Chapter Text
Of all the tales in Arda, there was none so tragic as the history of hobbits.
A gentle race, with affinity towards nature and all things living. Some believed this affinity to be magical, while others believed the Valar’s favor reflected in any land hobbits dwelled. They were small and soft creatures, with large feet and curled hair. They were called simple beings, though they were far from simple-minded. Clever and resourceful, their wit rivalled that of high elves. If rumor was true greed had no place in their hearts. You could not bribe a halfling with gold or jewels. They held no desire for power or position. A comfortable hearth and a happy home were all the hobbits needed.
This gentle and trusting nature was a source of affection and fear for a certain grey wizard. He’d watched over the children of Yavanna since the very beginning. Protected them from the evil things of the world that sought to destroy creatures so pure. Because of their gentleness and stature halflings were practically defenseless on their own, so the grey wizard made an arrangement between dwarrow and hobbits that benefitted them both.
Beside the great dwarrow mountain Erebor a city was built for the little creatures. An alliance was made between the Hobbit Thain and King Drerin son of Durin. The halflings would till the earth around the mountain, providing food, cloth, and medicine for the thousands of dwarrow within the mountain, and in exchange the hardy warriors would guard them against any and all threats.
The land around Erebor was rich and fruitful. The men of Dale and elves of Greenwood thrived off trade with the alliance, and the golden age of the north was something scholars would write about for centuries.
It would have continued if a shining white stone had not been unearthed within the mountain. They called it the King’s Jewel. The greatest stone ever crafted by Aule and the Heart of the Mountain. Lords of other Dwarrow kingdoms traveled to see the marvel of the stone. Even the lofty elves of the forests were besotted with the beauty of the glittering gem.
By the time the curse of such beauty was discovered, it was already too late.
A sickness fell upon the dwarrow of Erebor. Mad with greed and suspicion, they closed the grand gates and locked themselves away with their treasure. Taking the protection of the Hobbits with them. King Thror was the most heavily afflicted, going so far as to imprison his own son in paranoia. The halflings did their best to defend themselves against the opportunistic orcs and goblins, but the nature of evil was upon them quickly. Hundreds were dead before the Thain sent an envoy to the mountain gates to plead with the Mad King for entrance.
Driven by suspicion and greed, King Thror only saw enemies at his gate and made a decree that the race of dwarrow would languish over for centuries. The great army of dwarrow fell upon the hobbits that day. Perhaps if the grey wizard had not been away and the men of Dale had not been so ignorant, the halflings would have survived. As it were, the small beings fell by the thousands to dwarrow swords.
It wasn’t until a man named Girion snuck into the dwarrow King’s chambers and stole the stone, delivering it to the White council to be destroyed that the curse and madness were lifted. Free from the haze of sickness, the entire Kingdom of Erebor wept. King Thror ordered his own execution as penance.
But it was already too late.
In place of cheerful meals and a peaceful settlement was ash.
No living Hobbit was found.
For nearly a century the race of Dwarrow searched in hope for survivors. Pleading with Mahal that they didn’t extinguish an entire race in their madness. But they searched in vain.
Guilt and shame filled all dwarf hearts, and in a single day men and elves learned to hate the mountain dwellers. The very land around the mountain turned black in grief, and with no halflings to heal it, it seemed a new curse of Erebor befell them in revenge.
Hobbits became a thing of legend.
Hundreds of miles south, in a hidden hole in the ground, a hobbit was preparing his dinner.
_
Bilbo Baggins inspected the brambles covering the entrance to his home with a keen eye. The green leaves were young, just out of bloom. Not yet thick enough to completely hide the door behind them if one were to look close enough, but still dense enough an eye would pass over the unassuming plant at first glance. Satisfied, the young hobbit started his usual morning trek to the river to empty his fishing nets.
He had a simple life amid the Shire. Protected as it was by large hills and thick shrubbery, he lived in peace with nature. Filled his stomach by foraging and hunting, and always returning to the safe smial his father built his mother as soon as they settled here. Here in these hills hid the last hobbits of Arda. All descendants of the lucky who escaped the wrath of the dwarves over two centuries ago.
The hobbits had adapted much in that time. Instead of learning to culture fields, their precious few young were taught how to run quickly and hide silently. They taught themselves how to burrow underground and use nature to shield them from sight.
Bilbo was very good at these lessons, as he needed to be. His home was on the border closest to the town of Bree, a men’s settlement. His mother was one of the few hobbits that knew how to use a sword, and his understanding father had built the underground safe haven in its location so she could help warn and defend their kin. Belladonna had taught her son all she could before one harsh winter had stolen her from him. Bungo falling soon after.
The responsibility to protect his kin fell on the young Master Baggins before he reached his first majority. Now two years after, he had settled into his role and was praised for his hunting and sneaking skills. Despite being underage, he was already a respected member of the council and contributing member of their little band of refugees.
Now if only those skills and maturity would help him catch more fish.
Bilbo frowned at his empty nets. Cursing in the Green Tongue his downstream kin who no doubt copied his tactic and had full nets. Rolling his eyes, he marched toward his still blossoming raspberry bushes to make sure the heavy winter hadn’t killed his favorite fruit bush. The earth still felt happy and healthy around the young bush, so he continued on his way, smiling at the rabbit that decided to travel next to him.
This particular young brown hare had been following him around for several weeks now. He’d grown soft on the fluffy creature and ruefully admitted that it was too cute to make into dinner. He had enough stores anyway. Mother Yavanna always made sure he had just enough to keep his belly full. The rabbit, which he’d named Big Ears, bounced along in front of him, making him smile.
“Someone is in a good mood today.” He remarked, the flowing tongue of his people making his little friend flick its ears back. “Must be the pretty doe I saw yesterday. You make a new friend?”
He took the small nose twitch as a confirmation and laughed. “I’m sure she’s enchanted by such a handsome rabbit as you. You should go after her.”
Bilbo reached his hidden doorway, carefully lifting the bramble to uncover the entrance to his home. The sneaky rabbit shot into the smial and Bilbo followed soon after, making sure to properly cover the doorway behind him.
“Maybe I should cook you!” he called, smiling despite himself. It felt good to have company. Even if the said company was a fluffy rabbit. The smial was always too quiet and cold for his taste. He doubted he’d ever get used to it. All he had to entertain himself was the few books about hobbit traditions and family trees his father insisted were more valuable than anything else they owned.
It was lonely.
Bilbo sighed as he headed for the kitchen. It did no good to dwell on it. He should be grateful he never saw any excitement anymore. Being lonely meant the hobbits were still hidden. Lonely meant he was safe. If his solitude was the price he had to pay to keep his people safe, then it was worth it. Even if there was a constant ache in his chest and a childish plea for companionship on his tongue whenever he visited the great smial.
It was fine.
He liked being alone.
It barely felt like a lie.
-
Kili stared in awe at the unassuming bramble bush the little golden creature and his pet rabbit disappeared beneath. The thin branches he was hidden within obscured his view. He had to bite his tongue to stifle a cheer. They’d done it! They’d actually found one!