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the snow falls and I am here

Summary:

Post "you hide in your garden".

Haldir reflects on fate, particularly that which Bilbo Baggins has changed.

One-shot, gift fic, set in "the changed future" verse. Can be read as a stand-alone.

Notes:

So this is for my darling Heyerette who asked for something with Haldir. All yours, darling.

This is just a tiny character introspective type of thing. If you're reading this as a stand-alone, Bilbo mucked about with fate by taking the One Ring to Mordor, and now he lives in Erebor with Thorin as his husband.

Work Text:

There were times, when Haldir considered Bilbo Baggins, that he wondered about fate. The fate of Erebor, of Durin’s Line. Of Sauron and the Terrible Eye that had once watched all of Arda.

He wondered about his own fate, too. For he had felt it, twelve years ago, in Isengard, where he had fought. He had felt the pull to fight, the pull to a certain part of the wall, the pull to let his arrows loose and then switch to his blades. He had no reason to have done what he did: he had simply done it. When he had felt the terrible hot press of a blade against him, he had understood that it was his time. He had fallen, there in the mud of Isengard, and had prepared to be slain.

And then, he had not fallen.

It had been Dwalin, son of Fundin, who had leapt in with a roar and sent the one with the death blow flying away. Gimli, son of Gloin, had come with him, and together they had kept him safe until two of his elves had been able to lift him to safety. He had been able to do little save for keeping his legs up and away from the ground, in order to not trip them. He had owed his life to two dwarves who had had no reason to aid him.

But yet they had.

As he had lain upon the quickly crafted stretcher, Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli about him, he had suddenly seen them, further aged than they were before, stretching as tall as mountains. He heard a distant cry of his name, and he felt blackness take hold of him. Then it was gone, and he was there, still breathing, and they were young and worried. He had not understood it, at the time. He had merely begged Gimli to offer his gratitude to Dwalin, his life-debt. Gimli had refused, on the grounds that Dwalin would not want it. “He didn’t do it to keep ye bound,” Gimli had explained. “He did it ‘cause he did.”

For ten years after that, he had mourned his sudden departure from the battle, and he had wondered. Then Thorin and his company had returned to Lothlorien, grieving and filled with tales of horror, and Haldir had been offered a chance to aid Dwalin, son of Fundin. At long last he had been able to repay part of his debt by offering what little help he could to the dwarf who had saved his life. If Dwalin had recognized the act, he had made no mention of it, but his gratefulness had shone in his eyes. Losing one’s kin was an unbearable grief.

Then his Lady had told him about little Bilbo Baggins and how he had changed fate, and pieces had fallen into place. The changed three who had suddenly aged, the blackness that had overtaken him. The pull to stand where he had so the death blow could have been given.

He had saved Haldir. Bilbo did not know it, but his actions had saved him. And so thinking about Bilbo Baggins and fate were ever present on his mind.

It was still on his mind when the gates of Erebor opened unto him, and he stepped inside. He was not even surprised when he found Legolas waiting for him, and Bilbo beside him. Gimli, too, was there, and Haldir smiled to see them. “This is quite a welcome,” he said, truly touched. “Thank you.”

“One would think you enjoyed riding in the snow,” Bilbo huffed. “You know, you can visit when it’s not snowing.”

There was no snow, in Lothlorien. Outside the forests, there was harsh, dangerous snow on the mountain, and a misting snow sometimes in the plains of the Wold. But it did not snow as greatly in Lothlorien as it did here in Erebor, nor as gently. “Perhaps I do enjoy riding in the snow,” Haldir countered, but he gave a quick smile with his words to show he meant no harm. “Had you considered that?”

Legolas gave a small laugh. Gimli chuckled. “Come in with ye. Cold enough out here to freeze bits off. Here, you need a warmer cloak, at least a dry one.”

It was an odd friendship that he had found, here with these dwarves and his own kin and a small hobbit. He did not quite know why fate had drawn him aside and spared him when others had fallen. But Bilbo Baggins had changed fate, and for the better. He was grateful to be a part of that change, if just so he could stand inside the snowy gates of Erebor and be fussed over by Bilbo and Gimli both. Legolas gave him a slow wink when Haldir turned to him.

“Bilbo’s got a garden now,” Gimli said proudly. “All green plants and things. We’ve been buildin’ it for a time, but the snow’s all but buried it.”

“Have you snow covers?” Haldir asked the little hobbit.

“I do. I just haven’t gotten them all up yet. Some of the plants, like my greeneries, will tolerate the snowfall, even appreciate it. Other plants are more delicate.”

“Then I offer my aid to your garden. It is the least I can do.” He still had a debt to pay, and he would pay it. To Dwalin, if he could, then to Gimli, both of whom had saved his life that day. But above all, he would offer himself to Bilbo, whose heroic actions had spared him his first intended fate.

He left the snow drifts behind and stepped into the warmth of Erebor.

Finis

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