Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The lost will always be found .

Nothing stays lost forever. Sometimes whispered as a comfort, sometimes whispered as a condolence. But that which is lost sometimes returns changed, far different than it had once been. 

Nothing stays lost forever.

Those words were as old as time itself and sometimes felt like such a grand lie. 

Where had Fíli heard such words, anyway? Had his mother told him that when she talked about Erebor? Had he heard it in passing? Did it even matter?

The growing anxiety woke Fíli from his bed with knots in his neck and shoulders. Looking to his side, he saw Kíli was still in a deep sleep that he envied in times like this. He moved from the bed, getting dressed and making his way to the main room where he was surprised to see someone else awake in the early hour. Of course, it was his mother. Her face was hard set into a frown as she stared at the cloak in her arms. As Fíli got closer, he realized she had been mending Kíli’s cloak. The knots in his shoulders ached as they tensed again.

“Mother,” Fíli whispered, but she shook her head silently. She had been too quiet the past few days. She had always been quiet but not like this. Kíli had been more than happy to stay away from it, but the arguing was hard to ignore. Between her and uncle, their home had become as tense as a warzone and Frerin could do nothing to help. 

Fíli walked to his mother and sat down beside the foot of her chair, letting the silence torment him as he watched the fire. “Is there really nothing I can do to keep you here?” she asked finally, after Fíli had made himself comfortable at the foot of her seat. The sentence was said so softly that it broke his heart. There wasn’t any way Kíli would stay when their uncles were leaving to reclaim their ancestral home. Fíli couldn’t let Kíli go without him.

“No,” Fíli said just as softly, leaning his head on her leg as she reached down and combed a hand through his hair. “It’s something we have to do. It’s our duty to support Thorin and reclaim Erebor…” He fell silent. It had been said a thousand times, he didn’t need to say it again. “Besides, you know Kíli. Uncle Thorin will struggle to rein him in and uncle Frerin will encourage it too much.”

“You like to pretend you aren’t just as foolhardy.” she commented, tugging at his hair and causing her son to let out a chuckle.

“I am very mature, thank you. I don’t get into trouble anymore.” Fíli shrugged as he felt his mother stand up and grab her hair grooming kit. Fíli, dutifully, scooted to sit in front of her and let her comb through his bed head in a more comfortable silence than before. Though, there were still the unspoken words weighing on his shoulders. He knew that if she really wanted, she could keep him and Kíli from going. She could make a better case than she had previously.

But she wasn’t, because she understood.

She understood that her boys were of age and eager to prove themselves. She understood the need to reclaim their birthright, one they had heard stories of since they were born. It wasn’t until Fíli felt something wet hit his neck that he turned around and realized that his mother was crying.

“Mother…” Fíli whispered as he rose to his knees and brought her into a hug. 

“A mother will always be afraid for her children. I will never be okay with you running into danger, but I know you need to go.” she whispered into his hair.

“We’ll come back. I’ll keep Kíli out of trouble and you know Thorin will knock sense into us if we are reckless.” he tried to comfort as a knock resounded at their door. Fíli almost sighed as his mother started to wipe away her tears and resume her role as a strong ruler. Fíli stood and headed to the door, opening it to see it was Dwalin. Dwalin grunted a brief greeting as he handed over a letter. “Uncle—”

“Already gone, lad. He’s recruiting but left this for you. We’re mobilizing, it’s best you get moving to the meeting point.” the gruff dwarrow explained, giving a brief but polite goodbye to his mother before leaving. Opening the letter, Fíli read through and the essential message— also brief— basically said ‘Go to Bywater’. 

Fíli wasn’t sure how well that would work out for them given that their change was in two days. Though, all he could do was sigh and return to his mother for her to finish doing his hair. By the time it was all nice and neat, his uncle Frerin had woken up and gotten himself dressed so Fíli went to wake his brother, but not before handing off the letter for the older dwarrow to read. 

Waking up a rock would have been easier. Fíli basically dressed Kíli as he fumbled about. It wasn’t until Fíli shoved food into his mouth that Kíli seemed to be awake. He almost allowed himself to laugh when he heard his mother’s voice.

“Frerin…” his mother called out as Fíli steered Kíli toward the door, their packs there and ready for the road ahead. He only spared a glance to see Frerin saying goodbye to his younger sister and kept walking, snatching his bag on the way out. He reached into his pocket to run a thumb over the rune stone he had been given. To say the least, he was apprehensive of the future he was embarking on. Though, Kíli’s crude joke was able to loosen his shoulders just a bit. 

So far their company consisted of people who had the curse. Thorin had hand picked eleven to follow him— not that he had a choice when it came to Kíli and himself, not to mention Dwalin or Frerin would never let Thorin go without him. Though he was told there were fourteen of them gathering for the quest and a possible fifteenth. Fíli tried to think of who else Thorin would pick, who else had the curse? Who would they find in Bywater?

“Getting nervous now that we are actually going?” Frerin asked, slinging his arm around Fíli’s shoulders. It only took a glance for his Uncle to understand. “Everything will work out. Thorin is a wise leader and he said we have the grey wizard to aid us. Stop thinking so hard and focus on what’s ahead of you now.” Frerin said, letting go just as Fíli’s foot hit a rock and he stumbled forward. “Like that rock.”

Fíli managed to catch himself but swore revenge under his breath as he shoved his uncle with a playful grin. He was right, though. The future would come when it came, there was no point in worrying about it now. Of course, looking at Kíli happily marching his way out of Thorin’s Hall, waving at some people he knew, Fíli wondered if Kíli was considering all the danger they would soon be in. Kíli wanted to prove he was strong and capable, so did Fíli, but—damn, he was doing it again.

He took a deep breath and jogged ahead of Frerin to catch up to Kíli. No matter what the future held, he would protect Kíli and he knew he could count on Kíli to protect him. He nearly tackled his younger brother and the rough housing began. 

He was sure Thorin would choose the last member of the advancing company wisely. He even spoke of a meeting with the other lords about reinforcements but he knew that meeting would take a few days. Kíli pushed him to the side and ran ahead, causing Fíli to laugh as he caught his breath.

“The lost will soon be found.” 

Fíli’s blood ran cold as he heard someone talking right behind him. He caught a glimpse of a green cloak but it seemingly disappeared into the crowd. Fíli scanned around, sure he was seeing things, until he heard his name being called. At some point his uncle had passed by him and he was looking at him with curiosity. 

Fíli sighed and hurried to catch up. They had to get to Bywater and, while the span of land between Ered Luin and the Shire was quite safe, they had to make a precise stop due to their curse but also get to the inn on time to meet the others. That was the plan…then they got a letter from the mysterious grey wizard, Tharkûn, redirecting them into an unassuming hobbit town in search of their fifteenth member.

However, by the time they had received the letter, it was the night of the full moon. The one night they could not control their physical form. “We’ll have to spend the night here and make the rest of the journey tomorrow.” Frerin explained and the boys nodded in understanding. They were passing through the last bit of woods before the large, rather vast, rolling hills and plains of the Shire. It was one of the last safe places to shift until they passed the Shire toward Bree.

As they settled down to make a camp, Fíli was already planning something. The letter called for a fifteenth member of the company that they had to pick up on the way. Considering that they were heading to a hobbit town, it was obviously not someone Thorin had picked out and Fíli was more than a little curious. 

So, of course, he was going to get a sneak peak tonight. 

Usually, during the shifts, they had both their mother, Frerin, and Thorin around to help them. The older dwarrow would shift first before they did to comfort Kíli and Fíli during the uncomfortable and painful experience, but now it was just Frerin. He had been thinking about it—if he was honest, he was dreading it— and had come to a conclusion. “Kíli, stay here.” Fíli said, wincing as a jolt of pain rode up his spine. He knew Kíli was already feeling it because he was fidgeting. The sun was almost set and Frerin was fixing the fire before it was too late.

“Where are you going?” Kíli asked before grunting in pain and unconsciously taking a few steps toward Frerin.

“I’m going to change and make sure the surroundings are safe.” Fíli said simply, “Don’t worry about me.”  He waved off, though if he were honest with himself he was definitely worried. He had never done a change without someone with him. Well, once Dwalin had been there and he wished he was alone.

As he left the growing campfire light, Frerin’s gaze following him, he made for a relatively safe position by a pile of rocks as fast as he could. By the time he stumbled upon them he could hear the faint noises of Frerin’s transformation. He would have usually waited but since he was alone this time, he let his transformation wash over him. By washing over him, he meant: hit him like an iron bull.

It was as scary as he thought it would be… times ten. Only while he was shifting did he think that they should have both tried simulating shifting on their own in safe environments before then. However, a lack of foresight meant that he and Kíli were anything but prepared for the difference in location. 

Thankfully, by the time he had been able to regain his senses, he was still safe and alone in the clearing. He could hear the distant whining from Kíli but knew that their uncle was there to comfort him so he turned toward the east and took off. Kíli was stubborn whenever Fíli had suggested it but running off the pain really did work. It stretched out all his muscles and offset the hurt with everything one could say was ‘good’ about being a wolf . 

Yeah, he and Kíli whispered about it but never divulged their thoughts to others. Being a wolf had so many perks to speak of but fear of what others would think kept them from raising their voices. One such benefit was the feeling of the wind as they ran. They could run so fast, 'faster than wargs' Dwalin claimed and it felt freeing. It felt one could outrun their problems and perhaps Fíli ran with that thought in mind. For just a little bit, he felt free from the burdens of his birth. Which was quite funny, because the wolf he transformed into was one of those burdens.

Fíli bounded across the vast clearings and over hills, making sure he remained alone out there—aside from the occasional nocturnal creature that skittered away at the sound of his paws thumping against the misted ground. Then it came into sight. It was Hobbiton, a town of hobbits all tucked in for a good night’s rest. The smells of food from that day were still lingering amidst the houses and it just managed to make Fíli even hungrier than he already was. He had been instructed to go to Bag End and find a Bilbo Baggins but now that he realized it, he hadn’t really studied the map that they had been given…but he could just look for the rune the wizard spoke of.

As quietly as he could he rounded the town, observing each street and door— accidentally startling some cows on his way. He was just about to head back in defeat when he caught a scent on the passing breeze. It was sweet smelling like flowers and earthy like fresh soil after a light rain, though clearly not coming from those things. Fíli, intrigued by the scent, followed his nose to a large pasture with a peculiar tree. Beneath that tree was something he wasn’t quite sure of. 

It almost looked like a fox but it was too big to be that. It also almost looked like a wolf…but too small for that as well. Its fur was long and a golden color with a clear silver sheen that he wasn’t sure was their fur or the moon reflecting off them. As Fíli hunched down to better hide himself in the tall grass, he moved slowly forward. He wasn’t meaning to look threatening, as he no doubt did, but he wanted a better look at the strange creature. 

The creature was peculiar, most definitely not a regular wolf—he had never heard of a wolf that looked like this—and the dappled coloring along its back made him think that perhaps it was also a beastkin. Only beastkin could have designs in their fur. The Elves commonly had very visible freckles along their fur or vines of color. Even Dwalin’s scars showed up in his fur as streaks of lighter fur. However, the dappled spots on its back were just the moonlight as when it moved so did the spots. 

Despite its otherworldly appearance and the elegance it exuded, it seemed to just be a large fox. Of course, even as he continued sniffing around the town, the fox was on his mind. There was something simply too odd about it. Then he realized that despite being so careful and his senses being so keen, he was being followed. He hadn’t realized it was following him until it was above him. 

He had simply been wondering about some of the plants in a garden and that had been enough of a distraction to allow the big fox the advantage. As he looked up above the door of the hill house that hobbits seemed to love so much, he realized that it had known he was here the whole time. His every move had been watched and their meeting perfectly arranged to its advantage. It, despite its delicate and elegant looks, was a he and he was mad. 

Fíli would usually be a lot more aggressive when being met with an aggressive stance and fangs being bared at him, but he knew he was the intruder here. This large fox or small wolf—whatever it was— was likely living here or nearby and Fíli was far from home. As intelligent golden eyes analyzed him, Fíli became absolutely sure that this was a beastkin of some kind.

Fíli, though it hurt his pride, flattened his ears and tucked his tail, letting out a small whine. Immediately the display worked and the other’s ears perked forward and released their snarl. They seemed wary for a moment but when Fíli half rolled over, he seemed won over. They let out a sigh and Fíli thought that was the end of it…but then the unexpected happened.

“You do not belong here. Leave. Come back in the daylight.” They spoke, and Fíli was flabbergasted. His jaw almost literally fell open as the other hopped down from the higher perch on agile paws. 

He. Spoke.

This beastkin could talk in their beast form! That was possible? How was that possible?! Could he learn how to do that?!

Fíli, in his excitement, couldn’t control his tail as it wagged and he tried to talk only for it to come out as yips and whines. “Hush! Do you wish to wake the whole town?” The other wolf said, head swishing around before the smaller—definitely a wolf— wolf pushed him away from the house where a light was being fostered. 

Oops, he had totally forgotten where he was and that it was the middle of the night. As the small wolf passed by him and bounded up the hill, Fíli followed after him. As they ran away from the home he had disturbed, he realized that while he could hear his own paws thumping against the ground, he could not hear those of the golden wolf. He was so quiet that, even if he had been paying attention, they still would have snuck up on him. He also realized, now that he was a lot closer to them, that the moon was not responsible for the silver sheen of their fur.

Of course, that was an afterthought as he had so many questions. However, while he was curious, he had absolutely no way to ask questions or get answers while in wolf form. Besides that, after tonight, he may never be able to see this wolf again. 

He really combed through his mind for some kind of idea on how to communicate but ended up with nothing. By the time they stopped, they were back at that odd tree in the field. “Speak. Why are you here?” The other wolf asked and Fíli had no choice but simply prove he could not talk like this through a few more yips and whines. “A Wildborn that can’t talk?” the question seemed to be asked more toward himself than Fíli. “Can’t you change back?” he asked and Fíli shook his head. 

Now it was their turn to be dumbfounded. “Regardless, you–” a sharp howl pierced through the night, putting Fíli immediately on guard as the other wolf sighed. “Leave, before others find you where you don’t belong.”

While Fíli had so many questions he wanted answered, he couldn’t argue. That reaction made him think the ones howling weren’t so understanding. With a downcast look he turned back towards the west where he had come from and started back to his camp. He had been distracted, but once the distraction was behind him, growing into a small light-furred dot among the greenery, he felt the spikes of hunger. It wouldn’t be bad to grab some dinner on the way back to his family.

However, food was not enough to distract him from the irritation and sadness of not being able to ask the questions he had wanted. It was obvious they understood something he didn’t, or perhaps it was worse in that he couldn’t talk because what turned them into beasts was a curse. He knew that the other races understood and treated the beast curse differently—or maybe it was fundamentally different from theirs since a dragon cursed them. That thought did nothing to ease his irritation and anger at his own predicament.

However, as he returned to his brother and uncle, well fed—overfed actually, he hunted a little more than he should have— he found his brother curled up against Frerin’s side. The older dwarrow lifted his head and Fíli didn’t need to hear him to know his question. Where did you run off to? Fíli greeted his uncle as he was the leader for the moment before he made himself comfortable on his other side, sandwiching the older in the middle.

Fíli let his head fall to the ground with a huff as he closed his eyes. The anxiety and irritation mixed with running had rendered him exhausted. He knew that they would all be safe as well, his family were more than twice the size of a typical wolf after all…wait… does that make the wolf he saw earlier normal sized?

That was the thought he fell asleep to.

“The lost will soon be found.”

By the time morning came, he was in his normal dwarrow body. Thankfully the transformation out of wolf form was never as painful—or just painless enough to sleep through. Kíli was still sleeping soundly and he was sure he woke up early again, something that was becoming a painful daily ritual, because of the burning questions that would never be answered. 

He got dressed and enjoyed watching the sun rise, light filtering through the leaves of trees. Given how long he ran last night to get to the little hobbit town, he realized it would probably take them most of the day to walk there as a normal dwarrow. While they had no ponies, uncle Thorin had assured them they would be purchasing them from the hobbits before leaving for their journey in earnest. They were a day away from the true start of their quest. 

“Get up!” Frerin called out as he helped Fíli get his armor on before moving to pull Kíli up from his half kneel. “I swear, boy, you’d sleep through a cave in,” their good natured uncle laughed as Kíli slowly roused from slumber. He always slept just a bit heavier after their shifts. Though Fíli doubted he could sleep heavier given on a daily basis it was like waking the dead.

When Kíli had been woken up enough to dress himself, he and Frerin helped him with his armor and cloak. The fondness he felt for his brother, even with his bedhead, continued to be unfathomable. Sometimes he stopped to wonder just how someone could feel so connected and affectionate towards another. 

He let out a soft sigh as he followed after his family. Yesterday was really messing with his head. He had to focus on them. His duty both as an elder brother, nephew, and as an heir. It wasn’t like he would see the wolf again.

At least, he had convinced himself that. 

However, as he seemed to retrace his steps through Hobbiton, this time with his uncle and brother, he realized he was heading to the last place he had seen the little wolf. Had to be a coincidence, this town was not that big. There was a market, hill houses, and a little further still there was the Green Dragon. 

As the sun started to set and the houses lit up, Fíli felt a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been distracted.” Kíli stated, but the question was clear. His brother, though excitable, was not a fool. 

“Just thinking. It’s nothing,” Fíli tried to pass it off but Kíli scoffed.

“Brother, you are thinking so hard it's hurting my head.” When Fíli didn’t respond Kíli made a faux pained grunt and held his head. It started with Fíli giving him a playful shove and devolved into rough housing until Frerin locked both their heads under his arms.

“That’s enough, boys. If we don’t get to our meeting point soon, we’ll have to endure Thorin’s brooding.” he exclaimed and that was enough to have the boys take off to the top of the hill, leaving their poor uncle behind looking baffled. “I didn’t mean we had to run…” he muttered as he followed after.

Fíli, at some point, forgot they were searching for a particular door as his nose picked up the familiar scent he had taken in the previous night. That scent led him to a round green door that just so happened to be marked with a rune. “How did you know this was the one?” Kíli asked and Fíli tapped his nose hoping that was a good enough answer.

Then they knocked and the one that answered smelled of wildflowers and fresh soil misted with a light rain. 

He was glad to not have a tail at that moment, but then again, his face probably said it all.

Chapter Text

Dwarves.

Dwarves everywhere. It had started as one and ended up with a dozen of them by the time the knocks stopped. However, it wasn’t the fact that they were ruining his pristine house that bothered him, nor was it the fact that Gandalf had invited them all without hinting as such leaving him unprepared. It was the noise. 

He was so utterly unprepared for the noise. His house had always been silent. So quiet that his footsteps could be heard and that was a feat. Before Gandalf’s visit, the best companionship he had gotten was the friendly greeting from Mr. Gamgee. Though, he was the only one that even acted like he existed. Any Hobbit that passed his house turned their head another way as if distracted by something. 

He knew why. He was not a short-haired golden wolf that represented the Baggins clan nor was he a long-haired silver wolf that represented the Tooks. He was a mutt . Though, as he was still placed as a guardian and still remained the ruler of Bag End, he was given his dues. His pantry was always stocked with offerings but the people never looked at him nor spoke to him. They gossiped like hobbits often do, but it wasn’t the typical gossip. It was the kind done behind closed doors and most certainly without him nearby to hear. However, all their words always made it back to him, not that he could do anything about it. He guarded their homes from dusk until dawn only for people to whisper their pity and disgusting thoughts about him behind closed doors. 

It was plain discrimination. Even his family turned their backs on him. The only reason he was the master of Bag End and a guardian was because they could not deny that he was more powerful and larger than any wolf on either side.

This fact may have made him quite bitter. 

Bitter that no one truly acknowledged him aside from the kind gardener who, even with his kind greeting, was afraid to say more.

Bitter that he had been alone for so long and there was no end to the silence that consumed his home. 

Despite the yearning he had for change, when Gandalf came heralding its arrival, he had been afraid. Of course, he realized that Gandalf would bring trouble to his door and eventually get his way, but for a few precious hours he had time to think.

Well, the rest was history. Now, however, he had dwarves and a trouble making wizard in his home. Not to mention the pup that, despite a rough meeting, had been practically staring a hole in the back of his head since he got there. He had his suspicions that the Wildborn he found wandering Hobbiton had something to do with Gandalf but it didn’t keep the shock off his face when he caught the familiar scent upon opening his door.

The shaggy, massive, golden wolf he had found last night had made their way into his home…along with his entire pack. 

He acted annoyed, he pretended he didn’t want them there and he would be better off if they left. However, if some stubborn part of him relented, he would say that it was nice. Even if he was not included in the fun, it was nice to see people happy and at least acknowledging him as the benefactor. He even went so far as to learn that everyone in the room was a wolf Wildborn. He wanted to know more, like what Wildborn wolves outside the Shire looked and behaved like—

And then a party killer arrived.

An intimidating party killer that made him want to change form so he could run away. Despite that desire, he greeted him politely as any Baggins would and took his cloak while his company ushered him to the dining room. 

Long story turned short, Gandalf blackmailed him into accepting all the while feigning that it would be good for him. Thus the wolf guardian of Hobbiton was swept away to the collective relief of the Shire. 

He was sure they were all thinking the same thing.

Thank Yavanna the mutt is gone.

Maybe Gandalf was right. After this journey is done, perhaps he would have a reason to live— truly live, not just exist. 

Or not.

As they clopped their way down the east road toward Bree, even if the wolf pup wanted to talk to him, the rest of the dwarves were decidedly against it. He had seen the blonde steer toward him only for the gruff one to stop him and urge him ahead. It was something he was familiar with. 

Mothers corralling their children away.

The one wearing the knitted mittens was about to speak to him when the one with complicated braids came up between them and started to fuss over him, pushing their ponies apart. 

Why should he bother learning their names? Nothing was going to change. They would use him and then toss him out after.

The stares and suspicion were enough to make him go insane. If they were going to treat him with so much mistrust, why offer him a role in this damn company? He was starting to prefer the blatant head turning as opposed to the looks and purposeful use of Khuzdul to leave him out. 

His green eyes may as well have turned red as he glared daggers toward Gandalf ahead of him. Yes, he talked merrily with Oakenshield as they made their way to the gate of Bree. Meanwhile, Bilbo felt as though he had aged fifty years in the past few hours. Not only from the agitation of being ignored after the hospitality he offered them the previous night, but from the wolf in his core that took it all as an affront. He really tried not to react, he had known that dwarves were suspicious by nature. However, with each look his thin patience wore thinner.

It also didn’t help that he had forgotten his cloak and handkerchief. As they gave their ponies to the stable boy, Bilbo heard the most outlandish conversation.

“It’ll be fifteen silver pennies.” the stable master explained and that was an outlandish price. Fifteen pennies could purchase themselves another pony. Stabling the ponies they had should have taken no more than seven. Besides that, everyone in Bree was familiar with him, in fact he knew the stable master by name. 

“Mr. Wesley,” Bilbo called out, wondering if he should just keep his mouth shut. After all, it’s not like the dwarves had done him any favors. However, he reasoned that if he were to turn a blind eye it would make him just as bad. “I hope you are jesting with a price like that.” he smiled as he turned to face the stable master and Oakenshield. 

The suspicious and hostile look on the dwarf’s face made Bilbo want to throttle him, though, by some divine intervention, his attention remained focused on the man. There was a flash of worry upon the man’s face before he chuckled “Master Baggins!” Mr. Wesley exclaimed “It usually is a lower price but with outsiders you never know.” the man explained without a doubt that he was in the right. “But, if you were to vouch for them…” he trailed off, waiting for an answer. Bilbo glanced toward the other dwarves who were waiting and watching. He almost sighed outwardly before nodding. “Then seven silver pennies will do for the night.” He stated and Bilbo was sure, if looks could kill, he would be dead. Oakenshield was livid at having to rely on an outsider for support.

Damn did that give Bilbo satisfaction. 

Regardless, the ponies were left at the stable under the care of Mr. Wesley and the young stable boy, Ruben. 

Bilbo was excited to be in Bree. Why? Because in Bree he was appreciated. The men and women of the human settlement looked upon him favorably and were even excited to see him. He was a local hero after all. Even in the deep throes of despair, he had been able to find happiness along these streets. As a pup he had walked them and now as a guardian he protected them. Beyond favorable treatment, they looked and acknowledged him for what he could do. A bright contrast to the disdain of his own people.

How funny to find a hobbit that likes being around the much larger men and women of Bree than around hobbits of their own size and culture. Bilbo thought it was hilarious in a very resentful manner. Perhaps he should have moved to Bree and let the Shire be rid of him. Of course, he stayed because of the smial that his parents called home. Now it would be left to Primula and Drogo. Of all the hobbits of his family, they had seemed to care the most. 

Bilbo shook his head, he should appreciate his time in Bree while he could. Somehow, he just knew the dwarves would find some way to sour his mood. 

They walked through the streets of Bree toward the inn, Bilbo being greeted by the passers. Most often they were women and children who were fascinated by Wildborns or appreciated his protection. He had gotten quite a few little ones that asked him all about his wolf before their mother apologized for the bombardment of questions. By the time they made it, Bilbo was ready to eat and have a good drink. 

“Master Baggins!” Bilbo wished people would just call him Bilbo as the Baggins name barely held any meaning to him. 

“Good evening, Master Darrius.” Bilbo looked to the side to see an older man puffing on a pipe just outside an inn door. They had been working their way toward the Prancing Pony, however Bilbo had found Darrius’ inn to be just as satisfactory, if not more for its homey nature. He stepped off to the side, watching as the dwarves passed him by, save for the blonde pup and the one that followed him around.

“I am glad to see you in these parts again. Been a while since you came around.” the man said, eyes glancing to the two dwarves that seemed to be waiting for him or curious as to what he was doing.

“Indeed, I have had…well, it’s been busy. Do you perhaps have that room available?” he asked and when he glanced back he realized the company had stopped. It was more courteous than he had expected of them. “Perhaps room enough for fourteen dwarves,” he added and the man nodded. 

He scanned across what he assumed was the entire company and nodded again. “I can get you three quartets and your usual.” the inn master explained. “Twenty pennies for you, sir.” he explained and Bilbo nodded as the man tapped out the burned pipe weed and entered the establishment. “Tamia, Baggins is back.” the man called as he stepped behind the counter to grab the keys. Bilbo smiled in his busy daughter’s direction before reaching into his inner pocket. The coins were placed on the counter, not by Bilbo, but by Oakenshield. Bilbo avoided looking at the dwarves entering the building as he sighed and headed toward a table in the back. 

“Tamia—”

“Already on it, Master Baggins!” The young waitress called out as she placed down four mugs of mead to a table of rangers. 

Home. This had to be the closest thing to a home that Bilbo had since his parents died. He had watched Tamia grow up since she was a tot and had even been there when Mr. Darrius was married to Erin. He had not been there when childbirth had claimed her life, but after he had been a comfort for the widower. Regardless, Tamia worked hard with her father to maintain their life and he was right proud of her. 

Yes, this had to be what people consider feeling at home .

A mug was placed on his table and it was certainly not his. “Everyone here seems to think highly of you.” The blond pup said as he took a seat, his brother was not far behind him and slid in beside him. 

“You have been staring a hole in my head since last night,” Bilbo stated as Tamia brought over his favorite drink and snack. “I expect you have more to say than that.” he didn’t bother looking at either of the dwarves as he took a long drink of the special fruit mead that Tamia makes every summer. Mixed with the cheese and meats she had brought out Bilbo was put more at ease than he had been on the road. 

“How did you talk in your beast form?” he asked—actually what was his name again? Bilbo had not bothered to remember most of the company—very purposefully— for their disrespect. He had gotten so far as Balin and Dwalin, as they were the first to arrive in his home, and Bofur had the silly hat. Oakenshield was remembered simply because he pissed Bilbo off. 

ANYWAY. There was a whole new issue now. “How old are you?” Bilbo asked, looking at them and taking in their features for the first time since they arrived in Bree.

“What does age have to do with it?” the darker haired brother asked as he glanced at Tamia, perhaps wanting to order food.

“Even Shire pups learn to speak in their animal form before their majority.” Bilbo clarified “No one has taught you to do that?”

“...We…” the blond one paused, his lips hard pressed into a line. “Didn’t realize it was possible…” he finished after a long moment and Bilbo almost laughed. These dwarves were treating him like a liability and they couldn’t figure out how to talk in their animal forms? Perhaps it was his bitterness that let him feel a spark of joy at their plight, however, self control let him just sigh it out. 

“Next you will say you can’t acquire.” Bilbo muttered just loud enough for the boys to hear.

“What does that mean?” Bilbo was shocked to silence as he stared. The dark-haired one didn’t seem to understand the shock but the blond one looked almost nervous. 

“It’s when a Wildborn is able to use the abilities of their animal kin when in their normal body.” Bilbo explained and waited for them to say they simply didn’t know it had a name.

“Fíli has real good hearing and I have real good eyes! That’s what you mean, right?” At least he knew the golden pup’s name now. 

“Not quite…” Bilbo’s bitterness seemed to settle in the wake of realizing that these two seemed to know nothing about their own nature. “Certain senses will arise to the surface regardless of whether you learn to acquire. Senses that you are most in tune with.” Bilbo explained, “Learning to acquire does not come naturally. In the Shire, we typically get a good handle on acquiring soon after our majority since it’s a refined skill—” The dark-haired dwarf seemed to get lost while his brother was listening intently. Bilbo took a drink of his mead before clearing his throat. 

“Think of it this way. You are controlling your shift down to the last muscle. You can learn to shift only your eyes so you can see at night or transform your muscles so you can increase your endurance and speed. Get good enough at it and you can use your fangs and claws without…” Bilbo paused as he realized both were staring at him dumbfounded. Bilbo himself was also dumbfounded. Someone please tell him that the rest of the company were not as clueless as these two.

Bilbo looked to the side and spotted the table the rest of the dwarves were at. They kept looking at Bilbo’s table but did nothing about the two boys that decided to join him, unlike during their ride into town.

His skin almost prickled at the unsettled feeling that washed over him. He really wished Gandalf was there. Of course, the moment they got to Bree he gave a lame excuse and left to do something else. That crafty owl was going to be the end of him.

“Can you teach us how to do that?” Fíli asked, and Bilbo had intended to say no. Strictly for the reason that he doubted he would get any kind of kindness or appreciation in return. Then he saw the look on Fíli’s face and the words got caught in his throat. He and his brother looked at him hopefully and if he really looked back neither of these two had been cruel to him nor did they seem to want to ignore him. Out of all the other dwarves, perhaps these two were worth an effort. However, he would not allow himself to open up. He would not let himself believe that he would finally find true companions or, Yavanna forbid, a pack of his own. A place to belong was never something he could have as a mutt .

“Fine,” Bilbo sighed “Though, I doubt Oakenshield will let you.” he muttered after but with his confirmation, the boys scrambled out of their seats and to the table of dwarves. Slowly, there was a rise in voices and shock, and Bilbo was left with regretting his choice to even explain it. 

Bilbo, feeling the pressure of many eyes, decided he would have his dinner in his room. He passed by Darrius and picked up his key and headed off toward the stairs. 

Was this why Gandalf wanted him on this quest? 

Sure, he said ‘let’s have Bilbo sneak past the dragon’ but there had to be another reason and perhaps he had found it. This had to be part of his convoluted plan. For, in between the lines of what he said, Bilbo could now read that he had been planning everything from the start. He was quite the talent, after all.

Bilbo had been taught the combat prowess of the Tooks who protected the Shire and the diplomacy and knowledge of the Baggins’ who maintained order. 

He scoffed as he entered his room and closed the door behind him. Gandalf had never thought Bilbo would go back to the Shire after this journey.

He wasn’t sure he would either, but who was he to assume that he would follow these damn dwarves beyond this journey?

That owl was going to get a firm scolding when he showed back up. 

Chapter Text

Bilbo kept himself in his room, enjoying a thick slice of perfectly cooked lamb and a salad, all the while a conversation was brewing downstairs. All the dwarrow had been watching Bilbo and the young Durins talk and when they had returned to the rest of them, they had news to share that was absolutely jaw dropping. Fíli had just a bit more explaining to do than Kíli for the reason that he hadn’t told anyone he met the hobbit the night before their official meeting. 

“Start from the beginning, Fíli.” Thorin demanded and Fíli had no choice but to do as he was told. 

“I visited Hobbiton the night before the rest of you. I wanted to scout it out and see if I couldn’t find our last member. While I was sniffing around, Bilbo found me and I found out he could talk even in his beast form. It was hardly a conversation but…he did say something that should have caught my attention.” Fíli hummed in thought as he took a drink of his ale. “He said I should leave before the others found me. He isn’t the only beastkin in the Shire.” Fíli explained and the group nodded, contemplating what that meant. Also pausing to think about how Bilbo tensed like he was... apprehensive when he spoke about the others. He hadn't thought about it at first, thinking perhaps it was his fault but now...s omething akin to worry twisted in his stomach as he pushed on. “This means there are more beastkin out there than just the elves. Maybe—”

“You are missing the best part!” Kíli interrupted Fíli who almost slapped a hand over his brother's mouth, but instead managed to look over calmly. “Bilbo knows how to talk as a wolf and he told us that we can learn to control our shifting!” Kíli exclaimed, directing the conversation at the part that excited him the most. 

Ori seemed the most intrigued and took out his notebook “What else did he say?” Ori asked and Kíli was all too glad to dive into the details he understood of the conversation. He explained, to the best of his ability, what Bilbo had said. When he was unsure of one of the details he confirmed with Fíli who was also looking quite excited. “He said he would teach us!” Kíli ended the explanation and the mood was not as bright and enthusiastic as he had expected it to be. 

“I don’t think it’ll do us any good to get closer to this curse.” Dwalin grunted.

Kíli and Fíli were taken back, Ori simply looked down at his journal, his pen lax in his hand. “If we are going to be stuck with this, why shouldn’t we learn more about it? It will help us control it.” Fíli asked, looking between Thorin and Dwalin. If Thorin disagreed, he would have said so, obviously they were on the same page.

“The closer we get to the curse, the more we will lose ourselves. I told you about your grandfather and king Thror, you should know what happens when you accept the curse.” Thorin explained and Fíli turned to Frerin for help. He should’ve known better. Frerin, though having a more humorous personality, wouldn’t go against Thorin. He also stood as witness to what happened to their family after Smaug cursed them. “When we defeat that blasted dragon, the curse will lift and we will think no more of it.” Thorin tried to ease the tension of the three young dwarrow but Kíli stood and left, Fíli following after. 

Thorin sighed and shook his head. “Thorin, they don’t know as well as we do. They didn’t see…” Frerin hesitated as he thought of Azanulbizar. The place that almost claimed his life. A steady hand fell on his shoulder as if Thorin could read his thoughts.

“What of the hobbit, then?” Balin asked. “What do you make of him?”

Thorin remained silent as he thought about it.

“I wonder if that means he is blessed like the elves.” Frerin added in. When Thorin looked at him with a raised eyebrow he elaborated. “There are people who say that the elves are blessed instead of cursed and feel no pain in transformation.” Of course, that was hard to confirm as they stayed as far away from elves as possible and the fact they never changed forms in front of other races.

“I can see how elves would be different but what would make Bilbo like them?”

"What makes theirs a blessing?"

“He’s got the pointy ears.”

“Maybe he’s half elf.” Bofur’s absentminded thought had probably been a mistake. He could tell he may have made the poor hobbit’s life worse with that suggestion. “Hey, now. We don’t know if he is, it was just a thought.” The dwarrow backpedaled as fast as he could but the damage was done. Even the suggestion that he may be related to the race dwarves hated most was enough to piss Thorin off. Bofur cringed as he imagined how Thorin would end up treating Bilbo tomorrow with that thought in his head.

“A halfling elf? How ridiculous.” Dwalin scoffed as if to diffuse the tense look that Thorin had. “Aside from the ears he shares nothing with them. Not to mention he is smaller than us.” Bofur could kiss Dwalin for his hidden kind heart. He wouldn’t but he was so relieved he felt he definitely could. 

After his blunder turned Thorin’s mood sour, the rest of the company dismissed themselves to the three rooms that Bilbo had bargained for. Well, bargained was a strong word since the inn keeper so willingly gave him the rooms at a reasonable price. They all knew why Thorin was irritated about needing the help of another to not get swindled out of hard earned money but any coin saved, by Bilbo’s help or otherwise, was still appreciated. 

The dwarves split up the rooms. Fíli and Kíli went to a room with Glóin and Óin , trying their best to drive home the fact they were upset with their uncles. As they settled in for the night, everyone fell asleep to the contemplation of the little hobbit burglar…. kidding. Bombur was definitely not thinking of that, Bifur was thinking of the good meal they just had, Glóin was reliving good memories with his family, and Frerin fell asleep immediately and was definitely not dreaming of the hobbit…or anything really. He was a dreamless sleeper, out like a light until morning.

Actually…almost no one had put any more thought into the hobbit conversation. Perhaps it was just Thorin that was bothered. Regardless, everyone was able to settle into their rooms— a two on the floor in bedrolls— and get a nice good rest in. 

Except Thorin. Which was made obvious in the morning. 

Everyone packed up in silence— suffocating silence. Fíli and Kíli had escaped it by being up earlier than the rest and being downstairs to eat breakfast. Ori had escaped it at the cost of his brothers and Frerin just straight up ignored him and walked downstairs. Frerin was so unbothered that he was shoveling food into his mouth and even ordered a second helping. It did not escape the dwarves that Bilbo had been down there first. It also did not escape them that he was blatantly ignoring them.

Many of them thought that was for the best, but as nephews often do, they decided to stir that pot. They both stood up and took their breakfast over to the hobbit’s table where they then sat down and quietly ate. Let’s repeat that: quietly ate. They weren’t talking to one another nor to Bilbo who seemed more than happy to eat in silence, if not a little confused. However, the little hobbit didn’t bother to confirm anything with the larger group of dwarves nearby. Perhaps he even avoided looking on purpose.

In the end, not only was packing tense, but breakfast was intolerably quiet, good thing quiet conversations was a specialty for two of their members. Bofur and Bifur were talking in Iglishmêk, having finished their meal, and seemed unbothered. Everyone seemed to eat without tasting a thing because breakfast was over in record time for most of them.

For most of them. 

“Fíli, Kíli, finish up.” Thorin demanded and got no answer in return. Before Thorin could get onto the boys, Frerin spoke up. 

“Boys, Bilbo, the stable master was only paid for the night.” Frerin reminded as he walked over and tried to communicate the situation with his eyes. 

“Bilbo, what do you think?” Fíli asked as he took a slow bite of his pastry. 

Bilbo was good at having a poker face, but Frerin could see the subtle lines of amusement forming. “Oh, I don’t know. Tamia makes a wonderful parfait that you two might find enjoyable. It’s quite sweet, though.” Bilbo finished off his sausage.

“I like sweet things.” Kíli smiled and when his uncle’s usually kind and sometimes humorous face hardened into a glare, the smile fell and he looked away.

Bilbo sighed as Tamia came to the table with three servings of the parfait. He pulled out some money and gestured her forward before placing it in her hands. “For the cups and spoons.” he said as he picked his up and hopped out of his chair. “Since you are so keen to leave, we shall have our breakfast on the road.” he glanced back to make sure that Fíli and Kíli had grabbed theirs before walking straight past Thorin with a spoon in his mouth and a sharp glance out of the side of his eyes.

Kíli’s smile came back quickly as he bounded past his uncles, victorious because of Bilbo’s quick thinking. If it had kept going, they would have lost the argument. Everyone loses when Thorin loses his temper.

Bilbo was nice, Kíli decided as he looked into his parfait cup. He then looked to Bilbo who was walking separated from the rest of them, then to Fíli who looked at him with a spoonful of parfait in his mouth and a smile. They were of the same mind and Kíli knew above all that his brother was an excellent judge of character. 

Though, the evidence was all around them. Bilbo was treated like a hero and everyone seemed to know him. Kíli and Fíli fell to the back of the pack and flanked each of Bilbo’s sides. “I noticed you don’t have a cloak,” Fíli stated and Kíli shouldered Bilbo’s bag.

“Is it in there?” he asked, picking up on Bilbo’s hesitance. A whole day of suspicion and scorn had left its mark but Kíli had every intention of fixing that as quickly as possible. Besides, Bilbo was going to help them reclaim Erebor. As heirs, it was their responsibility to make up for the mistakes of their stubborn king.

“No, I forgot it.” Bilbo stated, his tone flat but not cold.

“That’s no good,” Fíli and Kíli said at the same time.

“It’s definitely going to rain on our journey,”

“It’s not like you can share one of ours,” 

The boys looked at one another for a long moment before looking forward to Thorin and then around them. Kíli clicked his tongue and gestured with his head in a direction, Fíli nodded and handed off his empty cup to his brother. “Agreed, then.” They once again spoke in unison as if they had been practicing. Bilbo was about to open his mouth and disagree with whatever they were doing but it seemed one of the pups was an expert at disappearing. Fíli was gone from his side in a moment and, following scent trails, he spotted him off on a side road heading toward a shop.

He had a feeling that Fíli was off to buy him a cloak but then why didn’t he bring Bilbo? His eyes looked to Thorin and perhaps that was all the answer he needed. Those beady blue eyes were looking at him like he was waiting for some kind of excuse to accuse him of something. Perhaps he wasn’t giving these boys enough credit. 

As they approached the stables, Bilbo watched as Thorin subtly fell toward the back of the company, the only reason could be to keep an eye on him and the young dwarrow with him. “Will Fíli be able to catch up by the time we saddle the ponies?” Bilbo asked, glancing behind them.

“Yeah, he’s quicker than you would think.” Kíli stated as the ponies were getting saddled and the dwarrow situated their supplies. Low and behold, as they were pulling the ponies out of the stables, Fíli was approaching with a rolled up cloak. Kíli passed him his pony and they all mounted. Bilbo was the last one on his pony as he was unlikely to get used to riding one, and the company set off on their grand adventure once again. 

As they clopped down the road, Fíli handed off the cloak he had gotten. “Decent quality, should last you until we can get something better. ” Bilbo scrunched his face and the young dwarrow laughed. “Call it thanks for the help at breakfast–”

“And the parfaits!” Kíli added in.

Bilbo thanked them even though his mind was in absolute chaos. Bilbo knew what the boys wanted. Their conversation at dinner made it clear that Bilbo knew a lot more about being a Wildborn than they did. That was still worrisome but it wasn’t like he could ask the older dwarves about it, if they would even acknowledge he was there. The issue was, if they were being nice just until they got what they wanted.

Bilbo almost sighed as he looked over each member of the company. Bilbo wasn’t so ignorant to say the whole group was against him. Thorin, as the pack leader, was the one that set the tone for the rest, thus his treatment. He could tell at least three of the others (aside from Fíli and Kíli) wanted to include him, four were inconclusive, and the rest were strictly with Thorin.

He sighed softly, trying to focus on the aching of his rump in the saddle to distract him from the troubling thoughts that plagued him. What if, when he was done teaching them, they threw him away like everyone else?

The thought was scary. Bilbo had been teetering on the edge of despair when the dwarves came to his doorstep. To be shown acceptance only to be thrown away after may throw him into insanity. He was sure that if Fíli and Kíli weren’t so adamant in changing everyone’s tune toward him, the hostilities between him and the rest would reach beyond repair quickly. 

Everyone owed them thanks and Bilbo had a way to thank them without having to say it. He knew it was something he should say but pride would not allow it yet. A few hours into their journey, Bilbo had settled in to listen to the boys banter back and forth and Thorin had eventually moved closer to the front so everyone felt a little more at ease. Bilbo had decided what he wanted to do.

He listened to them talk, occasionally using him as a tie breaker for their conversations or to ask questions about being a Wildborn, until the company decided it was time to set up camp for the night.

“Alright,” Bilbo said as they dismounted their ponies. They were far enough away from the rest that they could have a private conversation, or at least that is what he thought. “You two want to learn what I know, I’ll teach you,” even if he had thought to do that in the first place, the fact they had been asking him so many questions sealed his fate anyway. Fíli and Kíli’s face lit up at Bilbo’s statement but Bilbo held up a hand “but you have seriously got to do something about your leader.” he stated, feeling the burning hole in the back of his head and the growing tension of a full day of straight glaring. It was going to give Bilbo indigestion if it kept going. “He won’t let us get anywhere as is.”

“On it!” the boys said in unison, finishing up unsaddling their ponies before leaving Bilbo to do the same with his. Of course, they hadn’t even brushed their poor ponies so Bilbo took it upon himself to do it in their stead. Looking around to make sure he was alone he let out a sigh.

“This trip is horrible and it’s only day two.” he told his pony—was her name Myrtle? — who nickered in response as Bilbo brushed a bundle of dry tall grass across her back as a makeshift brush. “If they were going to be like this, what was the point of bringing me along?” he continued, pausing to glance back toward the group and at Gandalf who was talking with Thorin again and lighting up his pipe. He felt he already knew why but scrunched his face “Even if I ask, he wouldn’t tell the truth…” he murmured and before Bilbo could turn back to continue brushing, his arm was being nudged. 

Myrtle was impatient to keep getting brushed because she was pushing at his arm to keep going. “I know where your priorities are. Would be nice if I knew everyone else’s.” he huffed out a laugh as he continued to brush before moving on to the next pony to Myrtle’s great displeasure. 

She tried to steal back his attention several times before he finished the brushing and she gave up with an annoyed snort. It was around that time he realized the mood had shifted. He had been so distracted and amused that he didn’t realize that most of the dwarves didn’t avoid looking at him and Thorin wasn’t glaring. Whatever Fíli and Kíli said had made the atmosphere somewhat amicable. They were still not quite on speaking terms but at the very least Bilbo didn’t feel like strangling them all in their sleep, so that was an improvement. 

The boys bounded back to where Bilbo was setting up his own little camp a bit ways away from the rest. Kíli quickly took him by the shoulders while Fíli grabbed his bag and bedroll and led him closer. Bilbo could have fought harder against it, but he let them lead him to the corner of the camp and set up his place again. All the while the hobbit was staring at them suspiciously. “You don’t have to go that far. My teachings aren’t conditional.” Bilbo stated blatantly. 

Both boys had a different reaction to that statement. Kíli fidgeted, seemingly wanting to say something but instead putting on a smile and reaching out to wrap Bilbo in a hug that he struggled in. Fíli’s lips were simply pressed into a line for the longest time, eyes staring at Bilbo and wondering so many things before he joined his brother. “Think of it as thanks,” he said, pulling Kíli off to give Bilbo much needed air. 

“Yeah, alright. Do you want your lesson now or later?” Bilbo asked, straightening out his clothes and perhaps hiding a spark of joy. When was he last time someone hugged him?

“Now!” both chimed happily. While Fíli and Bilbo searched for a suitable spot away from camp, Kíli called that he would be just a second and ran to his pack. Though he looked like he was searching for something, his true intention was to have one last word with Ori who was nearby. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come? I can try to convince Dori—”

Ori blinked a few times and almost looked at Kíli before going back to his notebook. “No, it’s fine. Dori would never agree anyway,” he murmured, his pen moving in his hands but no words being written. 

Kíli nodded as he grabbed a piece of jerky he kept in his bag as a snack and jogged off to catch up to his new mentor and his brother. Little did Kíli and Ori know that their conversation was not private. They had tried, but nothing was a secret when Nori was within the vicinity. Besides, Nori knew that Ori was just as curious to learn as the other two young dwarrow. 

As Kíli scampered off, Nori took his place by Ori’s side. His younger brother flinched and pressed his lips into a thin line, not unlike a child hiding something they did wrong. “You want to learn how the halfling controls his wolf?” Nori asked, fully aware of the answer. Ori looked up at his brother and almost glanced at where Kíli had gone before lowering his head to his journal. 

“I don’t think this curse works how we think it does.” Ori explained simply. “I’ve never found books on it either, and we don’t really talk to anyone else with the curse—”

“I’ll stop you there before you lose yourself,” Nori said, clapping Ori on the back. When he had Ori’s full attention, he gestured for the young dwarrow to go off where Kíli did and stood up to satisfy his duty of being an absolute menace to…someone. 

And be a menace he did, causing a ruckus so that his younger brother could slip away unnoticed by Dori. They would probably get at least an hour’s worth before Dori got suspicious. 

Well, at least Nori was having fun as well.

But what exactly did the young dwarrows say to the group that changed their minds?

Chapter Text

Bilbo ended up with one more student than he had expected. He had noticed the young one observing him like he held all the answers but seemed too nervous to approach or was shepherded away by the one that clung to him. The fact he was there was a shock, he half expected to turn and see his caretaker glaring at him from the trees. “Alright, what do you know about your wolves?” Bilbo asked and when he was met with silence he looked between each of them, who in turn looked between each other in confusion.

“They…exist?” Kíli shrugged and for the first time Bilbo was spoken to directly from the third young Dwarf. 

“Once a month we are overtaken by it and our senses become more sensitive.” the third dwarf stated almost as a question and Bilbo nodded. Now he was starting to feel guilty about the name situation.

“Yes, that is something…do you only change once a month?” he asked and the three nodded. “Oh dear…” he muttered and tried to think where he should start. Where did he start? When he was just a pup, what did his mother teach him? “Alright, answer this instead. What do you think about your wolf?”

“It’s a curse.” 

“It’s evil and forces our bodies to change.”

“It doesn’t feel like… me.”

Bilbo was stunned. He had gotten the impression they were not fond of being Wildborn but this was a different level of hatred and fear. Though, some part of him wondered how much of this was them believing it and how much was their caretakers who sat around the fire giving him glares and strange looks. Did they hate him more because he was at peace with his wolf and they weren’t?

“What makes it a curse?” Bilbo asked, now realizing that they were about to have a long conversation and sat himself at the base of a tree. “If you are cursed with the wolf then am I also cursed?”

Fíli seemed a little taken back by his question but decided to sit down as well which was followed by the other two. Kíli seemed to deflate at this but kept his eyes trained on Bilbo. “Our curse came upon our blood at the call of Smaug. If that does not define a curse, I am not sure what does.” Fíli explained. “It’s…probably the only difference between us and everyone else.”

“Yes, that is a shame. My family has held the wolf’s blood for thousands of years. In fact, they say that Yavanna herself had blessed our bloodlines so that we may keep the peace and protect the Shire.” He paused, wishing he had brought his pipe. He took a deep breath. “Smaug did not create Werebeasts, Wildkin, Beastkin, Wildborn—it’s called a thousand names but it is older than Smaug.” he spoke low, “Nothing short of the Valar themselves could warp the Wildborn blood—”

“Wargs?”

“Wargs.” Bilbo confirmed, those twisted beings crafted by cruelty were an example of the blessing being turned into a true curse. “The Wildborn blood is both in the body and mind. It is an extension of ourselves and is shaped by our perceptions as much as it shapes our bodies.”

“Why does it make me feel strange, then? Like I’m not in control…”

“Because the wolf is driven by instincts and connection as much as the owl is driven by insight and perception or the fox to wit and charm. Many have trouble controlling their impulses, making them feel more out of control in their wild form. In the Shire, fauntlings spend a week at a time in wolf form to learn how to gain control over their emotions.” Bilbo explained, and the three dwarves gawked at that fact. If this wasn’t such a serious conversation, Bilbo may have found it amusing, however it was a serious conversation and he needed them to know that. 

Kíli was the first to look away, Bilbo could see that he was thinking. If he was lucky, it would be him formulating a new perspective of the wolf. The other two were rather quiet and the looks on their faces varied. Fíli’s face was hardset into a frown and his eyes were low while the other murmured to himself and seemed to be comparing perspectives. “In essence, it is an extension of our most primal selves, designed to protect us in most dire circumstances.”

“Ori, you’re going to take down notes, right?” Kíli asked and the third dwarf, Ori, answered with a nod.

Bilbo observed their reactions to the new information and Kíli was the first to ask what was on his mind. “You say it protects us but why do we have to shift? Why does it hurt? It forces its way out once a month and sometimes more…” Fíli gave him a look like he was crossing into dangerous territory and Kíli looked away. 

Bilbo froze. It hurts them? That was bad. That was very bad. That was absolute separation between them and their wolves. It was absolute denial of self. Bilbo shook his head to refocus but felt the tremor that ran through him.

He had his work cut out for him. He had to somehow convince all these dense dwarves to stop denying half of who they are. He cleared his throat, “It shouldn’t hurt nor should it force its way out. However, shifting only once in a month will definitely…definitely…it’s not good. The wolf, when denied, will force its way out at the height of influence when the moon is full.” Bilbo could hear his own voice wobble at the thought that once a month they felt the pain of transformation. After all, he had felt it too and he knew how hard it may be to convince them that the wolf was not the enemy. “Denying your wolf—your instincts—your…well, I can see how it would cause pain. I-I…well I...”

“Bilbo?” Ori’s hand pulled him back and he realized he was looking at his lap, his hands clenched tightly. After becoming so jaded, he was astounded to realize that he could still feel empathy for others. How could he not? He suppressed the wolf within him and felt its rage when it tore itself free. He had spent years wishing it would find a corner to die in but without it he could not survive. To deny it is to suffer the slowest death for which the wolf becomes your biggest enemy. It got worse after the fell winter passed. It was only with the support of his Took family members that he managed to make it to his majority. “Are you okay?” he asked, his hand steady on Bilbo’s arm.

“Yes. Yes, I am fine. The fact is is… is that Smaug cannot curse someone to be a Wildborn. It’s more…” he almost laughed, as he realized the whole misconception the dwarves were under. “It’s more disguising a blessing as a curse, really–and it doesn’t–no, it doesn’t—well sometimes,” Ori gave his arm a squeeze and Bilbo stopped talking to look at them and see the worried expression on his face. He needed to get a hold of himself. This was ridiculous, it had been so long since he experienced it, but the thought of others going through that agony was…well, it was agony. Bilbo may not like them much and trust between them was nonexistent, the pups excluded, but none of them deserved that pain.

“So the origin of our…of the wolves… it doesn’t matter that Smaug is the one that afflicted us?” Fíli asked quietly. One of his few additions to this conversation. Bilbo regained his composure, giving Ori a pat as the lad let go of him.

“It does not. It simply exists and can be bestowed. Wildborn blood is a powerful magic but never a curse. Not unless you believe it is. As I said, it is both physical and—” Bilbo was cut off when he heard approaching footsteps. He was almost thankful for it as the flood of unpleasant memories washed through his mind like a torrent battering him against a rock. “I guess that’s the end.” he murmured as he stood up and patted down his clothes to get the dirt off him “I suppose it’s time for bed. We have a lot of traveling to do tomorrow.” he explained, as if he needed any excuse to escape the blue eyes that always seemed to follow him. 

With Bilbo fleeing to the safety of his bedroll, the three young dwarrow were left to face Thorin. The nephews had settled the tension a bit by assuring Thorin of their evaluation of Bilbo. None of what they said was a lie and it had been enough to stop the glares but not the prejudice. Of course, if Bilbo could properly read Thorin’s intentions, he would have known that he was simply curious about what they were doing and came to check. Alas, that was not the case and he had sent the halfling running off. Or at least that was Kíli’s assessment. Fíli may have also come to the same conclusion but he had been distracted.

Ori had seen it. Ori had seen the haunted and pained expression that crossed over Bilbo’s face when Kíli explained their predicament and had definitely taken mental notes on it. The conversation after that had been more flustered babbling compared to the calm structure they started with. Bilbo had simply wanted some excuse to run away and Thorin provided it.

There were still obvious reservations in Thorin’s mind, even if the two had agreed to pull back immediately if something strange happened. He witnessed his grandfather become more wolf than dwarrow and his father after that. They had died as animals rather than the regal rulers they were. However, there was nothing he could do in the face of their curiosity and desire to learn, if he didn’t give his blessing and monitor them they would do it without his knowledge. He couldn’t stop them. Not without crossing lines he was not willing to cross. So he had relented and opted to keep a very close eye on them.

“How did it go?” he asked awkwardly, making Kíli snort as the three young dwarrow stood and returned to camp with their leader. 

“It was a lot of talking,” Kíli shrugged but the distracted response was answer enough.

“I am…” Fíli started but stopped himself with a sigh, “Overwhelmed.” 

Somehow that did not seem to be what he had wanted to say, but Thorin could see that all three of them were tired and had a lot to think about after talking with the hobbit. He left it at that. “Get some rest, we head out early tomorrow,” he stated and guided them to their rolls, situated close to his own. 

Bilbo was already tucked into his roll, which had been moved further away from the rest of the camp, but not as far as it had been before.

The next week and some were similar and quite boring. They rode from morning until dusk, set up camp, the three young dwarrow would go do whatever they were doing with Bilbo and then would come back and sleep only to pack up their gear and do it again. Thorin noticed that they wore smiles more often when they came back to camp and whispered excitedly among one another even while they rode along the road. He was tempted to ask the Ris what the youngest Ri was writing in his journal, however they were not close enough for him to do so.

None of them said much about what they were doing, most likely from fear that the others of the group would put an end to the training. The fact they trusted the others so little on this topic spoke volumes to Thorin and he didn’t like what it said. 

Not even Ori divulged much of what they were learning. Though, Dori looked a hair trigger away from stopping him with only Nori willing to help the poor lad out. Nori, though having disappeared a few times, did not say anything on the matter. Having a good pair of eyes on the boys was still comforting and he had no doubt Nori would say something if it was bad.

The question still burned in most of the company’s minds. What in the world was that hobbit doing?

This was not what they thought was going on. For one, Thorin thought they did a lot of talking. Apparently not. Especially after watching the small hobbit scale a massive tree twice as fast as he thought possible for a well rounded halfling. 

“Remember what we talked about Kíli.” Bilbo said as he leaned over on a high branch of a tree, waiting for Kíli to follow. “As a bowman, you must be able to move with stealth and agility, don’t you agree?” he asked, almost taunting the young dwarrow as he flaunted his balance on his thin perch. Though the overall question everyone had was what did a wolf have to do with balance?

Kíli growled, “Talking about it and actually doing it are very different things.” he called back.

“You won’t get the hang of it if you don’t practice. It’s only your fifth tree.” Kíli scoffed.

“Fourth!”

“No, he’s right, this will be the fifth tree you run into.” Ori said absentmindedly as he read something through in his journal. 

“Traitor.” Kíli whispered as he took a few deep breaths. The company watched on in curiosity as the young dwarrow took a test run at the tree before stopping and going back to the start. 

“Getting bored up here,” Bilbo fake yawned as Kíli pressed his lips into a thin line and looked up to where the hobbit was now lounging. He seemed to make up his mind in the face of the taunting.

Thorin knew Kíli could scale a wall a few steps to get over taller walls–though was not nearly as good at it as Nori demonstrated— but what they saw was beyond anything he had done before. “Call the wolf!” Bilbo yelled as Kíli ran at the neighboring tree. He took a running jump and ran up the tree nearly double his usual height before launching himself off of it and to Bilbo’s tree with surprising strength. 

He latched onto a branch just below Bilbo’s and hung there for a second as if stunned by his own actions before he climbed up and sat down on it. “Wow…” Kíli muttered as Bilbo jumped down a branch to be closer. 

“That’s just the beginning. Soon enough you will be able to master the second acquire.” he smiled as the young dwarf’s unbridled joy showed on his face. “Alright, your uncle said that he needed someone to scout, so let’s scout.” Bilbo interrupted before he could do something so foolish as to pack-bond with someone in a pack that did not accept him. 

He was absolutely certain that he should keep to himself. It was alright to feel like they were friends now, but he was still unwelcome in the pack. He wasn’t sure that would ever change, either. Instead of thinking about such morose things as the looming empty life he has always lived, he turned and started to climb further up the tree. They had chosen the largest one so they could peer above the rest and this was a good time to help Kíli figure out how to use the wolf’s eyes. Usually, it wouldn’t be much better than their own in the daylight, but he had stalled until nightfall. 

They disappeared into the darkness of the canopy, until Kíli halted, unable to keep going without the proper ability. “You know how you borrowed the wolf’s strength a bit ago? Remember how that felt?” he asked and Kíli let out a noise of agreement. “Now you have to imagine borrowing their eyes. The wolf is yours to command, its abilities an extension of yourself.” Bilbo explained, his own eyes reflecting the light of the campfire below, even as dim as that light was.

The concept seemed harder than the previous one. Dwarves naturally had an affinity for strength but perception was another beast. Bilbo had been the opposite in that sight came easy for him but strength had been hard to master. “You want to see danger before it even thinks of getting close. What do you think will happen if you can’t see them before they see you?” Bilbo asked quietly and could see Kíli stiffen on his branch. “Focus on that desire. You want to protect them by seeing danger first.” It wasn’t like he could taunt Kíli into learning this one. 

Bilbo almost smiled as he saw Kíli’s eyes start to dimly reflect the moon’s light as he looked up at him. “Good job,” he muttered as they turned back to the task at hand. Now that Kíli could see, he was climbing faster than Bilbo as if they were in a race to the top. Bilbo almost complied before a scent caught his nose. A foul scent that made him want to gag. “Kíli, what do you see?” he asked as he searched around from where he was for any kind of movement. The wind was moving in from the north but…no wait, there was a light. 

In the distance, not as far as Bilbo would have liked, there were two lights, one large and one smaller and almost hidden by the trees. He looked up to where Kíli was and he was looking in the same direction. “Something’s coming…” 

The smaller light was steadily moving toward their camp, but the issue was they would not be able to get an accurate number of enemies from so far away. Kíli was still training his eyes and Bilbo was getting a lot of interference from foliage and startled critters. “Go warn the others!” he called and used his superior balance to jump from tree to tree in the direction of the light and stench. 

He heard Kíli call for him but did not look back as he moved quickly and quietly. He could hear Kíli clambering to get down from the tree from the rustling of branches but kept his eyes forward. 

That was until he came upon what he was looking for. There was a pack of orcs, fifteen strong. He had only encountered about three at a time back in the Shire and sparsely at that. They were probably smarter than any wolf he had faced and more plentiful than the groups of Sharkey's men that tried to break through the Shire’s borders.

He had to do something. Would he go back and report what he saw? Does he stay and try to prove that he is more than a nuisance? More than a burglar like Gandalf had claimed he was. He wanted to but this was more than he had ever fought at once and it made him nervous, no it made him downright scared.

But some part of him fought against it. His wolf definitely fought against it. Of the Baggins’ clan he was the most knowledgeable. Of the Tooks, he was the most adept in fighting. He worked himself to the bone to be the best to prove that he was worth something. He was a guardian. A guardian ! What did any of that mean if he couldn’t hold his own against an enemy?

Bilbo let out a low growl as he recalled the glares that the dwarves aimed at him and all the heads that turned away from him because of his looks. They should be thanking him, they should be celebrating his name as the best guardian the Shire had since Bandobras Took! He was a perfect mix of what they hailed as a blessing in both clans! Just because he was ugly to look at didn’t mean he wasn’t strong and worthy of respect! 

…

Perhaps Bilbo got too worked up. Before he knew it, he had descended upon the orcs. He had come in from behind them like a squall. Calling upon his wolf, claws grew in place of nails and his legs thickened with muscle, digging into the ground as he landed upon it with barely a noise. He did not transform fully, keeping his small form but taking on the modified aspects of his wolf.

The speed at which he attacked left the orcs in a swirl of panic. Bilbo had a clear hit and run tactic, he came in and took two out, backed out and let them swirl around before jumping back in from a different angle and taking out another two. The issue came when he came back in to take out the fifth and sixth. 

Two of the orcs were wargs. 

Their shift looked painful and was accommodated by the cracking of bones that made Bilbo flinch as he aimed to kill the wargs before it could fully shift. He had downed three more orcs with sacrifice. One of the orcs had grazed his arm with their blade and another had gotten an arrow into his shoulder. Now it was two wargs and five orcs against one Wildborn hobbit. He had really acted too brashly in his anger and desire to prove himself to people who would probably not care whether he proved his strength or not. Who was to say this would impress them? They would probably just accuse him of being a liability. 

He couldn’t blame them. He felt like a liability.

Hiding in the bush on one side of the trail, he pulled the rotten orc arrow from his shoulder, blood decorating the fur that had grown along his arms and shoulders. He let out a shaky breath as he looked out to the trail to see the two orcs had transformed into wargs. Orcs had mounted the wargs as well, meaning Bilbo was in trouble. The only option he had was to fully transform and use his superior agility to his advantage, also close the size gap that had been created. 

So that was what he did. He backtracked, running up a tree for height before launching himself off and transforming mid-air. It was so fluid and clean that one would have trouble believing that it was real. This time, he came down and took out four of the orcs from above before darting back through the foliage on the other side. He wanted to get another ambush in, but the wargs had followed him into the bush.

It was a good thing that Bilbo was lighter and thinner than the bulky wargs that barked at him. They were loud and the Orc’s vile language was spat at him in an attempt to distract him. He paid no attention to it as he took a sharp turn, causing one of the wargs to slam into a tree. In their moment of stunned stumbling, Bilbo charged in to take out the rider. It was an easy kill, his teeth sunk in and its disgusting rotten blood seeped out. The issue was, before the Orc’s dying breath, their spear stabbed into his side causing Bilbo to violently rip away causing its throat to shred under razor-sharp fangs.

Bilbo swayed as he tried to get the spear unlodged from his side, thin whines mixed in with the deep growl of the wargs. His eyes caught the movement of the second warg and damn if Bilbo hadn’t tried to get out of the way but with a sharp object in his side he simply couldn’t move fast enough. A hard head rammed into his side. 

On the one hand, the spear was now gone.

The bad side was that something definitely snapped as he was flung and smashed against one of the thick trees. Pinecones came raining down on Bilbo as he collapsed into the grass, his blood painting a horrid picture around him. 

“Bilbo, my boy, sit with me.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No.” His father took out his handkerchief and gently rubbed off the dirt from his son’s face. It was a long time before Bungo spoke again. “Why are you getting into fights?” he asked calmly and when Bilbo didn’t speak and just looked away, he sighed. “Bilbo, you are strong, perhaps above all the others in your class….” his father swallowed the obvious truth of the situation that Bilbo was learning all too early. “I know you feel like you need to, but remember that strength is not all about inflicting harm. You are not only a Took but a Baggins. Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is ask for help.” he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead. “You know we worry about you but we don’t know everything that happens when you are so far from home.”

“We love you Bilbo. You just need to ask.”

Jaws came at him and the best he could do was avoid letting them snap down on his neck. He yelped as teeth tried to tear into his back. He couldn’t see the other warg. He wildly whipped around to snap at the warg’s face but managed to catch the orc rider instead. The crunch was audible as he caught the arm and head of the orc rider and bit down hard. The issue was, two wargs, mostly uninjured, battling one little, injured, hobbit Wildborn.

His wolf was starting to take over. 

His emotions were running rampant. Adrenaline and fear vibrated through his veins unbridled. His mind was starting to go under and if that happened he wasn’t sure what he would wake up to. He was losing blood and he needed to act. 

The second warg! He could see it in the corner of his eye, stalking closer.

He needed to ask.

Taking the deepest breath he could as he darted around trees even with his right leg hurting unimaginably bad, he let loose a piercing howl. 

He really hoped those dense dwarves could follow it. He was sure that Fíli could at the very least. He had a strong sense of direction.

“As a Baggins, you would do well to learn that your voice and written word may be the only weapon you need to get all these grumbling hobbits to listen.” Bungo laughed as Bilbo looked up at him with a sense of awe. His father did not need claws or fangs to get people to listen. He simply spoke and commanded compliance. He wasn’t sure it would work the same way for him, but he could hope.

It was too bad he was far from the Shire and farther from anyone who would listen to his words over his bite.

Chapter Text

Thorin and the company sat around their campfire as Kíli and Bilbo climbed the tree to scout the surroundings. “At least the halfling is teaching them good skills.” Nori stated as he gestured to how fluidly Kíli was climbing.

“How is that even possible? He didn’t transform.” Frerin murmured, looking at Fíli in question. 

“Bilbo says that ‘borrows’ is how Wildborn are different from skin changers—Hey, don’t look at me. I’ve only practiced my hearing and reflexes.” he said as his uncles looked at him like he could give them an up close demonstration. He tensed when he spared a glance toward Dwalin who was giving him that look. He wanted to spar and find out about how good his reflexes were now. He looked back at his uncles, one of which raised his hands to show that he was not going to help and the other pretending there was something interesting in the fire.

“Let’s spar, lad.” Dwalin grunted as he took hold of his weapons. Fíli morosely nodded and took out his swords. Meanwhile the others got comfortable around the campfire that Bombur made to wait for the two to descend the tree.

“You know…the young ones speak highly of the halfling but…” Frerin tilted his head trying to find the right words. He took a breath. “I just want to make sure we can trust him, that’s all.”

“Gandalf claimed Bilbo was a reliable friend.” Thorin stated, recalling the wizard's words the night they first spoke about the quest.

“You said it yourself, the young ones think highly of him.” Glóin nodded. “Perhaps we should give him a break. Just like any pebble he may need a chance to prove himself.”

“I’m not sure. He’s got the look of someone whose rage has built sturdy blades in their heart. Someone like that could snap at any time.” Frerin stated and his word was taken for what it was. If Thorin was the mind, Frerin was the heart. He was the empathetic one that could see even the thinnest lines of emotion on his sister’s face. He may be more goofy and disarming than Thorin, but he had his skill of reading people. To someone like him, Bilbo was an open book. 

“Shun him? Is that the plan?” Dwalin grunted as he broke away from his spar with Fíli to join the rather serious discussion. While his explanation was non-existent the issue was clear. Who’s to say they were not responsible for what he was expressing?

“We know almost nothing about him.” Dori huffed in, his expression and tone serious. “Who’s to say he was not like this before.”

“Do we know how he was living before?” Fíli asked as he leaned against his sword. “He’s been teaching us for almost two weeks and he has hardly said a word about himself. It has to be for a reason and we…” he paused, but the implication was there. None of them had attempted to know him . 

Kíli, Fíli, and Ori had tried at the very least but Fíli was guilty as well. He liked Bilbo but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he was closed off. Bilbo had drawn a very clear line for them to not cross and he was unsure of how to even approach it. It didn’t stop Fíli from caring and wanting to know but fear of driving the other away had kept him behind that line.

“Ya know, they say a home says a lot about someone.” Bofur said in a light tone as he poked at the fire while Bifur pulled out wood cutting tools. “I did some explorin’ around his house. It’s bigger than you think and most of it hasn’t seen a good cleanin’ in a while.” he turned to face the others, his smile not reaching his eyes. “It’s as cold as the forges of Moria.” The sentence caused the company to go silent while Bofur snagged a tool from the set his older cousin pulled out and grabbed his previous project from his pack. 

While he talked animatedly with Bifur, the rest of the company sat with what he said. Perhaps Bofur knew exactly what he had done and decided to ignore it as he cheerfully bounced his leg to the beat of a song in his head.

As cold as the forges of Moria.

Bilbo’s home was large compared to those they had passed and it was at the top overlooking the rest of the town.

A collective chill ran down the spines of the dwarves as Fíli and Ori turned to look toward the tree. Coincidentally, at the same moment that Kíli came stumbling down the tree only to just barely land on his feet at the bottom. 

“Kíli,” Frerin called out as he stood up, the others followed suit as they saw the panicked look on Kíli’s face.

“We saw movement and light in the forest to the north of us. Bilbo ran ahead to check.” he breathed as he grabbed his bow and quiver. 

Half of them quickly grabbed what they needed and the other half hung back to hold down their camp with an uneasy tension rippling through them. Dwalin, Fíli, Kíli, Thorin, and Bifur were the ones that set out to the north. Of course, Kíli just knew the vague direction. They had to stop a few times for Kíli to climb and ensure they were going the right direction, at least until everyone heard a howl.

The howl was desperate and asking for help, how Fíli knew that, he wasn’t sure. What he did know was that his newly trained senses knew exactly where it was coming from and who. Bilbo was in distress. He almost cursed as he realized that the hobbit had probably engaged the enemy. “This way!” he yelled as he led the charge, his sword drawn. 

The first thing they came across was eleven orc corpses that already had them asking questions but Fíli bypassed them to break through the underbrush to one side of the thin trail. Now he could clearly smell blood mixed with Bilbo’s distinct scent.

It wasn’t too far later that they came across a warg standing above the beautiful long haired wolf he had met weeks ago. Bilbo was thrashing like a wild animal and snapping but unable to bend enough to catch the warg where it was positioned. “Bilbo!” Fíli yelled as the warg turned its attention to them. 

Fíli didn’t join the fight.

His heart was beating too fast, his hearing was too sharp, his eyes were narrowed in on Bilbo, and his regrets were eating at him. Bilbo was covered in blood and it was definitely his own. The feeling that washed over him was not foreign, but it only happened once a month and it flooded him with fear that he desperately tried to fight off.

One day you will be able to change at will too. Not today, but soon enough. Bilbo had stated a few days ago.

Don’t fight it. Fíli thought as he tried to even his breathing. It’s not a curse. He assured himself as he felt his muscles strain. He was scared. He really was and the sound of the others fighting wasn’t helping him. He got down closer to the ground, worried he would fall over as he started to shift. His eyes were locked onto the warg, fearful it would aim for him if it realized he was in the middle of a shift. It’s not a curse, it’s a blessing. It’s just another side of me. He continued to tell himself and two weeks should not have been enough to convince a lifetime of thinking otherwise.

However, maybe some deep part of him never wanted to think it was a curse. Maybe that was why he was so eager to believe Bilbo when he said the wolf was another him. A part of him that wanted to protect him and connect with those around him.

For the first time, Fíli transformed with no pain. Pressure and strain, yes, but not pain. There was no snapping of bones or tearing of muscle. As his body transformed and fur covered his exposed skin, it felt like he was seeing his wolf for the first time. Like he could feel the grateful yips and howls of his wolf being freed from within him. He was also sure his wolf form was… bigger than it had been last full moon. Now was not the time to figure that out, though. He could ponder that later.

He let out a powerful howl that had everyone turning their attention. Fíli was larger than the warg. A few inches in height but sturdier for absolute certainty. It made the warg look stubby.  The others got out of the way quickly as Fíli charged and very quickly put down the warg. It was almost anticlimactic how weak the warg felt. He was told how fearsome wargs were to fight, so this felt…wrong in a sense. Another thing to ponder or perhaps he would ask Dwalin and Thorin about that. After the warg’s pulse stopped, shifted back into an orc.

Another growl had Fíli turning back to the other situation. Bilbo had been able to get up and was poised ready to strike anyone who got close. There was something very wrong. Fíli took a step forward and Bilbo’s eyes locked onto him with no recognition. He glanced toward the others, finding them all looking at Bilbo stupefied…right, this was the first time they saw the hobbit in his wolf form. They were just as in awe as he had been. 

He couldn’t blame them. Beautiful long golden fur that glittered in the moonlight and with a clearer view— not marred by distraction of different topics— Fíli realized that Bilbo had an undercoat of silver. So that’s where the silver sheen came from. Gold and Silver, what a unique combination. 

Of course, that beautiful fur was marred by blood and clear injuries as he favored a leg. There was no chance to truly admire his beauty for his green eyes glowed dangerously and his lips curled back to show his fangs. Another growl and a warning bark had Fíli taking a step back.

He was in a wild state.

He had seen it once with his uncle Frerin. At the time the only one that he would let approach him was his mother. For the most part, none of them really knew what it was that led to this wild state of being aside from extreme stress. However, Bilbo had shed light on the situation almost at the start of his teachings. 

“Wildborns like us live in both worlds. All animals fight for survival. When their survival is threatened…even a rabbit will find the will to fight. Us, on the other hand, have hesitations. We think before we act in many cases—” Bilbo paused and looked over at the young dwarrow. “Uh…think of it as a last stand. The wolf takes over and does not hesitate in a fight to live.”

One wrong move and Bilbo would very likely attack them. It wasn’t like they had had Bilbo feel accepted in the group. Fíli’s ears flattened, what the hell were they supposed to do? Who was the one that Bilbo trusted the most? Bilbo gave another warning bark. It was such a sharp sound that simply didn’t feel like Bilbo. 

What he did next was the result of brilliant thinking. Thinking back to the first time he met Bilbo. He stepped forward with his head down as he resorted to the same technique he had that night. He got low to the and let out whines and small yips as he crawled forward much like he had when he pissed off Thorin when he was younger.

He could only imagine what the others were thinking as he did this but what mattered most was that they needed Bilbo to stand down. Thankfully, what had worked once worked again but instead of speaking or simply standing down, Bilbo carefully closed the distance with a heavy limp and almost collapsed onto him. Fíli could call this a win and was about to when Bilbo shocked him. He started to groom and nuzzle him much like his own mother would.

Bilbo had placed down a very distinct line between himself and everyone else.

Today that line was crossed by Bilbo himself. 

Fíli, though shocked, let Bilbo do as he pleased while he tried to get an idea of how wounded the hobbit was. All Fíli could figure was they were bad because his fur was matted along his side and clearly something was messed up in his leg. Looking back to the others, their faces showed exactly what they were thinking. What in the world did I just see?

He yipped at them to try and snap them from their stupor. He would have simply barked had he not been worried it would startle Bilbo who was still content to try and clean the orc blood from his fur—even as he made faces from its disgustingness. If it wasn’t a dire situation, Fíli  may have been amused.

Kíli was the next to approach and Bilbo didn’t seem to mind while Fíli was there to appease any tension. Fíli needed someone to speak for him and Kíli seemed to be the only one that picked up on that. “Bilbo, we need you to turn back.” he said in a soft tone making Bilbo turn to him. There seemed to be little recognition in Bilbo’s eyes that set the two young dwarrow on edge still, but when he leaned forward to sniff at him there was no defensive nip or any kind of aggression. He hooked a paw around Kíli and pulled him in and once again started to groom— even when Kíli was not in wolf form. 

It was now very obvious how Bilbo saw them. As it turns out, on a normal day, Bilbo was very good at hiding how he felt. Neither Kíli or Fíli wanted to look back at Thorin. They weren’t sure what other Wildborn wolves were like or what common actions meant. Everything from letting them close while he was in his wild state to grooming…he had basically announced that he claimed them as his own pups. His instincts reaffirmed that this was an affectionate gesture.

Maybe Thorin wouldn’t hold it against him? Half of Bilbo was dormant hopefully that meant it was only a half effective gesture. However, it was effective enough. Given the circumstances, that would all have to wait.

“Bilbo, please turn back, we need to check your wounds.” Kíli struggled to get out of Bilbo’s grasp, pushing away his snout to avoid another lather of slobber. Bilbo didn’t seem to hear as he took Kíli’s actions for that of a struggling child. Fíli nudged Bilbo’s shoulder, trying to get his attention which the older wolf let out a sharp yelp followed by a growl that Fíli appeased by wagging his tail and gently licking at his fur. Note taken, it wasn’t just his leg that was messed up but all the way to his shoulder.

Thankfully, this seemed to get some kind of recognition as Kíli escaped Bilbo’s paws. Bilbo leaned closer as if he was going back to grooming Fíli but instead he shifted back. His shift was elegant, like watching all the fur evaporate into moonlight. Lying against Fíli’s fur was simply Bilbo. 

Fíli almost had to look away. Laying in the dense fur of his side was Bilbo and damn where his wounds were vicious looking. Kíli, after shaking himself off, pulled his cloak off and covered Bilbo with it. He was about to carry Bilbo when Thorin stepped forward and took it upon himself to carry him. His face was hard set into a scowl and neither of the boys really wanted to let him take the fragile form of the hobbit, not that they didn’t trust him, but they knew that Bilbo would not appreciate it. 

Though, it wasn’t like Kíli could do it, he was covered in saliva and much too distracted with that and Dwalin would not put down his weapons until they were back at camp. Bifur…wasn’t a bad option but as Thorin set off, it was simply too late to bring that up. Fíli was clearly out of the question as Bilbo was a little too fragile for that.

They passed by the corpses laying in the small clearing and Bilbo’s scent was all over the scene, mingling with the scent of iron and rotten orc. “He got thirteen of them by himself…” Kíli stated 

“Fourteen. There was a second warg in the bushes.” Dwalin grumbled, gesturing back where they had been. There was something in the slow nod of his head as he deliberated the scene and looked at the hobbit that made it known that he was impressed. Thorin couldn’t see it because he walked ahead with Bifur, looking in a hurry to get back to camp.

“Strong—for a halfling— I’ll give him that.” Dwalin grumbled as they left behind the brutal scene.

“Wasn’t aware they knew how to fight.” Thorin’s hard tone cut in and it was a valid assumption. They had all entered the same town and seen it for what it was. They were gardeners and bakers, gossipers and parents. They were people of comforts and their land was safe. 

However, what if that was not it? What if a simple walk through or superficial business was not enough to truly see how the Shire functioned as it was? Once again, it was a failure on everyone’s part and simple assumptions that led them to where they were. The assumption that Bilbo was just like the rest of them and sought the comforts of his plush chair. The assumption that he would be a burden or die off quickly on the quest and thus not worth getting to know. The assumption he was as prissy and stuck up like the elves were because he had stated once that being Wildborn was considered a blessing among shirefolk.

Oh how wrong they all felt now that they had seen that he could carry himself quite well. 

Kíli jumped up and climbed up Fíli’s shoulder to lay down. “How did you shift on your own? Bilbo never taught us to do that.” he stated but obviously Fíli couldn’t answer so he simply grunted. “You’ll have to tell me when you shift back.” Fíli felt his heart stutter as he realized he wasn’t entirely sure how to do that. He didn’t realize he stopped walking until Kíli slid down and walked to his front. “What’s wrong? Wait…you know how to turn back, right?” he asked and when Fíli shook his head both of them may have started to panic. 

They looked ahead of them to where the others were walking unbothered. They hadn’t heard of Fíli’s plight and they were definitely not going to hear. At least, both boys hoped they wouldn’t. Bilbo had to wake up quickly so he could help Fíli turn back. “We say nothing. Just…play it cool.” Kíli said as they jogged to catch up.

The group was a little bit more than surprised when they came back with a bloodied hobbit.

While the group raised questions about the situation, Óin wasted no time getting to work. Oh, it did not look good. On his left side, just above his hip there was a nasty gash that extended around to his back. Aside from that there were teeth marks along his back where the wargs had undoubtedly got him, a puncture in his shoulder, and scratches from fighting the wargs.

Óin was forced to grab his needle and stitch the wounds. They were simply too grave to leave them to heal on their own. “By Mahal’s beard, what happened out there?” Glóin asked above the murmurs of the others.

“Orcs. Fifteen corpses.” Bifur said gruffly.

“The halfling—”

“Bilbo defeated all of them alone…except one. A warg.”  Kíli explained as a small whimper drew everyone's attention toward the hobbit. Fíli’s tail drooped as he circled Óin and Bilbo at a safe distance– too close and Óin might smack him.

Thorin looked contemplative and stressed. Was this because of Bilbo’s display of acceptance? It was shocking how they learned what Bilbo really thought of them with how he acted on a daily basis. He avoided talking to them while they traveled and kept a tight lid on anything vaguely resembling happiness. He had praised them a few times in their training but Fíli had never seen him smile genuinely since they met. Superficial at most, maybe habitual.

Then Dwalin came crashing into the conversation with the subject they desperately didn’t want to talk about. “We found Bilbo in a Wild state .” That was plenty enough for everyone to draw conclusions. Thorin was the one that carried him back.

Again, if the situation was not so tense, Fíli would have found amusement in the skeptical and confused looks that were thrown around camp as they all looked to Thorin, whose face was in his hands. When he noticed the talking had stopped, he looked up and shook his head.

“It wasn’t me.” he gestured to Fíli and Kíli. Fíli chanced a look at Ori who looked conflicted to say the least. He wasn’t sure if it was because he also wanted Bilbo to trust him that much or if it was because he was confused because Bilbo never showed any sign of being close to them in the weeks they spent together. Fíli wanted to explain himself but he was in his wolf form.

“He let you close?” Glóin asked and Fíli glanced at Kíli as he paced, straying a bit too close to Óin’s work space and getting a swift smack to his nose. 

The silence was deafening and it was Frerin who had the guts to break it. “We were lucky that Bilbo trusted them enough to get close, otherwise we would have had a bigger problem. Which of you would have wanted to tell Tharkûn we lost his reliable friend?” the golden prince asked and there was a shuffling of hands and murmur of excuses. Thankfully, someone changed the uncomfortable subject to a far worse one.

“I guess we know what Bilbo was teachin’ them out there.” Nori stated and suddenly the attention turned to Fíli. To the side, Kíli also stiffened as the topic they wanted to avoid came up. No, it’s fine, as long as they don’t ask—

“But why is Fíli still a wolf?” 

Why did they have to ask the one question that would expose that he had no idea what he was doing!?

“Because!” Kíli spoke up a little too loud “Because…the moon is still in the sky and…and…” As Kíli fumbled for an excuse, his face suddenly hardened into a serious look like he remembered something. “There were two sets of lights… Bilbo only got one of them.”

“A scouting party—”

Kíli took off back toward the tree, scaling it much faster than he had before. What he had said was distressing. If there was a second party of orcs coming their way, they needed to know about it. The fact he had forgotten about it, while not surprising, was also distressing. 

Óin let out a sigh as he packed things up. Bilbo was now more bandages than hobbit and smelled heavily of medicinal herbs. “I’ve done what I can. It’s a good thing Beastkin heal fast.” the old dwarrow said as he checked his stock of medicines while Fíli sniffed a bit closer to Bilbo.

“Fíli.” Thorin’s voice broke his gaze from the hobbit to look at his uncle. “Did you get bigger?” he asked and Fíli realized maybe he hadn’t imagined the growth of his wolf. 

Kíli came down from the tree, far more gracefully than the first time. “We’ve gotta go.” he said seriously as he walked to Thorin and began to explain the situation he saw. Fíli was proud of his brother’s growing proficiency with his observation. The issue was he saw five lights coming their way. Five sources of danger they were better off avoiding. 

Fíli barked as he looked between Bilbo and his brother. His brother nodded and barely ten minutes later, Kíli and Bilbo were on his back and the camp was almost put back the way it was when they arrived, save for the ashes and coals of their fire. 

“Move out!” Thorin commanded and everyone moved east. Fíli’s ears trained on the distant sounds of movement in the now deadly silent night.

Chapter Text

When did things go so wrong?

Kíli would say it was when someone slipped and took everyone on a brief tumble down a slope at the worst possible time. That was the only reason the orcs looked in their direction.

Fíli would have said it was when the wargs showed up to sniff out their scent trail. If it had not been for the wargs following them to begin with they wouldn’t have been close enough to see or hear them all tumble. Though, as he was, he could not voice his opinion on the matter.

Thorin would say it was when the hobbit decided to try and take out a whole scouting party by himself. If he had not decimated a group they wouldn’t have sent more out looking for them.

Ori had interrupted that discussion with a rather aggressive ‘shut up and move faster’ that neither Fíli nor Kíli had expected and a glance at the brothers Ri said they hadn’t expected that out of their timid brother, either. 

Of course, the truth of the matter was that it all went wrong the moment trolls were brought into the situation at hand. In hindsight, they had been so focused on what was behind them that they hadn’t heard the thumping of feet until those feet were far too close.

“Trolls!” someone yelled out, but Fíli was too occupied to hear much else. He had Bilbo, injured and unconscious, and Kíli on his back. Aside from that, there were wargs with orc riders still trailing behind them, close enough that he could hear their vile tongue ringing in his ears. 

The trolls seemed equally confused as everyone danced around one another from the dwarrow splitting up to avoid getting stomped on by giant feet to the orcs attacking anything that vaguely moved from their own allies to the troll legs stomping about. Fíli wasn’t among those dancing about. He was too big of a target to follow the lead of the others and Kíli’s arrows only worked well in killing the orc riders as the warg’s thick hide protected the worse of the threats.

He still loosed arrows as Fíli was forced to leave the other dwarrow behind, four wargs on his tail. It hurt to do that, too. Half of his belongings were with Kíli while the other half was being carried by Thorin. Meaning, when he changed back—eventually— he was going to be down to just two weapons. Not that it mattered much now as he bounded along on four paws.

What really mattered was getting Kíli and Bilbo to a safe place so he could take care of the wargs. He couldn’t go running all night and he wasn’t about to test whether or not he could outlast these nasty things. He barked to get Kíli’s attention but what the hell was he going to do to get his point across?

Damn it! He wished they had gotten around to practicing shifting and with it talking while shifting. How did Bilbo do it? Think! List it all out, every detail just like Ori would.

First: Bilbo’s mouth never moved when he spoke. At the time, Fíli had better things to think about but he definitely saw that his jaw never moved. He figured it was one of many mysteries to solve later.

Second: He had felt a kind of prodding— not physical. It was like something prodding at his mind before he heard Bilbo speak. 

Ah, he had an idea. To top off his list, he added a third note to mention:

Everything they had practiced took focus for Fíli to understand. Focus on your hearing. Focus on your sense of smell.

Now he would focus on Kíli the best he could while running and avoiding trees. He tried once with no result. That made him nervous, what if he had got it all wrong? No, try again, there wasn’t time and Kíli was running out of arrows with three wargs still behind him, one severely wounded but pushing through the pain to try and catch them.

He put all his determination behind trying to speak. If they couldn’t communicate properly things could go catastrophically wrong. An image flashed in his head of just how wrong it could go. Bilbo was unconscious, one second alone and a warg could crush him. Kíli was a lone dwarf with his brother’s swords at his side. While Kíli could fight just as well as he, he would try to protect Bilbo. Worst of all was if they got in the way by accident and Fíli was the one to do harm.

“Kíli!” It came through with a rush. To explain how it felt to talk as a wolf would be nearly impossible for words could not describe the feeling nor the relief. It was like finally being able to break through a door he had been banging against for ages—though that may just describe the relief when his brother responded. 

“What?! What?” Kíli yelled as he nearly dropped his last arrow. He opened his mouth to say something else but Fíli cut him off.

“I need …. get Bilbo …. Tree……way!” Okay, so he had some time to go until he mastered the art of talking but it was still better than not speaking at all. He could definitely feel the connection opening and closing as he split his focus between the wargs and communicating with Kíli, much like a rock blocking a small stream of water only letting a little pass.

Kíli took a moment to decipher Fíli’s words before fastening his bow and unfastening the unconscious hobbit. When his brother was ready, Fíli gave them the best chance he could by jumping at a tree and letting Kíli do the rest. 

He was so glad that Kíli had been practicing his coordination and strength because even with that help, they had barely made it to the lowest branch. Thankfully, the wargs only cared for the largest of the targets and there were only two left. 

With one arrow in his brother’s quiver, Fíli knew he was on his own. Which was fine, as he rather Kíli protect Bilbo with that arrow than help him. He wasn’t so inept in fighting as a wolf that he couldn’t handle himself against two of these beasts when one had fallen so easily to him just hours ago.

Fighting two was a lot harder than he thought. He was sure the only reason he won was because orcs and wargs were really bad at coordinating attacks. In the end, when the last warg fell, Fíli had an injured hind leg from one of them trying to take him off his feet. It hurt like hell but he would have to push through that.

He focused on communicating again, this time with his full concentration. “Kíli.” he spoke, the gentle flow of whatever that feeling was connecting with his brother in the tree who was cradling Bilbo in a way that left one arm open for his sword. 

He smiled when he saw that Fíli was mostly unharmed aside from a few scratches and his hind leg. “You are getting too far ahead of us,” Kíli teased, trying to ease the tension that had been coiled tight around them. 

Fíli huffed a laugh, his tail swaying as he came to stand under the tree. “It’s not easy, brother.”  he said but talking when he could spare his whole mind to the task was a lot easier. 

“The shifting or the talking?” he responded, carefully taking Bilbo into his arms as he jumped down onto Fíli’s back.

“Being this perfect.” Fíli responded hopefully with his usual humorous tone as he sniffed around in the air to try and locate the other dwarves. They had run for a while and that in itself was alarming. That meant they could be miles from their group and he wasn’t sure where to start in joining back up with them. 

Kíli snorted as Fíli took them away from the corpses before lowering himself to let them off. Kíli was diligent as the first thing he started to check was Bilbo’s wounds. Fíli turned to sniff around for a possible trail. He could smell the metallic stink of blood and rot, how much of the blood was Bilbo’s or his own was lost on him as he was concerned about something else. The best idea he could come up with is to retrace their steps, which would likely bring them into danger, to find the trail the others left…but that wasn’t a smart idea. 

He padded his way over to the other two. Kíli was finishing up refastening Bilbo’s bandages. He looked up as Fíli laid down around them. “Well, Bilbo heals up better than uncle. Tore a stitch but his wounds are closed enough that I removed the rest.” Fíli nodded. “Get some rest, I’ll keep watch.” Kíli brought Bilbo a bit closer to him and gave his brother a pat on the snout. 

Fíli couldn’t argue even if he was concerned to leave his brother alone after the night they had. He let out a soft whine as Kíli moved off to sit on a rock. Staying awake would prove futile, they both knew it. While healing, they always got more tired than usual. Kíli especially knew after he broke a wrist and slept so deeply they all damn near thought he had gone to the halls. He wrapped himself around Bilbo and closed his eyes, trying his best to rest for his brother’s sake.

Kíli remained awake while his exhausted brother slept and kept their wounded hobbit warm and safe. They had only put him in pants to keep his wounds accessible, but pants did not do much against the night’s chill. Kíli looked back at the two before standing up and carefully making his way back down the path. At some point the bag he was hanging onto dropped and they would need it sooner or later, especially the bed roll. As Kíli wandered the path, his brother’s sword at his side— he wasn’t even sure where his own was— he took a shaky breath.

There had been more than one reason he offered to stay on watch despite his own exhaustion. It was the shaking and the racing of his heart. The adrenaline wreaked havoc through his body and mind as the events of the night replayed in his head like a broken record. The snapping of jaws at Fíli’s hind legs, the screech of each warg as he shot it down, the fear that those noises would bring more, and the crushing silence of knowing that it was just the three of them. 

Fíli had gotten his hind leg wounded, thankfully nothing more than a flesh wound, but terrifying nonetheless. A few inches to the side and it would have been worse. As for Bilbo, Bilbo had been injured from the start and all the running and movement could done him in. He saw the look Oin gave the wounds and stitches were never good things to have let alone snap. 

They were lucky that being wolves had improved their healing capabilities and that it also applied to Bilbo. Then they had been separated from the rest of the company, their pack was gone and their wolves were a week away. Kíli snagged the abandoned pack which had tumbled halfway into some bushes and headed back. He fished out the sleeping roll and tucked it under Bilbo as best he could without waking his brother and returned to his rock seat to wait out the waning night.

They really needed to get the rest of the company behind learning about the wolves. This would have gone much better if more of them knew how to shift on command. Kíli looked to the sky and observed the shape of the moon. He had never looked forward to the shift, though being a wolf had never been all that bad. He just hoped that Bilbo could help him transform without pain, it would be nice if the rest of the company would listen as well. He sighed, that was a bit of a long shot still, but he could hope. “Awooo…” he murmured with a slight laugh to try and offset his unease. 

“Bilbo…” Who was talking? “Bilbo…” he shifted onto his side, pressing himself further into soft furs. “Bilbo!” his eyes opened slowly to look at a steady fire. He groaned as he turned to flop onto his back and look up at who was talking. “Bilbo, you promised you would play elves with me today!” where was he? His eyes drifted around to take in his surroundings. It was his home. There was bright light coming in through the window, the soft carpet before the fireplace, the toys scattered around. Why would he be anywhere but home? 

He heard an irritated huff over him and he was reminded that Brilla was standing over him waiting for an answer, a displeased scowl pasted onto her face. He wanted to tell her he wanted to but he was so tired that he found no words to say. “You can’t go play elves anyway, Brilla. It’s too cold outside.” Another voice said, it was obviously his brother Bingo. 

Bilbo lazily blinked as Brilla puffed out her cheeks. “It’s not too cold yet! Besides, nothing stops the elves as they hunt down the evil orcs.” she looked satisfied until Bingo snorted.

“Will they help you if your toes freeze?” Bingo snorted when Brilla hesitated to answer.

“My toes won’t freeze! See!” She lifted her skirt to show her feet which were covered in hair. “It’s thicker than last year!” She huffed. “Besides, we can just change into our wolves and those got lots of fur.”

“Alright, then what about Ma and Da? If you go outside while they are away, you will get in big trouble.” Bingo explained and Brilla paused, pressing her lips into a tight line as she thought about it. Bilbo watched with vague annoyance mixed with fondness before turning over to let them continue arguing, his eyes gazing into the fire. 

He must have been there for a long time because when he turned over again, his mother was there and there was no light coming in from the window. Brilla and Bingo were nowhere to be seen and the toys had been picked up. He was wrapped up in a big fur blanket that restricted his movement a bit.

His mother was humming a song and coming her fingers through his hair. “Oh, Bilbo.” she said softly amidst the popping of firewood. “You have so much on your shoulders, I know.” she continued talking even as the humming continued without her. Her beautiful green eyes gazing down at him with a soft smile. “You were given burdens a young one should never hold and sorrows no heart should bear alone.” She paused, leaning down to plant a kiss to his forehead. “If you will not try for happiness for your own sake… won’t you try for us?” she asked but Bilbo was so tired, he just wanted to sleep. 

“Bilbo…” he wanted to close his eyes in front of his cozy fire and wrapped in his soft blanket. “Bilbo.” Yes, sleep. Right here where his family could be heard snoring from their beds and his mother humming her song for him.

“Bilbo!” 

Bilbo startled awake with his heart doing nothing short of backflips in his chest. He looked around and found only Kíli sitting on a rock a few paces away and…a wolf. Bilbo almost jumped to his feet had he not remembered where he knew this wolf from. Large and with shaggy gold fur filled with braids. This was Fíli— though he seemed larger than Bilbo remembered but that may just be because he hadn’t seen his wolf form for nearly a month. 

It was the early hours of morning with just a faint line of light on the horizon to mark the time as Bilbo stood up with a resulting wince as a jolt ran through his side. Oh, right. The night all came flooding back and suddenly he was hoping he hadn’t been out days but rather hours. He examined himself as he stepped from his warm den of fur. There was a good bit of bandages wrapped around his middle, and he could feel patches on his back, but it was hard to assess what the damage was. However, it was a good indicator that no more than two days had passed. By then all these bandages would be pointless.

“Kíli,” Bilbo called out softly as he walked to where the young dwarf sat. The young one startled at the sound of his name being called and whipped around. 

“Bilbo!” he whispered loudly, not sure if he could call it a whisper but it was close enough. 

“Hush, boy.” Bilbo gestured to the sleeping Fíli even when he felt that the other dwarrow could sleep through the loud whisper easily. 

“Are you sure you don’t need more rest? You were hurt bad.” Kíli carried on, half ignoring Bilbo’s concern for his brother. 

Bilbo couldn’t deny that. From what he remembered, he was banged up enough to go primal, though most of the fight after he shifted was now coated in a haze. “Wolves heal faster than most Wildborn.” The only other wildborns that healed faster would be the owls. “Mind helping me check?” he asked and Kíli did just that. They unbandaged him to check on all the wounds. The patches on his back were now unnecessary as the tooth marks were closed, though still visible. The one to his side, though…that one was best kept wrapped even if the stitches were no longer necessary to keep him together. It was a nasty one that would definitely leave a scar.

After Kíli managed to fasten the bandages once again, he immediately brought Bilbo into an embrace. The hobbit tensed under the feeling of the hug and Kíli couldn’t say he understood why Bilbo was so set on separating himself— at least from himself and Fíli who he had shown absolute acceptance for just short of a pack bond. “You could have died…Bilbo.” Kíli murmured. “You went off and fought without us and it could have killed you.” he reiterated as if Bilbo hadn’t heard the first time.

“Kíli—” Bilbo tried to peel the boy off of him, but he locked his arms, making the hobbit sigh. “Kíli, please.” Bilbo tried to escape the boy’s grasp again which resulted in an childlike whine.

“I understand that we all got off on the wrong foot. Uncle and the others may deserve cold treatment but…why us?” he asked softly and Bilbo hesitated to answer “You even—” he paused and whatever he was going to say was dropped. Bilbo couldn’t muster words enough to ask nor did he really want to. How could someone explain such complicated feelings as those that Bilbo held? How could he so readily admit that he was terrified? 

Terrified that if he loved and lost again, he would wholly and truly become a monster. That his grief would change him, cause his mind to go dormant so it may never be hurt again. That was one lesson he was avoiding.

Bilbo’s eyes scanned around, he had noticed they were alone in this clearing with not so much as a fire to sit near. Still, he did so and somehow thought he would catch an intense blue gaze on him. Of course, the only thing that greeted him was empty darkness and an eerie silence in the early morning. He looked back to Kíli who’s grip had loosened under the long silence. 

“Kíli.” Bilbo finally spoke, giving in to give the pup a light gripped hug. “You need to rest.” he said softly, trying to stall this conversation for later. The boy was distressed enough already, and not from the conversation at hand, and Bilbo was simply not ready. “Please.”

Kíli let out a soft sigh and nodded, letting go of Bilbo to go lay down with his brother. He was glad that the boy didn’t put up more of a fight, there could be many reasons for that but he wouldn’t ask now. He would count his blessings that the boy was compliant and contemplate what he was going to do next. 

He didn’t want to think about the conversation that Kíli started, it already sat on Bilbo’s shoulders like an ominous bird, so he turned his attention to their situation. They were alone. It was just Fíli, Kíli, and himself. Using his keen sense of smell revealed that they had been alone in this area with nothing larger than a deer intruding upon it. But why? He would need to ask that question when the boys were awake.

A breeze blew along the trees, bringing a chill up Bilbo’s spine. He knew why he was half naked, but it didn’t change the fact he wished he had a shirt on. Looking back at the boys, he spotted one backpack and it definitely wasn’t his own. Even the rising sun could do nothing to stave off the chill. He took off his pants, folding them and placing them off to the side before he shifted into his wolf form. It stung. Bilbo grit his teeth to keep quiet when he shifted, because the wound to his side stung and felt stretched by the shift.

He stilled and waited for the pain to ease before starting to move again. Now, Bilbo had not just decided to be in his wolf form for the sake of being warm. In his wolf form, all his senses were stronger than they could be as a hobbit and he was searching for any signs of the other dwarves. He made sure not to wander far, but he wandered far enough to know that orcs had traveled through the area hours ago, their rotten scent faded. He also found the corpses of wargs riddled with arrows and gashed with claws. 

Even if they wanted to find the others, backtracking was not an option if orcs were roaming this place. He could imagine orcs may have been the reason they were separated to begin with. With a huff, he paced back to where the boys were sleeping, the sun was now lighting up the sky in brilliant pinks. Kíli was well sheltered from the bright light by his brother’s body and Fíli was still laying as he had been when Bilbo started sniffing around. The issue was that he was clearly awake as his ears flicked at every noise and head scanning the trees. Funny enough he was looking everywhere but where Bilbo was.

Bilbo strode closer as loudly as he could, causing Fíli’s head to turn quickly in alarm only to relax when he realized who it was. “Bilbo,” Fíli called out, almost startling the hobbit. Was it the fact that Fíli’s voice carried with it relief or the fact he could talk at all was beyond him. He just hoped that the golden pup didn’t have the same question for him as his younger brother.

“I see you figured out the thought projection.” Bilbo stated and tried with all his might to keep his tail from swaying as he found himself so very proud of the golden pup regardless of his apprehension about getting too close to them. He always did show more emotion as a wolf and his tail could not be stilled as he came to stand nearby. “If you wish to stand, I doubt Kíli will notice.” he stated as the pup looked at his flank and stretched out his hind legs before he carefully stood up. 

“He sleeps like a rock most days.” Fíli huffed as he stretched and immediately sought Bilbo’s side, nuzzling where his wound was. Bilbo was about to push him away when time caught up to him. His stomach let out a loud grumble. It was about time given he had not eaten dinner the night before. He could sense Fíli’s amusement as the pup pulled back. “I’ll hunt something down so we all don’t starve.” the pup mused and Bilbo knew, without a pack or even a secondary wolf with him the best they would be eating would be rabbit. 

He looked between Kíli, who had just fallen asleep, and Fíli who was walking away into the forest. He couldn’t leave Kíli alone but he was deeply displeased. Part of him knew it was because Fíli was going to hunt alone and that did not sit well with him; another part of him knew it was his wolf simply wanting to hunt and hunt with another wolf. He shook those feelings away and headed toward the younger of the dwarves. 

He grunted as he laid down by Kíli, his head up and alert for any potential threats. He decided to think about how they would find the other dwarves. Perhaps they had a specific way to find one another when separated. Bilbo doubted they would wait perhaps one or two weeks for their wolves to be forced out. Though, he continued to think it would be easiest to track one another down as wolves.

Bilbo shuddered, scooting just a bit closer to Kíli as he was reminded of why he was definitely not looking forward to that — the shift. He hadn’t even gotten around to teaching Kíli and Ori how to shift and the rest of the dwarves, though less outwardly hostile, still ignored him for the most part. He had hoped, begrudgingly, that by showing them all the good his knowledge would do the young dwarves they would stop being so stubborn about calling their wolves a curse and giving him hateful looks when he tried to explain all the good things about being a Wildborn.

That’s worked out well. 

The best he can do with so little time and progress is teach Kíli to shift into his wolf while they try to find the rest of the group. If possible, he would also teach Ori before the full moon. However, there was no telling how long it would take for them to reconnect with the group if they could not backtrack. Good news was that he knew where Gandalf wanted them to go and if the accursed owl had his way, as he often did, then the dwarves would head to Rivendell. Bilbo just had to hope that the owl had found them at some point to guide them there. 

Looking about a bit more, Bilbo finally laid his head down to rest a bit and wait for Fíli to return. Of course, he simply couldn’t relax as he was. He had never had much issue keeping to himself before he met the dwarves and he had thought it would be easy to continue distancing himself, but his wolf was far more truthful than his hobbit. He let out a soft whine as he scooted closer to Kíli, wrapping himself loosely around the sleeping dwarf. Only when Bilbo was comfortably wrapped around him did he finally feel the anxious vibrations leave his system. 

Then a new anxiety was born. What would happen when his wolf met all the other wolves? When he met the more honest versions of all the dwarves. He inadvertently let out another soft whine of distress as he found his mind wandering to all the possible scenarios and unpleasant situations. Maybe he was being too loud because not long after, Kíli shifted over and Bilbo had thought he woke the dwarf up. 

He was wrong. 

Kíli merely moved closer and started to use Bilbo more as a pillow. The thought he had woken Kíli had been motivation enough to quiet down and think of more pleasant things. The first thought he had after the dwarf stopped moving was that he needed to get Kíli to learn how to shift so they could travel faster as well as deter the misfortune that would come within the next week or two. Getting it out of the way now would benefit them all. Next was orienting himself so he could get them going in the direction of the elves, as much as the dwarves may despise that. Lastly, he thought of Ori and how he felt sure that the young dwarf would figure out shifting on his own just like Fíli had. 

After Fíli got back and Kíli got a bit of sleep, everything would unfold. There was no reason to get anxious yet.

Chapter Text

The pack hung from Fíli’s mouth as he and Bilbo watched Kíli try and transform according to the instructions both of them explained. It was… comical could be one way to explain it, another would be worrisome. The pup bounced around, closed his eyes tight, and even tried to jump into a transformation from a tree. However, all attempts failed. In Kíli’s mind, he wondered if he just wasn’t understanding the concept right. It had sounded so similar to borrowing which he was getting very good at, but modifying his entire self was a lot to try and focus on. Did he have to focus on every part of him to do this? Or was he missing something?

The whole first day was mostly Kíli hitching a ride on Fíli’s back, getting advice from Bilbo, and trying his best to transform whenever they stopped. The only issue was that the longer he tried to transform with no success, the more his irritation and temper started to grow.

"Kíli, you may be thinking a little too hard about t his. ” Fíli said as Kíli rolled across the ground at another failed attempt and remained prone on the ground. In petty irritation at yet another failed attempt, Kíli remained silent and simply looked into the sky. When he did not respond, Bilbo walked over, using his muzzle to push the youngest up. The dwarfling almost laid himself over Bilbo’s nose and used him to stand.

“I don’t understand how I can borrow but not shift.” He muttered almost pathetically as he crawled up to lay over Bilbo’s back and continue sulking. 

“You are having a mental block .” Bilbo explained as they continued on their path toward Rivendell, Bilbo had explained their whole path and travel. Of all he explained, the only thing Kíli remembered was it would take three days. “ All faunts go through it at some point.” The hobbit said as he vaulted over a crevice, Fíli followed after a moment later as they continued jogging toward their destination.

“What block? I really want to learn how to shift? I know how to borrow senses, I even tried the last strategy that helped me learn how to borrow!” Kíli explained in his frustration, his voice growing louder until Bilbo bumped him off and he landed in a pile on the ground.

“ You tell me. What is stopping you from a full transformation? Why do you decidedly not want to accept the wolf?” The golden wolf asked, his sleek form circling around the young dwarf as Fíli stepped back to watch. Bilbo sighed as he saw Kíli’s expression shift. He had thought the younger of the two was having an easier time accepting his Shire teachings but it was more of a facade than acceptance. Something was still there to block his willing transformation. “ Let’s try a partial shift. Usually it's harder than simply shifting, but perhaps that is the best we can hope for. ”

After another bout of instruction, Kíli tried and tried and tried. In the end, he was able to transform his legs to the point he did not need to, and couldn’t, wear boots but beyond that he was too dejected to try anything else. 

As Kíli stared down at his pawed feet, his boots sitting next to him, he thought back to the rest of the company. He knew full well what was holding him back. He knew that Fíli took freedoms where and when he could so it was no wonder he could get a hang of it all so easily, and logically he was the brother who had the most freedom since Fíli was the heir. However, and somehow, Kíli felt if he embraced it too much— strayed too far— he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to his family. Unlike his brother, he had no rope to pull him back. What if he embraced all of it, all the freedoms and desires, and found that his Uncles, his mother, had no desire to bring him back? What if he ended up like his grandfather and great grandfather? 

Thorin stared down the owl in front of him, staring with too smart of eyes. “That has got to be a Wildborn…” Ori murmured as the owl looked between them, stretched its wings and let out a great big…

“ HOO. ” 

Everyone stared the owl down again. It sounded…so fake. That was not any sound he had heard from an owl, then again Thorin had not seen a white owl before, nor one this big or with great big ear tufts. It had to be some owl he had never seen before, but with the young dwarrow learning so much from Bilbo about these ‘Wildborns’ among the world and all the different types, he was starting to have his doubts. He almost flinched when the Owl’s smart eyes landed on him. Yeah, not every creature you land upon is a Wildborn, what were the odds?

“ HOO. ”

Yeah, no, that was most definitely just someone saying ‘hoo’. Thorin’s mind was made up, there was no mistaking it. Its wings extended and the bird thing took off, startling the company. Thorin looked at the others who were all uncomfortable except Ori who was absolutely certain they encountered a Wildborn. Either way, they all heaved a sigh of relief as the thing flew up only to have it crash down on them and start grabbing them and pulling at them. 

“ HOO !”

That voice sounded vaguely familiar but none of them had time to think about it as they followed the owl lest it start to attack again. All of them bore the exhaustion of the night, trolls and orcs that had muddled together into a perfect recipe for their success. The orcs attacked the trolls just as readily as they attacked each other and dwarves. In the confusion half of the orcs were slain by the trolls, the trolls poisoned and driven away by those remaining and after that the rest were easy to dispatch. However, backtracking to find their lost dwarrow was not an option. The guilt sat heavy in his gut as the company marched forward, any attempt to change course but for where the owl was leading them was met with actual owl screeches rather than a voice. Thorin was afraid to test what the owl would do if they ignored the warning.

Now that he thought about it. Aside from the other three wolves, whose question of safety sat at the forefront of his mind, they were only missing one person from the group. This had to be Gandalf. However, there had been no mention of him also being a Wildborn.

Whatever was happening, they were moving forward without his nephews causing trouble or nearby and visibly safe… and the blasted owl would not hear a word he was saying when he said they needed to find them— and their burglar. The hobbit had been unconscious last he saw and a part of him regretted the thought that he had probably died in that attack, though it resulted from his own foolish actions. It still frustrated him. Just as the hobbit had proven he was capable, he had also most likely been killed. He trusted his nephews were alright, Fíli was a strong wolf and both were trained well by Dwalin and himself.

“Where is this blasted bird leading us?” Gloin  asked with pronounced irritation, as Ori fervently examined the map that Bilbo had lent him. Thorin only knew it had been Bilbo’s because he watched as the hobbit explained it to the young dwarrow and the path that Gandalf had planned for them to travel. Well, that had been the path before they were led off course in the orc pursuit. Eventually Ori explained that based on the landmarks on the map and their visibility, they were heading along a similar trajectory as before only on the other side of the trollshaws cutting a path toward Rivendell. 

Thorin had argued intensely about avoiding the elven city, but with his nephews missing he may need to ask for their aid in finding them, thus he accepted that they would most likely end up in Rivendell. 

Thorin’s mind wandered to his nephews for what felt like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. There had been wargs in that orc attack, but all disappeared the same time Kíli and Fíli had. He hoped that neither were hurt badly.

Kíli set to putting together a fire while Bilbo and Fíli hunted down some dinner. With just two wolves he wasn’t expecting anything grand but Bilbo had a way of surprising people so perhaps they would come back with something decently sized. Part of him hesitated as he tried to ignore the fact that he too wanted to be out there hunting with them. There was little doubt in his mind, having partial wolf legs on him, while probably helpful in some situations, was causing him untold irritation. He had gotten around to understanding how the partial transformation happened and how to replicate it, but it wasn’t what he wanted. So as soon as they stopped, he had shifted them back and put on his boots.

Curses! Why couldn’t he get over this irrational fear? It was so stupid! Why would his uncles— let alone his own mother— decide he isn’t needed around? Why wouldn’t they try to bring him back if things go too far? Yet, the thought wouldn’t go away no matter what he knew for absolute certain. His heart stuttered at the thought of it happening and stalled his progress. He was falling behind Fíli and could see his brother starting to worry about him. That made it all the worse. It seemingly reinforced all those feelings of inadequacy and worry. What a vicious cycle.

He hit the spark rocks a little too hard, one snapping in half to his shock. As it seemed, once you got used to it, it was very easy to unconsciously borrow from your wolf. He sighed as he looked at the broken spark rock. That wasn‘t going to make his journey any easier.

“We’re back!” Fíli called out as Kíli scrambled to hide the evidence of his childish tantrum. He set back to working on a fire, with a grin that felt so painfully fake, as he watched his brother trot into their clearing looking happy and chipper with Bilbo following after with a deer trapped in his maw. 

The deer was dropped beside their camp. Fíli licked at Bilbo’s snout, cleaning up some of the blood as the other grunted, seemingly in irritation but let him continue. Kíli felt…left out as the fire sparked to life. He also wanted to be closer with Bilbo, especially after finding out that the hobbit liked them enough he would practically adopt them. He was smart and there was little doubt in his mind that Bilbo was a good soul, he was also unafraid to stand his ground and was brave and fierce. 

“Kíli,” Bilbo’s voice cut through to him and he realized he was staring into the fire.

“You’ll figure it out—“ Fíli got closer, nuzzling Kíli. Bilbo barked in warning and Fíli’s sentence was cut off, the larger wolf backing up in confusion. In fact both of the young dwarrow were looking at him like that. Eyes wide as they were at the receiving end of Bilbo’s stern bark.

“ It’s been written all over your face for two days. What is bothering you?” Bilbo asked and Kíli looked at Fíli whose head was moving between them. He wasn’t hearing the conversation. 

Maybe this was his chance. “You first.” He stated, his face set into a hard, expectant look, standing his ground and crossing his arms. Bilbo’s ears flicked back as he looked away, toward the setting sun. Kíli felt that in itself announced his defeat, and turned to put some wood in the fire so they could proceed with the deer. 

“Being a wolven Wildborn has been a blessing to the Shire for as long as any of our memories can recall.” Bilbo started, not exactly wanting to divulge the sorrows of his life but knowing that they were at an impasse. Bilbo’s emotional nature begged him to bridge the rift that was starting to form between him and Kíli and some part of Bilbo simply could not let go of the relationship he had with the two pups. Fíli stepped forward, laying down to listen as he decided if he would tell one he might as well tell the other. If his story could also help Kíli with whatever was haunting him, he may think it was worth it. 

The two settled against one another as Bilbo started his story. “There are three Wildborn bloodlines in the Shire that keep the balance. The Brandybucks protect the borders, the Bagginses keep the peace, and the Tooks lead and protect.”

“So you’re a peace keeper?” Kíli asked as Fíli let out a grumble. 

“I may have the Baggins name but I am also a Took. As one with Took blood I was expected to train with their clan as they are the leading pack.” Bilbo explained patiently. “ In the Shire, none of the three bloodlines had ever mixed. At some point, the appearance of wolves took on an important role, the same as their role in the Shire. Brandybucks have thick brown fur that resists the waters of the river and have a thick hide that cannot easily be punctured. The Baggins are short haired golden wolves, orderly, clean, and soft furred but with fangs longer than the other clans. The Tooks are the great silver wolves that have long fur and are the biggest in the Shire. They are the biggest of the clans.” Bilbo paused to see if they were keeping up and it seemed they were, they both had a look of interest as they learned where Bilbo came from. Here came the sorrowful life of Bilbo Baggins. “ Unfortunately, I am what they call a mutt. My blood is mixed and I look neither like the Tooks nor Bagginses from which I descend. I can imagine more than a few hobbits have celebrated the fact I left the Shire. Even more probably hope I never come back.”  He said and watched as shock flew across their faces. It wasn’t the full story but this was hardly time to tell all the details. Fíli’s ears flipped back and Kíli looked upset.

“You wanted to know why I struggle- why I keep my distance.” He leveled a steady gaze to Kíli. “I have lived my life hated for being born. You dwarves have treated me horribly, but I have endured worse. But what is worse than giving myself false hope of belonging?” He asked, his ears flicking back as he felt a surge of panic. He has just come out and said it, almost without even wanting to have said it. He could have stopped but he didn’t. His heart started to beat faster and he let out a small whine in his distress that had Fíli standing and coming closer to comfort him. Even Kíli, in his small dwarven form, came to him and hugged him through his thick fur. It was funny to think that someone he usually had to look up at could be considered small to him but he was tall enough that was a reality. However, that would be different as the dwarven wolves were probably Fíli’s size or bigger. 

“Those hobbits are fools.”

“Those hobbits are fools!” Kíli and Fíli announced at the same time, even if Kíli could not hear his brother’s voice. “You belong with us now!” Kíli added on quickly, his voice muffled with fur which he pulled away to get out of his mouth. 

Bilbo let out a huff at their antics. Even with a language barrier, both were so in sync with one another. He put a paw on Fíli to get him to stop his comfort grooming as he nosed Kíli. “You know as well as I that Thorin will never accept me. Not truly.” He said softly and both pups were quiet as they wondered the same. Not only that but his role here  was as a burglar in this company. That alone had also caused a bit of friction between him and the company and resulted in a number of snide remarks when they thought he was too far away to hear. 

“He lets you teach us and that is a sign of trust.” Fíli offered, looking at Kíli and perhaps repeating what he had said. 

“Yeah, if he didn’t he wouldn’t let you near us…still.” He murmured remembering the first week they had travelled and everyone was adamant on keeping him isolated. “Uncle Thorin is complicated, he looks like he doesn’t care or is angry when he worries.”

“His face almost always looks angry,” Fíli added on to Bilbo’s amused huff. He wondered how often he had mistaken Thorin’s feelings due to that hard set scowl always on his face. 

“I still doubt his willingness to accept a hobbit into his pack.” Bilbo muttered as he poked Kíli with his nose. “Enough of that. Now, it’s your turn.” He prodded, staying true to the purpose of this conversation. That purpose was that Kíli was struggling with something.

Kíli flinched now that it was his turn to be brave and voice his worries. He looked between the wolves and then down at his boots, almost imagining he was still seeing paws. After having witnessed Bilbo trust them with knowing his story and his fears, he wanted to do the same. His voice just wouldn’t cooperate. After a few minutes in silence, Bilbo could see the young dwarf was struggling. Bilbo knew it was not so simple as not knowing the words but rather feeling not quite safe and comfortable speaking them. Bilbo laid down at Kíli's feet, lifting a paw as he rolled onto his side, almost waving for Fíli to do the same. Fíli followed Bilbo's lead and once Kíli joined he was practically on a bed of warm fur. Kíli had favored Bilbo's belly fur as he laid down as the streaks of silver was much softer than the golden.

With a feeling of warm safety enveloping him he found his voice and let out all that was bothering him. He spoke of his fears of family, of getting lost, of the wolf taking over. He spoke of his grandfather and great grandfather and the story of how they ended up more wolf than dwarf. All the while, his ears burned, unsure if it was shame or embarrassment, they were definitely red. He knew his fears were unfounded but they still plagued him. Maybe some part of him wanted these two to sympathize anyway, no matter how foolish he was being. What he was met with was just that. Warm acceptance and comfort.

His brother’s large paw pulled him close and a wet nose pushed into him. “I’ll always be right here.” Fíli said as Kíli hugged his snout. “Though,  our uncles would carve their way through mordor to get you. That doesn’t include mother. No evil force nor Smaug himself could keep you from her.” 

Kíli smiled at his brother explaining exactly what he knew was true but needed someone to tell him again to be sure. Of course, Bilbo was unable to hear. Fíli complained about how hard it was to talk to multiple people at once. “Thorin is fiercely protective of you. He is not one that would let you lose yourself. For what it's worth, it's not as easy to lose yourself to the wild as you may think.” Bilbo nuzzled into him and Kíli looked toward him in confusion. 

“What do you mean? Lose yourself to the wild?” Kíli asked and Bilbo understood immediately, they didn’t realize what had actually happened to their kin.

“What you described of your grandfather is what we call ‘losing yourself to the wild’. It’s a poetic description for when someone has lost the will to live and their Wildborn is all that survives of a person." Bilbo explained. He had always hated that saying. He felt it made light of the reality of the situation but he simply had no way else to describe it other than ‘fading’, which he couldn’t bring himself use. He looked toward Fíli and Kíli as they slowly nodded in understanding. They both seemed to think different things as Fíli’s ears flicked back in thought for a moment before he recovered and Kíli seemed to be more at ease. Bilbo could imagine Fíli was thinking of his family and the ones that told them stories of their grandfather, ingraining that fear into them. Bilbo could imagine it was their uncles, but after learning that the dwarrow knew practically nothing of their Wildborn selves, he could not hold it against them that they didn’t understand the situation.

Kíli let go of Fíli and pushed himself out of the pile of fur, a look of determination on his face. The wolves also stood to look on. What was going through his mind neither of the wolves knew, what they did know was that they had given him enough confidence to try transforming again. He tried once, cursed in Kuhzdul, tried again. Bilbo and Fíli were on edge when he tried a third time, ready to go comfort the youngest. 

Emerging from a third try, was a large brown wolf. Bilbo was right, all the dwarves would turn out bigger than he by quite a bit. He was sure they outsized the wargs as well.

Kíli let out loud barks as he hopped around their clearing, stretching and riding out the adrenaline born from excitement of his success. He even started a play fight with Fíli that Bilbo pointedly avoided lest he be flattened. Eventually, Kíli, covered in saliva from his play fight, was at Bilbo’s side. He was being far more gentle as he pounced on Bilbo and nipped at his ears. Well, there was no harm in humoring the pup for now, he had made a great accomplishment. 

Thus Bilbo joined the fun to the excitement of both the pups, and when they had all worn themselves out and were panting they made good use of the deer they had hunted. Bilbo was given first cut, but this still left plenty for Fíli and Kíli. 

With full bellies, they rested for a few hours before deciding to head out toward Rivendell deep in the night. 

Bilbo was sure, now that they all moved at a fast pace, they would arrive in Rivendell no later than noon of the new day. That would be on the third day they had been separated from the group. Now he needed to hope that Gandalf had the other dwarves and was herding them toward the same place. If not he would need to ask the elves for help reuniting with the rest of the company.

Two days of the unknown was agonizing and even Frerin’s jokes had dwindled off and the Urs had gravitated further from the main group without Bofur’s attempts to bring them together with stories and song. Ori had also been distant which led the Ris to do the same, not that Nori had to change much as he was always on the outside—by personal choice. Thorin wondered if Ori was thinking similarly to himself in that the young dwarrow believed the hobbit dead. He had caught them with the map in their hands more often than not. 

With no more than a week left until their wolves would tear free again, Thorin’s apprehension was reaching an all time peak. However, he had hope. Perhaps they could find Fíli and Kíli with the help of the wolves they spent their lives despising. It would be one good thing they could do with so much evil. 

“I don’t think the wolf is the one that's evil.” Bilbo had growled at him just a few days after he started to teach the young dwarrow about the nature of Wildborns. That had been a comment that quieted the camp and almost started a fight until Ori explained what Bilbo had taught them about what Bilbo believed the wolves represented. Or what they represented as in the Shire.

The soft little hobbit they had taken from the Shire was bold and had no problem putting his foot down. He had heard plenty of the hobbit’s teachings, if only in the form of eavesdropping when the young ones had kept their silence when asked. When Nori had been about to explain one of their lessons, Ori had floored him with the strongest glare he had ever seen from him since starting the journey— stronger than the lad had let on was possible based on his normal demeanor. Yes, Ori was just as close with the hobbit as his nephews and it looked as though he was steadily starting to mourn the loss. 

A screech ahead signalled that the owl wanted them to stop. That owl was starting to get on his nerves the longer they were forced to follow it. They had all but figured out it was Gandalf just short of the wizard talking to them. Once Frerin had gone and addressed him directly, Gandalf had relented the owl game and started to talk to them, having had his fun for a whole day and a half. “ We shall stay here tonight. We are two days from Imaldris.” Gandalf explained as he perched upon a branch above them. The company went about setting up a camp, exhausted and all feeling anxious as the moon neared its full state in the sky. As Gandalf had said, they would reach the elven city in another two days if they followed his path. 

He had even assured them that the hobbit would lead their lost dwarrow to the city as well. No one wanted to speak up about what happened in the wizard’s absence. No one wanted to tell him that the hobbit had been in dire condition before the troll encounter. 

Today, Bofur took cooking supper upon himself, giving Bombur time to rest with Bifur. Thorin could taste the drop in quality between their cooking. It made sense, Bofur was a miner and his brother’s craft was cuisine. Yet, when Thorin looked toward the large dwarrow, he could see he was tense and not in a state to prepare a meal. 

If he was not mistaken, he had a young family in Ered Luin. A young family with a pebble in his first year of transformations. Thorin could recall the first year Fíli had transformed. Each transformation had left him bedridden, chills shook his body and his lungs struggled with each breath. Kíli’s first year had been worse. The young ones suffered the most and a few succumbed to their ailment. That thought had plagued him each time he sat by their bed after transformations, watching them struggle to breathe and manage the pain. 

This would likely be the first transformation Bombur had without his family nearby and most importantly without his pebbles close to watch and know they were okay. He felt his sympathies extend toward him but kept his silence as they all ate. 

The owl remained watchful above them, and thankfully there were no alarming noises to let on that there were orcs after them.

The third day passed without incident, not that it did much of anything to ease the tension they were all feeling. However, Thorin would be proven wrong on the fourth day. 

Really, this all had to be the result of sabotage. It had to be. 

After the strange wizard came out from the forest on their fourth day headed toward Rivendell—spouting nonsense it should he said— and orcs had somehow found them again with reinforcements. He was sure the brown wizard was to blame for leading the orcs to them, for before they had heard no wargs. It didn’t matter much who he blamed. They were on the run again regardless, headed out into the open with the promise of a distraction from the crazed forest wizard. 

What a distraction that guy was. 

A few wargs had gone after him and he was chased too far away to be of help to the company when almost half the orcs and an orc rider had spotted them and came charging, whatever Gandalf had planned was derailed quickly as they were steered away from their rocky hiding place. Thorin and the company were ready to turn and fight whether or not Gandalf approved when a hunting horn met their ears. “ Get down!” Gandalf demanded and the dwarves hit the ground as fast as they could. 

Elves had come.

They came in the form he knew best but he assumed the falcons flying above and the massive cats bounding past them were also elves. He only really knew the forms that the Mirkwood elves took and they did not look like this. Those elves were foxes, stags, moose— he had even encountered a stoat as a dwarrowling. This was a different experience. They had obviously elven traits, the cats were lean despite their massive size and faster than he could ever be. The falcons had signature elven markings like finely crafted silver jewellery upon their white underbellies.

While the falcons above dived and confused the mass of orcs, the cats took them down from the ground. Several pouncing on the warg and taking it down in mere moments. The normal elves seemed to be rear support for the Wildborn elves. 

When the company was well behind the protection of the big cats, they rose to their feet, Thorin with a deep scowl at the fact he felt like a damsel being saved by elves of all people. The battle was over before the orcs even knew it had begun. Wargs had been overwhelmed and orcs confused by well aimed dives and even falling rocks. One of the big cats broke away from the attack and approached the group as the normal form elves worked to clean up the mess left behind at the massacre, setting fire to the corpses. 

This big cat was a deeper golden color with rosettes of grey, and faintly green, along their body. Along the head and back those rosettes elongated into almost vine-like decorations. This one had almost a circlet design around their head as well. Thorin opened his mouth before the white owl swooped down with an elegant hooting noise and landed upon his shoulder. 

He had half a mind to strangle the bird, however the realistic part of him knew it wouldn’t be that easy. “Greeting, Lord Elrond,” the owl bowed his head and the cat did the same.

“Greetings, Gandalf. I am glad to have followed all traces of orcs as it has indeed led me to you and your dwarven companions. When we were told of orcs so close to our borders, we were appalled.”Elrond explained as he turned to offer his back. The owl flew from Thorin’s shoulder to the cat’s back. 

“ Ah , yes , we may have drawn their attention by chance. We appreciate your aid and quick response.” Gandalf beamed as the cat’s eyes landed on Thorin and his company.

“We are glad to have found you. Your companions have been waiting and are quite worried for your safety.” Elrond explained before raising his head and letting out a roar, which seemed to have been an order of some kind as the elves with horses offered them to the dwarves. “ We should make haste for the safety of Imaldris.”He explained as the owl’s head turned toward Thorin. 

At the mention of companions, Thorin cared nothing for arguing about horses or accepting elven help. He mounted the horse and was ready to get on their way. Dwalin sat behind him as they all rode at breakneck speed toward the elven city. The falcons and owl flying high on watch, the cats leading the charge, and the dwarrow focused on one goal. Finding out which of their three missing companions was waiting. Would it be all three or just the two all of them were expecting? Falcon screeches signalled their arrival to the gates of the city and Thorin had never been more grateful to be in a dwelling of elves. He likely would never again be so grateful. 

After a whole four days without knowing where they were they had confirmation that at least two were waiting for them. However, Thorin had to wonder how they found the elves. Or had the elves found them? His answer came quickly and with more confusion. “We were shocked when they arrived at our gates and told us of the others they had been separated from. They had also been the ones to tell us of the orcs traveling closer to our borders.” The elven lord said as the gates opened and allowed the hunting party through. How would Fíli or Kíli find this place without a map or guide?

That answer, too, came swiftly as they were greeted with a sight almost none of the dwarrow had expected. 

“Bilbo!” Ori yelled as he stumbled off his horse, nearly knocking Dori off with him, and ran to greet the hobbit and the two missing young dwarrow. Forget the fact they were all dressed like elves, the hobbit had lived and now Thorin realized he had led his nephews to the safety of the elven city to reconnect with the company. 

He had underestimated the hobbit more than he realized.

Chapter Text

Bilbo could see it the moment the company noticed him. The pure shock that he was there. That single reaction elicited a vicious feeling in him, one that wanted to smack them all just as much as he wanted to give them a smug smirk. In the end, he stood back and watched as everyone clambered down from horses, to his amusement, and started the tearful reunion with their lost pups. Bilbo closed his eyes, waiting for Thorin’s stern voice, followed by his brother Ferin, thanking the Valar their nephews were safe.

“Bilbo!” Ori yelled, Bilbo’s eyes opening as his idea of what would happen went decidedly awry. He looked to his side just in time to get practically tackled by the young dwarrow, only for them to step back quickly. “Ah! Sorry! Are you still hurt?” He asked, patting Bilbo down everywhere he had a bandage— at least where they had been. When the boy started to try and pull off Bilbo’s shirt, the hobbit stilled their hands.

“I am a wolf, Ori, wolves heal fast.” He was reminded as his fears reared their ugly heads. The group was staring. Their eyes were on him with shock and… was that awe? 

Don’t delude yourself, Bilbo. They would never have that look for you. Bilbo thought to himself as his eyes found Thorin. The pack leader was making sure his nephews were alright, and, as they always did, they flicked toward him. Never had blue felt like the heat of a fire to him. The miraculous feats of dwarves.

Bilbo quickly appeased Ori before separating himself again. He had noticed the sad looks that Kíli and Fíli shot at him, but ignored them as he was more concerned with earning a pack leader’s scorn. That was something truly horrid for any lone wolf to evoke. Of course, the moment Thorin was done making sure the pups were alright, passing them off to the next uncle, Bilbo found himself under his full gaze. “You should have been dead, yet here you are walking among us. How did you survive, halfling?” Thorin’s deep voice rumbled, and every hair on Bilbo’s neck stood on end as the dwarves froze, seemingly also shocked.

Was this him wondering how a soft and cowardly hobbit hadn’t simply died at the first sign of trouble? Was this him hoping the Orcs had finished the job? Bilbo’s face must have looked as red as a tomato as he tried to exercise his Baggins restraint. 

It didn’t work.

In fact, Bilbo swore he heard a great big

SNAP

“Oh, please. Forgive me, your majesty, for being competent enough to survive. Would you like me to lie down and make it easier for Orcs to kill me the next we encounter them?” Bilbo snapped as he turned to leave. “While I’m at it, why don’t I act as a diversion? I’ll scream and run the other way so you have safe passage.” If words could bite, Bilbo’s would have the sharpest fangs— much like his wolf form. 

Thorin was baffled as he stared after Bilbo’s retreating form. Any sense of anger Thorin may have felt was dampened as his mind swirled with confusion. Thorin looked to Frerin and his nephews, who pointedly did not meet his gaze. He sighed, deeming this moment a bad time to address what happened, as there were many outsiders to witness—he didn’t need elves to see any disharmony among them. He would talk to Bilbo about that later.

When the elf lord and Gandalf returned, they were in their normal form and dressed. “I insist that you all rest here. I offer the full extent of our hospitality.” Lord Elrond gestured toward the company, and two elf servants came forward to escort the rest of the dwarves toward the area that had been set aside for them. It was complete with a few rooms surrounding a large courtyard. It all looked rather unused, but the company opened the doors to find enough beds for everyone. It was better than he could hope for and a much-needed comfort for the upcoming nights.

Gandalf joined them long enough to see where they were staying before stalking off with the elves to do whatever he deemed needed to be done. Thorin knew that they would be stuck here for at least three days, however much that pained him. He would have preferred to stay just one night for the reading of the map before moving on. However, with three young dwarrow who still struggled with the pain of transformations— not that it eased with age— he knew he could not force them from the safety of the elvish halls until after the night of their transformation had passed. 

So, upon arrival, the first thing the dwarves did, not including Fíli and Kíli, was bathe. They had found a rather massive room of waterfalls and pools that was obvious enough for cleaning, if not for the scented soaps that were left out. Young Ori was the first to disappear, but no one worried for a moment. All of them knew where he had run off to. Even Dori was at ease, knowing exactly where his youngest brother was– or he was depressed about the fact Ori left him so quickly for their hobbit burglar. 

Thorin had wandered the entirety of their temporary quarters and yet found no trace of the company burglar nor a young dwarrow. He had intended to talk with Bilbo in an attempt to find out what was wrong and warn him against public outbursts; however, that was hard when one could not find him.

They were only allowed a few hours of rest before dinner was announced and the company was whisked away to a dining room. To his surprise, the hobbit was already there with Ori and Kíli in tow. Fíli had found Thorin before dinner but refused to speak a word on where the hobbit and the other two had been. He was both proud and annoyed by his silence and loyalty.

Ori was listening intently as Kíli explained something, but it stopped the moment Thorin entered the room. He was getting tired of that. What was so secretive that his own nephews wouldn’t talk to him about it? Pushing that thought aside, Thorin chose a seat, and the others followed suit, Fíli to one side of him and Frerin on the other. He had selected a seat across from Bilbo, hoping that would make talking to him easier. He was wrong.

Bilbo avoided looking at him with an expertise that would rival the nobles he often had to meet with. It was both natural and so painfully obvious.

“Welcome, dwarves of Erebor. It is not often that one is a host to wolves. I find it a great honor to host you for your pack calling.” Elrond greeted with a knowing smile. His words shot bolts of nerves through the company as they settled in, even while his voice was gentle and genuine.

Thorin shot a look at the three company members who had been there before everyone else. Then his eyes rolled over to the last member and the one most likely to have told Elrond all about it. What really brought nerves upon them was the fact that they had been referenced with genuine praise for the very thing they hated. They were considered guests of honor for it.

“With the full moon a few short days away, Bilbo and I were talking about opening the lower forest for a pack hunt, as I know wolves are fond of them,” Elrond said, looking all too pleased about this information. That was something that piqued all their attention. Hunting grounds? On elven lands? They guarded those places jealously and, even in his youth, Thorin had only ever heard of the one in Mirkwood. Filled with beasts raised with love and care that made the most delicious meats in Middle-Earth. “[It has been a long time since dwarven wolf clans roamed the lands of Arda,]” Elrond spoke in the elven language, setting Thorin on edge just as it always did. He hated not knowing what they were talking about. “[I propose a good hunt. Bison? Moose? Perhaps–]” he stopped as Gloin banged on the table.

“Why do you speak in secret? Do you offer us insult?” he boomed, just on edge and untrusting as Thorin was— as they all were, save for Bilbo… who was eating marily despite the commotion. Before Elrond or Gandalf could calm the dwarves’ nerves, Bilbo laughed. Thorin had never heard Bilbo laugh, not even a genuine smile– that tense, polite smile did not count. He had been so shocked, he nearly missed when Bilbo had started talking.

“He is offering an exciting hunt in celebration of the pack calling. Bison, Moose, or Elk, I assume?” he looked to Elrond as the elf nodded, his eyes scanning across the dwarves.

Gloin was quick to retake his seat as all of them thought about what was being offered. So much accommodation– more than anyone had expected, had they been welcome at all. 

After the shock of the situation and the high accommodation for the wolves, Thorin found his voice. “We extend our greatest gratitude for your hospitality,” he said, glancing at Balin as he often did when he was unsure of a situation. “We would greatly appreciate the use of your hunting grounds for any creature you would allow us to hunt,” Thorin spoke slowly, which was met with a nod as elven servants bustled around the room, placing down delicate-looking meat dishes garnished with an obscene amount of green. 

Gandalf, thankfully, stole Elrond’s attention again with topics that Thorin had no concept over and the company was free to pick and prod their food, taking only the meaty bits they could find. Thorin had almost looked up, intending to talk to Bilbo when — “Bilbo,” Nori called out from next to Dwalin. Thorin almost bit his tongue as he shut his mouth. “I heard you took out fifteen orcs all by yourself.” He stated, looking for confirmation. 

Bilbo seemed tense as he nodded. “All but one escaped me.” 

Nori smiled and nodded. “A mighty feat.” He pointed his fork toward the hobbit. “Care to share the story?” Nori asked as Bifur signed something. 

“Oh, aye! It ought to be a good story!” Bofur beamed before he turned to translate for Bilbo. “Bifur says he was impressed when he saw it! Course, none of the rest of us saw much but trees.” It looked like Nori was trying to bridge the gap between the ‘Ris and the hobbit. With Bifur and Bofur, the ‘Urs were not far behind. Thorin approved, as much as the hobbit confused and concerned him. He had proven he was an asset and, more importantly, that he would survive. At least until he met the dragon. 

The conversation continued as the next round of dishes were handed out, this time with more meats, delicately slathered in sauces, and less greens to turn their nose at. The sauces were delicious, some savory, some spicy, some sweet, and a few were leafy… somehow. Bifur had been the first to say ‘avoid the red sauce,’ which had somehow tasted of cinnamon and leaves.

Thorin listened as Bilbo recounted what had happened the night he ambushed the Orcs, much to Bofur’s glee and Ori’s amazement. He had decidedly left off the end, but all of them understood what happened to some extent, some more than others. No one seemed keen to bring it up.

When the hobbit finished his tale of heroism and bravery— some may say stupidity— Dwalin huffed a stoic laugh. “I would like to see you wield something other than claws. Could do you some good in the long run.” Was… Dwalin approving of Bilbo? Thorin had known Dwalin all his life. Dwalin did not just hand out the offer to teach someone weapon-wielding out of nowhere. Fíli started to smile and looked at Kíli, who was also smiling. The hobbit didn’t seem to understand but nodded anyway. Well, Thorin would look forward to the next morning.

A few more meat dishes came out, the last one being meat smoked on the bone, which everyone silently praised. What they did not praise was the salads that came with it. Dinner continued on until it ended with hardly a word from Bilbo toward him. In fact, everyone aside from Thorin had been able to speak to Bilbo and make an attempt at amends before the last dishes were being taken away. It was toward the end, when everyone was idly making their way back to their rooms that Thorin noticed Bilbo was heading off with elves rather than following them to the courtyard that would be their temporary stay.

"Where is he going?" Thorin asked Dwalin quietly, gesturing toward Bilbo's retreating form.

Dwalin shrugged. "You might want to ask the ones who hardly stray from his side." came his gruff response and there was no need to ask who that was. Fíli , Kíli , and Ori gravitated toward the hobbit like he was part of their pack. That was a subject Thorin was conflicted about. They may not know much about Beastkin or wildborn, whatever Bilbo called it, but most of the skills and terms came to them as naturally as breathing. Being a pack was a strong bond, one that went beyond the boundaries of blood and status. Adding someone to it was a big deal to add someone to it.

"Fíli." Thorin called, causing his nephew to halt and turn around. Once Thorin had come close enough, he asked the burning question in his mind. "Why is Bilbo leaving with the elves?" he asked, though, by now, the hobbit was gone.

Fíli 's face fell a little, even though he tried to hide the disappointment that was so obvious. "His room is in a different area." he muttered and that came as a shock. He had figured that Bilbo would be placed with them since he was part of the company. As they all made their way back to their rooms, it continued to burn in his mind that Bilbo wasn't there. At the best of days they had all kept their distance, no point in befriending a dead man. However, he could see the shift in mentality over the last week as he taught the young dwarrow and especially how they all came back relatively happy and excited.

"Your upset." Dwalin stated as they all started to drift toward their room for a well earned rest.

"I'm not." Thorin retorted to which Dwalin scoffed.

"Right, and I'm a pointy eared elf lass." Dwalin snarked. "It's about Bilbo, isn't it?"

Thorin sighed, looking around to see that everyone had gone in aside from Bofur who had lit a pipe and was on the far side of the courtyard. "He's part of my company. Having him so far away doesn't feel right." he admitted quietly, as if it were against some rule for him to care.

"Our treatment probably didn't help. Probably asked for a separated room himself to be away from us." Dwalin answered but then shrugged. "Tomorrow is the day. Let him join in the hunt."

"You know what it means to join the hunt. It would be to accept Bilbo into the pack." Thorin spoke warily of the topic. "I may trust him enough to not abandon us before we reclaim Erebor… but what of after? We have not experienced it before. What would it mean to willingly leave a pack?" Thorin asked, knowing Dwalin did not know either.

"And if joining the pack meant that Bilbo would not leave?" Dwalin asked in return. "We know little about his life before, but we know enough to think there is a chance he may not want to return." there was a moment of silence in which Dwalin let out a questioning hum. "That may be another question the lads can answer." He smacked Thorin on the shoulder as he made his way to his room.

Thorin had no time to rest as his presence had been requested tonight for the map situation. However, even as he made his way toward the meeting, his mind burned with questions and what decision he should make.

When Fíli left his room, only Bofur sat there unbothered.

When Kíli left his room, Nori was there as well, tucked into a corner with his own pipe.

When Ori left his room, Dori was waiting.

The silence was tense and awkward as Ori found himself caught. It had been a long time coming and Dori had been more patient than Ori had expected given how he had spent all his free time with Bilbo lately. "Care to share where you are going?" Dori asked sternly as Ori clasped his hands in front of him. "Ori, I've been patient," agreed "but sneaking out? You are acting like," Dori gestured boldly toward Nori who did nothing but snicker.

"Why do you think I am not doing anything? I think its endearing." Nori countered. Dori's face scrunched as he placed his hands on his hips. Ori had to do something before they started a full fight right there in the courtyard.

"I want to learn what Bilbo knows." he murmured nervously, wondering if it would be okay yet to tell them the full extent of their teachings and just how much there was to their curse than any of them had known.

"But now? The changing is tomorrow." Dori's distress was clear and it emboldened the youngest Ri brother.

"That's why its so important that I go. Fíli and Kíli are so far ahead of me now." he said, determined to show them just how much good Bilbo's knowledge was tomorrow when everyone would see them transform. They had seen small parts, Fíli's transformation and Kíli's aquiring of skills. However, they still didn't seem to understand it and most were content to just watch them and wait for some catastrophe. Though Ori was surprised everyone took Fíli's transformation so easily. Perhaps they thought it was a fluke? Stress? Who knows?

"It's that important to you?" Dori asked, his voice dipping into a soft tone which hurt to hear. It was like Dori thought he was going to leave and never come back. Last the youngest heard that tone, it was when he was begging Nori to stop with…something, Ori could barely remember what the argument was about but he knew it had gotten loud enough that he had covered his ears and hid in Dori's room.

"It is." Ori said, standing his ground against the pull he felt to give in under the pressure. Dori stepped to the side and Ori rushed past. Any slower and he may not go at all, but he had to. Fíli and Kíli could both shift while he could only acquire. Bilbo had wanted to teach him to shift tonight for the fact that tomorrow was the full moon. It was his last chance if he wanted to avoid the pain; and he really did want to avoid it.

He headed through the winding paths of Rivendell until he came across the pond that marked where Bilbo was staying. It was an area shaped like the moon. The buildings made up a waning crescent while the pond made up the waning gibbous. Reflecting the true moon's glow, nearly full aside from a sliver, it was beautiful. "About time!" Kíli complained as Ori came to a stop in front of Bilbo.

"I was starting to worry." Bilbo said as he pushed himself from the edge of the water. The lesson started without much other conversation. Fíli showed his ability to shift and Ori was in pure awe. Five days and Fíli was amazing at it. Hardly a delay between him moving to shift and actually doing so, he held strong the whole time. He claimed this was his eighth or ninth shift. Then Kíli did it and he could see the difference a few days and several shifts could make. Kíli was wobbly and this was only his third time trying to do it. He tried to emulate his brother by walking into it but ended up prone on the ground by the time it was over.

Ori knew how his first shift would be…though hopefully he didn't end up prone on the ground as well. Step by step, Ori focused and he tried several times— decidedly staying still so he would not land on his face. He reassessed how he thought of his wolf after Kíli explained his predicament. However, he soon found out where his block was. It was Dori. "I think… I am having trouble because Dori…" he murmured nervously as he felt everything start to overwhelm him.

"Ori, come sit for a moment." Bilbo said, still patient despite how long they had been trying. At least an hour if not two given how far the moon was across the sky. Ori did, looking out across the moon filled pond. It was perfectly reflecting it and as still as the night itself. Bilbo turned to Fíli and Kíli but Ori didn't see what he did, his eyes were focused on the moon's reflection. What he did know was that he heard two sets of paws pad away. "Can you explain?" Bilbo asked after a bit more silence.

So Ori did. He explained all about what it was like growing up. How much Dori worried for him and all the sickness that plagued him because of the wolf shifting. He recalled hearing Dori contemplate money and doctors that might help. Even one doctor that had left Dori quiet for a long time. Ori only found out later that they had scammed them out of hard earned and scarce coin. By the time the story was over, Ori was crying into Bilbo's shoulder, all the guilt and shame that had built up finally boiling over. "I've caused him so much worry and I know what I am doing will help him too if he can see it, but…" he sobbed as Bilbo comforted him the best he could. The way he remembered his mother comforted him during a time of similar guilt.

"It sounds to me that if Dori could see you shift without the pain that has plagued you all, he may understand and maybe even celebrate it. I bet he would not forsake even a coin he spent for your health and well being. I have seen how he mothers you. As any family would, he probably wishes for you to live the best life possible." Bilbo explained as Ori calmed himself down from his near hysteric state. "Of course, I don't know him well. I only know what I can see." he explained and Ori nodded.

"I believe you are right, I just…"

"Needed to be heard?" Bilbo finished and Ori nodded. "I understand completely and I am honored to be the one you spoke to." Bilbo smiled as Ori took a few deep breaths and wiped off his face. Bilbo stood. "Do you wish to try again?" he asked. Ori looked out over the still pond and the moon reflected at the center before nodding.

And out came a beautiful ginger wolf. Ori only slightly fell in his own shock at how easily the wolf had just…slipped out. His ears flicked and pinned as he took in the entire sensation and situation. "Any pain?" Bilbo asked, stepping forward as Ori took a few careful steps and stretched out rather sore muscles. It had definitely strained him and caused everything in his body to feel tense and sore but otherwise… he shook his head. Ori started to walk around, tail wagging slightly as he did so. Not a single pain beyond a twinge of his muscles.

He yipped a few times before Bilbo smiled and shifted as well. Now that was a sight and a goal. Bilbo jumped into his wolf form so smoothly that it looked like his fur had formed from the night's mist. "Come along, let's find Kíli and Fíli before they get into too much trouble." Ori was shocked— he had heard from the two Durin heirs that Bilbo could talk as a wolf but this was the first time he had experienced it. Yet another goal to reach.

He followed Bilbo's smaller wolf form as they trailed the scent of the Durin brothers until….they found a small crowd of Elves. What in the world?

When they came into view, a few of those elves turned their attention to them and there were only looks of adoration. It had been implied before that wolves were special but this was solid proof. These elves really thought wolf wildborns were special. "Look how regal they are!" One of the elves cooed and Ori looked where they were pointing and saw Fíli and Kíli— quite plainly— posing. "I wonder if we should just leave them." Bilbo murmured and Ori may have already turned around to head somewhere else.