Hi, dear readers! I'm back after another long hiatus, hopefully to stick around this time.
If you're still out there, I hope you enjoy this new chapter!
*Mwa*
~ Miriel
A couple of weeks into the new year, Bilbo's life had settled into the closest thing to comfort that he had known since leaving home almost 2 years before. It wasn't like being back home, but his days followed a similar path one after another, with no major challenges. It was a welcome change.
It did not mean, however, that he had made no new discoveries. On the contrary, every day that he spent on his appointed task of bringing the Royal Library of Erebor back to its former glory came with something he had not known before about the Dwarves and about Middle Earth in general. It was the kind of novelty that he was accustomed to and that he had always enjoyed delving into. It was the safe kind of novelty that he could enjoy from a distance because it lived only in "papers from the past," as Thorin liked to say. Ori always read out loud the titles of the documents and books that they handled, and sometimes, he went into detail about some of them, those that looked more interesting than others.
In fact, he had not seen much of Ori the previous day, as the young dwarf had been called into Thorin's chambers to take notes and draft some documents of the present. This had been happening more and more often lately, as plans for restoring Erebor were gaining detail under Thorin's increasingly involved supervision. It had not happened before, however, for Ori to be shunning his library duties for an entire day. Bilbo did not hold that against him, of course, as he knew how important it was to turn Erebor into a real home again, but he did hope that Ori would join him again the next day, at least for half the time.
His hope was rewarded quickly when Ori walked into the library that morning, a short while after Bilbo had sat down at his table, where a stack of books was waiting for him from the previous day.
"Good morning to you, Bilbo," said Ori, nodding his head and smiling, but looking a little tired.
"Good morning," said Bilbo and tried to make up for Ori's tired smile by putting more brightness into his own.
"I am sorry I did not return yesterday," said Ori, as he sat down in front of Bilbo. "Thorin needed me for the entire day almost, and then I wanted to put some of my notes in order."
"No need to apologise," replied Bilbo. "I understand."
Ori took a deep breath and let it out in a great sigh of relief that looked a little too great for it to be brought on only by Bilbo's understanding. The hobbit frowned a bit at this, hoping that he would get an explanation.
"Thorin was not in the best of moods yesterday," said Ori, his voice lowering almost to a whisper even though he was alone with Bilbo in the room. "I think he's had about enough of being locked up in the dark."
Bilbo had to admit that he had not gained the same impression of Thorin when he had seen him the previous evening, at least not a very strong impression that his day had been marked by a particularly foul mood. In truth, over the past two weeks, he only saw Thorin at the beginning and at the end of the day, and by the time he got to him in the evening, he was already too exhausted to show any real signs of anger or frustration. There was a definite sense of him having reached the last bits of his patience, but it was never spewed out in a blaze of fury. It was more of an afterthought that diminished his voice and slowed his gestures. What Thorin's mood required of Bilbo was only tenderness, and that was what he gave.
"Yes, he has," replied Bilbo. "He's been in there for a long time. It's not exactly what he is used to from what I've learned about him."
Ori broke into as much of a smirk as he was able to produce. "No, not exactly. With that in mind, I suppose his mood could be a lot worse."
They both laughed and resumed their work. They continued until around noon, when Dwarves usually ate lunch. Bilbo had joined Ori in the past few days, but today he decided to pay Thorin a visit even if it meant interrupting some important meeting over lunch.
What he found in Thorin's room was not what he had expected, however. He opened the door quietly to keep his presence as unintrusive as possible, but he was the one who was startled, so startled in fact that he remained there, in the doorway between the inside of Thorin's bedroom and the rest of Erebor, for a few minutes.
Thorin was on his feet, supported only by Dwalin's hands held out in front of him. They were halfway between Thorin's trusted armchair and the nearest seating available, which was the writing desk near one of the windows. This meant that they had made a few successful steps. Neither of them looked as if they were working particularly hard at walking, or providing support respectively. Even if Bilbo had tried his best to live up to a hobbit's fame of being surprisingly light on his feet, both Thorin and Dwalin raised their eyes at him as he appeared in the door frame. Thorin looked nothing like Ori had described him earlier. He looked elated, hopeful only as Bilbo had seen him that day at the top of the Carrock when they had gazed upon the distant silhouette of the Lonely Mountain, shimmering in the mild sunlight of early autumn. That day felt so far away now, and yet so close. They had come much farther now, to the very end of their journey, to the very heart of the Lonely Mountain.
Bilbo looked into Thorin's eyes and saw the same mild sunlight in them starting to fade with every moment that he kept staring at him without saying anything. He realised that his expression could have been mistaken for disappointment if someone had not looked inside his head and seen that it was mere surprise of the most unexpected kind. Although perhaps he should have expected, and hoped for this wonder to occur soon enough. After all, Thorin had been confined to his private rooms for longer than even the most patient person would have deemed tolerable. And yet, somehow, Bilbo was surprised to find him walking again, or at least attempting to walk with someone else's support.
"Thorin," he said, glad that at least his voice came out as unmistakeably relieved, and finally stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. "You're up!"
"Well, not entirely," said Dwalin. "It will be a while until he can go very far on his own, but still, you might call this progress."
Bilbo thought he could hear a hint of playfulness in Dwalin's voice, and something in the dwarf's collected posture told him that it was not just an impression. He had the distinct feeling that he was witnessing the way Dwalin usually talked around Thorin when they were not involved in battles for their ancestral lands.
"In fact," continued Dwalin, "I think I might even suggest we all take a walk outside."
"Outside?" said Thorin, shifting his gaze to Dwalin.
"As far as you can make it, of course."
Thorin did not seem capable of saying anything, but his eyes spoke everything there was to be spoken of his desire to feel the sun upon his face again.
"I think the sun is out today, right, Bilbo?" said Dwalin.
"I think so," said Bilbo, "I haven't really been out yet."
Dwalin ignored Bilbo's lack of knowledge about the day's weather. "Can you take over for a minute? I need to get his coat."
Bilbo almost didn't realise that he was being talked to and what he was being asked to do, but Dwalin's persistent stare became more than obvious quickly.
"Yes, of course."
He walked over to Thorin, ready to let his hands lean into his own for support, as Dwalin had been doing until then. He didn't know how heavily Thorin would be leaning on him, but he was confident that it would not be more than he could handle. Otherwise, Dwalin would not have made that request of him.
Indeed, when their hands met, Thorin's grip was not a heavy one. It was more like he needed the reassurance of something to hold on to while he kept himself standing, rather than proper physical support. His hands were very warm and very large. Bilbo had become used to the size difference between himself and most Dwarves, particularly Thorin and Dwalin, such that he did not notice these details any longer, but he noticed now how Thorin's hands had completely engulfed his own and how their fingers wrapped gently around his wrists. He also noticed, now rather than earlier, that Thorin's hands were not as rough as they had been. In the absence of wind, swords and hammers, they had acquired a subdued quality that was as close to softness as was probably possible for a Dwarf male.
Bilbo found the same softness in Thorin's eyes when he looked up at him. The flame of anticipation that he had seen in them just a minute before had mellowed into warm, hopeful relief. He found himself smiling back at it, and almost forgetting that Dwalin was also in the room with them.
And he would have forgotten if Dwalin hadn't appeared behind Thorin shortly, carrying his grandfather's cloak that he had worn before. He wrapped it around his shoulders, and, even if he had done it carefully, it had still startled Thorin slightly. He too had forgotten for a short moment that anyone other than Bilbo was in the room. From the brief look that Bilbo had caught in Dwalin's eye, the loyal dwarf had noticed, but he chose not to let it bother him too much.
"Shall we, then?" he said, coming up at their side.
Thorin gazed back at him and approved with a slight nod of his head. His touch became lighter on Bilbo's hands. The hobbit understood that he needed to let go and allow Dwalin to take back his place. Bilbo stepped back and released Thorin's hands. Dwalin was quick to return his support to his king, then started leading him slowly out of the room.
Bilbo remained behind for a few seconds. One of the feelings that had dimmed in him over the past two weeks was the sensation that he was in a world too big for him, taking part in things too heavy for his heart. That feeling descended upon him now once again as he had watched Dwalin place that heavy, fur-lined cloak upon Thorin's shoulders, which made him look like a king more than he did without it, and as he watched the two of them walk towards the door of Thorin's bedchamber at a pace that was comfortable for him, but that made this moment feel like a solemn ritual performed with the utmost care. The fact was, it did not merely feel like a solemn ritual. It was one, in a way. The first day of walking out of one's room after nearly dying and being confined to it for weeks would have been an important moment for anyone, but Thorin was not quite anyone, even if he was just as much a mortal as everyone else. This was not an important moment just for him, or for Bilbo and Dwalin, or for any of his friends. It was important for a whole race, even though only a few of them would be witnessing it.
It took a glance back from Dwalin for Bilbo to snap out of his thoughts. He finally started after them and closed the door as they slowly passed into the sitting room and further on. He continued to follow behind while they traversed the corridor to the Great Hall. There would have been room for him to walk next to Thorin, but something kept him from that. He was more comfortable there for now, in the shadow that Thorin and Dwalin's huddled forms cast into the candle-lit hallway.
As they approached the Great Hall, the corridor widened and branched out into several smaller corridors. At the same time, other dwarves started to appear here and there, not from the Company, but from the Iron Hills. Their reaction was understandably and invariably one of great surprise. They all stopped in their tracks and stared for a bit, as if to make sure that they were really seeing what they were seeing – Thorin, son of Thrain, King under the Mountain, risen from the very closely dead, something they had heard of but had not really gained solid proof of –, and then bowed their heads low, remaining that way until Thorin moved along. He always greeted them back.
Soon enough, word travelled to everyone who was close enough in the Mountain. As Thorin, Dwalin and Bilbo finally reached the Great Hall, many of the Dwarves had rushed there, including the ones in the Company, to see Thorin walk among them again. Even some of the people of Dale who had been given refuge in the Mountain were there.
If Bilbo had felt a little overwhelmed before, he had reason to feel even more so now. A few dozen people, Dwarves and Men alike, gathered under those tall marble walls, bathed in the sunlight that poured in from the bright day outside, bowing their heads at the same time, was a sight that would have weighed a little heavy on any heart. There was silence at first, a silence that marked this moment as a solemn one precisely because the Great Hall was usually a noisy place bustling with movement. Yet, as heads started to come back up, so did some of the voices, and soon, the Great Hall returned to a more subdued version of its usual atmosphere.
Not everyone resumed their activities, however. Fili, Kili and the other dwarves in the Company rushed to Thorin's welcome, and with them came Dain as well. They were all visibly overjoyed. Fili and Kili dispelled all heaviness and solemnity from the air by almost knocking Thorin over with a big double hug. Thorin grunted a bit from having his remaining injuries stirred, but received his nephews into his arms with a rumble of laughter. Even Dain welcome his cousin with an embrace, although he was more careful with how much of his affection he expressed upon Thorin in that way.
"Welcome, cousin," he said, "you are now officially back in the world of the living."
"It is good to be back," said Thorin.
"Well," Dain went on, "we were just having lunch, and a few rounds of ale, of course. Won't you join us?"
Everyone spoke up to endorse Dain's invitation.
"Perhaps later, thank you," said Thorin, "I really wanted to get some air first."
"Oh, of course," agreed Dain. "Just say the word, then, when you wish."
"I certainly shall," said Thorin.
He inclined his head slightly, in thanks for the attention he was receiving, although he was most probably expecting it, but also wanting to let everyone know that he intended to move on for the time being, towards the sunshine and fresh winter air waiting outside. The message was well-received as Dain and the others responded with a similar bow of their heads and made way for him to pass.
Then, Thorin and Dwalin resumed their journey, slow but steady enough, and Bilbo followed. He preferred not to look too closely at the people watching, not even at his friends. He exchanged a quick smile with Balin and Ori, but, for the rest, he kept his eyes either focused on the shoulder of Thorin's coat, which was in his field of view, or unfocused at all. He continued in that way until they finally reached the terrace overlooking the Front Gate and the valley of Dale.
The terrace had begun to look more like it belonged to a living kingdom. Since Thorin, Bilbo and the others in the Company had stood there together before the battle, the floor had been cleared of debris, the rampart remade, whatever remained of Erebor's flags flown and two guards had been posted at the main entrance from the city. Their martial posture and attire showed them to be members of Dain's army, but they clearly recognised Thorin as their commander as well. They inclined their heads at his sight, looking only slightly taken by surprise. Thorin acknowledged their salute and Dwalin led him on to the rampart, where, on a bright day like that, one could get a far-reaching view of the land before the Mountain.
It was a view that had been darkened by clouds of snow and battle the last time that Thorin had looked at it. As he looked upon it now, he took in a deep breath and rested his hands on the thick stone ridge. Now it was white with snow and there were only a few clouds in the sky, far on the horizon. No rumour of unrest travelled to his ears from the valley, only voices hushed by distance, trading ordinary conversations on the activities of the day.
Thorin's gaze shifted, as if pulled by a string, towards Ravenhill. He scrutinised the place for a while, his face growing only a shade darker, then he decided to speak to his companions.
"When I looked down from Ravenhill that day and saw that Erebor was ours again, I did not expect to ever enter it alive, nor walk out of it and look back."
"To be entirely honest," replied Dwalin, "neither did we for a while."
Thorin smiled at him. "One might say I have been given a second chance… to make a fine figure as King under the Mountain."
Dwalin smiled back and laid a hand on Thorin's shoulder. "I have no doubt that you will. I'll go back down to the lads. Call for me when you need me."
Dwalin nodded his head in another salute and walked away, back into the Mountain.
Thorin turned to Bilbo with a lingering smile that was as soft as the sun on that day. "I suppose this second chance extends to my behaviour towards you as well," he said. "I was not very courteous the last time we stood here together."
"Thorin, we already talked about that. There is no need to revisit the subject."
"Perhaps, but it is not so easily forgotten."
"Well, perhaps not to you. It has been forgotten to me for quite some time."
Thorin's smile widened and paired with a little nod that acknowledged Bilbo's forgiveness.
A moment of silence followed. They both looked out into the distance.
"If you'd like to be alone for a while, I can go, too," said Bilbo eventually.
"No," replied Thorin, "I have been alone long enough." Thorin's answer came easily, as if he did not really have to think about it.
Bilbo could only smile to that, and allow for another moment of silence. There was not much he could think to say, and perhaps it was better not to say anything further. He moved his gaze back to the vast landscape of the valley opening up at the foot of the Mountain, as did Thorin. There was something warm and comfortable in knowing that they could stand there without speaking to each other and not feel like they had to in order to fill the space between them. Something was already there and all they had to do was to let it be.
"Well," Bilbo spoke again, as there were still things that needed to be talked about at some point. "That was a tad overwhelming back there."
"Indeed," said Thorin.
"You thought it was overwhelming, too?"
"A tad."
"I thought you'd have grown used to it by now."
"It does get easier with time, but it is not something one can get used to entirely."
"Right," said Bilbo and shifted a bit on his feet. "You know that I cannot see you in that way, at least not as they do."
"Nor would I wish you to," replied Thorin, facing Bilbo again.
He had that soft look on his face again, and in his eyes. They were a particularly icy shade of blue under the pure sunlight, undimmed by cloud or window glass. They looked almost unreal to Bilbo. They looked as if they glowed from within with a light as ancient as the world, like sparks from the Arkenstone. And yet, there was warmth in their ice, as there was warmth coming down from the sun on that day of still deep winter. Bilbo breathed out in relief and looked back to the valley, allowing his own eyes to be filled by sunlight, almost blinded by it for a moment. He knew that his newfound routine was most likely over, but he was not entirely disappointed in that.
