I couldn't help myself! After three years straight watching the Hobbit movies... and especially the last one, this just needed to be written. I have Bagginshield feels! So many of them. And I knew it was going to happen, I read the books after all, but still, it hit me so hard... I will also say I felt the romance in the movies much stronger than I did in the books (that was probably part of what made you-know-what hit me so much harder...) In any case, here we are!

Disclaimer: I don't own "The Hobbit", "Lord of the Rings" or anything else connected to that fandom. I do own Eleana, she's my OC, hope you'll like her.

Warnings: Aside from the slash pairing, which ought to be obvious from the start (and if you don't like slash what are you doing here?), we have some serious spoilers for "The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies", so if you haven't watched that yet there is no reason you should be reading this!

I truly hope you'll enjoy. On with the fic!

Gift of the Stars

By: Lalaith Quetzalli

She was a special girl, gifted by the Valar, with the power to change Fate, if only once; and she chose to do it for Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins, one misty morning in Ravenhill. It was a choice that would have ripples, many of them, and would eventually reshape the Fates of every living being in Arda...

The clang of metal clashing against metal, followed constantly by thuds of bodies hitting others bodies, stone or ice and the cries and groans of pain echoed loud throughout the clouds and the tunnels of Ravenhill like a foreboding song.

In stark contrast, a figure climbed the ice-covered stone-steps in absolute silence, her bare feet making not a sound. Sunkissed skin, hair like moonlight cascading down and eyes that looked like pure starlight. The figure was obviously female, tall and lithe; wore a sleeveless dress that seemed to be made of mithril and what looked almost like steel (if the metal could ever be made as fine as a thread), it was close to her form, allowing for easy movement, and while the back touched the ground and even dragged a few inches, the front barely reached her hips, though she was still covered, with a floor-length snow-white pleated skirt, loose enough to allow her to walk without restrictions. She carried no jewelry, nor any other kind of adornment, and aside from having two bangs of hair pulled and tied back (to keep the rest from covering her face), the rest was down. If one were to see her features, she looked ageless, a mix of youthful innocence and hard-won age and experience; in that, she was like many other immortals.

The Lady kept walking, even as the noises of the vicious battle got closer and louder with every second and every step; even though she carried no weapons of any kind. It was as if she cared not about any possible danger, or as if she believed the battle couldn't possibly touch her. Her silent motions at least helped, as she called no attention onto herself, and the colors on her person allow her to go mostly unnoticed, surrounded as she was by stone and snow.

She passed by the high-rising tower near the frozen edge of Ravenhill at one point, her eyes straying briefly to the dead-body of the blonde-dwarf laying broken there, in a pool of his own blood. He had been gutted. Her eyes sparkled briefly, as if filled with un-shed tears, but she didn't allow a single one to fall; there was no time to mourn those already dead, not when other lives still hung on the line...

The next time her attention was called, was by a keen cry, an elven cry, sounds of a scuffle and... she slipped. It wasn't planned, not at all, but having the senses she did, the lady could sense death reaching through the veil, ready to grasp a life and that distracted her enough to make her lose her balance. It was only for a moment. One of her feet slipped, and when she worked on regaining her balance, the other ended up kicking a bunch of small stones to the side. Then, pushing down the sense of death and the knot it was causing on the mouth of her stomach, she moved on.

What she knew not, focused as she was on her mission, was that death pulled back right then, never actually taking the life it'd been reaching for. She couldn't have known it, but the rocks she kicked by accident, fell on top of the orc holding the youngest dwarf-prince, distracting it just for a moment, just long enough for the prince to move slightly to one side, and push his attacker's arm just a bit with his one free arm; just enough for the orc weapon, once it came down, to slash deep into his flank, rather than stabbing him through. The distraction in the end also gave time for the silvan elf laying on the cold stone to push herself one more time and use her last blade (a small knife hidden in her boot) to kill the orc once and for all.

So the orc died, and both the silvan elf and the dwarf-prince survived. They were injured, badly, he more than her; a slash to his side deep enough it might still kill him if not treated soon or properly. But the she-elf was enough of a healer to keep him on the side of the living, securing his wound enough for him to be transported to those who would be able to better take care of him, once the battle was over.

The Lady knew not any of that (and she never would, not consciously at least), for her focus laid elsewhere. She reached her target after what seemed like forever, the edge of the frozen falls, past the remains of the Pale Orc, to the spot where Thorin Oakenshield, rightful King of Erebor, lay in that moment, dying; his faithful companion, the halfling 'burglar' Bilbo Baggins, kneeling by his side, holding the dwarf's hands tightly.

Anyone who were to see them would see a pair of brothers-in-arms, friends, companions... but the Lady's eyes saw more than what could be perceived simply with physical eyes, she could see the bonds that tied the two together... bonds they themselves did not seem to be aware of yet, though they shone as bright as stars to her own eyes. Bonds that had begun to unravel already, under the weight of death, and so they would, unless something was done to change things... and that was exactly why she was there.

"Farewell, Master Burglar." Thorin was speaking right then, probably what he meant to be his last words. "Go back to your books, your fireplace. Plant your trees, watch them grow. If more of us valued home above gold, it would be a merrier world."

Neither of the two noticed their audience until the Lady was kneeling by them, on the dying king's other side. The halfling's reaction was instantaneous, as he pulled on his small elven blade with one hand (the other one still holding onto the dwarf), pointing it at the Lady.

"Who are you?!" He demanded, trembling.

He was injured, not bad enough that his life was in danger, but enough that he wasn't a serious threat to anyone (and he knew that), still the Lady admired his courage and his willingness to defend the one he held dear no matter what.

"My name is Eleana..." The lady spoke, her voice melodic and soft, it almost seemed to echo around her, like magic... "And I am here to make you an offer, Master Baggins..."

"How do you know my name?!" The halfling practically squeaked.

"I know a great many things." She said enigmatically. "But right now, time is scarce, a decision must be made, by you."

"What kind of decision?" Bilbo asked, suddenly serious, as if able to guess that it wouldn't be an easy one, not at all.

"What are you willing to do for love?" She asked, and then, as if deciding that the question wasn't specific enough, she rephrased. "What are you willing to do for Thorin Oakenshield?"

"No..." Thorin half-yelled half-moaned his denial.

The dwarf was older than the halfling, enough to know that when enigmatic creatures (usually sorcerers or other powerful immortals) asked such questions, there was always a catch. Still, that did not stop the halfling's response, just like he must have known it wouldn't.

"Anything." Bilbo asked, no hesitation at all.

"Are you sure, Master Baggins?" She asked for confirmation once, willing him to understand how serious the situation was. "The price to pay..."

"If it saves Thorin's life no price will ever be too high." The halfling stated solemnly.

She could see into his heart, and even a bit into his mind; and what she couldn't see directly, she knew beforehand, it was part of her gift (and her curse). She knew of Bilbo Baggins, the halfling (hobbit) who'd left his cozy home and simple, peaceful life in the Shire to follow one wizard and thirteen dwarves in their quest to recover the ancient dwarven home of Erebor (which was likely to include the necessity of defeating a dragon...). He'd been terrified, yet he'd still gone. And no matter the dangers he was forced to face, all the times he came so close to losing his life, Bilbo never gave up, he never turned back, and he never gave anything but his best to help the Company, his friends...

In the end it was really no surprise that he should fall in love with the leader of their company, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror; and the dwarf-prince with him in return. The two were a perfect match after all, had always been. They were also strong souls, meant for great things, things that would change and shape the world; and as was usual with such individuals, love was hard to achieve, and even harder (sometimes impossible) to keep. Which was where she came in, why she was giving them a choice.

Eleana had seen how things could go, how they'd have gone. The dwarf-king would have died, the growing bonds turning to ash, his other half left bereft. The halfling would have returned to his home, feeling incomplete, his soul forever crying for his other half, even if the conscious part of him would never understand it. Only at the End of all Things... the End of Time and Space... would the two halves have been able to meet again, after a lifetime of grief and hardship, after ages of waiting... and then she'd stepped in.

Bilbo couldn't go, he had to live, he had a fate of his own to fulfill... Thorin had already fulfilled his own, thanks in no small part to the halfling he loved (even if he hadn't acknowledged it yet, neither of them had); though that did not mean he couldn't stay. It wouldn't be easy, but then again, it was the whole point of her existence.

After directing one last smile at the halfling and dwarf, both who were still looking straight at the Lady, waiting for what the price would be... and then it came:

"Would you bind your life to his?" She asked, soft but completely serious. "Would you allow his life to depend on yours, and yours on him?"

"I..." The halfling took a deep breath, almost as if bracing himself, before answering. "Yes, I would. Though I would not presume to know what he..."

"I would do it as well." Thorin cut him off, directing one soft, lingering look at his halfling (and he was finally acknowledging that Bilbo was His), before turning to look at the unknown lady. "I would do anything to stay by Bilbo's side..." He took a deep, ragged breath. "I would do my best to take on whatever burden you would place on his shoulders."

"I know you would." And she sounded honest in that. "But Master Baggin's Fate is his and can be taken by no one else... doesn't mean he has to do it alone."

"Anything." The dwarf reiterated.

"Once bound, you each will live as long as the other." Eleana stated serenely. "And just as well, if one shall perish, both shall go."

"No price is too high." Bilbo insisted.

Thorin just nodded. Eleana knew he had his doubts, not regarding his halfling's love, never that, it was more fear that something might happen, that he might end up causing his beloved's death (being King was not without its perils...).

"Then repeat after me." The Lady instructed them. "Heart to thee..."

"Heart to thee..." The two halves repeated dutifully.

"Body to thee..." She went on.

"Body to thee..." Bilbo blushed and Thorin chuckled slightly but even that did not stop them.

"Soul to thee..." Eleana added, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Soul to thee..." The pair stated.

"Always and forever, so mote it be." She finished.

"Always and forever, so mote it be." Halfling and Dwarf chorused.

And so the bond was sealed.

Both Bilbo and Thorin could feel it, the moment the bonds between them sharpened, almost becoming solid, at the same time Eleana turned her face to the sky, eyes closed. Words began coming from her mouth, in a language neither halfling nor dwarf could identify, though they still understood every word:

"Ah Elbereth Gilthoniel! Listen to me Great Mother of the Stars. In this place, and at this hour I call upon you, to allow Vairë's tapestries to be rewoven, Mando's pull to be canceled. A call for this life to be blessed, for this change to be made. This is my choice, my fate, the gift given to me, to pass on to whom I will! This is my choice. As I will it, so mote it be!"

In all the years that would follow, neither halfling nor dwarf would ever be completely sure what happened exactly in that moment. A mix of the brightest light, a warm breeze (regardless of the ice around them), a melodic note and something else that couldn't be named...

When it was all over Thorin slowly sat up, one hand going to his chest, where a grievous wound had been just instants before, no sign of it was left. Bilbo's own hand joined his, as the hobbit made sure it was all real. Their remaining hands still clasped tightly together.

They didn't even think about it, as instinct took over and the two leaned over in sync to kiss, brief but very heartfelt.

"What have you done...?" The question made them pull apart.

There was Gandalf, looking at the scene in shock, a badly injured Kili being held up by two others from his company (all of which were looking at Thorin and Bilbo with a mix of shock and delight), while the auburn-haired silvan she-elf, Tauriel, stood nervously beside them, same as her blonde prince Legolas Greenleaf.

However, Gandalf's question wasn't meant for them, as they soon realized, the wizard's gray eyes fixed straight on the one who'd made the miracle of Thorin's survival possible (and unknowingly Kili's as well).

"I've made my choice..." Eleana told the Ístari quietly.

Her voice sounded odd then, almost as if it were fading away, as if she were fading away... all of those present did a double take then, as they realized that she truly was, fading away slowly.

"The Tapestry of Fate shall be rewoven by the Hand of Destiny..." She murmured to her old friend, before turning to the match one last time. "Arda's future is in your hands now..." Her face turned back to the sky, eyes opened this time. "I go back to my home..."

And just like that, her body finished dissolving into tiny sparks, like stardust, which then rose to the sky. Leaving the match sitting there, on the ice, holding onto each other, a whole new future before them.

It was until minutes later that they finally got up and ready to go back down; and even then only so soon thanks to Tauriel's insistence that Kili was in urgent need of medical attention (that certainly spurred everyone on, especially Thorin, he had already lost one nephew that day... his sister would never forgive him). It was until that moment, as Bilbo and Thorin were helping each other up, that they noticed the piece of parchment, carefully folded, laying beside them. Their names on careful calligraphy written on the outside, making it obvious it was meant for them. They allowed a thought to go to the Lady Eleana, easily deducing the letter came from her; yet there was no time to focus on that, so Thorin slipped it into his mostly-ruined coat and went to join his kinsmen, never once letting go of the halfling's hand; something Bilbo didn't seem inclined to do either...

It was until that night, after the wounded had been taken to the healers, the dead to be prepared for burial and the corpses of the enemies set on fire (most of them were they lay) and after making arrangements to hold an official meeting with Bard Dragonslayer, King Thranduil and Dain Ironfoot two days later (to allow for time for each of them to settle their own businesses and look after their own people); when halfling 'burglar' and dwarf-king finally got a chance to lay down to rest in a tent as Thorin wasn't quite ready to return inside the mountain just yet, not with the memory of the dragon-sickness, and the things he'd said and done while under it, especially to his hobbit, so close still.

Thorin had tried time and again to apologize for his actions, but after absolving him of any fault back on Ravenhill (when they'd still believed the dwarf to be about to die), Bilbo simply refused to keep hearing the same thing again and again, wanting only to move past it already. It wasn't that he hadn't been hurt, because he was; but having been so close to losing Thorin had put things into perspective like nothing else could have. He would rather enjoy what they had together, than continue thinking over the ways they'd wronged each other. Because if the hobbit had to think about the things Thorin had said to him on that wall, he also had to think about how he himself had betrayed his dwarf, his King... his beloved, by taking the Arkenstone and then handing it over to his enemies. His intentions might have been good, but then there was that human saying about good intentions and the paths where those lead...

It was as they undressed (in order to clean themselves up a bit with the water-basins that had been left in the tent by one of the Company), that the pair remembered the letter. So after they were clean and in proper clothes, they sat down on their bedrolls (which had been arranged close to each other) and finally unfolded the letter. Like they expected, it came from the Lady Eleana, their savior... what they could have never expected, was what she had to say to them...

xXx

It took everyone by surprise when, the day after Imbolc, the following year, just with the first stirrings of Spring, the halfling packed his bags and made preparations to depart. Honestly, no one but his mate seemed to understand. Most of the dwarves were quite affronted, in all truth.

So much had been achieved during the winter. It'd begun with the Meeting of Leaders, two days after the Battle of Five Armies. Talks had been had, complaints issued, problems smoothed out. By the end of the day a Peace Treaty had been written and signed with Thranduil as King of the Elves of Mirkwood, Bard Blackarrow (he preferred that name to Dragonslayer) for the people of Laketown and the rebuilding Dale, and Thorin Oakenshield as King Under the Mountain of the Dwarf-Kingdom of Erebor; Gandalf the Grey and the halfling Bilbo Baggins acting as witnesses and mediators. The Arkenstone was returned to Thorin, but rather than make it once again into the symbol of Erebor and its King, he declared that it would top the memorial to be built for all who'd fought and fallen in the recent battle, a symbol of the alliance between all three races from that day on.

It was done, an obelisk made out of stone, wood and glass, with the name of every person fallen, carved onto a side. Each race in their own language and writing, though the names were mixed up, just as their people would be in the future.

Much had changed in the following weeks. It'd begun with official coronation of the King of Erebor: Thorin Oakenshield, as well as the official naming of his royal consort: Bilbo Baggins, King Consort. It'd been obvious to everyone that Dain Ironfoot had reservations, upon hearing the second part, but the company had backed up the pair, and when it was revealed by Gandalf the Grey that they'd been married by a Maia, there was little that could be done. In the following months Dain and those of his people who chose to remain in the Lonely Mountain (at least for a season) grew to know the halfling, to appreciate him, almost as much as the Company, the heroes who'd taken back the ancient home of Erebor, did.

Funerals had been held, of course, none hurting anyone as much as that of Fili, especially to his younger brother Kili, who was sure he wouldn't have been able to go on without the support of his family: his uncle Thorin, his new uncle Bilbo, his recently-arrived mother: Lady Dis of the Blue Mountains and Erebor... and of course, his own dear lady: Tauriel. That one too had shocked more than a few, but no one dared say a word, not after Thorin and Dis had given their approval (and how could they not, after learning that they owed Kili's life to the she-elf? Twice over even!).

Dale had begun rebuilding too, with help from both the dwarves and the elves; and there were plans on, eventually, rebuilding Laketown too.

Mirkwood itself had benefited with the alliance as well, able to better push back the darkness in the forms of giant spiders and orcs when the elves worked together with dwarves; the joint group lead by Kili and Tauriel. Prince Legolas had left shortly after the battle, choosing instead to spend his time with the Dúnedain of the North, having struck a friendship with their leader: Strider, whom the elves in Rivendell called Estel, and had yet another name he was not very keen on revealing to any not his own kin.

So much had been achieved in one season, and it was only a sign of what was yet to come, they all knew that; which was why the abrupt departure of their King Consort took them all by surprise. Had something happened? Was he unhappy with his life? (They didn't think so, every dwarf had heard him laugh often enough, Thorin too).

The situation worried them so much they went as far as sending a raven to Gandalf, asking him to visit, to help them find out what was going on. And Gandalf did, as surprised as anyone else to learn Bilbo was preparing to leave Erebor. As shocked as he himself had been that morning, when the pair had bound themselves to each other in a ritual as ancient as time itself and seldom used anymore (at least on this side of the sea); he couldn't understand what could possibly make the two decide to part. Their union couldn't be undone, not by anything, not even death, so what then could possibly be going on?

It was that how the pair found themselves boxed in by twelve dwarves (the Company and Dis), an elven lady and a wizard. The answer came in the form of a worn letter, which the halfling wordlessly offered his wizard friend, while Thorin looked on, expression blank.

What Gandalf found written there, surprised him all over again:

Dear Masters Baggins and Oakenshield:

I know you will have many questions, and you deserve answers, however, not all questions can or even should be answered at this time. The things I can tell you, I shall:

My name, as I'm sure I will have told you, is Eleana. In my lifetime I've been given many titles: Daughter of the Skies, Princess of the Stars, Child of the Night, Varda's Messenger, Nienna's Hope... In the end, I am no one special, have never been. I am simply someone who was chosen to fulfill a great task, a long time ago...

There is Darkness coming, it's been coming for a long time, some would say since the beginning of time, but only now has it become evident. There are those in the Far West, though, who've known it all along, Lady Vairë, the Valie, the Weaver of the Tapestries of Fate among them. It was she, she and Varda, Lady Elbereth. Queen of the Valinor, who gave me the great gift that would aid me in fulfilling my mission.

There are people in this World, Individuals who've been chosen for their strength of heart and soul, for their wills of iron, to be the Protectors of Arda. Not all are Warriors, and not all shall survive. Some have tasks small, others great, but all just as important. All their Fates are woven in Vairë's Tapestries the same way.

Thorin Oakenshield, by the time you read these words, your Fate will have been fulfilled; and if my Lady has accepted my prayers, you will still be alive, and by your match's side to find out about it all. You were always meant to recover your home, Erebor, not only for yourself and your kin, but for all the Children of Aüle, and also for the good of Arda. That Fate was always yours to seize, Mithrandir's meddling and everyone else's opinion notwithstanding. Though, at the same time, the choice was always yours. Only could choose to embark on this quest, to find the right people to accompany you on it... and only you could fight against the Dragon-Sickness, the Gold-Fever and push on, taking your quest to a satisfactory end. So I shall tell you this now, you are strong, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror... stronger than any of your ancestors ever was. The Sickness has left you and never shall it take you over again, nor any of the Line of Dúrin, you've freed your bloodline from that curse.

Bilbo Baggins. I know what it is that will be in your mind by the time you reach these lines. You consider yourself a simple hobbit, always have and probably always will. You are so focused on everyone around you, that you cannot see the greatness in yourself. To you I say this: Thorin Oakenshield, whom you hold in such high regard, wouldn't be the dwarf and King he is (and shall be) if it weren't for you... You were an instrumental part from the very start of this Quest, Master Baggins, never doubt your worth. I am also sure that, with the proper motivation, you will come to achieve much, much more...

I shall tell you what you must likely suspect already: In Vairë's Tapestries, long ago woven, Thorin Oakenshield's Final Fate was, to fall to the blade of the Pale Orc, crossing into the Halls of his Ancestors with the forgiveness and renewed friendship of the halfling Bilbo Baggins. That was the way it was written things would be, the way they would have been, had I not stepped in. Why then did I?

This brings us back to my task and my gift. A very long time ago I was given the task to look over those in Arda Marked by Fate. Those like the two of you, and like many more whose paths you've crossed, or will cross in the times to come. I was to watch over you, until the day I could choose, and it was no easy choice. I was given the gift to change One Tapestry, One Fate, and only One. For many years have I watched Marked Ones come and go, and never before had I been touched by someone's story the way I was by yours. And it's not what you have done thus far, though that is great by itself; but all the things I know, inside me, you could do if given the chance... and thus, I've decided to give it to you.

By the time you lay eyes on this words, I know I shall be long gone. For that is the price I must pay, the body I possess will only last until my choice is made. And I'm not afraid of making it, for I know I leave the well-being of Arda in good hands. Neither of you are tied by Fate any longer, your lives forever freed from it, though I honestly believe you won't leave those who need you to stand alone, it's not in you.

And like this, we go back to you, Master Baggins. You are such a remarkable being, and as much good as you've done thus far, the Quest for Erebor was never meant to be the end of the road for you, there is more yet to come, as you might be able to suspect already. And even though that Woven Fate is now gone, that means not you cannot help when the time comes, as I'm sure you will. The One meant to carry on the task of freeing Arda in the future is not yourself, and never was, but you shall be an important part in his coming to be the individual he's meant to be... if you allow it, that is.

In the end, Masters, it is up to you. Follow your hearts, for they will never lead you astray.

May your bonds forever be as strong as stones and shine as bright as the stars, and may Arda thrive under your guidance and that of yours.

Farewell, Eleana.

Silence was heavy for several moments after Balin finished reading out-loud the letter, after the wizard had finished reading it to himself; though it did not last long.

"That means..." Ori began, before stopping and revising. "What does that mean?"

"You're Marked Ones..." Tauriel murmured, awed.

"You know what that means?" Kili asked, turning to his mate.

"It means they were chosen by Vairë, the Weaver of the Tapestries, as was said in the letter." Tauriel declared. "It means they're chosen in some way. Naneth... my mother told me once, a long time ago, that I was Marked..." She closed her eyes briefly at the memory. "I did not understand what kind of Fate one such as I could possibly have," She opened her eyes again to stare straight at Kili. "and then I met you, and I knew..."

Indeed a union such as theirs, while their choice, the things it would bring could also be nothing but Fate. They loved each other, that would never be in doubt; and in allowing that love to exist, and to flourish, other things would come, good things.

It was like with Bilbo and Thorin, both of them had been meant to be part of the Quest of Erebor, but in the end it was still their choice. It was complicated, a mix of Fate, Destiny and Free Will, things only Higher Beings fully understood.

"The Tapestry of Fate shall be rewoven by the Hand of Destiny..." The Wizard quoted what Eleana had told him that day.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Dis demanded, as un-moving as a mountain.

"Destiny... it probably isn't the right word, but it's the closest you'll find in any mortal language." Gandalf explained to her, to all of them. "The elves call it Maranwë, and that's probably a bit closer to it. Fate, as you know, is what's been weaved in Vairë's Tapestries, what's meant to be; though some things are still subjected to change, as we're all beings with free will and capable of our own choices, the general designs still remain." He didn't say how some things would happen regardless of any choices made. "Destiny, is what is left when Fates has ended... or when it's been erased. Thorin's Final Fate, death, was erased by Eleana, and his binding to Bilbo in turn erased his own. Both of them are now free to write their own destiny, make their own luck, as men might say. Theirs are the hands of Destiny." He let out a breath. "Eleana also knew that their choices would not be limited to themselves, they will shape others' futures, their Fates. In the end, it is likely that everything that was once woven in regards to the times to come shall be woven again... as was her intent all along, I am sure."

Indeed, it was unlikely that Eleana would have ever been able to choose to change someone else's Fate and have that change so many others at the same time.

"Alright, lets assume we understand any of that." Glóin said, in a tone that left it clear he didn't, at all. "What does any of it have to do with you leaving us, laddie?"

"It was made abundantly clear that if things had run their course on that hill Thorin..." The hobbit didn't even dare say it, and it wasn't really necessary. "I would have returned to the Shire. When releasing Thorin of his Fate, I was released myself, but that doesn't mean there wasn't more I was expected to do. I may not know what it is, but there is something waiting for me at the Shire. Something important..."

"Someone upon whose shoulders lay the future of Arda..." Gandalf murmured, shocked.

As taken as he'd always been by the hobbits, the idea that all of Arda might one day depend on one... it was a foreboding thought. However, it also explained Bilbo living through everything he had. He was a Warrior and a Hero in his own right, and one day he'd also be a Guide...

"That's why I must return to the Shire." Bilbo stated seriously, knowing Gandalf was beginning to understand. "Whatever or whoever is waiting for me there, I must do it. All Arda might depend on it..." And what a daunting prospect that was! "It doesn't mean I'm forgetting about any of you. I shall visit every year when I'm able, and you're of course always welcome to visit me." His voice half-broke but he went on. "I'm sure you all remember how to find my home... the rune is still there, and shall always be, to show you the way. Tea is at four, don't bother to knock, just go right in. You will always be welcome in any home of mine."

"Likewise, Master Baggins..." Nori stated, before suddenly pressing his arm, fist closed, across his chest in a gesture of loyalty. "My Lord..."

The rest of the company followed suit.

Thorin smiled smugly at the honor and respect his people were showing his chosen consort. Bilbo for his part could only stand there, shocked still (at least he no longer gaped or sputtered at any little thing, he'd learnt in the months since being named Royal Consort).

So a huge feast was prepared for that evening, a celebration for everything that had happened, and everything yet to come. And at dawn the next morning, Bilbo departed. An honor guard, formed by a mix of elves, men, dwarves and one wizard lead him and Thorin through Dale, by the edge of the Lake and across Mirkwood; where the dwarf-King had to double back to Erebor and allow his consort to continue with just Gandalf (there was too much to be done for him to just leave in that moment, even with how wonderful Dis was as Lady Regent).

Beorn took over the task of accompanying the two from the Carrock all the way to Rivendell (ever since the Battle of Five Armies he had been in better relations with the other races), where wizard and hobbit rested for several days before continuing to Bree. There the two parted, Bilbo doing the last part of the journey on his own.

He arrived to Bag End to find that his horrible cousin, Lobellia Sackville-Baggins had declared him dead and they were auctioning all his things. It took a while, but eventually he managed to convince everyone that he was, in fact, very much alive (for some reason his standing there didn't seem to be enough). Then he proceeded to use a part of his treasure (the single chest his mate managed to convince him to take with him) to recover what had been sold already as well as hiring some folk to help him get everything back where it belonged, clean up the place, tend to the garden and refill the pantry (he'd to be ready for whenever his dwarven family chose to visit).

The rest of the treasure he would use, for gifts mostly, through the years. In the end, Bilbo was only truly interested in keeping one thing, which he never took off anyway. It was the carefully crafted mithril torc with elaborate carvings around his neck; which marked him both Thorin Oakenshield's mate and, consequently, as King Consort of Erebor. It was impossible to notice at first sight, half-hidden as it was under the neckline of his shirts. As a special wedding present Gandalf had also spelled it (as well as the one Thorin wore) so it would alert them through a radical change in temperature if their other half were ever to be in great peril.

All arrangements finished, Bilbo eventually settled back to life in Bag End, counting the days until his mate were to visit him. He knew a dwarf visiting him (even if no one were to ever know he as more than a friend) would only spur the whispers and gossips about the 'mad Baggins' already going around (hobbits weren't used to anything 'abnormal' happening around them, and Bilbo having gone missing for a year and then returning with a veritable treasure was so far beyond normal most couldn't fully wrap their heads around it); but he did not care.

xXx

Years passed, one by one, slowly at first, then faster and faster as both Bilbo and Thorin (and by extension the rest of their family and friends) got used to their new routines. Every year, after Samhain, Bilbo would pack a bag and leave to spend the winter season in Erebor (never longer, just in case). And his dwarf-family would take any excuse they could to visit him in the Shire during the rest of the year; even a few men and even one or two elves dropped by sporadically. Everyone in the East knew who Bilbo Baggins was.

Bilbo became well-known in the Shire as an odd, less-than-respectable (by their standards) hobbit, supposedly an 'eternal bachelor' who lived alone and had no one to 'set him on the right path'. The children loved him though, the metal trinkets and wooden toys he always seemed to have and was willing to gift to them, and specially his stories... After all, every hobbit loves a good story, even if the adults never believed the ones Bilbo told about giant spiders, trolls, men, dwarves, elves, mountains of gold, a dragon and the King Under the Mountain (if they only knew that Bilbo himself was as good as a King himself!). Still, Bilbo did not mind, he'd had no wish to be a 'normal hobbit' since he'd stood on that hill, in the Carrock, Thorin's arms tight around him... it'd been then that the hobbit was forced to admit that he felt more than just respect or even regard for the dwarf-king, a lot more, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Finally, one day, it happened, what he had (subconsciously) been waiting for since his return from the Lonely Mountain. One of his Took cousins went looking for him, a visit that wasn't exactly odd, though the news he brought certainly were; he was there to inform Bilbo that Drogo and Primula Baggins (nee Brandybuck) had passed away in a boating accident recently, leaving their only son: Frodo, all alone.

Bilbo adopted the lad before he was fully conscious of what he was doing. It was only when he'd gotten the twelve-year-old fully installed in Bag End, and after putting him to sleep that first night, that he fully realized what it was that he'd just done, as well as the implications of his actions, not just in the fact that he would no longer be able to visit Erebor every year (which he'd known would happen one day), but also the realization of who exactly it was that one day would hold the future of Arda in their hands... his nephew, little Frodo...

Bilbo made a promise to himself that day, a promise to stand by his young nephew, do everything he could to make sure that when Fate came knocking at their door for him (and Bilbo knew that day would come, as surely as it had for him), Frodo would be ready.

And thus, with that one promise, a choice made by Bilbo Baggins, his Hand of Destiny, changed the Tapestries of Fate, again...

High up in the endless sky, a star twinkled...

I hope you all have enjoyed this fic. I took great delight in writing (been working like crazy on it).

As much as Eleana belongs to me, I borrowed her from another fic, one that shall never be posted (as I've longed since moved on from that story and never finished it). And while I have another, much longer and more complex LoTR fic that still is in the works and unposted (the second being a consequence of the first). This one just needed to be written.

As you may have already noticed, while this is very much a One-Shot, there are plans for this to be but the start of the series. Nothing as complex as some of the other things I'm working on (I hope). Currently my plan is to write a series of vignettes spanning the sixty years between Bilbo's return to the Shire and all the way to the end of the LoTR movies. I won't be rewritting everything, just introducing a scene here and there. You're, of course, welcome to make suggestions. Right now my ideas include Gandalf (as a way to explain a bit more about Eleana and where she came from), Tauriel (for her story needs to be told as well; and possibly other short stories focused in specific characters, sort-of how things with Bilbo and Thorin look from their eyes, as well as how those two manage to change something in their own Fates. Currently the possibilities for that include (but aren't limited to): Legolas, Gimli, Arwen, Boromir, Sam, Frodo...

Of course you may be interested in one vignette but not another, while here on Ffnet they will all be part of the same story (it'll be easier for you, and me, to keep track of them that way), you can always skip those you're not interested in. .

I really, really hope you like this. Please don't forget to review!

P.S. In case you're interested, the first vignette will probably be up in a week or so... and we'll see where it goes from there.