bilbo did not allow himself to cry, but it was a good long while before he could move without feeling as though he would push himself to the verge of tears. When he finally mustered the strength to look up, he blinked and winced as the burst of light reminded him that his headache had not altogether disappeared.

Thorin had not moved from his spot near the fireplace. The pain in his heart was clear in every line of his face, but upon noticing Bilbo looking at him, he pushed it all under a stony mask.

Soundlessly, the dwarf crossed the room and took Gandalf's spot on the couch. Another spell of nothing but quiet, hesitant breathing passed.

"I-I didn't mean it," Bilbo finally said, his voice nothing more than a shaky whisper. "What I said earlier, about you leaving." He took a deep breath and managed, "I don't want you to leave."

Thorin had trained his gaze on the patterned rug on the floor. Bilbo found himself mentally tracing the sharp line of his nose, the dark shape of his brows, the texture of his hair, trying to memorize all the little features that he'd never really appreciated before.

"I don't want to leave." Thorin's voice came out just as soft as his.

"We'll figure this out," Bilbo said, though the words sounded awfully inadequate, a meager salve on a bleeding and painful wound. "W-We can—"

"But if what Gandalf says is true," Thorin began, then left the unspoken half of his sentence hanging in the air like a death sentence.

"There has to be another way." There had to be, because Bilbo still could not fully wrap his mind around the alternative. He could not imagine experiencing the most painful loss of his life a second time, and going back to living in this awful echoing house alone.

Another idea sparked to life in his mind, and Bilbo let it lift him to his feet. He moved over to the couch and took Thorin's hands in his own. "Look, I think there was some truth to what you said this morning. Eventually I am going to have to choose between my life in the Shire and what is out there. And I'll choose." He squeezed Thorin's hands, willing him to have the same optimism that was beginning to brighten his words. "We can leave the Shire, together. That should...That should fix things."

Thorin finally met his gaze, and the quiet resignation in his eyes doused the spark of hope that had momentarily lifted his spirits. "I meant what I said earlier, right before you left. You cannot run away from this. We cannot, no matter how painful—" He stopped, his jaw tightening, and averted his gaze once more.

"So...So that's it?" Bilbo asked, indignation rising again. "That can't be. It's not like you, to give up so easily."

He closed his eyes, taking a moment to collect himself. "I see no other option. It pains me beyond belief to give up what we have, but I will not let my own desires result in the suffering of others."

Bilbo drew back his hands, hurt, then remembered exactly who he had fallen in love with. Thorin still had the mindset of a king, and he knew it was impossible for the dwarf to place his desires over the good of the people and maintain a clear conscience.

"I will not force your hand in this either," Thorin continued. "It is your choice. But I do not wish to see you bear the pain of losing your home."

"And that," Bilbo said, his voice hoarse, "is exactly why I can't cut down that tree."

To me Gandalf has always been a…for lack of a better term, morally gray character. Focused on the greater good, and willing to live with some collateral damage. So that was interesting to explore somewhat in this chapter.

Thanks to Anno1701 for the nice comment, and thanks to Rckedsndx for providing some agriculture information! I truly appreciate it. Thanks for reading this chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed it. Let me know in a comment what you think Bilbo and Thorin should do next, or if you have any ideas as to how this is going to end. Next chapter is going to have some action, so stay tuned!