Chapter 3 - Ori
Chapter summary: Rivendell was the most beautiful place Ori had ever seen.
Rivendell was the most beautiful place Ori had ever seen. While the others grumbled about being tricked by the wizard and having to take refuge in a house of their enemies, Ori didn't mind. He had never shared the dislike of elves that most of the other dwarves seemed to have.
In fact, his feelings towards their hosts were quite the opposite – he had always secretly admired elvish culture and languages and had long hoped that he would be able to visit the Hidden Valley one day. When he was a boy, he had managed to come by a tattered copy of old Elvish tales and spent many years trying to decipher the language, eventually managing to learn the language well enough to be able to read the stories and poems within. Since then, he had read every book that he could get his hands on (which was a surprisingly high number, for a dwarvish library) and had spent plenty of days dreaming about mighty deeds and brave heroes from ages long past.
Just like his drawing, his knowledge of elvish was a hobby that he hid away from the world and only used for his own enjoyment, guarding his skill most jealously. He especially liked the letters, the flowing elegance of the elven script as compared to the angular runes of the dwarven tongues and he soon started using the script for his personal notes, especially the ones he didn't want his nosy brothers to read.
Having spent most of his life in Ered Luin, he had never had the opportunity to meet any elves personally (the only ones he'd seen had been the ones heading for the harbour in Grey Havens, and those had been far off and too engrossed in their affairs to spare a moment for a curious dwarfling), but he had always hoped that he would be able to meet them one day. Thus, for him the elves had remained creatures of strange beauty, hidden by a veil of mystery.
Coming into Rivendell had been like stepping into a dream. This was a place that still lived in the times of the legends, untouched by the changing world around it. The very architecture seemed to breathe with ages of history, giving the impression that any minute a hero of old might step around a corner, and it took all of Ori's restraint not to go running to the library the first chance he had. He knew that Thorin wanted to leave as soon as possible, but still hoped that they might be able to stay at least for a few days.
They had little contact with the elves on their first night in Rivendell. After a quick dinner they all gratefully went to bed, weary after their flight from the orcs. Gandalf had opted to leave any serious business for the morning, letting them rest. They found their breakfast already waiting in their rooms when they woke up and even though a few of them were miffed about the absence of bacon, the fruit and wafers were nice enough.
Ori was just putting on his boots and wondering if he could go for a walk around the house when Thorin walked over to him, looking intent.
"Your brother tells me that you can understand Elvish. Is that true?" He started without any preamble.
Ori looked up, startled.
"I- yes, a bit. I can't speak it, though."
Thorin leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"I want you to pay attention to what those pointy-eared bastards whisper behind our backs. Can you do that?"
"Ye- yes, I think so," Ori stuttered. He dropped his eyes to the floor to avoid Thorin's burning gaze. Having all that attention suddenly turned on his person made him highly uncomfortable.
"If you find out anything, report it to me." Without further word, Thorin turned on his heel and strode away.
Ori took a calming breath and waited a minute for his hands to stop shaking before he gathered his notebook and quill and went to search for the library. It didn't take him long to find it. The room was enormous, spanning two floors and appeared to be completely empty at first. A closer look, however, revealed another occupant - one barely visible over the pile of books around him.
Bilbo Baggins was sitting at a corner table with an enormous volume opened in front of him and seemed to be in a world of his own. Not wanting to disturb him, Ori turned away and started to peruse the many bookshelves. He was so absorbed in reading the book titles that he didn't notice the hobbit approach him until he was standing less than two feet away.
"Do you like books, Master Ori?" Bilbo asked, making the dwarf in question jump and back away a few steps. The hobbit raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I am sorry for startling you like that. I cleared my throat a few times, but you didn't seem to hear me."
"N-no, it's quite all right," Ori replied, walking back to stand on his previous spot. "I got lost in my own head for a bit. It happens to me a lot. Dori always scolds me for it, but I can't help it." He shut his mouth at once, embarrassed that he had gone on such a monologue, but Bilbo's expression wasn't mocking. If anything, the hobbit gave him an understanding smile.
"When I was younger I used to spend whole days just laying on my back under an apple tree in my mother's garden and daydreaming," Bilbo confessed in a low voice. "I was forced to stop my indulgence when I took over Bag-End, but I still enjoy a good story whenever I can get it." He gave the bookcase a speculative glance. "Are you interested in elvish stories?"
His voice held none of the judgement that a dwarf's would if they asked that question, so Ori decided to answer honestly.
"Yes, I like them very much. I think they are beautiful, all those tales of great battles and eternal love. I would read them all day if I could."
"So would I," Bilbo said, smiling. "You can read them here; there are all sorts of interesting books in this library. I think we are going to spend a few more days here, so you should have plenty of time to read."
"If I only knew where to start," Ori sighed, gazing wistfully at the library. "There are so many books here and so little time."
"Let me help you," Bilbo offered and they spent several enjoyable moments perusing the library as they looked for the perfect title. Together they selected several books and moved back to Bilbo's table in the corner of the library. The desk was covered in maps and books and Bilbo moved a few of them carefully aside to make room for Ori's books. Ori couldn't help but feel curious upon seeing a map of Erebor lying on top of the books.
"Might I ask what you were reading before I came in? Unless it's a secret," he hastily added, remembering that Nori often didn't like it when he asked him questions about his business.
"This?" Bilbo lifted the map in question. "I'm doing a bit of research. I know a fair bit about elves and their history, but next to nothing about dwarves - or dragons, for that matter. I don't like being in the dark, especially since a dragon is involved and I'm expected to do something about him. All of this probably won't help me much in the end, but at least I will have some idea of what I am facing."
"That sounds reasonable," Ori nodded. "I can tell you what I know about our history, but there are probably plenty of things that nobody told me, either because they thought I wasn't old enough, or because they are a secret."
"I would be happy to hear about it," Bilbo said, "but for now I won't keep you from your book. There will be plenty of time for dwarvish tales once we're back the road."
They settled into a comfortable silence, the books before them drawing them in. Time flew and sooner than Ori would have liked, a fair-haired elf came to summon them for lunch.
To say the atmosphere at the meal was tense would be an understatement. The dwarves weren't even pretending to pay attention to the elves now and Gandalf sat with Elrond at the far side of the table, muttering in Elvish. Thorin was tense, shooting the wizard sideways glances full of suspicion. Dwalin looked to be about two steps away from drawing his axe. The others huddled together, picking at their food, which was still woefully lacking any meat.
Suddenly, Bilbo's voice rose above the table in a clear, if slightly accented Sindarin. Everyone around the table paused and several of the dwarves seemed to forget about the food in their hands. Elrond looked at the hobbit in surprise.
"What did you say?" he asked in Westron.
"I said," Bilbo switched to the Common tongue, "that it is awfully rude of you to speak in a language your guests do not understand, especially if they are sitting right next to you." He flashed a pointed gaze at Thorin. "Also, if you were aiming for secrecy, you should have made sure that there is no one at the table who can understand you."
Reaching for a bread bun, he muttered: "I thought elves had better manners than this."
There was a choking sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter and Gandalf hastily reached for a napkin, eyes twinkling.
Elrond luckily appeared more amused than angry at being admonished for his bad manners by a creature half his size.
"Tell me, Master Baggins, do all hobbits speak Elvish?" The elven lord appeared genuinely curious.
"Oh, definitely not," Bilbo said. "Most of them don't care about what goes on outside their own gardens. There are a few Tooks who sometimes travel to Bree, but that is as far as anyone goes. There is no need for anyone to learn Elvish, or Dwarvish, for that matter. Whatever Shire may be, a land of scholars it is not."
"So how did you come by your knowledge of the Elven Tongue?" Elrond asked. "You speak surprisingly well for someone who has had little contact with my kin."
Bilbo shrugged.
"I have books. I own several volumes of elvish poetry and old tales, brought from their travels by a few adventurous relatives of mine. When I have time, I translate them into the Common Tongue. I haven't had much opportunity to speak the languages though. The elves passing through our lands are few and far between and seldom willing to stop for a while and chat with a hobbit."
"Do you speak Quenya as well?"
Bilbo shook his head.
"Not much. I know a few words, but that's about it. I find Sindarin a lot easier than High Elvish. I suppose that with time and some practice, I could speak both." His eyes flitted over the present dwarves. "I am afraid that I never had the opportunity to learn any Dwarvish." He gave an apologetic smile to Balin, who smiled in return.
"You may learn yet, laddie."
The rest of the meal passed much easier, with most of Elrond's attention given to Bilbo, who was doing his best to answer all of his questions. Several elves came to speak with the hobbit after the lunch, surrounding him on one of the terraces, and they were delighted that such a tiny creature from far away land had knowledge of their language and culture. Bilbo's Elvish was a bit halting at first, as he stumbled over some of the more difficult words, but with the passing time he started to relax and the words came to him easier. Soon he was chattering away, chuckling at a joke that one of the elves made.
Ori sat on a nearby bench, drawing in his notebook and listening to their conversation with half an ear, when a shadow fell on him. He looked up to find Thorin looming over him, watching the halfling with suspicion.
"What are they talking about?" Thorin murmured.
Ori risked a quick glance at the group, making sure they couldn't hear him.
"So far they have talked about the Shire, the hobbit race and gardening and right now they are discussing elvish poetry." Ori thought it was innocuous enough, but Thorin's face stayed clouded.
"Keep an eye on him." He stormed away.
After dinner, which had been pleasant for a change, Elrond himself approached Bilbo.
"Lindir tells me that you have put some of the ancient tales into verse. Would you be willing to recite a few of them this evening? We rarely have guests in Rivendell and my kin would love to hear you sing."
Bilbo looked a little surprised at the request, but delighted nonetheless.
"Well, it is an honour, but surely you are used to much higher quality around here."
Elrond gave him a rare smile.
"Have no worry about your reception. Hearing a new voice will be very refreshing."
As if Elrond's confidence had given him courage, Bilbo stood a little straighter, his chest puffing out.
"If that's the case, then surely I cannot refuse. However, I would prefer to sing tomorrow, if you don't mind. It's been a while since I last read those poems and my memory is a little rusty. Is there anything in particular you wish to hear?"
"My daughter is fond of the tale of Beren and Lúthien," Elrond said. "As for my sons, you cannot go wrong with a tale of heroic deeds. You would have to ask the others yourself what they want to hear."
"Well then, I will take my leave and prepare a few pieces." Bilbo gave Elrond a small bow and walked out of the room. Most of the elves had already left as well, disappearing Mahal knows where.
Glóin was looking after Bilbo's retreating figure with a frown.
"He can sing? Did anyone know that?"
"I did." Bombur said around his mouthful of bread. Everyone looked at him. He took a sip of wine to wash down the bite. "He has a nice voice."
"Why did he never sing for us?" Kíli sounded affronted.
Bombur shrugged and reached for another loaf of bread, unwilling to tell any more. No amount of curious wheedling managed to get the plump dwarf to talk, so the Companions soon lost interest in the subjects and one by one wandered away to pursue their own pastimes. Ori decided to take a walk around Rivendell's gardens and spent a pleasurable hour watching the sunset and soaking up the peaceful atmosphere.
When he came back into the room he shared with Dori and Nori, he found both of his brothers present, locked in one of their customary quarrels. They both fell silent when he entered, the air between them simmering with silent tension.
Before he could ask about the source of their quarrel, Dori turned to him, his eyes checking for any signs of discomfort or injury. Ori used to find Dori's checkups annoying when he'd been younger, his brother's eyes making him feel like he was fifteen again and had just scraped his knee on the gravel path in front of their house, but out here on the road their ritual felt strangely soothing, like a small dose of normalcy among all the excitement and danger around them.
"What have you been up to?" Dori asked. "We've barely seen you all day."
Ori walked over to his bedside table, putting his books down.
"I spent the day in the library with Mr Baggins."
"Spying for Thorin?" Nori raised a sarcastic eyebrow.
"What- How did you-" Ori sputtered. He recovered quickly enough, drawing himself up in face of his brother's knowing smirk. "No, if you must know, I did it because I wanted to. Bilbo is nice and I enjoy his company. He knows a lot about elvish history and culture and he was kind enough to recommend several good books to me."
"That sounds like a hobbit after your own heart," Dori said with a small smile. "I'm glad you had a good time. I haven't spoken with the hobbit much myself, but he seems like a polite, decent sort of fellow."
Ori beamed.
"Yes, I think we are well on our way to becoming friends."
"I hope you are not thinking of something more than friends," Nori gave him a side-eye.
"What? No!" Ori backpedalled. "How did you even come up with that? He's nice, but I don't like him like that."
"Good," Nori said. "Just thought I should warn you in case you started to get any ideas - that path might be very dangerous. Borderline suicidal, even."
"What do you mean-?" Ori started to ask, but Dori spoke over him.
"You're one to talk," he shot at Nori, "after the stunt you pulled today."
"What?" Ori was confused. "What happened?"
Dori and Nori exchanged a silent glance, obviously trying to come up with a way to hide the problem for him, but Ori wasn't interested in hearing excuses. His brothers had always kept important things from him because they thought that he was too young to know about them and he was getting tired of being constantly left in the dark. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to look more impressive than he felt.
"Please don't lie to me," he told them before Dori could open his mouth. "If I'm old enough to go on the quest with you, I'm old enough to know what's going on."
His brothers exchanged another look, before Dori gave Ori a resigned nod.
"Very well. You want to know what happened? I'll tell you what happened. Our idiot brother thought it would be a great idea to pick a fight with Dwalin, of all people."
Nori, who had gone over to the window, whirled back at that.
"I already told you it wasn't my fault."
"You should not provoke him like that," Dori said. "You know how he is."
"I didn't start it!" Nori protested, "I was just minding my own business when he came over to me and accused me of stealing one of his knives. I told him that I didn't have it, because I have plenty of knives of my own, and expressed my awe that he was even able to tell that something was missing, since he probably had trouble finding his own feet in the morning. That pissed him off and he started threatening me, at which point I helpfully suggested that he try looking for his missing knife inside his own arse, since his head seems to be permanently stuck in there. He then called me a bastard and threatened to cut off my head, at which point you arrived and dragged me away."
Dori ran a hand over his face in clear exasperation.
"For Mahal's sake, how many times do I have to tell you not to get into fights with him? I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised if he snapped one day and really cut your head off."
"This has happened before?" Ori asked, puzzled. He had never noticed anything amiss between the two.
"Nori and Dwalin have had a feud for years now," Dori said.
Nori sat down at the windowsill and started sharpening his knife, his expression surly.
"He caught me stealing once and has been out for my blood ever since, trying to accuse me of made-up crimes just so that he can bully me."
"You don't exactly help the situation, acting like you do," Dori pointed out.
"I don't have to prove anything to him," Nori replied haughtily. "He's the one bullying me. I just call him out on it because he's an idiot."
"He may be an idiot, but he's also Thorin's best friend," Dori reminded him. "If it ever came down to the word of you two, who do you think he would believe? Thorin may trust you, but his kin will always come first for him."
Nori made a disgusted face and returned back to his work, not willing to discuss it anymore. Ori walked over to his bed and crawled on it, leaning back until he was propped comfortably against the wall. He pulled a book on his lap, eager to continue reading the story. Before he opened the book, however, a flash of memory came back to him.
"I think that Fíli has it," he told the dwarves in the room. They both raised their heads with the start, as if they had forgotten that he was there, too.
"Fíli has what?" Nori asked.
"The knife," Ori said. "I think I saw him playing with it this afternoon. He and Kíli sometimes secretly borrow Dwalin's weapons and then snicker behind his back when he can't find them. I'll tell Fíli to give it back tomorrow, so that he stops bothering you."
Nori gave him a crooked smile.
"That's really nice of you, Ori, but I don't think he will stop harassing me just because he learns that it wasn't me this time. He's like a dog with a bone."
Dori, bless his heart, caught the hidden implication in Nori's sentence.
"This time? Do you mean to tell me that you have stolen from him before?" His voice started rising dangerously and Ori lifted his book, trying to hide his face behind it. Dori on a rampage was a thing to behold and Ori hoped that he wouldn't get caught in the ensuing blowout as well.
"What if I had?" Nori shot back, defensive. "It would only serve him right, the self-righteous prick."
"You have to be joking."
Ori slunk down from the bed and tiptoed to the door, leaving them to their argument. He was now almost regretting that he had ever asked. With his book clutched in his hands, he started back towards the library. The elves would surely have a nice lamp he could borrow.
°O°O°O°
The argument was still going strong the next morning, making Ori's head hurt from all the yelling. Because he was getting tired of Nori and Dori's endless bickering, Ori decided to go for another walk around the gardens. The elves hadn't forbidden them from leaving the house, so he decided to use the opportunity to explore Rivendell as much as he could. The sun had climbed over the horizon a good while ago, bathing the hidden valley in the golden light of early morning, and the many houses of the famed elven home stood around him in all their beauty, beckoning him to come and take a closer look.
Most of the other dwarves spent their days in Rivendell holed up in their rooms, grumbling about bloody tree-shaggers, but Ori didn't care to imitate them. With the entirety of Rivendell at his disposal he felt like one of the heroes from old stories, with grand adventures waiting for him behind every corner. The few elves that he passed on his way to the gardens paid him little mind, for which he was grateful, because he knew that he must be gaping at all the wall murals and tapestries that he was passing.
Turning a corner, he spied a familiar curly-haired figure sitting on one of the stone benches at a nearby terrace. Bilbo had a book in his lap, but he wasn't reading it. His head was tipped back into the sun and his eyes were closed, an expression of contentment on his face. Ori didn't want to disturb him, but he must have made some noise because the hobbit's eyes suddenly opened and he shot a quick look around before he saw Ori and relaxed again. He beckoned Ori to come closer and closed his eyes again, going back to basking in the sunlight.
Ori walked over and sat down next to the hobbit, trying to take a discreet peek at the book in Bilbo's lap.
"I think I could stay here forever," Bilbo said quietly. "It's so beautiful and peaceful here."
"It is beautiful," Ori said. "It's too bad that we won't stay here for very long. I would love to explore the library some more."
"I'm thinking of moving here when I am old," Bilbo said. Ori looked at him in surprise.
"I thought Shire was your home."
Bilbo shrugged.
"It is. I am just not sure if I'll be able to survive another sixty years there. My neighbours and relatives can be vexing on the best of days."
"If you want to move away, why don't you stay in Erebor with us?"
Bilbo snorted.
"I don't think Thorin would allow that. He seems to be annoyed with everything I do. I can't imagine him being willing to have me around permanently. Besides, I haven't even seen Erebor yet. I have no idea if I will like it. Rivendell, on the other hand, is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Just sitting here with a book brings me peace unlike any I have ever felt." His eyes turned distant. "I think I will be in sore need of peace once this business with the dragon is over."
"It does all seem to be rather exciting, is it not?" Ori asked. "With the trolls and orcs and everything?"
"A bit too much excitement for my taste," Bilbo said. "And the thought that we're barely halfway to Erebor doesn't bring much comfort, either. Valar know what else will happen to us before we finally arrive to the mountain."
He didn't look very happy with the prospect. Ori decided to change the subject.
"You brought a book of poetry on the quest with you?" He nodded towards the book in Bilbo's lap.
"Didn't you?" Bilbo raised an eyebrow. Ori lowered his gaze.
"I did," he admitted, reaching into his jacket for the small volume. Instead of handing it to Bilbo he cradled it in his hands, running gentle fingers over the well-worn cover. "It probably won't survive the journey, but I wanted to have it with me nonetheless."
"Dwarvish poems?"
"And elvish," Ori said, flipping a few pages at random to show Bilbo a glimpse of the writing. "I have always wanted to write some stories of my own, but I never seem to find the right words."
"What sort of tales do you dwarves have?" Bilbo cocked his head in curiosity. "Stories of mighty deeds and hoards of treasure?"
"Yes, we have plenty of stories like that," Ori smiled. "We like tales about great heroes and bloody battles, but we have a lot of love stories as well. I think most of us have a soft spot for those, since love is so hard to find for our kind."
"Is it?" Bilbo seemed genuinely interested.
"It is." Ori nodded. "Less than half of us ever find someone to marry, so it is considered a great blessing for a dwarf to find their One. Those who don't usually marry someone nice enough, but a lot of our kin just decide forgo marriage altogether and turn towards their craft instead."
They fell silent after that, both of them getting lost in their own thoughts. A blur of movement caught Ori's eyes and he spotted Thorin with his nephews on the terrace below. They were all dressed in their mail and it looked like Thorin was putting them through their paces, forcing them to practice their sword fighting and archery even here, in this peaceful place.
Ori pitied the princes a bit, because it was obvious that neither of them was pleased about being robbed of their free time, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel a little envious of their grace and skill with which they wielded their blades. He himself had never managed to learn how to fight properly and he knew that his sling was a source of amusement among the older companions.
He was drawn out of his thoughts by Bilbo's voice. The hobbit was watching the trio of dwarves as well, his expression thoughtful as he followed Thorin with his eyes.
"Did Thorin's partner die?" he asked quietly. "Is that why he is in such a bad mood all the time?"
Ori looked around in alarm to make sure nobody was listening to their conversation.
"You can't just ask something like that," he told the hobbit in a hurried whisper. When Bilbo's face pulled into a confused frown, he continued more calmly. "Our romantic lives are a very private matter for dwarves, especially when the romance doesn't end well."
"Oh," said Bilbo. "I didn't know that. I'm sorry if my question was inappropriate." He made a move to stand up, but Ori halted him, shaking his head. He took another cautious look around before he leaned closer.
"It's not really proper of me to talk about this, but since I don't know much, I don't think it can do any harm."
Bilbo leaned closer on the bench, eyes full of curiosity.
"I don't know Thorin very well, you see," Ori told him in a confidential whisper. "Before this quest started, I have only ever seen him from afar, so I'm not privy to his secrets, but as far as I know he's not married at the moment nor has he ever been. Maybe his partner died long ago, but I think it's more probable that he never met anyone, because the local gossips like to tell tales about his sister's frustration with Thorin's continued refusal to take a spouse. I don't know how much of that is true and what has been made up – you would probably have to ask Nori about that, since he is much more knowledgeable about those things than I am."
"No, that's all right," Bilbo said, looking a bit embarrassed. "I really didn't mean to pry into his private business. I was just wondering why he always seems so grim. Thank you for telling me this."
He resolutely tore his eyes away from the trio below and stood up, slipping the book of poems back into his vest pocket.
"Come, Ori, there should be enough sunlight in the library by now for us to read comfortably."
°O°O°O°
That night Ori came into the music hall to find it full of elves seated around the room on various chairs and stools, waiting in anticipation. Bilbo was standing at the front of the room, talking to the harpist in a low voice. Ori made his way to Balin, who was already seated in a comfortable armchair in a corner. The older dwarf smiled at him and handed him a cushion.
When Ori was seated, Balin leaned to him and whispered: "It is amusing, how our companions think they are being inconspicuous." He nodded in the direction of the hallway, where stood several of the dwarfs, their heads poking over the railing.
Their attention was soon diverted back to Bilbo, who had finally stepped forward to present his first poem, and from the corner of his eye Ori could see the dwarves slowly starting to sneak into the hall and trying to sit down nonchalantly. Balin's grin grew with every passing dwarf, but his eyes stayed resolutely on the hobbit.
Bombur had been right – Bilbo really did have a lovely voice. He sang in a clear, pleasant tenor that harmonized nicely with the harp and carried around the hall. He sang several ballads and even though some of the verses didn't quite do justice to the Elvish original, the elves didn't seem to mind, smiling at him indulgently.
Most of the company had gradually gathered in the hall, curiosity getting the better of them and winning over their dislike of anything elvish. Only Dwalin had openly refused to come, declaring the whole affair "poncy elvish nonsense" and Thorin had disappeared right after dinner, but as Ori looked around in the middle of Bilbo's rendition of "The Fall of Gondolin", he spied the dwarven king standing by the door, hidden in the shadows. Thorin had a strange look on his face as he gazed at the hobbit and Ori didn't know what to make of it.
Later, when most of the company had already gone to bed and Ori was returning from his bath, he came by chance across Gandalf and Thorin, who were standing together below one of the balconies. They were talking in low voices, but Ori had sharp ears and when he leaned in close enough, he had no trouble discerning their words.
"Your Halfling is spending an awful lot of time with those tree-shaggers, muttering in elvish," Thorin was saying. "I don't like it. Are you really sure he is trustworthy?"
"Do not question my judgement, Thorin Oakenshield." Gandalf sounded rather irritated, as if this was an argument they had had several times before and he was running out of patience. "I personally chose him for this quest. If I say he is trustworthy, then trustworthy he is. The elves have simply taken a liking to him and he enjoys their company, because they treat him with respect, unlike some." He gave Thorin a very pointed glare.
Thorin huffed.
"If he likes the pointy-eared bastards so much, then why doesn't he just stay with them? Nobody forced him to come with us." His voice sharpened. "What use is he to the company? He cannot fight. He's not even a proper burglar. So far, I haven't seen any qualities that would earn my respect and I very much doubt that the dragon will be charmed by his elvish poetry. Why did he come with us, Gandalf?"
"You will have to ask him that, for I do not know. Bilbo's reasons for joining your quest are his own and I do not presume to know his heart. As for his qualities – you will have to discover those for yourself. I doubt that even he is fully aware of all the things he is capable of. Give him time, he may surprise you yet."
"I very much doubt that," Thorin said haughtily.
"Let him be, Thorin. If nothing else, right now he is doing a marvellous job of averting the attention away from your quest."
Thorin looked surprised.
"That...is true. I have to admit, nobody has asked after the purpose of our journey yet, and we have been here for three days already. I had expected a shower of questions, but everyone has been too busy fawning over the Halfling to pay any attention to us." His eyes narrowed. "Is he doing all of this on purpose?"
Gandalf just gave him a mysterious smile and walked away, humming a tune under his breath. Thorin sat down on the bench, looking thoughtful.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway and Ori realized that he was standing on a balcony in his nightshirt and anyone could walk by and see him spying on their leader. Clutching his bundle of clothes tightly to his chest, Ori carefully tiptoed away.
To be continued...
A/N: Word of warning: not all of the dwarfs are warm and cuddly. In the book version they all resemble a group of doddering uncles, bumbling their way to Erebor (except for Thorin, who is insufferable half the time) and the movie didn't give most of them much space to shine, either, so I have decided to take it upon myself and give the dwarves a bit of a personality, to make them distinguishable from each other by something besides their hair. I like all of the dwarves and won't do any bashing, but I thought it might be interesting to give some of them a bit of greyer morality, so that they aren't all just copies of each other.
The feud between Dwalin and Nori is entirely my fabrication and has nothing to do with either the book or the movie. From my experience, a group of people can't spend this much time in such close quarters without conflicts. Not all of these dwarves were friends when they set out - about half of the group are various relatives from the Durin line, while the rest are just random dwarves who had joined them for various reasons. I thought it wouldn't be unreasonable to think that after the initial excitement from the Shire wore off, the gears would start to grind a bit. Mr Tolkien mentions a few conflicts within the group, but he never elaborates, so I decided to play with that aspect a bit.
Fanart for this chapter can be found here: nazgullow dot deviantart dot com / art / Discovering-Mr-Baggins-Ori- 425474407