A Shot in the Dark (Thilbo - Bagginshield)

Chapter 3

"Which, by the way, I still don't get. Why did you decide to come with us?" wondered Kili, deciding to steal from his brother after being shooed away from Bilbo's food. He got rewarded with a swift elbow to the side that he ignored.

Bilbo stirred his soup thoughtfully. Why did he join them the first time around? Was it just for an adventure? Or had their song and tale truly touched him? He knew that was why he had decided to stay later, and it was still necessary to him now. But he honestly could not recall what had influenced him into running after them that morning so long ago.

"Your goal is a noble one," he finally answered. "You lot... You don't have a home anymore. It got stolen from you. So I will help you get it back if I can."

The Dwarves around him paused and stared at him with a look much like the one they had given him the first time he had said that. It still made him feel uncomfortable.

"You..." Bofur began to trail off as the others joined them for dinner. No one else mentioned his words for the rest night, but the Hobbit could still feel the looks they gave him, making him wonder what they could have thought of him now.

Later that night, after they finished the stew and had retired, Bilbo awoke to the sound of wargs howling in the night. The noise awoke the rest of his companions around the small campfire. Bilbo joined them with his quilt wrapped around his shoulders and tried to contain his yawns.

"Are wargs common around these parts?" he questioned, rubbing his eyes with one fist.

"No. Wargs usually don't come this far out," Bofur answered him, lighting up a pipe.

"Aye. The orcs use them as mounts and usually linger around Rivendell," Dwalin added, scowling.

"Think they'll bother us?" Ori wondered, eyes wider than usual.

"Not if we keep moving. We leave at dawn," Thorin commanded, stalking off to the edge of the cliffs to overlook the canyon below.

"He seems... angrier than usual," Bilbo noted, hinting at the untold story he knew they all needed to hear.

"Aye. Thorin has more than enough reason to hate those foul beasts," Balin answered dutifully and then launched into a heroic and tragic tale of an attempt to reclaim the lost kingdom of Moria from the dreaded orcs. He sorrowfully explained how Thorin's grandfather, King Thror, was beheaded by the orc Azog, who was determined to end the line of Durin. With eyes lost in memory, he recounted how he watched Thorin struggle to hold his own against a monster thrice his size and how it was thanks to a simple piece of fallen oak that he managed to survive and cut off the beast's hand.

Bilbo listened to the familiar tale while watching his companions. Each Dwarf seemed hypnotized by the story, and he realized that this moment cemented their loyalty to Thorin Oakenshield instead of just the King Under the Mountain. At this moment, they all realized how much their king had lost and how hard Thorin would continue to fight to reclaim it. In the way they all stood and turned to their king standing on the cliffs, he could see that they would follow the Dwarf until the end.

And so would he.

~*~

They traveled on.

The days continued, and Bilbo became increasingly more at ease around his long-lost comrades. Soon he found that he could even meet Thorin's eyes without feeling like he got punched in the chest. But the most startling thing he discovered was his youth.

Bilbo had forgotten how it felt to walk without creaking and aching bones. Hell, he had forgotten how it felt to be able to move for more than ten minutes without feeling tired and out of breath. He had been an older man for so long - longer than he should have been, thanks to the ring - that Bilbo had forgotten that there was ever a time that he was young.

It was an exhilarating realization.

"Um, Mister Bilbo, why are you walking along with the ponies instead of riding one?" Ori asked him one day as he guided his pony along on foot.

"Because one day I won't be able to," Bilbo replied, earning an odd look for his remark. He quickly ignored it, well-used to being regarded as strange even among his kin for most of his life. He had grown to accept the looks.

Thankfully the rest of the Dwarves didn't seem to care whether he walked or rode the pony.

He had noticed that other than Fili, Kili, Ori, Bofur, and Bombur, the rest of their Company never spoke to him or paid him any mind. He understood, though, that it was to be expected. Dwarves were mistrustful of outsiders by nature, and until he proved himself trustful, the rest would not open up to him. That was fine because it allowed him to focus on another problem: Gandalf.

Bilbo realized that he had to end the tense silence between him and the wizard. He thought he could handle the mistrust and suspicion until they reached Erebor, but it was becoming too much for him. He had enough that he had to deal with, and having Gandalf against him did not help.

So one night, as the rest gathered around Bombur for dinner, he cornered the wizard as he sat alone on a nearby rock.

"Bilbo," the wizard greeted pleasantly as his eyes gleamed under his hat. "What can I do for you?"

"You don't trust me," he stated bluntly because old age had brought about more than wrinkles for him. "You think something is wrong with me, yes?"

Gandalf stared at him silently for a moment before slowly nodding. "Yes. Yes, you are quite right. You are hiding something from the rest of us, Master Baggins."

"Yes, I am," he admitted, watching the nearby campfire cast dark shadows across his old friend's face. It made him look quite menacing.

"I have to keep this secret for the moment," he continued, "but only until a certain point."

"What is the reason for this secret?" questioned the wizard. "What are the consequences if you speak of it?"

-the Dwarves begin to sing in low and deep voices as they bury the bodies of the three royal Dwarves. The song is in Khuzdul and is beautiful and alien to his ears. The voices resonate as one paints a heartbreaking melody with the grief that carries through. Their king and his heirs are gone, and they mourn for all three-

Bilbo closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "The lives of those very dear to me are on the line. So until I know they are safe and well, I will keep my secret to myself."

Gandalf's eyes widened as he took in the meaning of his words. Once he did, his face softened, and the harsh line and wrinkles eased up, making him look much younger and kinder.

"In that case, I will not hound you for an answer. I will wait for you to come to me in your own time," the wizard said, giving him the same smile he shared whenever Bilbo had done something foolish and then attempted to make up for it. It made his heart hurt a little to see it again in this lifetime.

"Thank you, Master Gandalf. I appreciate your trust in me," he replied, giving the wizard a small smile. "And I promise that it will not be misplaced."

And I am sorry that I cannot tell you the truth. You are a good and noble person, but you may make things worse in your attempts to help. I do not know the consequences of my actions or what you may cause. So all I can do is try to change things and hope that my choices don't condemn us all.

Gandalf kept smiling, his kind smile. "I'm sure it won't, Bilbo. I'm sure it won't."