DISCLAIMER: i DO NOT OWN THE HOBBIT
Here we come today,
To have our say,
And tell the tale,
Of the Kings Under the Mountain and of Dale (Verse Three of Requiem for Kings.)
Bilbo woke again the next morning and lay in his bed listening to the quiet sounds of Bombur and Ori in the kitchen. He did not get up immediately but took a moment for himself, taking in deep silent breaths to still the dull ache that always pounded inside ever since he left Thorin's bedside that terrible day. Then with a quick smile to comfort himself that all was well, he got out from under the sheets and padded out into the corridors. Balin and Dwalin had waked late into the morning; speaking in low hushed tones. Bilbo had tried to not listen but the soft words and hushed sobs; echoed through the thin walls.
He walked into the kitchen finding it amusing that he was getting used to finding dwarves cooking on his fireplace and setting the tables quietly in the early morning. He always marveled at the delicate way they handled things despite their quite rugged appearances. A hobbit could not do any better. Ori returned his soft smile, then he looked a bit worried.
"We won't have the same amount of food today for breakfast I'm afraid," Ori said in his soft light voice, "We shall have to go and buy some more victuals."
"That's fine," Bilbo said coming and inserting himself in the rough cooking circle that Ori and Bombur had set up, "It's Saturday today, so the markets will be filled with quite a lot of things. Everyone brings out their best to the Weekend Market. We shall go there after breakfast so we can have some time to go through the stalls."
Ori and Bombur nodded and soon a healthy conversation had begun about the various things they might find, hope to find and what seasonings would go well with said provisions. Of course seasonings led them to talk about that incident with the trolls; which led to laughing over how Bilbo had made the trolls think they all had parasites.
"And it was so hilarious when Kili yelled…" Ori said his eyes moist from laughter then his voice suddenly died away and a sob caught in his throat. He turned away quickly from the two of them. Bilbo and Bombur exchanged a worried glance and Bilbo reached out to touch Ori lightly on the shoulder.
"I'm fine," Ori said his body shaking from his fight to keep down the tears, "I fine, really. I'm sorry. I just… It is hard on mornings."
"I understand," Bilbo said softly, his own dull ache pounding inside him, "It is hard for me too." Bilbo felt Bombur's hand on his own shoulder.
"It is hard for all of us," Bombur said, "But the important thing is to remember."
Ori turned; his eyes now moist from a different kind of tear. He nodded sharply to Bombur and gave a watery smile to Bilbo. Suddenly they all gave a shout as a burning scent filled the air.
"The food!" they shouted in union and ran to the pots. The sorrow of the past was forgotten as they tried to salvage what food was left for the future.
The others were not very pleased with the half burnt mess, but they all still ate it albeit with a lot more jokes as the poor three cooks' expense.
Bilbo left with Ori and Bombur soon after; there was enough food to tide everyone over lunch time and even for snacks in between, and spent a lovely day with his two friends haggling with other hobbits over the price and quality of goods. At first there were hushed whispers of 'Mr. Bilbo's Dwarves' and some awed looks and some hesitant sellers. And then after Bombur and Old Farmer Maggot got right down to discussing potatoes and carrots and the different uses of both in various dishes; that broke the tension. Soon all the awe was lost in the rare novelty of haggling with dwarves. Not that any Hobbit would admit that they enjoyed it.
Night came to too quickly for Bilbo's liking. He kept the paper safely in his pocket at all times and often took it out to read the questions and wonder who would answer them this time. The sheets of paper was beginning to look quite creased and a little worn when Bilbo pulled out to read the third question before the company of silent dwarves.
"Who this day will speak the hidden truths of those who went into the light?" Bilbo read. He then folded the paper away and put it back into his pocket. He looked around at the faces of the dwarves who all seemed deep in thought. Then he heard a soft sigh and a voice spoke out into the silence.
"I remember Kili's first serious injury. Thorin had come barging into my home like it was his own; set down his nephew with his arm bandaged up in an a old tunic," Oin's eyes slightly glazed over as if he was seeing into the past as he spoke, "He asked very politely for me to tend to his Kili but I could see the hidden panic behind those eyes. Kili was whimpering and holding tightly onto his hand and with every cry I saw him hide the wince that ran through him. It was the first time I ever saw how much he truly cared. He held the boy still while I stitched the wound. I never heard the words that he whispered in Kili's ears but I saw the effect it had and the smile that it brought on the young prince's face. Thorin was to all, the King under the Mountain but to Kili he was King over his heart." Oin swallowed hard.
"I tended to them all when they were sick, in the harsh winters and when they got injuries in the forge that was too serious for Thorin to care for himself. Thorin would keep himself stoic when I was there and show no sign of being affected when I treated them and they cries and screams echoed in the room. But when he was alone with them, it was as if he was a different dwarf. He would hug them, and tuck them in. He would run at their every beck and call, he would cuddle them to himself and plant kisses on their foreheads. I even one time saw him enact a story out for Fili and Kili when they were bedridden with the flu," Oin's face contorted as if he wanted to cry but he held the tears in taking a swing from his mug.
"There was also one time when Thorin himself got sick. It was with a stomach virus and he had to stay at home. Fili and Kili had appointed themselves as his caretakers. And while they surely caused more harm than good, Thorin never chased them away. It is not that he didn't get annoyed and sometimes lashed out at them but he would always call them back to himself and apologize. And then they would sit around him, trying their own way to make him feel better. It was touching…" Oin looked at the mug again but didn't take another drink.
"All this time, I have been hiding from those memories," Oin said softly as if speaking more to himself that to the others, "Those memories and so much more of a love that I was allowed to witness and share in. Why? Tragedy and pain is all part of life. I see it every day. I have caused it when I have failed to save those in my charge. I have seen others come through it to be stronger, but I…I have become weaker. Wasting away like this."
He looked up and the slowly gazed around the room.
"I have failed in saving the memories that they gave me. I hid them under ale and strong wine. But now more now." And with that he tossed the mug into the fire place. A soft whoosh of flame shot out into the room and the one near the fire flinched back but no one said anything in reproach of the action.
"Hidden truths. There are no hidden truths of Thorin, Fili and Kili. We know them. We loved them. We saw the love they had for each other. They were the King and Princes of our people and the rulers of our home. But their true loyalty lay with their loved ones. And ran deeper than the roots of the mountains for each other. They were the Kings of each other's hearts and of our own. Let us remember." With that Oin fell silent.
Bilbo didn't need to take out the paper to know the reply.
"Thank you Oin. The Third Question has been answered
