Now:

In the morning, Bilbo rose early to tend to her guests. They wanted to leave early, which suited her just fine. Bilbo had absolutely no desire to linger in the Shire and risk encountering any of her neighbors as the Company began their journey.

It pained her to admit it, but the more she thought about it, the more certain Bilbo became that she was, in fact, running away like the coward she was. She could feel her cheeks growing warm in shame just at the thought of it.

She never used to be someone who ran from anything.

A lot of things had changed.

As she bustled about the kitchen, putting on the kettle for tea and using what was left of her pantries (which wasn't much) to whip up a quick breakfast for fifteen, Bilbo thought about the letter she needed to write.

She had meant to write it before going to bed, but the right words had eluded her. Still did, in fact. How was she supposed to explain to the love of her life that she was abandoning him for a quest? For an adventure that would drag her halfway across Middle Earth and likely to her death? It was bad enough that she had spent the past week avoiding him. Now she was fleeing the Shire without warning to do something she'd promised she never would, leaving behind only a pathetic note. A note, she knew, that would be filled with half truths and outright lies, because she could not bare to admit the real reason she was leaving.

A deep, cold self-loathing was burrowing into the crater of her chest with every moment that she spent thinking about it.

Somewhere behind her in the smial, the floorboards creaked under the heavy weight of booted feet. Bilbo whirled around, eyes wide. One of her hands flew up to clutch at her chest as she tried to convince her heart that it wasn't necessary to race so fast. It was only one of the Dwarves, she was sure, and Gandalf had said she had no reason to fear them.

Bilbo was so busy trying to calm herself that she didn't notice a large Dwarf amble into the kitchen.

"Miss Baggins?"

Bilbo jumped slightly, then flushed brightly. She was not typically so easy to startle, and these Dwarves walked so loudly that one could hear them coming from the other end of the smial. They shouldn't have been able to surprise her.

"Master Dwarf!" Bilbo huffed, laughing slightly at her overreaction. "You startled me!"

"My apologies, Miss Baggins," said the large Dwarf, shifting guiltily. "That wasn't my intention. I only wanted to see if I could help at all."

"No, no," Bilbo protested, "you all have done far too much work already! Thank you for the offer, but it's truly not necessary."

The Dwarf nodded reluctantly. "If you need anything, you need only call."

"Thank you," said Bilbo again. She paused, brow furrowing. "I'm afraid I've quite forgotten your name."

The Dwarf laughed with a jolly smile. "Bombur, Miss Baggins."

Bombur stayed in the kitchen and chatted with Bilbo while she prepared breakfast. She discovered that he was the Company's cook and shared her love of cooking. The conversation turned easily into an exchange of favorite foods, recipes, and tricks of the trade. By the time the Dwarves had been fed, packed, and were prepared to leave, Bilbo was exponentially more comfortable around the Dwarves.

But she still had not written her letter.

"Please, go on," she ushered when she realized the Dwarves had gathered in her sitting room again. They looked expectant, ready to depart, standing by their packs as they were. "I need just a few moments to settle my final affairs and lock up Bag End, but I don't wish to hold you back."

Thorin looked at her sternly, the corners of his mouth turned down. "We will not wait for you to catch up," he said, looking down his nose at her.

After a moment, he turned and made for the front door, the rest of the Company following obediently after. Bombur and the Dwarf with an ax in his head lingered until the others had departed, shooting Bilbo apologetic smiles.

Bilbo closed her front door behind them, then let out a long, gusty breath.

"Alright, Bilbo," she muttered to herself, clasping her hands together, "time to figure out how to say goodbye."

.

Then:

Bilbo leapt over fences with practiced ease, eyes firmly locked on her destination. Her heart was fluttering in her chest like a caged bird about to be free and she was breathless from excitement as much as from running.

"Freddie!" she called as she neared the Proudfoot home. Her grin had infected her voice. "Freddie!"

The door swung open right as Bilbo skidded to a stop in front of it. Fredegar stepped out, sporting a befuddled smile, for he always found Bilbo's smiles to be infectious even when he wasn't sure what had caused them.

"Freddie!" shrieked Bilbo in delight, grin growing. She bounced on her toes eagerly, leaning forward to proclaim, "The bounders said Gandalf the Gray has been spotted near Bree!"

She tossed back her hair, eyes shining with glee. "Do you remember him? He was a friend of my mother's, the one she went adventuring with!"

Bilbo paused when Fredegar said nothing, and when she looked to him her excitement faltered. He was holding himself rigidly, hands clenched into fists at his side and his brows furrowed. He was displeased.

"If I leave in the morning I might be able to catch him," Bilbo offered halfheartedly, holding on to the slight hope that Fredegar wasn't truly unhappy with the idea of her adventuring.

There was a moment of quiet between them, Fredegar standing rigid with displeasure and Bilbo's happiness slowly withering.

"You want to leave me," he said finally, voice low and flat.

Bilbo curled in on herself slightly, feeling guilty. "That's not it at all," she protested unhappily. "I just want to go on an adventure like my mother did."

"Oh Bilbo," Fredegar said mournfully, "I wish I was enough to make you want to stay."

Bilbo's eyes flickered to his in astonishment, then away again in shame at the misery she saw there. "You are," she said, voice a near whisper. "You are, Freddie… It just- it would only be for a little while."

Silence reigned between them for another long moment. When Bilbo raised her gaze again, Fredegar shoved his hands in his pockets and gave her a tight smile.

"You should go," he said finally, to Bilbo's surprise. But his voice was sad and Bilbo got the impression that she'd disappointed him terribly. "Go adventure like your mother did."

"But I don't want to leave you unhappy," said Bilbo miserably, heart torn in two.

"It's fine," he said, shrugging. "Your happiness is what really matters, not mine."

Bilbo's throat was thick with emotion. Fredegar was always putting her wants and needs before his and it always made her feel so selfish.

"No," she said decisively. She swallowed hard, forced the words to come, "I won't leave you behind for some nasty, uncomfortable adventure. Not now, not ever."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

.

Now:

The 27th of Astron, in the year 2941

Dearest Fredegar,

I am sorry that I'm leaving you with only this paltry letter as a goodbye. It is not sufficient enough to express my gratitude for all that your friendship has meant to me, but it will have to do. I'm afraid that if I were to say goodbye in person, I would lose my nerve and you would convince me to stay.

You know that I used to dream of adventure, of following in my mother's footsteps. I know that I promised never to leave you behind for an adventure, but it seems I can no longer be a Hobbit of my word. Gandalf the Gray has asked me to help him in a quest that will take me far from the Shire. An opportunity such as this comes only once in a lifetime, so I must seize it before it is gone. I'm sorry to be so unfaithful.

I am not sure when I will return or, indeed, if I will return at all. This quest is dangerous but noble and I suspect it will be worth any consequences. I cannot ask you to wait for me, or to put your life on hold for the slim chance I might return in a few years. So I ask instead that you find happiness with someone else. Perhaps that is too much to ask of you after all the years that we have been in love, but I ask it nonetheless.

I have left the deed to Bag End, signed over to my Took family with the stipulation that it not be inhabited until two years have passed since my departure and I am, thusly, presumed dead.

I hope that I will return one day to reclaim Bag End and beg your forgiveness for parting in such a way and for leaving you to deal with the fallout, but I know it is unlikely. I am sorry.

With all my love,

Bilbo Baggins

.

Then:

"Where have you been, Bilbo?"

Fredegar's voice was deceptively calm. Bilbo knew him well enough to know that he was angry.

She observed him carefully in the sunlight that streamed in through the trees. He was holding himself tightly, his jaw set and his neck stiff. As she watched, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I spent the morning with Petunia," she said obediently, her shoulders slumping in the face of his anger. Fredegar always wished to know where she'd been and who she had been spending time with. He usually wasn't angry though, just attentive. "I'm afraid I stayed a little longer than I had meant to."

"You always think about only yourself, don't you, Bilbo?" he sighed, disappointed.

Guilt surged through her. "I'm sorry, Freddie."

After brief hesitation, Bilbo started for the gate to the garden. She had only just arrived to visit with Fredegar but it made her uncomfortable when he was like this. It put her on high alert, made her wary. She would come back after he had calmed down.

Fredegar stepped in front of the gate before she could leave, blocking her path with arms still crossed. His hands curled into fists. He stared down at her, eyes somewhere between sad and angry.

"I thought you had run off after that Valar-forsaken Wizard," he ground out miserably. "Why must you always make me worry, Bilbo? Why do you always make things so difficult?"

Bilbo tried to hold her ground, but her shoulders crept upward toward her ears without her permission. She had lain awake most of the night, thinking back on their fight and wondering how she could make it up to him. She knew she ought to have called on him first thing this morning, rather than wasting time with Petunia. "I told you I wouldn't leave. I wouldn't do that to you."

"I can't live without you. When I thought you were gone, it made me want to die."

Bilbo felt her heart clench. She had caused Fredegar so much pain, and the guilt threatened to swallow her whole. Bilbo reached forward, placing an gentle hand on his arm.

"Please don't say such things, Freddie," she implored, looking up at him with earnest eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

.

Now:

The Company passed by the town of Bree on the tenth day of their travels. Bilbo, much to Thorin's displeasure, requested that they stop so she might purchase some supplies.

"Are all Hobbits so ill-suited to travel?" he commented with a sneer, even as he turned his pony up the road to the town.

"Ill-suited to travel?" muttered Bilbo under her breath, irritated. "You try packing for a long journey with only a few hours' notice and we'll see how ill-suited you are. With an empty pantry to boot."

She huffed and was echoed by a malcontented pony underneath her. Bilbo realized she had been pulling tightly on the reins in her annoyance and relaxed her grip with an apologetic pat to the pony's neck.

When the Company reached the edge of the town, Thorin called the Company to a halt.

"If you do not return within the hour, you will be left behind," he told Bilbo, not even deigning to glance in her direction.

Bilbo, about to dismount from her pony, paused. Her nostrils flared as she tried to reign in her anger. She wished she had the nerve to confront Thorin, to tell him off for treating her so poorly. After all, the contract clearly stated she had three hours. But she had always been meek when it came to confrontation, mostly because she hated rousing Fredegar's anger and hated disappointing him even more.

There was no way she could disappoint Thorin, given how little he thought of her already, but she was still wary of the temper she had caught glimpses of so far on the journey.

She had no words (or, rather, no voice or courage with which to speak) so Bilbo merely gave a sharp nod and, when she had finished dismounting, handed the reins to a stone-faced Bifur. She strode into Bree as quickly as she could without it looking like she was fleeing.

"I welcomed your company into my home," she muttered to herself when she was sure she was out of earshot of the Dwarves. She relished in the idea of the surprise on the Dwarven king's face if she spoke thusly to him (not that she ever would, she was sure), "and fed them everything I had with no notice. You'll have to excuse me if my empty pantries did not magically replenish themselves so I might pack adequate supplies for myself."

Bilbo strode through the mud and the muck of the streets of Bree, heading for the center of town where she knew the market to be. Her anger was still great and she hoped she would manage to calm herself before she had to return to the Dwarves.

"If you take issue with my desire not to starve on this journey, you may consult the contract which you approved."

She cut through a side street, and almost immediately regretted it. This little street held the entrance to a stable (and not one of the nicer ones, by the looks of it). The hooves of horses and ponies and the wheels of their carts had left deep ruts and craters filled with gooey mud, deep enough that it threatened to pull her in like quicksand.

The mud squelched up between her toes and clung to the hair on her poor feet. With every step, Bilbo's mood grew more and more foul. Not only must she now conduct her business with her feet an utter disgrace, but she would also have to spend the better part of the evening grooming them.

This was all Thorin's fault, she was sure of it.

"Hello, sweet."

Bilbo startled, turning toward the voice and flushing bright red at the thought that someone had heard her speaking to herself.

It was a drunkard, lingering in the alley beside a rather dingy looking pub. He gripped a tankard in one grubby hand, sloshing ale with every stumbling step he took.

"Be glad to make ye forget wh'ever yer mad at," he said with a leer, stumbling closer to Bilbo. He reached out a hand and plucked at her blouse with dirt-stained fingers.

Bilbo was suddenly aware of how much taller than her the man was and how much stronger he must be. He loomed over her, swaying closer and closer. His breath reeked of alcohol and it absolutely terrified Bilbo.

"Don't touch me!" Bilbo gasped out, not sure when the air had left her lungs. She hoped she could find it again so she could scream.

The man only lumbered further into Bilbo's space. On instinct, the Hobbit quickly ducked underneath his arm and began to run. She didn't care where she was going or where she ended up, as long as it was away. Away from the unwanted touches and the stench of alcohol heavy on his breath. Away-

Was he following her?

She glanced back and saw no one. She was almost to the market, just one more street over now and then she would be… Safe? No, not safe. Never safe. Less likely to be attacked again, Bilbo supposed, and hurried onward.

.

Bilbo rushed through the streets a half hour later, sticking to the well-populated areas and taking no short cuts. She was missing half of the items she had hoped to purchase and had spent a great deal more than she should have, being too distracted to haggle properly. She was surprised that she had not descended into a panic attack in the wake of what happened in the alleyway, but her mind seemed to be consumed by a singular thought. Get back to the Company.

She at least had enough presence of mind to pause for a moment outside of the town. She had to pull herself together or else the Company would know how weak and fragile she was.

It didn't matter if she felt like shattered glass, as long as no one else could see her cracks.

.

Now:

The clashing of swords and the quiet grunts were what caught Bilbo's attention. She looked up from where she had been sitting quietly away from the rest of the company, distracting herself from the loneliness by mending a small tear in her traveling cloak.

Fili and Kili were both grinning as they sparred, moving so quickly that Bilbo could hardly tell what was happening at all. They moved with a grace that was quite incredible and neither seemed to hesitate even for the barest of seconds.

A few other members of the company were gathered around them. Nori and Bifur were huddled together, speaking quietly. Bilbo hadn't grown very close to any members of the company but she had observed them enough to guess that these two Dwarves were probably betting.

In the weeks since the quest had begun, many of the Dwarves had held Bilbo at arm's length. They weren't certain what to make of the little hobbit who had threatened a warrior with nothing more than a kitchen knife but didn't know the first thing about riding or caring for a pony. Most of the Dwarves had, at some point, asked Bilbo why she had joined the quest. Unwilling and unable to utter the truth, Bilbo could only shrug and make halfhearted excuses. The Dwarves were not impressed.

Bombur, Bifur, and Bofur were the most welcoming of the Company and they had, since the first night, invited Bilbo to join them for dinner every evening without fail. Their easy conversation in Bag End had built a framework for friendship between Bilbo and Bombur, and Bofur's easy-going nature meant he formed fast friendships with everyone he came across. Bifur, who could speak only in gestures and the language of the Dwarves, did not allow the language barrier to prevent him from taking part in dinnertime conversation. He would gesture or mutter lowly to his cousins, who would translate for Bilbo.

Despite these friendships, Bilbo was lonely. She didn't wish to monopolize Bombur, Bifur, and Bofur's time, nor did she wish to overstay her welcome by riding with them or presuming to sit with them when not invited.

So she often rode alone or sat alone, as she was now, and watched the Dwarves.

Quite suddenly, Kili landed on his back in the dirt with Fili's sword at his throat. After a moment, Fili sheathed his sword and reached out a hand to pull his brother up. He gave a proud exclamation in the Dwarves' language, grin growing. Kili rolled his eyes but let himself be pulled to his feet.

Bilbo glanced back down at her cloak, brow furrowed as she thought. She had fought only once before, in the most dire of circumstances. During the Fell Winter she had taken up the ax her mother had fought with and killed a white wolf. But it hadn't been enough to save her mother. Since then, she had fought not with knives or fists or anything else but words.

She hadn't been strong enough to save her mother, and hadn't been strong enough to save herself either. The close call with the drunkard in Bree lingered in her mind, too. Perhaps if she learned to fight she would never feel so helpless again.

Before she could change her mind, Bilbo rose to her feet and marched over to Fili and Kili. The other Dwarves had already dispersed.

"Miss Boggins!" Kili exclaimed with a grin as she approached.

Bilbo smiled nervously back. Afraid she would lose her nerve if she tarried any longer, she blurted out, "If it isn't too much trouble, I'd like to learn to fight."

The boys' grins turned mischievous, which only made Bilbo more nervous.

"You've come to the right Dwarves!" exclaimed Fili.

"We'll start small," Kili decided, turning to his brother.

"Throwing knives?"

A nod. "And basic knifework. Hand to hand?"

"Good idea."

The two turned back to Bilbo, looking at her intently. In unison, they nodded decisively and Fili declared, "Let's get started."

"N-now?" stammered Bilbo, eyes wide.

In response, Fili only grinned and produced a knife from somewhere on his person - he moved too quickly for Bilbo to see where it came from - and held it out to her, hilt first.

That evening, Kili and Fili spent the last of the daylight teaching Bilbo proper stance and grip. Though their mischievous looks had made Bilbo wary, she found that the two Dwarves were very focused and patient teachers. They were both hovering a little too closely for Bilbo's comfort, crowding close to her, but they corrected and guided her so kindly that she couldn't find it in herself to fault them for it.

When it grew too dark to continue, Bilbo tried to hand back to Fili the throwing knife he had lent her.

"Keep it," he said, pressing it back into her hand and curling her fingers around the hilt. "We were remiss in not giving you something before now."

"Right," she muttered to herself as Fili walked away. "Let's give the Hobbit a sharp knife and hope she doesn't maim anyone by accident. Brilliant idea, really. What could possibly go wrong?"