A/N:
A friendly warning - this story is obviously written from Bilbo's POV but to the extent that there are bits of Bilbo's narrative that are rather crucial to The Hobbit but irrelevant to this story, I am freely making use of massive handwaving and glossing over.
:: cough ::
Gollum
:: cough ::
Just so you are not surprised at how mightily certain things are condensed. :)
P.S. This chapter has one of my favorite parts in it. See if you can figure out which one. I also stole at least a couple of sentences straight from Tolkien.
The sun was indeed kind enough to dry the muddy trail and make it passable, and the next morning was spent in cheery conversation as they climbed, the previous day's rest renewing their spirits and energy. But by the afternoon of that same day, the clouds had rolled in again and soon enough a fierce storm broke out, full of monstrous bolts of lightning and the fierce, never-ending roar of thunder. The rain lashed at them so ferociously they were forced to take shelter under an overhanging rock where they huddled, miserable and cold and frightened. Well, at least Bilbo was frightened, and he suspected at least some of the dwarves were as well, though of course they would not admit it.
"This is no ordinary storm," Gandalf shouted, voice raised above the howl of the wind. "It is a battle of the thunder giants!"
And indeed it was, for now that Bilbo knew to look, he could see the great creatures across the valley, giants made of stone, and they were hurling rocks at one another for a game, and catching them, and tossing them down into the darkness where they smashed among the trees far below, or splintered into little bits with a bang.
"We cannot stay here!" Thorin shouted. "If we don't get blown off, or drowned, or struck by lightning, we shall get picked up by some giant and kicked sky-high for a football."
Bilbo found this grim assessment very alarming, and his mood was not in the least bit improved by Gandalf's grumpy reply, "Well, if you know of anywhere better, take us there!" It seemed to Bilbo then that perhaps being a wizard did not gift one with very many extraordinary skills beyond the creation of wondrous fireworks and smoke rings, if Gandalf could not even manage to keep the rain out of his own face or find them someplace dry to take shelter. Then, while Bilbo was scolding himself for that ungenerous thought, Thorin and the other dwarves fell to arguing about the best course of action, and eventually decided to send Fili and Kili off to scout for a suitable cave. Not all agreed; even as the lads crept along the path buffeted by the wind and rain, the other dwarves were arguing still whether Kili should make matters worse by staying or going. Bilbo was gratified that at the very least they waited until Kili was out of earshot before expressing their reservations, especially since he felt that things as they were could not get very much worse at all.
It was not a very long time before Fili and Kili came back — so short a time, in fact, that the dwarves were still arguing over whether Kili should have gone by the time he and Fili returned. "We have found a dry cave," Fili said, and it was right around the next corner, and large enough for the whole Company, even the ponies. And though Gandalf was suspicious — rightfully so, as was soon proved — the dwarves were eager enough to get in from the storm that they overlooked Fili's obvious lie that they had thoroughly explored the cave, and Kili's guilty expression.
At first the cave was everything they had hoped, warm and dry and entirely sheltered from the wind and rain and even the roar of the stone giants at play. And it also seemed safe enough, for they explored it by the light of Gandalf's wand and nothing seemed too obviously amiss, and so they settled down for as pleasant an evening as they could manage, which was certainly bound to be more pleasant than if they had stayed outside.
Gandalf would not permit them to light a fire, but they made the best dinner they could out of cold meats, and they sat around afterwards and talked and smoked. Kili of course tended to the ponies, who were more than happy for the attention, and stood placidly chewing from their feedbags. Then Bilbo caught a glimpse of Kili digging in his pack, and it seemed he was fingering again the dwarvish bow the elves had gifted to him, but then Thorin called him over for some trivial chore, and Kili jumped to his feet and shoved the bow in some pocket in his overcoat so it would not be seen. When Bilbo caught his attention a little later and stared pointedly at the small bulge in his coat, Kili looked away and would not meet his eyes. Bilbo thought that this bow would most certainly be the cause of trouble later, especially if Kili could not help but look so guilty about it, but then Bilbo also thought that Kili had probably never kept a secret in his whole life, and perhaps it was a healthy thing that he should do so now, for surely no one can go through life without keeping a single secret at all, not even little hobbits safe in the Shire, whether they be firework secrets or not.
The wind and rain continued late into the night; Bilbo's sleep was poor because of it, restless and filled with disturbing dreams. And then his bad dreams came to life, for in the middle of the night they were attacked by goblins! The creatures swarmed from a hidden door, and the dwarves were very quickly overcome, Dwalin standing watch uselessly at the front of the cave while the goblins attacked from the back. The goblins pushed and bullied them out of the cave and down into a dark, foreboding tunnel, chortling with glee over the fresh ponies and all the wonderful supplies the dwarves had been carrying in their packs.
In a trice they were all disarmed and bound at the wrist in chains, lined up in a very sorry row of 13 dwarves and one hobbit, but no wizard. Where Gandalf was no one knew, but fortunately they kept their wits about them enough not to wonder out loud where their wizard had gone, so that the goblins did not know he had escaped, and that was the only bright thought at this very gloomy moment. The goblins pushed them in a very rough manner down the dark and meandering halls, and Bilbo thought that there were so many twists and turns, he would never have found his way out again, even if there had been light enough for seeing.
Bilbo had been shackled at the very end of the line, for the goblins did not know what to make of him, having never seen a hobbit before, but though they poked and prodded at him a little longer than at the dwarves, they were eager to return to the depths of Goblin Town, where, they said, "The Goblin King shall figure out what to do with them all, even the strange little one." They walked and walked, deeper and deeper under the mountain, and after a while the goblins began to sing. This should not have been so surprising as it was, for everyone knows that goblins are descended from elves, but Bilbo was not expecting creatures so foul as these to make any sort of music. But it was quite horrible music indeed, perfectly suited to the horrible goblins, and Bilbo wished his hands were free so that he could cover his ears and not have to listen to even a single note of that foul song.
As they walked ever deeper underground, Bilbo found he was shaking quite ferociously, so that the chains that bound him were rattling, and Dori in front of him kept whispering at him to hush, for he would only make matters worse for himself if the goblins knew quite how afraid he was. Goblins, you see, are just the sort of evil creatures to take delight in others' fear and misery. In fact, there is very little good that can be said of goblins at all, and the world would be far better off without their sort. Even years later, Bilbo could not think of a single kind word for them in his memoirs, but described them as quite ill-tempered, which was the worst insult he could bear to put down in ink.
After a very long walk they reached Goblin Town, and a more frightful place Bilbo could not have imagined, full as it was of goblins of every shape and size, and jeering at them viciously. And in the center of the town there was a grand square, and in that square they were brought in front of the Goblin King himself, the most grotesque creature any of them had ever seen.
Thorin kept his wits about him, and tried to pretend they were but a traveling company, of no purpose other than to visit relatives across the mountain, and though they tried to pretend they were simply a traveling company, the King recognized Thorin Oakenshield immediately and was very pleased to have him in his clutches.
It might have worked too, but by the light of the many torches that lit the square, the goblins had been rummaging through all they had stolen from the dwarves, and it did not take them very long to discover the goblin-cleaver Orcrist among the dwarves' weapons. At that the goblins let out an angry cry, and started yelling and rushing around in a wild panic, for though they outnumbered the dwarves by many thousands, they were still superstitiously afraid of that dreaded blade. Even the Goblin King himself was afraid of that sword, though of course he was the king and would not show it in front of his subjects. Instead he masked his fear with a most terrible display of rage, and called the dwarves liars and murderers, and ordered them taken away and down to the dungeons where a most horrible fate certainly awaited them.
Thank goodness Gandalf showed up again just at that moment with his own blade Glamdring, which was just as feared as Orcrist — even more feared, if that were possible — and slayed the Goblin King in a flash and bid the dwarves to run for their lives. Run they did, as quickly as they could, though it was hard, chained in a line as they were, but terror is a great motivator and the pounding feet of the goblin hordes behind them set them scurrying as fast as they were able.
When they were all quite out of breath, Gandalf let them rest for just a moment while he freed them from their chains with his wand. Bilbo regretted then his earlier very ungenerous thoughts towards Gandalf, for right now it seemed that wizards were capable of truly wondrous and useful magic indeed! But no sooner was the company loose than Gandalf bade them run again, and quickly, for the goblins were right on their heels, and gaining rapidly. All the swords they had among them were two, Orcrist and Glamdring, though Fili had managed to keep hold of a small dagger and knife, tucked neatly away in some hidden sheaths under his coat, and Dwalin likewise had a knife in his boot, and even Bilbo had his little dagger tucked safely away in his breeches, but little good two swords, two knives and two daggers would be against many hundreds of angry goblins!
They ran as fast as they could, but were unpleasantly surprised when the goblins came at their front from around the corner, and there was nothing for it but to fight. Thorin and Gandalf drew their mighty swords and slew as many goblins as they could; just the sight of Orcrist and Glamdring was enough to set many of the goblins scurrying away in fear, and Fili and Dwalin with their smaller blades helped beat the others back as best they could. But the goblins were sneaky and not so stupid as might be supposed, and though they were horrible to look at and loathsome of manner, they were very smart at devising all manner of evil.
And so the goblins set to with the few archers among the hordes — goblins, as noted, being bred from elves, and so quite comfortable with bow and arrow — and though the dark hallways of the mountain were not an ideal place for such a weapon, the goblins themselves cared little for the lives of their brethren at the front of the pack, and so the archers sent arrows flying towards the dwarves, heedless of whether they happened to hit a few goblins by accident. This was a calamity indeed, for the only light there was shone from the elvish blades and Gandalf's wand, and it was nearly impossible to see the goblins' arrows as they flew through the air.
The dwarves hollered and threw themselves to the ground, and it was quite a miracle that none of them were seriously wounded by those arrows, though several suffered minor scrapes and torn coats and poor Dori had one of his braids sliced right off. Then Gandalf muttered something under his breath and his wand and Glamdring and Orcrist began to shine with such a fierce light that the goblins screeched and ran away to the safety of their foul dark tunnels, and the dwarves took the opportunity to run as fast as they could in the opposite direction.
They ran and they ran, for so long that Bilbo was utterly exhausted and did not think he could carry on for one more step; even the dwarves were starting to lag, when suddenly more goblins snuck up from behind, for they had many secret paths in the mountain and could be as quiet as elves when they wanted. One of the goblins grabbed Ori, who let out a shriek of terror, but before he was carried away to his doom a black arrow came flying swiftly through the air and struck the goblin neatly in the eye. He dropped to the floor, dead as can be, and this unexpected attack caused quite a commotion among the dwarves and goblins both, and for a few minutes everything was very confused, with a lot of shouting and running around in circles.
Sometime during all of this, someone — perhaps Dori, perhaps Gloín — stumbled hard into Bilbo, and he quite lost his balance and fell into the wall, where he hit his head so hard on a stone that he blacked out, and knew nothing more for a long while.
When he came to, everyone was gone, all the goblins and all the dwarves, and so Bilbo crept around in the dark for a while and had a mighty adventure all on his own, wherein he found a golden ring and met a very nasty creature named Gollum and won a riddle contest and escaped with his life and the ring both. And through all of this he could not help but worry about the dwarves, for he had no way of knowing if they had escaped the goblins or not, and if not, how he could save them, and if so, how he would ever find them again!
But then Gollum himself led him to the door out of the mountain — though of course, Gollum did not know it and certainly would not have led him there on purpose — and Bilbo slipped on his magic ring — for such it was — and, invisible, slipped out of the door right under the noses of the three very ugly goblins guarding it.
Luck was with him then, for very soon thereafter he found the dwarves, who were in quite a state and were being yelled at most severely by Gandalf for having lost their burglar. So everyone was quite pleased when Bilbo appeared, and they listened with amazement to his tale of how he had escaped, though he left out the part about the magic ring — though why he did so, he couldn't say, and if he had thought about it he might have worried why he omitted such an important detail.
But now they were in a fine mess, for they had no food nor supplies nor ponies, and several of them were bruised and scraped and needed tending, and they were still far too close to the goblins for comfort. So they began walking, though they were all hungry and irritable, and Thorin seemed to be in a fouler mood than usual. It did not take long for Bilbo to realize something was very wrong, for all the dwarves seemed anxious and kept casting sneaky glances at Thorin and then at Kili, who himself looked the most anxious of all, and walked with his shoulders hunched as if he was expecting a blow.
And perhaps he was, Bilbo thought gloomily, for certainly they had had the worst spot of bad luck by taking shelter in a goblin cave, and even a clear-thinking hobbit could see how the blame for that could be laid at Kili's feet, for it had been he who had found the cave in the first place. And Fili too, of course, but Bilbo knew enough of the dwarves to know that it would be poor Kili who would bear the brunt of it, and this made him terribly sad, and fearful too, for with each step he was certain they were growing closer to some terrible punishment for Kili.
But Thorin, it seemed, was more concerned with escaping the goblins than punishing Kili, for he kept them walking at the very fastest pace they could manage, and would not even let them stop for a few moments to catch their breath. They finally stopped for the night near a stream, and each ate a few berries for dinner, which was hardly anything at all but the best they could do. Thorin forbade them from lighting a fire in case the goblins were still looking for them, so all in all it was a cold and miserable evening indeed, and all the dwarves were very hungry and cross and no one slept well at all.
They rose at first light, and there was much grumbling and groaning as their aches and pains and bumps and bruises made themselves known, and of course they were all very hungry, for they had lost several days under the mountains and they had not really eaten since their dinner in the cursed cave. Oín would not let them leave until he had examined all their cuts and scrapes and cleaned them as well as could be, for without his bag he had no way to treat infection, should it arise.
Then Thorin said, "Kili," and all the other dwarves got very quiet. Moving slowly, Kili knelt before his shemor, and there was real fear on his face, which made Bilbo very anxious and scared himself. For he remembered how Thorin had punished Kili after the pony ran into the river, and how Kili had offered himself up to be punished just a few days later, and neither of those times was Kili scared in the slightest. Bilbo felt himself go tense as if preparing for a fight, and for one delirious moment he imagined himself pulling out his dagger and jumping between the two dwarves, as if that would accomplish anything except making Thorin even angrier. Gandalf had also gone very stiff and still, and though his expression was inscrutable under his great big hat, he stared at Thorin very intently and Bilbo fancied the wizard's thoughts were not so far removed from his own.
But "Show me," was all Thorin said. Kili breathed in very deeply, shaking, and then he reached into his coat and pulled out the bow the elves had given him — the bow, Bilbo realized, that he had used to shoot the goblin who had attacked Ori, firing an arrow he must have picked up from the ground. And it seemed to Bilbo that it should have been a good thing that Kili had the bow on hand to save Ori's life, but the grim set to Thorin's mouth and the fear in Kili's eyes made it clear that it was not.
Thorin took the bow without comment and stared at it silently, turning it over and over in his hands. Then, with clever, nimble fingers, he began to unfold it, and in seconds he held a full-sized bow in his hands, silver hardware gleaming in the early morning light, the carved wood burnished and shining. His fingers traced the etching in the silver and he held it to the light, peering closely at something Bilbo couldn't see, and he murmured, "Regrin. Nashak Durin." The other dwarves all muttered to each other, and Bilbo fancied he was not imagining it that the temperature dropped by several degrees. Even Gandalf looked taken aback and uneasy, though he said nothing, but sat chewing quietly on his unlit pipe.
"How came you by this?" Thorin asked. His voice was very, very calm.
Kili swallowed and curled his hands into fists, resting them on his thighs. "The elves," he said quietly, then cleared his throat and spoke up more loudly. "The elves in Rivendell gifted it to me."
Thorin scowled and spat something in the dwarf tongue, no doubt very foul. "It has been in your possession for weeks, then."
Kili breaths were soft and rapid, and it seemed to take a long time for him to answer. "Yes."
Thorin's frown was terrible, though Bilbo was not certain whether his displeasure was greater at the elves for giving Kili the bow, or at Kili for accepting it and keeping it secret. When he finally spoke, his voice was frigid. "The elves I can understand," he said. "They made no secret of their distaste for our ways. But from you I have would have expected better. You know our laws–"
"I know our laws," Kili agreed bitterly. "I live them."
"This bow," Thorin said, slowly and through clenched teeth, "is meant for those of the Durin's blood."
"As I am," Kili said, something dark and dangerous flashing in his eyes. "She was, so I am. And it has never been aught but a curse."
Thorin lashed out with his fist, striking hard, and Kili flew backward, blood streaming from a cut on his cheek. "Mind your tongue, nidoy," Thorin grated. Blood stained his knuckles and his face was very grim. He took a few breaths, staring down at Kili, who stared silently back, all defiance gone. He looked limp and shattered, as if his very life were draining with the blood that was pooling slowly under his cheek. "If you wanted to keep it," Thorin said finally, "you should have asked."
"You would have said no. You know the law as well as I do, shemor."
"You should have asked," Thorin repeated stonily, and the two dwarves stared at each other in troubled silence. The rest of the company was silent and immobile, as if no one dared to breathe. Bilbo felt for these few moments that the only creatures alive in the world were Thorin and Kili, shemor and khufud, and everyone else had simply ceased to exist.
After a very long, uncomfortable period which seemed to Bilbo to extend several hours but was probably only a few minutes, Thorin flexed his knuckles, the blood on them gleaming dully in the weak sunlight. "The law says you are to be punished for our recent misfortune and as well for taking a weapon which I had not granted to you, and so you have been." Then he raised his head and cleared his expression, wiping it of anger as if it had never been there in the first place. "The morning grows late. We must move on, if we are to find food and avoid the goblins."
The dwarves shuffled about, muttering very quietly to themselves and circling neatly around Kili, who had pulled himself up to a sitting position and touched his fingers gingerly to the cut on his cheek. The blood was already clotting, and in truth Kili did not look so much the worse for wear than the other dwarves with their own cuts and scrapes. Bilbo knelt down by Kili's side, forcing a half-hearted smile on his face, though he felt very little like smiling. "I do not think it will scar," he said. "It is long, but shallow."
Kili nodded and drew in a few shuddering breaths. "Then I suppose there is some mercy in this world after all, Mr. Baggins." But he looked tired and sad, and kept glancing unhappily at Thorin's back. Bilbo felt largely relieved that the punishment had been but a single blow, for his imaginings had been much worse, but at the same time, he imagined that Kili would have suffered a harsher beating far easier than what had actually transpired. Firework secrets, Bilbo thought sadly, and heaved a deep and heavy sigh.
They fell to the back of the line of the slowly moving dwarves, Bilbo being in no mood to share stories with anyone, and, in fact, rather wishing he had never come along on the quest in the first place, though of course if Bilbo had stayed home poor Kili would be no better off; it was just Bilbo who would have felt better for never having known such customs as khazd khuv existed in the world. Gandalf came to them and examined Kili's cheek with a grave expression, then whispered a few words, after which it seemed to Bilbo that right away the cut began to look better, as if it was already beginning to heal, and all the blood that was on Kili's cheek vanished. And even after that Gandalf stayed by their sides, and though he said not a word as they walked, he took to patting Kili on the shoulder every once in a while, and Bilbo thought he looked very sorrowful.
All in all it was a very sour morning for the entire company, and they never did become any more cheerful than when they woke. But at one point, when they stopped by a stream to wash off some grime and take a drink, Ori came over and stood close by Kili, and he looked very upset indeed, twisting a grubby handkerchief around and between his fingers. Kili looked at him a little apprehensively, for it was rare indeed that any of the dwarves would speak to him — in fact, Bilbo could only remember Thorin and Fili ever addressing him directly, except when he had been ill and then Oín had shouted at him rather a lot to drink his tea — but Ori stood there full of determination, though it seemed to take some effort before he could work up the nerve to speak.
"I'm very grateful," Ori finally said, after shooting a nervous glance at the other dwarves, though only his own brothers seemed to be watching. "I'm sorry I never said. But you saved my life, and I'm sorry you got punished for it."
Kili frowned a little bit and glanced for some reason at Bilbo and Gandalf, who did nothing but smile encouragingly — at least, Bilbo hoped he did, and Gandalf's expression was inscrutable, though not unpleasant. "I didn't get punished for saving you," Kili said finally. He would not meet Ori's eyes, but Bilbo still felt it was a victory that Kili was speaking to him at all. "I got punished for having kept the bow." And for all the other trouble with the goblins, Bilbo thought, though of course he did not say it, for that was understood by all of them.
"Well," Ori said, and his voice grew suddenly firm, as if he had overcome whatever hesitation he had been feeling. "That's as may be, but the fact remains that if you hadn't had the bow, I should certainly have ended up a snack for the goblins. So I say again that I am grateful to you, Master Kili, and I hope that someday in the future I can repay you this great debt."
Kili nodded dumbly, seemingly too astonished to speak, and Ori bowed politely and took his leave. Gandalf turned to Kili with a great big smile then, beaming as if he himself were the sun. "And thus the weather of the world begins to change," he said, quite cheerfully. "You see, Mr. Baggins! One never knows what wonders each day will bring." And he clapped them both on their shoulders and would not stop smiling the whole morning long.
A/N:
I hope you all feel a glimmer of hope breaking through ...
Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to leave a comment. Very often they make me think and edit and revise, and they always make me happy. :)
