Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing Bilbo hears is a ringing, bells in a constant echo, followed by the muffled sounds of a deep, rich voice. There is a bright yellow light as though his eyes are closed against the sun.

...open your eyes…

Oh, how he wants to obey that softly pleading voice. He feels cool water against his back, just above his ears, and his whole body is heavy. He can’t find the strength to open his eyes and that should be scary, but instead he is languid, and his eyelids have yet to cooperate.

The ringing comes to a crescendo, the light so bright it almost hurts… and then there is blue, and that voice again, gentler and only a bit more clear.

Open your eyes…

This time he does, and the voice repeats itself with a clear ring that fills Bilbo's chest. Above him he sees blue lights etched into stone, streams of them in a series of runes, like the roots of a tree spreading across the ceiling of the cavern. Blinking, and feeling the water drain around him, the voice becomes more insistent.

Wake up, Bilbo …

His name, he remembers. Obviously. His limbs still feel heavy, but as the water grows lower he can feel his body wake, his eyes adjusting to the light.

He waits for the voice, that oddly soothing yet insistent voice, but it remains quite. Looking around from the now completely drained pool, he just sees more of the same: blue lights, leading to blue runes, all glowing ethereally.

Sitting up, Bilbo realizes it is deathly quiet. It looks like a tomb, and it makes his heart wrench uncomfortably. How did I get here, he thinks. And why?

Water dripping down his shirtless, leanly muscled form, he pushes himself to the edge of the pool and off, finding his legs are not as weak as he expects, but steady. He looks down, studies himself; faint scars riddle his arms and chest, a pair of plain black shorts hang low on his hips. His feet are large, neatly hairy, but then again he is a Hobbit. Hobbit had those… and he feels a bit of pride in that easily remembered fact. If only he could recall more…

In front of him is a pedestal, which glows faintly blue and orange as he approaches. Seemingly awoken by his proximity, it turns and twists to reveal what looks like a mechanized book. A rune adorning the front glows, and Bilbo hears that voice again.

That is an Erborian Relic. Take it. It will guide you to us after your long slumber.

Hesitant, but trusting this familiar stranger in his head, Bilbo picks up the Relic. The stone slab shins, making some sounds like bells, and comes to life under his fingers. He watches it till the pedestal it once sat on begins to turn again, activating the door in front of him. With those stones lifting, he's granted access to the next room.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, but with a determination that is almost ingrained, Bilbo takes two deep breaths before securing the Relic to the band of his shorts and stepping forward through the door.

In this next room he finds chests with trousers and a shirt, all time-worn and ill-fitting but still, he's thankful for the modesty. He thinks he hears the voice in his head chuckle at this thought, but decides to ruefully ignore it. Approaching the next orange and blue pedestal, the voice instructs him to hold the Relic to it. As soon as he does, another bell tolls, and the room begin to shake.

The large door to the left of Bilbo twists and turns, and the stones pull away to reveal a light.

Suddenly, sun fills the cavern and the hobbit is automatically drawn to it like a beacon, like a lighthouse. He covers his eyes, and stops in the center of the doorway. He feels… almost apprehensive. Fearful even. Like stepping outside of this… tomb… would alter everything.

But then again, he had woken in a strange place with no memories. What did he have to lose?

The voice came to him again, more urgent than before but just as familiar, just as heartwarming. He sounds like home, Bilbo thinks.

Bilbo… you are the light - my light - that has to help us save Middle Earth again. Now please… return to us.

His eyes adjusting to this new light, he feels his feet moving forward on their own, without him deciding to do so. And then suddenly, he is running. He needs to feel the air, the sun, he wants to see what he has been missing for what feels like so long, though he still can't remember how much time he's spent asleep. He climbs the small ledge that separates him and the mouth of the cave, cavern, tomb, whatever, and then he is running out into the wild.

He feels almost breathless, a smile on his face as he keeps running, till he feels his toes reach the edge of a cliff. The ground is so warm, the cool breeze invigorating. Bilbo gulps air and tastes grass, clouds, flowers, everything. He feels welcomed, even if no one is there to say 'hello'.

To his left - the West? - he can see great forests and mountains, a vast orange desert perhaps, and to the right there are rolling hills and a smoke-filled tower, maybe a volcano. Then, he looks ahead, and gasps with emotion. He feels a deep recognition invade his bones as he looks upon a castle encased in mountain, mist covering to top. It feels important to look upon it, and as he does he feels both warmed and chilled, and this duality worries him. What did all this familiarity mean, when he couldn’t remember any of it?

Yet again overwhelmed, he gives into the moment of weakness and falls to his knees. Gasping quickly, he feels his lungs overfill with air. Just as he begins to take calming breaths, counting as he goes, he hears the twang of metal and looks to his right. There stands a hooded figure with a lantern, turning away from Bilbo, moving towards a fire under a canopy of rock.

Focusing on his breathing, Bilbo rises from his knees. He needs to stock up, to prepare - he feels so so hungry. And he is not disappointed.

Just on this hill he collects a plethora of edible herbs and mushrooms, as well as some tree branches that work as makeshift swords, at least till he can find something sharper to use for protection. The branch feels clumsy, but his fingers itch for anything that resembles a weapon. He wonders why.

Tentatively Bilbo descends the hill, the cavern/cave/tomb behind him. Beyond the hooded figure - which he can now tell was an old, bearded being, a very short Man perhaps - he sees withered buildings that look like holes in the ground and a large, decrepit temple.

Getting closer to the now lit fire and the old man, Bilbo sees a cooked apple on the ground, and his mouth waters. Oh, how he longed for food. Maybe, if he was sneaky…

And even as he silently tucks the baked apple into his pocket, the stranger yells at him.

“HEY Hey! I hope you’re not thinking of eating me out of all my well-earned apples!”

Bilbo stammers for words, his mouth feeling stale from the lack of use. “I-I’m sorry I just, I-” he isn't sure how to explain the kind of hunger that gnaws at his insides.

“HA HA,” the elder booms. “Nevermind, I couldn’t help but pull your leg. Please, feel free to sit and partake in my humble breakfast. An apple and fire make a lovely meal if you have nothing more to give yourself.”

Bilbo thanks the stranger and decides, after a brief consideration of what would be more polite, to sit by the fire, cautiously biting into the baked apple he had taken.

“Now, stranger. It’s nice to see another soul in these parts, not many around these days.”

Making a non-committal noise, because he isn't sure where these parts even were , Bilbo asks the stranger who he is.

“Well, I won’t bore you with my life story,” the elder says solemnly, with an air of sadness playing on his tone. “I’m just some old dwarf fool, who has lived here alone for quite some time… What brings a bright-eyed young hobbit like you to a place like this though, if I might ask?”

Rather than answer, because he truly has none, Bilbo replies with his own question. “Where exactly is this place?”

“Answering a question with a question, hmm? Fair enough, young hobbit.” The old dwarf sighs, looking down at the fire. The humor that was only a moment ago lighting his blue eyes diminishes. “Since I can feel our meeting is not a mere coincidence, I shall answer your questions. Or at least, those I can at this moment.” Gesturing out to the landscape, the dwarf continues. “This is the Great Plateau. Legend tells that this is the birthplace of Middle Earth, where all races sprung from the land or were molded from stone. That temple was where it all began, though it has been left to ruin since the decline of the Erborian kingdom almost 100 years ago.” The old man sighs, and mumbles almost to himself. “That temple has become a ruin, a sort of… ghost of its former self… Please,” he continues. “If you have anything else you wish to ask me, I will be here a while longer.”

Bilbo, wide eyed at the ramblings of the old man, swallows the last of his apple and stands. He's still hungry, but he knows his welcome has been outstayed and besides, he should look around. Then, startling him, that richly male voice calls to him again.

Bilbo… lightly a first, then more clear and insistent. Like orders.  Bilbo! You must hurry, proceed to the marked point in the Erborian Relic .

Well, this is all a bit rushed, Bilbo thinks, as he looks at the now marked map. He can see his destination lies down the rest of the hill, but he wants to explore. He takes his time, finding more apples and even climbing a tree - an easier task than he thought it might be - to find some bird eggs.

The closer he gets to the temple, which he feels he should visit first, the more he realizes he and his old dwarf informant were not alone. Scattered among the trail are goblins, foul beasts that should have been shrinking underground but had become emboldened. As Bilbo slashs at the one blocking his entrance to the ruined temple, he wonders why they littered the Plateau.

Giving a small huff as he picks up the scattered monster parts - just in case, he thinks - and the discarded wooden bat the goblin had dropped, Bilbo enters the temple.

Light pours in from the east, as the sun begins to set, and the dust in the air plays in that light. It’s beautiful, regal. In one of the hallways to his right Bilbo finds a rudimentary bow, and is thankful for it, though he wishes he had some arrows to make it useful… It’s no matter though. If he can’t find any on his own, he’ll take some from the nearest goblin bowman. Pride bursts in his chest at his own bravery, and he wonders if he’s always been this bold.

He approaches the middle of the temple, to find a great statue of a great bearded being, with a hammer held at his feet, and seven smaller versions standing around him… Aulë, Bilbo thinks. He knows this great being, the Maker, as the Dwarrow say.

Mahal … he hears a soft whisper in his head. That usually gruff voice is filled with emotion. Hurry to us, Bilbo .

With a deep breath, the hobbit bows his head to the statues, and he thinks, maybe, that he feels the sun at his side shine a tad bit brighter.

Further down the hill, and many goblins later, Bilbo sneaks up on two red monsters practicing their bowmanship. When they realize he’s upon them it’s too late, and their long-range weapons are no match for the sword he recently picked up from a felled goblin. The steel is warm and light between his fingers and it feels so right, so powerful. He parries and sweeps to the side with ease, surprising himself with what seems to be muscle memory.

The goblins surrounding it dispatched, Biblo approaches the large rock formation that had been marked on his map. There, in a small crevice of rock, stands another pedestal glowing orange. Looking at his Relic, he holds it up to the pedestal, and it falls into place. Slipping inside of it perfectly, the Relic and the pedestals rocks twist as one, the layers coming together, and words flash upon it. Bilbo reads it out loud, “Erborian Tower Activated. Please… watch for falling rocks?” Startled he looks up, a flash of blue light illuminating the Dwarrow runes above his head, and suddenly the earth is moving beneath his feet.

His whole body shakes, and he slips. Falling onto his back, his head is flung against the stone below him and for the first time since he left that… tomb… the world goes black.

Chapter Text

With a groan, and a rub at the newly formed bump on his head, Bilbo rises from where he had fallen. Thankfully none of those fallen rocks had pulverized him while he was passed out, he mused. Opening his eyes, he gasps, because he certainly did not expect to be so high off the ground when he woke.

From this height Bilbo can see… well he can see everything, perhaps even better than he had from the cliff side only a short time before. It makes him slightly ill, as he’s sure hobbits are not meant to be this high up, but he takes a few deep breaths and stands. The tower is glowing blue, and a new map has been… written, he supposed, to his Erborian Relic. This is the Plateau map, he realizes. As he studies it, he looks around, and wonders how he’ll get off the bloody crevice the land creates.

Remember, Bilbo…

The deep, rich voice calls to him again, in his mind but slightly to the left, and he looks to his side to see the castle, etched into the mountainside beyond. It seems so far away, yet from this height everything seems far. The mountain looks like it’s… sick, almost, with black and red mounds bursting from its side. A sharp shiver rolls up Bilbo’s back as he watches it, but he still can’t recall why it seems to mean so much.

Try to remember… you’ve been asleep for the past 100 years.

His eyes widen but before he can even begin to unpack that revelation, the ground shakes, and there are black and red swirls around the mountain, emanating from inside the castle.

That beast…

There is contempt and anger in the voice.

That foul worm has stolen our home and it only grows stronger. We can’t rest any longer or it’s power will be too great for us to defeat.

Bilbo gasps as he sees fire burst from the castle, billowing around the mountain till it turns to dark ash in the sky. He shudders as it dissipates, though the land around the mountain remains dark and choked in smoke.

Now then… let’s get on with it.

With an inexplicable sense of duty, Bilbo begins to descend the tower as quickly as he can, hopping from one platform to the next as though they were stairs for giants. He reaches the bottom only to be yelled at by the old dwarf he had spoken with earlier, flying down beside him on some kind of glider.

“My, my…” the dwarf begins. “It seems we have a sort of enigma here, unless you had that very tall tower hidden somewhere in your pocket.”

Bilbo gives a chuckle, as both he and his companion look to the tower beside them.

“Many others like this have erupted across the land, one after another. Almost as though… a long dormant power has awoken them…” he studies Bilbo warily, as though he was making up his mind about something very important. “I do apologize for prying, but… did something odd happen while you were atop that tower?”

Bilbo decides to answer with silence, unsure of whether or not the man should be trusted to know the voice in his head… or whether it would simply lead to embarrassment, or accusations of madness.

“Well, I see you’d rather not say. No matter, no matter. I should know better than to pry into the private life of hobbits,” the dwarf says with a smirk. He turns towards the mountain and castle. “I suppose you’ve seen the smoke and fire enshrouding the castle, hm? Those are the products of the dragon Smaug, greatest calamity of our lifetimes. That is the beast who brought the great palace of Erebor to ruin, stealing The Lonely Mountain with it. And many lives too,” he says with great weight. “As suddenly as a hurricane it came, the riches and technology of that great civilization calling out to it, for dragons covet gold with a dark greed. Its locked itself away within the walls of the castle, storing its strength and energy. But there is no telling when it could grow blood hungry, and bring more desolation to Middle Earth… yet none have dared to challenge him.” Again the old dwarf looks to Bilbo, searching for something. “Tell me, halfling. To you intend to do something about it?”

His eyes growing wide in surprise, Bilbo thinks for a second before replying, “well… well I suppose if no one else has tried… but it would be silly to go alone, I would think…” He trails off, not sure of himself.

“Hah!!!” The grey-bearded dwarf bellows a laugh. “You are certainly correct in that assessment! And what a sensible conclusion as well.” Gesturing towards the landscape, the dwarf turns to face Bilbo. “As you have probably seen, this Plateau is encased in cliffs, with no way down. If you were to jump, well. That’s as sure a death as any, and you’re not nearly that foolish. Of course,” he says with a sly smile,” if you had a paraglider like my own, it would be quite easy for you to get off into the land.”

“A paraglider?” Bilbo repeats the word before he can stop himself, giving away his great interest. Oh how he’s itching to get off this blasted Plateau.

“Ah, piqued your interest, hm? Well, worry not. I will happily part with my paraglider, but certainly not without a price.”

Bilbo gulped and his hands fell to his pockets. All he had were eggs and mushrooms and apples, though he had picked up a sword and bow from the goblins earlier… but he needed those…

“Put those thoughts out of your head, lad. I’m in no need of your wares. I speak of treasure, that is what I’m after, and my bones are too old to be finding it myself.” The elder pointed to a mound on the horizon, lit with those strange glowing embers just as the tower and the pedestals were, except this small formation was purely orange. “There, that structure began to glow as soon as that tower sprouted below you. Such an interested place must hide some equally interesting treasure, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so,” Bilbo replies, not sure what to expect from the protruding rock. He isn’t sure he likes the look of it, though it had that itching familiarity about it. He’s starting to get used to the feeling, though unhappily. He wishes he could simply remember.

“Well, let’s have you go find out, hm? Treasure for a paraglider… a fair exchange if I ever heard one.” Bilbo made no move to leave the dwarf’s side, instead thinking hard about whether or not he could simply demand the paraglider. “Get a move on, young hobbit! I won’t wait around forever.”

Taken out of his thoughts by a gentle shove from the dwarf, Bilbo begins to walk towards the orange-glowing structure.

-.-

Hesitantly approaching the structure, which looks oddly like a child had made a mountain out of dirt, Bilbo can see all the etchings and carvings glowing a bright orange. They’re beautiful, really, and as he places the Erborian Relic atop the pedestal, he braces for falling rocks.

But no rocks fall this time around.

Instead, the structures walkway and the pedestal itself glows a beautiful light blue, a bell-ringing sounds, and the stone wall that blocked the entryway falls away. Now there is a blue circle, which Bilbo hesitantly steps onto before being carried down below the ground. Dwarves, he thinks. Dwarves and their bloody tunnels .

The clouds of blue around him hold the stone circle so that the descent is careful and slow, and as soon as Bilbo steps off there is a voice in his head, but not one of words. Instead it is a low humming, yet the sound they produce springs a message in the mind of the hobbit, as if some divine force has projected them through song.

To you who sets foot in this shrine… My name is Alberich. In the name of Eru Ilúvatar and His children, I offer this trial …

Bilbo looks around once the humming subsides, and finds the room is empty besides a single pedestal and some steel tablets on the ground before him. Walking over to the pedestal, it is one that his Erborian Relic can slot itself into. Doing so, a process initiates that, to his surprise, gives no treasure besides a new… ability. That is the best way Bilbo can describe it to himself, as he activates it.

His hands glow red as he activates this new part of his Relic, and he feels a strength running through his arms. Looking at the steel tablets still in the middle of the room, Bilbo approaches them and lifts hesitantly.

With minimal effort, the tablet, certainly too large for a normal Hobbit to maneuver, is lifted and thrown to the side.

Bilbo huffs as the red glow leaves his hands, and smiles triumphantly. This is an interesting turn of events , he thinks, and then proceeds to jump down the tunnel he’s opened.

-.-

At the end of the trial, Bilbo is a bit sweaty and tired, though adrenaline is still coursing through the hobbits veins. He had just faced his first… Guardian, he supposes. Though it was certainly smaller than he had expected. Some notion in the back of his mind tells him that they are meant to be much, much bigger.

But as he looks up to the resting place of Alberich, who looks to be a well-adorned but shriveled and emaciated dwarf sitting on a simple stone throne, he’s overcome with a sense of peace and awe. The chamber glows ethereally, countless lines of resplendent blue, with a Dwarven rune in the middle.

Bilbo touches the rune, and in an instant the blue lines separating the dwarf Alberich from the world beyond breaks into hundreds of thousands of small blue stripes of light. They hang in the air around them, and the humming Bilbo had heard as he first entered returns.

You have proven yourself to possess the resolve of a true hero. I am Alberich, the creator of this trial. Blessed with the strength of twelve Men by Mahal, I gift unto you the power of this strength, and the responsibility of wielding it against the evils of Melkor the Discordant.

Bilbo shivers at the name, though he knows nothing of it. He looks down at his hands and remembers the faint red glow they had as he wielded the gift of strength.

In the name of Eru Ilúvatar and his children, allow me to bestow this gift upon you. With it, you shall feel the strength of my spirit flow through you.

The hobbit watches as a glowing orb leaves the chest of the ancient dwarf and falls in front of his own, and Bilbo gasps as it breaks. In its wake it leaves streaks of light, which descend into his chest, and again Bilbo gasps as the air is stolen from his lungs. It is a sensation like falling, or wind blowing so heavily into your face that the air moves too quick to breathe. And then, it fades into the heavy beating of his own heart. He looks up to Alberich as the humming resumes.

May you be blessed in the songs of the Ainur…

And with that, the vessel of the ancient dwarf seems to dissolve into bright yellow dust, as though being swallowed by sunlight, until Bilbo is alone in the cave. Blinking rapidly and taking a few deep gulps of air, he nods solemnly in a mock goodbye to the spot the dwarf once sat. Turning on his heel, he moves to exit the shrine.

.-.

Upon his exit, Bilbo is met with bright sunlight and a whoop from a familiar voice.

The elderly dwarf who sent him along the path to the shrine glides down with his paraglider, landing neatly in front of the hobbit.

“Ah, my friend! It seems you’ve managed to get your hands on a spirit orb! Well done!”

“Now how in the hell would you know that,” Bilbo questions gruffly, surprising even himself with his language. It’s no matter though, he hates being snuck up on and that’s all this flying dwarf has done as of late.

“Clairvoyance, my boy!” The dwarf laughs at his own joke. “Or something closely resembling. You see, as one gets older it can become quite tricky to see what is right before one’s own eyes. However, that which was once hidden from view can often be crystal clear. You’ve got some new strength in your bones, I can see it!”

Bilbo suspects that is as good of an answer he is going to get, and huffs in response.

“Now these towers, the shrines, they are all connected to that Erborian Relic on your hip there,” the elderly dwarf points to the tablet on Bilbo’s belt.

Itching to simply ask for the paraglider, Bilbo stifles his annoyance and instead proceeds with politeness. “What do you mean by that?”

“It has been quite some time since I’ve seen an Erborian Relic,” the dwarf begins wistfully. “Long ago, a highly advanced clan of Dwarves known as Erborians inhabited the Lonely Mountain, and they had strongholds across the land, known as ‘shrines’. Their great strength and wisdom saved the lands time and time again from destruction… But,” his tone grows saddened. “Their glory and technology has disappeared, and with it their people. Or so it is said.”

The elder dwarf observes the Relic at Bilbo’s hip once more before continuing..

“It is certainly interesting though, to think how something like that survived all this time, hidden away in a shrine… There are numerous shrines tucked away throughout the land, each a testament to the power Erebor once wielded. On this plateau alone I believe there are three more…” the elder looked at Bilbo with a raised eyebrow, almost in challenge. “Bring me the treasure in each of those shrines, and I will gladly give you my paraglider.”

Bilbo sputtered. “But that, that wasn’t the deal we started with!”

“No? Oh well I suppose I’ve changed my mind. Fickle in my old age you see,” the elder shrugged, unbothered. “Shouldn’t be a challenge for a strong young lad like yourself. Since I’m feeling generous, I’ll teach you a trick to finding the shrines…”

And with that, Bilbo proceeds to learn about how he can use the Erborian Relic as a looking glass into the distance, and mark points on the map to guide himself. It’s quite clever and convenient, and though he wonders how the old dwarf knows so much about the Relic, Bilbo decides not to think too deeply about it. He has shrines to inspect, after-all.