Turas gun dùil
AN: I should be in the garden, but once again my weather has no idea what it is supposed to do so I am writing. I hope you are all well and enjoying yourself. I send you all the brightest blessings.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of Middle Earth's Characters, places or languages. They all belong to J. . I have merely borrowed them to play with.
Song of the day – 'Outlaw State of Mind' Chris Stapleton.
Quote of the day- "Be yourself; everyone else is already taken." – Oscar Wilde.
Chapter Two - Cuir a-steach ìre air chlì.
Comfortably full off his second breakfast, a rather megre (by hobbit standards) bowl of honey porridge, Bilbo had stuck his head out of his front door and upon being greeted by brilliant sunlight was tempted down to his garden bench to soak up the warmth. While he had never been as outdoorsy as his fellow hobbits, he had always enjoyed heat and bloomed like a Gardinea Augusta at dusk during the summer months. And while he had pottered in his herb garden for several months now, this was the first day that had been truly warm enough to simply sit. The weeds had been tamed in the days previous, all his accounting was up to date, and baring an emergency he did not have to leave his smial today. He breathed deeply the smell of fresh earth and sweet flowers as he struck the tinder and lit the long pipe. He wriggled his toes where they rested next to the bowl and enjoyed the first breath of Longfarthing leaf.
The warm breeze swirled around him and he relaxed against the stone back of the bench, free hand tracing the worn carvings of the seat. He allowed himself to drift in his own mind. Recalling sitting on this very bench, leaning against his mother, cold toes tucked under her skirts, bowl of harvest stew in one hand, as he listened to the harvest hymns echo up from the Party Tree. Eyes drifting closed he heard her husky voice, lilting harsh vowels as she translated the lyrics for him. Even as a kit she had been determined he would grow knowing as many cultures as she could teach him. To this day he was fluent in Cànan Siorrachd Inbhir Nis, Sindarin and Westron. All the while being passable in Khudzul and knowing a smattering of Quenya. Bilbo smiled softly as he recalled her sea-green eyes laughing down at him as he wrapped the single braid she wore around a chubby fist to examine its weave. He started to hum to himself, voice pitched a note lower than most hobbits his age, and lost himself to memories.
How long passed he couldn't rightly tell you, but he came to with something warning him an outsider was coming. He opened his eyes just in time to see the tip of a pointed grey hat passing further down the hill. Bilbo blinked as an old man with a staff came into view. It was how he was dressed that gave Bilbo an inkling that he was no ordinary human. The tall pointed blue-grey hat was the start, the long grey robes and cloak, along with the silver scarf and heavy black boots made up Bilbo's mind. He eyed the long white beard that trailed down the man's chest with a small hint of jealousy and self consciously patted the downy trail that ran down the side of his cheeks.
He shook himself and grinned up at the man, "Good Morning!" he managed to get out, and may have even meant it.
The old man peered at him from under bushy brows and Bilbo was struck by a memory of being a faunt and those eyebrows dancing above grey eyes. A name came to mind and he smiled wider as the man, known to him as Gandalf, replied.
"What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"
Bilbo laughed delightedly. "All of them at once I suppose," He patted the seat beside him, "And a very fine morning for a pipe out of doors. If you have a pipe about you sit down and have a fill of mine." Bilbo leant back further and crossed his legs behind the carved bowl of his pipe, offering up an embroidered bag. "There is no hurry, we have all day ahead of us."
He raised an eyebrow and pouted when the man looked as if he would refuse and then brightened when the grey clad person opened the rickety gate and stepped smartly through, sagging onto the bench slightly as he sat.
Bilbo smiled widely again and offered the bag and when the old man had filled his own pipe struck the tinder. At the raised eyebrow Bilbo explained his different approach to most hobbits. "It was màthair, she didn't solely go on adventures with the Sgòthan geala, she oft went alone. I believe she discovered this method in the Beanntan Gorm, some fellow named Dori taught her when she lost her matches. She wouldn't tell me the whole story, but she taught me how to use it and I must admit it is more helpful than matches."
Bilbo sobered slightly, "But how rude of me, Bilbo Baggins at your service my dear man."
The grey dressed man stirred and offered his own smile. "Gandalf at yours my good Master Baggins. Although I believe you just referred to me as the Grey Pilgrim." He chuckled, "Yet another name. So you are dear Belladonna's son! I was very sorry to hear of your parents' passing, I know it is a bit late but I offer my condolences."
Bilbo forced his smile not to waver, if the man was who he thought then he had greater things to deal with than a sobbing hobbit. "Thank you Gandalf, she would be glad you are here now, and I can't hold it against you for not visiting when I didn't seek you out."
Bilbo rolled his shoulders and sat straight again, allowing a moment of silence as they mulled things over and admired the Shire. "Gandalf?"
"Yes Master Baggins?"
"Why are you really here?"
"Really? Why Master Baggins I have…"
"Just don't!" Bilbo smile dto take the sting out of his words. "We both know while you would love to visit for fun, you rarely get the time to unless it is leading to something."
The grey wizard seemed to sink further in on himself. "I really want to just sit and blow smoke rings, but you are right. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure."
Bilbo raised an eyebrow, "I assume you have had little luck?"
"Aye, even across the water, and over the hill. I never used to have a problem getting Tooks or Brandybucks to adventure."
Bilbo patted his elbow and hummed as he thought. "Why don't you come for tea tonight Gandalf? I'll see what I can do."
"What do you mean Master Baggins?"
Bilbo shot him a wry smile, "I might be my mother's son, but I still have duties."
"And would the rest of today be long enough?"
Bilbo calculated quickly, "I would think so. I have travelled a little, I assume this time I will be away a while?"
Gandalf cleared his throat nervously, "That is a possibility yes."
Both Bilbo's eyebrows shot up, "And what aren't you telling me?"
"Would you be okay travelling with dwarves?"
That gave Bilbo pause, he had assumed it would be he and Gandalf as in his mother's stories, but then the dwarrow he had met had been pleasant company. "I think I would be." He considered something, "I reserve the right to bang heads together if I think they are doing something deliberately dangerous."
Gandalf coughed on his swallowed smoke.
Bilbo sucked in a sharp breath, "Did you say a Dragon!?" he didn't know his voice could reach that pitch. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Bring your dwarrow tonight and I will hear what they have to say. If their reasons are good I will aid them. If it is solely for gleaming gems and glittering gold I reserve the right to kick you all out of my home!"
Gandalf nodded and stood. "I will inform them then. If I hurry I can leave a message at the Green Dragon."
Bilbo swallowed a wince and nodded, watching the man leave, just as Gandalf was at the gate he sighed, "One moment." He raked in his pockets and came out with a stub of pencil and scrap of parchment. "Give that to the stable hand, he'll sort out any mounts." He stood and dusted his trousers. "I suppose I should go get sorted then."
Gandalf paused at the gate as Bilbo made his way up the stairs to his door. "Should I leave a sign? Or will you?"
Bilbo glanced over his shoulder, "Could you? I really do need to get the ball rolling."
"Of course Master Baggins." Gandalf smiled, "I will see you this evening."
"Until later then," Bilbo nodded, stepped smartly into his smial and shut the door behind him. There was much to be getting on with.
Heading to the pantry first he moved all the perishables to the kitchen and looked them over. There was enough for a substancial supper, and possibly a warm breakfast. He first sepperated the sausages and sliced the bacon, setting them on trays back in the pantry and firmly shutting the door. The side of gammon that he had hung, was prepared with some sliced oranges and cloves before being introduced to his oven. His largest pot was filled with a rich stew of spring lamb, potatoes, mushrooms and carrots, before being set to cook slowly.
Nodding to himself he slipped out of his back door and quickly made his way down the hill to the first door of Bag Row. He knocked politely and a quick conversation with the Gaffer had four runners at his disposal for the afternoon, and the promise of the Gaffer's personal hand looking after the smial and gardens while he was away. Promising the lads cookies, he kept them busy for the entirety of the afternoon.
It was closing in on tea time when he sent the last of the lads off with a handful of cookies. He had managed to get a letter in the post to the Mayor of Hobbiton, the Thain of Tookborough and the Master of Buckland. The Green Dragon had a lengthy missive, as did the Hobbiton stable block. The Sackville-Bagginses had received a note and the Bagginses had received instructions for the upkeep of the lands, collection of rents and other duties. Finally the Sanas àrd-sgoile of Hobbiton had received his notes on ongoing conditions and notification they would be covering his duties. Cracking his back, Bilbo wandered down to his cellar and marked the two casks he would want aid in bringing up to the main smial, he took a collection of wine with him back to the kitchen, and once there set that morning's bread onto bake.
Running hands through slightly wild curls he mentally went through what was left to do. He decided to sort his traveling gear and retreated to his bedroom, leaving the door open to hear better. He pulled the heavy traveling bag from under his bed and checked it for wear and tear. Its straps were sound, no holes had appeared since its last use and its waterproofing was intact. Nodding he pulled the chest that had been next to it out as well and opened the lid. The scent of camphor hit his nose and he sneezed, releaved that the moths would not have gotten in. At the top carefully wrapped were a small collection of daggers, throwing knives really. He checked the edges and frowned as he found a nick in one of the blades. Setting them to one side he was glad to find the small hunting bow was intact and its strings sound. The fletching on the arrows was firm, the shafts straight and heads sharp. He placed the bow and quiver of arrows by his travelling bag.
Sinking into a cross-legged position with a grunt he pulled out the waxed leather travelling cape, happy to find it was in good order, as were the heavy, unadorned, but utilitarian traveling clothes under it. His bedroll needed a couple of stiches and so he set it with his knives to sort later. His spare tinderbox was also present as was his traveling utensils and a spare tin mug of strange design. His mother's scarf, fingerless gloves, wrist guards and light leather jerkin were all still useable and fit, so he placed these on the bed with one set of the travelling clothes. Levering himself from the floor he dug through his draws to find some undergarments and spare shirts. Setting one lot aside on the bed he proceeded to pack.
Grumbling he left the room and returned with a grooming kit, a water canteen and a traveller's healing kit. The later contained only essentials, the main being a way to keep a wound clean and dry, mild pain relief, and a steamed needle and thread. From his pantry he brought a selection of non-perishables – his brief trips having taught him most other races didn't eat as he was used to, and although he could cope on less, he would prefer not to while getting used to sleeping on hard ground, under the stars.
Satisfied he was packed he turned to the mirror and dragged a comb through his curls, bemoaning the fact they were getting long, and tugging them into a small tail at the back of his head. He checked the chain carrying his mother and father's bands, smiling at the sight of the carved jade bead that hung between them. Calmed somewhat he tucked them under the collar of his shirt and straightened his clothes. He was just fastening the last of the buttons on his waistcoat when a knock sounded at his front door.
He smiled, his first guest was just in time. It was a good start. A quick glance around his room, he picked up the things that needed fixing and called out a pleasant "one moment."
AN: Please let me know what you think. I always appreciate feedback.
Gardinea Augusta – (Perennial)
While this shrub's pretty white flowers give off their signature smell during the day, they're even more fragrant at night. Plant these along your walkway or in your yard, and their sweet and strong scent will begin wafting around your home at dusk.
I will be using Scottish Gaelic for the language of Hobbits. Khudzul for Dwarrow and Sindarin for Elves.
Translation.
(Gaelic – English)
Cuir a-steach ìre air chlì – Enter stage left.
Cànan Siorrachd Inbhir Nis – Shire tongue.
Màthair-mother's.
Sgòthan geala- grey pilgrim.
Beanntan Gorm- Blue Mountains.
Sanas àrd-sgoile-Secondary healer.