Chapter 2 - Bombur
Chapter summary: Thorin's company was a tightly knit group of friends and various relatives and there was little room left in it for a complete outsider.
Bombur was a simple creature of simple tastes. He liked his comforts (mainly good food, and lot of it) and had always found the quiet, ordinary type of life to be more satisfying than any amount of glory that bloody battles could bring him. He was happiest in his kitchen, puttering with his assortment of pots and pans and had always preferred a spoon to a sword. He was willing to fight when necessary and had taken the mandatory fighting lessons with everyone else, but he found no pleasure in violence and tended to avoid it whenever he could.
Going on the quest hadn't been his idea and he had joined the Company only grudgingly.
When he had first heard Thorin's announcement, he hadn't paid it much attention, because things like that simply weren't for him. It was only after Bofur had come into his kitchen and spent the next two hours bouncing around in his ridiculous hat that he first started even contemplating the idea. He had tried telling himself that he wouldn't let Bofur talk him into it, but deep down he knew that he would end up on the road with the rest of them, if only to avoid being left behind while the others went off to pursue gold and glory.
Bofur had gradually worn him down with his enthusiasm, always finding an argument against Bombur's numerous objections and as the weeks passed, Bombur could feel his defences slowly crumbling. Bofur's excitement had been almost contagious and Bombur had never been able to tell his brother no when he got like this.
Even Bifur, who was normally quite low-key and preferred to keep to himself, had looked excited about the adventure and more than once had joined them in the evening for a quiet discussion, making plans and going over maps and lists with Bofur while Bombur sat quietly by the fire, listening to their banter and munching on pretzels. In the end he had given in, just like he'd always suspected that he would, though he still wasn't very happy with the idea.
As days on the road turned to weeks, more than once Bombur found himself regretting his decision to come on Thorin's quest. Travelling all day in a saddle was uncomfortable, the nights in early May were still cold and he didn't get to eat nowhere near as much as he would have liked.
To his relief, he soon discovered that he wasn't suffering alone, because there was at least one other member of the company who shared his misery - Mr Baggins didn't look much happier about their travelling conditions than he did. Despite anything the hobbit may have said about the journeys of his youth, it was clear that he had grown accustomed to comfort over the last few years and the sudden switch to a Spartan lifestyle wasn't doing him much good.
For the first few days, the hobbit had often complained about various things – his forgotten handkerchiefs, the absence of a second breakfast, rain, Glóin's snores – but after Dwalin had threatened to tie him up and leave him in a ditch if he didn't keep quiet, he started keeping his objections to himself. Riding beside him at the back of the company, Bombur could still hear the hobbit occasionally grumbling when he thought no one could hear him. Bombur knew better than to openly complain where Thorin could hear him, but he often found himself privately agreeing with the halfling's mutterings.
They had been travelling for two weeks, the rolling countryside around Bree giving way to the forests of the western wilderness. One evening, as Bombur was skinning a deer for dinner, the halfling wandered over and sat down on the log next to him.
"Do you need any help with the dinner, Master Bombur?" He looked a little lost, like a child left behind at the country market by its mother.
Bombur looked down at the half-skinned deer on the ground then at the group of dwarves, who were at various stages of preparing the camp for the night. Nobody was paying any attention to them, so Bombur concluded that nobody would mind if he took a short break. Laying down his knife, he stood up and gave the hobbit a small smile.
"I'll be happy to get some assistance with this. You see, I was planning to make some roasted venison tonight, but I don't have the herbs I need." He scratched the back of his neck in a self-conscious gesture. "I'm afraid that I've never been very good at telling one plant apart from the other."
Bilbo's face lit up.
"Oh, I can certainly help you with that. I have a nice herb garden at home, so I should be able to help you find what you need."
Bombur returned the smile.
"That would be really nice of you. You hobbits are very fond of flowers and herbs, are you not?"
He led the way into the forest, listening to the hobbit chatter about his herb garden. As he watched Bilbo's animated face while the hobbit explained to him the difference between rosemary and marjoram, Bombur was suddenly glad that he hadn't turned down Bilbo's tentative offer of friendship. It was clear that the halfling was glad for his company.
From what Bombur had seen, Bilbo didn't seem to get along much with the other dwarves except for Balin, and even though Gandalf occasionally spared him a moment to chat, it wasn't enough interaction for a creature used to being constantly surrounded by various neighbours and relatives.
Bilbo Baggins was lonely and Bombur could sympathise, because apart from his brother Bofur nobody spoke much with him, either.
People at home often came to Bombur to ask him for favours, but few of them ever showed any interest in him personally. He had long grown used to it, but it still stung a little every time it happened. The companions had been treating him decently enough so far, but he was well aware that some of them didn't have a very high opinion of him.
However, unlike Bilbo, Bombur was still a dwarf and a full member of the company and was treated as such – they included him in their conversations and jokes and even though some of them laughed as often at him as with him, they never ignored him. Bilbo, on the other hand, was at best tolerated, at worst considered an additional piece of luggage they had to carry with them. Bombur didn't envy him his position in the slightest.
Thorin's company was a tightly knit group of friends and various relatives and there was little room left in it for a complete outsider. Bilbo seemed to realise that and most of the time he kept to himself, staring off into space or scribbling in the little notebook he had brought with him.
Since Bombur found that he enjoyed Bilbo's company, the two of them started going for evening walks together, gathering herbs and vegetables for dinner while the other dwarves bustled around the camp, tying up ponies and preparing the fire. Nobody ever asked Bilbo to do anything, so the hobbit fell into the habit of following Bombur around and helping him prepare dinner. Bombur didn't mind. Bilbo was a very good cook and a great lover of food and they spent a lot of time exchanging recipes and chatting about various dishes they liked to prepare.
Bilbo was usually very chatty, keeping up a steady stream of words as they prepared food, but one night he fell silent, chopping vegetables with enough force to make them fly off the chopping block, making it look like he had a personal grievance against them. Bombur watched Bilbo for a little while, noting that the hobbit held the knife in a furious, white-knuckled grip.
Not wanting to have his best kitchen knife broken, Bombur touched Bilbo's shoulder, drawing the hobbit's attention.
"We should get some mushrooms for the stew before it gets too dark," he said, gently taking the knife out of the hobbit's hand.
Bilbo's face brightened a bit at the mention of mushrooms, but quickly fell back into a scowl when they passed Thorin on their way into the woods. Bombur let Bilbo walk first, keeping a more sedate pace behind him to allow the hobbit to burn some of his anger. Finally they came upon a nice cluster of mushrooms, but Bilbo paid them no mind. Instead he stared into the distance, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Bombur bent down to start picking the mushrooms, pointedly not looking at Bilbo.
"What's the matter?"
Bilbo whirled toward him.
"I feel useless sometimes, do you know?" he burst. It was obvious this had been just a rhetorical question, so Bombur stayed silent and waited for him to continue.
"There are so many times when I look around and think 'What have you gotten yourself into, Bilbo Baggins? You are not a warrior, or a thief, or an adventurer. You don't belong here. What were you thinking, running off on a foolhardy quest with a bunch of dwarves you just met?'" He shook his head a bit. "I don't have a place here. You all belong together, in one way or another. I am just a tag-along. Some days, I have no idea what I am doing here."
Standing below the towering pines, he looked small and deeply unhappy.
Bombur sighed and laid down the bag of mushrooms. Food could wait, he decided. Friend came first.
Walking over to the hobbit, Bombur gestured for him to sit down on a log and settled on a wide tree stump next to him.
"What makes you think that?"
For a moment, it looked like Bilbo would try to avoid the question, or come up with some excuse, but in the end he just lowered his eyes to the ground.
"I had an argument with Thorin this morning. You probably didn't see it, because you all went ahead of me." He gave Bombur a questioning look. Bombur shook his head.
"No, I didn't hear anything. What happened?"
"When we all went to bathe in the small river near Weathertop, I slipped on some stones and fell under water. Before I could straighten up, Thorin pulled me out and then started yelling at me about danger and my stupidity. I told him that I would have been able to get out of the water on my own, since it wasn't very deep, which prompted a lengthy lecture about my recklessness, in which he managed to insult me several times. I told him off." Bilbo grimaced. "It didn't go well and now I feel a bit ridiculous. After all, he did help me."
Bombur hummed in understanding, weighing his words.
"You're quite brave, standing up to Thorin like that. Most dwarves I know wouldn't dare raise their voices against him. I know I wouldn't dare. He had no right to insult you like that." He gave the hobbit a stern look. "And you shouldn't have yelled at him."
"I know." Bilbo played with a loose thread on his knee. "I am afraid our personalities don't mesh very well. I am normally much more restrained in my anger, but Thorin just rubs me the wrong way. I think it will be better if I keep my distance from him, to prevent causing any more scenes."
With a small sigh Bilbo slid down from the log and picked up the sack of mushrooms.
"Come, Bombur, we should get the rest of the mushroom and go back before they send a search party after us. If I have learned anything about you dwarves, it's that you are a grumpy lot when you're hungry."
They harvested the rest of the mushrooms in companionable silence. On the way back, it occurred to Bombur that there was something he wanted to know.
"Why did you come with us, Bilbo?"
The hobbit huffed a laugh.
"To be honest, I have absolutely no idea. It was an impulse, a spur-of-a-moment decision. I just woke up in the morning and realized that I wanted to go with you. It makes no sense – I have a life in the Shire, my comfortable home, all my books and plenty of friends. Why would I exchange that for months of sleeping on the ground and trudging through mud in some godforsaken land, the name of which I cannot even pronounce, all for the promise of some elusive piece of dragon treasure that I won't be able to take home anyway? But for some reason, going away on a quest with you lot just felt right, so I went."
Bombur nodded in understanding.
"You know, I didn't want to go on Thorin's quest at all. Bofur pulled me along." He smiled at Bilbo's surprised expression. "Not all dwarves are warriors and adventurers, like Dwalin or Nori. Some of us prefer the comforts of home over the glory of a battle."
He patted Bilbo on the shoulder and went back to the camp to prepare dinner, leaving the hobbit to ponder his words.
°O°O°O°
"What have you been up to, dear brother?" Bofur plopped down on the log next to him a few days later, peering curiously into the pot. "I couldn't help but notice that you have lately become friends with our resident hobbit."
Bombur made a non-committal shrug, unwilling to satisfy his brother's curiosity. It was one of their endless games – Bofur would try to wheedle information out of him and Bombur would pretend to play ignorant, just to enjoy his brother's growing frustration.
"Oh, come on, Bombur, don't leave me in the dark. Everyone is dying of curiosity about him."
Bombur continued stirring.
"Are they? Why don't you talk to him yourself, if you're so curious?"
Bofur made a face.
"I would, but I'm afraid that he still hasn't forgiven me for making him faint."
"That was two weeks ago," Bombur pointed out. "Mister Baggins doesn't strike me as someone who would hold grudges like that."
"Still, a little more observation won't hurt before I try to strike up a conversation with him."
Bombur snorted.
"You act as if he was some dangerous wild beast you are hunting."
Bofur grinned.
"He's a funny little creature, that's for sure. I have never dealt with Halflings before, so I don't know what to expect."
"He's not that different from us, you know," Bombur said, his eyes following the hobbit, who was preparing his bedroll on the other side of the camp. "He may be softer and a bit timid and have some strange mannerisms, but he seems to like most of the same things that we do. A good meal, a pint of ale, an interesting story and the pleasant company of friends. The last seems to be woefully lacking around here," he couldn't help but remark.
They both paused to watch as the hobbit bent over his bedroll and picked up something, cradling it in his hands carefully. He shot a dirty look at Fíli and Kíli before he disappeared behind a tall rock to walk down to a nearby river. Bombur just shook his head and returned to his stirring. Not five minutes later Bilbo walked back, a long suffering expression on his face. He made a beeline for Bombur but hesitated a bit when he saw that the portly dwarf wasn't alone.
"Good evening, Bofur," he greeted cautiously, his eyes flitting between the two brothers.
"Good evening to you as well, Mister Baggins," Bofur gave him his customary grin, which made Bilbo relax a bit and he sat down on a nearby log, glaring at Kíli's back. It didn't take long for him to share the source of his vexation with them.
"There was a frog in my bedroll. Again."
Bombur gave him a sympathetic look.
"What was this? The third time?"
"Fourth," Bilbo said. He gave them a bemused look. "Why are they doing this? Are they trying to bully me?"
"I think it's their own strange way of showing affection," Bombur told him. "They have always been like that, playing pranks on everyone. Before you joined the party, they played this prank on Ori. He almost cried when he found a snake sitting on his pillow."
"Poor Ori," Bilbo said, looking at the young dwarf, who was knitting happily by the fire. "If nothing else, it's not very original. We used to play this prank when we were children. I thought they were old enough to know better."
"They were hoping that you would scream like Ori did," Bofur told him with a grin. "I think you must have greatly disappointed them."
"I'm not afraid of frogs," Bilbo said. "Or snakes, for that matter. Besides, even if I was, finding one in my bedroll for the fourth time rather lowers the shock value. Not only is their prank not effective, it's not even original at this point. They could at least use a mouse or something for a change, the frog prank is getting old."
"How come you know so much about pranks?" Bofur asked him, interested. Bilbo gave him a look.
"Young hobbits are full of mischief. I was no different. When I was a boy, I used to run around the Shire with a band of my Took cousins, causing trouble. It gave my mother no small amount of grief to hear about all the pranks we had pulled on our unsuspecting neighbours."
"Maybe you should tell them about it. They love hearing tales like that," Bombur said.
Bilbo gave the pair of princes in question a thoughtful look.
"I'd rather not give them any ideas."
"Or you can stuff a frog in their beds in return," Bofur told him with a grin. Bilbo grinned in response, but shook his head.
"That wouldn't be wise. Thorin would have my head if he heard about it. I've seen how he chewed them out yesterday for that stunt with the ponies. I'd rather not cross him if I can help it."
"I can't fault you for that," Bofur said. "Still, you should talk to them, or you will have froggy bedrolls all the way to Rivendell. They have trouble taking a hint unless you tell them outright."
"That seems to be a common trait with you dwarves," Bilbo said, but his tone was more amused than insulting. Bofur nodded in agreement.
"Aye, our kin can be pretty dense. Go talk to them, I'll help Bombur with dinner."
They watched as the hobbit walked over to Fíli and Kíli to deliver what looked like a pretty impressive lecture. Their fire was too far away from the ponies to hear what he was saying, but the young dwarves' faces were telling enough. At first they looked sheepish, but their amusement quickly returned. In no time Bilbo was seated with them, the three heads bent together as he explained something.
Bombur turned back to his pot with a smile. Bilbo was finally making friends.
°O°O°O°
Bombur was a kindly creature by nature and generally patient with everyone, but he was very touchy about his culinary prowess. So when a week later Óin started complaining about eating the same stew for five days in a row with Dori vocally joining in, Bombur threw down his ladle and stormed off into the woods, anger burning like bile in his throat.
They're tired of his stew? He'll tell them where they can stick it if they don't like it. He stomped through the forest, fuming.
Finally, he sat down on a tree stump and almost at once he could feel the anger bleeding out, leaving him feeling foolish. Why had he run away like that? And over such a silly matter... He had never been able to stay angry for long and when he did get angry, he just looked silly, not impressive like Thorin or Dwalin. Now he would have to go back to the camp and his companions would laugh at him for throwing a tantrum. He wasn't looking forward to it in the slightest.
Suddenly, there was a slight movement behind the tree to his right. Bombur made to stand and reach for a weapon, but relaxed when he saw it was only Bilbo.
The hobbit gave him a small smile of greeting, but stayed standing at the edge of the clearing. Bombur thought it was a bit sad that even though he had considered them friends for weeks now, Bilbo was apparently still unsure of his welcome.
"I had planned to sulk on my own for a while," Bombur said, "but I think I'd rather have some company."
The tension in Bilbo's shoulders eased a bit and he walked over to him, sitting down on the soft forest floor.
"You know, Bombur, your companions are a bunch of ungrateful whiners. And hypocrites to boot."
Bombur looked around in alarm, praying that Thorin wasn't hiding somewhere close, listening to the halfling badmouthing him. But luck, it seemed, was on their side and nobody had followed them from the camp. He motioned for the hobbit to lower his voice and whispered.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, they had the gall to complain about having warm food for dinner every night, even though none of them can cook half as well as you. If you ever decided not to cook dinner, they would have to content themselves with a few unseasoned, half burned squirrels."
Bombur smiled a bit, grateful for Bilbo's attempt to cheer him up. Bilbo continued.
"But I found out something else. Fíli and Kíli are always eager to talk about their home and have told me many interesting things. Apparently, Thorin has a palace in the Blue Mountains and most of you lot live there with him. I was so moved by Balin's story when he told us about the ransacking of Erebor that I believed Thorin all this time when he painted you as some poor band of homeless, orphaned dwarves, wandering the wilderness for nearly two hundred years."
He cocked his head.
"But it's not completely true, is it? If my calculations are correct, you have been living in the Blue Mountains for close to a hundred years. Fíli and Kíli were born there, spent their entire lives there. As have you."
At Bilbo's questioning gaze, Bombur slowly nodded.
"So I was right." Bilbo looked pleased with himself. "Your merry companions would like to present themselves to me as a group of hardy warriors, toughened by years of hardship, but with the exception of Thorin, Balin and Dwalin, most of you have been living your lives quite comfortably these past few decades. Comfortably enough, in fact, that they have the gall to complain about having the wrong sort of stew for dinner.
"I am not trying to mock you," he added quickly, when he realized how flippant he sounded. "I realize that losing your ancestral home to the dragon was a terrible tragedy and that a lot of your kin feel uprooted, but I think it is a bit ungrateful towards Thorin in particular when you all act like you are beggars. According to Balin, Thorin helped rebuild the ancient ancestral home in Belegost and your people are quite well-off these years." He lowered his gaze. "I may not like Thorin much, but I respect what he has done for your people. He may have his faults, but he is a leader worth following. I can see why you all look up to him."
"How can you dislike Thorin and admire him at the same time?" Bombur asked, puzzled. Bilbo snorted.
"Well, for one, he was awfully rude to me when we met. His barging into my home and insulting me as a way of greeting didn't leave the best first impression. Since then, he has done little to endear himself to me. He is arrogant and overbearing and treats me like a particularly cumbersome piece of luggage, or a wet dog that somebody let into the dining hall." He sighed.
"But however much I may dislike him as a person, I can see his worth as a leader. I may not like him, but I will follow him nonetheless." He turned to look at Bombur. "Does that make any sense?"
Bombur took a moment to think about it. He himself was quite fond of Thorin, because the king loved his apple pies and would often come to his kitchen early in the morning to watch him bake and then steal a few of them away before his nephews discovered them. He had always treated Bombur with respect and made it a point to show that he valued his work.
His own fondness for the king notwithstanding, Bombur could see why Bilbo might not like him. To an outsider Thorin seemed harsh and grim, his straightforward manner coming across as rudeness. For someone as used to gentle manners as Bilbo was, it must have been quite a shock to be treated with such disrespect. And, king or not, Thorin had been very rude to the halfling.
Bombur didn't dare give any of those thoughts voice, so he opted for nodding instead.
"I think I know what you mean."
Bilbo got up from the ground, brushing pine needles off his trousers.
"Are your gloomy thoughts gone yet, Bombur?"
To his surprise, Bombur realized that he was indeed feeling much better. Bilbo's presence was much more effective at dispelling his bad mood than any amount of brooding would have been. He stood up.
"Yes, thank you for coming after me." He gave Bilbo a smile. "We should probably go back."
They started walking at a leisurely pace, neither of them too eager to rejoin their companions just yet.
"You know, Bombur," Bilbo said, "if you are still feeling unappreciated, I can tell you that I know a most wondrous mix of herbs that will help you make the best rabbits roast tomorrow."
They barely made it twenty feet before a shadow moved behind a nearby tree and Thorin stepped out, his face like a thundercloud.
"There you are."
Bombur swallowed nervously, wondering just how much of their conversation Thorin had heard. He tried coming up with some excuse, but realized suddenly that Thorin wasn't looking at him at all. His gaze was firmly trained on the hobbit, who looked rather puzzled by the attention.
Bombur finally found his voice.
"There was no need to come for us, Thorin. We were just coming back to the camp."
The dark haired dwarf nodded and gestured for Bombur to lead the way, while he himself fell in step with the hobbit. Bombur breathed a small sigh of relief as he started heading back, glad that there was no problem after all.
Just as the light of the campfire became visible through the trees, Thorin spoke up behind him.
"So, I am rude, am I?"
To be continued...
Disclaimer: No frogs were harmed during the making of this story :D
A/N: Did you know that Bombur doesn't have a single spoken line in the first hobbit movie? I think that's a bit sad. The film is almost three hours long, and plenty of time is given to Radagast's flailing and Saruman's council, and yet they couldn't be bothered to give any lines to the dwarves who are the actual protagonists of the book. I really hope the second movie improves upon that.
I'm writing the chapters in this story with the movie characters in mind, but in the case of Bombur, I had nothing to go on. The movie ignores him almost completely and his only characteristics in the book are that he's fat (mention at least once ever chapter) and tends to complain a lot. Not the most flattering description. I'm really curious what you thought about my version, because this dwarf was tough to write for me.
The next chapter should be up in the next few days.
Fanart for this chapter can be found here: nazgullow dot deviantart dot com / art / Discovering-Mr-Baggins-Bombur- 425341373