An Unexpected Arrival

It was a prayer, Bilbo decided. That song that had played in his head ever for as long as he could remember could be nothing else. His mother once told him that he was singing that song before he could even speak and he didn't doubt her. Even when he was young, that song had been as much a part of him as his heart and his soul were. He could often be found wandering everywhere singing or humming that song and it was just another thing that made him so very different from the other little hobbits. They all liked to sing happy songs, but Bilbo's song was a story about destruction, pain, and loss wound together with that prayer.

Even before Bilbo knew what the exact meaning of that song was he sang it often, but when he finally understood it as a child sang it at least once a day and tried to sing it more often than that. He didn't know who he was praying for, but he felt that they needed it very much.

Bilbo never told his parents, though, about his realization. He was still a very young hobbit and it somewhat concerned his mother that he would even take the time to sing such a sad song when the others his age sang happy songs. He didn't want to concern her even more by telling her about something so serious as that. Besides, he could feel, even at his young age, that the meaning of the song was a deep secret.

As he continued to grow older, Bilbo continued to understand more and more about his song. He knew that it was about something that had happened a long time ago, in the years of hobbits, but recent enough that it wouldn't be in any of the few history books from other lands that had somehow made their way into the shire. He also knew that he had created this song. At first he didn't quite understand how he managed to do so when he was only just a baby, but then he started seeing the destruction in his dreams. He knew that the song must have come to him in the same way as these memories of a life he hadn't lived. Perhaps he had been reborn, he thought once when he was particularly deep in thought. The song was the last thing that he had done with his life before he died and was reborn as Bilbo Baggins of Bag End.

The one thing that Bilbo still couldn't figure out, though, was who he sang his song for. What race. No matter how hard Bilbo tried to remember, he couldn't recall which of the many big folk in the world beyond the shire would have suffered such flames. Not even in his memories did he ever get a clear picture of what race it had been.

At his young age, though, he was determined to find out.

Bilbo spent many of his young years exploring the forests looking for elves and dwarves and any other such creatures he thought he might have been in his dreams. He was sure it wasn't man. He had seen men from Bree as they passed by the shire and they just felt wrong.

Then, tragedy happened and Bilbo found himself at his coming of age without his mother or his father. He had Bag End all to himself and he couldn't feel more alone. Death was just determined to haunt him and leave him alone with his song to keep praying for others. He stopped going out hunting for fairy tale creatures and, instead, stayed inside his home for many long hours singing his song for no one's ears.

Bilbo became a very respectable Hobbit. Most of the other Hobbits spent many hours in doors, especially if they were as rich as he was, so they thought that he was turning into something respectable like his father. It wasn't some newfound respectableness that had Bilbo retreating to his house to be alone whenever it wasn't absolutely necessary that he be in someone's company. He even tried to avoid the Green Dragon except on the very rare occasion that he needed something stronger than he liked to keep in his house to quell the painful memories that only continued to get stronger as he aged.

Bilbo had become such a recluse that when, finally, a big folk who wasn't a man came to visit him, he drew into himself and acted like the respectable, though somewhat less then hospitable, hobbit the others thought him to be. Gandalf the Grey was a wizard and for a short moment Bilbo wondered if the race he searched for were wizards, but that just sounded wrong so he threw that idea away almost immediately. Then Gandalf had to go and ask him on a journey and he wanted to say yes, he wanted more than anything to leap at the chance and find the people that he had been looking for, but fear also overtook him; he had such bad luck with death, what was there to say that he would even survive long enough to find his people.

Gandalf would have none of that, though he thought that the reason for Bilbo's denial was because he had started to become what the others were saying he was.

The next night there was a knock on the door that shocked Bilbo. No one, other than his gardener who wouldn't come this late at night, ever tried to bother him because deep down they knew that he was still somewhat strange. He opened the door and found not a hobbit, but a dwarf covered in tattoos from his head to the tips of his fingers. He was gruff and pushed his way into Bilbo's house while introducing himself as Dwalin. Bilbo found himself allowing it despite himself.

And then another named Balin, who was apparently Dwalin's brother if their greeting meant anything, came.

And then two more by the names of Fili and Kili came. They were obviously brothers by the way they acted, but Bilbo knew this for a deeper reason that he couldn't quite explain.

Then Dori, Nori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Gloin, and Oin came tumbling in when he opened his door to the next tap and behind them Gandalf stood laughing at the dwarves' clumsiness.

All of these dwarves, and one wizard, Bilbo let into his house. He did complain somewhat, his recluse ways were still clinging to him and he was very unwilling to give that up at this moment, but still he found the liveliness of the company in his house made him happier than he had been in several years. Even when he was running after them as they threw his dishes around, he found that he was having more fun than his feelings of fear could quench.

One more knock came at the door and Bilbo went to answer it, hoping that he wouldn't have to quell off one or two of his neighbors after the rowdiness that was happening in his house, but Gandalf was already opening the door and introducing Bilbo to Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of their company.

As soon as Bilbo laid eyes on the newest dwarf to enter his little hobbit hole, he felt more at home than he had felt since the death of his parents. It just felt right.

Almost immediately after Thorin arrived, and after he had insulted Bilbo's nonexistent skills at burglary, the company sat and their conversations turned serious. Bilbo hovered just in the archway behind Thorin. He wasn't even sure he should be there to hear about the lives of the dwarves as he wasn't one of them, but walking away would feel even more wrong. Even if he didn't belong with these people, he was still a gracious hobbit who would not leave his company to themselves unless they asked it of him if only to make sure they were in need of nothing. And, if he wasn't a gracious hobbit, he was still partly a curious Took whom he knew would be waiting just in the other room and listening in on the whole conversation anyway.

The meeting was about reclaiming mountains and slaying dragons and Thorin soon had most of the other dwarves cheering in their readiness to take on the beast. Bilbo wanted to cheer too and he felt his heart plummet along with the rest when Balin spoke up. "You forget. The gate is sealed."

All hope seemed lost. And then Gandalf produced a map and a key. Bilbo didn't recognize either item, and neither did Thorin. Yet with a flourish and a tone of importance Gandalf explained about the hidden passage that had been kept secret from the dwarves for many years.

After that, the conversation turned elsewhere until onto burglary it landed. Bilbo became the center of attention when he said something about it that was the dreadfully misheard by Oin, who was practically deaf, and then there were more insults to his nonexistent buglarying skills. Bilbo found himself continually agreeing with the insults, though he was upset that none of the dwarves trusted him. Never had Bilbo ever been a burglar. Sure he might've stolen a few pastries while his mother wasn't looking when he was young, but that was the pranks of all children. He had no intention of bringing such childish mischief to his respectable adult life.

Gandalf was the only one to stand up for him, though it was quite against Bilbo's will, and he soon convinced Thorin to at least give Bilbo the chance. Thorin commanded that Balin give Bilbo a contract, which he assumed that all the other dwarves had already signed before they had left their own homes in the Blue mountains; Bilbo wasn't sure how he knew that they lived in the Blue Mountains, but he didn't question it just like so many of the other things that he knew he shouldn't know but did.

Bilbo read that contract in a mumble, adding in his own comments and exclamations as he read the document, until he came to the part where the contract stated that the dwarves "shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof…" This he read rather quickly as many did when they were skimming over contracts, but he slowed as he read on. "Including, but not limited to, lacerations, evisceration, incineration…" Bilbo found himself reading with more skepticism.

"Oh aye," Bofur cut in. "He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye."

Suddenly the room grew hot and Bilbo felt as though he could feel the very fires of Smaug at his back. He wanted, no needed, to run away from the burning flames, but his feet wouldn't move to accommodate him. He was firmly planted to his spot even as he swayed on his feet.

"You all right laddie?" asked Balin.

"Yea. I feel-" Bilbo tried to get out, but then he felt like he was sucking in the smoke of the fires and he could no longer catch his breath. He crouched lower in an attempt to duck underneath the smoke and breathed in a way his father had taught him when he was young to calm him after his memories sent him nightmares. "I feel a bit faint," he tried again.

"Think furnace with wings," Bofur stood and it looked like he was trying to help, but he was failing utterly at it.

Bilbo knew exactly what the dragon was like. He had seen the creature first hand and had only barely escaped in time. That was why he had written his song. "Air. I-I-I-I need air."

"Flash of light. Searing pain. Then Poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash."

But it was so much more than that. Bilbo had been burnt by the flames of the fire in his previous life. He knew exactly what it felt like to be scalded by the giant beast and, worst, he knew exactly what it felt like to survive and then to go through the excruciating time after.

Bilbo tried to pull himself together, he stood as tall as he could force himself, but it wasn't enough. "Nope," was the last word that escaped his mouth before he fell into unconsciousness.