Chapter 1
rev16
Bombur laid on a cushion next to the dinner table. He groans from being way over stuffed, was reflecting on his state, and what he was about to do next.
Bombur was fat, enormous Currently near 360lbs of blubber and near bursting point. But he hadn't always been that way. He thought back to his childhood.
He was an average boy, his mother always made him healthy snacks for a dwarf, goat milk, potato cakes, and cheeses were staples in the house along with kale, cabbage and other cold weather vegetable and root crops that grew in the mountains. It wasn't until he was five that one greedy act allowed hunger to possess him. He was out playing hide and seek in the Blue Mountains with his Brother, and older cousin Bifur when a dark stranger came across him and offered him some sugar cake.
Bombur had never had this type of cake before and ate it greedily than was given a few more to share with his friends. But instead of sharing, he ate all the cakes as soon as he was out of the stranger's sight. After that, he was always hungry. The nagging force invaded his stomach always begged to be filled. It would drive him to sneak meals and added much bulk to his frame. Soon he developed into a pudgy boy. The constant hunger had possessed him for years and couldn't be tamed until he found an occupation that mostly distracted him during the days and won him the praise of his peers.
When he was 40, he started his apprentice work in the forge as was custom. Dwarves were considered of age at 40 and it was expected of his line of that they would pick up one of the working class skills either mining, tinkering or smiting. The dwarves when they picked a career would apprentice under a master but also were trained in battle as warriors. Since that was the part of their culture. Every male dwarf was drafted into the kings army the women had a choice but normally stayed home although those that choose that path made fierce warriors. Bomburs father worked the forges and he got him the apprenticeship. Bombur was still quite heavy, then a flabby 230 lbs, larger than was common for a younger dwarf. His first few months were difficult, as he was clumsy and had a habit of knocking things over and burning himself. But after a while he learned to be a little more careful and as time went on, even though at home he still stuffed his face and occasionally stole Bofurs desserts, he was becoming less round.
His gradual shrinking also started to increase his agility and the forge master began giving him harder more delicate tasks like actually learning the art of smelting. The heat of the forge, extra exercises of swinging a hammer, and working the bellows were enough to offset the gorging he did on his off hours. For the first time in his life, the calories he downed were not adding excess on his frame. His mother was the first to point this out to him, grabbing him by the arm one day after breakfast before he rushed off to work. She pulled him close to her and hugged him close, and with a hand on the red fuzz that was thickening around his young face, she told him how proud she was of her little baby boy becoming such a handsome young man and following in his father footsteps. His mother watched the boys grow up over the next few years knowing that soon they would have to leave to start their own families. Bombur and Bofur grew into strong and skilled young Dwarves.
Even though Bombur never really lost his excessive appetite, after a few years of honing his skills he had become a lean 190lbs. Bofur advanced also and was eventually promoted to a foreman at the mining site and was in charge of mapping out new tunnels and mines to find better ore deposits, something he had a knack for and this suited him because it allowed him to explore. At the same time, Bombur became prized as a smith. These accomplishments made their family very proud, his father was very happy to have both a son who was so prized at the forge and they had become quite close during his apprenticeship and later promotions and one who could find the best veins in the mountain. Once Bombur was promoted to a Master Smith, His father Chose to retire and he and their mother decided to travel a little more and trade goods that their sons had crafted. They found these sold very well in the human and even some elvish settlements in the Valley of Ered Luin, and they would occasionally travel further East through Eriador.
Bomburs work was sought after by the most esteemed families in the Mountain kingdom, who knowing what he indulged in, would bribe him savory morsels to ensure they were getting the finest of his crafts. Bombur enjoyed this time of his life, not only the feasting, but praises and he greedily accepted both of them. The shade liked this time also because he would relish siphoning off those intense feelings of greed and pleasure from his chosen host. And since they were being prompted by outside influence he didn't even have to encourage them so less work for him.
By the time Bombur was 60 he was promoted to Thorin's halls master crafter and was instrumental in overseeing the crafting of statues, armor and weapons of the kingdom. This lasted for many years, and several adventures. But ultimately this lifestyle couldn't endure forever. As Bombur reached his 120's a disaster struck and depression hit him so hard he blocked decades out of his life to protect himself from the pain. Because of this, old temptations started to override his want to craft and he began spending more time feasting on comfort food and less at his forge.
Bofur and Bifur tried several things to move him from his slump. They tried having him join them on mining expeditions. Although this proved to be futile, as Bombur refused to work. He would often sulk, dragging his feet on the cold damp rock, lagging far behind. Refusing to go down into many of the tunnels. He would glance down after his relatives, at the tight squeezes, not bothering to even attempt them. Self-pity played into this. They tried talking him into joining them to seek new trade partners as they had made plenty of crafts and toys and tinkers bits to sell. Eventually, they talked Bombur into adding some of his finer jewelry and weapons to their wagon. His brother thought the extra exercise of a journey, maybe a change of scenery, and hearing praise of his skilled workmanship by someone other than dwarves would be good for Bombur's mood. Sadly Bofur was wrong. Once the cousins left the mountain to wander Eriador, Bombur quickly turned to the food in his pack to comfort him, and choose to ride the cart sulking, rather than walk beside his relations. Even though Bofur at every chance tried to find ways to get him engaged in the travels. Bombur only really joined in any activities at meal times where he had established himself as a cook. Bofur's trade journeys over the next few years took the cousins all over the area between the Blue Mountains and Misty Mountains where Bifur and Bofur would always look south to their lost Home of Moria. They only would return to their home in the Blue Mountains to restock. They traveled from Thorin's Halls to Bree, and back thru Ered Luin and to the dwarven homesteads that surrounded the abandoned Broadbeam city of Gabilgathol.
These trips went on for several years, Pony cart, and clan trading, toys, daggers, armor, whatever weapons Bombur had left in his cache since it had now been quite a while since he had made any new ones. Bombur didn't benefit as much as Bofur had hoped from these trips, choosing to only passively engage in their travels . One night near Autumn , after the Dwarves had done trade in Bree and were on their way back to the Blue Mountains by way of the north Shire . The cousins had stopped for the night to make camp. Bombur was tasked with making a fire for dinner and keeping a lookout while Bifur set up the camp. Bofur was out hunting hares on the moor below the hills. Bombur disinterested until there was food to cook, decided to nap while he waited for supplies. Shortly after the portly 240lb Dwarf dozed off, the band was set upon by a small pack of orcs that had wandered south from Carn Dûm to the woods east of Bree near the North Downs. Bifur who was focused on pitching the tent was first to be attacked and Bombur was woken by a loud scream. Having failed as a lookout, Bifur was already seriously wounded by an ax embed in his skull. Stunned but reactive, Bifur was able to fight off the first orc. As Bofur who was near enough that he was able to scramble to fight off the second. Bombur was late to the party, and a little slow, but once he got moving he reveled in the fight. Knocking out three orcs with a handy iron ladle, the last few years of sedentary lifestyle hadn't completely sapped his strength and he was briefly enjoying the rush that the skirmish gave him. Unfortunately, this wasn't much comfort to his massively injured cousin.
With three orcs dead, one mortally wounded and the last run off, Bofur was able to get a look at his cousin. Alive, a testament to dwarf fortitude. But unable to communicate clearly.
Bifur tried to speak but could only manage grunts, until he cursed quite plainly in his native tongue. Bifur answered him in Khazâd and they realized that he could still communicate that way. A minor silver lining, but they still needed to slow the bleeding and get him to a healer to see about his head wound.
The ax was buried deep, Bofur took charge, and instructed his brother to get him a number of clean towels from the packs, and some stiff leather bracers. Bofur had Bifur lay down on some blankets in the wagon and told him to remain still. Once he had the requested materials he told Bombur to start packing the camp quickly, they were leaving for Bree. He used the bracer around the ax handle to steady it on his cousins head so it wouldn't move. He then used the towels to pack the wound the best he could to stop the bleeding. After that, he wrapped it as best he could to keep the packing and restraints from moving and wrapped his cousin in blankets to keep him warm. At that point, the camp was hastily repacked and the three made an urgent three-hour journey to Bree from the Edge of the old forest.
Bofur had Bifur on the wagon, and made Bombur run alongside, he silently did this as punishment for napping instead of acting as the lookout. Bombur already pretty spent from straining himself way more than he was used to, and now running low on adrenaline, eventually ended up quite a ways behind. Bofur ran the ponies as quickly as they could go under load, and they covered the thirty miles to town in about three hours, although Bombur took all night to eventually catch up.
After this set back the three returned to Thorin's halls and Bombur took up cooking until there was issued the quest for Erebor. Bofur having an adventurous bug, and Bifur now healed enough for travel, he convinced his family to again take a journey, this time, to try to retake the mountain.
Bombur, now 260lbs signed on as a chef, at the prodding of Bofur who was still the ring leader and always out for a new adventure. Bifur came because he wanted a chance to return an ax to the orc that had gotten away.