I hope you all enjoy this chapter – there's a song in it to which I've made up the lyrics, but it's based off the song Lord of the Dance, both the hymn and the Riverdance version. If those mean nothing to you, don't worry, it's just how I imagine a lot of hobbit dances to be!
Please forgive any typos, I hope that you enjoy it!
Chapter Four: The Song of Storms
Bilbo's organisation was impeccable. The caterers kept a constant supply of food and drink flowing, and when the 'Howling Hornblowers' bowed off of the stage there was another band there immediately to take its place. There were magnificent presents for everyone attending – including the musicians and caterers – and not one of the several hundred guests was lacking something to do.
There were dozens of games set up, for those ranging from their toddling years to adulthood, and there were puppet shows and storytellers (Bilbo and Bofur being the most popular) and the merry atmosphere had even the Sackville-Bagginses smiling.
To say that Frodo was overwhelmed was a slight understatement. When he had first stepped foot in the meadow to the deafening cheers of those nearby, he had turned redder than Gimli's waistcoat, and felt his stomach curl up like a frightened hedgehog. That any party of this magnitude could be for him was rather remarkable – far more remarkable than he was himself, for that matter.
But overwhelmed as he was, Frodo was not surprised. He had been raised by Bilbo, after all. His uncle would do anything for a party, and was well known on both sides of the world for spoiling 'his boys' absolutely rotten when it came to things like this.
"Frodo! Happy birthday!" cried Pearl, running over with flowers in her hair. She kissed him on both cheeks and then hugged him fiercely. "You look wonderful. Come, dance with me!"
Frodo laughed. "We've not been here five minutes! No one is dancing yet."
Pearl clucked her tongue, leaning in as though telling him of the latest scandal. "I know, it's awful. We'd best remedy that at once."
Chuckling, Frodo bowed and held out his hand, and she tugged him over to the dancefloor, which spread out before the stage. There were dancing alone for less than a minute before they were joined by Sam and Vinca and a few others, and soon there were no less than thirty hobbits and several dwarves skipping along to the Howling Hornblowers' song.
They quickly fell into a particularly energetic dance known as the Snapdragon, which involved an awful lot of jumping, and Frodo laughed as Soren and Ehren tried to keep up with the steps. Ehren actually fell over his partner, and had to roll out of the ring lest he be trampled by the hobbits, and Soren got so distracted laughing that he forgot to move out of the way of Esme's leap and got clonked on the nose. Bróin, on the other hand, was doing incredibly well, as was Bifur, to Frodo's surprise. He was dancing with Sam's oldest sister, who had shown her late mother's patience when it came to leading him through the steps.
Frodo glanced over at Sam, and laughed in delight. Vinca was spinning further than she was supposed to, and pushed the lass before her into Sam's arms, taking a startled Tolman Cotton as her partner.
Leaving a startled Samwise Gamgee to dance with a beaming Rosie Cotton.
"Aw," crooned Pearl, glancing over her shoulder at Sam without missing a single step. "They're so sweet together."
"Don't tease him!" warned Frodo, though he, too, was grinning.
She raised her eyebrows at him. "Do I look like Nelly?"
Frodo rolled his eyes.
Half an hour later, Frodo could not dance another step, no matter how much Pearl protested. He collapsed onto a nearby bench with Merry, Pippin and Sam, and groaned as Pearl waltzed over.
But instead of dragging him up again, she offered him a mug of ale.
"Thank you," Frodo gasped, taking it eagerly.
"Where's mine?" asked Pippin indignantly.
"Not your birthday," said Pearl lightly. "Are you enjoying yourself Frodo?"
He nodded, grinning wryly. "Aye – not sure I can dance any more though. Not for a while. Are you?"
"Oh yes," she enthused, hardly sounding out of breath at all. "Dwarven balls are all well and good-"
"Pfft!" Pippin snorted, crossing his arms. "You love the balls! You try and convince Thorin to throw them every month!"
Pearl rolled her eyes, though her voice was patient as ever as she spoke to her brother. "Well, yes, I do love a good ball, but there's nothing quite like a hobbit party. I've missed the dances. Ooh! When we get back we should throw a dance, hobbit style!"
"That sounds like a wonderful idea, but no one will've grown up learning the steps." Frodo frowned, but then his heart lifted. "We'll have to teach them!"
Pearl sighed happily. "I can't wait." Then she pushed her hair from her eyes. "Drink up, little cousin."
"Excuse me," Frodo raised his eyebrows. "I am of age now, and you most certainly are not. Being two inches taller than me does not make me your 'little cousin'. You are my little cousin."
"Only six months and I'll be of age too!" Pearl pinched his cheeks and then danced out of reach. "Bye-bye, baby Baggins!"
"Don't bother trying to retort, Frodo," said Pippin, sighing heavily. "I've seen her babying Bofur before. I want an ale."
"Go and get one then," Merry said, earning himself an elbow to the ribs from Pippin. Nevertheless, the young Took got to his feet, and scampered away into the crowd, returning with tankards for himself, Sam and Merry.
Together, they did a round of the entertainments at the party, bumping into others along the way, but largely staying as a four. There was no one Frodo was closer to – save perhaps Fíli and Kíli – and by the time Bilbo rang the gong for dinner, he had laughed so much that his lungs ached.
The food had stopped coming a few hours previously, so the announcement of dinner drew enthusiastic applause from the crowd. Frodo ate and ate until he was fit to burst, and then leant back in his chair and listened to the chatter around him.
One of the wolves snuffled at his fingers beneath the table, and he snuck them down a scrap of beef from his stew. He did not dare check which it was – Auntie Dís was not over-fond of wolves at the table, let alone under it.
Slowly, the smattering of cutlery on plates gave away fully to the sound of contented chatter, until someone called out, "Speech! Speech!"
Frodo glanced at Bilbo by his side, and his uncle smiled and stood up.
"Well, all right then," he called indulgently, though Frodo knew full well that Bilbo loved a good speech. For all his talk of being a simple hobbit with simple needs, Bilbo Baggins was a drama queen at heart. "My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Proudfoots-"
"Proudfeet!" roared Odo Proudfoot croakily, shaking his tear trumpet to prove his point.
"Proudfoots, Goodbodies, Brockhouses, assorted dwarves and other guests," Bilbo began. "And oh yes, not to forget the… dear Sackville-Bagginses! To you all, I say welcome and thank you! Thank you all for coming to celebrate my dear cousin's birthday."
Resounding cheers made Frodo's face burn, but he grinned and clapped with a "Hear, hear!"
"While it is also my own seventy-third birthday, I think that we can all agree that Frodo's thirty-third – his coming of age – is infinitely more important. I have had the great honour of raising him for the past twenty-two years, and I am both delighted and proud to say that Frodo Baggins has become a fine young hobbit."
The cheers at these words were louder yet, and there was an explosion of applause. Beaming, Frodo raised his glass appreciatively at Bilbo, who bowed his head and smiled warmly.
"Your parents would be very proud of you," he said softly, "and I am sure that they are here in spirit with you today."
There was a much quieter smattering of applause now, and Frodo smiled sadly. He still missed his parents, and their absence still hurt, but with the help of Bilbo, his family and the Mind Healers of Erebor he had long since made peace with their deaths. When their faces swam in his mind they were smiling and hugging him. They were happy.
Bilbo cleared his throat and clapped his hands together. "After our many adventures and misadventures, there are many stories that I could tell today, but as it is not my day I would like to invite Frodo to say a few words for himself."
Frodo, who had been expecting this, smiled and stood up. "I would simply like to thank everyone for coming, and thank my uncle, aunt and the rest of our family for organising this wonderful party. So please, my friends, drink yourself merry and enjoy the dancing!"
An enormous, tumultuous cheer rose up like a wave at his words, and as if waiting for that very cue the Howling Hornblowers leapt back onto the stage and took up their instruments, accompanied by several young hobbits with their birthday presents. Many little flutes and pipes and drums had been given out by the Bagginses, and within seconds a lively tune was rousing the well-fed crowd.
Frodo danced until his feet felt like rocks, and his hands bore several scratches from the number of people who had grabbed them to demand a dance of their own. The night had grown dark around them, the little ones were falling asleep in their seats and the third band were playing by the time he slumped into a seat to catch his breath.
But he had only been down for a second before Kíli pranced over, and took him by the shoulders. "Alright, Frodo, the time has come."
"The time?" Frodo blinked, but then he saw the glint in the dwarf's eye, and he gave a nervous laugh. "Ah… The drinking game."
While it was perfectly acceptable for an underage hobbit to have a drink or two, getting fully drunk was frowned upon before your thirty-third birthday. It was very similar in Erebor, though the hobbits seemed to have been held to a higher standard than their dwarven counterparts. Merry had suggested it was because they were still so young in numbers, according to what dwarves knew, and Frodo had to agree. As such, Frodo had never really played any drinking games before. He had an awful feeling that it would not end well.
"Don't worry," Kíli said, wrapping his arm around Frodo as he stood up. "We'll look after you."
He ushered Frodo over to a table tucked away behind a large tent, where Fíli, Gimli, Soren, and Bragi were sitting. Fíli patted the seat behind him, and Frodo sat down, looking up apprehensively at Ehren, who stood nearby.
"Right," Ehren declared, "The rules: the judge gives a category and you go around the circle saying something related without repetition or hesitation. If you do, you must empty your drink. Last dwarf or dwobbit standing wins. At least, that's the normal rule. But it wouldn't do to make you vomit on your birthday, so instead the winner'll be the first person to win five rounds. Got it?"
Frodo nodded. "Why aren't you playing?"
"He cheats," said Bragi, passing Frodo a mug. "So it's best if he's the category giver."
"Judge," Ehren said with a frown, and Frodo chuckled.
"Very well… let's go!" he said.
"Wonderful!" Ehren clapped his hands together. "You'll all get the same drinks in the same order. Any spewing and you're out. If at any time you want to surrender, raise your left fist in the hair."
"And don't worry," Kíli said soothingly, patting Frodo's hand. "You're a hobbit and a newer drinker than we, so really you stand no chance, but it's good fun anyway and we'll look after you if you black out. Should the worst come to the worst, there'll be someone to get you home safely. You don't have to worry about anything. Just sit back, play and for the love of all things holy do not let Bilbo see us. Right, over to you, Ehren!"
"Right," Ehren cleared his throat. "The first category… types of flowers."
Frodo laughed as everyone but Kíli groaned, and the game began. To everyone's surprise, Frodo held out for much longer than anyone expected, but by midnight he was dozing on Kíli's shoulder.
"He's dribbling!" Kíli giggled in delight, his own head lolling a little more freely on his shoulders than usual. "Just like when he was, was a baby."
"You still," Fíli hiccupped, "don't know how to hold your liquor, Kee."
Kíli ignored his brother and sighed happily, peering out at the party. Most were not yet quite as inebriated as those who had played the drinking game – in fact Soren and Bragi were up dancing again – and he had no desire to leave so soon. He felt delightfully happy, and his joy was increased by the knowledge that Frodo had not passed out. He had merely fallen asleep.
Already, Kíli's feet had begun to twitch to the beat of the music – he wanted to dance again, and in a few minutes he was sure he would be able to. He gazed up to look at the stars, and frowned.
He could see none. Not one star.
A drop landed on his face. Then another. And another
With a mighty clap of thunder, rain began to pour down upon the party, and shrieks rose up among the guests. The noise was phenomenal, between the rain bashing onto the ground and the chink of it hitting tankards.
Frodo jolted awake with a cry of dismay and Fíli tried to shield his tankard, but Kíli laughed wildly. He tipped back his face further and let the rain wash over him for a moment. Then, he sprang to his feet and grabbed Frodo, pulling him up too.
"Come on, Fee!" he cried, gesturing to his brother as he dragged Frodo towards the emptying dancefloor.
"Come where?" Fíli called back, his arm over his head.
"Wha's goin' on?" cried Frodo, looking almost alarmed. "Kíli?"
"It's raining!" Kíli sang, pulling Frodo into a spin. The young hobbit yelped and stumbled, grasping Kíli's arm firmly, and Kíli paused. "You alright? Are you going to be sick?"
Frodo shook his head with wide eyes, and Kíli laughed again.
"Great!"
Then, he took as deep a breath as he could, and launched into a song he was sure the entire crowd would know – an old, silly nursery song whose popularity had spread even to Erebor.
"It pours from the skies and crashes on the ground,
It wakens the world with almighty sound,
It bursts all the river banks and floods the lane,
For even wizards cannot tame the rain!"
A loud whoop came from Nori, who charged onto the dancefloor with Nelly on his heels. Together, they joined Kíli's chorus.
"Dance, then, whenever storms may be!
Even when they turn our fields to seas,
For the rain brings life, to hobbits and to trees
And the dance of storms is always sure to please!"
His hair plastered over his eyes, Bilbo skipped towards them in the dance's familiar steps. For all the claimed the song was a load of nonsense, his smile was wide as he sang.
"The roll of thunder is our mighty drum,
And no flute is sweeter than the rain's deep thrum,
And the crack of lightning and the river's hum
Make music greater than the silent sun."
Pearl, Vinca and Bombur's twins spun in a circle, hand in hand, their feet hitting each other's as the chorus hit its swing again.
"Dance then, whenever storms may be!
Even when they turn our fields to seas,
For the rain brings life, to hobbits and to trees
And the dance of storms is always sure to please!"
No one remained behind, sheltering in the tents. One by two by three by twelve, they dove into the dance, spilling out from the designated floor and onto the tables and stage and field.
"No light is brighter than the lightning's strike,
It sears the sky like a bird in flight
And its beauty vast can brighten up the night
As the storm plays on and brings us life."
Every waking dwarf and hobbit knew the words was singing them as loud as they could. Even the rain could not deafen them, and the sounds of their claps and stomping feet rose stronger than ever they had before.
"Dance then, whenever storms may be!
Even when they turn our fields to seas,
For the rain brings life, to hobbits and to trees
And the dance of storms is always sure to please!"
Never having believed it more in his life, Kíli launched into the final verse.
"To dance in the rain is to dance with life,
Be struck and soaked, forget your strife
Call your neighbours out, your children and your wife,
Come and dance together 'neath the stormy skies."
Mud was quickly being churned beneath their feet, and splashing up their ankles. Shirts were so drenched they clung to skin, all dwarves save Ehren lost their curls to the rain, and ladie's skirts were filthier than they ever had been, but even Lobelia Sackville-Baggins could not bring herself to mind. As her feet clapped and her heart sang, she had to admit, the Bagginses knew how to throw a party.
"Dance then, whenever storms may be!
Even when they turn our fields to seas,
For the rain brings life, to hobbits and to trees
And the dance of storms is always sure to please!"
With a great cheer the song ended, but many continued to dance and sing. The Howling Hornblowers ducked beneath a nearby tent, only to allow themselves to better play their instruments.
Kíli did not know how much time had passed when Frodo slipped straight into his arms. Kíli smiled down at him.
"You alright, Frodo?"
Frodo grunted wordlessly, and Kíli chuckled. He lifted him into his arms as if Frodo was only a baby, but the hobbit did not complain. He just sighed, and let his head fall against Kíli's chest.
Bilbo was there in a heartbeat. "Is everything alright?"
Kíli nodded, resting his forehead against Bilbo's for a moment. "He's just sleepy. I'm going to take him home."
"Alright," Bilbo said, wiping Kíli's drenched hair from his face with a proud smile. "I love you both."
Kíli beamed, and winked. "Love you too."
Bilbo Baggins shook his head slowly as he watched Kíli stumble up towards Bag End. His son was less sober than he seemed to believe, but Fíli and Bragi followed him like magnets, and Bilbo was not worried. He was soaked to the bone, and starting to shiver, and his feet ached and his eyes stung, but Bilbo was happy.
So totally, wonderfully happy. He should have known that his little Kíli would turn a storm into a dance. Kíli had always loved storms. It was why Bilbo loved them now, too. Why the pouring rain just added to the buzz of alcohol and exhilaration still coursing through his veins. There had never been a party quite like this, he was sure. That was what he had wanted, all he wanted, for Frodo.
Everything felt perfect.
Or at least, it would have felt perfect, were not for the ring that grew so heavy in his pocket, and the nagging absence of an old friend in an old, grey hat.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please, please, leave a review if you can, I would really appreciate knowing how you feel this re-write is going so far. I'll hopefully see you tomorrow!