Chapter Text
When Erebor was first reclaimed, it had been nothing but a colossal wreck. Large ruins of pillars of stone and long forgotten carvings lay crumbled around the ground, intricately chiselled statues covered in cracks and chips all around as dust coated every single surface possible. All in all, the sight wasn’t one to behold, and it was nothing like the stories Bilbo had been told about by some of the older members of the company. However, the Hobbit didn’t voice any of these opinions, as the Dwarves seemed happy to still be alive to see the once fallen kingdom, fighters from Dale, Mirkwood, and the Iron Hills all gathered around to admire the ruins of the castle that once stood tall and proud.
Well, all except for Bilbo.
The Hobbit stood back, not daring to involve himself in the celebration or large crowd that had formed as he slunk around the Elven medic tents that had been set up after the Battle that had just taken place. Miraculously, nobody from the Dwarven company had died, most damage down were a few leg and arm injuries that would have to be regularly treated- lest said Dwarf risk an infection. And truly, Bilbo was astounded that nobody had acquired a dangerous injury, or would be bed-ridden for the rest of their days, but he couldn’t bring himself to join the celebrations. After all, he still had no clue as to whether he was allowed back into the mountain after his spiel with the Arkenstone.
Bitterly, Thorin thought back to the cursed rock, and how it was undoubtedly sat somewhere in Thranduil’s royal tent, ripe for the picking, and the inevitable plunging in the deep lakes of Lake Town. Honestly, the temptation to throw the damned thing into the deep and chilling waters was far too strong for the little creature to push aside, and he felt his fingers itching to get around the rock only to feel the satisfaction of it releasing from his grip- never to be seen again.
Yet he shook his head, and turned away. Instead, he wandered around aimlessly, wondering if the Elven king would be king enough to lend him a pack and a pony for his journey back to Erebor, maybe even see if he could steal a few pieces of bread for himself on the way back.
”And just what are you doing, laddie?” A familiar voice called out, and Bilbo felt a small smile tug at his lips once the slightly gravelly voice of Balin reached his leaf-shaped ears. The Hobbit nearly turned around and grinned at the old Dwarf, yet he kept himself calm and collected, well aware that Balin’s standing of royal advisor could mean that Bilbo may be charged for his crimes against Erebor- especially since he stole from the king himself.
”Advisor Balin, I was just walking.” He replied, keeping a respectful distance, even as Balin rolled his eyes with a slight fondness.
”Laddie, you know you don’t have to use such titles with me.” He insisted with a wave of his hand, before raising an eyebrow. “And why aren’t you engaging in the celebration? Last I heard it was you who saved our king and the princes from being killed up on Raven Hill.” Balin mused aloud, and Bilbo felt a shiver run through him at the mention of the dreaded moment.
”Be as that may, I am still meant to be outlawed from Erebor.” He retorted with a sad tone, noting how Balin’s smile slowly fell as his brows furrowed. Bilbo nearly felt guilty for the way the advisor’s expression immediately turned grim, yet he kept those feelings of guilt to himself as Balin took a step forward and set a hand on the Hobbit’s shoulder.
"Bilbo, you know what Thorin said was under the influence of the dragon's gold." He explained, hand squeezing the Hobbit's shoulders reassuringly when he nodded in acknowledgment.
"Be that as it may, I wouldn't hold it against Thorin, or any other member of the company, to wish for me to be gone." Bilbo answered back, shrugging his shoulders slightly as Balin took his hands back, holding them limply by his sides as the elder Dwarf nodded his head.
"Aye laddie, I won't stop you, if that's what you wish for." He murmured, smiling sadly at the Hobbit as Bilbo turned and walked away to the tent the Elves had been kind enough to lend to him for the time being. However, as soon as the Hobbit was in his tent, the advisory turned around, a look of determination set on his face as he marched over to the celebrating members of the company. Just because the stubbornness of one Hobbit rivalled the stubbornness of one Dwarf, did not mean it would rival the stubbornness of thirteen Dwarves.
Bilbo was suddenly filled with a feeling of dread as he packed his sack for the journey back, Bard had been king enough to lend him the pitiful bag when he learned of the Hobbit's plans to leave Erebor, giving him a sort of sad smile before he went about managing the repairs of Lake Town. Truly, Bilbo would hold the kindness of the now king very closely to his heart, even if he may never return to Lake Town, he would be sure to tell the tales of the bowman who succeeded in slaying a dragon. Yavanna, he may even write a book about the brave man. Yet that was a plan for when he returned to his smial, right now he should focus on the journey there.
Unfortunately, he couldn't find a pony to borrow from neither Elf nor Human, and he certainly wasn't planning on asking the King of the Iron Hills for a wild boar for his trip back to the Shire- Yavanna knows how the residents would react to his return on a pig of all things! So, he would unfortunately, have to settle with walking for now, until he managed to find a king traveller or seller who was willing to offer him a source of transport for his journey back. However, his wares were rather low, as he hadn't dared ask for his claim of the treasure, lest he result in a sword being plunged into his skull, or a war-hammer smashing his head to pieces. No, he would make do for the time being, even if the journey took him another year of sleepless nights and days of non-stop travel.
All of a sudden, his world was plunged into fuzzy darkness, his hands flying up to his head as he felt the familiar sheep-skin muffle his voice and warm his face up. "Bofur! Get your bloody hat off me-!" Bilbo demanded as he pulled the Dwarrow's hat off his head, his brown curls bouncing up and down with the movement as the Hobbit turned to face the offending Dwarf- only to find the tent he had been residing in was now filled with thirteen Dwarrow, all frowning at him. Immediately, he paused, holding Bofur's hat idly in his hands as he stared at all of them in confusion. "What's going on?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "Have I offended you?" He further inquired, worried that the Dwarrow were upset at how long it was taking him to leave.
"Aye you've offended us!" Bofur's voice yelled, throwing his arms to the side in exasperation. Bilbo winced back slightly, holding the hat out for the Dwarf to take, only to receive a firm head shake in response. At Bilbo's confused look, Fíli spoke up, he and Kíli wearing matching frowns.
"You thought we wanted you gone!" He exclaimed, taking a step forward as Kíli nodded his head in agreement to what his brother said. Immediately, Bilbo's gaze snapped to Balin, who was stood near the entrance of the tent, arms crossed and an innocent smile on his face.
"And to think you were going to try and leave without so much as a goodbye!" Dori exclaimed, gaining Bilbo's attention as the Hobbit blinked twice before slowly producing a letter from his pocket. "Oh that's hardly any better!" The Dwarf snapped as he snatched the letter from Bilbo's hand, straightening it out with a single flick of his wrists as the company all leaned in to read what it said- including Thorin, who had been silent the entire time. After a moment of muttering, and offended gasps from several of the Dwarrow, it was Kíli who broke the silence with his cry as he lurched forward, abandoning his cane as he grabbed Bilbo in a tight hug. Immediately after, Ori and Fíli joined the hug, followed by Bofur, Bombur, Bifur and all the other Dwarrow in the company suddenly made some form of physical contact with him.
"I. . . Fear I have mis-interpreted things." Bilbo mused out loud as Thorin settled a hand on his shoulder, leaning in and whispering apology after apology for his prior actions. A muffled 'You think?!' came from somewhere within the hug, and he assumed it was from Kíli, considering the Dwarf had crouched down so that he could bury his face in the fur of Bilbo's coat.
"Aye lad, I think you have." Balin spoke up as he approached the group, leaning forward and clasping Bilbo's free shoulder with his hand, nudging his younger brother Dwalin as the usually stoic Dwarf muttered about dust in the room.
"So does this mean you're staying?" Ori spoke up as he looked at Bilbo hopefully, the Hobbit opening his mouth to respond before-
"-Aye he's bloody staying!" Bofur cut in as he snatched his hat back and planted it on top of Bilbo's head again. "Or else I'm calling a pile on." He grumbled afterwards, getting chuckles to resound throughout the entire group. As funny as the suggestion was, Bilbo had the sinking feeling he didn't want to tempt faith on wether Bofur was being honest or not.
"Well, I suppose I have to know." He spoke up after, getting a cheer from the group before Dori's voice cut in.
"A potato sack! Mr. Baggins I have half a mind to throttle you!" He exclaimed, holding up the sack that held some of Bilbo's items in.