Worlds Apart: Awaited Return

Summary: Dwarves and Hobbits lived in different parts of Middle-Earth for a reason. They lived different lives, upheld different cultures and on most occasions should they meet, not at all get along. But when a Dwarven king and his nephews stumble into the Shire, how will a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins take to their arrival?

Chapter Summary: Bilbo returns to Bag End, his mind reeling in the memories and flesh wounds that reminded him of the unexpected journey he found himself to have undergone. Reminiscing and left to his own thoughts, the hobbit tries to return to his dull life back in the Shire.

S/N: I watched the movie with Philip, and he spoiled me on what happens in the book since for the life of me I couldn't pick up and read the book yet. So I guess that accounts for any apologies if this isn't up to your expectations, readers.

This happens after the events of the book. Thorin, Kili and Fili are all alive (since it would be such a waste for them to die, right?), and it seemed an interesting idea as to what would happen when they would meet after the adventure was over. More notes at the end of the chapter.

The first step Bilbo Baggins had set onto the land of Bag End sent a wave of familiar feeling through his little hobbit of a body. Bilbo took a deep intake of air, taking in the familiar and comforting breeze that often passed through Hobbiton; subtle and moist that cooled his face. He was nearly home; near his hobbit hole full of cozy warm beds, warm inviting fireplaces and every inch clean and orderly as he knew he had left it. He sped up as he broke into a run, much like he did when he left here months ago to join on an adventure with a dwarven king and his company reclaim their stolen kingdom of Erebor. It was admittedly harder to keep his speed uphill than it was the other way around, and Bilbo was only halfway when he finally agreed to slow down into a brisk walk, deciding instead to enjoy the trek than hasten it. He was, quite admittedly, much too eager to step through that familiar green door that led into the hole called home. That green door that was freshly painted and later defiled by a mark that drew 12 dwarves into his abode, initially without the poor hobbit's knowledge or approval.

Minutes later, he found himself at his gate. He took a moment to look at his house; no stone upturned no broken windows. Nothing much had changed while he was gone, save for the shrubbery and the grass that naturally grew without him to tend to. Bilbo had made a note to break out the garden shears and trim what needed to be trimmed. But that task could do for another time. Pushing the gate open, he strode purposefully up to his house, anxiety sweeping through him only momentarily before he pushed the door open. He peeked his head inside, only realizing then and there that he was not acting like himself. He chuckled to himself as he pushed the door opened wider and stepped onto the cool wooden floor.

"Home..." he repeated to himself, looking around and set his knapsack down by the coat rack. Surprisingly, everything of him seemed lighter. On instinct, or at least where his Baggins side was concerned, he moved to his favorite armchair; more importantly his hobbit-sized armchair. His body relaxed, soothed by the furniture that fit him snugly, a stark contrast to the rocks of nature or the over-sized chairs or beds that of the elves, wizards, or dwarves that rightly never seemed to give him the comfort chairs should often provide. This, his armchair, was his sanctuary. His feet able to touch the floor and his hands able to reach the edge of the arm rests. Bilbo leaned back against the backrest, closing his eyes in relief.

'What an adventure you got yourself into, Bilbo Baggins,' he told himself. But truly, for the life of him, neither his Baggins nor Tookish side could persuade him as strongly as it did to embark on the journey he had just returned from.

He wondered idly what it was exactly that urged him running out the safety of his house. Was it the Tookish side he had encapsulated within; the side that yearned for adventure but merely never had the opportune chance to? Or perhaps it was the thrill of exploring the world beyond the books he so loved to stick his nose into to pass the time? This, Bilbo was not quite sure of. Despite the lack of pinpointing the actual cause for his feet to run off, the young hobbit did not dare regret his decision. At least, not anymore when he had survived it all, and lived, if just barely, to return and tell the tale.

With eyes closed, the hobbit fondly recalled his favorite parts of the journey, for there were a few he could recount. The first, Bilbo had to agree, had to be the time when the dwarves had come to their little burglar's rescue when the trolls had stolen their ponies. Granted, it was geared more towards aiding the dwarven brothers Fili and Kili, for that particular company of dwarves paid no sense or attention to the little hobbit just then. And yes, he was covered in troll snot for his efforts. But then he prided himself in saving the dwarves, buying time for Gandalf to come and strike at just the right moment.

The second, of course, was their arrival in Rivendell. He had always admired the beauty and elegance the Elves, and to even so much as step foot in one of the elven kingdoms was an honor and a privilege for the hobbit. His Baggins side, in particular, felt content with the fact that there were certain customs that Hobbits shared with the Elves, and it showed in the ethereal bathrooms they kept that Bilbo now wished he had a smaller set-up back in his hole. Oh how he recalled being made fun of his insistent bathing.

The third - though Bilbo had now debated to rearrange his ranking - was the friendships he had established among the dwarven company. The kind old dwarf Balin, who, in Bilbo's opinion, was his first real friend among them; accepting him into their company without a hitch, to which the hobbit was grateful. With Ori, Bilbo found himself approaching one nightfall when the hobbit found the young dwarf scribbling furiously into a journal. His ever-curious side, his Tookish side, walked up to him and began conversation with Ori, to which he discovered the dwarf kept a log of his thoughts throughout their journey. Oh how Bilbo envied him. And then there was the goofy Bofur, the unexpected brother to the flabby Bombur who never failed to make Bilbo feel welcome, pulling the hobbit into the midst of the campfire circle. The youngest brothers of the group, the brothers Fili and Kili, who ever so fondly teased and called him "Mr. Boggins", took every opportunity available to ask him about why hobbits don't go on adventures.

Finally, there was Thorin Oakenshield himself, the King Under the Mountain. For Bilbo, he was, quite metaphorically, the hardest shell to crack. He wondered idly if he was ever - and he stressed the word - going to be accepted by this very stubborn dwarf. Bilbo quickly realized how that was a big understatement. Thorin ruled his own mountain of stubbornness in most every way imaginable. Dwarves and their pride. The hobbit had mindlessly flung himself forward to save the stubborn dwarf, earning him a praise and an embrace from Thorin that made Bilbo consider that perhaps he was, by all accounts, on good terms with him. Thank the stars.

For Bilbo, reaching the end of their journey after the consecutive days of travel, danger and peril he mindlessly signed up for - his Baggins side enjoyed to torment him with this reality daily - left him bewildered that he had developed a fondness for this rowdy company. He had set out what he had promised to do for them - the help in any way he could to help them reclaim their lost home. And now that they had claimed it, what else was left to do?

Bilbo remembered that moment well. The company felt a sense of peace, all tension carried away by the wind as some dwarves muttered something in their native tongue Khuzudul, almost in unison, at the impending fortress that was Erebor that stood before them, its foundations faded and crumbling by age and war. A restoration was in order, but it was something, Bofur reminded Bilbo, that he need not involve himself with.

"But I can help!" Bilbo had argued. His Tookish side seemed adamant to stay and help. This could not have been home yet. It was far from it.

"You've already done everything you have been tasked to do on this journey, Master Bilbo," Balin reasoned out. The old dwarf was speaking true. But Bilbo would hear none of it.

"Thank about it Bilbo! You can go back to your cozy hole," Bofur added jestingly, offering the hobbit a dirty, toothy grin.

Bilbo was surprisingly upset at being shooed away. He stood his ground. His Tookish side was not going to yield to this. His Baggins side, however, was beginning to complain of why Bilbo even thought of staying in such a barren place. "I've already come this far. I'd very much like to help since clearly you still have much to do!"

"We can handle our own Mr. Boggins," Fili reasoned cheerfully approaching the hobbit. "The House of Durin will revive itself by its own resources, that we can assure you. All that is left is to call back our kin across the land to re-settle."

The hobbit stood there in shock. What had come of the friendships he had formed? Why were they closing him out, as if he was a stranger to them all? Surely he had made an impression on the dwarves; saved their skins many times over in fact! The rejected stung, and Bilbo had lost the energy and will to be any firmer in his demand.

"Go home, Bilbo Baggins." It was Thorin who spoke. The tone he used sang a mix of determination and anxiety. That was how much Bilbo had learned of them; he could tell from the mere tone each dwarf spoke of their intentions.

"We'll be alright," Kili added. A wistful tone. Bilbo could tell the youngest dwarf was trying to stay strong, and had really wanted Bilbo to stay, even for just a bit longer. But the hobbit was not about to point this out. He knew, in his heart, that they would not mind him to indeed stay, but if they did not say it out loud, then who was he to invoke any rights he did not even have?

Bilbo sighed, though he tried - and very hard at that - to make it unnoticeable. He nodded; stiff and curt, as if dismissing his mind to be swayed once more. His Baggins side had tackled his Tookish side to lash out and was surprisingly winning for once. "Alright," he said. His voice was anything but agreeable. He hoped that no one would notice, but he was sure their resident wizard had and was hiding it by his manner of politely turning away. "I suppose I should be getting back. It's a long way, after all..."

"It has been an honor, Master Baggins," Balin said in a caring fashion. The round of dwarves nodded or raised their fists or weapons in mutual agreement. Bilbo could not comprehend the feeling welling up inside of him. Surely he had not felt this way when he first ventured with them; nor when he had decided to join them. No, he was furious at this group of dwarves who threatened his china and silver. But what had it become? Sorrow at leaving them? If anything the closest feeling Bilbo would associate this feeling to was love.

Wait, love? That was not it, surely. And Bilbo had denied it even as he headed off with Gandalf back to Hobbiton. But the wizard saw through this denial almost too easily. And he made sure that Bilbo knew that too.

The pair flew on an eagle that took them as close to Rivendell as possible, where Bilbo and Gandalf would part. It was the quickest way, and Bilbo dared not complain, or at least turned the other cheek from his Baggins side that was desperate to make him see reason.

"Will you miss them, Bilbo?" Gandalf asked, the hobbit situated in front of him.

Bilbo softly clung onto the feathers of the eagle as he stared straight ahead. He refused to look back at Erebor or at Gandalf or his eyes might water in a swell of emotions he refused to handle at that moment. "Of course I will," he answered.

"And what of Thorin?" Gandalf prodded further.

Bilbo stilled. Damn this wizard for being observant. Why couldn't he have just turned the other cheek? "What of him?" the hobbit asked nonchalantly. An excuse, that was all it was.

"I see the look you give him Bilbo," Gandalf shared in a near-teasing manner. This wizard liked to get under his skin, didn't he? Bilbo had to remind himself to deny him any favors should he pay the hobbit another visit in the future. "You care for him deeply, do you not?"

"Suppose I did, that doesn't make much of a difference does it?" Bilbo snapped. Had he sounded annoyed enough? He hoped so, but his Tookish side was rolling his eyes at him. That was not a good sign.

"Oh it makes a lot of difference," the wizard corrected him good-naturedly. "I am surprised you agreed to leave him."

"You heard him, he wanted me to leave," Bilbo reasoned out in a near choked voice. His Baggins side rubbed his back soothingly. His Tookish side, however, was giving him the cold shoulder for even agreeing to do so.

"And since when did you put any stock into doing as you were told, Bilbo Baggins?" Gandalf argued with a raised brow.

It was true, and even Bilbo had to agree. His Tookish side's ignorance was something akin to agreeing, almost mockingly telling him "See, even the wizard knew him better". Bilbo swatted him away. Now was not the time for this. He was not ready to discuss this. No sir, he was not. And he would be damned if he let Gandalf of all people manage to wheedle anything out of him. He was a rock, he would not crumble."Since I came on this journey," he remarked crossly.

Gandalf had said nothing for the rest of their flight, and Bilbo was grateful for the silence. It had given him time to think, and perhaps that was what had occupied his thoughts so massively until he recognized the landscapes and realized that he was home. Thinking could wait, he had decided, shoving all thoughts of those adventures and Thorin and Kili and Fili away from his mind. But try as Bilbo might, these same thoughts had come back to surface, and he found himself drowning in them once more. Relaxing in his favorite armchair in the hole he called his home.

Tomorrow was another day, he reasoned. Tomorrow, Bilbo agreed, he would return to his usual routine; return to a life of a respectable hobbit named Bilbo Baggins, away from all the adventure and thrill of the months that had passed.

TBC

S/N Afterword: Next chapter, we pan over to Erebor and take a glimpse at the dwarves hard at work restoring Erebor, and Thorin and his own spiel of thoughts.

Oh, and if you haven't gotten to following Philip's work, The Way Home, I suggest you all read that as well. He makes a great delivery and his story telling is much more akin to the fandom than mine will ever be.

You can access our profile page for the link, or just affix this to the end of the site home name (you should know the drill by now!): /s/8930473/1/The-Way-Home

Show your support for him if you could, as I would really appreciate it!