Before the Erebor mission, Bilbo used to be a decisive soul. Once he set his mind to something, he went for it wholeheartedly. The arrival of Gandalf and the Company that fateful night changed that. Sure, the Took part of him demanded he go with the Company. It was a heady temptation. The Baggins part effectively ended his days as decisive. It upheld his sensibilities and common sense, reminding Bilbo that this was not his business. Why should he risk his life for a mountain he had no claim to? Took put up a fight and ultimately won when Bilbo ran out of Bag End to catch up to the Company. The journey to the mountain forced Bilbo to make decisions that had life-or-death consequences. These were a far cry from the simple decisions made in Hobbiton. It was not until the Arkenstone fiasco that Bilbo questioned his decision-making. Every choice was reexamined, not just the ones made during the journey. His choice to remain on Mount Erebor to fight in the ensuing bloodbath ranked as one of his dumbest. He left as per Thorin's demands, wondering if running off with the Company had been a good idea. The Baggins part of him berated him the whole journey back while the lack of fire from the Took half said enough for Bilbo.
Now he sat, pondering choices that would haunt him forever. Before him was a weapon that could help halt the bloodshed. If he put the Ring on, his own powers would be multiplied infinitely. He could easily stop Smaug and anyone else causing chaos. The Ring was the best way to shorten the bloodshed. Still, questions swirled in his head.
Why should he put on the Ring? What difference would he make? Why not just wait and let the fools fight it out themselves? Why should he risk his neck for people who cared more for trinkets than peace?
This final question kept him seated. He reminded himself of his oath after his banishment. As he slowly descended the mountain, he swore to never involve himself in the affairs of other nations. His thanks came as injury and exile. He had no fond memories of the leaders. Despite the excuse of mental illness, Thorin was of clear mind when he chose gold over friendship. Thranduil cared more for regaining his people's wealth from Thorin. Bard kindly showed Bilbo the border after Bilbo handed over his reward of gold and money. He had not even the decency to allow Bilbo to rest in his city. Even Gandalf abandoned him. Bilbo rued the day he ever greeted the meddlesome fool in the garden of Bag End. Only Elrond was remembered with kindness. The great Confederation leader allowed Bilbo to spend as long as he needed in his homeland until he was fully healed and rested.
His former neighbors in Hobbiton were another reason he remained seated. If his banishment was not bad enough, his treatment upon return was worse. His beloved home has been auctioned off and nearly all of his possessions were stolen by unscrupulous neighbors. His attempts to regain Bag End and his possessions were stonewalled by the Mayor and the Sackville-Baggins clan. Through niceties and politeness, they reminded Bilbo it was his own fault he was now homeless. Bag End was too valuable a home to leave empty. He did, though, have a pseudo-final laugh. Bag End never ended up in Lobelia's clutches. The new owners were the Gamgees. Hamfast wanted to give it back to Bilbo, but the latter had not the heart to steal from a family with a brood of little ones. Bilbo packed up what remained of his possessions and moved to the border. A border that would be destroyed if he did not make up his mind.
We don't see what's so hard about it. You have the power to bring Smaug to his knees. You're not the type to simply stand by and allow innocents to die.
Bilbo looked at the Ring. That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who has endanger your neck just to save people because idiots didn't do their job.
He received the impression the Ring was pondering his words. After a moment's pause, it spoke.
You speak not from fear, but from deep anger. An anger your sensibilities refuse to unleash and one that we would happily increase in battle. Your anger stems not from the fallout of the Battle, but at yourself.
Of course, I'm angry! snapped Bilbo. He leaned forward. I was stupid enough to believe the promise of adventure and look where that got me! I lost my home, my possessions, and my friends. I tried to help and all I got were wounds and exile. To top it all of, I earned the eternal hatred of a king because I stole some bloody rock! So excuse me for not being keen on risking my hide for fools who turned their backs on me!
The Ring sighed. All the more reason to go out and fight. You can make those fools rue the day they cast you aside. You can receive all the honors-
It's not about the honor or the glory! If I go out there, it would be to protect and defend. To know that I did the best that I could.
Then why are you still sitting here? Go out and battle Smaug and defend those lives!
Bilbo huffed in exasperation. By this point, the distant booms were now pure thunderous waves. They rolled over the city like an aerial tsunami. Bilbo pressed his foot to the floor and felt his leg shake. He reached for the radio, flicked it on, and tried the dial once more. Static poured out of the speaker. He turned it off and shoved it aside. Realization began to sink in. The thunder was likely artillery fire from the armed units near the Brandywine Bridge. The ferocity of it meant that something was near. To make matters worse, the volume indicated it was proving stubborn to deal with. Bilbo, still torn, decided to listen.
He had no idea how long he sat listening to the thunderous cacophony. It ebbed and peaked in volume and speed. There were steady booms, echoing cannonades, and rolling roars. Elegant bursts were followed by sporadic concussions. Vast silences indicated a rapid rearmament. The period that sounded like a fireworks show disturbed Bilbo the most. The resultant waves rattled everything in their path. Everything in the kitchen rattled and vibrated. A fine shower of dust fell from the ceiling. The window began to rattle violently. Bilbo moved back in his seat, fearing it would break. His ears winced as the glass screeched and shook. There was a brief lull before a massive boom. Every part of Bilbo's being cringed.
I wonder what's going on? Bilbo's tone was quiet and hesitant.
The perimeter units have launched some fancy missile at Smaug. It's knocked him out and they're preparing to launch more volleys at him if he wakes up. Unfortunately, they've little time because he's stirring.
Bilbo groaned. Missiles were not going to stop Smaug. It was only a union of dumb luck and Bard's unerring eye that he had been captured in the first place. To stop Smaug, a challenger needed a connection to the elements. A connection Bilbo possessed.
Bilbo looked at the Ring. He knew he could easily stop Smaug with the Ring's aid. His powers would be amplified to the point where he could challenge his former foe. He knew Smaug would gladly welcome the opportunity to face Bilbo on more equal footing. Yet he hesitated. His heart and good sense still warred.
'Let the strong deal with them,' ordered his good sense. 'Gondor and Rohan screwed up. This is their mess.'
'Thousands have already died,' stated his heart. 'No one has the strength to stop Smaug.'
'This isn't our fight,' said his good sense. 'Let the strong deal with him.'
His heart's next words were directly to Bilbo. 'Can you live with yourself if you let this madness continue? Can you live with yourself because you're still mad at one fool?'
There was a pause.
"No," muttered Bilbo as he stood up. "No, I can't."
He made his decision.
O.O
Sauron stood still beneath the canopy of a dying tree. For a moment, he wondered if Lady Fate would be so cruel as to taunt him so soon. Within his mind, the presence of the Ring glowed bright. It was a gleeful specter, reminding him of his failure to keep it in his possession. Its teasing presence amplified the anger he felt towards the worm who now wore it.
While imprisoned, Sauron plotted the death of whoever possessed his Ring. Though it was lost, he knew it was not gone. He knew not who possessed it as his powers were diminished, but his link to it remained whole. He knew it has been hidden, coveted, killed over, wept over, and used by something unworthy of it. No one save him was worthy to wear that golden band. No one understood the power that coursed within it. Now the worm who had preserved for so long was wearing it. Sauron's link flared and he eagerly sought the mind of the worm. To his shock, the Ring blocked his attempts and was shielding the worm.
This was unacceptable.
"Master, what are your orders?"
Sauron did not bother turning around. He knew Annatar was seeking any excuse to undermine his authority now that he had tasted power. The Ring's usage by a lowly mortal would provide that.
"Inform the Angmaris that their time is now. They are to attack whatever city is in their path and raze it. They have full permission to do whatever they wish to the inhabitants."
"What of the were-wargs and the Orc packs?"
"Have them follow the Angmaris. They have full permission to seize as many females as they want for their breeding purposes."
"What of me?"
"Go to Smaug and help him destroy whatever is in his path."
Annatar's disapproval rolled off in waves, but Sauron cared little.
"And what of you?" asked Annatar eventually. "What are you to do?"
"My time has not yet come, but rest assured that I will join you all," said Sauron. "Now leave me."
Annatar departed silence, leaving Sauron alone. Once he was sure of his solitude, Sauron closed his eyes. The Ring's image danced at the forefront of his mind. It mocked his attempts to learn the identity of the bearer.
"You will be mine again," swore Sauron.
The Ring simply laughed.