Despite what he told the world, his name had not always been Beorn.
Beorn was the name he took later in his life after he had decided on his final form. Before that he had been called Aga—a name his Mother had given him at his creation. When he asked her why, she had told him it meant, 'He who walks in twilight.' He never understood why she picked that name, but he didn't understand a lot of things his Mother did.
When he was still Aga, he had roamed the world freely in many forms. Most of the time he had chosen to be an animal, but he had tried out the skins of Men and Elves and even Dwarves for one very brief period. He didn't care for them very much which was why he stuck to animals. As a beast, he could smell and hear and taste things that he could not experience as a Man. He could not say why but the world just seemed much more vivid and alive to him when he stood on four legs instead of two.
His Mother had been the one who told him that he needed a final form. She had given him great freedom for a long time, but after he had seen his fill of the world, she had reminded him of his duties. He was created to serve the earth and it was time for him to do so. So, he had obeyed her will and chosen his final form, and thus Beorn the shapeshifter was created.
Beorn could happily say that he enjoyed his life. He tended and cared for the earth that his Mother had created the best he could, and he protected her animals as fiercely as she had with him. He spent his days listening to the whispers of the trees and laughter of the wind, and his nights running freely under the moon. He never felt lonely or lacking because his Mother had not created him to want for nothing more than a good meal and a good laugh. Unlike his peers, he never cared for the lives of Men and Elves and Dwarves. He had walked and lived amongst enough of them to know their hearts, and what he found was not worth the effort. The others could save them or condemn them if they wanted; he was happy enough with his trees and dogs.
He would have happily stayed away from the dealings and plots of mortals if it was not for a certain bunny that crossed his path. Bilbo Baggins was fascinating to Beorn, and it was not just because he was a Hobbit traveling with Dwarves. No, he was fascinating because his soul was older than his body. He had met many different being in his lifetime, but this was the first time he had ever encountered an old soul trapped in a young body. It was quite a wondrous sight and it made him immensely curious. The Keeper of the Dead did not allow souls to be reborn with their previous lifetimes tainting it. So how did Bilbo Baggins ever come to be in such a state?
Beorn thought to ask Gandalf, but the wizard did not seem aware of his Hobbit companion's state. That did not surprise him when he realized it. Beorn was neither beast nor mortal and so he could see things that others could not. This sight was why he could see how old Bilbo Baggin's soul truly was while one of the strongest of the Maiar remained blind.
The Hobbit fascinated him greatly. Not only did he have a unique soul, but he also had an entertaining personality to go with it. Beorn could not remember the last time he had laughed so much! Everyday brought something new and exciting for Bilbo, and Beorn enjoyed every minute of it. He thought he could spend a hundred years watching the bunny and he would never grow bored.
Perhaps he was growing soft in his old age, but Beorn found himself growing rather fond of the Hobbit and the mismatched crew that seemed to follow him. He had never cared for the dealings of mortals before but, watching the Hobbit and Dwarves and Men and Elves fight and die for each other, Beorn thought he could learn to.
~*~
Bilbo did not go back to sleep after his dream. How could he when he had the ring cackling and taunting him in the back of his mind? It was as if his nightmare had awoken the damn thing and now it would not leave him alone. Over and over again it whispered its master's name with a fervor he did not think possible. The ring knew its creator was alive and it yearned to return to him as a zealot yearned for his god. Listening to it call for Sauron over and over again, Bilbo began to realize that he could not put off his mission to Mordor any longer. He had to destroy the One Ring as soon as possible before the Dark Lord noticed the cries of its precious ring.
Fail, you will fail, fail, fail, the ring chanted like a child. You will fail like always. Fail, fail, fail!
"Oh, do shut up," he muttered under his breath as he set up his parchment and quill. After deciding that it was time to leave, the Hobbit realized that it was also time for him to write down his story for the others. In the event that he failed to destroy the ring, he wanted his friends to be prepared for what was to come. So, he decided to make a timeline of the major future events that would bring about the War of the Ring. He knew that his actions could potentially alter the future drastically—and possibly make things worse—but he could not walk away and leave his friends blind to the evil that was rising.
Won't make a difference, the ring sneered viciously. Won't stop what is meant to be.
"We'll see about that," Bilbo retorted before he began to write out one of the greatest wars that Middle Earth would ever see.
It took him until dawn before he was finally satisfied with his timeline. His back hurt from hunching over and his hand and wrist ached from writing, but he did not stop after finishing his timeline. Instead, he kept writing. He wrote a letter to Gandalf explaining his second chance at life and thanking him for being his good friend for so many years. He wrote of his regret that they would not get a second chance at that friendship and asked the wizard for his forgiveness over lying to him for so long. He then begged the wizard to protect the Company and his fellow Hobbits because there was no one else he would trust more with such a task.
After he finished his letter to Gandalf, Bilbo wrote a letter to each of the Dwarves that he had come to care for so much. As with Gandalf's letter, he explained his second chance and what really happened the first time he joined them on their quest. He wrote of how stuffy and self-absorbed he had been in those days, and how it was traveling with them that had opened his eyes to the hardships of others. He told the true story of Mirkwood and the barrels, of Lake-town and Smaug, and how the Battle of Five Armies was supposed to end with the deaths of Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli. He explained his grief and guilt over their deaths and how he spent the next eighty years trying to make peace with it but found that he could not. Finally, he admitted that the real reason he decided to join them again was because he wanted to protect them all from the dangers he knew was to come.
But he did not only write of sad and tearful things. No, Bilbo did not want to leave his friends with nothing but sad memories and a fear that they had failed him somehow. So, in each individual letter, he thanked them for everything they had done for him. He thanked Dwalin for protecting him in the Misty Mountains and putting up with his many questions, and for leaving behind little snacks for the Hobbit to find because he was convinced Bilbo was starving on their journey. He thanked Balin for being kind to him even when he didn't trust Bilbo, and for coming to see how the Hobbit was doing after Thorin had banished him from Erebor. And he warned Balin of the fate that awaited him in Moria because he could not stand the idea of his good friend dying too horribly once more.
To Fíli and Kíli, he thanked them for living even when fate had decided on a different course for them and begged the two princes to keep going no matter what destiny said. He explained how precious they truly were to everyone, and how they each had the potential to grow up into some amazing Dwarves. He wanted them to understand how much it meant to him to see them so alive and bright again because that was a dream, he never thought would come true.
To Óin he wrote his thanks for taking the time to teach him a little of his trade, and of his exasperation with the Dwarf's need to constantly check on him. But he also admitted that it was nice having someone care so much of his wellbeing again, and how Óin really did impress him with his knowledge and patience. As with Balin, he warned the healer of the violent death that awaited him in Moria and begged him not to go. In Glóin's letter, he thanked the Dwarf for taking the time to teach him how to fight even though they both knew Bilbo was a horrible student. He admitted to how much the Dwarf impressed him from his fierce loyalty to his unselfish desires to protect his family. Finally, he explained that Gimli would indeed grow up to become the legend that his father saw in him, but only because he had Glóin there to show him what a hero looked like.
In his letter to Bofur, Bilbo admitted that the first time around the miner had been the only one to extend a hand of friendship to him in the beginning. He went on to explain how he had never forgotten that because Bofur became his best friend even when they lived half a world away from each other. He then thanked the miner for his loyalty and friendship because both were priceless gifts that he could never repay. To Bombur he thanked the Dwarf who inspired him with his perseverance because no matter how many mistakes or falls he took, Bombur still always got up and kept trying. He reassured the Dwarf that he was both a fine cook and an equally fine friend, and that he should never doubt himself again because Bombur had taken on a dragon and how many could claim that? In his letter to Bifur, he thanked the Dwarf for keeping his secret to himself, and for teaching Bilbo Iglishmêk even though he was quite sure he was horrible at it. But most importantly he thanked the Dwarf for staying alive and getting well enough to read this letter because he couldn't stand the idea of burying another friend.
To Ori he told him of the Dwarf that he would grow up to be and of his grim fate in Moria at Balin's side. But he also went on to explain that the scribe could avoid it if he wished because his fate was in his hands now. He also admitted that Ori was quite possibly the bravest Dwarf that he had ever met because he did not know of any other so young who would take on the challenges that Ori did. In Nori's letter he insisted for the final time that he could take care of himself, and that he knew the thief had taken his buttons and pointed out that he really wouldn't get anything for them because they were chipped and cracked. But he also wrote of how Nori had impressed him with his loyalty and the subtle way he cared for his brothers. Bilbo even admitted that if he ever had a brother, then he hoped he would have been something like Nori. To Dori he thanked for his advice and for listening to Bilbo whenever he needed a willing ear. He admitted that Dori always made him feel at ease and comfortable no matter what lifetime he lived. Finally, he thanked him for his coat and mourned that it was probably a bunch of bloody rags now and apologized about misusing it so badly.
The final letter to Thorin took him the longest. As with the other letters, he started from beginning in his first life where he joined the Company, outsmarted Mirkwood and Smaug, and watched Thorin die at the end of the battle. Then from there he explained how he returned to the Shire where he spent a good deal of years mourning for a love that was unreturned.
'I learned to smile and live again,' he added because it was time for him to be honest with Thorin. 'But it took time because my heart is a stubborn and weak little thing.'
He wrote of the book he penned of their adventure, of how Frodo came to live with him, and finally of the ring. He explained Frodo's quest to Mordor to destroy the One Ring, and how his nephew succeeded but at a steep price. It was a price that he could not bear to burden his boy with again.
'You of all people must understand my love for Frodo,' he reminded with sharp slashes to his letters. 'I know that you would do anything for your nephews. Do not hate me for doing what I must for mine.'
But the hardest part of the letter, Bilbo found, was putting his feelings into words. He had read many poems and stories that expressed such emotions that the reader was reduced to tears. But he was no poet or great scholar, and his love had never consumed his every thought or action. He was just a simple Hobbit with a simple heart that never knew when to let go and move on. So, knowing this, he wrote the truth for Thorin with simple words for his simple heart.
'I love you. I loved you for eighty years and I will love you for eighty more.'
When he at last laid down his quill, Bilbo found that he felt strangely empty inside. He had poured out all of his feelings and emotions into his letters that he now had nothing left inside. But it was a nice feeling, and he favored the peace it brought with it for that brief moment.
One task down. Two more to go, he thought before slowly rising to his feet as he continued to prepare for the journey ahead.
~*~
"Bilbo! You're back!" Ori chirped when he saw the Hobbit entering the city.
Bilbo smiled slightly and gave the scholar a small nod. "I did promise to visit. How are the others?"
"Bifur is still alive," Ori revealed with a wide smile that showed off his high cheekbones. "And Fíli even woke up and ate some broth before going back to sleep. Even Thorin was awake for a little bit before passing out again! Isn't this great?"
"It is," he agreed, feeling his heart lighten greatly. "Does Óin believe Bifur will recover?"
The young Dwarf shrugged. "He can't say just yet, but he says the fact that he made it this far is a good sign. A very good sign!"
Bilbo sighed and felt something in him relax. It was a relief to know that Bifur was recovering well enough. Now he could at least leave without worrying that he was leaving a friend to die.
"Where are the others?" he asked, glancing around the inner gates of Erebor. Some of Dáin's warriors lingered about; some acting as guards while others talked and went about their business. He spotted Dwalin speaking to one of the unknown Dwarves, and beyond him he could see Glóin leaning against a wall smoking his pipe.
Ori shrugged. "Don't know. Kíli is still with Fíli, of course, and Bofur and Bombur have been taking turns sitting with Bifur. Óin is still tending to his patients and I think Dwalin is trying to organize a patrol or something. But I don't know where the others are."
"That's fine. I'm sure I'll find them before I leave," he commented as he met the scholar's eyes. He hesitated for a moment before finally reaching forward and pulling the now taller Dwarf into a hug.
Ori made a questioning noise but did not fight the sudden embrace. Instead, he wrapped one arm around Bilbo's waist and used the other to pat him on the back. "Bilbo? What brought this on? Is something wrong?"
"No. Nothing is wrong," he lied as he took in the scent of ink and cinnamon that lingered in Ori's scarf. "I just felt like hugging you."
"Oh. Well, if that's what you need, then that's fine. But Dori gives better hugs than me," Ori confided as he continued to pat him on the back.
Bilbo just laughed and hugged the young Dwarf tighter. "I'm sure he does."
~*~
He went to see Fíli first.
The young prince had been placed in an alcove similar to Thorin's in the treasury and that was where Bilbo found him still. When he arrived, he found the prince sleeping with Kíli sitting at his side with his broken bow in his lap. The young Dwarf looked up as Bilbo grew closer and gave him a smile that lacked the normal energy, he had come to expect from Kíli.
"Bilbo," the youngest prince said in greeting as he waved. "I was wondering when you would come back."
"I wanted to see everyone," he replied honestly as he settled next to Kíli on the cold stone floor. "How is he?"
Kíli looked to the unconscious Fíli and shrugged. "Alive. He's woken up a few times and even managed to eat some broth before passing out again. Óin thinks he'll be fine as long as he's not moved."
"Fíli is young and Óin is a good healer. I'm sure he will recover soon enough," Bilbo reassured as he watched the brunet. Kíli had grown as pale as his brother and was sporting dark circles under his darker eyes. He looked shaky and tired and much older than his years. Like Ori, Kíli had been changed forever by the Battle of the Five Armies.
"Kíli," the Hobbit said softly, placing a hand on the archer's forearm. "Do you want to talk about anything?"
The prince shrugged again and did not look away from his brother. "What's there to talk about?"
"How about the horrible battle you were just in where you watched your brother and uncle get cut down in front of you?" he pointed out, leaning forward and out so he could catch Kíli's eyes. The Dwarf met his gaze for a moment and then shuddered and squeezed his dark eyes shut.
"I keep seeing it every time I close my eyes," Kíli admitted quietly. "Fíli stepping between me and the Orc and taking that blow. I can still feel his blood on my hands. It was warm and thick, and it just wouldn't stop! And Fíli, he didn't cry or anything! He just smiled and told me to stop crying because I have an ugly crying face. Can you believe it? He was making jokes as he bled out in my lap! He's so stupid!"
Bilbo nodded and patted the archer's arm as he shook and struggled to hold back his tears. "It sounds like Fíli was trying to comfort you in his own way."
The prince nodded as he wiped his nose on his free sleeve. "He's always been like that. Always protecting me and watching out for me. Fee's not like Dori; he doesn't hover or mother me like I'm a babe. But he's always been there when I needed him. I should have known he would pull something like that in the battle."
"Kíli, you cannot blame yourself for Fíli's actions," he pointed out as he reached up and pushed the messy locks out of the prince's face. "He knew what he was doing when he stepped in front of you. It was his choice."
"But he shouldn't have done that!" Kíli yelled as he jerked away from the Hobbit. He glared at Bilbo with flashing dark eyes that reminded him of lighting in the night sky. "Fíli is the crown prince, and he needs to remember that! He can't throw his life away protecting me!"
Bilbo sighed and reached out to jerk the resisting prince into a hug. Stubbornly he wrapped an arm around the Dwarf's broader shoulders and buried his other hand in Kíli's thick hair. Kíli resisted for a moment but eventually he melted into the hug just as the Hobbit expected.
"Fíli is the crown prince, yes, but he is also your big brother," he reminded quietly as Kíli shook in his arms like a child. "He was your brother first and his duty to you will always override his duty to the crown. It is a selfish desire, yes, but what else can one expect from two exiled princes?"
The young prince sniffled and hiccupped as he visibly struggled to hold back his tears. "I've never lost someone I love before," he confessed as if it was a shameful secret. "Da died before I could learn to love him, and I wasn't even born when grandfather and uncle died. I don't know how I would go on if Fíli died in that battle. How could I live with myself knowing that my brother died to keep me alive?"
"You would find a way to go on," Bilbo reassured as he ran a soothing hand through the dark hair. "But that is not a burden you have to carry. What you need to do is focus on keeping Fíli safe now. It is your turn to protect him, Kíli."
Kíli buried his face further against his shoulder but still nodded his head. "I will. I'll keep him safe. I have to now. I just have to."
Bilbo tightened his hold on the young prince even as his heart relaxed. He knew that Kíli would follow through with his vow, and though it hurt to see how changed the Dwarf was, he was also very thankful. Kíli would keep Fíli safe just as the crown prince protected him. They would both live and would fight to keep the other alive, and in the end that was all he ever really wanted for them. He wanted Fíli and Kíli to live.
Keep each other safe, he begged the two in his mind as Kíli clung to him. Don't waste this chance for a life that I've stolen for you. Live your lives to the fullest and die as old Dwarves in your beds. That is all I want for you both.
~*~
It was Bofur that he found sitting at Bifur's side this time.
"He's still alive," the miner said in greeting without looking away from the small carving he was working on.
"So I heard," Bilbo replied as he walked closer to kneel down next to Bofur. In front of him Bifur laid stretched out on a mat similar to the ones Thorin and Fíli were on. The older Dwarf looked peaceful in his slumber with his hair combed back and beard neatly braided. There was an old quilt tucked around him that showed his bare and scarred chest and arms. If he didn't know any better, Bilbo would've sworn the Dwarf was perfectly fine.
"I didn't think we would see you again so soon," Bofur commented as he held up his carving and squinted at it before blowing away a bit of shavings.
The Hobbit shrugged. "I wanted to check up on everyone. Make sure no one died while I was away."
"Hmm." Bofur looked over his sleeping cousin and his dark eyes seemed to grow even darker. "You know, he was my hero when I was a child."
Bilbo blinked a few times before his brain finally made the connection. "Who—Bifur?"
"Uh-huh." The Dwarf nodded as he turned back to the carving in his hands. "See, I'm the youngest in my family, so my older cousins never gave me much thought. But not Bifur. He always made time to play with me and ask me about my day. He taught me how to carve and how to use a blade and how to drink. And he's the one who saved me from death the day Smaug attacked."
"Oh. I never knew that," he admitted quietly as he looked to Bifur. "He never talks about his past."
"Bifur has a hard time remembering things," the miner explained, jerking his chin towards the axe buried in Bifur's forehead. "That injury took away more than just his words. It also took away his memories. He doesn't complain about any of it, but I know it hurts him to lose something so precious."
"I never have heard Bifur complain about anything in his life," Bilbo realized as he thought over their past conversations. "He just took everything in and dealt with it. Even when things seemed bleak on our journey, I never heard him whine or grumble. He just kept walking on."
Bofur nodded as his shoulders seemed to sag like a great weight was on them. "Bifur is strong because life has forced him to be. If he didn't learn to endure and go on, then the world would have crushed him when Erebor fell."
"Is that what he has been doing? Surviving?" he wondered quietly.
The Dwarf shrugged as he looked up to the Hobbit with his sad eyes. "Sometimes that's all we can do. It's not much of a life now, but I have hope that Bifur will find joy in living again."
"I do too," Bilbo whispered as he reached out to take one of Bifur's rough hands into his own. "I hope he finds the greatest of joys in living again."
~*~
Thorin was still asleep when he finally paid him a visit.
The king was pale as ever and his chest and shoulder were still greatly bandaged, but his chest still rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Bilbo watched the Dwarf breath in and out as he settled on the ground next to the king's bed. For a long time, he simply watched Thorin as he slept on; memorizing the arches and slants of his face, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, and the way his hair fell in disarray across his face. Thorin was not attractive by Hobbit standards, but Bilbo had long given up ever conforming to his people's ideals. Thorin was beautiful to him and always would be.
"I would have said yes, you know. If you had asked me properly," he finally said, reaching up to touch one of Thorin's clasps he still wore in his hair. "You must have known that I wouldn't recognize the gesture, so I don't understand why you still secretly proposed. Were you afraid that I would reject you? Did you even plan to come out and tell me about the true meaning behind your beads? Or were you going to just let me go; to live out my life believing that you thought of me as nothing more than a friend? I know you, Thorin, and I know that you would not put your happiness above others. You would have left me alone because you did not think I would ever come to love you, right? Well, the jokes on you because I do love you, and accept your proposal."
Thorin did not rouse at his words. He showed no sign of waking at all, and secretly it relieved him. Bilbo did not believe he could face Thorin's questions or pleading. He wasn't that strong of heart, not really. Just incredibly stubborn.
Slowly, Bilbo undid the clasp at the end of his braid until it was free from his hair. Then he reached for one of Thorin's thick braids and began to replace the small band at the end with the silver clasp.
"Do not hate me for this," he said quietly as he worked. "If you hate me, then it will be harder for you to forget me. And if I die on this quest, then that is what I wish for you. I wish for you to forget me and move on with your life."
The sleeping king still did not rise but Bilbo thought he saw a twitch. Perhaps Thorin would not wake but that did not mean he could not hear the Hobbit's words.
"Do not linger over the past like I did," he continued, lowering his voice a notch. "It will bring you nothing but heartache. I spent a great deal of years mourning over you and my own broken heart. I would never wish any of that on my worst enemy, let alone you. So, forget me and my name and find happiness in your kingdom and family. That is all I ever wanted for you."
At the end of his confession, Bilbo had finished retying the clasp into the original owner's hair. The silver band gleamed brightly against the black locks, catching the candlelight and twinkling like a star in the night sky. The clasp looked much better in Thorin's hair than it ever did in his own.
"Maybe I will come back," he whispered into the silence, "but I can't promise that. So, when you wake, accept that I love you back, and then focus on rebuilding your home. Put me out of your mind and in time you will forget me. That way, if I do die, it will not hurt you as much."
Thorin still did not rouse at his words. With a small smile, he leaned down and pressed his lips against the king's cool forehead before pulling away. "Goodbye, Thorin. I hope you live out the rest of your days in peace and prosperity like you deserve."
Then Bilbo turned and walked away from Thorin for what felt like the final time.
~*~
Bilbo spent the rest of the day subtly collecting supplies and packing his things together. It was not very difficult as most of the Men and Elves paid him no attention, and there were greater matters to attend too. So quietly and carefully, he gathered the food and water he would need along with a few other essentials he thought would come in handy. When he finally felt like he had packed enough, the sun was setting, and the day had come to a close. With nothing else to do, Bilbo retired to rest even as the ring continued to whisper to him in the back of his mind.
When he awoke, it was still dark and the air was cold and the fires had long died out, but Bilbo still rose and dressed and gathered his pack. After checking to make sure his letters were noticeable and would not be missed, he silently stepped out of his tent and began his trek out of the camp. He thought that he was doing a fairly good job of sneaking away, but that confidence died a quick death when a massive hand settled on his head and stopped him in his tracks.
"Well, I guess Miss Tauriel wins the bet. The bunny is trying to sneak off," Beorn—which he knew before the giant even spoke because he was the only one with such monstrous hands—commented as he ruffled the Hobbit's braids; casting a jingling sound that echoed too loudly to Bilbo.
The burglar sighed and swatted at the hand on his head before turning to face the three unnaturally tall figures that loomed over him. "What are you three doing up?"
"Wondering what the hell you're doing," Bard replied bluntly with his arms over his chest. For the first time since Lake-town, the Man looked at Bilbo with his icy eyes he usually saved for Orcs and Thorin. "Why are you leaving in the dead of the night, Bilbo? And where for that matter?"
"I'm going home," he lied without blinking. It disturbed him, for a moment, how good he had become at lying before he dismissed the concern. There were worse things to be in life than a liar; like a killer or a rapist or a freakishly tall person like most of the other races.
Tauriel snorted; a gesture that visibly surprised Beorn and Bard but not Bilbo. He had seen the Elf strangle an Orc with her bow string and bare hands the day before. He didn't think she cared much about propriety at this point.
"You're lying," the Elf said easily as she raised one brow high and looked down at him. "Now tell us why before we drag you off to Gandalf—"
Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Gandalf does not scare me."
"—who will get your Dwarves for us," Tauriel finished with a smirk that made her high cheek bones stand out. "I think that young one with the green eyes will do. I doubt even I could say no to such an innocent face."
"You would if you knew how hard he can punch," the Hobbit grumbled as he rubbed his jaw in remembrance. "And I still don't see why I need to tell you three anything. I am under no obligation to share my business with anyone."
"Not even with a friend?" Bard asked quietly as he met Bilbo's eyes with his dark pair that reminded him of Kíli.
He flinched. "That's not fair. You can't use that against me."
"You are sneaking off in the dead of the night. We will use whatever tactic we wish to get an answer," Tauriel replied bluntly without blinking.
"You are scared," Beorn suddenly stated as he took in a deep breath through his nose. "And worried. Something is bothering you greatly. So great that you are leaving behind the Dwarves you went to battle for without a word."
"That's not true. I left them letters," he grumbled as he hiked his pack up higher on his shoulders.
Bard sighed as the straight line to his shoulders softened. "Bilbo, please do not push us away. All we want is to help you. Please, tell us what's wrong."
"You won't believe me," he muttered as he felt his resolve waver.
"Try us," challenged Tauriel.
Bilbo felt his defenses collapse. "Fine," he snapped as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring and held it up for them to see. "I'm going to Mordor to destroy the One Ring."
The trio just stared at him.
"What?" Bard said, blinking at him rapidly. "Can you repeat that?"
"You heard me the first time," he grumbled, trying not to roll his eyes. "I'm going to destroy the One Ring. Can I go now?"
"Wh—How did you even find that? Where did you find that?!" Tauriel asked, taking a step back without removing her eyes from the gold ring in Bilbo's palm.
"In the Misty Mountains," the Hobbit replied. "And no, I'm not mistaken because that writing on it only became visible after Smaug failed to melt it with his fire."
The three kept staring.
"I have to admit; I didn't see this coming," Beorn commented as he scratched at his beard.
"I feel like I should be surprised, but somehow I'm not," Tauriel admitted with a small frown.
"Will you two keep him here while I go and get my things?" Bard asked as he pointed back at the camp over his shoulder. "I don't want to have to chase after him with all these injuries."
"What? Bard, you're not coming with me," Bilbo said as he placed his hands on his hips and attempted to stare the Man down. "You are injured and need to rest and get better. Not hobble off after me as I take on a volcano."
Tauriel nodded and turned to face the Man as well. "Not without us, anyways."
"Excuse me? Who exactly invited you two?!" the Hobbit growled as he switched his glare to the Elf and shapeshifter.
"You cannot honestly think we would let you go off alone to face the greatest evil our world has ever known," Beorn pointed out, raising both of his bushy brows. "You're not that stupid—no, wait, you are."
Bilbo ignored the jibe. "This is not happening. None of you are coming with me; end of discussion!"
The shapeshifter simply laughed. "Just try and stop us, little bunny."
"Bilbo, we're going with you," Bard said with the same tone he had heard the Man use on his children. "So just shut up and accept it."
Bilbo felt like he was going to scream. They were just not getting it. "And what if you die on this quest, Bard? Hmm? What will your children do then without their father there to raise them?"
Bard flinched and clenched his jaw but did not back down. "And if I do not help you defeat this evil now, then they will be the ones to pay the price in the future."
"Bilbo, this is not like stealing a stone or going to battle," Tauriel pointed out, her voice softening a fraction. "This is a great task that affects everyone. You cannot bear it alone."
The Elf was right. He knew that he was better off with their help; that carrying the ring to Mordor alone was crazy and stupid. But a bigger part of him couldn't help but rebel at the thought of involving his friends, of risking their lives. He recalled Ori and his Dwarves and how strongly they fought to make him understand how much he meant to them too. They begged him not to sacrifice his own life for their sake, but Bilbo could not overpower his own fears of their deaths. He had already watched his friends die in one lifetime; he did not want to experience it again.
"I don't want anyone to die because of me," he admitted quietly, wincing at how hypocritical his words sounded to his own ears.
"As we do not wish to see you die," Tauriel rebutted without pause as she stared into his eyes with her own flashing hazel. "But that is a risk we must all take to rid the world of this evil. So strengthen your heart, Master Baggins, because we will be accompanying you to Mordor."
Bilbo felt his objections die a screeching and horrible death. "Fine. You have fifteen minutes to gather your things and then I'm leaving—with or without you."
The Elf smirked at him and tossed her head back. "I'll be back in ten."
"Show off," muttered Bard as he followed the Elven beauty back to the camp.
Bilbo glanced to Beorn, who had yet to move, and raised his brows. "Well? Aren't you going to gather your things too?"
"I have everything I need on me," the shapeshifter reassured with a toothy grin. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't run off without us."
He sniffed and looked away. "I said I would wait, and I will. I never go back on my word if I can help it."
Beorn blinked his brown eyes slowly as he stared at the Hobbit. "And what would force you to go back on your word?"
"You'll know when I break it," he muttered as he turned around and stared off at the mountain in the distance.
Beorn had nothing to say to that.
Eventually Tauriel and Bard returned; both lugging their packs along with them. Bard looked tired and paler than when he left, and Bilbo felt his concern rise again at the sight. But before he could ask the Man to stay behind again, Beorn stepped forward and spoke.
"Bard, I'll carry you for now," the shapeshifter declared as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to Bilbo. The Hobbit caught it and made a face at the smell that made Beorn grin widely.
Bard frowned and took a step back from the Man. "No thank you. I don't need to be coddled."
"Oh, be quiet and just accept his offer," Tauriel ordered as she took the Man's pack from him and heaved it over her shoulder without flinching. "No one here will make fun of you for accepting help. Right?"
"Of course not," scoffed Beorn as he cracked his knuckles. "Why would we when we have your face to mock?"
Bilbo snorted and began to fold up the shape-shifter's shirt. "Not helping the cause, Beorn."
Beorn shrugged, unapologetic. "Just telling him how it is. Now step back so I can transform, and we can leave."
The three dutifully did as asked and waited for the Man to become the beast he so greatly resembled. Once completely transformed into a bear, Beorn rambled over to Bard and nudged the Man in the shoulder with his massive head. In return, Bard sighed deeply, and his shoulders drooped in defeat.
"We never speak of this," he told Beorn, poking the bear in the forehead. Beorn simply snorted and playfully tried to bite his finger off. The Man huffed and slowly climbed on top of the bear and made himself comfortable. Once he was set, he nodded to the others.
"Ready when you are," he said as he dug his fingers into Beorn's thick fur.
Bilbo nodded and glanced back to Erebor for one final time before setting his eyes on the horizon. "Then let's go."