Chapter 9 – Peculiar friendships
His dance with Thorin was still fresh on Bilbo's mind when he walked to the library the next morning. For some reason his brain insisted on replaying the scene for him over and over again until he fled his quarters to seek refuge with the books, hoping that the monotony of dusting and cataloguing would help him clear his mind of unwanted thoughts.
Since it was still quite early, the library was completely empty when he arrived. There were no notes from Ori left for him, so he decided to just go work on the section of elvish literature that he had been sorting through a few days prior.
Ori arrived less than an hour later, looking lost in thought. Bilbo didn't pay him much attention besides a friendly nod, engrossed as he was in an ancient tome on the history of the First Age, but he looked up when the young dwarf wandered over and sat down on the floor next to him.
"Can I ask you something?" Ori appeared strangely nervous.
"Of course." Bilbo nodded.
There was a small pause, a fortifying breath and then Ori blurted: "Have you ever been in love?" The dwarf then promptly turned a bright shade of red and started fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve.
Bilbo blinked. That had certainly been unexpected.
"No," he said after a moment, "I can't say that I ever have."
"Oh," Ori looked disappointed. "I was hoping you might help me."
"Well, I can try to help you anyway, but don't expect much," Bilbo said. "If you are looking for expert advice on love, I'm really the last person you should be asking. Glóin or Dori would be a better choice, since they have both managed to persuade someone to marry them, but I suppose you came to me because you know I won't laugh at you."
Ori nodded.
"My brother would have a fit if he found out that I like someone and Glóin has an unfortunate tendency to babble when he gets drunk. I know you wouldn't say anything if I came to you."
"So, who's the lucky dwarf?" Bilbo prodded him gently when the librarian stayed silent.
Ori bit his lip and looked around them nervously a few times.
"I think I might fancy Bofur," he confessed in a whisper, "but I don't know if he likes me back."
Bilbo took a moment to appreciate the irony of the situation that he of all people should be asked to play a matchmaker. It seemed to him that the Valar sometimes had a very strange sense of humour.
"Well," he said finally, keeping his voice soft to avoid spooking the shy librarian, "Bofur is a very fine dwarf. I think you have chosen well. However, I have no idea if he likes you like that." He paused for a moment, remembering something. "Didn't he ask you for a dance yesterday?"
"He did," Ori nodded. "But that doesn't have to mean anything. He danced with you, too."
"I danced with plenty of dwarves yesterday," Bilbo said. "I think everyone wanted to dance with me because they liked the novelty. I accepted the offers because it's the polite thing to do. That doesn't mean I like any of them."
"Not even Kíli?" Ori asked curiously.
"Kíli? Why on earth would you think that?"
Ori shrugged.
"You two spend a lot of time together and he likes to flirt with you."
Bilbo chuckled, shaking his head.
"Kíli flirts with half of Erebor," he told Ori. "He and I are just good friends, nothing more."
"If you say so," Ori didn't look convinced, but let the matter be. "Anyway, would you be willing to subtly ask Bofur about me the next time you talk to him?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself?"
"I can't. Dori would get suspicious." Ori made face.
"That's rich, coming from Mr-I'm-getting-married-in-spring," Bilbo said. "Aren't you an adult by dwarven standards? He should let you live your life however you wish."
"Our parents died when I was very little," Ori said quietly. "Dori basically brought me up by himself with some help from Nori. He's always been overly protective of me. I didn't mind it much before, but it's a little stifling now."
"You can show him that you are an adult by standing by your choices, starting with your relationships," Bilbo told him. "I will talk to Bofur and see what I can do about it, but don't expect much."
"I'm glad that you're even willing to try," Ori gave him a smile. "If you do get us together, I will knit you a nice sweater for the winter."
"Well, if that's the case, then I will do my best," Bilbo said, making Ori laugh.
"Thank you," Ori said and got to his feet, disappearing between the shelves with a smile.
Bilbo turned back to his book, but couldn't muster up enough concentration to read the arcane elvish script. His head was distracted by his conversation with Ori. Why had the dwarf come for advice to him, of all people? Despite the few trysts he'd had in his youth, he had never been in love. It had been many years since he'd even felt drawn to someone, for Valar's sake.
But that last part wasn't entirely true, was it? a small voice in the back of his head gleefully pointed out. He had been attracted to Thorin, back when he had first opened his door and found the dwarf standing on his porch, looking at him with those piercing blue eyes. Said attraction had promptly vanished, however, when Thorin opened his mouth and put his foot in it with his unflattering assessment of Bilbo's character.
It had never been in Bilbo's nature to blindly like people who treated him badly and he didn't make any exception for Thorin. After the first few days, when the dwarf kept treating him like a particularly bothersome dog whose presence he had to suffer as a favour for the wizard, any fond feelings Bilbo might have once had had disappeared entirely. Thorin's subsequent promises of gold and glory that he started to give Bilbo after he had helped to free them from the elvish prison hadn't moved Bilbo's heart in the slightest.
Thorin's death threats at the wall had turned Bilbo's previous feelings of mild dislike and reluctant admiration into pure anger and the subsequent proposal had been one of the most illogical, ridiculous things Bilbo had ever seen. Since then, he had had five years to ponder his choices and he still stood firmly by what he had said back then. With the benefit of hindsight, Bilbo realized that even if Thorin hadn't banished him from the mountain, he would have probably left on his own anyway, because he wouldn't have been able to stand the king's presence.
Over the years he had been able to get to know the dwarven nature a little better and was now able to understand why some of the dwarves behaved the way they did. Thorin, however, was still a complete mystery to him. What had possessed him to make the offer to Bilbo in the first place? Bilbo had no idea and no intention to ever ask about it.
As far as he was concerned, it was all water under the bridge between them, and he was more than happy to turn a page and start anew with the king. Thorin was obviously making a lot of effort to help establish Bilbo's standing in Erebor and Bilbo wouldn't spoil the newly mended relations between them by reminding them both of the mistakes the king had made while he'd been half delirious...
...or by acknowledging the budding attraction that had been trying to worm its way back into his heart from the first time he had seen the king stand at the top of the stairs on his return to Erebor.
If there had ever been the most inopportune time to start noticing Thorin's attractiveness, it was now.
Much like his brain's new desire to replay the memory of yesterday's dance for him, the re-emerging attraction was highly inconvenient and Bilbo wished that it would just disappear altogether. It made staying in the king's presence uncomfortable and their interactions even more awkward than they already were.
It also tended to make him read more into Thorin's actions than there was. The king had been nothing but polite and co-operative since Bilbo had come to Erebor, but for some reason Bilbo's heart had jumped on the politeness and started to interpret it as something more.
Shutting the book and standing up, Bilbo told himself firmly to stop this nonsense at once. Thorin wouldn't be interested in a hobbit – and especially not a hobbit who had already refused his advances once before.
Bilbo spent the rest of the morning in the library, determined to avoid thinking about a certain dwarf. The solitude and the repetitive nature of the work helped him clear his mind at last, so when he emerged from the room for lunch, he was covered with dust from head to toe but calmer than he had been for days. He stopped by his quarters for a quick wash and a change of clothes and by the time he stepped into the dining hall half an hour later, he felt ready to face the world.
The tables were still in the U-shape configuration, since the celebrations were barely in their middle. Today's afternoon was supposed to be full of games and tournaments and Bilbo was looking forward to cheering on his friends. Tomorrow would be the last day that the elves spent in Erebor, as they were planning to visit Dale and spend the rest of their stay there. Bilbo doubted that any of the dwarves would be sorry to see them go.
"You are an elusive creature, Master Baggins," Thranduil told him when he sat down at the table. "You never seem to be around. Have you been hiding from us?" There was a small smile on his face when he looked at Bilbo.
"Oh no, I'm not hiding," Bilbo hastened to deny, "I just spend a lot of time in the library. There are so many fascinating volumes there." He gave the Elvenking a look. "In fact, I think I just read about you today. You used to live in Doriath, haven't you? Back before the land fell into the Sea."
A shadow ran over Thranduil's face and his eyes turned distant.
"Yes, I used to live in the west, many ages ago." He looked back at Bilbo. "It has been a long time since someone asked me about that."
"Could I ask you about it some time? Or should I not ask at all?" Bilbo said, watching the elf's face closely.
"You may ask me anytime," Thranduil said finally, his expression softening. "I would be happy to welcome you as a guest to my halls at any time and tell you about the ages past. It has been years since I last had an interested listener."
"I think I would like that," Bilbo gave him a smile. "I wonder if some of your elves would be willing to help me with my translations. There are so many books in the library here and only a fraction of them has been translated from elvish. Many of those stories deserve to have a wider audience."
"I am glad to see that I have chosen right when I named you an Elf-friend," Thranduil told him with a genuine smile. From the corner of his eye, Bilbo could see several of the dwarves gaping at them. Had they never seen the elf smile? Bilbo wondered.
"I have something for you," Bilbo said, reaching under the table. He put the bottle on the table before the Elvenking. "Well, a part of something, because I have a few more of these in my quarters. It's Shire wine, one of the best vintages of the last century," he explained. "I know you are fond of wine, so I thought I might bring you something."
Thranduil took the bottle and popped the cork, pouring the wine into his glass. He then took the glass and sniffed the wine, closing his eyes.
"This wine is old," he said.
"Around eighty years," Bilbo nodded. "I think it was made by my grandfather. It's one of the best varieties in the Shire. I was loath to leave such good wine behind for my relatives, so I took it with me."
Thranduil took a sip and a pleased expression spread on his face.
"This is excellent wine. Did you say you have more of it?"
"There are another nine bottles in my quarters," Bilbo said. "They are yours, if you want them. Just be careful with how much you drink," he warned the elves. "The Big Folk tend to underestimate the strength of our wine. It would not do to have elves falling under the table because they didn't know their measure."
The elves laughed.
"You are most generous, Master Baggins," Thranduil said.
"I like giving gifts to those who can appreciate them properly," Bilbo replied. Thranduil nodded in acknowledgement. "If you send one of your elves with me after lunch, you can have the rest of the wine straight away," Bilbo told him. "I know you are leaving for Dale the day after tomorrow, so I wanted to give it to you before your departure."
"I thank you for your gift," Thranduil said in elvish, putting his hand over his heart.
"You're welcome," Bilbo replied with a smile. He switched back to the Common Tongue. "If you ever wanted more Shire wine, I can tell you that one of my cousins, who just happens to be present in this hall, has recently become the owner of the very same wine yard that produced the wine before you. If you talked to him, I'm sure he would be more than happy to sell another few dozen bottles of last year's vintage to you."
Thranduil turned a thoughtful gaze towards the two curly heads sitting at one of the side tables. Bilbo hid his pleased grin in his own wine goblet. Even without Beorn or Gandalf, the two Tooks would now be the best protected travellers between Erebor and the Misty Mountains.
He caught Gandalf's amused look from the other side of the table and raised his goblet to him. The wizard responded in kind, his eyes twinkling. For someone who looked so old, he had awfully sharp ears.
"And that, my dear Kíli, is how you do politics," he heard Balin say. Bilbo didn't have time to see how the rest of the dwarves had reacted, because Legolas drew him into a conversation about the Shire and its customs.
The elven Prince decided to come with him after lunch, to help him carry the bottles to Thranduil's quarters.
"I saw the tapestry you made for the dwarves," Legolas said as they walked towards Bilbo's rooms. "You must like them a lot to be willing to put so much work into the piece.
Bilbo shrugged.
"They are my friends. Of course I like them."
"I simply cannot understand how you can be friends with elves and dwarves at the same time," the elf said, shaking his head. "We have such different natures."
"Maybe you should try befriending a dwarf, too," Bilbo told him with a smile. "You might find that you like it after all."
Legolas visibly shuddered.
"No, thank you. I would prefer to avoid that completely, if possible."
Bilbo laughed at his obvious distaste.
"Your loss, then. They can be very loyal friends when you get to know them better."
°O°O°O°
He returned to his quarters half an hour later to find Gandalf sitting in one of his armchairs, waiting for him.
"Hello, Gandalf," Bilbo greeted him. "What brings you to my quarters?"
"Can I not pay a visit to an old friend of mine?" the wizard raised an eyebrow.
Bilbo gave a small sigh, sitting into the armchair opposite the wizard.
"Your visits are rarely social calls," he said, reaching for his pipe. "We both know it. What do you want from me this time?"
"Where is the ring you found in the goblin caves on your first journey here?" Gandalf asked, looking at him intently.
Bilbo did a half-hearted search of his pockets, but already knew he wouldn't find anything there.
"I left it in the Shire," Bilbo told him. "I noticed that it was making me feel miserable when I carried it in my pocket for long stretches of time, so I locked it away in one of my night-tables."
The wizard's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
"You did not bring it with you?"
"Why would I?" Bilbo asked. "I admit that the ring was very useful when I needed to sneak around a sleeping dragon, but what would I do with it here? If I ever feel a need to hide from my friends I can just lock my doors or go for a long walk to Dale. I don't need a magic ring for that."
"And you did not feel compelled to keep the ring?" Gandalf looked incredulous.
"Well, when you put it like that..." Bilbo gave it a thought. "Yes, I believe I could feel it calling me sometimes, like it was trying to convince me to put it on." He looked up at the wizard. "Does that make any sense?"
Gandalf was frowning.
"I am not sure what to make of it. I think I will need to take another look at the ring. You are sure that you left it the Shire?" He gave Bilbo a piercing look that made the hobbit feel like he was trying to see into his soul. Bilbo squirmed a bit, but didn't drop his gaze.
"Yes," Bilbo said. "I spent several days trying to decide whether to take it with me to Erebor or not, but it just didn't feel right to bring it here." He sighed. "There has already been so much grief caused by gold. It wouldn't feel right to have the dwarves start arguing again over a magic ring." He shook his head. "No, it's better where I left it. I think it passed to my cousin Drogo Baggins along with the estate of Bag-End. You can ask him to find it for you, if you wish to see it again."
"I think I will," Gandalf said quietly. He sat silently for a moment before his frown cleared up, his current problem resolved. He gave Bilbo a small smile. "Well, now that this matter is out of the way, come and tell me how you find Erebor so far..."
Bilbo launched into a lengthy tale about his life in the mountain, happy that the strange topic of the magic ring was dealt with. Gandalf was very curious about his relationships with the other dwarves, especially Thorin. Bilbo managed to skirt around the issue of his dealings with Thorin well enough, but something must have slipped through, because the wizard got that knowing look that he always had when he thought he knew something other people didn't.
They would have probably talked the whole afternoon, if the sound of distant trumpets didn't interrupt their conversation. They both looked up at the sound and Bilbo jumped up to go look from his balcony.
There, far below on the green field in front of the mountain were dozens of little figures mingling among rows of colourful tents and stalls, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight.
"The tournaments!" Bilbo exclaimed. "I nearly forgot about them!" He hurried to his wardrobe to take out his winter jacket.
"You should probably go down to join the festivities," Gandalf told him. "Your friends will be wondering where you are."
"I can just tell them that it's your fault," Bilbo said with a grin. "They would understand."
The wizard watched him with a pleased smile.
"Life in Erebor seems to suit you better than I would have thought."
"It is a little unexpected to realize that, even for me," Bilbo admitted. "But I think I'm really happy here. Happier than I ever was in the Shire."
"I am glad to hear that," Gandalf said. "Now run along before the dwarves accuse me of kidnapping you."
Bilbo threw him one last grin and hurried out of the door, towards the entrance gates.
"Where have you been?" Kíli said in agitation when Bilbo finally arrived at the field before the mountain. "We nearly started without you."
"Gandalf stopped by for a chat," Bilbo said in explanation. The dwarves' expressions turned understanding.
"What did he want?" Dori asked.
"He wanted to ask me how I like Erebor. I'm afraid I got rather carried away," Bilbo told them, watching the pleased smiles appear on their faces. "So, what is this tournament about?"
He turned to survey the field before them.
"We thought we might have a bit of friendly competition with the elves and the Men of Dale," Balin said. "It was Bard's idea at first and we decided to join in. It promotes good relations between our realms."
Bilbo looked at the nearby groups of dwarves, all geared up and ready for the competition.
"I bet it does."
Balin gave him a knowing look, but didn't say anything else.
"Bilbo!" a voice called to his left. He turned to see two familiar curly heads heading in his direction.
"Have you seen this place? It's brilliant," Fortinbras said when they arrived. "I've never seen so many different folk together. Our country fairs in the Shire have nothing on this."
"Are you going to compete, too?" Bilbo asked them.
"Maybe," Isembold said. "We can't do any of the fighting stuff, but I noticed that there is a knife-throwing competition. That might be something for us."
"You can throw knives?" Gimli asked, looking sceptical.
"Well, no, but we're both pretty good at darts. It's almost the same thing." Isembold made a careless wave with his hand and turned back to Bilbo. "You're not going to compete, Bilbo?"
"No, I don't think so," Bilbo told him with a smile. "To this day, I still have no idea how to hold a sword properly and I have never touched a bow in my life. I think I'll just find a nice comfortable spot and watch you all do your best."
"I think there was a stone-throwing competition over there," Fortinbras said. "You should try it."
Bilbo sighed. It seemed that everyone was determined to have him compete at least once.
"Very well, I will have a look at it later. I think you should run along now, before they start without you."
They turned on their heels and disappeared into the crowd, Gimli trailing after them. Bilbo turned to the rest of the dwarves.
"Are you all competing?"
They all nodded.
"I'm going to win the archery contest," Kíli announced proudly, stroking a hand over his bow. "All the elves have signed up. They are going to be so surprised when I win."
"You are awfully sure of yourself," Bilbo told him. "Those elves can shoot."
"Then give me something for luck that will improve my chances of winning?" Kíli asked with a smile, taking a step closer. "A token, perhaps?"
Bilbo ignored the whispers from the dwarves around them.
"Do I look like a maiden to you?" He asked Kíli in mock-annoyance, but was already untying his necktie.
"No, but you blush prettily enough for one," Kíli said with a roguish grin.
Bilbo's eyes narrowed.
"Keep that up and I will strangle you with this, I swear."
"You wouldn't." Kíli raised his left hand for Bilbo to tie the piece of cloth around his wrist.
"Oh, I would." Bilbo gave him a glare. "Do you want to risk it? I've killed orcs for much less." He tied the cloth a little tighter than he should have and enjoyed the dwarf's wince. "If you want that adjusted, go ask your brother," Bilbo told him with a sweet smile. "I'm sure he will be happy to help you."
Kíli took a step back, rubbing his wrist.
"Will you wish me luck?"
"Good luck," Bilbo said. "You will need it. I heard that Legolas is the best archer this side of the Misty Mountains. If you annoy me, I will root for him instead. Now shoo."
Kíli strode away to join his brother. Just before they walked out of earshot, Bilbo heard Fíli hiss: "Do you have a death wish? You won't be able to enjoy your share of the bet if Thorin kills you in the process."
Bilbo sighed a bit at their antics and turned back to find that the remaining group of dwarfs had mysteriously dispersed in the meantime, leaving only Thorin behind. The king was looking at him with a frown. Bilbo wondered what he had done now to offend the dwarf.
"You and Kíli seem...close," Thorin said.
Bilbo shrugged.
"He's one of my closest friends. We spent together a few months when we travelled back to Erebor, which allowed me to learn a lot about him. I think he got a bit homesick over the time he was separated from his brother and he latched onto me as the next best person around." Bilbo smiled. "He has such cheerful nature; it's impossible not to like him."
"Indeed." Thorin appeared deep in thought. "Not all of us can make friends with such ease."
"There's nothing wrong with that," Bilbo told him. "I never noticed Dwalin having a problem finding company despite him being a dwarf of few words."
"Are you going to court Kíli?" Thorin asked suddenly, forming the words with some difficulty.
"What?" Bilbo asked, taken aback. "No, no. Certainly not. I know he can be a bit flirty at times, but there is definitely nothing romantic between us." He lowered his voice a bit. "I will freely admit that he is attractive, but he is like a brother to me, or a younger cousin. It would feel incredibly wrong to start something with him."
"Oh." Thorin visibly relaxed. Bilbo thought that he was probably relieved that Bilbo wasn't trying to marry into the family. It would be terribly awkward if he had refused the king only to go after his young nephew. The family dinners alone would be unbearable. He decided to change the topic.
"Are you going to compete in the tournament as well?" Bilbo asked him.
"Yes, I think I might after all," Thorin said. "It wouldn't do for a king to sit idly while his men take all the glory. If you'll excuse me, I'll go and prepare." He gave Bilbo a nod and walked off. Bilbo stared after him, puzzled. What on earth had that been about? He decided not to dwell on it too much and instead went to explore the tournament field.
The tournaments took place on the flat terrain between Dale and the raising slopes of Erebor. There was a large arena in the middle of the field, with newly built wooden stands on both sides. Around the arena stood dozens of smaller stalls and stations where one could compete in a chosen skill or try their luck at a game of chance.
The tournaments were supposed to start that day after lunch and end in the late afternoon the next day, with a large feast for the winners planned for the final evening. There were several main competitions that were held in the arena for the entertainment of the guests - archery, wrestling, sword-fighting, knife-throwing and fist-fighting. Each of those competitions would have a winner who would get a crown made of flowers, an attractive prize and a seat of honour at the feast.
To qualify for the main event, one first had to succeed at the preliminaries held at the stalls next to the arena. Besides the main competitions, there were also plenty of other, smaller ones where anyone could compete with others for smaller prizes. The skills those tested ranged from useful (timed fire kindling) to completely obscure (horseshoe throwing).
As the turned a corner, Bilbo spotted a huge board that had the names of the contestants in the archery competition. That one had drawn a lot of the elves and Dale-folk, who had come to pit their skills against each other. Kíli was the only dwarf in the competition. A little further stood the boards for later competitions, each of them attracting a crowd of people - both those eager to compete and curious onlookers.
Bilbo finally managed to find the rock-throwing competition that Fortinbras had mentioned and made his way over to it. The owner was a kind older woman who was more than happy to let him throw as many rocks as he wanted. Bilbo only missed one target out of twenty, so he won a beautiful crimson scarf as a price. It was made out of a nice light fabric and very warm (Bilbo thought it had been probably made by elves). He didn't waste any time before he wrapped it around his neck and went to search for a place from which he could watch the main games.
As he was weaving his way through the throng of people in search for a place to sit, Dís fell into step with him, subtly steering them away from the crowd.
"What have you done to my brother?" she asked.
Bilbo looked at her in bewilderment.
"I beg you pardon?"
"I said: what have you done to my brother?" she repeated. "Just this morning, he was determined not to join the games. He said that it would look bad if he got humiliated in front of the elves and that pastimes like this were for the young. Now he has signed himself up for two disciplines and looks awfully determined. Since you were the last one who spoke to him, it must have been you who convinced him to participate."
"I didn't convince him of anything," Bilbo shook his head. "I am as surprised by this as you are. We spoke a bit about Kíli and then he suddenly decided that his men shouldn't be the only ones to show off their skills and walked off. I have no idea what made him change his mind."
"Do you." Dís gave him an assessing look. "For someone so smart, you can be surprisingly slow on the uptake sometimes." She gave him a small ironic nod and disappeared back into the crowd.
Feeling even more confused than before, Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Balin standing near the side of the main arena. He made his way over to him and leaned on the wooden rail next to the white-haired dwarf.
"Everyone is determined to make no sense today," Bilbo complained.
"You have talked to Dís, I presume?" Balin said with a knowing smile.
"Among others," Bilbo nodded. "Apparently, Thorin has taken it into his head that he will compete in the tournament and somehow it's my fault. I have absolutely no idea what's going on anymore. Can you enlighten me a bit?"
"I would love to, but I cannot," Balin said. "It would be against the rules."
"Ugh," said Bilbo, running his hands through his hair. "Not you, too. Has everyone gone mad today?" He sighed in frustration. "I cannot play the game if I don't know what the rules are."
"Realizing that there is a game at all is the first step," Balin told him.
"You are worse than Gandalf sometimes, do you know that?" he told Balin. "I thought that only wizards built their living on being cryptic and mysterious."
"At my age, I am allowed to be as cryptic as I wish." Balin looked rather amused by Bilbo's puzzlement.
Bilbo shook his head, an involuntary smile making its way on his face.
"Very well, keep your secrets if it makes you happy. I'll find out sooner or later anyway what is going on." By silent agreement, they started walking towards the stands. "I assume you are not competing in the tournament."
Balin chuckled.
"I find it much more entertaining just to watch. My days of needing to prove anything to the world are long over and I am glad for the peace. My brother, on the other hand, has been looking forward to this event for weeks. He is determined to become the resident fist-fighting champion."
"I have no doubt that he will succeed," Bilbo said. "He has never lacked determination."
They managed to find seats in one of the front rows, so that even Bilbo had a good view of the arena and got settled down comfortably, their warm clothes protecting them from the November chill. The stands were filling slowly with people from Erebor and Dale alike, everybody looking excited to watch the games. The organizers put the last finishing touches to the archery course prepared for the first discipline and the crowd tittered in anticipation when the appointed Master of Games walked into the arena to give the opening speech.
The tournaments were about to begin.
To be continued...
AN: I wanted to preserve as much of the LOTR cannon as I could. The ring has stayed in Shire, where it will pass to Frodo eventually. Frodo may not grow up with Bilbo, but he will have two Took uncles who will be more than happy to tell him tales about Uncle Bilbo, who went to live with the dwarves.
Next chapter will be posted tomorrow, on September 29.
