Chapter Text
Sunlight streams down on Bilbo's face. This is a nice way to wake up! Quite pleasant. He can't feel any of the terrible rocking of the ship they had taken out of the Grey Havens, and his mind feels especially clear. For that matter, all the normal aches and pains he lives with as such an old hobbit (131! Even older than Old Took!) seem to be completely, miraculously gone.
Now that he thinks about it, he can't hear his shipmates, nor smell the sea. Nor should there be sunlight on his face, as the room he's been given on the ship doesn't have any windows in it. The bed he is lying in is also much softer, and stretching his legs and hands around, he finds it is also hobbit-sized, rather than the narrow but ridiculously long beds the ship has for the elves on it. Slowly, Bilbo blinks his eyes open and looks around.
Bag-End! He's lying in bed in his old room. Not just any old room, but his bedroom as it was before he left for Erebor! The quilt on his bed was one of the items he had never bothered to recover from the ill-fated Sackville-Baggins auction of his possessions: it was Aunt Mirabella's wedding gift to his parents, and purchased by her daughter, cousin Primula. By the time it returned to Bag-End nearly fifty years later, it was placed on Frodo's bed instead.
The hobbit startles out of bed, rushing over to the day planner he keeps on the vanity. Before the quest to Erebor, his life had been quite sedate. He had kept a meticulous social calendar so as to not forget any of the frankly boring tea dates he maintained as part of the unofficial running of Hobbiton and the official running of the Baggins family. The date reads 2 Winterfilth, 1340, and Bilbo laughs. It's the day after his fiftieth birthday, and except for collecting the month's rents and tithes for the previous, generally the two weeks after his birthday are kept clear to allow him a small spot of a holiday. It doesn't hurt most of the families of Hobbiton are busy finishing up the harvest before winter starts during the following month, besides.
He had seven months to prepare for the arrival of his dwarrow. Bilbo comes stuttering to a stop. Thorin's alive. Thorin is alive. Thorin is alive.
Bilbo's eyes slowly flutter open. Is that a crack in his ceiling? Why is he lying in the hallway anyways?
That's right, he fainted when he realised that Thorin is still alive while heading to the kitchen. Fíli and Kíli are as well. With a small frown, he also realises that none of his own surrogate nephews will even be born for ages. Frodo, who was the oldest and leader of the four, won't be born for nearly three decades. (The youngest, Pippen, won't be born for fifty years.) For that matter, Drogo won't come of age before Bilbo leaves, so he can't very well leave his favourite cousin's future father in charge while he's gone.
As Bilbo finally makes it into the kitchen to start cooking Breakfast, he realises something. He doesn't need a Baggins in Bag-End to handle the needs of Hobbiton. He can leave the head of family matters to Uncle Longo, which is completely proper and respectable, and ask Holman Greenhand, his friend and gardener, to keep Hobbiton running smoothly while he's gone. He had done as much the first time, but leaving him with actual instructions and a key (as well as a purse of funds for possible emergencies) would be much better planning. He should approach Drogo about being his apprentice sooner rather than later, so when he leaves the smial to the lad it won't seem so unusual. Besides, learning how to be responsible for the town's emergency food supplies might teach him some moderation before he passes from rotund into dangerously large.
He'll contact Drogo about the apprenticeship, asking his parent's permission to foster him from the start of Blotmath through the end of Rethe, while he's out collecting the rents for Winterfilth and tithings from Halimath today. Tomorrow, he'll leave for Bree. He needs to order some supplies for pick-up by Astron. As he sets his now cooked breakfast on the table, pouring his first cup of tea for the day, Bilbo has an idea. He'll tell everyone he's planning a trip to Rivendell, for which he intends to leave in early Thrimidge so as to reach the valley of the elves by Mid-Year. If Gandalf remembers, he'll see the cover for what it is, and if he doesn't, he'll just use it as an excuse to try to push Thorin to visiting Rivendell.
Not that the dwarrow need Elrond to read the map for them. All Khuzdul is ancient dwarven, as they teach it methodically to their youth in the same manner it has been taught for millennia, well after they learn Iglishmek and Westron. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur had the most daily practice before the quest, since it's the only thing Bifur can speak and write. Ori supposed in a letter he had written to Bilbo that he had learned Khuzdul during the first age. Several dwarrow had befriended elven craftsmen during the First Age, and dwarf-friends may be taught such secrets. Bilbo could read the map at this point, since Elrond spent the last twenty years teaching it to Bilbo in secret. The elven lord had believed he should be dwarf-friend despite the Arkenstone calamity.
Bilbo finishes planning as he cleans up after his meal. He'll have to retrain his swordsmanship in secret, which will be difficult with Drogo living with him. Training with small stones and daggers will be easier, especially since small game hunting in winter is considered sensible, so long as the river hasn't frozen. He will need a good excuse for growing his hair out, though he did just get it cut two days ago in preparation for his birthday. It will be completely improper for a male hobbit come Astron. He'll start making non-perishable travel rations in Astron, as well as buffering his pantry for the feast he'll need come Thrimidge.
Suddenly, Bilbo realises just how irresponsible he had been last time. Not that he never thought on it before. Did Gandalf even consider the responsibilities he had abandoned for his dwarrow? He knows that none of them knew until his last visit from Balin, before he set out to retake Khazad-dûm. Nor had they known that Gandalf had only arrived with his offer that morning before they did, and had been turned away. Should Gandalf's duplicity, as well intentioned as it is, be exposed for the dwarrow to see?