Sorry for the delay. I changed my mind on how I wanted to end this story, so I had to rework some things in this chapter. The last one is still in the works.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or The Silmarillion. They belong to the incomparable J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm just playing in his universe.

The hobbit could still hear Gandalf speaking, but he couldn't make out the words anymore. The sights and sounds around him were becoming hazy and muffled, not unlike what he experienced whenever he wore the Ring, though the world did not become shadowed in shades of black and grey. He was starting to feel drowsy, and he knew that when he fell asleep this time, he would remain so, until winter passed and Eredhomë was strong enough without him.

Bilbo jolted awake and screamed when a sharp pain shot straight up his back, forcing him to straighten unnaturally tall. He had little time to catch his breath or brace himself before a second and third shock ran from the base of his spine and through his arms, first his right and then his left, pulling them up and away from his sides. They were outstretched towards the sky, like the great branches of a tree, and remained there, beyond his control. He half imagined that the jerky motions made him look like a marionette controlled by invisible strings, but he had no mind to appreciate the clever comparison.

As with his hands, the internal structures of his back and limbs were being forcibly altered in order to make room and integrate with Eredhomë. Her branches and shoots, which were previously visible just beneath his skin, enlarged and stretched over it, once more tearing his clothes until they were little more than tattered shreds. His joints solidified in place. His head and neck were now that only parts he could still move of his own will.

"...lbo... Bilbo!"

He counted to ten and took deep breaths for several minutes, waiting for the wrenching, stabbing pain to subside. His face was slicked with a sheen of cold sweat, and tears flowed freely in little rivers.

A gentle hand cupped his cheek, and feminine voice implored, "Dartha, mellon! You must not give up! He is coming; Thorin is coming for you! So please, hold on!"

Bilbo lifted his head to find that Tauriel had returned. She was kneeling beside him again, and her eyes were wide with fear.

"T-Tauriel..." he managed. "I-it's okay. It's a-almost over..."

She shook her head. "You must hold on," she commanded. "Please. It was not of a lack of affection that prevented Thorin from seeking you, but rather fear and shame. You cannot fade without knowing the truth."

Bilbo laughed a little. It seemed ironic that the individual he had known for the least amount of time should seem the most desperate to keep him. "P-please don't worry about me," he begged her, not for the first time. "It will be alright. I promise."

"I know you believe that," Tauriel said. "And I know that you will be well received in peace and plenty in the pastures of Yavanna. But what of us? What of those who must wait here, mourning a friend who has gone beyond our reach? What of those who have been enriched by knowing you, and would live in sorrow once you are gone?"

Bilbo inclined his head to lean further into her cupped hand. "You will keep me close... in your memories. And my Eredhomë will live on for me."

Tauriel sat back on her heels and looked away from him. Bilbo smiled fondly through his tears as he remembered the day they were introduced.

Bilbo returned to the waking world in small spurts. The first time he was aware of anything beyond darkness, he saw a glimpse of a yellow light behind several shadows that were leaning over him. His exceptional sense of hearing caught a few snippets of words and phrases. The only ones he remembered were "dwarves", "secret", and "his choice". He promptly passed out again without making any sense of it.

The second time he came to, Gandalf was sitting in a small chair beside his pallet. Bilbo groaned and cleared his throat to get his attention, and the wizard wasted no time in seeing to his needs. He was given water and food, meager and bland, but appreciated nonetheless, and then subjected to a thorough examination from an elven healer he did not recognize.

By the time it was over, he had very little energy to spare on questions, but he did his best to supply enough answers to sate Gandalf for the time being. He dropped off before he got around to telling him anything significant about his little addition, or ask questions of his own.

The final time he woke, he at last felt refreshed and coherent. For a long while, he lay unmoving on his side, away from the entrance to his allotted tent, with a hand on his chest to reassure himself of the life that still grew within him. He felt certain, in part due to Yavanna's warning, that she had grown beyond concealment, and that very little time remained to him. He did not know how long precisely, but it would be in his best interest to try and put his affairs in order before the end.

With that in mind, Bilbo rolled onto his back and stretched his arms over his head, yawning loudly. Then he sat up and tried to rake his fingers through his hair, but a bandage wrapped around his head stopped him. He didn't have a chance to remember the reason for its presence, as the movement drew the notice of the room's other occupant.

"Oh, you are awake. Good morning, Master Halfing."

Bilbo was not surprised to find that he had not been left alone, but he was a little stunned to discover (Kili's) redhaired elf observing him. She was seated on the ground next to the entrance, likely so that she might keep watch over him as well as prevent any unwanted visitors. With his waking, she hopped up, with the grace only elves possessed, and came to stand over him.

"How are you feeling?"

Bilbo shrugged and played with the edges of his blanket. "Better, I suppose, though I'm a little hungry."

"That it is to be expected. You were with the dwarf king for three days, and slept for two, with only one meal over the course of all. Stay here, and I shall see what I can find for you." She left with a wave of her hand.

Bilbo waited dutifully, but he fidgeted and his mind was racing. Was the battle truly over? How much time did he have left? Were the rest of his dwarves okay? Was Thorin recovering?

Incredible as it was, he didn't think he'd be able to eat until he had some answers. He threw aside his blanket and shifted so that he could stand, swaying on his feet from hunger.

She returned just as he was clumsily changing into the dwarf-sized, brown tunic that had been left out for him, bringing with her a steaming bowl of broth with a spoon and a tankard of water. She raised a brow. "Going somewhere?"

Bilbo flushed a little at being caught in his escape attempt. He soothed down the creases of the borrowed clothes and looked around for something further, a coat and a scarf perhaps, that he might at least try to cover himself and his plant better. "I'm really sorry, but I must find my friends. Or Gandalf, at least."

"Peace, Master Halfing. I understand... You must certainly be confused, and have many questions. Mithrandir himself bid me to watch over you and tend to your needs. Please... sit and eat, and I will tell you whatever you wish to know."

Bilbo eyed her dubiously for a minute, but for worry, not for lack of faith. Her willingness to heal Kili of his morgul wound and then later aid him on Ravenhill had more than proven her trustworthiness. He just felt a little uncomfortable, and perhaps a little hurt, that a stranger (more or less) was looking out for him instead of one of his friends.

A wave of dizziness rushed over Bilbo, and he stumbled back to the makeshift bed. "I suppose I don't really have a choice." He plopped down, and didn't bother to hide his glower.

Tauriel smiled down at him as he settled. "I shall endeavor not to take offense at your lack of enthusiasm," she said. She handed him the bowl and tankard, and then sat down near his pallet at a respectable distance.

"Thank you," he said. There was nothing in the broth that he could see, but he started salivating anyway. The last time he was this hungry was when he and the company were lost in Mirkwood. He set aside the spoon and lifted the bowl to his lips.

"You are most welcome. Oh... perhaps you should slow down," she advised.

Bilbo ignored her, and the resulting burns from the hot broth, and consumed the entire bowl in one go. Then he picked up the tankard and gulped down the water. He panted a little when he finished and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, foregoing any measure of decorum in regards to table manners. "Ah... that was wonderful. Thank you. Could I possibly trouble you for seconds?"

Tauriel raised a brow. "Of course, but maybe we should wait a little while. I know you'll need more, but if you consume too much at that rate, you may become ill."

Bilbo snorted. "Clearly, you've never seen a hobbit eat before. It would take a lot more than that to make me sick. We rarely, if ever, get sick because of food, even if it's poisoned.

"Interesting, though you cannot fault me for being ignorant of your gifts. You are the first halfling I've ever encountered."

"Hobbit, if you please," he corrected. "And I understand. My name is Bilbo, by the way. Bilbo Baggins, at your service." He sat up straighter and held out his hand.

She nodded with a smile and offered her own. "Tauriel, of the Woodland Realm, unfortunately known as Mirkwood these days."

They shook hands as Bilbo confessed, "I know who you are, actually, even though this is the first time we've formally met. You saved Kili and the others in Laketown." He decided not to mention anything of his excursion through their kingdom, or the role he had played in freeing the Company from Thranduil's prison. He wasn't sure if she knew about that, but if not, he was not going to be the one to tell her. It was never a good idea to antagonize immortal beings.

To his surprise, her pale cheeks became a little less pale, and she glanced away from him. "Did Kili tell you that?"

Bilbo let himself smirk in response. "Indeed, among other things..."

Tauriel cleared her throat and composed herself. "Well then, you know of me, but I know nothing of you. As I said, I've never met a hobbit before. If it's not too much trouble, would you be willing to indulge my curiosity for a time? I should like to know more about you, if you're amenable."

Bilbo reciprocated her friendly expression and agreed. "Of course! I'm actually rather flattered by the interest. But first, could you please tell me of my friends, and the battle?"

"Oh, yes. Forgive me; I'd forgotten. You must be terribly worried..."

For a long while, she answered his questions and filled him in on current events, as well as report on the wellbeing of his traveling companions. The battle had indeed been won; with Azog's death, the rest of the orc army was decimated, and many fled back to the mountains, hate pursued. The truce between men, elves, and dwarves was holding, for the time being, thanks in large part to Gandalf's counsel and Bilbo's selfless acts.

Thranduil had surprised many by tending to Thorin's wounds alongside the dwarven healers, and though there was still a great deal of mistrust, it went a long way towards easing the tension between the two races. After Thorin had been stabilized, he was removed back to the safety of Erebor, along with the rest of his Company and Dain's army from the Iron Hills. Bard and his men, as well as Thranduil and his retainers, retreated to Dale, but the vast majority of the elves camped outside of the city, to serve as a guard for the former residents of Laketown.

That was where Bilbo and Tauriel currently were, because no one seemed to know just what to do with either of them. Both had been offered forgiveness for their actions, but their banishments had not been officially lifted. Until they were, they would have to content themselves with waiting, unless some other event or deed helped their cause.

"Mithrandir was adamant that you not be disturbed until you were well enough to voice your own opinions concerning your fate. He seemed most distressed when he became aware of your... condition." Her eyes flicked to his chest meaningfully.

Bilbo's looked down at his lap. "I see."

"Master Baggins, may I ask how you came to be in this state? Do all hobbits have such strange designs upon their skin?" Tauriel asked.

He blinked at her for a moment before he remembered that she was wholly ignorant of his situation. "It's not exactly a design..."

"My lord Legolas called it 'the gift of Yavanna', but he would not tell me what it means. I have neither seen nor heard of such a strange occurrence, but - as I've said - I know very little of hobbits."

Bilbo considered ignoring her questions, or stretching the truth a bit. At this point, he had grown rather tired of repeating himself, and part of him wanted to just give up on absolutely everything. Yet, he could hardly resist such an earnest and eager face, and it might be nice to finally tell someone the whole story and confide his feelings in one who might understand, in a way.

"Well, Tauriel..."

He began his story by giving her some background of hobbits in general, that she might better comprehend the nature of his race. He followed that by launching into the tale that determined his fate, reciting it now to its conclusion. "...If their feelings were mutual and they were willing to devote themselves wholly to each other, they would each recite vows of eternal love. This vow would be a prayer and a spell that invokes the power of Yavanna and the blessings of all the Valar, and it was the means by which the growing plants would be transplanted from their bodies into the earth, and thus the union solidified.

"The hobbits were quite excited by the offer, but before they could agree, Yavanna warned them that this course was not without risk. There would be no alternative way offered to remove the seed from their bodies, if their love was not reciprocated. And just as a plant could outgrow and forcefully shatter its clay pot, overrun its bounds, or steal life from others around it, so it could do to them. If it was not removed from their bodies, it would take them over and consume them, because the power of Yavanna, of stubborn growth and resilience, was in it. Their lives would end, and their spirits would go to the place decreed for them. But the life of the plant would carry on.

"Even so, the hobbits' love of all growing things, and their desire to see the world restored outweighed the risks, and they thought the whole idea poignantly beautiful. They consented and submitted their all to Yavanna, to use as she would to heal the world."

Tauriel contemplated the narrative for a bit. "Then... you will die, if the growing seed is not transplanted?"

"Yes," Bilbo affirmed. "The plants that Yavanna put in us are stronger than any other, partly because of the love and life it takes from us."

"How much time do you have?"

Bilbo rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. "Hard to say. The seeds develop according to the depth of the love we feel, and the length of time it takes for it to truly take root. The feelings can take a long time to develop beyond infatuation or friendliness, and if so, the plant will grow very slowly. But I've heard stories of some almost exploding in a way, because of love-at-first-sight."

He sighed and hugged his knees to his chest. "As for me, my time has been shortened because of what happened at Ravenhill. Yavanna told me that Eredhomë could help save Thorin, but she'd have to take more of my life to do so." Bilbo pulled the collar of his tunic open a little to look down at his torso. "Judging by how far she's come, I might have a few weeks left, at most."

"That's still plenty of time, isn't it? Your dwarf king only needs to recite the vows, correct? Surely he can handle that, no matter his injury," Tauriel said.

Bilbo laughed. "Unfortunately, that's not going to work. Simply saying the words means nothing; they must come from the heart and be sincere, with a pledge of pure devotion behind it. And Thorin... well... he doesn't love me. So either way, the end was inevitable."

The elf narrowed her eyes. "And that's it? You'll willingly accept death as your only option?" When he shrugged, she declared, "That hardly seems fair. Is there no regret or disdain in your heart that you should perish while Thorin lives on?"

"Not at all," he said. "Well... I won't deny that his rejection broke my heart. And I am afraid of how everything will come to pass. But I'm not really upset about dying, if that's what you mean. My Eredhomë will continue to grow once I'm gone, and because of Lady Yavanna's power, she'll be able to help bring life back to the desolate lands around us." He smiled down at his plant proudly. "When she's old enough to produce seeds or flowers, they'll scatter and take root more quickly than normal seeds. Their life will nurture the land, and someday, it'll all be green again."

Bilbo looked into Tauriel's eyes. "While the men and dwarves rebuild the homes they've lost, I can help be a part of "rebuilding" the land itself. And that, in turn, will help everyone, including Thorin, though they might not understand that. Why should I be angry or sad? It's just a fulfillment of what I am. So... I don't really mind."

Tauriel stared at him in wonderment for a long time. Eventually, she shook her head. "I have tarried too long in the woods of my people. I see now that I am wholly ignorant of the world, for never have I thought to encounter such a wondrous creature. You freely accept who and what you are, and yet you still cling to an impossible love."

Bilbo smirked at her. "Yes, well... those dwarves, especially ones from the line of Durin, have a strange way of endearing themselves to others, don't they?"

She giggled and blushed a little when he winked suggestively. "I suppose they do at that."

"Anyway..." Bilbo began with a small sigh, "I think that's enough of that. Will you tell me more of yourself? You're the first Mirkwood elf I've had the pleasure of speaking to without battle or treachery hanging over me. I'd love to hear a tale or two of your own, or at least of your people."

Tauriel consented. "Certainly; I'd be honored to share some of my history with you, mellon... if I may consider you as such."

"I'd be honored," Bilbo repeated. "Um... but perhaps I could have something of a second breakfast first?"

Both of them laughed, and in the days that followed, Bilbo and Tauriel formed a fast friendship. Once he had regained his strength, he aided her in any chores she imposed upon herself, no matter how low or undesirable.

In one such instance, he assisted a group of men and elves, who were tasked with digging several great pits in which to dispose of the decaying bodies of orcs and wargs. In one of them, he waited until he'd been left alone, and then, with great force of will, he cast the Ring in. It was quickly covered by corpses, which were then burned and buried over it. He didn't know why, but he felt far lighter for being rid of it. Somehow, he knew that Eredhomë felt the same.

He received few messages from the dwarves of Erebor, and none came to see him. That, more than his impending doom, grieved him the most. Gandalf visited him whenever he could, but being a wizard, he was busy with many things. He tried to convince Bilbo to accompany him to the negotiations between the three races, but he wanted no part of it.

Through it all, Tauriel was a steady companion. She became convinced that there must be some error, or that there should be some way to save him yet, but he continually assured her that there was not.

But that it was alright. She was there for him, and that was enough. It gave him great comfort to have such a wonderful friend and confidante in his last, lonely days.

Or so he told himself.

Elvish Translation:

Dartha mellon - wait, friend

Thanks for reading! Until next time!