Chapter Six: Misty Mountains
TA 2941, 26 April
After waking Bilbo with some smelling salts from Oin's bag, Ithilwen help Nori prepare camomile tea. Bilbo, who was moved to a chair in the study, held a mug of said tea as he spoke with Gandalf while Ithilwen remained standing quietly off to the side. "I'll be all right, let me just sit quietly for a moment." Bilbo said softly to the two, though he added a more assuring note while addressing Ithilwen.
"You've been sitting quietly for far too long. Tell me; when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you? I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who'd stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it's out there." Ranted Gandalf. Making Ithilwen tilt her head as she imagined a much younger and more childish Bilbo running about the Shire, playing pretend as his imagination got the best of him.
"I can't just go running off into the blue. I am a Baggins, of Bag End."
"You are also a Took. Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?" Ithilwen arched a brow as she focused her gaze onto the portrait of who she supposed was Bullroarer Took on the study wall.
"Yes."
"Well he could. In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin King's head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time."
"I do believe you made that up." Bilbo accused as Ithilwen chuckled softly. She had to admit it was a rather imaginative tale.
"Well, all good stories deserve embellishment." Ithilwen finally spoke softly as she looked to Bilbo. "You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back."
"Can you promise that I will come back?" There was a moment of silence before Gandalf finally answered.
"No. And if you do, you will not be the same."
"That's what I thought. Sorry, Gandalf, I can't sign this. You've got the wrong Hobbit." Bilbo set down his now empty mug and walked away down the hall. Gandalf and Ithilwen sighs as they watch him walk away.
Balin and Thorin, who had been quietly chatting in the hall, also gave a sigh as they see Bilbo walking away. "It appears we have lost our burglar. Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy-makers; hardly the stuff of legend."
"There are a few warriors amongst us." Thorin argued with a brief smile.
"Old warriors." Balin said modestly.
"I will take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that."
"You don't have to do this. You have a choice. You've done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor." Thorin held out the key Gandalf gave him.
"From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me."
"Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done." As they nod and clasp shoulders, the Dwarves gather in Bilbo's living room. Smoking their pipes by the fire, they all begin humming a haunting tune that seemed to memorize Ithilwen, and soon Thorin began to sing.
"Far over the misty mountains cold.
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To find our long-forgotten gold."
The others soon joined him as Gandalf listens from nearby and Bilbo listens from his bedroom.
"The pines were roaring on the height
The winds were moaning in the night
The fire was red, it flaming spread
The trees like torches blazed with light..."
