Author's Note – Original Prompt by Anonymous: The Company is reincarnated into the modern era. Only one of the company (Bilbo? Gandalf? Thorin?) remembers and knows that he has to find the others and trigger each their memories with a different object/situation/whatever. Basically, I'd like to see what the individual memory triggers are.

Darkness Reborn

"Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

A distinguished looking white-haired man in a business suit stood and stared at the sign for a long moment before humming in disapproval. Lips pursed, half-hidden in a neatly trimmed beard, as his mind ruminated on the message. It was true enough in its own way, at least for individual men, but how absurd they were to limit it so. The teaching belonged not only to this generation, but to the entire race of Man. Empires rose and fell because men refused to acknowledge simple truths – even the most basic of truths.

Evil existed.

It existed in the hearts of all sentient beings, yes, but it also existed in and of itself. People thought to explain it away with their new psychology or medicate it away with their new drugs. Every generation attempted the same – every generation failed. Every generation presumed they knew so much more than their forefathers. The man turned from the poster, shaking his head. For untold millennia he would visit the world of Men, sometimes happy, sometimes not at the changes wrought, but always he remained a step back – a mere spectator. The time for his direct involvement had long since passed.

And yet…

The signs began to appear once more – signs familiar, yes, but also signs unwelcome. Signs he had not seen since before the turning of the age. As they grew clearer, he had been instructed to visit and walk the world once more to learn if something beyond the ken of men threatened all life once more. He explored and searched and researched…and he came to one overwhelming conclusion. The world prepared for the return of an ancient evil…and those who would serve that evil began to prepare as well.

Then one day on the cover of a magazine…he saw the surest sign of all.

Red-gold hair slicked back from a ruddy complexion; sly brown eyes glittered with golden flecks. The very picture of health, a man both familiar and unfamiliar stared out of the glossy page: 'Famous or Infamous? Wealth, rumors, and suspicions abound in Drake Benedict's life. Just who is this man?' A ridiculous title. The white haired man gave a soft snort. As if a journalist, no matter how enterprising or determined, would figure out that answer! Let the red-haired billionaire call himself 'Drake' or whatever he wanted – he could not hide his true self from those with the eyes to see.

Smaug, fire drake from the North, had returned in human form and appeared to be up to his old tricks – with more cunning and less fire perhaps, but still possessing a dark and twisted desire for gold.

"Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

Once more the white haired fellow turned back to the poster and considered the words upon it. Words echoed in his mind, words spoken by a rich feminine voice: "History became legend. Legend became myth."

His own voice whispered through the air. "And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost." The world had long since forgotten the truth of dragons, let alone Dwarves, Elves, and Wizards.

It appeared he would need to set things in motion yet again to defeat a dragon. For surely, if Smaug was here, than so to should the Company be reborn – for theirs the fate to deal with him, regardless of the Age. How they would deal with this incarnation…that was hidden from him for now, but it mattered not. First things first: he had to find them. The world needed the fourteen of them once more.

Thorin Oakenshield and his Company needed to be awakened once more.

He could still see them in his mind's eye, thirteen Dwarves and their Hobbit. Proud Thorin stood in front of his nephews, the adventuresome Fíli and the exuberant Kíli, acting as both leader and father-figure. Near them one would always find wise Balin and hot-tempered Dwalin, kinsmen to the royal line. The same held true for their cousins, the canny Ôin and suspicious Glôin. Shy Ori would have his brothers flanking him as crafty Nori and the fussy Dori sought to protect their younger brother. Three more Dwarves rounded out the thirteen – unstable Bifur, optimistic Bofur, and the quiet Bombur.

They made for quite the merry gathering.

The thought brought to mind the fourteenth member of their band of adventurers. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End would forever hold a special place in his heart – indeed, in the hearts of all those who remembered the ending of the Third Age. A Hobbit, one of the settled and peace-loving Shire-folk, who had been accorded respect and honor by the mighty across three Races, Bilbo once touched the one of the greatest evil relics to ever foul the surface of the earth and yet he remained, for the most part at least, a good and honorable soul. The Company would need him.

Gandalf, called Gabriel McKellen in this age of Men, nodded to himself. His work began anew, signaling yet again the approach of an end. A new Age prepared to dawn and its shape could well be decided by the new confrontation between the Company and the Dragon.

Eru help them all.

"Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

It took several months, but Gandalf finally found the first of those he sought. Another three weeks went by before he could get into see the man, though perhaps that should not be so surprising. The man did happen to be the only heir to two large companies – the Aiken Mining Company and Durward Jewelers. No doubt his schedule was full – between management issues and meetings and who knew what all – but that did not prevent Gandalf from grumbling as he took a seat across from the man.

"You're a difficult man to get a hold of, Mr. Armitage," he groused.

"A deliberate choice, Mr. McKellen. Too many people attempt to lay claim to my time." Thorne Armitage lifted an eyebrow at his guest. "You spoke of a stone that belonged to my family?"

Gandalf gave a quiet harrumph and looked at his host. Short black hair streaked at the temples in gray gave him a look of distinction and he stood a good deal taller than his previous incarnation, but Gandalf would have known him for the blaze in his eyes. This man knew hardship – heir or no – and he appeared to be no stranger to hard work. Good, he would need all of the fire he could muster. "I did," Gandalf nodded in agreement, opening his briefcase and pulling out a small leather pouch. "I did indeed." He held out the small bag. "I return that which has long been held in anticipation of this day."

Sharp blue eyes looked him over as the other man reached out and accepted the offering. "And how did you come into possession of this if it should be with…" Thorne's voice trailed off as he pulled out the glowing gem famous in ages past as the Arkenstone. A shiver ran through the tall frame and the dark head dipped for a moment before the lines of his body straightened once more. New authority and old wisdom slid into place beside one another as his eyes focused on Gandalf once more. "Gandalf."

"Hail and well met, Thorin, King under the Mountain," Gandalf replied, a small hint of a smile hovering over his lips.

"Why?"

Gandalf did not pretend to misunderstand the simple and yet complex question. "The Company is needed," he replied, simple and forthright. The man before him knew the ways of Wizards and would respect honesty more. Reaching into his bag, Gandalf pulled out a magazine and set it in front of Thorne, face up. "The turn of an Age is coming."

Thorne leaned forward, examining the face on the cover. An icy gaze swept up to meet the Wizard's soft look of concern. He sighed and tapped his fingers on the magazine. "Smaug."

"Yes."

"And you would have me deal with him?" Thorne lifted his brows in question.

"I would. He will not fool you as he has done so many others." The Wizard paused. "But I would not have you do it alone. Never alone," Gandalf told him, a sparkle of mischief entering his gaze. "After all, a dragon is a bit much for one man…even one in human form. I would think a group would be better…a veritable Company in fact."

A new light, one of hope, flickered in Thorne's eyes. "My friends? My Kin?"

"I'm tracking them down now," Gandalf reassured him. "The bond between you…it has a unique feel to it and I am able to trace it. I'm getting close to them…very close."

"And Bilbo?"

It was Gandalf's turn to flick an eyebrow. "Is he not counted among your 'friends'? Or is he something else entirely?"

A faint flush of shame dusted Thorne's cheeks. "I count him as friend, but he-"

"He forgave you."

"I know." The whispered words rang with a confused uncertainty.

"Fear not," the Wizard rapped his knuckles on the arm of his chair. "Hobbits were really quite remarkable creatures, and I doubt he's lost any of the qualities that make him 'Bilbo'. I look forward to finding him – along with the others."

Now a smile glimmered through the short, neatly trimmed beard. "So do I," Thorne nodded. "So do I." His eyes fell once more on the glowing stone in the center of its desk. "Gandalf, the Arkenstone..."

"It has been cleansed," Gandalf replied. "No longer shall it be a source of temptation or danger to anyone save through beauty alone."

"Dangerous enough," Thorne huffed, but real amusement threaded through his voice.

"True, as all beautiful things can be, but I think you will not let such affect you," Gandalf mused. "Not in this life."

"No, not in this life," agreed Thorne. "My failure in the past caused enough damage. I will not repeat it now."

"Let us not dwell on it either," Gandalf told him in a gentle voice. "You have paid for any failures of the past and they are not shadows to darken the present. Your memories were not returned as a punishment, but as a guide. You would not have grasped the danger so quickly were you not reminded of the truth."

Thorne closed his eyes and remained silent for several long moments. His shoulders straightened and his mouth grew firm. "Agreed," he nodded as he opened his eyes once more. His gaze flickered from Gandalf to the Arkenstone. Placing the stone back in its leather bag, he moved to a wall safe and tucked it away. "Let it remain there until needed or the world ends," he murmured.

A hint of pride entered Gandalf's expression, only to be wiped away before it could be seen. "When I find your kith and kin, where shall I direct them?"

"Where….?" Thorne mused on the question before his face lit with an idea. "I have a place in Colorado," he told Gandalf. "Let them go there. It will be private and we can discuss things openly without worrying about prying eyes or eavesdropping ears."

"No Gamgees then," Gandalf muttered, amusement twitching his lips.

"Who?" Thorne gave him a confused frown as he jotted down the location and directions on a sheet of paper.

"Never mind," the old man laughed. "An old memory. Very well then," he nodded, accepting the information. "I shall continue my search while you prepare for visitors."

"If they come." A shadow passed over Thorne's face. "One dragon is enough in any lifetime."

"They will come," Gandalf assured him, his voice saturated with confidence. "I will all but guarantee it."

"Let's hope you're right." Thorne folded his arms over his chest. "One thing I did learn the last time – I can't do this alone."

Gandalf nodded, giving a shallow bow of his head before leaving the once, and possibly future, king. He breathed a sigh of relief. "One down," he murmured. "Thirteen to go."