Chapter Text
“WAIT! WAIT! I'VE SIGN-”
Bilbo stumbled to the ground as the familiar feeling of his essence being pulled into his body slammed with a force that left his senses numb and buzzing. Bilbo clenched his jaw, biting down on the scream that threatened to rip out of him. It never gets better no matter how many times this happens, no matter how many times he lives through this moment. You would think that the immense amount of pain would lessen once he got used to it but no, it was never-ending.
He could not help the continuous chant of ‘DONTSCREAMDONTSCREAMDONTSCREAM’ that filtered throughout his head. It never ended well when he let the pain overpower his will to keep silent, it made things quite worse honestly. He couldn’t have his dwarves and that meddlesome wizard concerned for his well-being this early in the journey.
‘Nasty thing that is’
Despite the way his body trembled, the pain was slowly becoming bearable and his senses were coming back one by one. Touch was the first of his senses to come back, he could finally feel the various levels of pain that left him racked with shivers, the way his brain throbbed too loudly against his skull, the way his heart beat way too fast; working in overdrive to pump blood throughout his body, the way his muscles pulled and stretched to accommodate his (new? Old?) younger body.
Taste was the next sense to come back. Blood stained his tongue, bitter and metallic, it was a taste that made his inner organs revolt in repulsion but oddly, not enough to withhold the cold comfort that it brought him. It was not a taste he was unfamiliar with but like the rest of him, he never got used to it. He spat out the contents in his mouth and immediately went into a rough coughing fit that had his lungs squeezing painfully. It took a while, but eventually, it became easier for his lungs to work properly and for his breathing to even out some.
Smell was a sense that he could've had blocked for a little longer. With how close his nose was to the ground, it was inevitable that grass was the fragrance that overstimulated scent glands. The blades pricked and tickled his nostrils in a way that made his nose itch irritably. He could smell other things in the air like vinca and catmint flowers.
Once upon a time, these smells would have brought him peace and warmth; would have sang to him and made his blood roar with appreciation as it did with any and every other normal hobbit in the land. What once was will never be again, it's been decades, centuries maybe— he does not know exactly— since he has been a regular hobbit. A Baggins and a Took in every sense of a way.
‘No longer I fear’
His sight took longer than any other to return. He had his eyes closed but he could tell that if he chose to open them, he would be able to see by the way he saw red from behind his eyelids with the way the sun shined down warmly on him. He tried to open his eyes but he felt drained.
Tired. So, so, sooo tired.
He was tired of everything. Physically tired, mentally tired, emotionally tired, and spiritly exhausted.
He didn't understand why this was happening, only thinking about unanswered questions that continued to torment him.
Why have the gods condemned him? Why does he have to go through this cursed cycle? Why was he allowed the promise of death just to live again?
He felt a sudden unpolished anger surge through him as he thought back to his other lives.
‘Why did Yavanna abandon him?’
As quick as the heated emotion came, it evaporated a moment later leaving a deep pang inside his heart that would never go away.
He’s learned to accept the curse for what it is. He has lost hope that the change he desires was never to come long ago. It was no use dwelling on the past, no need to waste energy channeling his inner brooding like a certain dwarf king that he knew.
Bilbo tries again to open his eyes with determined effort that is without waste. His eyelids drag up with the weight of two dragons on them. The sun hits his eyes and shuts them again.
“Orc balls,” he mumbled with a wince. He dropped his head further to the ground, taking comfort in the cool dirt on his damped skin. He tried again to open his eyes and is grateful to have his hair block out the sun from this angle. The first thing that he sees is his trusty walking stick lying a few centimeters away from him.
With a surge of excitement coursing through him, he willed his hands from underneath him to hold up his upper body. He managed to get to his elbows before white flashed behind his eyes. He lets out a small groan and stills his body until it can be accustomed to the position.
After a moment of waiting, Bilbo pushed his body into a sitting position ignoring the way his body let its protest be known by the shots of pain shooting down his spine. With the way it disagreed with him at every turn, it was a wonder why the amount of stress his (old? New?) body didn't send him to his grave.
‘Oh, if only it was that easy,’ he thought bitterly, staring at the greenery that surrounded him mindlessly. He picked up the stick laying carelessly by his leg with ease, rolling in between his fingers.
Bilbo's hearing came back a minute or two after his sight. His ears twitched, trying to familiarize himself with every bit of noise he could hear. He could hear birds chirping from afar, leaves shifting on branches above him, and the sound of his erratic breathing moving in sync with the loud thumping of his heart. He heaved out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of everything drag him down.
He reached a hand into the mop of curls on his head, tugging frantically. “I cannot do this, not again. I simply can't live another long life watching as everything comes to ruin as–as death plagues everyone near and dear to me.” The lump in Bilbo's throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed dryly, letting out a set of curses that would surely get him boxed in the ear if his mother were ever to hear. “OH! No, no, nononono, NO! Sweet Eru No! I CANNOT watch Frodo lose himself again. My sweet baby boy! How can I ever call myself a respectable Baggins and son of a Took if I let Frodo's life diminish before my eyes like it has every other time I've come back to this forsaken life!”
“Amusing to think that you still have the qualifications to call yourself a respectable Baggins. Truly optimistic of you.” The familiar whisper of the One Ring echoed from somewhere behind, always somewhere he couldn't pinpoint exactly but never too far to be antagonizing.
“Oh hush up you imploreable thing! I have no use for your mind gambling speech.”
“IMPLOREABLE?! Why the nerve—”
“— I have every nerve to cast you away.”
“Oh, cast away you say? You mean like how your precious Thorin cast you away hmm?”
Bilbo stilled, inhaling a shaky breath.
“Did that strike a nerve? You—”
“SHUT UP!”
The voice silenced, but Bilbo could still mildly feel its presence in a far corner of his mind.
Bilbo shook his head as the memories from his previous life flashed before his eyes. The lifespan of that life was a short one compared to the rest of the 428 lives he lived, but it managed to outrank most of them when it came to the term of most traumatic and anguished, placing itself in his top ten list.
His stomach churned as the image of cold blue eyes filled with uncontained rage and vengeance pierced through him, looking down at him as he fell from the great height on top of the stone wall raced through his mind in perfect quality.
His heart lurched achingly as the last moments before his scull slammed to the ground hit him like a hot steeled rod. A stingy sensation tinged and spread throughout the middle of his head, a reminder of his failures.
“Nope, stashing that in a box.” locking it deep in his mind before throwing away the key. “I do not have the compacity nor feel masochistic enough to open that can of worms.”
He shook his head again, firmly this time as he rocked himself to his feet. He leaned heavily on his stick as he was hit with a wave of nausea causing him to sway unevenly on his feet.
‘Stood up to fast’
The nauseous feeling passed after a while and soon he was able to stand upright. It was then that he noticed something was off, he had not run into anybody from the company like he usually did. It was strange because the drop-off was the same; he could vaguely remember himself yelling that he signed the contract before he was pulled back to his (old? New?) body.
However, as he looked around, he noticed that he did not have said contract on his person. He scratched his head and gave another glance around finding nothing. “Well, this is peculiar.”
A vague sense of panic settled on him as the weight of the situation set in. “Most peculiar situation indeed.
Bilbo mulled over what could have taken place for such change to occur but came up blank as there was nothing noteworthy in his assessment.
‘Was it my death?’
Bilbo quickly dismissed the thought. It made no sense for his death to be the changing factor as he has danced with death on numerous occasions, enough so that their relations would oddly be considered as flirting.
“The cause of death maybe?” He muttered under his breath, playing with the thought in his head. It was one possibility of many, but that singular death is the only variable he had at the moment that halfway made sense. Bilbo has lost count of how many times Thorin has held him over the wall threatening to to throw him over but this was the only time the dwarven king fell through with his promise.
He frowned the deep ache where his heart lay sharpened. “Not my problem, I'll leave that up to future me.” Bilbo shook his head, ridding himself of all emotions until he felt as hollow as an empty shell. His thoughts turned to a more positive route as he started to better understand his situation.
Nobody was there. He was on his lonesome meaning nobody could stop him, see as his face brightened as the lightbulb in his brain turned on.
He laughed breathlessly a plan started to form. Bilbo could take a break. He could use this timeline as a vacation and relax. He would not have to worry about destruction, he wouldn’t have to worry about dragon fire.
About war and death.
Bilbo leaned back on his heels and then forward on his toes before grabbing the seams of his waistcoat with a smile.
“Alrighty then, there’s no time to was—“
A twig snapped, causing him to snap out of his mini-day dream. Bilbo turned his head behind him with a startle, he turned completely around when his eyes registered just who interrupted his moment.
“Myrtle.”
The mid-sized pony snorted with a shake of her head, moving towards him with haste. When the gap between them closed, she wasted no time shoving her snout into the palms of Bilbo’s hands.
Bilbo smiled softly, “You’re as beautiful as ever, it’s been so long since I have seen you.” He ran his hand up and down between her eyes, petting her with fondness. “It does not however answer the question of what you are doing all the way over here.”
The four-legged creature blinked her eyes and bobbed her head before letting out a low-pitched neigh. Myrtle pressed her head against his chest firmly before taking a step back, gazing down at him.
Bilbo took note of the intensity of her eyes and cocked his head to the side questioningly. “What? What is it?”
Myrtle let out a few grunts before stomping one hoof on the ground. If he didn't know any better he would have said that he saw the pony roll its eyes at him and because he did know better he stared disapproving at her.
“Now that's just rude.”
Myrtle grunted again, placing her head on the Hobbit's chest once more leaving it there.
“I do not speak horse. I have not the faintest clue—” Bilbo stopped mid-sentence when he noticed it. There in her mouth layer a folded-up piece of paper. He took the paper and Myrtle let it go without a fuss. “What is this?”
Upon unfolding the paper, he immediately realized that it was the Company contract in his hand. He looked behind him at the space where he'd been lying when he arrived and took note of the empty space. “When did?—how did?”
Bilbo breathed in a sharp breath and turned to the pony once more. “You knew,” he framed it as a statement and the knowing glint in Myrtle's eyes only confirmed his thoughts. “You knew I was going to go, that I was not going to come.”
The only response he got to that was a lazy flick of a tail from her. Bilbo sighed and shook his head with mirth. “Outwitted by an animal, oh how time has fallen.”
“You know you are talking to a pony correct?”
“Right because I wasn't already talking to an inanimate object that has proven itself to be more than just a fragment of my mind.”
“If I recall, the title and name of ‘mad Baggins’ was given to you.”
“I am not mad,” Bilbo snapped.
He could feel the unamused stares from both the ring and the pony and chose to ignore the blatant rudeness with a sliver of annoyance. “I like to call myself misunderstood.”
All he received in return was a mocking ‘hmm’ from the voice and a long grunt from Myrtle that made his annoyance grow.
“Now see here, I will not allow you two to—”
“Master Baggins?”
Bilbo’s head snapped up in the direction of the new voice and sucked in a breath of air. He felt his insides threaten to collapse at the sight of the young prince standing a few paces from him with a smile that was as bright as the sun.
“Kili?”