3 An Un(Expected) Journey

I stood in front of Bag End and took it in with a relieved sigh. After six months away, I was finally home.

It was hard to believe that I now considered Bag End my home, ever since the day I first arrived in Middle Earth again and found myself in the company of Bilbo Baggins.

Adjusting wasn't easy at first.

Don't get me wrong, Bilbo was an extraordinary person and a gracious host, but it didn't sit well with me to let him take care of all my expenses. I wasn't a freeloader, after all, even though there were times when my friends paid for me when we went out to eat.

I dared you to say no to free food, especially when it was delicious!

Bilbo almost threw a fit when I told him I couldn't stay at his home without paying him anything, though, but in the end we were able to reach a compromise.

He agreed to accept no more than one silver penny per month from me, although I felt I should have been paying him at least ten times that amount. After all, I was intruding on his home!

But the stubborn hobbit wouldn't have it any other way, so I reluctantly accepted the deal. I didn't really have any other, better options to choose from anyway.

I would have attracted too much attention staying in Bree, especially the meddlesome wizardry kind, and I wanted to avoid any unnecessary scrutiny.

Surprisingly, Bilbo didn't push for my life story. I had expected him to be more curious about me, considering I appeared out of nowhere in the Shire, but he respected my privacy and didn't pry, for which I was grateful.

The only thing he knew about me was the name I chose to go by, Kael, which was derived from my real name, Michael - although he was unaware of that fact - and that I was merely wandering around when I found myself in Hobbiton, which was also true, from a certain point of view.

It had already been three long years since then, and time seemed to fly by.

I had learned so much since my arrival, and yet there was still a part of me that craved more.

Perhaps it was my adventurous nature or my constant desire for adrenaline.

Who was I kidding? It was definitely that.

I adjusted my backpack and climbed the stairs to knock on the familiar door.

Quick footsteps could be heard from inside, and a second later, Bilbo opened the door with a smile on his face. "Kael! You have finally returned! Had I known you were coming today; I would have prepared a feast to celebrate your arrival!"

I chuckled and embraced him. "Hello, Bilbo. I finished my training sooner than expected, so I decided to surprise you."

"And surprise me, you did!" Bilbo laughed joyfully, quickly ushering me inside while trying to take my backpack, to which I gave him an exasperated but fond look.

Heaven forbade I did any actual work in this house.

Sometimes I wondered if Bilbo had been a house-elf in another life, given all the housekeeping he did every day of the week.

Anyway, regarding the training I mentioned, between the odd jobs I found in Bree, which was the only place near Hobbiton where I could find well-paying work, I managed to come across a retired Gondorian swordsman who agreed to train me.

This swordsman, Amarion, had lost a foot in battle and had since then been using a wooden substitute.

He had been released from the Gondorian guard since he couldn't run well with it, though, so he now resided in Bree.

I wasn't sure why he didn't simply stay in Gondor or move somewhere closer to his old home, but I was grateful, nonetheless.

He didn't ask for any payment, claiming that passing on his knowledge to someone capable of wielding it was payment enough.

And then my training began.

He was a skilled swordsman, and in any other occasion I would have fallen short, but thanks to my body's peculiar muscle memory – which was probably Mairon's now that I thought about it - I learned how to wield a sword faster than expected.

I wasn't a master by any means, but Amarion believed that with daily practice and hard work, I could become one someday.

The most important thing is that I had made it back in time for Bilbo's 50th birthday, a date I had been anticipating for quite some time. If my calculations were correct and nothing changed, Gandalf would arrive in less than seven months.

I sat in my usual seat in the sitting room and retrieved one of the bags I had brought from Bree. I waited until Bilbo placed the tea set on the table and handed him the bag with an affectionate smile.

"Happy Birthday, Bilbo."

Bilbo automatically took the bag, surprised. "Oh, you should not have, Kael!"

I shrugged and leaned back on the chair. "I wanted to. Go on, open it!"

With gentle excitement, Bilbo untied the knot securing the bag and peered inside. His eyes widened with delight as he carefully retrieved the gift, cradling it in his hands.

"Oh," he whispered, a smile spreading across his face, "this is…"

I chuckled, looking at the red-leather-bound book that would one day contain the story of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings: the Red Book of Westmarch.

"I remember you telling me how much you loved stories," I began, feeling a little nervous. What if he didn't like it? What if giving him the book altered the course of events, and he didn't embark on the quest?

"You are one of the best storytellers I have ever met, so I thought this would be a fitting gift for when you want to write your own story," I rambled, feeling my cheeks flush slightly in embarrassment when Bilbo suddenly laughed.

"This is the best gift I have ever received, lad," Bilbo said, looking at me with gratitude. "Thank you for this, truly. I will treasure it forever."

I cleared my throat and tried to hold back my tears. "Yes, well. There is still another gift."

"Oh, my! Another one? Goodness gracious!"

I snickered and threw him a small package with flower seeds in them, which he deftly caught with his unoccupied hand. "For your garden. I know you have been looking for the right flowers to plant, and I believe these will serve you well."

While they may not have the same importance in the story as Bilbo's book, flowers could mean many things.

The ones I chose for Bilbo were especially for him, and to thank him for everything he had done for me.

"What do they mean?" Bilbo asked, well aware that flowers had a special language to them, which I had told him the year before.

I rose from the seat to approach him, and I slowly pointed at the different seeds to convey their meaning.

"Bluebells, humility, and gratitude; Chamomile, patience in adversity; Coriander, hidden worth; Edelweiss, courage, and devotion; Goldenrod, encouragement, and good fortune; Sunflowers, friendship, and long-lasting happiness."

When I finished, Bilbo was blinking rapidly, as if to stave off tears, and I gently took both the book and the bag of seeds and put them on the table.

"I know this may seem like too much, Bilbo," I said softly, "but you really are worth this and so much more, and I value our friendship very much, more than any treasure in this earth and beyond it. You have helped me without any obligation whatsoever and you have treated me with kindness when you did not have to. You really do deserve this, Bilbo, and I truly hope, one day, you can see it too."

I let out a dramatic oof when Bilbo threw himself at me in a tackle hug and he gave a startled laugh.

"Thank you," he whispered, his little face hidden in my robes, "thank you so much."

"No, Bilbo," I replied, "thank you."

It turned out to be the best birthday party of all times.

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"Grow for me, little one," I whispered, the Quenya words leaving my lips as naturally as breathing, "grow, bloom, find the light."

The little sunflower trembled and curled around my extended finger, little buds slowly surging through the earth to join the first one, until the small patch of the garden Bilbo had chosen for the sunflowers was filled with yellow blossoms and grabby emerald, green leaves.

A sharp breath sounded from behind me, and I slightly turned my head to see Bilbo looking at the new flowers with an awed expression.

"When you told me plants liked you, this was not quite what I had in mind," Bilbo admitted, crouching down to observe them closely.

He remained silent as I tended to the garden. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, "Was that Sindarin? It did not sound like it."

I hummed and moved to another patch of earth, where a goldenrod tilted downwards to brush against my hand.

Bilbo laughed in delight.

"No," I eventually answered, not looking away from the flower, "it was Quenya, the first language of the Elves. It seems plants are particularly fond of it."

"Oh," he whispered, "may I ask how you know it, then?"

I paused for a moment, not because I didn't want to answer him, but because I had no idea how to.

The language seemed to be ingrained in my mind, along with Sindarin and what I presumed to be Valarin - which I preferred to avoid for now. The languages of the elves I could still explain. Valarin, on the other hand…if someone found out I could speak it my disguise wouldn't last long.

Anyway, these three languages made perfect sense to me, along with Common, which was another surprise, as I had been speaking it since I first arrived in Middle-Earth, and I hadn't even realized it.

It all sounded like English to me, but I had discovered that if I focused on what I was saying, I could discern different sounds that formed a completely new language.

"I do not remember learning it," I finally told Bilbo, who looked at me in surprise. "It is just there in my mind, and I know what it is called and how to speak it."

Bilbo mused, "Curious. How is it possible to know a language without any memories of having learned it?"

"Some questions, Bilbo, are better left unanswered," I sighed, moving on to another patch of earth, not even blinking anymore at the plants that seemed to grow just by me being near them.

I wondered if it was because I knew Quenya like the elves, or it was something else.

Could the plants feel the inner fire of Mairon?

Fire was life, after all, and if there's one thing plants loved, it was warmth. And I was full of that warmth now. I couldn't even feel the cold anymore, not really.

After all, fire was Mairon's affinity.

I didn't know how to feel about that.

The thought of me becoming Mairon forever still haunted me. When I took his identity, it was just to have some fun and to be able to explain to the others who I was in a way that made sense, but now…

Now I was Mairon. But even if my name was similar to his, I wasn't him.

Was I?

Would Michael eventually disappear so that Mairon could live?

I didn't know, and that scared me.

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"The price went up, again? How is that possible? It is too much, surely!"

I discreetly observed the appalled woman who had just asked the question to one of the vegetable sellers in Hobbiton. The hobbit behind the stall shrugged and swiftly took the bag of greens from her frozen hands.

"No money, no goods," he grumbled. Sensing her distress, I decided to intervene.

"What is going on here?" I asked pleasantly, catching the attention of both hobbits, who looked at me with clear surprise on their faces.

"None of your business, that's what," the seller muttered once he got over his shock. I leaned closer with a small smile.

"Now, now, let us not be hasty," I chuckled, pretending to peruse the goods. "I distinctly remember seeing another supplier selling these same vegetables at half the price not ten minutes ago."

The hobbit didn't say anything, but his jaw tightened in frustration.

"I am sure this lovely lady would not mind paying the 15 copper pieces that these are truly worth instead of the 30 you are demanding from her," I said softly, and the hobbit reluctantly accepted the fair payment, handing over the vegetables to the relieved woman.

He then snatched the bag and practically threw it at her. "There. Now scram."

I smiled coldly at him. "Pleasure doing business with you," I said, before turning my attention back to the woman. "I apologize for the inconvenience, my lady. Some people always try to take advantage of others."

"Oh, no," she said, flushing with embarrassment, "don't worry about it, mister. And I am certainly not a lady! I am Lily, Lily Brown!"

I smiled at her and stepped away. "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Lily Brown. I am called Kael. May you have a pleasant day."

"That I shall! Thank you again, Mr. Kael!"

I waved my hand and headed back to Bag End with the purchases I had made earlier.

I had bought enough food for a feast, and I couldn't help but feel that the important date I had been waiting for was fast approaching.

Besides, it never hurt to have more food than needed in the pantry.

The more, the better, right?

I reached Bag End in no time, but as I approached, I noticed something alarming. Bilbo was inside, contrary to his usual routine of smoking outside.

And his door had a blue rune scratched onto it.

Bloody hell.

Gandalf had just arrived, and I had narrowly avoided encountering him. And now he was bringing thirteen dwarves with him for dinner, thirteen very hungry dwarves.

Poor, innocent Bilbo had no idea of the trouble that was about to descend upon him in just a few hours.

I hurried up the stairs and knocked on the door. "Bilbo! There is a magic rune on your door! Have you, by any chance, encountered a wizard while I was out?"

The door quickly opened, revealing Bilbo's exasperated expression as he saw the mark I was pointing at.

"Oh my!" he exclaimed, attempting to remove the mark with his sleeve – and failing miserably. I didn't have the heart to tell him that he wouldn't be able to remove a magic-made mark with a mere clothe.

"What has Gandalf done this time? I specifically told him I had no interest in any adventures around here! This could be classified as vandalism! Vandalism, I say! And I just had it painted!"

I sighed, remembering the meaning of that particular rune. "Well, he certainly seems to think you are a burglar of some sort, searching for an adventure."

Bilbo's head snapped towards me, his expression a mix of surprise and indignation. "A burglar?! I am not a burglar! I have never stolen a thing in my life! He knows this!! And I told him I wanted no part in any adventures whatsoever!"

I chuckled. "Tell him that yourself, Bilbo. I have a feeling he is going to arrive with more people for supper, expecting you to have a feast prepared."

Bilbo looked pale. "More people? In my house? How many, exactly?" he squeaked, and I couldn't help but smile with reluctant amusement.

"I hear thirteen may be associated with undesirable dinner guests, these days. And that is not counting Gandalf, so let us make it fourteen, just to be safe."

"Fourteen?!" Bilbo exclaimed. "Fourteen people?! Are you sure? What is that meddling wizard thinking?!"

I walked past Bilbo toward the kitchen. "We are talking about Gandalf here, Bilbo. I do not believe he really thinks these things through. He probably just finds it amusing."

"I will start preparing the table so that it is ready when they arrive," I called out, hoping that Bilbo snapped out of his shock. "Then I can help you with the cooking, although I must warn you, it is not one of my strong suits."

Bilbo suddenly seemed to unfreeze, and his inherent Baggins side reared his head with all the force of a raging dragon – an apt comparison, considering where exactly we would be going. And I would be going with Bilbo, even if I had to fight Thorin himself to do it.

Bilbo practically slammed the door closed and ran into the pantry. "Oh, my! We have so many things to do and so little time! I should have started days ago! Oh, why did Gandalf find the need to do this to me? He could have at least warned me ahead of time!"

"He also seems to be expecting you to work as a burglar for whatever it is they wish to accomplish," I reminded him, and he tutted disapprovingly.

"I am a Baggins, not a burglar," he sniffed, "I will host this group, but then they can go their merry way and leave me be. A burglar," he said again, affronted, while heading towards the kitchen. "Why, I never!"

As Bilbo hurried off to prepare for the unexpected guests, I set about arranging the dining table and making it look presentable. I had a feeling this was going to be a memorable evening, to say the least.

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I severely misinterpreted how others would take to my presence here.

I glanced down at Dwalin, who looked back at me with an almost furious expression. He was a formidable warrior and a fiercely loyal friend, but he was also one of the most suspicious dwarves in all of Middle-Earth. I inwardly cursed my elven-like, divine looks to hell.

"What is this nasty, pointy-eared tree hugger doing here?!" he asked, his voice filled with anger. I sighed, already disillusioned with Thorin's company without having even met the others.

"I am no Elf, Master Dwarf," I said wearily, showing him my rounded ear. He abruptly closed his mouth, perhaps refraining from throwing another insult towards the elven race.

"Although you are certainly not the first one to think so," I sighed, remembering that most Hobbits had initially mistaken me for an Elf.

I couldn't entirely blame them, though. I was too tall and too attractive to be a man.

Even now, I sometimes stopped to look at my reflection and wondered who the person staring back at me was.

At least my eyes no longer appeared golden. They were more of a hazel color now, which was still rare but not as fucking weird as having two small fiery lanterns for eyes.

Bilbo suddenly peeked out from behind my legs. "Oh, you must be the first guest!" he exclaimed, and I stepped aside so he could greet the dwarf properly.

"Dwalin, at your service," he grumbled, still giving me suspicious looks.

"Bilbo Baggins at yours," Bilbo quickly replied. Seeing that he had everything under control, I wisely retreated back to the kitchen to tend to the final stoves and avoid any more glowers directed at me.

It was probably for the best that Bilbo handled the hosting duties.

Given Dwalin's reaction upon seeing me, it was likely that the other dwarves would also mistake me for an Elf, and I would prefer not to repeat myself more than once.

Some time passed before the doorbell rang again, by which point I had finished roasting the chicken.

"Balin, at your service," I heard, followed by Bilbo reciprocating the greeting.

Then came the familiar thud I had been anticipating: the sound of two dwarves head-butting each other.

I chuckled, amused.

As I placed the chicken on a plate, accompanied by some vegetables and condiments, Fili and Kili arrived.

"That is my mother's glory box! Can you please not do that!" Bilbo's exasperated voice reached my ears, bringing a smile to my face. With the plate holding the chicken and two others beside it, I started to make my way towards the dining room.

And just as I approached, the doorbell rang again. Bilbo, who had gone to answer it, already appeared exasperated with the dwarves – a feeling I could understand.

He narrowly avoided the eight new arrivals who stumbled and fell into a pile in front of him when he opened the door.

"Gandalf," he sighed, peering up at a certain someone.

I closed my eyes, preparing myself for the inevitable interrogation I would, without a doubt, be subjected to by the meddling old wizard. Hopefully, I'd be able to avoid most of his questioning.

Who was I kidding? This was Gandalf we were talking about.

I was fucked.

I opened my eyes, taking in a deep breath.

Well, que sera, sera.

Time to face the music.

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Alright, I…wasn't expecting Gandalf to be so short.

What the fuck.

Rationally, I knew I wasn't in the movie universe, but it wasn't the books either! It was some unheavenly mix between the two.

Seriously, though.

What the fuck.

He was somewhere around 5'6''.

I didn't remember Isildur, for example, being as tall as in the books – when he was supposed to be if the heights were to be believed – so how the heck did this work??

You know what? I'd just forget about all the confusing differences between books and movies and pretend I was in a different universe altogether.

It's not like it was important, anyway.

It was just shocking.

Anyway, Gandalf's height didn't affect his presence in the least. Even then, he still looked like some wise king of ancient legend, his eyes reminding me of coals that would leap into the fire and burn you if you weren't careful. Those very same eyes were observing me eerily now, but thankfully for me, there was still no recognition from them, so maybe he hadn't automatically identified me as Mairon. Did Elrond and the others even tell him about me?

"And who might you be? I do not remember seeing you around these parts," he spoke, his voice a deep sound that seemed to reverberate around Bag End.

Talk about a dramatic entrance.

"You may call me Kael," I said and bowed my head slightly in greeting, which Gandalf surprisingly returned, "Bilbo was kind enough to let me stay with him when I ended up in front of his doorstep three years ago."

"Indeed?" Gandalf hummed, but fortunately for my nerves, before he could ask me any more unwanted questions, Bilbo appeared and tugged at my sleeve to get my attention.

"Kael," he huffed, "the chicken."

I blinked down at the plates I had been holding and smiled.

"My apologies, Bilbo," I chuckled, following after his quick footsteps towards the dining room, "it seems I had quite forgotten I was carrying these."

The hobbit waved it off and carefully took the biggest plate from my hands. "It is alright," he laughed, "Gandalf does seem to make quite an impression, does he not?"

I inwardly rolled my eyes while pretending I hadn't seen Gandalf eavesdropping on us shamelessly.

"I would not go that far," I told Bilbo, but before he could do anything else, I felt twelve pairs of eyes on me – don't ask me how I knew it was 12 pairs. I honestly have no clue – and I looked up to see all the dwarves gazing at me with various emotions, one of which was rapidly approaching the strong dislike all dwarves seemed to have for elves.

So before they could start screaming at me, I lifted my hand.

"Good evening. I am not an elf, even if I am tall and pretty like one, so I would appreciate it if you did not start insulting me. Thank you, and it is a pleasure to meet all of you, even if your arrival was not exactly known in advance. Oh, and you may call me Kael."

After saying my piece, I nodded decisively and put the last plates on the table, after which I sat on one of the human-sized chairs we had picked before.

I looked up and frowned when I noticed the room was completely silent, and all the dwarves were staring at me.

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

I wasn't glowing or anything, was I? Feeling a little panicked, I looked down at myself and sighed in relief when there was no brilliant light emanating from my skin.

"My apologies," a dwarf who reminded me of a small Santa Claus said then, "I fear we were just taken aback by your appearance, Mr.…Kael, was it?"

I nodded, leaning back on my seat. "It is quite alright. I have to admit I am used to it by now. May I inquire as to what your names are?"

The dwarf smiled and nodded his head. "Balin, at your service. Here you have Fili and Kili," the twins both smiled in greeting and raised their mugs, "Dori, Nori, and Ori," they nodded, "Oin and Gloin," they both grunted, "Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, and here is my brother Dwalin."

Dwalin rolled his eyes and took a swig of his ale. "We've met," he grumbled.

I sighed. "Ah, yes. It was certainly a greeting to remember. Nasty, pointy-eared tree hugger, was it?"

Fili and Kili roared with laughter, and the other dwarves tried to contain their snickers while Balin just looked disapprovingly at his brother, although I could tell he wasn't really mad at him.

"Wait," Fili said once he finished laughing, "you said our arrival was not known in advance. What do you mean? We were told we would find a burglar here to help us in our quest. Did Master Baggins not know we were coming ahead of time?"

Bilbo grumbled and took a seat for himself next to mine. "If by ahead of time you mean ten hours, then sure, I did know ahead of time."

Balin looked as scandalized as one could be. "Gandalf!" He suddenly exclaimed, "what is the meaning of this? Are you telling me that you warned Master Baggins there was to be a meeting the same day of said meeting? But surely you informed him about the quest!"

Gandalf choked on the smoke from his pipe. "W-well…," he said between coughs, "when you say inform…," he trailed off when he caught sight of Balin's quickly changing face to that of pure fury.

"Gandalf!"

Bilbo seemed to be rejoicing on Gandalf's mounting panic if the sharp smile on his face was anything to go by. "And he did not even think to tell me how many guests we would be having. We had to guess so that we may prepare the food accordingly! And he vandalized my door!"

Now all the other dwarves were starting to look shocked and angry.

Gandalf seemed to be sinking onto his seat with every damning word that left Bilbo's lips.

"In fact," the hobbit went on, his eyes practically sparkling with glee, "he did not let me have a choice in the matter! Told me I would go on an adventure, just like that, because it would be good for me and most amusing for him! He did not even listen when I told him I had no interest in any adventures, thank you very much, and to go find himself another hobbit! I have never even stolen anything! I am not a burglar! I am a Baggins!"

He finished his ranting with a solemn nod and poured himself some ale.

There was silence for three seconds straight, and then the dwarves practically exploded.

"I cannot believe this! Gandalf, how could you!"

"I always knew wizards were bad news…doing something like that! I say!"

"Is that why Mr. Boggins was so scandalized when we came in, brother?"

"I think that is only because you were cleaning your boots on his mother's glory box, Kili…"

"It's Baggins!"

"Well, Tharkûn, you certainly have a flair for the dramatics, do you not?"

"I am sure Mr. Gandalf did not mean it like that…"

"ENOUGH!" Gandalf suddenly stood up and yelled, the shadows seemingly getting bigger and higher with every word that left his lips and echoed through the whole house. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!"

He blatantly ignored my mutter of 'I'm pretty sure that's not how it works' and went to say something else when the doorbell rang, at which point he seemed to deflate.

"He is here."

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Once I reassured Thorin Oakenshield that I was, in fact, not an elf, the whole meeting went just like in the story, with some casual remarks against Gandalf's meddlesome ways and some sarcastic comments uttered by yours truly that usually left either Fili, Kili, Bilbo, or all three snickering like children.

The whole plan of action was the same: reach the Lonely Mountain, find the secret door, enter said mountain, and reclaim Erebor. Easy.

Well, easy for me. They had no idea how to actually read the map, naively believing the dragon was dead because no one had heard anything about him, and they didn't know where the secret door was located or how to find it.

And there was another problem. With the Ring destroyed, Bilbo wouldn't be able to do half the things he did in the original story, so the Company would never even reach Mirkwood. They would get eaten by spiders first. And would the spiders even be there?

The Goblin Caves, Bilbo could probably escape, seeing as Smeagol never turned into Gollum, but he could still get lost or killed by a goblin – didn't one fall down with him?

In short, it was a disaster waiting to happen.

I tuned back to the conversation to hear Kili telling Fili that there was another way in.

"If we can find it," Gandalf said, "but dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies somewhere in this map, but I do not have the skill to find it, although there are others in Middle-Earth who can."

"When you say others…," my sentence trailed off when the old man threw me a look. "Right. Shutting up now."

"This task will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage," Gandalf finished, gazing at Bilbo, who looked at him with suspicion.

"Gandalf," the hobbit started, clearing his throat when he saw all the dwarves had turned towards him, "I have told you already, I am not a burglar. And I cannot leave Bag End, I have responsibilities here!"

Gandalf puffed on his pipe. "Responsibilities to tend to your flowers, Bilbo? I seem to recall a small fauntling running around, searching for creatures in the forest, who wanted to go on adventures and see the elves! Whatever happened to him?"

"He grew up, Gandalf!" Bilbo exclaimed, and he promptly took all the plates the dwarves had previously tidied up and left towards the kitchen, huffing all the while.

"That went well," I said sarcastically.

Gandalf's eyes shifted to me, and his eyebrows scrunched in obvious frustration. "And who are you, really? I have never seen you before, and you do not look like a normal man. Is Kael even your real name?" he asked suspiciously.

God, I was getting worried he'd never ask. I seemed to remember Gandalf was somewhat protective of Bilbo, so one would have thought seeing a stranger living in Bilbo's home would have warranted a little suspicion since the beginning.

"Is Gandalf even your real name?" I returned in kind, and I almost burst out laughing at his frustrated face.

That's right, Olórin. I'm onto you, you meddlesome bastard – and I said that with all the love in the world because I truly liked Gandalf, but the guy could be one hell of a pain in the ass sometimes.

Case in point, he had essentially brought thirteen people to Bilbo's house and expected him to join a quest that could potentially have him killed just because he thought it would be good for him. And he had ignored Bilbo's wishes – even if he was right in that Bilbo needed a little excitement in his life – of remaining behind instead of going on a crazy adventure to steal from a fire-breathing, deadly dragon that was half a world away from his home.

And he thought Bilbo would accept this, just like that???

I mean, who does that?!

Let's be honest, the only reason Bilbo accepted in the original story was that he pitied the dwarves who had lost their home, and also because his Took side came out, rearing its head.

Sure, after some time, he became friends with the Company, and he honestly wanted to help them, but had it not been for that, Bilbo would have certainly stayed in Bag End.

"Does the burglar truly have responsibilities here?" Thorin butted in once it became clear that neither Gandalf nor I were going to continue sniping at each other.

"Of course not." "In a sense, yes."

Gandalf and I answered at the same time and looked at each other with confusion.

"Bilbo is a landlord," I slowly told Gandalf, who frowned even further, clearly not understanding my meaning.

I snorted. "And you wonder why he does not want to come. Do you really know him as much as you claim to, Gandalf? Be honest, when was the last time you two actually saw each other?"

Gandalf huffed and puffed on his pipe. "What does that have to do with anything? Bilbo is a Took, is he not? Why would he want to stay here instead of out there, seeing what the world has to offer?"

"I get your point, I do," I admitted, "but you are going the wrong way about it. You cannot just expect him to drop everything to accompany people he does not even know on a journey that may even kill him. You cannot just expect him to disappear from the face of the Shire, him, the Thain's grandson, without notice, with no clear assurance of ever returning, just because you thought it a good idea for him to play burglar in front of a raging dragon."

"The Thain's what," Thorin said flatly.

"Oh," I said, trying to look innocent, "did I not say that before? Bilbo's grandfather is Gerontius Took, the twenty-sixth Thain of the Shire. In other words, he is practically royalty."

Thorin looked dead inside, Fili and Kili's jaw dropped, Balin's eyes widened, Dwalin made a surprised grunt, and Bombur fell from his seat.

Gandalf just shifted as if he wanted to strangle me.

Tough luck, Olórin. If you truly want Bilbo to come with you, there can be no secrets around him – except for mine, although it would not stay secret for long, and I was already planning on how to tell Bilbo before we reached Rivendell.

And it had to be done right this time. I would not have Lobelia Sackville-Baggins raiding Bilbo's home like in the original story, not on my watch!

Bag End would stay Bag End until Bilbo returned.

And he would return because I'd be going with him.

-------------------------------

While Thorin chewed Gandalf out, I found Bilbo sitting on his favorite armchair in front of the fire. He looked to be in deep thought, but when he noticed me come in, he sighed.

"I do not know why I am even considering this," Bilbo laughed humorlessly, "I must be getting mad."

I walked closer and slowly sat in the armchair next to his. "I think you being a good person has something to do with it, Bilbo," I told him kindly, "I know it must be frightening to leave the only home you have ever known, to abandon your tranquil and quiet life for a group of people you have just met. But sometimes…sometimes our hearts call us to something else, something that we wish to experience, something in our lives that we want to change, if only for a bit, so that we may know new things and find that the world was not as little as we had thought at first. Gandalf was right about seeing what the world has to offer, Bilbo, although I will admit that the way he went about it was wrong."

Bilbo snorted. "That meddlesome wizard. Always getting his nose in matters that do not concern him," he grumbled, but he didn't seem mad, just contemplative.

I stood up from my seat and crouched down in front of Bilbo. "My friend," I said, "this decision is yours. But I want you to know that whatever you decide, you will have me by your side. You will not be alone, and I am sure Gandalf will be keeping an eye on you. He does care about you."

Bilbo reached out and patted my hand affectionately. "I would not ask that of you, Kael. As you said, Gandalf will be there, so you do not have to come. You could stay in Bag End and look after it for me."

I raised my eyebrows. "Or," I began, "you could write a letter to your grandfather explaining the situation so that he may keep track of your tenants, and you could just ask Hamfast to stay in Bag End and take care of it until you return. That way, Lobelia will not bother you, nor will she bother your silver spoons."

Bilbo blinked. "That is not actually a bad idea," he stopped suddenly, "wait, why am I even considering this? I was not going to go on this adventure—I mean, quest! I am a Baggins!" he repeated again, although this time he didn't sound as convinced as before. To be honest, it sounded like he was trying to fool himself into believing that he would never go with the dwarves, when we both knew he was just delaying the inevitable.

"Think about all the things you could write in that book of yours, Bilbo," I said innocently, "I did get it so that you could write your story, did I not? What do you think would be more interesting, a tale of how to take care of daisies or the journey to the Lonely Mountain to steal from a dragon?"

Bilbo waggled his finger in front of my face. "I know what you are doing, Kael. You are trying to convince me to go. Whatever happened to 'it is my decision'?"

I chortled. "Oh, we both know you have already decided, Bilbo. You are just trying to fool yourself into believing you are not also a Took. Come on, when is the next opportunity to see the world like this going to present itself? This is a one-time thing."

Bilbo huffed. "I am not sure..."

"They are going to Rivendell, you know," I whispered softly and laughed at Bilbo, who was trying to look the other way as if he didn't have any interest in what I was saying.

"You will be able to meet the elves…Elrond half-elven will be there…"

Bilbo let out a quiet whimper.

"And there is a strong chance that Glorfindel will also be there…you know, the Balrog-Slayer."

"Oh, alright!" Bilbo exclaimed, trying to look angry and failing miserably. "I will be coming along! Happy?"

I stood up with a flourish. "Immensely," I told Bilbo, who huffed and looked away with a blush.

"I am not going just because you said there would be elves. I did feel bad when the dwarves said they had lost their home."

"Of course, Bilbo. But you have to admit that the promise to see the elves is very attracting."

Bilbo grumbled. "Yes, and that silver tongue of yours is hard to resist. Are you quite sure you do not wish to stay instead?"

I laughed brightly. "And miss all the fun? Not a chance!"

"We are both mad, that is for sure."

I snorted and led the way to the dining room. "Oh, the world would be so boring without a little madness in it, Bilbo! Now, let us inform our guests that they just gained two more members to their Company!"

"Yes, yes. Lest I change my opinion. Just so you know, though, I will be blaming you if that dragon eats me."

"I sincerely doubt he would like your taste very much, Bilbo—oi! What are you doing with that spoon? Ow! Did you just throw a spoon at my head? Bilbo! Come back here!"

-------------------------------

Gandalf looked completely flummoxed when Bilbo and I signed our respective contracts, and he even pulled me aside to ask how on earth I had convinced Bilbo to go. He even seemed to forget his suspicions against me for a moment.

"Well, I just talked to him," I told him, looking as if he had asked me something stupid. Which he had. "You know, instead of throwing a quest at him and expecting him to go without explaining the situation calmly."

Gandalf grumbled. "Still, you must have done something."

"Sometimes, all it takes to convince someone is a good argument, Gandalf. I just appealed to his Took side with some emotions mixed into it. It worked wonders."

The wizard hummed and peered at me closely. "There is something about you, Kael," he muttered, "and I do not know what it is yet, but I intend to find out."

I snorted and walked towards the room Bilbo had lent me since I arrived, so that I could prepare my bags for the journey ahead. "Best of luck to you, wizard. Trying to solve my mystery is going to be good for you and most amusing for me."

I cackled all the way to the bedroom, leaving Gandalf sulking in the corner.

Mairon – 1, Olórin – 0.

-------------------------------

"Are you sure you have everything, Bilbo?" I asked him, leaning on the doorway.

The hobbit was rechecking his bag, muttering under his breath, and he finally finished and took two letters from his nightstand.

"Yes, I believe I am quite ready now. Are you sure you do not wish to stay, Kael?"

I rolled my eyes. "I told you already, Bilbo. I am not going to leave you alone in the company of thirteen dwarves."

"Gandalf will be there, though," he pointed out.

I shrugged. "Most of the time, sure. But he could well decide that he has had enough of dwarves and just disappear for as long as he wishes."

Bilbo sputtered, running after me when he saw me going towards the main door with my own pack thrown over my shoulders.

"Gandalf would not do that, would he?"

I hummed.

"Would he?" He squeaked out after my noncommittal answer.

"It does not matter, because I will be there, Bilbo. Now, let us give these letters to Hamfast so that we may go our merry way."

Bilbo had written his grandfather to tell him he was going on a life-changing journey, although he did not mention we were going to encounter a live dragon. He was sure his grandfather wouldn't have let him go otherwise, even if he was an adult.

He also gave Bag End's keys to Hamfast Gamgee, his gardener, so that he may take care of his house in his absence and protect it from any unwanted grabby hands.

After he talked to Hamfast, Bilbo and I left Hobbiton behind, the excitement of the coming adventure brimming in our veins.

Nothing could ruin this moment.

"Kael! We must go back! I have forgotten my handkerchief!"

"I have your handkerchief, Bilbo."

"Oh. Well then."

Nothing at all.