Hobbit Lost shadows

**AN:**** Hello, readers! :) This fic is post-LotR, starting the moment Bilbo travels on the elven ship towards Eternal Lands, also known as Valinor. It is mostly focused on Bagginshield, but also contains a little hint of SamFro (but I hope this doesn't bother you ^^). Now, if you haven't read the Silmarillion read my note till the end and I'll try to explain anything that might be unclear; otherwise you can skip the note and go straight to the story.**

**Valars – beings also known as gods. They live in Valinor (land beyond the Great Sea also called Belegaer). The only one mightier than them is Eru Iluvatar, the first god who brought them to life.**

**Maiars – gods of lower rank than valars. Sauron for example was one of those.**

**Wizards – there were five wizards sent from Valinor to Middle-Earth. In fact they are maiars, and their purpose was to aid those beings who needed help in the struggle against evil.**

**Aul****ë**** (also known as Mahal) – is the valar who created dwarves. It is said, that after death Mahal takes them to a place called Mandos, where separate residences are prepared for each of them. **

**Olórin – it's Gandalf's true name as maiar.**

**Translations of the elvish language (sindarin) are in the ending note. I used sindarin instead of quenya because that's the language I learned a bit in the past, and since I was never fond of the other one, that'll have to do.**

**In case something in the chapter is unclear for you, just let me know and I'll try to explain. Or if there are any mistakes also let me know.**

**Enjoy :)**

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**..::Part I –The Beauty and the Tragedy [of Life]::..**

Bilbo watched as the sun was slowly dying out, its hot colours blurring and blending on the frozen canvas of the sky, dripping into the wavy water of the ocean, painting it red as if cold blood was flooding the world. A light breeze from the east was pushing a small ship towards the wounded ball of light, just barely bulging its snow-white sail. Everything seemed to stand in the very same place all the time, like if there was an anchor buried in the lifeless depths under the fragile wooden watercraft, holding it, disallowing any movements and preventing it from achieving the only purpose of its empty existence. Its goal lay beyond the distant horizon, which resembled a border of a dying country, buried under cracked bones and warm ashes, for it all burned, light from the just partly visible sun engulfing it in an eternal fire like that of war and anguish.

When the elderly halfling felt a heavy weariness settle over his slouched, bony shoulders, he turned, leaving the fire-coloured prow and heading for a little wooden box located in the middle section of the ship. As he slowly walked, tiny footsteps accompanied with a walking stick being the only way of getting around, the hobbit noticed a pure ebony blackness devouring the world behind the ship, absorbing every bit of the dying light. The gloom quickly caught up to the unhasty travellers, bringing a death-like veil over the insignificant wooden spot lost in the infinity of the ocean, which looked like an endless puddle of drying and darkening blood.

The hobbit reached the box, probably filled with fresh fish, as the stinky smell suggested, and slowly lowered himself to the sitting position. The gripping pain in his legs faded just enough for him to feel relieved, so he pulled out a little, worn-out bag from a pocket of his jacket. It consisted of a simple, small, wooden pipe and a few leaves, which scent reminded Bilbo heavily of his green hill in Shire and the endless hours spent there in the company of only painfully beautiful memories of days lost what seemed like an eternity ago.

Small flicker of light danced upon the hobbit's weary face only to vanish as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind only small puff of smoke. He lifted the wooden object with trembling hands, and catching it in between his lips inhaled deeply.

The pitch black that had taken over the world was steadily coming to life. What not so long before had looked like the epitome of death itself, started transforming into a breathtaking scene full of light dancing with unthinkable grace in the enormous space spreading over the world. A few of the half-transparent, ragged clouds racing across the sky, changed their colour into glossy silver as the starlight was piercing them, creating an illusion of thin spider webs floating on the salty, midnight breeze.

The view was so very similar to the one Bilbo saw many decades ago, yet was never able to forget. There was a special, one-in-a-lifetime memory attached to the sky full of pulsating white points, forever forged deep into the roots of his mind and soul. The hobbit sighed wistfully, cloud of smoke erupting from his nostrils and mouth, and then closed his glassy eyes, sinking in the vivid images of things that had happened in another lifetime, as it seemed, for there was no possible coming back to them.

***flashback***

Fresh scent of pine trees assaulted Bilbo's sense of smell as he stepped out of the merrily-twinkling camp light and into the shadow of a few trees, standing in line and blocking the view of mountain tops which, he knew, were decorated with incredibly white snow. He pushed his way through the curtain of twigs with great amount of soft needles attached to them and after a while of struggling reached the edge of the obstacle. There was a vast glade spreading from under his feet up to the mountains, almost touching their solid walls, if not for the small forest in the distance. The hobbit moved to an especially thick tree and sat at its base, leaning his head back, against the rough rind. He pulled a little, and a bit worn-out bag from the pocket of his jacket. Soon cloud of smoke and occasional smoke rings surrounded the round face adorned by slightly too long curls, glinting like the finest sword in the silver starlight. Bilbo was too lost in thought, admiring whatever god there was for creating such beautiful scenery sparkling under the blinking lights, that he didn't notice Thorin's approach nor his enchanted gaze, pointed exactly at him. Long minutes later he felt the other's presence, when the dwarf moved closer and sat beside him. Bilbo glanced at him, feeling blush slowly rise to his cheeks at the body heat radiating off the other, from their barely touching shoulders. The king in exile was looking ahead, toward the great Misty Mountains, under which shadow he'd have lost his life, if not for the peaceful being that was the halfling. It was strange how a person so unaccustomed to war or violence as Bilbo, stood up in defence of the dwarf, fiercely risking his own life and precious dreams of returning home to the cosy hobbit hole, for the sake of the other's well-being.

The hobbit watched Thorin in awe, admiring how exposed the other's emotions were, plainly visible on his face, changing rapidly with the waves of his thoughts. Bilbo caught himself staring and wanted to turn his head away when the dwarf suddenly looked at him, his heavy gaze penetrating the very soul of the hafling, who was unable to look away once their eyes connected. The moment seemed to last forever as neither of them was willing to stop it. The feeling was overwhelming and Bilbo felt his head spin as he realized the unbelievably close proximity of the two of them. He could feel the tingling of his nose and lips as Thorin's breath washed over them. He was also sure of the blush covering his face, since he felt the strange heat rise in his whole body. The hobbit never before have felt such strong sensations fill his very being, but he didn't get a chance to ponder on the reasons behind the matter for suddenly something warm and so very delicate brushed his lips, barely touching their smooth surface. The feeling was incredibly pleasant and he couldn't help but lean in, closing his eyes in the process. He sighed into the kiss as he felt Thorin's content purr transmit low vibrations through their strong, yet unpredictable connection and into his body, causing burning jolts of electricity to run from his pounding heart to the tips of the fingers. The sensation was breathtaking and Bilbo couldn't bear it any longer, so he uncontrollably pushed his tingling hands into the soft fur of the dwarf's coat, completely forgotten pipe falling to the grass as he tangled his fingers in the smooth material and held onto it for dear movement changed the angle between them, making Thorin's beard tickle the hobbit's chin. He couldn't stop the muffled moan from escaping him and travelling deep into the dwarf's mouth as his lips parted just slightly to let out the definitely uncharacteristic for him sound. He felt his back arch, pushing him further into the welcoming arms, that he hadn't realized were already encircling his trembling with emotions frame. Bilbo had never before known it was possible for two beings to be so close, yet he still carved to be even closer, to share EVERYTHING with the dwarf, to become one with him. The need was extremely sudden and unexpected and left him so light-headed that the hobbit forgot how to breath, making an almost chocking sound. That was when they broke it. The connection was lost, forever marking their souls with the beautiful memory as they both panted, trying to catch as much air as possible, like if that was the last, brief moment before a leap into a deep water. Bilbo felt Thorin's overpowering scent fill his lungs and cling to his whole body, as the dwarf's heavy puffs of air landed on his overly sensitive skin. When the realization of what actually had taken place between him, a very ordinary hobbit, and the future king of the dwarven kingdom of Erebor, started sinking in, Bilbo heard the low voice whisper against his lips.

"_...Bilbo_" – his name spoken softly, with the hint of affection behind it, made the hobbit open his eyes, eyelids fluttering when he saw Thorin's expression of stunned appreciation, raw emotions playing on the king's face. He felt blush once again rise over his cheeks at the attention pointed entirely at him, which only made the dwarf smirk at him, a sight so rare ,that Bilbo was sure, it'd remain in his mind for long decades to come.

He then noticed just how tightly his hands were still entangled and clutching at the thick fur of the other's heavy coat, and how much Thorin's breath tickled the hobbit's lips, making them shudder at the memory of the lost touch. The heat on his face started burning even more and Bilbo was almost sure that soon foam would start forming around him in the chilly night air if he didn't regain his composure.

It seemed the king enjoyed watching his burglar's embarrassment, who trying to defend the rest of his pride, turned his head away, looking like if he took great offence in the whole situation. A deep chuckle was what he got in response. And that, obviously, made the poor hobbit even more flushed.

"_It's not funny!_" – he exclaimed in annoyed tone, trying to wriggle free of the dwarf's arms. He surprisingly succeeded without much of a struggle, but soon found he had no idea, what to do next and just started fidgeting with an edge of his jacket, thinking hard on the reasons behind Thorin's behaviour. The hobbit had to admit he'd fallen hard for the dwarf from the moment he'd entered his hobbit-hole. The feelings had been growing firmer roots into his heart with each passing day of the journey, crushing small parts of his soul every time Thorin would emphasise just how useless the hobbit was amongst the whole company of dwarves. Even thought Bilbo had been shuttered in those moments and had known that keeping the ill addiction would only break him further, he hadn't been able to think of anything to prevent it from expanding. It had been simply far beyond his ability to control. All he had been able to dream at those times was of even one precious moment in the dwarf's arms.

Sitting below a tree with Thorin, shoulder to shoulder, with the sensations from the unexpected kiss still running through his mind, Bilbo was supposed to be happy, but somehow anxiety was still gnawing at him. He was still scared. Scared of doing something wrong when the world finally seemed to no longer be against him. Scared of rejection, that might come in the moment when he gave in and became comfortable, laying his feelings plainly visible. And most of all scared of losing the dwarf who became so much more to him than just a mere leader.

The thoughts running through his mind suddenly came to a halt when something touched his hand. Bilbo glanced down and noticed his forgotten pipe held by Thorin. The dwarf pulled the hobbit's fingers almost tenderly, opening his palm and placing the wooden object upon it. He didn't remove his hand, moving it to Bilbo's unoccupied one and lacing them together.

The hobbit looked up, still not quite able to believe that it all was more than just an illusion or sheer dream.

Thorin's expression was full of peace. It was almost the same look as the one the dwarf had watching Erebor in the distance for the first time in many years. It was full of happiness and warmth and _hope_. Bilbo felt his heart skip a beat but then his eyes grew distant, concerning thoughts of hesitation and confusion assaulting his mind once again.

"_Why..?_" – he heard his voice speak in the tiniest of whispers.

Thorin looked at him questioningly so Bilbo tried once again.

"_Why did you do that.. I mean… Why ME? I'm no more than a mere hobbit. Unlike you.. There's nothing special about me._" – he finished sadly, lowering his head, only to have it lifted moment later by Thorin, gently pulling the hobbit's chin up.

"_Do not doubt yourself, my little burglar_" – the dwarf smiled softly at Bilbo – "_..I have done so for long enough and there's no need for you to repeat my mistake. The lesson has already been learned.._" – he said in a serious tone and Bilbo only stared at him, mesmerized by the way those seemingly bottomless, blue orbs dug their way through his soul, into the heart pounding with emotions, hidden deep underneath all the thick layers of his very being.

"_There's much more to you than meets the eye. And all those things are gathered here.._" – said Thorin laying his palm flat against the hobbit's chest, in the spot pulsating with warmness, transmitting it to his king even through all the clothing that prevented skin-to-skin contact. The hobbit was filled with so many emotions, some of which he still couldn't recognize, but one thing he knew for certain. It felt like finally being home.

Bilbo moved closer to Thorin, their faces apart only by an inch, and placed his hands on both sides of the dwarf's face, stroking them gently, as if trying to pour all of his feelings into the simple gesture. Thorin sighed contently and leaned forward, his forehead pressing against the hobbit's, completely relaxing in his arms. The silence keeping those two mingled beings under its spell was only occasionally broken by a quiet mix of their breaths and the almost inaudible sound of Thorin's beard scratching softly against Bilbo's palms.

"_Thorin..?_"

"_Hmm..?_" – the dwarf hummed lowly in question.

"_Will we always stay like this… Together?_" – Bilbo's voice was a bit shaky, yet full of hope and a fair amount of curiosity. It resembled the tone of a child asking their mother if those how were good would really become the beautiful, blinking stars after death, and believing it to be absolutely true.

Thorin eyed him, clearly contemplating the answer.

"_We will. Till the end of time. There's no obstacle I wouldn't overcome for you. Even if something separates us I will definitely find you. That's a promise, Bilbo._" – he said and smiling, planted a soft kiss on Bilbo's lips as if sealing the vow. It was tender and full of love. The moment felt so perfect that the hobbit truly believed they would really be able to defeat anything blocking their path to happiness.

***end of the flashback***

Bilbo opened his eyes and a solitary tear slid down his face. It slowly made its way between all the wrinkles and after reaching the chin fell silently, shuttering when it collided with the cold planks of the ship's deck. The hobbit's lips slightly curved upwards, filling his face with a bittersweet smile. Even though he and Thorin have been separated for so long, now was the moment when he had most hope for reuniting ever since the gruesome battle that took the dwarf away from him. Bilbo had learned years ago that life was nowhere near as easy as it seemed and that one can never be sure of the outcome of any decision or situation. Even when he'd had best intentions and wanted to save Thorin and the rest of the company by giving the Arkenstone, the most precious gem of the dwarf's ancestors, to Bard and the elven king, believing it could have a good effect in the end, he was gravely mistaken. Not only it had made Thorin furious with rage to the point he had considered throwing the halfling from the walls of Erebor, into certain death, but also had done nothing to prevent the heirs of Durin from dying.

Now, he was just a day's travel from the Sacred Lands of Valinor, where, as Gandalf assured him, was Aulë's Great Palace, to which all dwarves were sent after their journey on Middle-Earth was over. Yet he didn't dare be sure of meeting the one he loved most, afraid that once he gave in and became content everything would just blur, turn into fog and then disappear like a weak candle flame, turning out to be a mere dream, and leaving him alone with his grief.

The hobbit struggled to stand up from his spot, an immense amount of contradictory thoughts still racing through his mind. When, after long moments, he finally managed to make his numb with age and cold limbs move, the hobbit turned and walked to the door leading under the deck, to get some rest before tomorrow, which, he hoped would at last let him add a happy ending to the last chapter of his life.

...

Bilbo woke up with a grunt of pain. His spine and joints ached, the throbbing feeling taking hold of all his body. He shifted uncomfortably and tried to stretch, but his old bones protested and he only managed to straighten his legs a bit. The inability to fully move in the morning was one of the many cons of Bilbo's age, but the hobbit knew it would slowly fade away if only he showed patience and waited for his body to awaken.

After long moments the pain indeed became much less unbearable and the hobbit could finally make it out of bed. He tried to be as quiet as possible, not to wake Frodo, sleeping in the same cabin. He managed to change his clothing and was already gripping the knob, when he heard a sleepy voice behind ask:

'"_Uncle? Where are you going?_"

Bilbo turned around and found Frodo laying on his side, watching him through barely open eyes still filled with sleepy haze, his dark curls ruffled and covering a fair amount of the pale face. The old hobbit smiled at the sight and since he didn't want the boy (as he used to call him) to get up yet, when he could still cope with walking on his own, he answered:

"_Frodo, my boy. Go back to sleep. I'll just.. stretch my old bones a bit_" – he said with a little bit of mirth in his voice. The other hobbit looked him over and then closed his eyes, instantly falling back asleep, a soft snore escaping his scarcely agape mouth. Bilbo chuckled quietly at that and left the cabin, taking the walking stick with him.

When he reached the deck, he noticed Gandalf and Elrond already were there, talking about something. He didn't want to disturb them but was spotted despite his best intentions. Gandalf sent him a warm smile, and Bilbo realized the wizard's eyes were much more joyful than usual, when he stretched his hand towards the hobbit, gesturing him to join them. He did so, slowly approaching his friend. The agonizing morning pain was completely forgotten, when upon reaching the prow, he made out a thin line of a green land on the horizon. It was bathed in the colourful rays of dawn merrily chasing night away and bringing new hope into hearts of the travellers.

"_That's Tol Eress__ë__a. The Lonely Island._" – said Elrond – "_Our destination lays behind it. At the end of the Bay of Eldamar, there is a city of Tirion, where in the white harbour we shall find the end of our sea journey._" – he looked at Bilbo and smiled knowingly at the far-away look present on the hobbit's face, as he stared into the distance, his hope so strong it almost made him glow.

Bilbo refused to leave the prow, unable to tear his eyes away from the island, which got closer with each minute. Finally, when Frodo appeared on the deck, he managed to convince his uncle, that standing there would not bring them quicker to their goal and that it was no use if Bilbo tired himself at the beginning of the day.

The weather was beautiful, with not even the smallest hint of clouds on the sky, so the elves decided to serve breakfast on the deck. They brought lots of soft pillows for everyone to sit and plates full of food with a distinct, mouth-watering aroma.

Bilbo began chewing on a still warm lembas with melting butter on top, but after a while noticed Frodo staring into space, oblivious to the food before him. The older hobbit touched his shoulder, and when the younger finally turned towards him, confused expression adorning his face, Bilbo asked if everything was alright.

"_Yes. It's just.. I miss Sam._" – he admitted sadly, avoiding his uncle's eyes – "_I'm not sure anymore if it was wise to leave him in the Shire alone.._"

"_He's not alone, Frodo. Now, he's got a family. And I assure you, boy, he's perfectly capable of taking care of everything on his own._" – Bilbo smiled reassuringly at him when Frodo at last decided to look at him.

"_Hmm.. You're probably right, uncle._" – with that said the younger hobbit stood up.

"_Are you not eating?_" – Bilbo asked concerned.

"_I'm just not hungry._" – said Frodo – "_I'm going to check something in the cabin._" – with that said he left the group, seeking loneliness in the place he mentioned.

Bilbo sighed, knowing the younger hobbit was probably going to wistfully stare at the little portrait drawing of his friend. Well, he was no one to tell the boy it was unwise, since he knew, better than anyone on the ship, how it felt to be parted from those you love, because of your own decisions.

...

The day seemed to last forever, stretching into eternity, as everyone was impatient and eager to finally get to their destination. When they passed Tol Eressëa and sailed into the immense bay behind it, a huge mountain rose over the horizon. Even from the vast distance Bilbo knew it was the biggest mountain he's ever seen. It's peak was snow-white, shining lightly in the sunlight. At that moment everyone was on deck, even Frodo decided to join them, admiring the sight ahead.

It the early hours of evening they saw lights, merrily glinting on the horizon. Soon they were met with a view of the beautiful city standing just behind the white harbour.

Bilbo felt his heart speed up with each minute. The thought that Thorin may be just there, waiting for him with that breathtaking, soft smile tugging at his lips filled the hobbit with such a kind of joy he hadn't known for long decades. When they reached the harbour, there was a crowd of curious eyes watching the travellers get off ship. The hobbit was held by Frodo, who feared his uncle might lose the walking stick in his excitement and tumble to the ground, which would be extremely dangerous considering his age. Bilbo trotted forward impatiently against Frodo's protests, and scanned the crowd for a familiar figure but it was either too dark and his eyes weren't as good as years before or Thorin wasn't among the ones gathered there, for he probably didn't know they were coming – Bilbo told himself.

They were greeted cheerfully, their hosts led them up a crystal staircase, through a huge white gate and further into the city. There was a great feast waiting for them in one of the beautifully shaped buildings. Bilbo always thought that nothing in the world could be equal to the charm of Rivendell, but upon entering Tirion, he completely changed his mind. The scenery was breathtaking, and resembled nothing he had ever seen, so there was no simple way to describe it. The thought was upsetting, since the hobbit felt a sudden urge to grab a feather and once again pour all of his newfound experiences onto paper. It wasn't, however, the biggest of his worries. The merry singing and cheering all around them made the elderly hobbit dizzy and he started swaying. Frodo instantly noticed this and urged him to get some rest.

They asked one of the elves on their way if there were any rooms for them and after getting directions moved out of the mass of taller beings. They almost reached the door of one of the smaller houses, which, as they were told, was prepared for them, but when Frodo was about to enter, a familiar voice from behind called them. They both turned only to be met with Gandalf. The wizard looked somehow different, his face was glowing with an unnatural silver light, and looked much younger than previously. Even his hair was no longer entirely white, for there were strands of a brown colour in them. Or maybe it was just the strange lighting playing tricks on their eyes. Neither of the hobbits mentioned it and when Gandalf finally stood before them they looked curiously at him.

"_Here_" – said the wizard, handing two golden goblets to them, an unknown opaque substance swirling inside – "_Drink this, and made sure your uncle drinks his too._" – he told Frodo – "_It will make you feel better._" – he smiled at both of them and left, wishing them good night.

Frodo did as the wizard told him and afterwards escorted Bilbo to his bed, fearing for his health, because the moment they reached a bedroom, his uncle had collapsed on the soft pillows and instantly fell asleep, his breath uneven. The younger hobbit could do nothing but hope Bilbo got better soon.

...

Bilbo woke up smiling. The memories of a pleasant dream he'd had still fresh in his mind. The sun must have already been high in the sky, because bright and warm rays were falling directly onto his face. He yawned, stretched and sat up, only to realize something was odd. It has been years since he last had enough strength to move like this just after waking up. Bilbo frowned and looked at his hands, gasping in surprise at the sight he was met with. There were no signs of the wrinkles, that have for so long adorned his old body. In fact, his hands looked like the hands of a young, but adult hobbit, living comfortable life, and not doing anything that might cause any scars to appear on his body. His breath was coming up in short pants, as he thought about the revelation. '_There's only one way to be sure._' – he muttered to himself, standing up from the bed with unexpected easiness and eying the room for any mirror. He spotted one, shaped like an upside down raindrop and quickly run to it. Grabbing the object Bilbo hesitated, fearing that if he really looked into it, the whole situation would turn out to be just a dream and he'd wake up to the grey reality. Nothing like this happened and he was met with a sight of a curious hobbit, maybe in his fifties. His hair was once again full of rich browns, with no silver visible among the soft curls. He stared incredulously at the person before him, but suddenly there was a knock at the door, and he barely managed not to whop the fragile mirror.

Bilbo pulled the knob, revealing a young man, or elf, with somehow familiar features. The hobbit stood there, wondering who that might be, but the one before him smiled brightly, chuckling at the halfling's confusion.

"_My dear Bilbo. You look exactly like on that day, when I first came to your door, asking if you'd be interested in sharing in an adventure._"

"_Gandalf..?_" –the hobbit asked, not quite believing his eyes, but then everything clicked into place – "_Gandalf! But... how did this happen?_" – he asked curiously.

"_Do you remember the drink you had yesterday?_" – Bilbo nodded – "_It has special properties. Nobody knows what would happen to the ones who died here, in the place where all come after reaching the end of their mortal journey. So we merely had to get rid of your vulnerable outer coating without losing your soul._" – Bilbo looked to the side, processing the information in his head.

"_So a soul cannot die?_" – the hobbit asked.

"_Unfortunately it can. But not from the influence of time. Only great sorrow or pain can make a soul vanish, or maybe travel further..._" – Bilbo listened, curious.

"_And what about you? I thought wizards are meant to not age._" – he asked, only then realizing even his voice was young again.

"_Yes, we don't age as mortals do. There were five of us who were sent from here to Middle-Earth long ages ago. My true, maiar form is standing now before you. Back when we first met and throughout all your life you knew only the appearance of my, let's call it, mortal cloak._"

Bilbo stared at the wizard and finally managed to smile – "_I'm glad you're here with me, my friend._" – he said to Gandalf.

But just then, when his mood seemed to be best in a very long time, another thought entered his mind.

"_Gandalf. I need to find Thorin..._"

"_I know._" – said the wizard, in a strangely discontent voice – "_We're heading to Valmar today. This is where you will be most likely to see him. Of course if Aulë hasn't sent the dwarf to Mandos yet. Anyway, first you need to change your clothing and eat a proper meal for once."_

"_Alright, give me an hour and then we can go._"

...

The ride wasn't long, partially because of the short distance and also due to the fact that the palfreys they were given were incredibly swift. Bilbo was travelling only with Gandalf, for Frodo insisted on staying in the harbour city for a little more, before joining them in the heart of the Eternal Lands. They rode in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts. The view spreading before the two of them was even more beautiful than all of Tirion and Rivendell summed up, but Bilbo paid it no mind. All he could come up with at the moment was the image of Thorin, determination mingled with hope in the dark blue eyes looking far into distant horizon, where a solitude peak was looming from fogs over the edge of the world.

The citizens of Valmar were much more composed than the elves from Tirion. Only few cast curious glances at the travellers and none interrupted their journey. After crossing the city they reached a small gate in the western part of the walls. The path leading from there was wide and perfectly clear, even though there was a forest of both sides of it. After a while of trotting through the green sea, Bilbo looked around curious. Each tree was unique, completely different from the others. The incredible diversity among them was puzzling and Bilbo wanted to ask Gandalf about it, but when he turned his head he noticed a huge building, emerging from the forest before them. They stopped and dismounted the animals in front of a large wooden door. The hobbit looked at the wizard questioningly when they neared the closed entrance. Gandalf lifted his hand, with intent to knock, but his fist stopped halfway as a loud, screechy sound shook the earth under their feet. Then the door stirred and opened, revealing an elf, or somebody resembling one, as Bilbo thought. His hair was the colour of the blackest of nights, skin pale like the full moon, and eyes a fair blue. The stranger instantly looked at the wizard, eyeing him incredulously yet warily.

"_Mae govannen, Gwathdome._" – Gandalf said, bowing his head lightly.

"_Olórin.._" – the other said with a sneer – "_So the rumours of your return were true indeed._"

Bilbo looked between the two of them and noticed Gandalf wince at Gwathdome's cold attitude towards him. The wizard sighed and continued in a more formal voice.

"_We're looking for your master. Is Aulë home?_"

"_No.._" – the other said with amusement and then his eyes finally caught sight of the hobbit. He looked unbelievingly at the halfling, then stepped forward and crouched before him so their heads were on the same level.

"_But I suppose someone else is, and maybe the little one here is trying to find him." – he said looking up at Gandalf._

"_Are you?_" – The dark haired male asked, his unnaturally bright blue eyes once again scanning Bilbo.

The hobbit felt a cold chill run through his body at the way those orbs stared at him, but managed to compose himself before anyone could notice his distress.

"_I-I'm looking for a dwarf called Thorin._" – he said, his voice trembling. The name left a strange sense of emptiness after rolling off his tongue.

"_Hmm.. Well, that's wonderful._" – Gwathdome said. A strangely joyful smiled appeared on his face and Bilbo couldn't help but think how false it looked on the pale skin.

"_I can take you to him... If you wish so, of course._" – that instantly got the hobbit's full attention.

"_Yes_" – Bilbo answered hurriedly - "_Can we go now?_"

The pale one nodded in response and stood, turning around and heading for the door. The hobbit trotted behind him but almost collided with the other's legs when he suddenly came to a halt just after passing the entrance. He turned abruptly and Bilbo also did so.

"_Daro!_" – the hobbit heard from behind and it was clearly meant for Gandalf, for the wizard didn't look pleased at all.

"_You're not allowed in here. Ego!_" – the dark haired male said - "_The halfling will go, but only if you leave us._"

Gandalf wanted to say something, his lips already forming words, when suddenly a small voice interrupted him.

"_Gandalf, please..._" – Bilbo said, almost begging.

The wizard looked down at him and after noticing the hard determination in his eyes, sighed and turning said:

"_Bilbo... be careful._" – with that he left.

The door was soon closed and the hobbit could do nothing else but follow the one before him through a dimly lit corridor. He felt his heart speed up with each step that brought them nearer Thorin, sure that the loud thud-thud-thud could be heard throughout the vast space around them, but not really caring about it. They stopped in front of a staircase leading downwards, into pitch blackness. Bilbo felt a lump form in his throat, making his quickened breathing much harder and definitely more audible. He glanced at Gwathdome when they just stood there, his whole being itching to go forward, despite the fear consuming him.

"_You see.. Your dwarf is not exactly staying here on his own will._" – the one beside Bilbo spoke – "_Their kin tends to be greedy and this one was no exception. In fact it brought him and his line to the end as you recall, I hope._" – he said in a frighteningly amused voice. Bilbo only gulped loudly. The other one sneered at him descending the stairs.

"_There are numerous sins the brash dwarf has committed. And for the safety of Valinor we cannot let such an unclear soul wander the peaceful lands free. He was judged by Aulë and since the valar is too vulnerable to watch his creation's pain, I was given the duty to make him redeem for each and every one of his foolish deeds._" – they reached the end of the staircase and Bilbo was boiling inside as the cold voice, empty of any emotions echoed through the vast room before them, but didn't dare interrupt, sensing that the male was no one to reason with.

The hobbit had to cover his nose after they crossed through the room and entered a smaller, yet still spacious chamber. Its walls were made of cold, dark stone. There were no windows or anything with their purpose and the hobbit wondered how he could even see anything without light, but soon realized that the one leading him radiated barely visible, silver glow. The horrible stench of blood was present in the unmoving air and it was so intense tears started forming in Bilbo's eyes, completely blurring his vision. Gwathdome only chuckled at this and moved a few steps forward, stopping in the centre of the room. Bilbo joined him after he managed to clear his eyes and that was when he noticed a shadow in one of the corners. It didn't take long for everything to click into place and the hobbit found himself running towards the one, he'd give his life for a thousand times over. The blood pulsating through him, thudding in his ears was the only sound he heard. The hobbit didn't even cross half of the distance separating him from the figure covered by the rough fur of darkness when he felt a hand grab him by the collar in a cold, steel grip, making the poor hobbit stumble backwards. He turned his head glaring daggers at the smirking male behind him, only to have his heart come to a halt for a second when he heard a painful sign from the corner of the room. Bilbo immediately turned in the direction the sound came from and his eyes locked on a stirring dwarf before him. Now there was no mistake in saying it was the person, the hobbit has yearned for throughout a bigger part of his overly stretched life, for in his haste to catch Bilbo, Gwathdome neared the corner, delivering the faint light just close enough to make even the smallest details of the prisoner visible. The once beautiful dark hair was now filled with blood, ruffled in all directions, resembling more of a fur from a skinned animal than anything else. The once determined face was hidden behind this black curtain, but Bilbo was sure it was HIM. The whole body was clad in the same clothes the hobbit remembered the dwarf wearing during their quest, yet it was torn in many places, stained with even more blood and also a bit darkened like if it had been burned in several spots. Bilbo couldn't stop from struggling against the hand holding him, but when it brought no effect he leaned forward, as far as he could.

"_...Thorin?_" – it was more of a sob than actual whisper but it still worked its purpose. The one in the corner lifted his head. His face was covered in many wounds. The eyes, once so fierce and full of hope were almost empty. The only thing visible in them was disbelief. Yet when they landed on the hobbit, they seemed to be instantly brought back to life. The cold, blue, lifeless depths once again swirling with so many emotions.

"_Bilbo.._" – Thorin said in a whisper, blood slowly trailing from his mouth – "_Is that really.. you...?_"

The thing Bilbo wanted most at that moment was to take him in his arms and assure everything would be fine from now on. But it was impossible. When he smiled comfortingly at the dwarf, the hand on his collar pulled him forcefully backwards, making the hobbit fall to the cold floor. Thorin's protests were barely audible, yet he didn't stop them, struggling against the bonds holding him down, attached to the wall.

Bilbo looked up at Gwathdome approaching him.

"_You have seen your dwarf._" – he said almost laughing – "_Time to go back._"

He tried to catch Bilbo by his clothes again but came to a halt when the hobbit said:

"_Take me instead of Thorin. I sacrifice myself to redeem for his sins._" – his voice was steady, not even a tiniest note of fear could be heard.

"_Is that so?_" – said the dark haired male, smug smile on his face. When Bilbo didn't do anything to cancel his statement, Gwathdome looked back at Thorin, his eyes begging, a silent "_No_" escaping the dwarf's lips time and time over. He turned back to the hobbit – "_Alright. He will be freed the moment your anguish starts._"

Bilbo nodded, only then noticing the horrible pain on Thorin's face, and tears mixed with blood freely streaming down the king's face. He didn't, however, go back on his word, and let Gwathdome lead him out of the chamber, believing he has saved his love from the worst agony.

* * *

**AN:**** Translations:**

**Mae govannen – greetings (used while speaking with someone familiar).**

**Daro – stop.**

**Ego – go away.**

**Gwathdome - means shadow of night. He's my OC and as you probably realized he has some sort of connection with Gandalf. More will be revealed in the next part.**

**The title of this chapter was inspired by **_**The Beauty & The Tragedy **_**by **_**Trading Yesterday.**_** I don't own the song nor any of Tolkien's works used to create this fic.**

**The story will contain at least one more part. The content of the next one is the reason, why this fic is rated M. So if you have a fragile heart I don't really recommend going any further. **

**Thanks for reading *hugs you all Thorin style ^^*. Please, tell me what you think about my work in the reviews.**

**Till the next time :) **


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