Erebor, 2941 TA

Bilbo watched the dwarrow root around in Smaug's treasure in search of the Arkenstone with the diligence of non-union labour. He felt the said jewel burning a hole in his bedroll, four score paces away, so strong was its Call, its whispers of Kingship and Lording over the Dwarrow.

But the Hobbit knew that he could not claim the kinship for himself, not being of the line of Durin. Being the spitting image of his father he had immediately dismissed the angle of his mother having "a fling", behaviour rare among the Hobbits and absolutely unthinkable among the Bagginess. Yet not unheard off among the Tooks, with some lads venturing outside the Shire on adventures, and some lasses having flings – the most outlandish rumours claiming dalliances with Rangers! Hence unusually tall Tooks were said to have been "found in the woods", although the rest of the populace knew of their "true" origins, but kept quiet out of respect for the Thain.

Yet he could not pass on the Jewel to just any dwarf – the cousins UR were not royalty. They had told him that they were bondsmen to Thorin and would follow him unquestionably. They were not tied to Thorin personally, but to the King - hence before learning of Thrain's death they had been Oakenshield's followers in absentia. So they now followed Thorin as the Heir Apparent. And follow him they would, unless the Arkenstone chose somebody else.

Bilbo now ran an assessment of the ten Durin's. Thorin was a basket case, totally bonkers over the treasure. Dragon Sickness in full bloom! Kili and Fili? They had not succumbed to the Dragon sickness and were merrily plonking on their violins. But Bilbo was not sure whether this a sign of their mental fortitude or a symptom of their ... simplicity? A mental debility he had suspected of them since their wide eyed surprise and curiosity – or was it just idiocy? – when they had arrived at Bag End.

And so he went through each Durin, judging their character and predisposition for Kingship. After finishing the second pipe he finally made up his mind, stood up, wiped his trouser bottoms and purposefuly strutted off in search of the Durin of His Choice.


Ori held the Arkenstone high, for all to see. Bilbo cried out:

"Hail the King Under the Mountain!"

Thorin, suddenly pale, then red with fury, bellowed:

"Mine!" and lunged forward to get at the usurper. A sock to the side of the head from Dori sprawled him on the floor.

"He is King. It came to Him. So bow." The eldest of the Brothers Ri snarled at Thorin and prostrated himself in front of his royal brother, joining the cousins UR and Nori. The Fundinul and Groininul brothers were baffled, but looked at the involuntarily prostrate Thorin, the open mouthed and spittle dribbling Kili and Fili, shrugged and joined the others on the floor in acknowledgment of their new King. A very, very Junior Line of the House of Durin or not, the Arkenstone had chosen. Ori was the new Heir of Durin.


With a jolt from a Royal boot on the backside Thorin Oakenshield left the Lonely Mountain on a diplomatic mission to mend fences with the Men and the Elves. And to bring back fresh food, preferably chips and green peas.

From the sidelines Bilbo smiled. Ori was a solid dwarf. In his youth poverty had led him to work as a slaver, selling Men and Orcs to Umbar slavers, and he certainly wasn't the sharpest chisel in Mahal's Forge, but he knew which side of the sandwich had butter on it. He will let himself be guided by the sharpest mind in Erebor – Bilbo's.


AN:

A little piece I ran out this afternoon, inspired by that ethereal Muse "maisierita"