CHAPTER SUMMARY:
In which Gandalf and Bilbo briefly chat and an agreement is reached, quite possibly due to the state of Bilbo's mind at the moment.
Gandalf had long concerned himself with the troubles of the North; the dragon Smaug and the darkness of Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains gave him great cause for worry. There was also Dol Goldur to fear — and fear it Gandalf did. He had visited Dol Goldur with suspicions of a dark being worse than a simple Nazgûl in mind some nine hundred or so years ago. A fear of Sauron, a being most believed gone for good.
Yet when he visited all he found was a creature that disappeared, leaving behind only the moniker "The Necromancer" and Gandalf no more reassured than when he started. Still, he did not visit the place again for nearly eight hundred years, half of which were peaceful, half of which were not.
The peace he treasured. When the peace was threatened, and then ceased to truly exist, Gandalf acted. He helped form the White Council, refusing leadership in order to better serve his purpose, helping people. And he did try to help people; he did everything he could for each and every of the innocent folk he met.
It was during those years that Gandalf met the lovely hobbits of the Shire. After protecting and aiding them during the Long Winter, a terrible time of starvation and danger for the normally peaceful race, he became welcome amongst the isolated people.
It was a great honor to him; they had impressed him with their courage and heart through the trying season. He fell in love with their simple lives and simple joys. They adored his fireworks and stories. A friendship was soon born then, one that would last many centuries and change many fates.
When Gandalf returned to Dol Goldur he found imprisoned there Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain (or he would have been, had he a mountain to rule.) Before Thráin's death he gave Gandalf his only possessions, a key and a map, and his only request: to give both objects to his son, Thorin.
That was all, unfortunately for Thráin, pushed to the back of Gandalf's mind when he discovered that the Necromancer was no mere man, nor even a Nazgûl. No, it was as he feared, much worse than that. The Necromancer was truly Sauron and he had wrested the final of the seven dwarven Rings of Power from Thráin and was now seeking the others.
Gandalf contacted the White Council immediately. He felt his first stirrings of doubt when Saruman declared that they should wait, watch, and act only after they were sure there was a danger. Gandalf knew there was a danger! It was Sauron, of course it was dangerous!
But Saruman disagreed. The One Ring was surely lost to the sea, as everyone knew. Thus, Sauron could never truly rise to power. He was no threat, according to Saruman, and it was better not to act too hastily. To Gandalf's great frustration, the majority of the council seemed to agree with him.
Now though, years had passed and another, older fear had resurfaced — Smaug. No one had heard from the great dragon in years and it was rumored that Thráin's foolish son, Thorin, planned to try to overtake the beast and reclaim his home. Gandalf feared the dragon. It could cause them all a great deal of trouble if it escaped the mountain and turned southward.
Thus, when he chanced upon Thorin in a pub in Bree, he decided to take the chance to speak with him. To his surprise, it was Thorin who started the conversation, citing an urge to speak to him coming from he knew not where. Gandalf was fascinated; he felt the exact same urge.
After speaking to him for a while he discovered that the rumors were true — Thorin did indeed plan on assembling a company to retake the mountain and defeat Smaug. Gandalf knew that though it was a brave and noble quest, it was ultimately also a stupid one. They would all die without a good plan, or reinforcements, or, or, something...
He resigned himself to helping the dwarf after listening to his passionate, desperately homesick speech. Though he was an idiot, Gandalf could not deny that he was a brave idiot and drat it all if he wasn't getting fond of the ridiculous little man. It couldn't be helped, something had to be done.
He convinced Thorin to trust him (which was not so easy as it usually was for one such as Gandalf to do. It took the entire night at the Prancing Pony and the four day walk from Bree straight through the Shire to gain his good opinion.)
Finally though, he won the dwarf's favor and promised to help him in his quest. He made a deal with Thorin to get the final member of their company while Thorin went to negotiate with the other dwarrows of the Blue Mountain for their aid.
This was really all a rather long-winded lead up as to why Gandalf found himself wandering along the winding riverbank of the Shire on the evening of the Elven new year.
Gandalf found Bilbo sitting on a rock with his big, hobbitish feet dangling in the river. Frogs croaked and crickets crooned all around him and the moon shone brightly, illuminating his upturned face and closed eyes. His fingers were buried in the moss covering the rock and in that moment, Gandalf knew Bilbo was the right choice for the quest.
He looked to be one with nature, his golden curls closer to silver in the moonlight. His hands tangling with the rock and plants, his feet dripping with water, and his face full of sky-lust, he was the very picture of peace.
Gandalf breathed out gently, not wanting to disturb the fragile scene. Though not gently enough, it appeared. Bilbo gasped and turned to Gandalf, eyes flying open wide and lips parted in surprise.
"Gandalf! You- You startled me," the hobbit seemed to calm a bit as he slipped off the rock and stepped hesitantly toward the wizard. "What are you doing here? On tonight of all nights?"
Gandalf smiled — this was the Bilbo he knew, blunt and filled to the brim with heart. But then—
"N-not," Bilbo stuttered, face suddenly flushing, "not that you aren't welcome; of course, you're most welcome— err, very welcome. You're a wizard; even if you weren't welcome, you could do what you pleased anyway. Not that you would! I'm not saying that you would! Or wouldn't! I'm not saying either way, just that— "
"My dear Bilbo! What on this fine Middle-Earth ever caused you to be a babbler! My goodness, Bilbo, from the way you speak I would hardly recognize you!"
Bilbo flushed further, all the way to the tips of his pointy ears and down his neck but smartly kept his mouth firmly shut. It made Gandalf smile.
"My dear hobbit, I am here to ask you a favor and to help you. Do not tell me that you do not need help, for you have just proven to me that you do. You are losing your Tookishness, young Baggins, and I won't stand for it. It hasn't even been ten years since dear Belladonna's death and here you are, speaking all respectably. Your mother would never believe it! I hardly can and I'm right here listening to it. That Greenhand was right, something must be done."
"G-Greenhand? You mean Holman? My gardener? Now see here, Gandalf, what does Mr. Greenhand have to do with this? I won't have you ruining his reputation too!"
"I will do no such thing!" Gandalf declared.
"Good, because — "
"If, that is," Gandalf interrupted, "if and only if, you promise to do me my favor."
Bilbo finally smiled, and it transformed his face. Gone was the worry and the properness— the Baggins-ness. Left only was the joy and the Bilbo-ness.
"Dare I ask, O Gandalf of the Greyest of Morals, what favor it is?"
"Bilbo! You have your cheek in you yet, to call me such outright slanderous things! Ah well, you will need that bravery for this favor."
Bilbo tensed slightly, but his eyes — his eyes looked more alive than they'd been the whole conversation.
"And the favor? What is it?"
"Have you anything against dwarrows, dear hobbit?" Gandalf replied. As he knew it would, his cryptic-ness only further intrigued the poor hobbit.
"No, no. I'm quite fascinated by them. There is not much to read on their race as they are said to be so secretive. But... why?"
"My favor is that you host a large company of dwarrows for dinner, and possibly for the night, in a few weeks time. At that point, they will ask of you a request. They will ask that you join them on their journey. My favor is that you would consider saying yes."
"Quite a favor you ask, Mr. Gandalf, for such a small reward," Bilbo teased nervously.
"They will offer you riches beyond your imagination's scope, companionship, titles. But you need none of those things; indeed, you have all of them in the Shire and your comfort and books besides, so I suppose that you are right to wonder why you should agree. However there is one thing that you do not have here, something that you sorely miss, though you may not consciously realize it. Holman realized it and he asked me to help you obtain it. I agreed. It is why I think that, though I ask you to join for selfish reasons, the journey would do you good."
"What is it Gandalf? What am I missing so desperately that I'd go off on such a mad adventure with a company of dwarrows, no less?"
"Adventure, my dear hobbit. Your life is missing an adventure, Bilbo, and I fear what will become of you if you do not get one."
And Gandalf knew, in that moment, that he'd won the argument, from the shattered look of longing in Bilbo's eyes.
***A/N: So the first few chapters should be out rather quickly, as the idea is still fresh in my mind. However, don't expect every update to be this fast. I'm not good enough to be that quick.