Of Mountains and Woodlands: Chapter 2
The night grew tired quickly and so came the dawn, the sun peeping over the hills, cascading light over the rivers and valleys of Hobbiton and beyond, shining a golden shimmer onto the feet of Bilbo Baggins. The company had taken their leave just before dawn and were now well on their way and Bilbo was left to make amends by himself. Coming face to face with the door and the contract they had left on the shelf in his hand, Bilbo felt a tug at his heart and energy in his feet. It's a dangerous business, stepping out your door and taking to the road…and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you'd get swept off too. Bilbo took that first step and the second, hesitating on the third but then the fourth came and he lost count. He raced down his little path, through his gate, down the road, a shadow in the fields, over the fence and before he thought to look back, Hobbiton was gone and adventure loomed before him.
"Wait!" he called, panting to a stop next to Balin. Thorin had turned and gazed at Bilbo with disbelief and so in response, Bilbo raised the contract above his head as if it were a trophy,
"I've signed it,"
Balin took the contract from him and looked at it, looked suspiciously back at Bilbo and then proceeded to pull out a one-eye lens and peeped at the small signature left by the burglar, checking…just in case he had forged it for no reason. Balin looked content with his conclusion, however, and folded and put away the paper, smiling down at Bilbo,
"Welcome, Mr Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield,"
Bilbo smiled, immensely pleased with himself,
"Get him a pony,"
"What? No!" Bilbo's smile faded quickly, he was never fond of animals, especially ones that were bigger than him,
"I'm just fine walking, really. I've walked quite far in my life,"
Thorin only listened for a moment before ignoring the rest of Bilbo's argument, raising an eyebrow at Maya as he passed her. Bilbo was hoisted up onto a lovely little white pony and was left to sit uncomfortably astride the little things as it bumbled away alongside everyone else.
"So what's your story, Mr Baggins?" Maya fell in beside him, "What made you come through?"
Bilbo glanced at her before returning his focus to the task of holding the reins ridiculously tightly.
"Well, you, actually, your little interrogation last night got me to thinking and well…here I am,"
"Here you are," she smiled at him, "I'm glad you came, Bilbo Baggins,"
"Yes, well," he glanced ahead of him looking glum, "Thorin didn't seem too happy about me showing up,"
Maya looked to Thorin, thoughtfully, at exactly the time Thorin glanced back; they made eye contact and then turned away,
"He'll come round, he doesn't seem too fond of me either but, he'll come around. You'll see," she laid a hand on his shoulder and left him be. Bilbo didn't feel very assured and even less so when she left his side. He didn't look up often enough for the first couple of hours' worth of riding but when he finally gained confidence and got to talking with Bofur and Gloin, he learnt and saw a great deal more than what he initially did. He saw the trees as green as he'd ever known and the path upon which they rode was over grown and rough so he concluded that it was seldom used. The sun would constantly be going from cloud to cloud so the shadows would change to form peculiar shapes, fitting their surrounding as best they could with the light they were given until sometimes they would be outdone and not be there at all. Bilbo saw the sky in a new light every few minutes too, more than he'd ever seen it change in his whole life at Hobbiton. What he learnt was that Thorin was not one for new companions; he took a while to warm up to them. Dori was the writer and les artist of the company, Bombur was a brilliant chef and dinner was one to be looked forward too no matter what the circumstance of food was. Bilbo could believe that by the size of Bombur. If there was no food, food would appear for Bombur would refuse to accept that no food was available. That would just be too rude. He also learnt that Gandalf had found Maya on the outskirts of the Wild Wood, though why she was on the border and not in its depths was not clear. Gandalf had met her and apparently offered her a place on the quest and she had accepted without faltering. She was also found alone, which was another mystery. Bilbo frowned,
"Alone? I read Nymphs were always in pairs,"
"Aye, that's what we heard too. Apparently that's not true though. Odd one she is, so it sounds," Gloin stroked his red beard, trying to tame that which could not be tamed.
"Thorin seems to be weary of her as well," Bofur nodded towards their leader, "I don' know if it's jus' me or not, but he seems to spend a lot of time glancin' over his shoulder at her. Can't figure out if it's with contempt or content. That one's face never changes,"
"Not sure," Gloin was still stroking his beard, "He's always lookin' around, never still. Ah well, she's an odd one, like you said. Problem solved. I like her though, I think she's go' somethin' ta show,"
"Hmm, aye," Bofur turned to Bilbo, "What do you think?"
Bilbo looked to where Maya rode next to Gandalf; his hat; tall and grey it was, made him look 3 times taller than he was. Maya didn't seem to be bothered by it but maybe she didn't know. She looked like a midget next to Gandalf's long frame, despite being on a pony. Thorin was just ahead of them and as Bilbo watched, Thorin did indeed glance over his shoulder often. Not to add to the conversation, though, he never said a word.
"I don't know,"
And so they rode on in silence; Gloin stroking his beard, Bilbo watching Thorin and Maya and Bofur humming a sweet little tune.
The company set up camp in a small, sheltered clearing at the base of a cliff. As Thorin stared out over the moonlit valley before him, Balin's voice echoed out the story of his battle against Azog and the loss of his grandfather and father on the same day. The day he became King was the worst day of his life. That day played out in his dreams more often than he could bear, weighed his shoulders down and was the crack in the wall of pride when no one was looking. When he turned around, he found the company (or those that were awake) looking at him in awed respect. He could say nothing; only walk back through the masses to his bed roll.
"What of the pale Orc? What happened to him?" Bilbo asked hesitantly.
"That filth died of his wounds long ago," Filth. Thorin spat the word out as if it were poison on the tongue. He marched passed his nephews, giving them a curt nod before settling on his matt, very much aware of the uncertain glance that passed between Balin and Gandalf but he was too tired to enquire. He didn't care, he wanted Erebor back. He wanted the Arkenstone where it belonged, he wanted a dreamless slumber…he wanted his father. He sat leaning against the rock, his gaze drifting to Gloin's undisturbed form, breathing in all the little critters that hovered above his face and breathing them back out again like a fountain in reverse. Maya sat nearby and he found his gaze drifting. Her eyes, brighter and bigger in the light, danced with the flames, her hands fidgeted and he thought he saw sparks but he dismissed that as a trick of the fire light and his exhaustion.
"You're a little far from home, aren't you," he didn't mean it as a crude comment, merely as a suggestion. He was prepared to defend his remark if she took offense, for his deep voice often had the reproachful edge to it that had grown more prominent as the years passed. But Maya took no offense and moved her vision to him, pausing a moment before responding.
"Not too far, a day or so away. We'll be passing back the way I came, if I'm not mistaken,"
"Oh," Thorin's brow furrowed but a little as it usually did, "Gandalf did not inform me of this,"
"Well, I have now, so need to worry,"
"I would like to know beforehand. It is my quest. If we're taking detours, I would like to know," he would have been angry but he really was tired.
"It's not far, really. Anyway, I signed that contract and gave it to Balin. I just thought you should know,"
Thorin nodded, Balin's insistence on the "contract" was such an odd and pointless thing and he rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed,
"Good," before he could say anymore, though, Bilbo's voice carried through the cool, night air, irritating Thorin's keen ears. He didn't understand the wizard's reasons for bringing the hobbit. He looked useless; skill with conkers? What in Durin's name is that? He huffed,
"Hobbit," he grumbled, pressing his head to the rock face.
"What about him?" Maya looked over at him inquisitively.
"Why is he here? What use could he possibly be to me…to us? He can't fight, he's not a burglar – he made that very clear. What he is, is a liability,"
"You don't know that," Maya retorted gently.
"Have you seen him?" he leant forward again, emphasising his contempt.
"Bilbo Baggins, the hobbit– yes, but his heart? I'm waiting to see," she looked back at Thorin and rested her chin on her hand, her elbow resting on her knee.
"I don't know why he's here; he doesn't know why he's here! Why is he here?" Thorin insisted, throwing his hands up in frustration,
"For the same reason I'm here, perhaps,"
"Well, why are you here?"
"Because you need help,"
Thorin turned his head sharply to her, meeting her stern gaze. She didn't waver and didn't blink. Loyalty, honour, a willing heart, Thorin could ask no more than that and he remembered those words he told Balin. Maya's eyes were daring him to challenge her answer but in retrospect, he could not. He didn't want to. The comfort that came with such a keen look and such gentle words was remarkable. He held her gaze for a long while before getting up and walking to her and taking a seat by her side. She nodded, he nodded and all at once they had a mutual understanding of one another. Staring into the flames of the dying fire, they let the night be. The moon hung low in the sky as bright as day, a sliver coin in the deep blue canvas.
Bilbo and Bofur looked at each other, the eyes of Fili and Kili narrowed, everyone else snored away to their hearts content.
