Behind the Mists of Legend.
Part One: Chapter One
By the year 2941, it was clear that the situation in the North was becoming increasingly unstable. The Eldar in the North had sequestered themselves into two small enclaves; the Grey Havens and Imladris. Dwarfs still mined the Blue Mountains and the Iron Hills, but both Khazad-Dum and Erebor were abandoned.
As far as Men were concerned, the collapse of Arnor had left them in near-anarchy. Eriador and Rhovanion were patchworks of small communities who were either insular or warlike. The remnant of the Kingdom of Dale clung on in Esgaroth, relying on trade and fishing. The Beornings made a living by keeping open the High Pass and the Ford of Carrock and charging travellers hefty tolls for doing so. Other small and scattered communities made the best they could of the situation. The only organised force were the Rangers of Arnor, a group or order of skilled scouts and fighters for hire; honourable and highly-regarded even among the other mercenary bands of the time.
It was a state of affairs that could not continue.…
The Red Book of Westmarch, Vol I Chapter V
The Shire: 16th Gwaeron 2941 KR
Bilbo Baggins watched the tall figure make his way up Bagshot Row. It wasn't all that unusual for one of the Big Folk to be seen in the Shire, but here and now it was out of place. Men, Dwarfs and occasionally Elves were welcome visitors to the Shire townships such as Hobbiton, Tuckborough, Bucklebury and Michel Delving on market days, when there was buying and selling to be done. But today was not a market day and Bywater was not a market town.
The Man coming up the road was tall, if a little bent, dressed in grey with a blue hat. He had a long silver beard and carried a staff, but did not lean on it. He walked surprisingly swiftly for one of his apparent years, and seemed to know exactly where he was going, marching directly up to Bilbo's gate. Without hesitation, he opened the gate, came up the garden path and stopped in front of the bench Bilbo was sitting on.
For a moment, the two measured each other. The Man had a lined, seamed face with a great beak of a nose and dark, fierce eyes. The Halfling, apparently at ease, had the round face of his race, but none of the jowliness that normally began to develop in one of his age. There was a stern set to the jaw, and the blue eyes missed nothing. Dressed in the normal breeches, shirt and coloured waistcoat, he showed an absence of paunch uncommon among Halflings, and the rolled-up shirt-sleeves revealed corded forearms that promised unusual strength.
"Am I addressing Captain Bilbo Baggins?" The Man said in a deep, authoritative voice.
Bilbo took his pipe from his mouth. "You are." He replied. "But you must have known that already. Either that or you're a good guesser!"
"A little of both." Was the answer. "I was given your address, of course. As to the rest, when I see a Halfling sitting outside in shirt-sleeves on a cool morning in Rethe, I assume him to be tougher than most, or at least more accustomed to being outdoors. Even the farmers here wear jackets at this time of year.
"Allow me to present myself. My name is…"
"I know who you are, Master Gandalf." Bilbo told him. "In my line of work it pays to keep track of certain people."
Gandalf appeared unruffled by the revelation, merely remarking. "If you know who I am, then you know enough to tell your Sergeant to take his hand off his knife and his eyes off my back before I set his toes alight!"
Bilbo grinned and flicked a hand-signal at Sergeant Holman Gamgee, who had come quietly up the path behind the visitor.
"Being careful has kept me alive and healthy in a risky trade." He noted. "You have a reputation for direct action, Master Gandalf, so you'll excuse my precautions.
"Now I don't suppose you're here for a social visit, but let's go indoors. We can be quiet there and I could do with a cup of tea.
"Sergeant, make sure we're not interrupted!"
They sat in the kitchen, Gandalf glanced around him. "Modest set-up for one of the best-known mercenary leaders in Eriador!" He noted.
Bilbo shrugged. "I could live for another hundred years, Master Gandalf, but I probably won't be able to work for more than another forty or so. I'd rather live well and put a bit by than live high and starve in my old age.
"The Rangers may suit those draughty stone Keeps, and the Tooks and Brandybucks might like to cover the walls with trophies. but I'm a businessman, not an aristocrat!
"Now, why are you here? You could have gone to my office in Hobbiton and made an appointment, you know."
"Two reasons." Gandalf replied. "In the first place, the matter is time-sensitive, we need to get underway quickly. In the second, it's very confidential, and there are always ears around in the town. There are folk here in the Shire who do business with some odd customers, and I'd rather certain things didn't reach certain ears before I'm ready for them to."
"And in the third, you wanted to give me the once-over in person, right?" Bilbo told him. "I know your methods. You're more hands-on than most of the principals I deal with."
"I've been caught out before." Gandalf allowed. "In any event, I'm not the actual principal here. More of an advisor. If you want to meet the principal, be at the Prancing Pony in Bree the day after tomorrow at about noon. They'll be expecting you.
"Thanks for the tea, and hopefully I'll see you in a day or two."
He left. Bilbo had another cup of tea and thought about it. Business had been slack lately, and there'd been rumours he didn't like the sound of at all. Knowing what he did about his recent visitor, he suspected that these two things were somehow connected. In any event, attending a meeting would do no harm. He might learn something, and he didn't have to commit to anything.
The Prancing Pony, Bree: 18th Gwaeron 2941 KR
Bilbo was known in the Pony, it was a neutral place where business was done by many mercenary leaders. The Butterbur family – who had owned and run the Inn since Bree was founded – saw the provision of private meeting places and the necessary discretion about certain guests as a profitable sideline. Harald Butterbur, the current Innkeeper, recognised Bilbo and Holman, and immediately led them through to a room at the back of the large building.
Beside the door was a table with two chairs, two mugs, a jug of ale and a large plate of bread and cheese. Sitting at the table was a Dwarf in a green hooded cloak – the hood thrown back - who rose to his feet as they approached.
"Captain Baggins?" He asked.
Bilbo nodded. "That's me. This is Sergeant Gamgee."
The Dwarf bowed. "Balin at your service." He replied. "They're waiting for you inside, Captain. If the Sergeant would care to stay here with me, I'm sure a snack would be in order?"
The room was spacious but plain. A table was set in the centre, with a chair either side of it. Standing behind one of the chairs was a Dwarf, Behind him, against the wall, were two more. In one corner, in a carved chair, Gandalf was sitting, smoking a long pipe and apparently half-asleep.
The Dwarf behind the table was taller than most, wore blue and silver, had a square-cut black beard and fierce, probing eyes. He bowed to Blibo.
"Thorin Oakenshield at your service." He said formally.
Bilbo returned the bow and replied equally formally. "Bilbo Baggins at yours and your familys'."
"Thank you for coming, Captain Baggins." Thorin said, then gestured to the table. "Shall we sit?"
Almost in unison, they both reached out, turned the chairs around, and sat down on them, resting their arms on the backs. There was a chuckle, quickly suppressed, from the two Dwarfs standing against the wall. Bilbo took no notice, he was taking stock of Thorin.
Thorin Oakenshield, grandson and heir apparent of the last King Under the Mountain, was one of the wealthiest and most highly-regarded ironmasters of the Blue Mountains. His goods, in the form of either raw ingots or forged items, were in demand across Eriador, not only for their quality but because, unlike other Dwarf ironmasters, he charged a fair price.
But before he had settled in the Blue Mountains, Thorin had made a reputation as a fighter. The prolonged war with the Orcs of the Misty Mountains had established him as a stalwart warrior in his own right, and as a steady, if not brilliant, leader of others. He had earned his nickname at the Battle of Azanulbizar, where he had built a number of large wooden shields mounted on wheels. Under the cover of these, he had been able to bring up his ballistae to within bowshot of the Orcish fortifications, where the artillery – protected from arrows -had been able to create several breaches for the Dwarf infantry.
Which still left two questions; why was he here, and what did he want with Bilbo?
"Master Gandalf you know." Thorin began. "He's been helping me on this matter, though what his stake in it is, I have no idea.
"The youngsters behind me are my nephews, Fili and Kili. Their ancestors were the personal guard of the Kings Under the Mountain, and they take their traditional responsibilities seriously. It seems I am too frail and venerable to be left alone in the company of two such well-known rascals as Gandalf and yourself!"
The young Dwarfs were grinning, looking at their uncle with expressions that expressed affection rather than simple loyalty. They were twins, almost impossible to tell apart, which was unusual. Dwarfs were not a greatly fertile people, and multiple births were rare.
"But to business." Thorin said. "I am mounting an expedition, Captain Baggins, and I need your help!"
"An expedition?" Bilbo asked. "Where to and why?"
"We're going to Erebor, to take back my kingdom." Thorin told him simply.
"I see." Bilbo said. "Now, please correct me if I am wrong, but something less than two hundred years ago -2770 of the Kings' Reckoning, if I recall - a Dragon named Smaug, supported by a host of Orcs, attacked Dale and Erebor, destroyed the city and seized the Mountain, driving you, your father and grandfather into exile with the remnants of their people.
"Smaug and his Orcs have been in residence ever since. The Mountain is heavily fortified and the Orcs patrol the ruins of Dale.
"So either you've become suicidal, Sir Thorin, or there's something you're not telling me!"
"A number of things, in fact." Gandalf said from his corner. "One of which is that Smaug no longer has his Orc garrison."
"Really?" Bilbo was doubtful. "Did he eat them all, or just neglect to pay them?"
"Neither." Gandalf said. "They were called away. Called by One who has greater authority over them than any Dragon."
"You're talking about the Necromancer?" Bilbo asked.
"What do you know of the Necromancer?" Gandalf asked sharply.
"I have contacts in Rivendell." Bilbo told him. "Nothing official, Elrond and his people are a close-mouthed lot and the Rangers even more so. But I've heard things that make me think the Necromancer isn't just some rogue Wizard. Rumour has it that he's a Ringwraith, or at least connected to the Dark Lord.
"If that's the case, he's the only one who could command Orcs to leave comfortable quarters and a hoard of treasure. We've known for years that the Ringwraiths have returned to Mordor. It was inevitable that one of them at least would come North eventually. They're all at least as mad as their Lord was."
"You were right about this one." Thorin said to Gandalf. "He's clever, and well-informed.
"The fact is, Captain Baggins, that Smaug is alone in the Mountain, alone and old. He was no longer young two hundred years ago. Dragons only settle when they are past their best; they find a safe place, one they can defend, with lots of treasure so they can trade for food. Then they hole up and stay there, asleep a lot of the time. Eventually, they go to sleep and never wake again."
"Then why not wait him out?" Bilbo asked.
"Honestly, we were quite prepared to." Thorin said. "Goodness knows I'm well-off, we all are, and I don't have any particular dynastic urges -I'm a confirmed bachelor, like yourself. But it seems that I've made myself a little unpopular in my current home. The other ironmasters are unhappy with my business methods."
"You mean they dislike the fact that you don't gouge your customers, raise prices by sitting on inventory until the buyers are desperate and charge vicious interest on credit?" Bilbo remarked.
"Just so." Thorin sighed. "As far as I can tell, it's not good business to overcharge people for everyday items. If you're fair with them, they'll come back to you. Repeat custom is what makes my business."
"Besides giving you almost complete dominance in the Shire and Rivendell markets!" Bilbo commented. "The two biggest ones in Eriador! I dare say your 'colleagues' aren't best pleased about that, either!"
"They are getting a little tetchy." Thorin allowed. "I've had a couple of 'friendly warnings' about undercutting fellow ironmasters and not following established trading practice. And there have been a few…accidents…involving my workshops and staff.
"If it was just one or two of the bastards, I could deal with them. But it's all of them and I won't risk my people in a fight that's too close to call.
"So, we decided it's time to move on. We thought of going to the Iron Hills – my cousin Dain is in charge there. He tells me things are tight because of the Orc raiders and Human bandits, so a few extra hands and some business know-how would help. Apparently they've had to concentrate on military stuff for so long they've almost lost the civilian market, which is where the money is.
"But then Master Gandalf here came along with the news about Smaug being on his own in Erebor, and something else…"
"There's a hidden passage into the Mountain." Gandalf said. "That's how Thror and Thrain got out when Smaug attacked. That's where Thrain was going when the Necromancer caught him. I found him in the dungeons of Dol Guldur. He was dying and more than a little mad, but he gave me a scroll for his son. Sadly, I had no idea who he was at the time, but I kept the scroll.
"It wasn't until a few months ago – when I was in the Blue Mountains on business – that I put the thing together and realised the dying Dwarf I'd found was Thrain, so I got in touch with Thorin here."
"I don't suppose Father gave you a ring, did he?" Thorin asked.
"If he had," Gandalf replied testily, "I'd've known who he was straight away and have done something about it there and then! That was the last and chief of the Dwarf-rings and the only one that was safe to use."
"So the Necromancer has that one, then?" Thorin shrugged. "Good riddance! I know that one was safer than the others, but those rings never brought anything but bad luck. The Elves are good folk, by and large, but it doesn't do for Dwarfs to go messing about with the things they make.
"Anyway, Captain Baggins, this is where you come in! If we can find that passage, and if it's still clear and secret, we have a way in to the Mountain. Now, none of my people could get in there without being noticed, even if the Dragon is asleep. We don't do quiet, never have.
"But the Bywater Scouts could scamper through there and steal the whiskers off Smaugs' face without him noticing. Added to which, we have a long journey to get there.
"We can't take the usual routes -too many prying eyes – so we need specialised scouts for that as well. We'll pay the usual rates plus twenty per cent high-risk premium, and if we succeed, there'll be a substantial bonus. If we can't reach the Mountain, or if we get there and the passage is compromised, we'll call it quits but you'll still be paid the full fee, including pensions for the families of casualties. I'll cover the expenses of the journey.
"Do we have an agreement?"
"In principle, yes." Bilbo said. "But I'll need to know more before I fully commit my people."
"So do we." Thorin replied. "But we can't find out any more here. My fathers' scroll is in Elvish – not uncommon for educated Dwarfs – but a lot of it is in cypher. We need to get it decoded."
"Which means Rivendell." Gandalf said. "I'm fairly good at common cyphers, but this is a tricky one. Master Elrond, however, is the best code-maker and -breaker I know of. If he can't crack it, nobody can!"
Thorin placed a heavy pouch on the table in front of Bilbo. "So we're meeting at Imladris a week from today. "he said. "There's a thousand. Call it a non-refundable deposit. It should be enough to get your people there and cover incidental expenses. If you're not happy with what we find out there, you'll get the same again anyway. But you understand there's a lot more where that came from."
Bag End, The Shire: 19th Gwaeron 2941 KR
"So, Holman, your thoughts?" Bilbo asked.
The grizzled sergeant shrugged. "It's a job, Captain. If what Master Balin told me is right, it's a far job, and a chancy one, but if it goes aright, we're set up for life!"
"That's what's worrying me." Bilbo allowed. "Thorin offers twenty per cent risk money – which is ten above normal risk pay, mind – and hands over a thousand as if it were small change. I know he's rich, but he didn't get that way by throwing money about!"
"Nor he did." Holman agreed. "But you know Dwarfs, Captain. They may sell dear, but if it's for themselves, they don't buy cheap! They want the best and they'll pay for it. It just means Sir Thorin thinks we're the best.
"Besides, jobs are getting thin on the ground, Captain. Them Rangers have been coming down hard on the Free Companies, lately. Buying them out or breaking them up."
"That's true, to a point." Bilbo noted. "But the ones they've been buying out were barely scratching by already. A lot of the Orc-hunting that was their bread and butter has gone, you know. Maybe they were too good at their job, or maybe the Orcs went away. In the light of what Gandalf said – or didn't say – yesterday, I'm inclined to think that somebody is pulling them out. South, maybe, or into Mirkwood. Bad sign, and I can see why the Rangers might want to consolidate their forces.
"As to the others, most of them were bandits anyway. When they took a contract to guard a trading caravan, it was because it was safer than robbing it themselves and easier to spend gold than sell stolen goods! The Rangers probably decided to clean house, and not before time."
"Explains why they've never bothered us, then." Holman realised. "Us, and the Brandybuck Bowmen and the Took Swords, have always worked with the Rangers.
"No, Captain, the only thing that really bothers me about this job is that Gandalf! Put a Wizard in the mix and that means politics."
"It's always politics, Holman." Bilbo told him. "Even guarding merchant caravans. Who do you guard, where are they going, who might be trying to stop them and why? How many towns and villages have we defended against land-grabbers? How many exiled tyrants and madmen have we been paid to hunt down and kill?"
"There's politics, and there's politics." Holman said solemnly. "Local stuff, petty kings and lordlings quarrelling and wanting professionals to sort out the hard bits, that's just business, and we don't judge, just do what we're paid to do.
"But Wizards, they don't think like that. If Master Gandalf is interested in this business, then it's about more than just shifting an old Dragon and retaking a Dwarf hold.
"I mean, if the stories are true, there's enough wealth under that Mountain to buy half of Eriador and a good chunk of Rhovanion. But Wizards don't seem to worry about money, much.
"No, if Gandalf or whoever he works for want a new Kingdom Under the Mountain, they must have a bloody good reason to. Both of us are smart enough to figure out it's got something to do with the rumours coming out of Mirkwood.
"If that Necromancer answers to Mordor – and it's a safe bet he does – then unless something is done sharpish, we're screwed, Captain!"
"All the more reason to take the job then!" Bilbo said. "I'm not an idealist, any more than you are, but if things are stirring out East, then our happy little corner of the world is in as much trouble as anywhere else.
"We'd have to do something about it anyway, so let's do it while people are still prepared to pay us!"