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Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or its characters.
The Loudest Silence
Chapter Five
"Blunt the knives, bend the forks!
Smash the bottles and burn the corks!
Chip the glasses and crack the plaaaates…
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
I was almost afraid to move when dishes were flying past my face. The Dwarves had a good flow going, tossing plates to be cleaned and setting them back up neatly on the table, and I really didn't want to be the dunderhead who ruined the fun. I was sure that while Bilbo appreciated me saving him some food, he probably would not like me too much if I broke his deceased mother's dishes.
"Drop the cloth, tread on the fat,
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!
Pour the milk on the pantry floooor,
Splash the wine on every door!"
As the song ensued, there was a nagging feeling in the back of my head, like I was forgetting something. Their song was very entertaining, both musically and visually, but my nerves were suddenly making themselves known. It was that feeling you get when you walk into a room and fail to remember what you came in there for though you knew it was something important, and it was causing my stomach to do odd tumbles.
"Dump the corks in a boiling bowl,
Pound them up with a thumping pole,
And when you're finished if any are whoooole…
Send them down the hall to roll!"
Balin's expression blatantly said he had witnessed these shenanigans quite a few times and it made me curious to just how often Dwarves did this. It was like High School Musical logic up in here, where everybody was magically in the right place at the right time, choreographer be damned. I watched as Balin bounced plates back to the twirling Fili, who then threw – wait.
Fili.
Line of Durin.
And then I remembered… Thorin! Thorin was going to be arriving soon. Oh my God. How could I have forgotten?
"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
No no. That's what Jenna hates. Meeting a Dwarven King that I had posters of in my bedroom, who I had read unspeakable fanfictions of, who I thought was a total hot tamale, but I also looked up to? To me, at that moment in time, the prospect was anything but pleasant. Not to mention the whole, 'oh yeah, I'm supposed to go on this quest with you but I don't have any fighting skills and can't even talk so the odds of me actually saving your life at the end of this are not good, but hey, I can make an Origami turtle!'
Yeah, that was going to go over so well.
Bilbo had just scurried into the kitchen as the singing ended, spotting all his dishes – cleaned, piled neatly, and completely undamaged – and the Dwarves laughed together at his expression. Gandalf was chuckling along right in the middle of it, knowing as I had that everything would turn out alright. The Hobbit's look of surprise was quite amusing, I admitted to myself, even if his panic during the whole thing had not been. His nervousness levels rivaled my own, and that was saying something.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The room fell silent as all heads turned towards the front of the house. Ever the dramatic one, Gandalf waited a moment, to build unnecessary suspense before speaking.
"He is here."
Really. I never would have guessed.
Everyone began shuffling into the other room, following the wizard and Bilbo, and my anxiety began to climb. Then thinking about my anxiety caused me to get even more nervous, though, until I just wound up forcing myself to take a deep breath and trail after them. I went around to the entrance hall after the brothers Ur, deciding at the last second that I wanted to put this off as long as possible, and hid behind Bombur and Bifur. I ended up slouching to keep out of sight, only barely peeking over the younger's head. Just in time, too, as it was then that the door was opened.
"Gandalf," came the deep, familiar voice of Mister Majestic himself. The Dwarf King stepped inside after a moment, continuing, "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."
I willed myself to stop shaking like a Chihuahua after getting a curious look from Nori. 'Find your chill, Jenna, good God. You met all the rest of them just fine. He's just another Dwarf... Who, like his nephews, is destined to die in a few months.'
Shit. There went my chill.
By that point, Bilbo had pushed past Dwalin and Dori in the other hallway to find out who was speaking about the defacement of his property. "Mark? There's no mark on that door – It was painted a week ago!" the little man stated.
Thorin Oakenshield took off his travelling cloak and handed it to Kili, giving his nephews a smile in greeting, looking every bit the regal leader he was. Yes, his nose was just as sharp in person. Yes, his hair's tantalizing waves were just as shiny. Despite us being roughly the same height though, his presence and the way he held himself demanded attention like nobody else in the room. Except maybe Gandalf, of course, but that might've been height related.
When he glanced around the entrance hall to see who showed up, I was suddenly thankful for the shadows in the archway where I stood. Thorin's brief scan of the area slowed, but then his attention was dragged away by Gandalf's introduction of Bilbo before he spotted me.
I didn't know I had tensed until my shoulders drooped, and I exhaled as quietly as possible. I was a nervous little thing, unable to handle confrontation very well – in case that wasn't as obvious as the axe in Bifur's head – and my heart was having fits. I could sense a panic attack on the rise and felt like an idiot for allowing myself to get worked up to the point of my body rebelling.
I wanted to get out of that hall before I barfed from anxiety, and compose myself prior to dealing with the inevitable dispute that would occur when I tried to join the Company. (Yeah, sure, most convincing argument of your durability ever: upchuck all over the floor!) Eating dinner with them was one thing. But coming along on a dangerous quest to reclaim a kingdom halfway across Middle Earth? From the clutches of a dragon, no less?
I didn't dare show him my tattoo, either. Even if it was basically proof that I needed to be there. Honestly, I weighed the option for a long time, but kept coming to the same conclusion. It would be suspicious as hell, and I knew Thorin wouldn't be pleased with something like that popping up out of the blue, on an outsider to boot, and there was no way for me to explain its existence to him. Even if it was a slim chance, I prayed that the brothers Ur would stay silent about it.
These thoughts passed through my head as Thorin was busy circling Bilbo like a judgmental vulture with great hair. I made a decision then, and turned to Nori, who had been glancing at me now and again throughout the whole thing anyway. No doubt I looked more like an alarmed gecko than a human girl.
I pressed a hand to my gut area, making circular motions and grimacing in response to his unspoken question. My pained look must have been somewhat convincing, because the suspicion left his face, replaced by understanding. I jabbed a thumb in the direction of the bathroom then.
He just nodded, and whispered halfway teasingly, "Go do what you've gotta do. I'd be careful though; Bombur's last visit nearly finished off those pipes."
Ew. TMI, Nori.
I scrunched up my nose as Bombur turned his head upon hearing his name. Nori shrugged at the large Dwarf, saying quietly, "Just tellin' it like it is."
Shaking my head, I snuck off just as the group chuckled at Thorin's comment about Bilbo looking like a grocer. Which was more than a little rude, considering the Hobbit was their host, and as far as they knew, he was supposed to be a burglar. Bit of a jerk way to introduce yourself, Thorin. Why was I nervous about meeting this Dwarf again?
By the time the crew dispersed from the front of the entrance area, I was over halfway across the house. The round hallways were lit every so often with little oil lamps, though not as brightly as the more occupied parts of the dwelling. It was a very cute home, warm and inviting in its simplicity. If I recalled correctly, the bathroom should have been right over – ah ha!
Once I snuck into the bathroom and quietly closed the door, I really did wind up having to go tinkle, but I didn't leave right away afterwards. The few seconds my toilet break gave me were not nearly enough to calm my nerves.
'Let's just… uhh. Let them talk about the map first. I mean, that's an important conversation, right? Yeah, that's it. And the burglar spiel, too. Gotta give that Hobbit his contract.'
I mentally fed myself justifications for prolonging the inevitable, and took the chance to stick a cold rag on my face, hoping it would help. I stood at the sink, taking a washcloth from a neat little pile on a shelf, figuring that Bilbo wouldn't mind. I mean, he was going to be gone for the next year or so anyway, so it hardly mattered if I dirtied up one rag.
The mirror above the small sink did nothing for my worries. I looked every bit like someone who would easily become warg chow, so why did I think Thorin would believe my addition would be helpful? The whole thing was just a pain in the neck.
As I stared at my round-faced reflection, I realized I was acting like a child, hiding in the bathroom this way. Being afraid of confrontation would get me nowhere in this world, and I wondered if that was why the Valar sent me here in the first place. To teach me a lesson? To make me grow a backbone, or whatever?
If I had any chance of convincing them to let me come along, I had to start right then. (Frankly, I should have started about ten minutes ago when Thorin first walked in, but hey, why not let him have a little soup first before I ruined his evening and/or entire life?) I absolutely had to go with the Company, regardless. I had to save three people who didn't even know me, I had to get my voice back, and I somehow had to get that woman to send me home at the end of everything. I was more than willing to help Fili, Kili, and Thorin. The ending of the story I found myself in was devastating, and if I could change that, then I would, but it didn't mean I wasn't terrified. I knew what challenges they would face on the way to Erebor and… well. I was not exactly Katniss.
Across the house, I heard a sudden racket of voices, followed by one yell from the Dwarf King to silence them. I figured Thorin was giving his rousing speech right about then. Sure enough, moments later there was another uproar that sounded more like cheering than arguing. When it fell quiet again I decided that I had been in the bathroom for plenty long enough. I was as calm as I was going to get in this crazy situation and hiding out like a mouse would earn me no points with these guys. Not to mention Nori thought I was still in here evacuating my bowels.
I took a long breath and exhaled slowly before stepping out into the hall. I meandered through the comfy Hobbit Hole once again, merely following the sound of conversation. When another loud disagreement could be heard amongst the Company, the house creaked and abruptly turned cold.
"If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" reverberated throughout the dwelling, Gandalf using his magic to intimidate the Dwarves. Bag End steadily returned to its normal temperature soon after, and the cozy feeling came back. I waited a moment, making a mental note to never piss off a wizard, before continuing down the hall.
"…very well," I overheard Thorin saying as I neared their location. "We will do it your way. Give him the contract."
There was a shuffling of paper – Bilbo protesting with small 'no's over and over – as I stood in the archway of the atrium. The contract was shoved onto the Hobbit's chest by Thorin, after Balin gave a short explanation as to what the paper contained. Bilbo was more than a little worried at the mention of "funeral arrangements."
Thorin's back was to me as he stood from his chair, exchanging a few quiet words with Gandalf. The wizard was the only one I could see in the dining room aside from Thorin, at my angle in the hall, though poor Bilbo was now a few feet in front of me, pouring over the contract with apprehension.
"…Lacerations… evisceration?" the Hobbit read, turning to face the others. "Incineration?"
"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur supplied. There was a long pause as Bilbo tried to calm down, speaking about needing air, when the Dwarf continued, "Think furnace – with wings. Flashing light, searing pain, then puff – yer nothin' more than a pile of ash!"
I suddenly wanted to whack Bofur with his own hat when the Hobbit wobbled, breathing shallow. He was about to have a panic attack, which I had literally just fought off moments ago. Panic attacks were a familiar thing for me through High School, though I thankfully hadn't had one in a long while – at least before coming to Middle Earth.
It was then that I knew I dallied enough. Regardless of the verdict, I couldn't fret over this meeting anymore, and panic attacks sucked. If they said no to my joining, then I would just find another way. 'Pffft, yeah right.'
Thorin was instantly alert when I walked into the atrium with false confidence, as he stood in the doorway of the dining room. I refused to look over out of nervousness, focusing on the Hobbit in front of me instead.
"And just who would you be?" Thorin asked brusquely, arms crossing. In my peripheral, I saw Bofur peek his head out of the dining room, and Gandalf standing up, likely to brace for any bad reactions. The others behind them watched the whole development with interest.
Bilbo noticed me after a second as well, and turned his head slightly in my direction. "Oh, ah – sorry I… seem to be a little faint…" he said breathily. For a moment he straightened up, and I went to go put a hand on his shoulder.
I didn't even get to try teaching him my breathing exercises, because when my hand was almost on him, he up and passed out regardless. I quickly moved forward, grabbing around his chest despite the sharp pain in my arm and carefully letting the small man slide to the ground, instead of just dropping like a rock. That never did look very comfortable to me.
I knelt by Bilbo's unconscious form for a second, before forcing myself to look up from my crouching position and face the music. Thorin appeared impatient that nobody had a response to his question yet, and aggravated that their supposed burglar fainted at the simple mention of danger. He was clearly unimpressed by this entire evening. The rest of the Company simply observed with varying reactions, as Bofur glanced apprehensively between everyone in the atrium, probably rethinking his decision to bring me. Hell, I was rethinking his decision to bring me.
"Are you going to answer me or not?" Thorin demanded, and I might have cringed.
At that, Bofur finally cleared his throat, dragging the king's glare away from me and onto himself, the brave soul. He said in a somehow simultaneously polite and warning tone, "Ah, turns out she's actually a wee bit mute – can't talk or nothin', so…"
Thorin glanced back over to me, seeming a little thrown off by that, but the scowl was still heavily present. The only thing I could do was give him the world's most awkward, tiny wave, trying to smile. This was not nearly as charming as I wanted it to be, apparently.
"So…? Who is she?" Thorin asked turning back to the miner.
Gandalf chose that moment to make his announcement. He did it cautiously; in a way that made me sure he already knew how well his words were going to go over, and everyone looked to him as he spoke up.
"Thorin, this would be Miss Jenna Hollander… your fifteenth member."
AN: I'm not going to pretend to know how Hobbit plumbing works, so don't hold me to that.
But anyway~ Thorin's officially in the picture and our next chapter may or may not have a tattoo reveal. ;)
I know I probably gush about it, but thank you again for all your incredible reviews! Never be afraid to leave one, because any feedback or constructive criticism is appreciated. Let me know what you think. :D
Until next time!
