Chapter 12 - Dori
Chapter summary: "How curious that of all the races in Middle-Earth, hobbits should prove to be the most resistant to evil."
For three days Bilbo slept, battling a force greater than himself.
Thorin had to be bodily removed from his bedside in the evening of the second day, because it was clear that he was still weak from his injuries and blood loss and was risking that he would pull his stitches and reopen the wounds that Óin had so carefully closed just a few days before. Being forced into his bed didn't prevent Thorin from craning his head to watch the slow rise and fall of the hobbit's chest, anxiously waiting for any change in his state.
Gandalf came to check on them both several times, his eyes sad when they landed on Bilbo's prone form. Just like he had before, he passed his hand over Bilbo's brow, muttering words in a long-forgotten language. Every time after he did that, he stood up with a mute shake of his head and walked out of the tent, his shoulders hunched.
The dwarves from the Company had taken to visiting Thorin's tent in their spare time, sitting by Bilbo's bedside in a silent vigil over the sleeping hobbit. When Dori came in for his own visit in the evening of the third day, the sight before him made him stop in his tracks.
Thorin was kneeling on the floor by Bilbo's bed, holding one of the hobbit's hands pressed against his lips, his head bowed in a fervent prayer. Dori had no idea how Thorin had managed to get out of his bed and into such a position on his own, but he didn't have the slightest inclination to ask the king about that. The expression on Thorin's face made Dori feel like he was intruding upon something intensely private and he took a few careful steps back, slipping discreetly out of the tent. He sat down on the bench beside the entrance, keeping watch to prevent anyone from going in.
Dori gave the tent behind him a sad glance, his heart aching in sympathy for Thorin's pain. In his many years, he had seen more than a few dwarves lose their chosen mates both on the battlefield and outside of it, and the process was always heartbreaking to watch. He could only imagine Thorin's regret at their bitter parting and the fact that he had never had the chance to properly apologise to Bilbo for his words and actions regarding the Arkenstone.
Balin came over to the tent sometime later, but before he could enter, Dori stopped him with a hand on his arm and a shake of his head. Insightful as ever, the old dwarf gave the door flap a knowing glance before he sat down and drew out his pipe, offering to light Dori's as well. They sat together in a companionable silence, gazing into the deepening night.
Elvish music carried through the air over the camp, their voices mourning the loss of their kin. There would be time enough for celebrations of their victory later, much later, but now, with the corpses of the warriors still lying unburied and Bilbo teetering between life and death, nobody felt like celebrating.
Their songs were sad and beautiful, touching the hearts of everyone who heard them. Even though the dwarves didn't understand the words, the message of the music was clear enough. There was grief in it and regret and longing, but hope as well – a promise of healing and new beginnings.
It was during one of the elvish ballads that Dori heard a whisper of a motion in the tent behind him. He exchanged a glance with Balin, feeling hope rise in his chest. A long moment of silence passed while they waited in suspense, and then they heard Bilbo's voice. It was weak and raspy, but definitely his.
Dori sighed in relief, giving Balin a grin, but didn't hurry to rise from his seat just yet. Instead he finished his pipe, using the opportunity to give the two in the tent some time alone. He was sure that Bilbo and Thorin had plenty to talk about and didn't need nosy people barging in on them just yet.
"Should we tell the others?" Dori asked Balin in a whisper. Balin smiled.
"Fíli and Kíli would never forgive us if we didn't. You can go and get everyone, I will help Thorin back into his chair."
They shared a knowing look before Dori stood up and went to search for the rest of the group. The dwarves tended to be all over the place during the day, helping wherever was needed, but in the evenings the Companions usually gathered in Fíli and Kíli's tent, waiting for news of Bilbo. As expected, he found them all in the tent, sitting around and chatting. Even Óin was there, taking a much needed break from his healing duties to allow Thorin some privacy.
Dori could barely contain his excitement when he poked his head in.
"He's awake," he told them, causing them all to jump to their feet.
"Is he really?" Fíli asked eagerly. Dori nodded.
"I haven't seen him yet, but he was talking to Thorin when I left."
"Thank Mahal," Bofur breathed. He stopped near the entrance and threw a look over his shoulder. "What are you lot waiting for? A written invitation?"
They all scrambled after him, almost bowling Dori over in their hurry to see Bilbo. Only Fíli and Kíli remained sitting on the beds, giving Óin identical puppy dog eyes. The old dwarf sighed in resignation.
"You can go and see him, as long as you return back to bed later."
They both slid down from their cots in a flash, hurriedly pulling on their boots. Dori waited for them to exit before he followed them as well, walking with Óin.
Thorin's tent was bursting in seams with visitors when Dori walked in. The entire Company had squeezed in, crowding around the bed. Bilbo was indeed awake - he was sitting up on his bed, propped against the pillows. He looked rather pale and a bit overwhelmed with all the attention, but very happy nonetheless. His voice was still low and exhausted when he spoke but his eyes were clear and he was smiling.
Thorin sat in a chair by the bedside, gazing at the hobbit with the same look he'd had on his face when he had first stepped into Erebor after a century and a half of exile. It made Dori almost embarrassed to see so much affection displayed so openly, but since all the others were valiantly pretending not to notice, he decided to turn his attention back to the hobbit as well.
The dwarves stayed for a good while and took turns telling Bilbo about the battle while the hobbit listened attentively. Finally Óin stood up, shooing them out of the tent. Bilbo's eyelids had started to droop and it was clear that he was still exhausted from his fight with the fever. When several of them gave him worried looks after he yawned, he smiled in reassurance.
"Don't worry, this should be the ordinary kind of sleep."
"The last time you said you needed to sleep, you almost died," Bombur pointed out. Bilbo sighed.
"You'll just have to trust me."
They still looked unhappy but left eventually to give the hobbit time to rest. By silent agreement they all returned back to Fíli and Kíli's tent, sitting down around the beds.
"I wish we had some ale," Bofur said wistfully. "This calls for a celebration."
"Shouldn't we tell Gandalf about Bilbo?" Ori asked.
"He probably knows already," Balin said.
"And if he doesn't, it won't hurt him to stew for a little longer," Nori muttered. "This whole mess is his fault in the first place.
"It is, isn't it?" Glóin said slowly. "I do believe we are going to have a few words with the wizard when he shows himself again."
"Let's just celebrate for now," Dori clapped him on the shoulder. "We can chew out the wizard tomorrow."
And celebrate they did, not feeling the slightest bit guilty about singing and laughing while the rest of the camp was still in mourning. They could be appropriately sombre again tomorrow but not tonight – tonight they had plenty to celebrate.
°O°O°O°
Bilbo looked miles better when they came to visit him the next morning. He was sitting up in his bed by himself and he was digging into his porridge with far more enthusiasm than such a bland meal deserved. Thorin was in his own bed this time, but kept sneaking glances at the hobbit as he ate. The dwarves sat around laughing and chatting, keeping the two patients company.
The breakfast was almost over when the flap at the entrance lifted and Gandalf came in, stooping a bit to fit inside the tent. The dwarves moved aside to make space for him and he stopped at the foot of Bilbo's bed, looking down at the hobbit with a pleased smile.
"Bilbo Baggins," he said, "you will never cease to amaze me. I am very glad to see you awake and well. How are you feeling?"
"Much better, thank you," Bilbo gave him a smile in return.
"That is good to hear. Everyone was very worried about you."
"I suppose I will have to thank Thranduil later, won't I?" Bilbo asked. Gandalf nodded.
"Yes. He was the one who healed you."
"I know," Bilbo said. "I was sort of half awake the whole time, so I remember him coming here."
"What else do you remember?" The wizard looked genuinely curious. Bilbo frowned.
"The fever came on very slowly, so I didn't notice anything wrong at first. The sickness was like a creeping fog - it sneaked into my mind when I was asleep, ensnaring it bit by bit. For several weeks I dreamt of gold and plunder at night, but even thought the dreams were strange, I always forgot about them in the morning. I was still mostly myself when I was awake and I had plenty of other things on my mind so I didn't pay much attention to it."
He looked up at the dwarves. "It's only the past week or so that I can't remember all that well. The days all seem to blend together. How long was I asleep?"
"Three days and two nights," Balin replied. "You woke up yesterday evening."
"It feels much longer than that," Bilbo said, his eyes turning distant. "The dreams seemed to go on forever. My mind was filled with fire and gold and I spent ages guarding piles of treasure and flying over mountains in faraway lands. In one of my dreams I was circling above a beautiful city that was burning in the valley below. It was built of marble and stone and shone like a pearl in the afternoon sun."
"Dale?" Balin asked quietly. Bilbo shook his head.
"No. This one was much bigger and looked elvish. Armies stood gathered around it, the likes of which I have never seen, and there were shadows of many flying beasts on the air." He looked up at Gandalf in wonder. "I think I may have seen the fall of Gondolin."
"Have you?" Gandalf looked genuinely intrigued. "I had no idea that Smaug was so old." He ran his hand over his beard, lost in thought for a moment. "This is most interesting. I believe Thranduil would love to hear about it, if you're willing to share your tale."
"Of course," Bilbo nodded. "I was planning to go see him anyway, if he can spare some time for me." He threw away his covers, all prepared to stand up from the bed, but Óin hurried forward, stopping him.
"You've only just woken up, laddie. I don't think you should go running after elves just yet."
"I feel fine," Bilbo protested. "I'm still a bit weak from the fever, but there's nothing wrong with me overall. I would like to spend a few moments out in the sun. The fresh air will do me good."
Óin gave him a doubtful look and made him sit back on the bed while he checked him over. In the end he stepped back, eyeing the hobbit with a puzzled frown.
"Well I'll be damned. You're fit as a fiddle. The wound on your head has almost healed and the bruises are gone. If I haven't seen you lie here for three days I would never have guessed that you were ill." He sighed when he saw Bilbo's expectant look. "Very well, you may go outside for a while, but you'll be back in bed in an hour. Bofur will go with you to make sure you haven't run off somewhere."
Bilbo gave him a smile and slid down from the bed, standing up carefully to avoid getting dizzy. He was just buttoning up his jacket when Gandalf spoke again.
"You hobbits are truly amazing creatures," he said in admiration. "How curious that of all the races in Middle-Earth, hobbits should prove to be the most resistant to evil."
Bilbo paused mid-motion, studying the wizard's face with sharp eyes.
"No," he said resolutely. "Absolutely not. Whatever you are planning - no."
The dwarves looked confused, but Gandalf tried to put on an expression of innocent bafflement.
"My dear Bilbo, what on earth are you talking about?"
"This," Bilbo gestured to his face. "You're plotting something again but I'm telling you right now that I won't be part of it. Once was enough." When the wizard opened his mouth to protest, Bilbo cut him off. "And don't try to involve any of my kinsmen in another one of your harebrained schemes, either. Us hobbits weren't made for battles and adventures." He bent down for his backpack and muttered: "And I don't think my nerves would survive another adventure like this."
"I don't think Thorin would allow it, either," Dori heard Kíli whisper behind him. The king himself was giving the wizard a piercing look, clearly displeased with the idea. Gandalf stared back for a moment before he gave Thorin a nod, yielding. While those two had been caught in a staring contest, Bilbo had finished searching through his backpack and was now clutching a small parcel in his hands.
"What is that?" Fíli asked.
"My gift for Thranduil," Bilbo replied with a smile. He put his backpack back on the ground beside the bed and started heading towards the exit. Bofur flanked him at once and they slowly walked out, going for a stroll around the camp.
The rest of the dwarves stayed behind, giving the wizard identical looks of displeasure. They waited until Bilbo was out of earshot before they turned to the wizard, crowding around him to prevent him from leaving.
"You have a lot to explain," Glóin said, folding his arms.
Gandalf just raised an eyebrow, not intimidated in the slightest.
"You chose him on purpose, didn't you?" Nori asked. "You were planning this all along. How did you know that he would survive the dragon?"
This time Gandalf did not meet their eyes.
"I did not know for certain, but I was hoping for this outcome." His eyes shot towards the exit. "And now he has proved me right."
"And what if he hadn't?" Thorin asked sharply. "What if he had died in the process?"
"Then I would have lost a very good friend," Gandalf said solemnly. Before they could start protesting, he raised his hand, silencing them. "You all have to understand that there are many forces at work in Middle-Earth. Powerful forces you know nothing about. I am but one of them. As much as I would wish to, I cannot put priority on one life over many others. Bilbo Baggins had a vital role to play in the recent events and he played it well. He may have woken up the dragon and indirectly caused the destruction of Lake-town, but his actions have managed to save many other lives as well. He has done many remarkable deeds for one so small."
He sighed.
"For his own sake I hope that he will not have anything else of importance to do after this. He truly deserves a holiday." He smiled at their disbelief. "I'm quite fond of him, you know. I do not wish him any harm."
He ignored their grumbling and walked over to the entrance, peering out through the gap in the fabric. When Dori leaned closer, he could see Bilbo standing some distance away, chatting with the Elvenking. Thranduil was wearing a small smile on his face, his hands carefully cradling something that shone green in the sunlight. Gandalf's smile widened at the sight.
"It appears that Thranduil is quite fond of him as well." He gave Thorin a look. "Erebor will be a very different mountain with Bilbo here."
He turned to leave, but Thorin's voice stopped him.
"Why did Thranduil return the Arkenstone? He has coveted it for years – it was the one jewel that he had always envied my grandfather. Why didn't he take it when he had the chance?" He looked honestly baffled. Gandalf's eyes softened when he saw Thorin's confusion.
"You really do not know?"
"Would I ask you if I did?" Thorin raised an eyebrow. Gandalf chuckled.
"No. You would not." He threw another look at the Elvenking before he turned back to Thorin. "It was a test. He wanted to see just how far you were willing to go for the hobbit. He probably would have healed Bilbo anyway, but he wanted to see whether you meant your offer sincerely. Dwarves often have a habit of promising things that they later refuse to give.
"Also," he continued before Thorin could get huffy, "elves have a soft spot for love stories. Thranduil is no different. He may be a little more jaded than most of his kin, because he has lived for a very long time and seen a lot of tragic things, but he wouldn't wilfully deprive you two of your chance for happiness, when it is in his power to prevent it."
Thorin pursed his lips.
"I thought he only did it to see me humiliated."
"Yes, that too," Gandalf admitted. "I won't deny that it probably brought him some pleasure to see you at your worst, but it certainly wasn't his main motivation. Thranduil may be many things, but he is not evil." He turned to leave, but before he could push the flap aside, he shot Thorin one last look over his shoulder. "And of course you must invite him to the wedding. He would be very cross if you didn't."
Before Thorin could come up with a suitably biting retort, the wizard walked out, a very self-satisfied smile on his face. The rest of the dwarves remained standing by the door, valiantly trying to keep a straight face. Thorin thankfully didn't seem to notice, preoccupied as he was with trying to unravel the wizard's words, so they all muttered their excuses to him and hurried out of the tent.
"Do you really think there will be a wedding?" Ori asked once they were out of earshot. Dori nodded.
"I think there might be, eventually." Dori clapped him on the shoulder. "Give them time. Miracles don't happen overnight."
"Sometimes they do," Fíli remarked and they all turned to watch Bilbo as he spoke with the Elvenking. The elf said something that made the hobbit's face light up and for a moment it almost seemed to them that Bilbo shone in the sun, just a little bit. Then he laughed and the illusion shattered, but the impression remained, making them wonder just what sort of elvish magic had Thranduil used on Bilbo.
"Thorin doesn't know how lucky he is," Kíli muttered as they walked back to the young prices' tent.
"I think he does, laddie," Balin said. "I think he does."
°O°O°O°
The recovery work after the battle was dirty and exhausting. Dozens of elves, men and dwarves worked together to clean the battlefield so that the restoration of Dale and Erebor could begin as soon as possible. While Bilbo and Thorin still remained bedridden in the healing tent, the rest of the Company joined Dáin's dwarves in the cleanup.
It took them all two weeks to clean the field. To save precious firewood for the winter, they decided to dig up huge pits and throw the orc corpses in them, burying them beneath the arms of the mountain. It was nasty work and Dori thought that if he never saw another shovel in his life, it would be too soon. While the elves carried their dead off into the woods and the fallen dwarves got laid down to sleep deep within Erebor, the men of Lake-town simply made several big mounds out of stones near the gates of Dale, sticking the dead men's javelins and swords into the earth around them.
After the work was finally done, all the survivors held an improvised ceremony for the dead on the battlefield, praying for the souls of the dead to find rest in the afterlife. Some of the Lake-men departed after that, going back to Esgaroth, and a lot of the elves went with them. Both Thranduil and Bard stayed behind though, and spent long days in negotiations over the treasure with Dáin.
Bilbo had been declared healthy three days after he had first woken up and spent most of his time helping whenever was needed, assisting the healers and carrying messages. He and Gandalf could often be seen with Bard and Thranduil, trying to mediate the relations between the races. The hobbit was often invited to dine with them both in the evenings, where he would entertain them with tales of his adventures.
Many of Dáin's dwarves soon became curious about the strange halfling residing in Thorin's tent. Who was he? Where did he come from? How did he come by his high status in the king's company? The Companions were more than eager to tell the tale of their quest and soon the stories started to spread – how Bilbo had twice challenged the Pale Orc, how he had faced an army of spiders all by himself, how he had bantered with a dragon.
The fact that he had managed to survive the Dragon Fever only added to his reputation and unbeknownst to him, his legend started to grow. When he passed through the camp in Dale now, there were many eyes following him, watching and wondering.
Unlike Bilbo, Thorin was nowhere to be seen. He kept mostly to his tent and though the official version said that he was still recovering from his injuries, Dori knew all too well that Thorin had been fit enough to walk for days now. It puzzled Dori to no end.
Why wasn't Thorin at the talks about the division of Erebor's treasure? Why wasn't he taking more interest in the negotiations of alliances that were going on between the three races?
"He's still missing his braid," Nori explained when Dori asked about it one night. "He and Bilbo have spoken plenty of times, but he hasn't offered him the braid yet."
"What does it matter?" Dori asked. "The other dwarves have no idea what happened with the Arkenstone."
"Oh but they do." Nori gave him a look. "The elves love to gossip. Everyone has heard about what happened at the wall by now."
"I admit that the Arkenstone scene was really bad, but still - Thorin fought honourably in the battle," Dori said. "That should be enough to make up for any lapses of judgement he may have had during the gold-fever."
"Not for him." Nori shook his head. He took a careful look around to make sure they weren't being overheard before he leaned closer, lowering his voice. "I don't think Thorin trusts himself after the episode with the Arkenstone. He thinks that he has failed and that he can't be a good king to his people after all he has done."
Dori rolled his eyes.
"He has always been overly dramatic about these things. Why doesn't just explain the whole thing to Bilbo? I'm sure the hobbit will understand. He may even forgive him if Thorin apologises honestly enough."
Nori sighed.
"I think Bilbo has forgiven him already. It's Thorin who needs to forgive himself." Nori grimaced. "He should do it fast, too - if he hesitates for too long, Dáin's supporters will get their way and the crown of the King Under the Mountain will go to Dáin instead. You know that there has been talk of a coronation for at least a week now."
Dori nodded.
"Yes, they are quite puzzled by Thorin's reluctance, especially since he had always clamoured for the restoration of Durin's line on the throne of Erebor. I think someone should talk to him. He can have a personal crisis after he's crowned for all I care, but it wouldn't do for him to go on a quest like this and come out empty handed when he has risked so much for this. It wouldn't be fair to Fíli and Kíli, either. They have a claim on the throne, too."
Nori gave him a side-eye. "Will you talk to him, or should I?"
"I'll do it," Dori said in resignation. "I know that Balin has spoken to him already, but he remains stubbornly uncooperative. Maybe he needs someone to give it to him straight."
"Good luck." Nori clapped him on the shoulder and walked off, probably to search for Ori. Dori mentally braced himself and set off in the direction of Thorin's tent.
He and Thorin had never been very close – they used to be childhood friends back before the dragon came, but had grown apart after Thorin had taken over the throne when Thráin went mad. Dori had never become a part of the court, having his hands full with bringing up Ori after both their parents died, but he had still managed to find ways to keep in touch with Thorin. Even with his busy schedule, Thorin would occasionally come into Dori's shop when he had a free night and they would share a pint or two, chatting about the goings-on in the palace.
Dori had never bought into the whole pomp and ceremony that came with the royal title, treating Thorin like anybody else, and he knew that it was one of the reasons why Thorin enjoyed his company. Unlike the silver-tongued courtiers, Dori had never had a habit of mincing his words – he told things like they were and had no problem telling Thorin even the things that the king didn't particularly want to hear. The truths were usually harsh and made Thorin angry when he first heard them, but he always thanked Dori for his words later.
As he made his way through the camp, nodding in greeting to a few familiar faces, Dori fervently hoped that this particular talk would go well, too. He would have to choose his words more carefully than usual, but he was fairly sure that he would be able to convince Thorin in the end. Too much was at stake for Thorin to remain undecided.
He was all prepared to just walk inside Thorin's tent and give the dwarf a piece of his mind, but the sound of voices made him pause in his steps. He stopped right outside the tent, peeking in through the gap in the fabric at the two people inside. Thorin was kneeling on the floor again but this time Bilbo was standing in front of him, braiding the dwarf's hair with gentle hands. Thorin's old braid lay on his bed, its bead removed.
Finally, Dori thought with a smile, backing off from the door. Perhaps they were going to have the coronation after all.
He sat down by the fire a few feet away, keeping discreet watch to make sure those two wouldn't get interrupted. Hair braiding was a private affair for dwarves and this one even more so due to its delicate nature. Dori waited for long enough to make sure that the ritual was finished before he stood up, making his way back towards the tent he shared with his brothers.
"How did it go?" Nori asked the moment Dori stepped through the door.
"Thorin has his braid back," Dori said, gratefully taking the bread that Nori had left for him on the table. "And I didn't need to do a thing. It seems that those two have managed to solve the issue on their own."
"It was high time they did," Nori said.
Ori looked up from his writing with a frown.
"What's going on? I heard some dwarves mention Thorin's missing braid today, but I didn't know what they meant. Why is it such an issue?"
Dori and Nori exchanged a look.
"You already know all about dwarven braids as a status symbol, don't you?" Nori began. Ori nodded.
"Good," Nori said. "And do you have any idea what Thorin did when he made that scene on the wall?"
"He threatened Bilbo?" Ori asked tentatively. "Insulted him?"
Nori inclined his head.
"Yes, that too, but there is more to it. You have surely noticed what has been going on between them these past few months."
Ori blushed.
"Thorin has been...courting him? Not very successfully, I would say."
Nori chuckled.
"No, he's frankly terrible at it, but that's beside the point. Thorin has chosen him as his mate. Or, more precisely, Bilbo has been chosen for him."
It took less than three seconds before the meaning registered with Ori, his eyes growing to the size of small saucers.
"He is- Bilbo is his-"
"Yes," Nori nodded. "There are few crimes as terrible as raising one's hand against one's chosen mate. The only thing worse than that would be to slay one's own kin. Thorin may not have killed Bilbo, but what he did was horrifying enough on its own right. If he were anyone else, he would be banished, fever or no. As it is, he lost his honour along with his braid." He exchanged a look with Dori.
"And now it seems that he has regained it back." He shook his head in wonder. "Bilbo is far more forgiving than I would ever be in his place."
"He's very generous," Dori said. "Have you seen the enormous emerald necklace he gave to Thranduil? I thought the elf would wet his pants in excitement when he saw it. The gems he gave to Bard were quite pretty as well. He really doesn't seem to care much for treasure. The Arkenstone has been sitting by his bed for weeks now, but he's barely looked at it."
"Well, that's not so surprising," Nori remarked. "Considering all the grief that the stone has caused him."
"Then it's a good thing that the stone will soon return back where it belongs – on the King's throne," Dori said.
"So there will be a coronation?" Ori asked, starting to look excited. Dori gave him a smile.
"Yes. We are going to have a King Under the Mountain once more."
°O°O°O°
Thorin was crowned King Under the Mountain in the Great Hall of Erebor at Midwinter that year, one month after the battle. The mountain was still empty and desolate, but the hall had been cleared for the ceremony and Thorin stood tall and proud in front of his grandfather's throne with both his heirs by his side. Thrór's old crown had been found in the dragon hoard and the Arkenstone was back in its place above the throne, shining with a soft inner light.
Gandalf had been the one to place the crown on Thorin's head, at the dwarf's insistence. The wizard crowned him with all the solemnity that such an occasion warranted, stepping back with a smile when Thorin rose to his feet and greeted the cheering crowd. There still weren't many dwarves in Erebor, but the men of Dale had come for the ceremony and even some of the elves too, though those did their best to pretend complete disinterest in the entire affair. To everyone's surprise Thranduil was present as well, watching the newly-crowned king with shrewd eyes.
The Companions stood in the front lines, all of them wearing wide grins. After all they had been through together, Thorin's coronation felt like a victory for them all.
There was no feast after the ceremony, because the provisions were still scarce, but the mood was festive and songs could be heard around the hall. Many people came forward to congratulate Thorin on reclaiming Erebor or to swear fealty to him, so the king spent the evening besieged by well-wishers of all races.
Bilbo had been smiling all through the ceremony, but once the coronation was over he became pensive, shifting restlessly in his chair. Dori had planned to ask him about the source of his uneasiness that night, but he got sidetracked by Bofur and forgot about it.
They found out about the source of Bilbo's disquiet soon enough.
"Now we can send messages to our kin and let them know that the mountain is open to all who wish to return," Thorin told them when the Company sat down for lunch the next day. "I will need to send a message to Dís as well – my sister must be mad with impatience by now."
Identical looks of guilt appeared on Fíli and Kíli's faces at that, indicating that they hadn't written to their mother yet, either.
"I tried to persuade one of the ravens to take a letter to the Blue Mountains for me," Kíli said, "but it refused. It said that it's too far away for him to carry."
Thorin frowned.
"Then we will have to find someone willing to deliver the messages. Erebor should be rebuilt as fast as possible, to ensure that our defences hold against any further attacks. I wonder if Dáin would let me borrow one of his men." He frowned. "Or maybe Gandalf would be willing to undertake the journey, if I ask him."
"That won't be necessary," Bilbo said, causing them to all turn toward him.
"What did you say?" Thorin asked, instantly going on alert. Bilbo met his eyes warily.
"I said that it won't be necessary. I will take your messages to the Blue Mountains." He slid his gaze over the others. "If anyone else wants to send a letter home, you can give it to me, too."
"You're leaving?" Kíli asked, sounding betrayed. "Why now? We just got the mountain back."
Bilbo gave him a sad look.
"I cannot stay here. It's all too much – the dragon, the battle, the fever – I need some time to myself."
"But you can have that here," Kíli insisted. "We can leave you alone, if you wish, you only need to ask." He looked like the thought alone made him deeply unhappy, but his offer was still genuine. Bilbo gave him a small smile, obviously touched by the gesture.
"Your presence has never been a bother."
"What is it then?" Fíli asked. "Why won't you stay here?"
The hobbit visibly hesitated before he spoke, sharing the source of his disquiet with great reluctance.
"I'm not completely healed," he admitted quietly. "The fever left a sort of a...residue behind. I may have woken up, but there is still a small part of it in me – a dark shadow of greed and hunger lurking in the corner of my mind, waiting for a chance to surge up and take over." He swallowed. "I am afraid the sight of gold could trigger it to rise up again."
"Gandalf didn't mention anything like this," Balin said with a frown. Bilbo gave him a look.
"He also said that most people don't survive it."
"Is it really so bad?" Bofur asked, clearly concerned. Bilbo sighed.
"I know every single piece of treasure in that hoard," he said with a grimace. "Every coin, every gem – I can tell you where they are and how valuable they are. It might be a great sort of knowledge for a dwarf, but it's driving me mental. I thought it would disappear, but it's still there a month later. I don't think it's going to go away on its own." He gave them a sad look. "I think I need to spend some time in Rivendell, maybe go back to the Shire for a while."
"You want to leave Erebor?" It was obvious that Thorin hadn't heard about this particular idea before and wasn't pleased. The other dwarves exchanged looks, wondering whether they should leave.
"Not permanently," Bilbo hastened to reassure him. "Just for a few months until the sickness is gone completely. It gets a little weaker every day, but it will take weeks for it to leave entirely. The journey will help me clear my mind and give me a chance to put my things back at home in order before I come back to live here."
"You will come back?" Thorin asked, his eyes roaming over Bilbo's face. Bilbo gave him a smile.
"Of course I will come back. I have grown quite fond of the mountain, despite everything that happened here."
Thorin relaxed a little, but still looked unhappy with Bilbo's announcement. The rest of the Company rose from the table.
"We should go and see how the restoration is going," Balin said, not even attempting at subtlety. Thorin didn't look like he even heard him, so they all turned to leave. Most of them rose from their seats at once, but Fíli and Kíli lingered by the table, giving Bilbo identical despondent looks.
"When are you leaving?" Kíli asked the hobbit.
"The day after tomorrow," Bilbo said. "I'm riding out with Thranduil's party. Gandalf has promised to go with me all the way to the Shire, so I should be quite safe."
Kíli's expression was still a little doubtful but Fíli nudged him and they both walked out after Balin, whispering together. The rest of the group followed suit, marching out in a single file.
The last thing Dori saw before he left the room was Thorin stepping towards the hobbit and pulling him into a desperate kiss.
To be continued...
A/N: I have been building this whole concept of dwarvish culture in my mind for a while, but I have no idea how compatible it is with Tolkien's original vision. I will freely admit that most of the things here are completely made up. If anyone's feeling confused about the nature of Thorin's dilemma, don't worry – everything will be explained in Thorin's chapter including his relationship with Bilbo, so you can look forward to that).
Since love is so hard to find for dwarves and so few of them ever marry, I thought it would make sense that they would have very strict rules about domestic violence (or variations thereof). In my mind they would find it deplorable to wilfully hurt something (someone) that is so precious and unattainable for the majority of the population – it would be an insult not only to the person, but to the culture as a whole.
On a lighter note: was someone playing "guess the next dwarf?" while reading this? How successful were you? The next chapter is bit of a surprise (though some of you may have guessed already) and I'm really curious what you will think about it.
The next chapter should be posted on December 26 or 27, depending on how much editing it needs.
Happy Holidays everyone! (Christmas/Yule/whichever one you're celebrating :)