Gold and Fire – Chapter 4
-April-
The supposed burglar, Master Bilbo Baggins, host to 13 dwarves and a wizard, fainted.
He had been reading over a document outlining the services the dwarves were hoping to secure from him, but began to dwell on a specific point—a description of injuries which he may or may not suffer at the hands (or rather claws and teeth) of the dragon, Smaug. Bofur's embellishment of the hurts and possible death of the hobbit did nothing to help the welling panic in Bilbo's chest.
He thought that perhaps he could steady himself and ride out the sensation, but no shake of the head or huffing of air could fight against the blur of his vision and his descent to the carpet beneath his feet.
Dimly aware of the hands that helped him up, Bilbo gradually woke in his chair beside the fireplace, begging for a cup of tea. The kindly dwarf, Dori, was more than happy to comply.
"I'll be all right," Bilbo insisted, reminding himself that he had not committed to anything. He weighed the amount of shame he might feel in declining the dwarves' request for his assistance.
It was not Gandalf's condescending words or the amusing story of his forefather that inclined Bilbo to resist, but the general sentiment of his hobbit community—he was a respected hobbit because he did those things which other hobbits respected. What would those same hobbits say if they knew he was even entertaining the troupe of strangers, let alone deciding whether or not to join them?
There was a wistful part of him that wanted to sign their charter, to include himself on their adventure, to see the wonderful things the world had to offer, but it was being drowned out by the voices of his elders and peers.
"Get your head out of the clouds," he had been told as a child, and eventually Bilbo's infatuation with elves and adventures had been beaten down by the harsh reality that he would never be taken seriously unless he adhered to everyone else's way of thinking. While it had been hard to come to terms with when he was younger, he certainly saw the wisdom in it now.
Still, he asked himself silently, if this had happened ten or twenty years ago, would I have accepted the dwarves' offer then?
Yes, he answered himself honestly.
Then put that notion out of your mind, said the voices of the other hobbits. Better to stay safely within the comfort of your walls than go romping through the woods with strangers—and dwarves, no less!—to an almost certain death.
"I'm sorry," Bilbo whispered aloud to Gandalf. "You've got the wrong hobbit." …though it broke a piece of his heart to say it.
Thorin watched Bilbo walk away from his conversation with Gandalf, defeat in his stance.
"It appears," Balin muttered in front of him, occupying a bench in a rounded hallway. "We have lost our burglar."
Propping himself against a hallway support column, Thorin looked surprisingly calm and collected. He was secretly relieved that the hobbit wasn't interested in coming with them, despite the soundness of Gandalf's plan. It seemed impossible, these days, for Thorin to open his trust to anyone—even those who claimed to be his allies were proving themselves to be treacherous and he pointed that thought on his recent dealings with Dain.
"Probably for the best," Balin continued. "The odds were always against us."
Thorin's eyes ceased their following of Bilbo and gazed in sympathy at the aged warrior before him.
"After all," Balin moaned in exhaustion, his tired composure having to do more with their quest than age. "What are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toymakers? Hardly the stuff of legend."
Thorin grinned at his older mentor. "There are a few warriors amongst us."
"Old warriors," Balin conceded, nodding.
"I would take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills." Thorin scowled. "For when I called upon them, they answered." His resentment of Dain was still fresh, even after days of travel…
He took a step forward, centering his focus on Balin and suppressing his anger against Dain for the moment. "Loyalty, honor, and a willing heart."
Balin looked around, an objection parting his lips with words that he could not summon.
"I can ask no more than that." Thorin asserted.
"You don't have to do this," Balin begged, standing. "You have a choice. You've done honorably by our people! You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains," Balin offered. "A life of peace and plenty. A life that is more than all the gold in Erebor."
But Thorin's mind was not on gold, it was on Nur and Dul, on the traders of the outpost, and even on his sister, Dis. Thorin's heart wanted to accept his advisor's wisdom, but his mind could not forget those who were waiting on him to bring them sanctuary.
The customs and ways of Erebor were being lost, even to those in the Blue Mountains, as other kings and leaders were casting off the old ways and accepting the customs of men—including forcing their daughters to marry against their will, a thought which would never have crossed the minds of the dwarves of old. Those dwarves would never have denied their daughters the opportunity to be joined with their One.
Thorin meant to preserve those rights and freedoms, but he could not do it without a kingdom.
"From my grandfather to my father this has come to me," he said, holding up the key he had received from Gandalf. His grandfather and father were giving him more than just a key—more than just passage into Erebor—it was also the preservation of customs which would finally be re-established with his rule when that key was used in their quest. "They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland."
Balin sighed, understanding that Thorin was referring to more than just gold.
"There is no choice, Balin," Thorin said. No choice when so many are waiting for me to accomplish this feat. "Not for me."
Balin nodded, "Then we are with you, laddie." He reached out a hand to pat Thorin's arm. "We will see it done."
Warm smoke rose from Fili's pipe while he sat beside Dwalin. The hulking figure of his mentor had stretched his legs out and crossed his arms, quiet company beside the dwarf princeling. Just the dwarf's presence was comforting to the young lad while he mulled over the new information they'd been given.
The company's high spirits had died down with the evening, but they chattered cheerfully to each other.
"Fili," he heard his name called as his uncle stepped slowly into the room. "I need to speak with you."
Fili could feel his brother's eyes on him while he strode nervously to join Thorin in the hallway which had been earlier occupied with his advisor. He did not glance behind him, but tried to mentally prepare himself for what he knew was going to come next.
But that was just it—he didn't know what was going to come next. If his uncle's grimace was any indication of his thoughts, it wouldn't be good.
"Uncle," Fili began, but Thorin cut him off with an upheld hand.
"I'm not sure what you were thinking, but I expect my heir to show a little more restraint when he comes up against something he wants and meets resistance. I had an earful of dishonor from Dain, with the seven kingdoms as witness. I'm sure I was the only one there understanding of why you felt you had to secure Nur as your wife without permission from her father."
Fili's head ducked and he knew he deserved that remark. "I'm sorry if I've disappointed you." And then he wavered in his guilt and his head came up again. "But at the same time I cannot apologize for my actions..."
Thorin's eyebrows raised and he crossed his arms, patiently waiting for Fili to explain himself.
"King Dain was never set on helping us to begin with."
"You can't know that." Thorin countered. "Not for certain."
"I can if Nur told me such." Fili said, raising a single eyebrow. "And I can also be certain that he was intending another courtship for her while I was away."
"That," Thorin pointed a large finger at his nephew in condescension, "is no reason to disturb alliances. Do you not remember the talks we had in the forest between the outpost and the Iron Hills? Do you not remember when I told you that as leaders we must sometimes sacrifice personal happiness for the sake of our people?"
Fili's jaw clenched and he stared at the ground.
"Do you not remember," Thorin continued in a quieter voice, "my own example in that advice?"
Fili clenched his eyes shut and felt a heavy weight of guilt. He knew what Thorin was alluding to—once, long ago, this his uncle had been courting his own lass and had to make a terrible decision to set her aside for the sake of his people when they were most in need. It was a decision that weighed heavily on the older dwarf, aging him in a way no one would ever know because no one ever talked about it. No one even dared say her name.
"I am sorry," Fili said in genuine remorse, "if I have cost us our quest. I never meant to—"
Fili stopped short when Thorin reached out a hand to rest on his shoulder. For a moment, just a short moment, Fili thought the older dwarf meant to strike him—he wouldn't have blamed his uncle if he had, he felt he was deserving of it and did not understand how Thorin could keep from looking so angry.
"What's done is done," Thorin said, and he surprised Fili with a small smile at the corner of his lips. "We cannot change that. I need you to know that I will not hold this against you and that all is truly well and forgiven. The only thing that can help now," Thorin raised his eyes to meet Fili's, "is concentrating our efforts on taking back Erebor, not dwelling on what we could have done differently."
While Fili thought he was entirely unworthy of his uncle's forgiveness, he was startled when he felt Thorin's strong arms enfolding him and relented to the embrace. When the two pulled away from each other, Thorin was grinning from ear to ear as if responding to an unheard joke.
"I would never admit this to anyone else," Thorin said in a voice that sounded much lighter than his usual morose tone, "but I am secretly satisfied in seeing someone else choose a path I was not fortunate enough to walk myself." He turned to walk into the next room, but tilted his head back, glancing at Fili from the corner of his eye. "And that stays between us."
"Uncle," Fili watched Thorin halt. "Do you mean to tell the company?" he asked cautiously.
Thorin turned to fully face his nephew. "Did you want me to?"
Fili shook his head. "Not yet." And then he paused. "Do… Do I have your blessing?"
Thorin chuckled, turning back to his nephew after a moment. "She may not realize it, but I gave my blessing to Nur long before you ever asked for it."
And with that, the two walked together into the fireplace room, where Bofur had begun to hum a familiar tune about that fateful day in Erebor.
Bilbo's first moments in the waking world did not include his memory of what had happened the night before. He took in the gleam of morning light through his window, the wax of candles melted over, and the warm, cotton-like scent of his soft bed-sheets beneath him and wondered if he was going to cook eggs or bacon.
Both, he decided ravenously. He'd only had a small dinner the night before, why had he—?
"Oh," Bilbo groaned in recollection. The dwarves. After they'd raided his pantry, he was left wondering if he had any bacon left at all!
Peeking his head around the corner of his room, the hobbit expected at least to see the bodies of sleeping dwarves strewn about his halls… but there was no one.
Furthermore, the place was relatively clean. Had they really gone to the trouble of picking up after themselves?
There, you've done it, Bilbo's inner voices chimed in congratulations. There's no joining them now! They've up and left and you can return to your routine.
But then he eyed the contract, still sitting on the table beside his armchair.
That was an opportunity that only comes once, a small voice whined in his head. And it is seldom offered to hobbits!
That's no good, doubting yourself, the multiple scolders reproached the small voice. You're an honorable hobbit and you've done rightly!
Honorable? He questioned himself, picking up his jacket and slipping his arms through the sleeves. Since when was it moral to turn down those asking for help?
And what, the condescending voices smirked, could you have offered them?
So I am highly esteemed and yet I am useless? He though indignantly. He pulled at a sack of apples and two loaves of bread, along with a pen and some paper. My merit, as it were, is based on nothing more than my ability to stifle what I really want! My reputation is based on what others want me to do, and for once in my life I am going to do something that I want!
This reflection baffled the scorning inner voices and he realized that he had subconsciously gone for his leather pack and had stuffed the food and the writing instrument inside. He became aware of himself, grasping the contract and the pack in his hands and standing in front of his door as though he were making ready to leave.
"Is this really what you want, Bilbo?" He asked himself aloud.
Yes! The small voice, suddenly strengthened, shouted. Adventure!
For five months, Nur had been in basic military instruction. She had not yet begun the Akkik —the stipulation being that they pass through generic instruction first and on completion enter into the Akkik training.
She stood on the doorstep of her commander's office, pack over her shoulder full of her meager supplies. The dwarf behind the desk lifted his head up, as though unimpressed, and handed her a paper without speaking further.
"Thank you." She bowed. She had become accustomed at this point to the various forms of treatment others gave her in regards to her status as Princess of the Iron Hills, which mostly consisted of scorn. They seemed to think her royal blood made her incapable. But no matter how harshly everyone else had judged her, she had not lost her civility and promised that she would retain it for as long as she could.
Making her way through a harsh granite hallway, she realized that she would be seeing Dul again after so many long months of seclusion with her fellow cadet lasses. King Dain did not believe in training lads and lasses together, but the Akkik trainers had no such qualms, even quartering the genders in the same rooms.
Glancing at the paper in her hand, she realized that the room she had come to was indeed the room she was meant to enter, the markings on the wall reading clearly the same as the scrawled message she was looking at. Nur only doubted it because this area of the halls looked unkept and abandoned.
The grey hallway was dimly lit, further into the mountain than her previous training complex and dorms. A red-haired dwarf stood nearby the door, hands clasped behind him, leaning against the wall. He did not speak, but took in the sight of Nur and her pack.
She knew from his expression that he would not offer her assistance, would not ask her if she was in the right place. The only souls walking through this Mahal-forsaken hallway were the ones who intended to be there.
Handing him the paper, Nur glanced into the dark room with a quickened heartbeat, taking a deep breath before stepping into it.
She made it a few steps into the room before she heard the door close behind her and the sound of a lock being put in place. The wooden door had a few small cracks in which she could barely make out signs of light.
It was pitch black.
But she knew better than to panic at this. This was only the beginning of her first day and she would forgo the idea of fear in her first moments.
Rather than venture further into the blackness, she let out a low whistle, testing the walls for echo and seeing if she could measure the space with sound. From what she could tell, though she had never performed such a test, the room measured a few yards out in all directions with a high ceiling.
Before she could decide what to do next, the door opened enough to allow another dwarf into the room before closing again.
"Is someone there?" The startled voice of a female dwarf whispered.
"Just in front of you." Nur announced in a calm voice. She felt the groping hands of the blinded dwarf behind her, shaking with anxiety.
"What are we supposed to be doing in here?" The voice asked.
Nur rose an eyebrow. "Waiting." She said, as though the answer was obvious. She knelt to the floor and told the newer dwarf to do the same.
With the quiet moments that passed, each learned the other's name. The newcomer was Oda, apparently a cadet that belonged to the same class as Nur, though Nur had never learned her name before this.
They spoke softly when two more bodies entered the room, and they could see from the meager light that one of them was of great build and height, standing only a few steps from the door while assessing the room. The other dwarf was smaller, comprised of sharp angles, and this body flitted off into the shadows, unspeaking.
Nur couldn't be sure, but she called out her friend's name in the hopes that her measurement of the built dwarf who had just joined them was not off. "Dul?"
"Nur." He breathed in relief. "Where are you, lass?"
"Just a few steps in front of you."
Nur was pushed forward by the bump on her pack and Dul's hands reached out, pulling her in for an embrace. She smiled, the familiar arms of her friend bringing her small comfort in this mysterious place, and patted his forearm before looking around again in the hopes that her eyes would somehow adjust to their surroundings.
Pulling her pack around to the front, Nur reached a hand into it and began fumbling for the feel of her flint.
"What are you doing?"
"Fire." Nur answered simply. "Or a spark. Anything."
"Are you allowed to do that?" came Oda's voice.
"Allowed?" Nur rolled the word around in her mouth. "Oda, I hardly think 'allowed' is something applicable to us in the Akkik."
Nur's hands worked the pieces of flint together and a spark of light shot out. Reaching into her pack again, she caught hold of a parchment paper and crumpled it, laying it on the stony ground beneath her feet. Striking the flint again, she set it above the paper and watched it flicker to life in a small fire.
Their eyes scanned the room and they saw that the stony walls were smooth except for a few random scratched-out lines, confirming Nur's earlier guess that they measured a few yards out and to the side. The ceiling was high, as she'd suspected, but her eyes rested on a corner of the room where a fourth person knelt.
Vaguely she could make out the dwarf lass with long, black hair and a strange mustache, a scowl on her face. She eyed the others warily, making no motion to come closer to them.
Nur chanced a look behind her. Oda was enormous, though it had nothing to do with her belly—her arms and legs were thick with only a slight tone of muscle, and her mousy brown hair looked almost sandy blonde. Oda's jawline was dusted with short stubble, though none collected on her chin.
Dul had not changed much, and this was a sight Nur was pleased with. She imagined her own build had changed a little in that five months, but Dul looked strengthened and healthy.
The light waned and the paper burned out entirely, but Nur was satisfied with the glimpse they'd stolen and shuffled her way to a wall, sitting against it and leaning her head back.
She heard Dul thump to the floor beside her, but was unable to see anything within the black.
Nur was not unwilling to make conversation, but Oda was a talkative spirit who lingered on the mystery of not having received any instructions in the closed-off room. Dul came to her aid, though, when the lass became irksome and he proceeded to ask questions about her home and family.
The first hour had been filled with talk.
The second hour had been filled with yawns.
The third hour had been filled with snores.
The twenty-one hours following caused Oda's panic to rise steadily. They were all tired of the room, but Oda was the extreme.
"I'm going to try the door." Nur groaned, rising from her spot against the wall and locating the dimmed outlines coming through the cracks of the door. It wasn't difficult as those lines were the only feature of the room any of them could see.
"But they've locked it!" Oda said in a whimper.
"And if this is a logic puzzle in which we are not free until one of us figures it out," Nur suggested, "then I for one do not want to be sitting here for another day, waiting to be rescued." The thought had passed through her mind that perhaps they were being tested in this room and that the dwarf on the outside had made a sound like the locking of a door without truly confining them, waiting for someone to try the obvious.
She pulled against the handle of the door, but it didn't budge.
She pushed against the door, but it didn't budge.
She kicked a powerful foot at the door, but it didn't budge.
"Am I supposed to call out some sort of password?" Nur called through the door, knowing full well that it was possible no one was there.
Laughter came from behind it. "No, lass."
Nur grumbled to herself, actively thinking on anything else she might try.
"It was a good idea, Nur," Dul encouraged.
Nur's hand rested on the handle again. It was extremely loose, and from what she could tell by the feel of it, it was a large wooden brick with a hole drilled into it, a curved ring of iron passing through the hole and anchoring it to the door. She jiggled it a little and realized it was loose was because the iron ring was not a closed ring, but a curve like a half-moon.
Her eyebrows raised when the handle came completely loose in her hand and she made her way to what she deemed to be the middle of the room with it. "Dul," she called, "can you please bring me my pack?"
She heard movement and the skidding of her leather pack being dragged along the floor. Dul bumped into her shoulder and muttered an apology while she reached for her flint from the bottom of her belongings, bringing out the flint and another paper.
"We're going to try this again," Nur called to the others. "I have the handle from the door, a piece of wood. But before I light this, I don't want to waste the light. What did we see the last time we had a look around?"
"The walls," Oda whispered. "They were covered with scratchmarks. Probably from the last dwarves confined in this room."
"Were there any other features?" Nur prompted, ignoring her scared companion's dismay. "Any filled-in windows, any cracks, anything?"
"None that I could see," Dul answered, "those walls are plastered smooth, and the ground beneath us is stone."
Nur hadn't taken a look at the floor the last time they'd had light, but Dul had, in the previous hours, crawled over every inch of their confines on his hands and knees to see if perhaps there was a trap door.
"What are we missing, then?" Nur gripped the flint, her own fear causing her to want to strike it immediately though her mind told her to keep planning before she did anything.
"The ceiling." Came the voice from the female dwarf in the corner. She had kept to herself in the last twenty-four hours, only growling at Dul when he'd accidentally touched her in his scouring of the floor.
"She's right," Dul reached out a hand to Nur's shoulder, and she presumed he was looking upward. "I don't know how long your fire will hold…"
"There's only one way to find out." Nur said, accepting the fate that they might be there another day if this last resort failed to turn up anything.
Happy Friday...! Or rather, late Thursday- I'm sure you've noticed I'm completely paranoid about getting chapters out on time, so when I have the chance to get them out before Friday, I TAKE IT.
A big thank you to my wonderful Beta readers: BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden! Really, these pages wouldn't be what they are without those two- and seriously, check out their stuff, it's better than mine ;)
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