Bilbo cried into Thorin's robes until he had no more tears to cry, and when he looked up again to Thorin's kind, gentle face, he was quite ashamed by it. He was sure that his eyes were swollen and red, and not nearly as clear as Thorin's were, like the sky over the Mountain on a cool spring morning. Thorin caressed his face, his rough fingers brushing reassuringly against Bilbo's tender skin, as if to tell him that there was no shame in it, and that things could be alright in the end.
"I have to go," said Thorin, "I'm needed at the Treasury again."
Bilbo could only whimper an "Mhm" in return.
"Will you come to the King's Dining Hall this evening and have supper with me and a few other key guests?"
Bilbo almost found himself smiling and was actually able to utter a word. "Who?"
"Dain, Balin, Fili and Kili," said Thorin.
"Oh," said Bilbo, especially at hearing Dain's name.
"Will you come?"
"Uh, yes, yes, of course. What time?"
"Oh, around 8."
"Right."
"Excellent."
Thorin took away his hand, but the look he gave Bilbo, full of fire and sunshine, made the hobbit think that he was about to gift him with a searing kiss. Instead, he simply lowered his forehead in conspiratorial fashion, then made his way out of the room, leaving Bilbo a little stunned, but at the same time more relieved than he had been in months.
At 8 o'clock in the evening, Bilbo walked into the private Dining Hall of the King of Erebor, wearing his best borrowed clothes. He had never been there before. He had dined with Thorin many times, but it had always been in his quarters. This was an entirely different business, and he would not have really called it private necessarily, at least not by Shire standards. It was a large room with high ceilings and tall, carved pillars, solemn statues of Dwarven warriors guarding the four corners of the room, and a magnificent chandelier made of gold and studded with precious gems lighting the table.
Bilbo was not exactly the first one to arrive, although he had hoped he would be. Dain, Balin, Fili and Kili were all sitting around the table with Thorin, sharing a few pints of ale.
"Good evening," said Bilbo, in a hurry, "I am sorry I'm late."
"No matter, Master Baggins," said Thorin, radiating a sort of prideful glee under the light of the great chandelier above the table. "We just sat down. Would you care for a pint?"
"Uh, yes, why not?" said Bilbo, smiling a tad uncomfortably as he sat down in the chair next to Thorin, which was the only one unoccupied.
He was getting slightly strange looks from everyone, which he was not surprised by since he had been late, and it seemed to him that Thorin was downplaying how late. Dain's gaze was particularly sour, which also didn't quite surprise him considering their earlier discussion in the Throne Room. Strangest yet was Thorin's demeanour. He looked positively delighted by Bilbo's lateness.
Bilbo did the only thing that seemed sensible. He picked up his pint of ale and said, "Well, to what are we drinking?"
"To the future," said Thorin, raising his own pint.
Bilbo devoted his ale to the future, wondering not without slight trepidation what the next few hours would bring him. There was something unusual about being invited there, in this very official setting, to share supper with the most important occupants of the Mountain, and some of the most powerful people in Middle Earth. He felt honoured, of course, but a part of him squirmed in anguish at the thought that they might ask him to do something dangerous again.
The evening went on without such requests, however. In fact, Bilbo found himself able to sit back into the comfortable role of an observer as the conversation flowed quite naturally from one topic to another, all related to the massive work being done to repair the destruction brought upon by the dragon. No one had really addressed Bilbo over the couple of hours he had already been there, other than the brief question from Balin about the state of the Hall of Records, and he was quite happy about it. Until there was a pause, as there always comes one. Bilbo noticed Thorin leaning further back into his chair at his side and placing his pint of ale firmly on the table.
"Dain," said Thorin, "I would like you to start preparing the coronation ceremony."
"Certainly," said Dain, with a slight bow of his forehead.
"Consider Fili and Kili at your disposal," continued Thorin, casting a warm glance at the two young dwarves at his side, "they need to learn how it's done."
Thorin lay a strong hand on Fili's shoulder and gave it a tender squeeze. Fili and Kili were suddenly looking a lot more serious than they'd looked the entire evening.
"And, Bilbo, perhaps you could help Balin with the invitations," said Thorin as he turned to Bilbo, shattering his dream of comfort.
"Uh, yes, yes, ha, why not."
"Good. It's settled, then. I want to have the ceremony as soon as my sister returns from the Blue Mountains."
"Of course, cousin. We will see it done," said Dain, rising from his seat. "I do believe it is time to call it a night."
Everyone rose slowly from their seats, including Bilbo.
"Stay for a few minutes, Bilbo," said Thorin, as he stood up and saw his other guests out of the room.
Bilbo sat back down, his hands flat on the shiny surface of the stone table, as if to make himself know that something in his present life was plain and simple. Thorin walked back soon enough, his smile only now showing his tiredness, and sat back down next to Bilbo.
"Are you sure you want me involved in this?" asked Bilbo.
"Of course. None of us would be here without your help. It is only fitting that you are involved."
"Well, I have arranged a few parties in my time, but never one fit for a king."
"I don't know about that. Gandalf tells me Hobbits throw the best parties, except for us, perhaps," said Thorin, his smile now having acquired more of a cheeky quality.
"Gandalf? When did Gandalf tell you about Hobbit parties?"
"I don't remember exactly, but he mentioned it at one point."
"Right… I look forward to seeing him again," said Bilbo, smiling back to Thorin.
"As do I."
"I hope he brings his best fireworks. If ever an occasion called for fireworks…"
Thorin laughed as he sat back again in his chair, taking another sip of his ale. Bilbo still felt that everything about this evening was unusual, but he also found that he could ease into it without much effort even if now he was not only an observer anymore. He thought about the last time he had thrown a party in Hobbiton. It had been for his 50th birthday, the year before Gandalf had visited to invite him on an adventure, of all things, although he should not have been surprised, if he thought about it now. Gandalf was, after all, a wizard with a special talent for disturbing the peace everywhere he went.
Bilbo would have never imagined that, a year later, he would be sitting with Thorin in his grand mountain halls, plotting his coronation party. It was strange and familiar at the same time, a little intimidating but also rather easy to picture. Of course, Thorin had always radiated a very royal manner. No one could have really taken him even for a lowly Dwarf lord, as he had referred to himself in his time of weakness, let alone for a common dwarf. But now it would become official, he would no longer be Thorin Oakenshield as he had been introduced to Bilbo and as Bilbo had known him all along. Now he would be crowned King under the Mountain, after centuries in which the world had forgotten that the Mountain had a king, and Bilbo had to admit that it was hard for him to imagine such an event. It would certainly have to be a little more ceremonious than a Hobbit party, but he was glad to help in any way he could. Most of all, he was glad he could share in that moment, which he knew to be hard to believe for Thorin as well, even though he was acting as if it was all very normal business.
"Why did you want me to stay behind?" asked Bilbo.
"No particular reason," replied Thorin. "Perhaps to end the evening on a less formal note."
"Hm… By the way, you seemed almost glad that I was late. Why was that?"
"I wasn't glad, it was simply not something to worry about."
"Right… Thorin, did you just informally introduce me as your chosen consort?"
"I could do no such thing unless you formally accept," said Thorin, tilting his head in that protective way of his.
"Why do I have a hard time believing that?"
"I would not do that, Bilbo. My request to you was made in all seriousness. I would never disregard your right to consider it for as long as you need. I simply wanted to show you and them that you are important to me."
"Well, that's… that's nice," said Bilbo, a little embarrassed. "I think I should call it a night as well."
"Of course. Thank you for coming."
They were now both standing in front of each other, and Bilbo didn't really know what to say or do. The most appropriate thing to do seemed to be saying good night, but there was something else hanging in the air between them waiting to be plucked. Thorin didn't seem any more intent than Bilbo was on actually doing that, so the something, which Bilbo really didn't know how to name, was left hanging, like a cloud of incense, in the space between them.
"I'll, uh, see you tomorrow then," ventured Bilbo, planting his hands on his hips, as if he was about to go gardening.
"Of course," replied Thorin with a small bow of his forehead that seemed to encapsulate the whole atmosphere of that royal evening.
"Right, well, good night then."
"Good night, Bilbo."
Bilbo actually found it hard to walk away, to his own surprise. He had no idea what he would have stayed for, in fact. He had nothing more he could say to Thorin at that very moment. Perhaps he would have just stared at him, and perhaps Thorin would have just stared back. It sounded silly when he ran it in his head, but somehow he could see it happen and it was not silly at all.
He shrugged to himself as he made his way to his room, or Thorin's sister's room, if he had to be precise about it. He wondered about her now, about what she was like. She was probably very much like Thorin, stern and imposing upon a first impression, but perhaps a little more cordial. Or perhaps she was even more demanding that Thorin was. There was no way of knowing unless he met her, and as curious as he was about meeting her, he had to admit that he was also terribly intimidated by the idea of it. He was not quite sure why. Perhaps the fact that he was occupying her room and that he had been asked by her royal brother to remain at his side as he ruled the Dwarven kingdom had something to do with it.
Bilbo swallowed the knot that had grown in his throat as he entered the room that had once been the childhood bedroom of Princess Dis and was now his temporary lodgings in Erebor. He sat down on the sturdy but soft bed and looked at nothing for a while, trying to make peace with his thoughts.
His hand proved to have a mind of its own as it went to his pocket and dug out the ring he had found in Gollum's cave, which he had carried with him all day long, and which had bailed him out of many troubles, not to mention the Company and the Quest. Without that ring, which could make him disappear from sight and therefore gave him the magical power to do anything he wanted without being caught, Thorin and his thirteen dwarves would have been devoured by those vile giant spiders by now, or they would have still been trapped inside Thranduil's gaol, or the Arkenstone had never been found and Thorin would have remained a king without a kingdom and a crown. It was precious to him. It had helped him stay alive, and to help the Dwarves.
Yet, there was something else about that ring that he found unsettling, and even malevolent if he really tried to find a word for it. Something was not right about that ring, and as much as it had been of help to him during the Quest, Bilbo wondered now if he should simply not put it away somewhere safe, somewhere only he knew about, and let it rest there, away from him. After all, he had no more need of becoming invisible now that the Mountain had been won and there were no more foes to be foiled.
Bilbo took a deep breath and stood up from his bed, ring tucked in the palm of his hand. He looked around and set his gaze on the chest of drawers against the wall to his right. He went to it, rummaged inside for a bit, and found a neat hiding place for the ring among the old linens that still lay folded in one of the drawers. He closed the drawer after taking one last look at the ring and he instantly felt a few pounds lighter, although he knew that was not sustained by the facts of having been eating delicious Dwarven food for a few good months.
He walked back to his bed. His thoughts drifted inevitably to the question Thorin had asked of him. It was impossible to know how he would make a decision about that. It helped that he knew he didn't have to decide right then and there. Perhaps a day or a moment lay somewhere ahead when he would simply know, as he had known on the morning he had woken in his own bed of 50 years, and in his family's home devastated by a troupe of wandering, noisy Dwarves, knowing that he had to follow those Dwarves on their adventure, or he would have regretted it for the rest of his life. At any rate, he could take that night to rest and not think about anything, really, other than his last moments alone with Thorin, perhaps. Something about those few minutes had warmed his heart so that he could see himself holding that memory in his mind as he allowed sleep to embrace him.
The next morning, Bilbo woke well-rested and looking forward to his day for the first time in he didn't even remember how long. At least he was looking forward to it while he still lay in the warmth of the bed, peering through heavy eyelids at the pearly ray of sunlight that seeped into his room from the ceiling. It looked as if it was made of the finest wool laced with stardust. He could only imagine the lovely scarf he could have knitted from it.
After having stretched his limbs to his satisfaction, he rose from the bed and did his best to prepare himself for the day ahead. He noticed as he looked into the mirror that he looked much better than he had looked the previous morning. That could only be encouraging.
Also unlike the previous morning, he was quite hungry, in spite of the feast that he had attended the night before. He didn't quite feel like going to Thorin's quarters. They had not discussed having breakfast together that morning. In fact, what he would have liked best would have been to share the morning tea with Gandalf and his ancient wisdom. Unfortunately, Gandalf was nowhere near Erebor at that time.
There was, however, someone nearby that Bilbo found just as comforting to talk to. That was Balin, of course, the one dwarf of all the company that seemed to have his wits about him no matter what challenge he faced. And Balin was not hard to find, nor was he hard to convince to share his breakfast time with Bilbo. In fact, he quite welcomed it, especially now that his brother was gone to the Blue Moutains.
"Balin, can I tell you something?" said Bilbo with a slight dampening of his voice as a pause arose in their very pleasant conversation about Thorin's coronation plans.
"Of course, laddie."
"Well, I… I'm not even sure I'm supposed to tell anyone, but I supposed I can tell you, Thorin trusts you."
"Bilbo, what is it?"
"Thorin asked me to… be his consort."
"Oh!" said Balin, his fork suddenly left hanging in the air.
"Oh, indeed," replied Bilbo, setting his own fork on the side of his plate and leaning back into his chair.
"What did you say?"
"Well, I… I haven't said anything yet. Thorin says he understands that I need time to consider it."
"Indeed…"
"What do you think I should do, Balin?"
"Oh, it's not for me to say," said Balin, tilting his forehead the way he usually did when he had to think about a sticky situation. "It seems to me like it is entirely up to you."
"Is it, though?"
"What do you mean, laddie?"
"Well, it's not like Thorin is any other dwarf, if you know what I mean."
"Mmm, that much is true."
"He has duties and responsibilities and so forth. I can't help thinking that some may not agree with his choosing me to be his… well…"
"I suppose that is true as well, but he has chosen you, it seems. He would not have asked you otherwise. Thorin would never make such a request lightly."
"I know, but…"
"What do you want?"
"I don't know."
"I suppose that was to be expected. It is not easy to accept such a request in general, let alone when it was made by a king. Listen, Bilbo, if Thorin is giving you the time you need to consider it, take that time and think. You have a life in the Shire that we took you from. There would be no shame in wanting to return and be with your people. But if you want to stay at Thorin's side, only listen to your own heart's council. Those who do not agree will simply have to get on with their lives."
"Will they, though?"
"I expect there will be some grumbling here and there under some beards, but that is not your concern, or Thorin's. He is the rightful king and he has two very deserving heirs in Fili and Kili. I do believe the line of Durin will endure for many more ages, and Erebor will be a great kingdom once more. If you are really asking for my opinion, I think we would be very fortunate to have you with us in the years ahead."
Bilbo smiled to him, his heart filling with sunshine that made him blush, he was quite certain. It was tremendously comforting to hear such words from a dwarf, even if that dwarf was Balin, the keeper of the most well-balanced disposition of them all. It gave him hope that he could reach some sort of a peace of mind over the topic, not to mention a decision, hopefully before another year went by.
There was much for him to consider, not the least of which was wilfully leaving Bag End and moving to the Lonely Mountain. What a strange idea that was, a hobbit living under a mountain instead of a cosy smial nestled in the earth of the Shire. It would have certainly been a strange idea for the hobbit that he had been when he had last sat in his armchair in Bag End, telling Gandalf that he could not run off into the blue just because he had asked him to. But he had, hadn't he? He had gone on Gandalf's adventure, and now he was here at the other end of Middle Earth, faced with another adventure of another kind.
Something in him wanted to stand up, plant his hands in his hips, push his chin out and refuse to go on any more adventures. Something in him wanted to go back home to his simple life and small pleasures of every day. Something in him had tired of wandering around Middle Earth, and of being faced with a new challenge almost daily. There was another voice in his mind, however, faint and timid, telling him to wait a while before he did that, to think, and try to imagine what his life could have been like if he had stayed, to search the dark corners of his heart for an answer, and find the courage to face it, whatever it would be.
