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When Viola, his wife of several months, told him that her friends Donnamira and Marigold asked her to come round for some lady-bonding time again, he almost jumped at the opportunity to have some fish for dinner again. Sure, he would miss his lovely lass, who could still make him flustered with just a look and a small smile, but a man had other needs (as much as blasphemous that sounded) but being flustered by his woman.
And for Bilbo, it was the need to have fish for dinner once in a while. While he absolutely adored the dish, Viola would just scrunch her nose over it, picking other foods for her meal, if he prepared it and he would miss the small smiles they would exchange, as they would feed each other with small pieces of their food.
Of course, the whole day didn't go as he planned it out.
First, his inner balance got disturbed by Gandalf the Grey, the magician extraordinaire, famous for his fireworks at Old Took's parties, who had the gall to ask him to go on an adventure. Him! Baggins of Bag End, a happily married man!
But that certainly wasn't the worst that could have happened to him yet. Oh no. It came later, on the evening, when slowly bunch of rowdy dwarves forced their way into Bag End, the first one of them eating his fish unapologetically, even ordering him around.
It was absolutely awful; to be so disrespected by his uninvited guests, but part of him was actually glad that Viola was not there. She might have been able to make short work with all of them, being a seasoned barmaid from Green Dragon's Inn. Yet, Bilbo wouldn't have wished for her to see all of those precious items of both their families being tossed around as if it they were completely worthless, instead of priceless.
And Gandalf, blast that thrice damned wizard back to where he came from, just watched it all with indulgent smile and did exactly nothing to stop them.
Bilbo never felt as humiliated as he felt when their esteemed leader finally appeared, and insulted him even before he entered his smial properly. He felt for the dwarves; being ran out of your ancestral home sure is nothing pleasant, he thought, but at the same time, if this Thorin Oakenshield always chose this tone to ask for help, it was no real wonder that nobody could be bothered to actually help him.
Not to mention, he thought with an icy hand gripping his heart, if he actually went with those dwarves, it would mean that Viola would return to empty smial, with no idea where he is.
"No. You've got wrong hobbit, Gandalf. I'm sorry," he said resolutely, laying the contract on the table and leaving for his bedroom. The dwarves started singing a song about the Lonely Mountain, and Bilbo had sneaking suspicion they sang it in Westron to play on his feelings and guilt trip him to join them, but no song, no matter how pretty and heart-strings-tugging could make him leave his wife behind.
No song.
-o.O.o-
Of course, in the end it wasn't the song that made him leave the Shire and join the rowdy bunch of dwarves on their quest. It was his wife, who took one look at him when she returned from her ladies night, and after she read the contract (snickering at some of the points written there, as if it was something funny); she looked up and told him: "So, when are you leaving?"
He told her why he couldn't leave. Why he can't leave.
She just gave him a smile, before she handed him the contract together with a quill. "Silly," she said, fondness lacing her voice. "For your whole life you had always been dreaming about going on an adventure, and now you have the opportunity to go on one." Taking his face into her palms, caressing her thumbs over his cheekbones, she whispered: "Do not let me take this dream away from you for nothing. Take your pack, silly, and go."
He was packed in record time, even if Viola forced him to show her what he packed, and added several things while removing several others. When she stopped him in order to tuck a handkerchief into his pocket, he thought he couldn't love her even more than he already.
In the next weeks he would often think of her, as she stood in the door of the Bag End, waving her farewells after him, as he ran after the dwarves, who certainly didn't do anything to make him at least tiny bit welcome during those weeks.
Quite curious, he found himself thinking, how the books had never shown this side of adventuring - unfriendly company and lack of experiences in life out of one's home.
-o.O.o-
By the time the Company made it to Rivendell, he was half-the-mind to tear his contract into tiny pieces, burn it in the nearest fire and just wait for a caravan to take him home. Surely this was not how your companions were supposed to treat you - like a deadweight, a burden, someone unwanted, while it was them who needed you and not the vice versa. Still, Bilbo felt as if everything he did right was overlooked, while when he did something wrong, it was immediately thrown into his face, and he was mocked for hours for it in better case - scolded for it for hours in the worse case.
And Gandalf mostly didn't bother to say a word in his defence - instead the wizard spent most of the time on some "wizard business" and left him on his own.
He rubbed the ring on his left ring finger - Viola's oath of cherishing him till death did them part ringing in his ears as he watched the peaceful gardens of the elven city beneath the balcony he was standing at. He was so taken by the scenery that when the elven princes, Elladan and Elrohir came to fetch him for dinner, he nearly jumped out of his skin when they spoke to him.
"I see you are wearing the ring of promise," Elladan started carefully. "Why is your wife not with you then?"
-o.O.o-
Talking about his wife made everything bearable again - the royal twins often accompanying him during his walks through the gardens, their sister Arwen and foster-brother Estel joining them as well, the elves laughing merrily when he mentioned some of the pranks he and his wife played on someone when they were still just fauntling.
On the other side, due to the animosity the dwarves showed towards the elves, his friendship with their hosts certainly didn't earn him any favour points, but at the time being he just couldn't care less. Finally he had the opportunity to dust off his Sindarin, speak about his home without being ridiculed for it, show off some of his non-combat abilities (like playing violin - the elves seemed quite awed when he played them the song about butterfly and was running all around the improvised stage while playing, and then some) and learn number of things about his hosts himself.
He was saddened when they left the elven city during the night, stealing away like thieves. At least he managed to leave a short letter for Viola in his rooms, with a small note asking for it to be delivered.
-o.O.o-
He couldn't say he was surprised that the dwarves had been cold to him again. Before the Rivendell, some of them seemed to be warming up to him at least a tiny bit, the pranks played on him not so vicious - but the two weeks with elves obviously erased all of it into the rigid silence again.
He didn't mind it all that much now, though, his mind set instead on what he would write to his wife in another letter.
Dearest Viola,
I hope my previous letter found you better than I am now. Did I ever mention that I really hate to leave my hosts in secret, stealing away like... well, like a burglar I'm supposed to be, according to my contract? Because I really do.
Anyway, my dearest, the elves are exactly as the books make them to be - they appear all graceful and serene, but once you get to know them, there is one big storm of feelings and urges under that peaceful mask. They, I mean, sons of my Lord Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, were also the first ones to ask so far whether I have someone waiting for me in the Shire, and why they are not with me, which is question I ask myself time to time. You see, there are several married men among the dwarves, and at least one of them talks about his wife and son almost constantly, which seems rather normal for the dwarves; to talk about something without being asked about it while for me, it's unthinkable to speak about something, someone, so close to me, without first seeing the interest of the others in the topic.
We are nearing the Misty Mountains, the same the dwarves sang about that day they - for lack of better word - invaded our home. And I believe that the current mood of the Company is about as warm as those mountains are.
Love you,
Bilbo.
He fell asleep to the thoughts of his wife's smile that night.
-o.O.o-
If he thought the things couldn't get any worse, the world decided to show him the error in the way he thought. Not only it could get even worse - it did get worse. First, they nearly got squished in the battle of stone giants - and as if that wouldn't be bad enough, at one moment he found himself hanging off the edge of the cliff, his vocal cords frozen by the horror he felt.
"Where is Bilbo?" asked one of the dwarves, Bofur, and finally someone started to look for him, Bofur falling on his stomach, as he reached to him. Yet, if Thorin himself didn't risk his life, he would fall to his death. And for a moment, he thought he would actually prefer dying than be humiliated like that again.
Lost ever since he left home. Having no place among the company.
They found a cave few moments later, dry and obviously without any other inhabitants, and as the group was preparing for the night, Bofur had been assigned the first watch. Thinking of all that happened during the way too long weeks of their journey, Bilbo finally felt himself snap. When Bofur tried to stop him from leaving, all he could think of were those countless time he was mocked for one thing or another, humiliated for no other reason than because someone deemed it fun, ridiculed every time he mentioned something related to Shire, and he almost screamed at the dwarf; the first who started to show him at least tiny bits of warming up towards him.
"Part of the company? Does being part of the company mean you would be ridiculed most of the time? Always put down when you make a mistake, but never told a word of praise, if you do something right? Does it mean to be mocked for missing your home, your everything, that you left behind?"
It was unfair to snap like that at Bofur. Maybe. But for a moment, Bilbo felt as if a great weight was lifted from his shoulders, as those words poured out of his mouth.
At least until his sword started glowing in bright blue light and the floor under their feet fell down.
-o.O.o-
After what seemed like eternity of sneaking around the Goblin Town, trailing after his captured companions and then being thrown down the depths of goblin caves, followed by unreal game of riddles played with being so pale it almost seemed like something otherworldly and mad rush out of the caves, right after the dwarves who seemed to rush along with a very convenient timing.
Damn his bruised leg, slowing him down, making him lag behind the dwarves, and Gandalf, who suddenly appeared as well.
Suddenly, Gandalf seemed to notice his absence, and startled at that. When Thorin started to dump all of his anger and frustration on his absent (well, not as much) burglar, Bilbo slipped the ring off his finger (and wasn't that a very handy ring to have – one that makes you invisible) and snorted inelegantly, calling the attention at himself.
"Well," he said, his thumb tapping the ring still on his finger, reassuring himself as the finger met with the metal. "I could still leave, if you'd prefer."
"Bilbo!"
Bofur, Ori, Kili and Fili immediately surrounded him, checking him for injuries with worried faces, speaking to him over each other, their faces showing sincere worry over him. It came as quite a shock – they never seemed to be overly fond of him, at least it seemed so to his eyes. Yet the worry in their faces was real, and the hands that checked him for injuries tender and careful. If it wasn't for Thorin demanding to know where he was and why did he return to them, he would be quite content with letting someone take care of his fingers – only now becoming aware of how bruised and bloodied they really were.
Of course, that was when barking and howling of wargs filled the air and they were on the run again.
He managed to kill a warg with his sword, nearly causing himself to be sick all over its dead body, but after seeing their leader walking towards the pale orc, while the rest of the company just hanged from the tree, watched him to be beaten down by the creature… all he could hear was Viola, her voice mischievous and grave at the same time as she spoke: "Do no harm, Bilbo – do no harm but take no shit."
Yes, Thorin Oakenshield might have been just a bastard who certainly didn't deserve half the loyalty showed to him, but he would have to be ashamed of himself, if he let him die just because he was rude and arrogant.
He almost reconsidered, when he saw Thorin, once again up (if not completely hale) stomping to him, spouting insults – but then the dwarf just enveloped him in a hug and said he never had been so wrong as he was in all those presumptions.
If only Viola could be there, he thought, as the whole company gazed upon the Lonely Mountain on the horizon. She would have liked the view so much.
-o.O.o-
Beorn was the second person (well, he did count Elladan and Elrohir as one) who asked about the ring he wore on his left hand.
Ring of eternity, he called it, and wasn't that just the name Bilbo really liked.
They would speak for hours at end, he and the skinchanger, both of them speaking with great longing for someone who was not near the but whom they loved above all else.
Bilbo was really sad when they had to continue on their journey, but this time at least, they weren't sneaking away like thieves, and the company finally viewed him as something not-a-burden like.
It was nice to be part of the conversation; not as a butt of most of the jokes, but as equal in any discussion that took place among the company. It felt nice, to be finally considered as friend.
-o.O.o-
The Mirkwood had been a nightmare come true, Bilbo thought more than once during the eternally long days in its darkness. It was difficult to believe that this forest once had been green, and that in fact elves still resided at this dark place.
His dwarven companion had little to say about the elves of Mirkwood which wouldn't be a curse or an insult, but Bilbo slowly created an image about what was so terrible about the inhabitants of this forest.
To Bilbo it certainly sounded that the dwarves got what they had coming for the arrogance they showed before, when the elves couldn't be bothered to throw their fighters into already lost battle against the dragon, but even his logical mind felt it wasn't very nice to not help the refugees, once it was completely clear that the Erebor was lost.
Although – Bilbo couldn't help but think – was it really like that? If there was anything he learnt about his dwarven companions, it was that they were very much prone to hyperbole. Was it that the elven King flat-out refused to help them, or was refused to help them?
It was rather unflattering to think so about his companions, especially now that they were much friendlier towards him, but at the same time…
He never got to finish that thought, though. First, he was told to climb up the tree to find out whether they are going the way they should, and next he knew, he was fighting not only for his life, but for the lives of his companions as well.
His blood was rushing through his veins, his vision strangely distorted, as he stabbed at the hideous spiders, mocking them with a song his mother taught him so long ago, successfully luring them away from the dwarves who were too weak from the spider poison yet.
Then there had been some shouting and all of them had been marching toward the elven stronghold; Bilbo following after them faithfully, unseen by all.
-o.O.o-
If he thought that their stay out in the Mirkwood was long, he now was forced to re-evaluate that statement.
Their stay in the elven fortress was fucking long, he still didn't have any idea how to get the dwarves out, and unlike them, he was on the run all the time, because if he got caught, their chances to reach the Lonely Mountain would be even more improbable than they were now and that sure was saying something.
He managed to memorize at least the layout of the palace, and where every of the dwarves had been situated, but so far, he was no closer to figuring out how to escape, as every way he thought up had been shot down next moment because of some previously unknown flaw to his plan.
But his companions, at least some of them, took it surprisingly well – their first question after he made himself visible before them being if he was alright, and was he getting enough food and rest? He still was unused to such concern coming from anyone who wasn't Viola, or wasn't aware of Viola being back in Shire while he was Yavanna knew where.
On the cold nights spent in the darkness, he really wished for his wife be closer – if only to hear her voice, to feel the touch of her hand, to smell her hair and just be close to her. He missed those evenings when they would sit in front of the fireplace, cuddling close and drinking tea, or wine when they wanted to have a special evening…
Wine.
He might have just found their way out.
-o.O.o-
So his plan on how to get out of the elven kingdom had its faults – at the same time, it was better than no plan at all, as he reassured himself as he rode one of the barrels, all wet and cold.
The water was making him nervous. Well, he did like bathing, or taking occasional soak in the small pond in the forest with Viola, but so much of water, and so much of such quick water… it was making him tad nervous.
When he finally found a nice place to land and get the dwarves out, he was ready to wait for the elves to lock them back up. Those blasted ungrateful dwarves! Unlike him, they were actually quite comfy during their imprisonment, not to mention the ride down the river. It was him who was running himself rugged, who was soaked to his bone and colder than one of the Men who lived in the northern lands…!
His sneeze took them all by surprise.
This sure will not be nice, he thought. Getting himself sick when they were so close to the mountain. Could it get any more unpleasant?
-o.O.o-
As always, having cold was very unpleasant – more so because he didn't have his bed, with his blankets and his pillows. And, of course, he didn't have his wife there as well, which was worse than all else combined.
Still, his dwarven friends (yes, he really could call them so now) were doing their best to look after him – making him tea, taking care of his comfort, being there to keep him company and keep him entertained. Sure, they weren't Viola, but it still was rather nice to not be abandoned by them.
If only the mountain didn't loom over them, and with it, a dragon.
-o.O.o-
Speaking to a dragon was far trickier than speaking with his least favourite acquaintances – for one, he was not to tell Smaug his real name, and was to speak to him in a way which would keep the wyrm interested in what he was saying, while searching for any weakness in his gemmed hide.
Barrel Rider. The Lucky Number.
But then he angered the dragon, and all he could do was to watch him disappear from sight, and then lose his friends to the gold that created Smaug's armour.
-o.O.o-
Keeping the Arkenstone probably wasn't the best idea he ever had, but at the time, it was the only idea he had. His friends all became obsessed with the yellow metal in the treasury, and their King had been even more obsessed with the silver-shining stone.
He tried to get them see reason, when Bard, the guard who helped them so much while they were in Laketown, came and asked them for help in rebuilding the city of Men. Bilbo tried to reason with Thorin, offered his own share of gold to give to the Men, and to the Elves who came with them.
All it got him for his trouble was quite a yelling and door slammed in his face, as the King made his way to one of the rooms in the royal wing of Erebor.
Bilbo made his way to the room he made his own, locking the door behind him and making sure he truly was alone. The stone shone in his hand, bathing the whole chamber in its silvery light.
It was time to make his move.
-o.O.o-
It was strangely easy for him to sneak away from the Mountain and into the camp of Elves and Men. He had his ring, and hobbits were quiet by their nature, but it still surprised him how startled the King of Elves, as well as Bard and Gandalf themselves looked when he announced himself before he appeared before their eyes, walking from behind the shield leaning against the tent pole, so they wouldn't see him appear from the air.
They didn't want to let him return to the Mountain, but he was adamant at facing his – after they learnt what he did certainly former – friends again.
He knew it would be unpleasant, but nothing could prepare him for the hatred and cold fury he saw in their eyes as Thorin held him by his neck, spouting insults and trying to choke him.
How he wished for Viola's comforting presence that day, when he lost the friends it took him so long to make. Instead, it was Gandalf, Bard and Legolas, Prince of the Elves, who offered him words of comfort.
He didn't want to face his friends in battle that was coming.
-o.O.o-
It wasn't his friends he was facing in the battle after all. Instead, he found himself facing enormous army of orcs instead; side by side with Elves, Men and Dwarves of Iron Hills.
They told him to keep away from the battle, but he couldn't do that; wait somewhere relatively safe while his friends – dwarves, Gandalf, Bard and even the Elves – were fighting for his life as well. More than once, he used his ring to help someone out of a tight place (not that there were many that weren't tight), and he tried to keep to the side of his company, but the orcish forces tore them apart, and the fight got even more desperate.
There! Beorn made his appearance; the giant bear tearing his way through the orcs, invigorating everyone around him with the force of his mighty paws.
Eagled appear soon after that, their cries announcing their arrival. Bilbo found himself screaming about their arrival, when sharp pain in his leg made his victorious scream break in terrible pain.
His consciousness left him when a rock out of all possible things hit him in the head, Viola being his last thought before the darkness took its hold of him.