#the-hobbit

 There was nothing pressing that required Bilbo’s presence so you pull up a chair and rest your hands on his knees.

 “Bilbo.” There was no response. “Bilbo,” you call again and little firmer.  “Supper is ready.”

 The hobbit finally surfaces from the memories blinking the haze from his eyes.

 “What did you say?”

 “I said, ‘Supper is ready,’” you repeat biting back a laugh. “Won’t you tell me what you were thinking about.”

 “Maybe over supper. What is there tonight?” He gets up to follow you to the dining room. The large table seems even bigger when it was just the two of you sitting together.

 “Boiled potatoes, baked cheese bread, gravy and meat pie. Sorry it’s not much tonight.”

 “No, no it’s perfect.”

 You sit down next to him and take your fair share of the food. The majority of the meal is passed in silence, the only things breaking it the click of silverware against plates. Finally, as the plates are cleared you decide to ask the same question you always asked.

 “So what were you thinking about earlier?” Bilbo sets his fork down and sits back in his chair.

 “Just about the trip.”

 You roll your eyes. “I knew that, but what part of the trip were you thinking about?”

 Despite being together for over a year, you knew very little about this journey. When he first arrived back to the Shire he seemed completely normal, but as time went on the memories seemed to bother him more and more instead of less and less.  

 You met him at the market only a few days after he returned to the Shire. He invited you to dinner and things progressed steadily from there.

 Bilbo doesn’t answer right away, instead his eyes glaze over again and you fear that you’ve lost him to the memories. Just as you’re about to admit defeat he looks back at you with clear eyes.

 “Just the last bit.” You still don’t know what the last bit of the journey was, but you’ll take the answer as progress.

 “Do you ever miss the adventure?”

 “The excitement of it all and meeting so many new people maybe. But the fighting and monsters, no.” Bilbo stands up and takes some of the plates into the kitchen. You take a few and follow him.

 “Why don’t you tell me what worries you? Maybe I can help.”

 “I wish you could. However, I’m not so sure there’s anything left to help.” This statement only confuses you more, but you’re determined not to lose the conversation like you have so many times before.

 “Maybe you should write it all down. Get the memories out of your head and on to paper, and then maybe they won’t bother you so much.”

 Bilbo doesn’t show his opinion of your suggestion so you resign yourself to washing the dishes. Afterwards, the two of you sit together in front of the fire. The silence is heavy so you excuse yourself to bed after a few minutes. Once you’re at the doorway, Bilbo mutters something that you don’t understand.

 “What was that?” you turn to look at his silhouette.

 “It’s a good idea,” he repeats.

 “What is?”

 “Writing it all down. It might work.”

 You nod and smile even though you know he can’t see you. “I’m glad you think so. You should try it. At least for a little.”

 “I think I will.” You turn back around and start to walk to your shared bedroom. “I love you (F/N)”

 When you first met and started to talk to Bofur you were painfully aware of the gazes that followed you down the market paths. They were condescending, cold, and sometimes pitying. As if you were too young to make your own decisions and were some poor creature. Overtime, however, you grew bolder and you walked through the markets with your head held high and gave no worries to the whispers that reached your ears.

  “How has she become so outlandish?”

 “Her mother and father are very respectable hobbits. No one knows what happened.”

 “Such a pity. And she could have had any young hobbit she wanted.”

 You’d heard it all before, and you met every comment with a haughty look at the speaker. You were confident that you could make your own decisions and after three blissful months you were rewarded for your stubbornness. After many well thought out and protracted speeches your parents grudgingly gave in and gave you their blessing to date Bofur officially. You wouldn’t have allowed their answer to affect you much one way or the other, but you were happy to have their approval. Plus, walking out the front door with a light-hearted farewell was a lot easier than sneaking out your bedroom window when you were supposed to be asleep.

 “How did the conversation with your parents go lass?” Bofur’s question reels your mind in from the thoughts it had been absorbed in.

 “Really well actually. They said they are happy if I’m happy. However, they made it quite clear we were not to engage in anything scandalous.” You put emphasis on the last word making it clear you took the threat as a joke.

 “Well we don’t want to anger them. They might attack with their wooden spoons.”

 “Oh yes they are fearsome warriors. They once slay one hundred potatoes with a single kitchen knife.”

 The dwarf by your side laughs causing your smile to widen. He always made you laugh and you loved to pay him back whenever you could.

 As the laughter dies down the sound of the night creeps back in. The sound of bugs and the light breeze is peaceful and quietly beautiful.

 “How is your group in Erebor?” you ask. You made it a habit to ask him about them every once in a while.

 “Same as they have been. From the letters, I can guess Ori is acting as a scribe. The others are putting the mountain back together.”

 You turn your head so you can look at the dwarf. “Surely you want to go back. It sounds like things are going wonderfully.”

 “I suppose I will eventually. For now, I’m enjoyin’ the vacation. His royal highness can do without me.”

 “Well I’m glad you’ve stuck around. It would be rather boring here without you.”

 “Glad to serve as a bit of entertainment.”

 The giggles die down yet again and you sit in silence. You give thought to your parent’s warnings, but decide to ignore them. You rest your head against Bofur’s shoulder. For a second you’re afraid he’ll pull away, but he doesn’t move. The position is comfortable. When he puts his arm around your shoulder, you’re pulled slightly closer.

 The night is beginning to get cooler when Bofur starts humming a familiar song. You can feel the vibrations in his chest more than you can hear the actual music. Gradually the humming turns into soft singing. You don’t even notice when you start to drift asleep. The singing stops abruptly.

 “Whoah lass can’t have you fallin’ asleep. Your parent may be more accepting, but I don’t think they’d appreciate me carrying their sleeping daughter home.”

 You pick your head up off his shoulder, and shake yourself to wake up. “You’re right. But I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you walked their awake daughter home.” You stand up and brush the grass from your dress.

 Bofur stands up beside you and hooks his arm into your waiting elbow. Walking side by side you make your way down the grassy hill back to Hobbiton. You stop on the lawn of your hobbit hole. You’re grip on his arm causes Bofur to stop as well.

 “Thank you for a wonderful evening.” You say quietly, respectful of the sleeping people behind the door.

 “Thank you for spendin’ it with me.” He replies.

 “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 “Of course. Good night Lass.”

 “Excuse me sir?” you called out as you simultaneously tapped on his shoulder.  As soon as the man turns around the words you have prepared in your head fly away. All you can think is dwarf, dwarf, dwarf because the man now facing you is definitely a dwarf. You had never seen a dwarf in person, but there was no mistaking it. You were now also positive it was a man, even though you heard that the female dwarves were quite masculine as well.

 The look he gave you was also a reason for pause. His brows were pulled together in annoyance though you didn’t think it was directed at you. This fact seemed to change every second as the irritation in his eyes grew while you tried to regain control of your train of thoughts. Finally after an extremely awkward silence you manage to ask the question you had planned.

 “You seem lost. Is there something I can do to help you find your way?” you ask your heart suddenly pounding in anticipation of what he will say.

 “I am looking for the dwelling of Mr. Baggins.”

 You instantly recognized the name he was asking for. Almost everyone knew Mr. Bilbo as a highly respected hobbit. He was always out on his front porch greeting everyone that passed by his house in the morning. You briefly wondered why Mr. Bilbo would have a dwarf visiting, but so as not to inconvenience the dwarf any more you didn’t dwell on the thought.

 “Oh his hobbit hole is just down this path a bit. You’ll come to a small path that branches off and goes a little up the side of the hill. His door is green. It shouldn’t be hard to find it’s one of the biggest doors in the area.”

 The dwarf mutters a terse thank you before going down the path in the direction you pointed. You watched his back for a few moments before the darkness of the night swallowed his form up. It was only now that you realized the sun had completely disappeared from the horizon. With a gasp you began to jog along the path towards your own hobbit hole with hopes that you wouldn’t be late for the supper preparations.

 In your rush to get home you failed to notice the dwarf that was stopped on the path that was a level higher than the one you were using. He watched on with a faint trace of amusement on his features.

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 The next morning was grocery morning. Like every week before it today was the day you were sent to restock the pantry after a week of feeding hungry people. You always tried to get to the market just as the sun was rising. This was the time the food was the freshest and more people were available to help you get your purchases home. The very first rays of light were appearing above the horizon as you left your hobbit hole behind. In the dim dawn light you relied on mostly your familiarity with the area to get you where you needed to go safely.

 The air was the perfect temperature. It was warm enough you didn’t have to worry about having a coat on, but it was cool enough that there was no worry of you sweating. The perfect weather prompted you to take a detour from your normal route and enjoy it. A few minutes wouldn’t really matter in the greater scheme of the day would it? Besides if you were lucky maybe you could catch a few hints about what was going on at Mr. Bilbo’s hobbit hole.

 As you walked up the gently sloping path you caught sight of a cloud of smoke swirling up into the brightening sky. Thinking your luck was high today and Mr. Bilbo was awake early today you picked up your pace. However, you slowed to a crawl when you realized who it really is. The dwarf you had directed the night before was standing at the fence to Mr. Bilbo’s property. The trail of smoke rose from the pipe clenched between his teeth. You considered turning around and heading back the way you came, but then the dwarf’s eyes flicked up to where you were stopped.  He took the pipe from his mouth and seemed to be waiting for you to make a move. Now you were forced to move towards him. Walking in the opposite direction would just be rude.

 Taking a deep breath you began walking again preparing yourself to make a short greeting and make a hasty retreat.

 “Good morning master dwarf,” you said as you passed being unusually formal. Maybe he wouldn’t even recognize you and you could just-

 “Thorin please.” Or maybe not. You had just passed the dwarf and turned around at this comment.

 “I’m sorry?” you asked in confusion.

 “Call me Thorin. Not master dwarf.”

 “Oh ok.” You’re about to start walking again when Thorin says something else.

 “As I recall this is not the path that leads to the market.”

 “You can hardly be called the expert of these paths.” You teased gaining some courage. “But you’re mainly right. This isn’t the main path to the markets. I had a question for Mr. Bilbo, but I see that he isn’t awake yet.”

 “This question had something to do with me right?”

 “Yeah…” you replied hesitantly hoping your curiosity wouldn’t offend the dwarf.

“Then ask me your question. Mr. Baggins may not be around when you pass by on your return journey.”

 “Then he is going on an adventure?! Where is he going?”

 “To help me and my clan reclaim what is rightfully ours.”

 “And what would that be?” you asked excited that for once someone might have stories to tell you that didn’t have to do with visiting relatives.

 “My home Erebor. The Lonely Mountain, have you heard of it?” You nodded yes. A traveler had mentioned them when you hounded them for stories. You wouldn’t think of actually leaving Hobbiton, but hearing stories was what you lived for. “That’s where we’re going.”

 “Isn’t that over a year long journey though?” you ask wondering just how long you’ll have to wait for stories of the journey.

 “Not if you move quickly.”

 “Well if Mr. Bilbo goes with you will he come back once you have your home back?”

 “That will be his choice to make.”

 “Oh.” You took a pause wondering if this would be the time for you to leave, but then you had another question. “Will you be coming back to visit?” This seemed to catch him off guard for it took him a few moments to respond.

 “If I ever do it will not be for a very long time.” You nodded silently because this was the answer you were expecting. You glanced over at the sun that was now fully above the horizon and realized just how much time you had lost.

 “I really must get going to the market. I wish you all the luck on your journey. Maybe we’ll meet again and you can tell me how your home is doing?”

 “Perhaps.” At this you gave Thorin a small smile before going on your way. At the exact moment that you arrived at the market, the company of dwarves you didn’t meet along with Mr. Bilbo leave the Shire to go on a journey that may cost them their lives.

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It had been little over a year when a commotion at Bag End drew you in to the growing crowd. Mr. Bilbo’s relatives had arrived to take over his hobbit hole and sell all of his things. Everyone assumed he was dead. You held on to the faint hope that he would be returning soon. As sad as it made you, you continued to watch as all of Mr. Bilbo’s stuff is auctioned away. As the last pieces were being brought out someone started shouting from the outer edges of the crowd. Soon what the person was saying was picked up by other people until you could finally understand. By then the source of the shouting was pushing past you, and you caught your first glimpse of Bilbo Baggins in over a year.

 Almost immediately he started arguing with his relatives who didn’t seem happy to see him. After deciding that the conflict would take more than a few minutes to resolve, you slipped out of the crowd and went home.

 As the sun was setting you ventured out of your house once more and traveled the familiar path to Mr. Bilbo’s hobbit hole. As you gently pushed the gate open and stood before the green door, you noticed everything seemed to be peaceful on the inside. You gently knocked on the green door and almost instantly hear the sounds of movement behind the door.  The door opened to Mr. Bilbo’s face looking warily into the night.  His face relaxed however when he realized it wasn’t anyone planning another journey or his troublesome neighbors.

 “Oh (Y/N) it’s only you.”

 “Good evening Mr. Bilbo. I was just stopping by to ask how the adventure went.”

 “Oh come now you aren’t that much younger than I am. Call me Bilbo. And if you really want to hear about it come in. Would you like some tea?”

 “That would be wonderful. Of course I want to hear about your adventures. Did you manage to help Thorin regain Erebor?”

 Bilbo stopped in his tea making. “How do you know Thorin?”

 “I uh- well- I uh-“ you stuttered for a moment forgetting you were probably one of the only hobbits to talk to the dwarf. “I helped him find his way to your home, and then the morning you left we talked a little.” You finally managed to get out.

 “Oh…well  then.” He commented before continuing with the tea. Once the tea is made, Bilbo and you sit in his living room and you listen in rapture to the tales he tells you. He’s only half way through his journey when you are forced to excuse yourself.

 Over the next several years you and Bilbo continued to grow close. You helped him regain some of his sold possessions and he occasionally told you stories. From what you heard, it was extremely unusual that Thorin would talk to you in the casual way he had.

 The first few years you held high hopes that maybe Thorin would come back for a visit even though he said it probably wouldn’t happen. Enough time passed however that you almost forgot of the possibility. And then one night while you were setting plates out for your family someone knocked on your door. Wiping your hands on your dress you opened the door, but froze when you saw who was on the other side. Like the very first time you saw him you were stunned speechless.

 “You act as if you’ve seen a spirit?” he said in that deep voice that you had all but forgotten.