It had been two and a half years since Erebor had been reclaimed and during that time it had remained almost as empty as it had during Smaug's reign. It would have been disastrous to bring any settlers their without first having made it fit to live in, so Thorin had sent his sister a message to continue ruling in his stead and immediately went to work on rebuilding. Dain had graciously allowed most of his men to stay in order to help and Thorin had been pleased to discover that the damage Smaug had caused had been less than he'd imagined. The dragon it seemed had been content to remain in the treasury for the most part, and many of the deeper reaches of Erebor had not been damaged, though it had taken months of excavation to make them reachable. There were still many repairs to be done, but as it was well over half of Erebor was inhabitable and the first group dwarves who'd come from the Blue Mountains had recently been able to begin getting mining restarted. The men of Lake-Town had also been a great assistance, providing labor in exchange for whatever the shelter the dwarves could provide as they rebuilt both Lake-Town and Dale, both of which were well under way. It was through their assistance that they'd been able to begin trading for food that they so desperately needed the first few months.
Food it had soon become clear was the greatest concern that Thorin's kingdom and Bard's own people would have to face. Dwarves were, of course, not farmers by nature and had a small amount of disdain for "food-growers". Bard's people were not skilled either, having gained most of their own food through hunting, trade, and gathering. It had left Throin with the grim knowledge that even if he did manage to rebuild his kingdom, without help they would all soon starve.
Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly considering the hobbit's habit of doing the unexpected, it had been Bilbo who'd come up with the solution. Hobbits, their burglar had explained, were very adept at farming and in truth took no small amount of pride in this skill. He'd gone on to explain that due to hobbits being rather fertile (Thorin could still vividly remember his shock when he'd heard Bilbo explain, very nonchalantly, that his mother had been one of twelve children. His sister was considered blessed to have had two.) There had always been a bit of a problem with overcrowding, though it hadn't become a very large issue yet. But, Bilbo had said looking very pleased with himself, he knew of quite a few hobbits who despite being very respectable would not say no to having their own land and, here the hobbit hadn't been able to hold back his somewhat stunning and definitely proud grin, the lands in front of Erebor had quite fertile soil and perfect hills that seemed to be designed especially for hobbit holes.
And so they'd began to plan. Thorin would offer free land, a small sum of gold, and protection to any hobbit who would dare travel to Erebor to claim it. In exchange the hobbits would give a section of their crops to help support his kingdom and Dale. There had been a few more meetings to straighten out the finer details and by the end it had become increasingly clear that Bilbo would have to be the one to head back to the Shire and speak to the Thains of the Shire-a shocking amount of whom he was related to, causing Dain's people and the Company to give him a new level of respect despite his insistence "I'm not royalty! Thains don't mean the same thing to hobbits as your kings do to you dwarves!"-and to recruit the hobbits. The plan was to send a small group ahead to help sort things out and get it started and then for the main party of settlers to follow later.
It had been a good idea really. A perfect solution to all their problems, but as Bilbo had finished securing his pack to the pony they'd gotten for him, while Gandalf, who'd be escorting him back, had watched Thorin had felt an irrational burst of agitation. What if the hobbit chose not to return? What if he found his hobbit hole with all its comforts and softness more agreeable than Erebor? What if Thorin never saw him again? For a moment Thorin had been forced to fight of the insane desire to call the whole thing off and lock Bilbo up in Erebor so he would never leave them. Thorin had gained control of himself quickly though and if he hugged Bilbo a little more tightly than was normal, he was choosing to ignore it. But in his heart he'd been sad to see the burglar go.
At first Thorin had a hard time shaking off the surprising depression the hobbit's departure had brought and the rest of the Company hadn't been much better. Without realizing it the hobbit had quite clearly curved a very large place in all their hearts. The older dwarves had handled it better though they obviously missed him.
It was the younger ones it had hit hardest.
Ori had withdrawn for a while isolating himself in the library and editing his journals of their adventure. When one of the older dwarves who'd been sent to assist him had tried to get rid of some Elfish books, something Thorin would have normally supported, the somewhat subdued Ori had flown into a rage telling the dwarf on no uncertain terms what exactly would happen if he dared touch the books he'd saved for Mister Bilbo. Since then Ori had grown quite sharp with those he was in charge of and kept a book shelf in the library reserved entirely for books he believed Bilbo would like. Ori, at least, had cheered up when the first hobbits had arrived and quickly volunteered to help them settle in, having become a bit of an expert on hobbits due to his conversations with Bilbo, while retaining his position as Head Librarian, Royal Scribe, and Keeper of Records.
Fili and Kili were much worse. Immediately following Bilbo's departure they'd been inconsolable and not even Dwalin continuing their training had raised so much as a complaint. They'd remained solemn with a cloud of grief hanging over them for weeks. When the hobbits had arrived it had only gotten worse. Kili had been downright teary eyed when they'd been introduced to a relative of Bilbo's who'd came with the first group and Thorin had notice Fili had been subvert sniffing too. Drogo Baggins had been clearly confused about why the two dwarf Princes kept casting him sad beaten puppy looks. It was Gandalf, having escorted the thirty hobbits who'd arrived to help, who got them out of their slump. With him Bilbo had sent a letter detailing his discussion with the Thains (which had went surprisingly well), the numbers he had already spoken to (they had been small at first but was steadily growing), and how long it would take him to return (a bit longer than expected). All with personal messages to the Company members and a request to send him replies to alert him to how things were going.
Thorin's nephews had instantly cheered up and ran to track down Ori to get some paper to reply. They'd quickly convinced Thorin that ravens would be the best and fastest way to communicate, not that he'd put up much of a struggle, and had regularly exchanged letters with Bilbo, returning to their normal selves. The letters had done Thorin some good himself. Bilbo was a very good advisor and even if the hobbit couldn't give him a solution for every problem that occurred, hearing from his friend always helped him relax and think.
All in all things had ended up very well. They'd be perfect as soon as Bilbo returned and his people arrived. And according to the reports he'd been given from Bilbo and Balin that would be occurring very soon.
"And how goes the farming Master Greenhand?" Thorin questioned looking at the hobbit before him and feeling a bit impatient for the answer.
Holman Greenhand was middle-aged by Hobbit standards, about fifty-two, but he had been one of the earliest arrivals from the Shire and was considered exceptional when it came to growing things. The gardener had taken to the business of ordering the dwarfs and men alike around once his horror over their lack of knowledge had overcome his initial timidity. From the reports Balin had been sending him he'd helped improve their productivity tenfold and was a rather hard task master, reminding him quite a bit of the ever pushy Dis.
"Quite well, Your Majesty," Holman told him straightening as he spoke and looking rather pleased with himself. "You dwarves might not have the hand with plants we hobbits do." Holman looked both pitying towards Thorin's people, which Thorin found more amusing than having grown fairly used to Holman over the past year, and proud of his own people. "We'll have enough to support the numbers Mister Bilbo sent us and Erebor and Dale. We've already stored up quite a bit, last growing season was surprisingly good, and this year's shaping up to be better."
Thorin nodded and looked over the papers Holman had given him that held the exact numbers of all the crops they had and were projected to have. He almost choked in surprise and Holman gave him an oddly ashamed look.
"Are these figures correct?" Thorin demanded bewildered and to his amazement Holman bowed his head.
"I know it's not as much as we'd all like, but it'll get us by until we can really get started." Holman said looking apologetic and determined.
"That is not what I meant, these can easily feed the whole of Erebor, Dale, and Lake-Town for two, nay, three years maybe."
It was Holman's turn to look bewildered. "Yavanna, are you starving yourselves?"
Thorin shook his head remembering, amused and a little sad, how Bilbo had talked fondly about his seven meals a day. Thorin had always thought the hobbit had been exaggerating, but apparently not if Holman's reaction was anything to go by. Thorin quickly finished speaking to the hobbit and was pleased to find that with the rearranging of numbers they worked out, though it was clearly Holman was convinced the dwarfs and men would all starve, they had more than double what they needed, the winter months would be covered as well. Thorin couldn't help but smile as Holman left. With the food supply secure there was nothing keeping Thorin from summoning his people, and a certain hobbit, back to Erebor immediately. Feeling lighter than he had in almost two years, Thorin raised to his feet. He had letters to send.