Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit, The Lord of The Rings (both movies and book series), and the characters mentioned. They belong to their rightful owner.
Enjoy! ^_^
Bilbo dreamed of the past.
It was back in Erebor, when the dragon was recently killed. He had an acorn on his hand, thinking of bringing it back with him to Bag End and to plant it in his garden. He was studying it when hurried footsteps came nearer.
"What is that?" It was Thorin, immediately walking to him. "In your hand?"
Bilbo instantly sat up. "It… It's nothing," he said hesitantly.
Thorin wasn't convinced. "Show me."
Oh, alright, Bilbo thought. He held out his hand and showed the acorn. "I picked it up. In Beorn's garden," he explained.
Blue eyes softened significantly, eyeing the acorn, and then Bilbo whom his gaze lingered. "You carried it all this way," he stated simply.
"I'm going to plant it in my garden," the hobbit said. "In Bag End."
Thorin couldn't help but smile. "It's a poor price to take back to the Shire."
Bilbo shrugged. "One day, it will grow," he pointed out. "And every time I look at it, I'll remember. Remember everything that happened—the good, the bad… and how lucky I am that I made it home." He managed a weak smile.
Thorin didn't comment further, but he gave a fond smirk, very satisfied with the answer.
Bilbo's smile went confident, but it was abrupt for he remembered of an important matter to say. "Thorin," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I…"
Bilbo woke past luncheon, feeling very drained despite coming from sleep recently.
The ring remained at the nightstand, settled there innocently. Bilbo looked at it for a moment, thinking back on the previous events. It seemed surreal. He expected a dreamless sleep to follow—heck, he wasn't expecting himself to fall asleep even. Crying must have made him tired somewhat.
He lamented for himself, his supposedly doom by the hands of Thorin himself. Of course, he was aware that wasn't the Thorin who was his friend. But to think of the possibility of Thorin turning that way if he had lived, he couldn't help but shudder at the chilling thought.
And he wouldn't start in regards to the poison.
He closed his eyes, swallowing. Taking a last glance at the ring, he felt a slight pull towards it.
Of course, you liked that, he thought ruefully.
Bilbo chose to ignore it this time, resolved in catching up on elevenses and luncheon.
He busied himself for the whole day, and the next day, and the next. He would stay longer at his garden, weeding the soil and watering the greens more than once a day. He would offer assistance from time to time to a neighbor or two at high noon until the afternoon, or dusk if he could have it. During evenings, he would linger outdoors for another hour—blowing smoke rings, and staring at the night sky, looking for nothing in particular.
He would do anything to keep off some things from his mind. And more importantly, away from the ring.
He couldn't deny the insistent tugging it was doing to him though.
It was another night time when he sighed, resisting it no more.
I am a really weak hobbit.
"You are back," the voice said, as if expecting Bilbo.
"I am," the hobbit said. "Despite what happened."
"It didn't turn out well." The voice seemed amused by this. "Disastrous, I might say."
"You know what will happen then," Bilbo pointed. "You knew I will die in that world."
"Oh no, my dear Bilbo. I know very well what lies in that place. But the consequences are solely yours to bear for you shape them yourself with your decisions," the voice said, excluding himself of the blame.
"Right. Of course," Bilbo said drily. "I am to blame then if Thorin wanted to kill me."
The voice laughed. "A mad one, sadly. It's a wonder how he deserved such devotion from you." The voice paused, considering a thought. "You want him alive, but that would mean him being not himself should he survive—a Thorin of sound mind then? Though I might say his illness and his life are... inseparable, don't you think?"
Bilbo decided not to answer the mocking voice.
"It matters not, as such is within my capabilities. It will be your second world to travel to."
"Actually, I'm…" he began, and paused for a while. "Well, I want to refuse that and the other one," Bilbo said finally. "I don't think I'm up for another of that situation." He raked his hand on his curls. "It's what I've been meaning to say."
There was a deafening silence that followed. Bilbo would have thought the voice vanished, offended, and left him there alone.
"I see. You are not satisfied," the voice told him simply. "Very well, that can be arranged."
Bilbo frowned. "What do—"
In return, he found himself swallowed by the blinding darkness.
Bilbo mentally cursed before opening his eyes.
That damned voice didn't listen! He groaned in frustration. Here we go again. He dared open his eyes and took his surroundings.
Unsurprisingly, he was in Erebor, for the second time around; although now he was at the entrance of it. He was not aware of the heavy pack he was carrying on his back until he stepped forward.
He was traveling then, judging the situation. Traveling from Hobbiton to Erebor, he deduced.
Before he could wonder what to do next, standing there at the gates of the castle awkwardly, loud shouts of his name came forward. And with those came rushing twelve dwarves of Thorin Oakenshield's company.
With the uncontrolled momentum, some had toppled over him, the hobbit being squashed by the largest of them all—Bombur. On top of Bombur were Bofur, Ori, and then the brothers Kili and Fili. Bilbo found himself having difficulty in breathing, air almost leaving his body. He would become a nicely squashed hobbit indeed!
There were hearty laughs that rang. Mostly from those who wasn't part of the pile. Bilbo saw Balin crouching by them; Dwalin not standing afar from his brother, shaking his head in amusement. Glóin and Óin, with his trumpet, were taking merry at the situation. Bifur fondly chiding those on top of Bilbo, and was laughing on his own. Dori and Nori were tasking himself on pulling Bilbo from underneath, commenting that Bilbo would be as good as flattened any second later.
"Thank you very much for that," Bilbo said, rolling his eyes as he stretched, dusting his clothes. As much as he would like to be irritated, seeing everybody's fond smile made his heart ache. His last parting with them after the battle was tearful, and three of the company was missing then. But now, they were here, in front of him, Kili and Fili even. It was only Thorin who was missing.
"You gave Master Baggins quite a welcome," a voice said from behind the dwarves. The group parted to let their king came through. "My apologies for not being with them, immediate affairs will not look out for themselves."
Bilbo held his breath upon seeing Thorin again. He tried not to remember his last encounter with the other Thorin. This is a different Thorin, he reminded himself. Although how different, I don't know.
"Thorin." Bilbo caught himself when he took notice of the crown the dwarf was wearing. "King Thorin."
The king's brows drew closer to a slight frown before rushing to the hobbit forward, gathering him against his body. Bilbo was somehow taken aback when pulled to a tight hug.
"You came," Thorin said to him. "I wasn't expecting that you would." He held Bilbo's smaller shoulders. "You are from miles away, and yet here you are." Blue eyes gratefully met Bilbo's. "Thank you."
Oh, this Thorin feels quite not like the other, Bilbo thought. His fear had ebbed away seeing naught any discomfort or displeasure from the company. Any trace of madness seemed gone from Thorin, but instead replaced by warmth of a dwarf who was complete of himself, as Bilbo had pieced out. The ring spoke true, he decided, but held it, setting aside his judgment about that for a while.
He smiled hesitantly, looking down in embarrassment at the attention he was getting, not to mention the exchange he had with the king. He coughed a bit. "It's no matter," he replied unsurely. "Journey wasn't as perilous as before." He hoped that he had met each and every one through the journey; else, he would have to explain more (but honestly, he could think of another circumstances where he could happen to know thirteen bunch of dwarves). "And it has been a while since I've seen you all." The last statement was said truthfully.
"It's no matter, he says. But last I heard Shire is not as near as Dale," Kili said, giving Bilbo a light jab. "Aye, I'd say our Burglar here rushed the very moment he received the invitation."
"Too eager to travel that you'd ride a dragon to fly you here?" Fili teased with his brother. Kili snickered at that. At the sidelines, Thorin gave a reprimanding look, but didn't comment.
"You've missed us dearly, didn't you, Bilbo?" Bofur asked. Bilbo turned red for Bofur wasn't really wrong. "You know you could have lived with us here instead. No hassle of journey," Bofur reminded.
"I do have a garden to tend to," Bilbo retorted. "They will not be as glorious as they are now if not for my attention."
"Do they come on par with the elves' garden now that they couldn't be left?" Glóin remarked. Bilbo raised an eyebrow when he recognized the compliment the dwarf made, related to elves no less. He thought he must have heard it wrong, for it came from one of the dwarves of the company who strongly shows animosity towards the elves.
Weird. Bilbo wondered if it would be one of the things that would be different in the world he was currently in.
"Alright, let us not tease him any further," Balin announced. "It is good of Master Baggins to join us for tomorrow's festivity."
"Festivity?" Bilbo asked before catching himself. "I wasn't aware." It might have been included in the letter they supposedly sent to him.
"It is alright, King Thorin himself asked not to mention it in the letter," Balin said, nodding to the king for consent. Thorin gave him one. "It will be King Thorin's wedding tomorrow's evening. And you are cordially invited."
"Pardon?"
Balin and the king exchanged knowing looks. Thorin who wasn't speaking for a while came forward, facing Bilbo again. "I told Balin you wouldn't believe it. What more in a written letter?" His eyes lowered gently. "But yes, I have decided to take your advice. You are right, Master Baggins; I shouldn't have dallied any longer. And what joy it gave me," Thorin said softly. "And I thank you again, for giving me the courage and the push I needed to the right direction."
Bilbo digested the words. Thorin would be married, by his advice even. His counterpart in this world seemed masochistic enough to send the one he was holding dearly to pursue another. Really. "That's, that's great!" he forced to say. "Congratulations!" He almost heard the shriek he made. "Finally." He wanted to pinch his own skin for sprouting words he wasn't even sure of. He didn't even know who Thorin was betrothed.
He wondered if it was a female dwarf of royalty, of some dwarf clan perhaps. She was probably somebody he had meet years before the start of their journey in reclaiming Erebor, whom Thorin never mentioned having feelings for. Thorin never talked of any of his private life anyway. Was she even somebody from the real world as well? She could be somebody Thorin had come to know in this world and discovered an interest for after the battle, perhaps the little time before Bilbo's return to Hobbiton. Besides, so short a time could make anybody know of love. Dwarves were known to have their One, and she might be Thorin's. Bilbo wouldn't know.
He could imagine the most perfect partner for Thorin—a dwarrowdam of steadfastness, courage, and incomparable beauty. Somebody who could match his stubbornness and pride, pulling him up from his darkest of moments. The most Thorin could trust with his life.
"At the rate of longing stares the uncle and the Elvenking give each other, I'm not surprised," Kili muttered under his breath. Fili sniggered.
That seemed to earn a slight blush from the king.
Bilbo stopped.
Thorin and the Elvenking.
Huh?
If he was hearing right that would mean…
"Aye, aye, laddies," Balin interrupted the two princes good-naturedly. He turned to Bilbo. "You are officially invited to the wedding of King Thorin of Erebor, and King Thranduil of the Greenwood Realm."
Bilbo looked between Balin and Thorin, vice versa. He dared to spare a look even to the others. He expected guffaws from the brothers, anticipating a good joke.
There was none.
He realized it was for real.
The hobbit didn't know whether to laugh or… I don't know. A dwarf and an elf, to be married, and by the looks of it not even arranged out of their choice. Bilbo tried to register it—and it was hard to. He wasn't even talking about some random dwarf and an elf here. It was Thorin and King Thranduil! The very same King Under the Mountain and the Elvenking who both possess all the enmity of their respective races towards each other. Bilbo's head couldn't help but go dizzy processing everything.
And for twice in that world, he found himself meeting the floor ungracefully—again.
Bilbo could feel the soft bed against his back. He would think he was back in Bag End, somehow able to go back. But then there were the hushed low voices he could hear near him.
"You shouldn't have done that to him," there was a voice reprimanding, but not loud to the ears. It sounded like Óin. Miraculously, he could actually speak at that volume.
"We're sorry," another to Bilbo's left said. He knew it was Bofur.
"He does look pale," a different voice commented. Fili? "The journey from then to here was indeed tiring." Bilbo was sure it was Fili.
"But I don't think that's the reason why he lost consciousness," Kili, Bilbo recognized. "Maybe it's uncle's marriage to King Thranduil?"
That made Bilbo went wide awake. Right. He almost forgot about that.
Óin's exasperated sigh came. "I told you to pipe down your voices. Now you had awakened him." He edged closer to Bilbo, shaking his head at them. "How are you feeling, Master Baggins?"
Bilbo sat up. "Fine." His throat was dry when he spoke. "Water." He was promptly given one. He finished the whole glass and asked for more. "How long was I out?"
Bofur answered, "Only for two hours. Rest up! We can have you brought food if you'd like."
That seemed a good idea. "Thank you," Bilbo said. "I might have overestimated my exhaustion."
Óin nodded. "You did. We're all worried. The others went to their respective duties for the mean time, but they plan to visit if ever you are up to receiving them. King Thorin, even."
"They don't need to bother if they're busy," the hobbit assured. "I understand anyway."
Kili and Fili pushed against Bilbo's either sides. "Of course they'll have time for you," they younger one said.
"Uncle, most of all," Fili said, smiling. "You're part of the family."
"Speaking of which, Amad will be coming," Kili said excitedly. "You'll like her."
Of that, Bilbo had no doubt he would. He might have met the Lady Dís, albeit on a different world. But he believed she wouldn't be any different here than there. At least, there appeared to be no more cause of distress for her. She would see her sons safe and happy under her brother's care. It made Bilbo glad for her.
"I'm sure I will," Bilbo said. "And she would see the rascals the two of you became."
Bofur snorted. "You wouldn't expect they're Lady Dís's sons especially the way they behave."
"Hey, speak for yourself," Fili protested. "As if you don't do pranks with us!"
"That was once!"
"Oh yeah? Same thing!"
"Quiet, you three!" Óin hissed at them. "You have no shame for Master Baggins resting here." That seemed to stop the trio.
At their mutters of apologies, Bilbo couldn't resist chuckling. "It's alright, you know." It's not like I see this moment often, he thought sadly. "But, yes, I'd like to catch on some sleep before I eat." Putting food second to priorities was rarely heard of for a hobbit.
"You here that lads? Out with you," the healer barked. The three dwarves followed, but not before bidding Bilbo their temporary goodbyes and 'see you later'.
"I will be fine now, I think," Bilbo said. "Thank you, Óin."
"My pleasure, Master Baggins," the dwarf replied sincerely. "It is seldom you grace us with your presence." He patted the hobbit's knee. "Bofur is right. The king's offer of residence still stands, and we'd very much like it for you to live with us here in Erebor." He added, "Although the soil will need a harder tilling, I'm afraid."
Bilbo grinned. "I know. That's why I refused in the first place," he replied in jest. "But I'll think about it. It's a small thing to pay after all in seeing Kili and Fili slowly ruining the palace with their… fun activities."
"And you'd think they should be matured enough by now," Óin grumbled. "Fili, especially. Although I don't blame them. It is refreshing to see them lively. The battle took a toll on every one of us. Those two are some of the few who still has their youth innocence with them."
Seeing Kili and Fili being lively again is one of my greatest wish too. "You're right. To see us all alive and well, and with you reclaiming your home. I'd ask for nothing more."
"You are very kind, Master Baggins. For you to journey all that way for us, hazardous as it was. Just to see send us home. Aye, we'll never forget what you did."
Bilbo was left alone after several minutes. It was his room, as he had gathered, where he was in. Óin believed he would be better settled in his own chambers instead of the infirmary; it was a slight fatigue only as he was told.
His private quarters were not as large as the one he had before. This was smaller, but not lacking in furniture despite not being a permanent room of his. If anything, it resembled his room at Bag End. Small, but spacious for him to move around. Perfect.
He found no diary under the pillows this time, nor inside the pack he had carried which was situated on a corner. It contained mostly of supplies for the trip he had, and a box of spices and a jar of Old Toby even. He had a pipe at least.
Without a personal record of the events, he wouldn't be able to get the information in connection to the version of him in this world, and in the happenings that had transpired in the earlier timeline. It might give him a clue as to the unexplainable intimate relationship between Thorin and the Elvenking that seemed to exist here.
That or he could ask Thorin himself.
Bilbo decided that to be his last resort.
His eyes wandered to the ring he was wearing. It was there again, as usual. And he could remove it as he pleased and send himself away of this world, ridding himself of the mystery he somehow had the urge to know. But so far, nothing called for him to do so. Putting aside the fact that there happened to be no bad blood between the elves and the dwarves—like the one he had known—the place seemed fairly normal. No internal conflicts within the dwarves of the company here, or any mention of outsider's displeasure to King Thorin's ruling, meaning he wasn't labeled a mad king here. Thorin was healthy of mind, free of illness.
And he seemed… happy.
Then what reason is there to leave? Bilbo asked himself. He found it ridiculous that he would even decline the offer of the ring to him.
"Master Baggins?"
Bilbo turned from the window that overlooked a different view. He found the king by the doorway. The hobbit immediately straightened at the visitor.
"You are up. Óin said that you'll be resting," Thorin said as he closed the door, coming nearer. "I was expecting you to be asleep, but decided to check up on you otherwise."
"It's fine. I can't get back to sleep anyway." Bilbo gestured for a seat in which the dwarf declined.
"How are you faring?" The king asked.
"Way better now. I must have exerted myself, but nothing serious as they told me. Which a good luncheon can remedy, I suppose," was Bilbo's answer.
"That, I'm not surprised," Thorin said, smiling. "You never changed."
"You know me, Thorin." Bilbo paused. "I mean, King Thorin."
"That was twice you called me king," the dwarf pointed out. "I told you to call me Thorin. That's what I am to my friends and kin," he reminded.
"And that's Bilbo to you," the hobbit retorted. It was followed by an amused agreement from the king. A short silence passed before Bilbo spoke again. "You'll be married, tomorrow." He bit his cheek. "That is the last thing I expected before coming here," he said softly, barely audible, but not unheard.
"Will you believe that I don't either? But as you said, I am not getting younger, nor am I an immortal like Thranduil. He could wait for me for another millennia, but I couldn't do the same for him. It was what made me make up my mind. Nothing will happen if I didn't take courage in making a move. And the three years that passed were fruitful. What happiness I found after the challenges and hardships I endured," Thorin said, bliss visible in his words. "Sometimes I would think if I dreamt those that had come to pass, and then find myself the same young prince back then, a naïve and inexperienced one, before the dragon came. But if that is so, then I'd gladly face Smaug once again just so I can fulfill my destiny and arrive to the end of it all."
Bilbo was now definitely sure the Thorin he was with was a total contrast of the one he encountered before this. Today, he was with a Thorin who spoke of love, not for riches or the Arkenstone, but for another he has in his heart. This was a dwarf king who was a survivor of war and dragon fire, and in the end saw that was good behind those. He, who had conquered the darkness of his own self, and emerging victorious to see the fruits of his years of labor.
"You truly love him," Bilbo stated simply. Thorin looked away bashfully.
"Aye, although at first, I had thought that what I was feeling was immense gratitude, for his rescue of us in Erebor, of those he could still save, and for not turning away when we needed aid the most. Most of the dwarves then began their journey to Ered Luin after recovering for a while from the attack. But there were those who were too old to travel, and there were plenty. I did not abandon them, and remained there until their peaceful passing. It was good of the Elvenking to let us stay, and gave those who had died in the incident and of natural cause the dwarven burial they deserved. I admired him since then, serving as my role model when it comes to leading my people. It was respect he had for us despite the grievances our ancestors had caused their kind. King Thranduil did not turn a blind eye, saying it was a matter of the past, and what was important was the present. We could never turn back the time to make it better, but we could start with what we had that day for a much better future between our races."
Thorin paused, a smile gracing his lips as he recalled a fond memory. "I remembered crying in front of him after the battle where I lost most of my family—my brother, father, and grandfather—and the other dwarves who were taken from their loved ones. Thranduil had seen me at my most vulnerable, not in the midst of violence, but by the end of it. I couldn't bear the amount of loss, and I didn't think I deserved to be the leader of those remaining. I admitted that I was weak, young and would not do well to lead my people. The Elvenking comforted me, letting me grieve. That I couldn't have avoided the deaths for they were always part of battles, and told me that I was anything but weak and by showing my tears proved that to him. I knew that I love him right there and then."
Bilbo could do nothing but stare only at those blue eyes filled with awe and reverence. The emotion swirling at those orbs was caused by the variety of the circumstances this world has. There was no hatred that was existing in between the dwarves and the elves, and so the relationship between their present kings was born. It was a peaceful notion—two kingdoms of different race would be joined as one, but at the same time independent of their own. The future generation would surely benefit at the stronghold of the north should another evil came down upon them.
It was the most perfect of set up—both parties to be conjugated out of love, ensuring a lasting truce.
As if I would go between that.
"I am glad that you found your own happiness." Truly, I am. "You deserve it, Thorin. The both of you." Bilbo didn't want to think more of how the words seemed like ash on his tongue.
"Thank you," Thorin said, every bit grateful. "I wouldn't be here if not for your help as well. For acting on the right thing, putting away the Arkenstone from me and giving it to Thranduil. You knew he was the only one my mind would recognize as I was trapped in the muddled consciousness I conjured myself. And you were right." The king gazed at him meaningfully. "Any later, I would have been beyond saving."
I had accepted defeat long before, Bilbo realized glumly. It was not returned since then, and never will be.
"I had forgotten to commend on your fast thinking," Thorin told him. "That was one of the reason I am glad to be your friend, Bilbo."
Bilbo couldn't help but lose some of his optimism.
The supper was a merry affair.
The thirteen dwarves and the hobbit of Thorin Oakenshield's company were around a long table, sharing a hearty meal amongst each other. Despite being known a large eater due to his kind, Bilbo was overwhelmed at the amount of food that kept flowing from the kitchen and to the table. It was enough to last him for two days, and he would thought it was a feast already.
If only he had the appetite he usually has. He found himself setting only for whole roasted chicken, baked potatoes, a steamed fish, and five servings of buttered rice. There were also three apples dipped in caramel he intended for his dessert. Large for others perhaps, but somewhat small for a hobbit.
Don't be selfish, Bilbo! You're a proper hobbit, he rebuked himself. Do not ruin it for them by being gloomy!
He remembered how the dwarves had dined in Bag End before, how his pantry was raided. He had been out of himself for having guests who didn't observe proper decorum, and he'd rather they never come back again. He promised never to receive the dwarves of Thorin Oakenshield's company—any dwarf for that matter. But after his return from the journey, he was looking forward to have them again, complete. Bilbo would not mind their manners; he would not care if they dulled the knives and forks, or if they break a plate or two. Those were replaceable.
What he would give to have thirteen dwarves and a wizard to knock on his door at Bag End!
"You are spacing out," Bofur observed. He was seated on Bilbo's left. His voice was a whisper amidst the loud cheers the others were making. There were bets as to how many puddings could be stuffed inside Bombur's mouth.
"I recalled something of some years ago," Bilbo's answered, clipped. "All of you and Gandalf."
Bofur had a puzzled expression. "Gandalf? You mean Gandalf the Grey?" he muttered the name repeatedly, as if trying the name.
"Yes," the hobbit replied unsurely. "You don't know him?"
"I've heard of him. A traveling wizard, isn't he?" Bofur asked, "What about him and the company?"
Oh. It dawned to Bilbo that they never met a wizard, nor accompanied by Gandalf throughout the journey. That's odd. But now that I think about it, there was no mention of him either in that other place.
"Gandalf makes the best fireworks."
"And?"
Bilbo shook his head. "As I said, something I merely recalled together. The fauntlings in Hobbiton love it when he lights some."
Bofur nodded in understanding, although somewhat not satisfied. "You are thinking of something else," he observed further. "You are frowning a lot since coming here. As if you're trying to figure everything."
That might be the best way to describe it. "It looks like I do, huh," Bilbo half agreed, half denying.
"Pensive," Fili offered from behind Bofur. "That, you are."
Bilbo looked away. "Not aware."
"Is it because uncle will be marrying?"
Yes. "Of course not." Bilbo coughed. "I mean, sure, it did shock me a bit. But it isn't the reason, no." Any more of 'I'm happy for him anyway' and I will smack myself.
"Ah, I think I know." A spark of recognition seemed to light on his eyes. "You are thinking of settling down yourself."
"What? No! What gives you that idea?!"
The blonde dwarf shrugged. "Well, seeing that tonight is uncle's last night as a bachelor, you might be considering, I dunno, making a family of your own? You did say you're at the right age for an adult hobbit anyway."
Kili piped in. Bilbo wasn't sure how long he had been listening. "Oh, will you be having plenty of hobbitlings? I bet they'll be cute!"
"It's 'fauntlings', not 'hobbitlings'," Bilbo corrected exasperatedly. "And no, I'm not planning on settling down," he emphasized. "I'm determined to live as a bachelor for the rest of my hobbit life."
The brothers and Bofur exchanged looks.
"That's a rather sad plan, don't you think?" Bofur commented.
What choice do I have? Bilbo thought harshly. "Not everyone living alone is lonely." He was lying but as if they would find out anyway. "And I'd have the house all by myself all the time."
"That's a depressing way to look at it," Kili said. "No hobbitlings around Bag End."
Bilbo sighed, deciding not to correct him.
There were songs played after the supper, once the table was cleared of the dishes and everybody was too stuffed to eat anymore. The music was an assortment of tavern dwarf songs, of nursery songs even, and anything that was jovial to the ears really. It lifted Bilbo's mood somewhat, liking the rhymes and melody. He wasn't exactly a musical hobbit, but there was a livelier aspect in dwarven music than those of elven ones. He preferred the former for that.
Once the instruments died down, Balin's voice could be heard by those present. "Well, King Thorin, we wish you the happiest evening of your life tomorrow. Before then, rest assured that we will take care of the preparation. You need not worry to other matters too, and I advise a no-paperwork day for you." The royal adviser sent a wink. "Those things can be arranged for the mean time."
"I have sent in advanced the patrol to oversee the traveling of elves from Greenwood to Erebor. The elves are expected to arrive by dawn," Dwalin informed the king. "This morning, some were sent to Dale as well, for the men going here, even the short distance. We could never be outdoing security, as that is the most and foremost."
King Thorin gratefully nodded Dwalin's way. "You are right. Thank you, Dwalin, Balin."
He addressed the remaining dwarves. "I am glad to share a pleasant evening with you all. For all that we had faced together, and earned for ourselves, I can only say that we wouldn't be here if not because of those. There are more to witness, and experience. I hope to be by your side and you with me as we continue our lives here in our home. Preferably at peace. But should disaster arrive—something I dare not to happen again, but not improbable—I'd rather have you all fight with me, those who answer when called upon." King Thorin's eyes regarded each faces. "I will be giving my half to another who is my equal, but never think that King Thorin and Thorin Oakenshield will halve his duty to you and to his people. A piece of me will be parted to my husband but my whole belongs to you first—as your king and as your friend most."
The proud voice of the king rang at the dining hall, the attention of those present solely to the dwarf at the head of the table. Balin was the first to clap at the wondrous speech, followed by everybody.
"But," Thorin began, halting the applause. "I must say that I am not yet prepared for my own wedding." He paused, faltering a little. "I have not decided yet as for the wedding band I am to give."
This was followed by series of gasps among the company. Balin had his jaw slacked. "That couldn't be, Your Highness! That is the most important—second most important, next to the vow itself." There was a reprimanding intonation. "I thought you said you have it?"
"Aye, I thought I finally did," Thorin admitted sheepishly. It was comical, in Bilbo's point of view, to see the king scolded like a child by Balin. "But I am confused still as to what metal to work on."
"A metal?" Balin seemed aghast. "You couldn't… Oh, Thorin." He must have forgotten to bother with the title. "It will have to be ready immediately. It is not easy to smith a ring hours before the wedding. Would you have the Elvenking's finger burned at the heat of the ring?"
Thorin shook his head vehemently.
"And having none is not an option either," the advisor reminded.
"As I said, it is the material that I can't decide as to what," the king tried again. "Gold signifies him, silver defines him, and platinum fits him too. How can I bind those together that reminds me of him the most?"
That earned a silence from Balin.
"Does it have to be something that best describe him?" Bilbo asked from the sidelines. It was supposed to be a question for himself, but he had uttered it aloud, enough for them to hear. "Ah, sorry, I mean." He shifted in his seat, ignoring their curious glances. "It will be the Elvenking who will wear it, right? Why not be it something that best remind him of its giver?" He shrugged. "That way, he'd have a piece of you with him wherever or whenever," he added, as if an afterthought.
There were murmurs of approval. Bilbo did not risk look up to Thorin. But when he finally did, he found a thoughtful look gracing the king's face.
"It's an excellent idea," Thorin admitted to him, to which the hobbit ducked his head shyly. "I know what I must do now. I thank you for the thought, Master Baggins." And with that, Thorin excused himself from the hall, leaving the dwarves and Bilbo to themselves.
"It is a fine suggestion indeed, lad," Balin said. "He rarely considers other's opinions readily, and I must say it is a first to have him rushing out like that." He lifted a mug of ale, offering a toast. "To King Thorin and King Thranduil. And, of course, to the ring." Chuckles could be heard.
Bilbo toasted with his own drink. He closed his eyes slowly and berated himself in the process.
Will you look at that? I really do well when it comes to tormenting myself!
He wasn't given the chance to appreciate the night sky of Erebor previously, but now that he could, he was mesmerized. He was able to smoke his pipe at the balcony alone, enjoying the silence aside from the occasional howling of the wind. It must have been for that purpose that he brought some Old Toby with him. No dwarven pipe weed could compare to Shire's finest.
He made random smoke rings, making the next one he made enter the previous that hadn't yet dissipated. There were odd shaped smokes he could muster, and practice the one that resembled a ship. He was trying small land animals next, and his best representation of white pigeons. It wasn't long though when his ears twitched at the careful footsteps behind him.
"I didn't know you are still awake," Kili said, sitting beside Bilbo when he edged to give space.
"A good time for some pipe," Bilbo said. "Have you brought yours?"
The dwarf grinned and showed his. The hobbit promptly shared some of his Old Toby. Kili savored the taste it left on his tongue. "Still superb."
Bilbo tilted his head in agreement. "So why are you still up? And without Fili, even." He believed he never encountered Kili alone like this—Fili would be nearby if ever. Except for that situation in the previous place we went.
The brunet snorted. "His snoring is what I couldn't stand."
"You share a room?"
"I'm kidding, of course. Our rooms are next to each other though, and it wasn't as if I haven't experienced being kept late at night with his snoring."
Given that the castle's walls were made of solid stone, Fili's snores must be something. And to think Kili was what he expected to be a loud sleeper. Wonders never cease with these dwarves.
"I've been pondering on something," Kili said finally. He was urged to continue. "I was thinking how lucky uncle is. With him being betrothed to his elf," he muttered lowly, his gaze with a semblance of sorrow. "And here I am, feeling envious for not having mine with me."
Bilbo's breath was caught in his throat. "What do you mean?" With the current relationship of dwarves and elves, Kili and Tauriel should be… Oh, no. What now?
"Of course, you don't know," Kili said softly. "There was a captain of the guards of King Thranduil. She had a red hair that shone under the sun, and glows at the rays of starlight she was so fond of. A warrior, she was. I admired her." He smiled sadly. "Her name was Tauriel."
Was. Kili is referring to her in past tense, Bilbo realized. And he understood clearly what that meant. "I am sorry, for your loss."
"I had come into terms of it, or so I what I want to believe." The dwarf prince shook his head. "I had known her only briefly, you know? The short time we stayed at Greenwood during our journey. I was attracted to her spirit, of her grace and sure footing." Kili smiled wryly. "She followed us to the Ravenhill, and there fought with me against Bolg. We were both heavily injured, and me being of the gravest condition." His eyes went downcast. "I do not deserve the life she had given up for me, sacrificing the last of her strength to have me survive." He exhaled sharply.
"Don't say that," Bilbo said, swallowing thickly. "She would not like to hear that from you."
"Aye, you're right." Kili turned to him, but not looking. "That's why I never showed my grief so openly. I didn't turn away from my friends' and family's comfort. I distracted myself just so the heartache will not eat me. I live, because that's what she would like for me to. And to show that I do not wish to waste her efforts in saving me."
Bilbo offered a shoulder to lean on. "That's probably what she prefers best."
"I feel selfish, Bilbo, whenever I think that I could never be as happy and complete again. I miss her, terribly. And times like this is when I rue being of the same maker, where I know that in my afterlife, there would be no Tauriel for me to see."
Hearing the choked sobs of Kili, Bilbo couldn't help but think that there would always be some things he couldn't avoid, no matter how situation might have changed. He had hoped for the happiness of those he who were important, and most of them have it, but not without an exchange. Such as this. He took a deep breath. The pipe was set aside, long forgotten.
The world could never be perfect in spite of everything.
Bilbo checked himself in front of the mirror. He liked the contrast of the white dress shirt with the pale gold waistcoat he was given earlier, as he brought no change of attire appropriate for a wedding. It was finely tailored that matched his measurements well—no tight area around the belly or at the chest. The fabric was not scratchy on his skin and no stiff collars even if freshly made. The buttons resembled the brass buttons he lost at the goblin cave before, but were instead made of gold. The green velvet breeches had fitted him in the right way as well, the colors complimenting his upper clothes.
He was ready to go, but not without securing the pouch in which his gift was contained. It was small, actually, no bigger than the one which had the spices. It was a humble gift, but he could think of no other to give to two kings. He knew they could get anything with their wealth. Why not go for a present with sentimental value? And at least it would not be intended to be hid away to gather dusts. Although he hoped Greenwood had not gotten one yet.
Elves of Greenwood had arrived earlier as Bilbo had caught sight of them at the balcony. King Thranduil was received by King Thorin and Balin, and the princes. He noted the selected party the Elvenking had taken with him, but not far were the non-warriors who carried instruments instead of bows and swords. There were few words exchanged between the kings, but Bilbo was sure it was merely for formalities sake. He noted how Thorin's shoulders sagged down in relief at seeing his beloved safe. The hobbit had to turn his eyes away from the scene.
When looked back down, King Thranduil was being escorted inside by the castle's attendants and a few of his guards. Bilbo wondered where the elf prince might be (he had seen him briefly before, if he was not mistaken), seeing as Legolas (that's his name, isn't it?) was not present in the Elvenking's company. If his captain was still around, Bilbo was sure he would find her also not far from the king. Unfortunately, it would never be the case.
Lady Dís arrived with Lord Dain II Ironfoot of Iron Hills. The lady was as striking as he had read from his own description of her. She did has a beard and hair as dark as Thorin's. Bilbo could see most of Kili's features in her, and he guessed Fili was more of their father's. Lady Dís received an embrace from his brother, and was welcomed with fond kisses on the cheek by her own sons. The brothers escorted her in themselves, leaving Lord Dain with King Thorin.
A few more guests had come, mostly of dwarves of different kinds, aside from those Lord Dain had brought with him. There were elves also, and Bilbo wondered if the elves of Rivendell and Lord Elrond himself would arrive. The men of Dale had turned up by sunset; with them were King Bard of Dale and his children, although only one of the three was left to be considered a child—two were already young adults of their own.
The castle was filled with lights at the first touch of evening, bathing the place in a soft golden glow. The hall was set up elegantly, akin to the style of elves more than to the common theme of dwarves. Although the heavy drapes used were accentuated with studded gems that glittered with the minor decorations such as the candlesticks that were made in bronze. Tables and chairs were proportionately made to accommodate both the dwarves' and elves and men's stature. The centerpieces were wrought in twisted, thin branches, which consisted of ripe fruits and freshly picked flowers, their scent mixing nicely. Bilbo would have to commend the arrangement of the dwarves. For a race known with rough hands, they knew how to please the senses with their creation outside of their own craft.
The event began with the light fluttering of harp strings, weaving a pattern of melody in which dwarven chords mingled with, producing a wonderful fusion of elven and dwarven rhythm. The guests went on their respective seats. Kili and Fili stood with their mother nearest to were King Thorin was waiting by the altar. Not far from them was Lord Dain, being a cousin of Thorin, and Balin. At the other side were three of the Greenwood elves Bilbo recalled seeing earlier with the Elvenking, presumably of nothing short than advisors, and King Bard in his raiment of velvet robes and platinum diadem. Bilbo was told that King Bard of Dale was the one chosen to preside at the wedding of the two kings, as there was no position higher than those, but an equal of ranking instead.
King Bard began walking to the highest of steps, stopping at the center when the musicians stroke a different set of notes and a slow tone filled the air, hushing the noises. At the far end of the aisle came a tall elf in flowing attire of white silver; his hair loosened straight without the usual crown the Elvenking wore, but replaced with wreath of flowers and red leaves. It didn't make him look any less of a king though. Plenty of those present had realized that the stories of elves' fairness lived up to their expectation—if not more, especially when seen by one's own eyes.
King Bard gave the mandatory introduction once he had King Thorin and King Thranduil together in front of him. He asked for a hand of each to be given. A white strip of fabric was laid on top of their hands, without being bounded by a knot.
"May this signify the purest of binding and of loyalty that could never be stained," he said. "And in here, witnessed by the Valar, is the joining of King Thorin of Erebor and King Thranduil of Greenwood the Great."
Thorin took it as his signal. "I, Thorin Oakenshield, dedicate my heart as your shelter, and my arms your home. You have helped me triumphed over challenges presented, and made me become who I am today. I pledge to always admire your strength, and your kind, determined heart." He suddenly grinned charmingly at Thranduil. "I promise to lessen the curse words whenever you're around." That earned him a slight raise of eyebrow from the Elvenking, the corners of his mouth twitching to a smile. "I vow to make you laugh out aloud, although I am not much of a jester myself." Balin chuckled at this. "I promise not to call your elk a moose again." It made Thranduil smile fully. "And I will definitely never call your eyebrows funny anymore. Just so you know it's your best feature to me." It wasn't only Balin who was laughing now. Thranduil rolled his eyes, but not wiping his knowing smirk.
Thorin produced a ring of tungsten. "This ring I give you what symbolizes me and my love for you the most—it endured, like me, and was born anew despite the scratches it sustained. As I am stubborn and strong as this metal, so is my commitment. As this ring has no beginning or end, so shall my devotion for you be." He began slipping the black ring to Thranduil's finger. "As I place it on you, I give you all that I am… And all that I shall become."
When Thranduil had Thorin's ring with him, he began his own vows. "I, Thranduil Oropherion, vow to trust and value your opinion, and stand by your actions. I pledge to treat you as my best friend and equal. I promise that through our union, we can accomplish more than when we are on our own." His smirk had returned. "I vow to try not to cringe at your crude accent when using Elvish words." Thorin huffed at this. "I vow to understand your place whenever you curse. And I vow not to complain at how scratchy your beard is. If you must know, they are the most endearing part of you." Thorin had given him a triumphant smirk. "Lastly, I vow to laugh, for real, at your every attempt at jest, no matter how stupid or poorly told." That wiped the dwarf's smug smirk. "For I love you that much," Thranduil added, softening Thorin's expression into a fond smile.
"With this ring, I give you all that I am, all that I have become, and will be." The Elvenking gave a ring of titanium adorned with emerald, perfectly mimicking the hue of leaves. "May this symbolize my timeless devotion, and the ceaseless passion and adoration I hold for you."
There were happy sighs from men and the dwarves at the exchange of vows. The elves looked as reserve as they appear but were glad for the union that had their usually stoic Elvenking grinning—Bilbo thought that I must have been a sight for them, and for him too, honestly. He briefly saw King Thranduil before, and battle and in his tent when he handed to him and Bard the Bowman the Arkenstone. He noted a stern leader, a cunning and ruthless warrior, but was not reckless when it comes to sending his people to battle. Bilbo had never seen him smile, not even to his own son. And the Elvenking didn't seem as welcoming as Lord Elrond himself.
Ah, Thorin of this world is not the only one in contrast with the original, Bilbo thought idly.
The ceremony proceeded to the braiding of each one's hair. A dwarven tradition, as he was informed before. It would be forever worn by the two of them, bound by a bead of their making. Cheerful applause filled the air, in which Bilbo had lost himself into.
Lastly, was the sharing of the kiss between the newly wedded—where everybody held their breath in anticipation as the Elvenking bent and leaned to the King Under the Mountain. It was short, but full of spark, and there was the unmistakable expression of satisfaction and completeness in Thorin's face. And as for King Thranduil, he glowed like a star walking among those in the land. It was obvious that the feeling was mutual.
And there Thorin goes. He seems much farther away now than ever.
When the ring he was wearing glinted, Bilbo refused to acknowledge something that was crumbling within him.
The festivity continued behind Bilbo's back.
He had secluded himself for a moment, until it turned to several minutes, and then to few more hours. Nobody seemed to have been looking for him—and the balcony provided a spot peaceful enough. He found himself there again, without his pipe this time which he deeply regretted. He happened to have quite a lot of stargazing in Erebor these days that it could last him for a while.
He leaned at the railing, where wind blew his face and ruffled his curls. There was a flutter of fabrics when somebody neared beside him. Bilbo had to double take and blink numerous times before he believed he was seeing who he think it was.
"You are not joining the celebration." It was the Elvenking, and Bilbo had to look up to him when he spoke. The hobbit felt incredibly small beside the tall creature, and it was not only in terms of stature.
"I've had quite a bit of ale, I suppose. And somebody has to be sober enough to take them to their rooms properly," Bilbo answered, his neck craned, and it hurt a little. But he didn't want to be rude to the Elvenking.
"A responsible one you are." After Thranduil observed, he gestured mildly to the seat in which Bilbo gratefully took.
Bilbo shrugged. "And why are you…" not with Thorin. "Not with your guests?"
"I am with you. And you are one of my guests." Bilbo was silent after that. "Thorin noted that you were not with the company. He has been looking for you."
"Has he?" he said before he could stop himself. The Elvenking lifted a slight eyebrow. "I mean, he doesn't have to." Bilbo's eyes sparked in remembrance. "Ah, by the way." There was a pouch he removed from his pocket, giving it to Thranduil. "It might not be as grand as the gifts you two received, but I hope you both like it."
Thranduil opened it, and found seeds inside. "A mallos seed," he said, almost incredulous. "Erebor's soil is enough for this plant, and Greenwood has been missing these flowers lately." He gave a grateful smile to the hobbit. "Legolas would like it. He used to sing a lot of their golden bells." Sadness quietly spilled in those blue orbs.
Bilbo awkwardly bowed in return. "Speaking of which, is your son not here? I haven't seen the prince around."
It seemed to take every bit of Thranduil's strength to answer. "There has been no prince of Greenwood for a thousand of years," Thranduil replied quietly. "Thorin might have told you of Legolas. But he must have forgotten to say that my son is no longer with us. He perished with his mother, my wife."
What? "I am sorry for your loss," Bilbo managed to say as he swallowed the lump of his throat, turning away at Thranduil's masking of his anguish. Another life. And it wasn't only Tauriel's. He internally winced at the amount of changes that were made.
"I thought I would fade then, losing two of my precious family. But I could never give in to grief, as I am still the king of Greenwood, but sometimes I wish I wasn't." He exhaled. "What I had left of them were merely the gems of my late wife and the circlet of my son. Those were what I brought here in Erebor, to be restored as they were and to be placed to our home in memory of them. But the King Under the Mountain then was not as fair as I took him to be. He was already as mad for more gold at that time, and withheld me of my treasures. I would have left with hatred for them, if not for the king's grandson who stood up for me, who knew the importance of those items. Whom I met briefly before being received by the king. It was Thorin, and I never forget when one showed their kindness to me."
Bilbo had heard the other side yesterday from Thorin, who believed what had brought him and Thranduil together was the coming of Smaug. But no, because of Thorin's single act, he was already seen differently by the Elvenking. Incredible how such small action could change the course of fate.
"When the dragon came, Thorin led those that had survived. He called for aid, but I could not risk my own people to face the wrath of the dragon. Instead I gave him and the remaining dwarves temporary homes and the supplies they needed. Those were the only thing I could give, and although it seemed inadequate, Thorin had thanked me a lot for it and considered it a debt he would repay someday. It was never a debt." Thranduil smiled. "He was a born leader, and very unlike those before him. He was already a king to me before, even without Erebor." Bilbo listened interestedly to keep the Elvenking talking. "And then one day, he decided to reclaim this place. I did not want him to, but who am I to go against his wishes? But it was fear for him that I felt. Should he perish in the journey, I would not be able to take it. My heart would die with him, and so I would have faded," he admitted. "And you did no small part in ensuring his safety, Master Baggins."
"I… yes. Somebody have to ensure his safety. You know he's reckless."
"You are right. Thorin is lucky to have someone like you who love him dearly."
"Everyone in the company does, else they wouldn't journey with him," Bilbo pointed out. "No matter how dangerous."
Thranduil cocked his head. "But I do not mean that kind of love." He turned his attention to Bilbo fully. "You love him."
Panic seized the hobbit with the statement. "I-I don't know what you say."
"You know very well what I meant."
He closed his eyes, and bit his lip. Of course, somebody was bound to notice. Although he hoped it would not be Thranduil. So much for that. "Am I that obvious?"
"No. It's something I perceived. Since long before," the Elvenking whispered. "Why did you not tell him?"
"What for?" Bilbo asked wryly. "I know he will never consider me as such. And who am I to him other than a dear friend? It is enough for me to be considered one." He added, "And I am glad for him to be finally happy. He deserve as much." He meant it sincerely this time.
The night breeze blew, colder than earlier, but not frigid enough to chill.
"You are selfless," Thranduil said. "No wonder he admired you so much… And I as well."
Bilbo wasn't really sure if he should admire his version of self in this world. Especially during the battle where all he did was hurt himself, not only physically, at every turn.
When the Elvenking had gotten back to Thorin, Bilbo decided to follow back at the hall. Despite the several hours of doing nothing but drink to oblivion, or dance until their legs gave out, there were still plenty of dwarves on their feet, and were having their own drinking contests. Bilbo wouldn't be surprised if he found out that blood no longer ran in their system but ale.
Shaking his head at the pile of dwarves already down and snoring in one corner, he seated himself in a chair, getting a pear to eat and a mug of drink alone.
Or he thought he was alone, until he turned and found Gimli there.
"Hello," he greeted. He wondered if this Gimli knew who he was. Gimli was somewhat lost in thought and didn't seem to hear Bilbo. He tried again, "Hello, Gimli."
"Master Baggins." Gimli nodded to him. "Apologies, I wasn't aware of your presence."
Bilbo waved off the apology. "You are not with them," he commented, gaze going to the part of the hall where Gimli's father and uncle were being loud on their own, hijacking a barrel of ale for themselves. He noticed the men and elves no longer around. They were not keen in keeping up with the others, he supposed.
Gimli was embarrassed when he followed Bilbo's line of sight. "Aye, I am not in the mood today."
Same here. "I see. Well, at least, we both are of decent condition enough to take care of those…incapable."
Gimli nodded. "I hope the king wouldn't take it as his inadequacy if not all of his guests are enjoying."
"Probably not. He wouldn't know about us anyway." Except that maybe Thorin would about him, because of the Elvenking. "What gives though? I thought dwarves like this sort of thing? Hobbits too, actually, but the alcohol is not as overflowing as this. Except the food."
"You'll laugh if I tell you," Gimli said weakly. Bilbo frowned. "Alright, alright. I know you will not." The dwarf sighed. "It's something regards to my One."
"Oh." The hobbit considered the thought. "You've met yours?"
Gimli winced. "It is a sensitive thing to us, marriage. Seeing our king wedded like that, you'd think for yourself of finding your One too. But that kind of thing has to happen naturally. And they say that not all dwarves have one for their own. Those who doesn't devote themselves to their crafts."
"You don't think you have one?" Bilbo supplied.
"Nay." Gimli shook his head. "In the contrary, I think I do. But I feel like I would not be able to meet them."
"There are cases like that?"
"Aye. If for example, your One is not born of this world yet. And there are some who have met them but are unable to be together due to circumstances, like their One being married to another, or died." Like Kili's case. "Or there's also the possibility of your One already dead before you could even meet them." Gimli looked down. "Which I believe to be my case."
It seemed that Bilbo wasn't alone in feeling heartache tonight. "Maybe not all of us are meant for another after all, or we're not meant for those we like to be with," Bilbo whispered. "And we'll have to make do with what we have."
"Aye, and so it will be a sad and lonely life for us."
He promised himself that he would be sober at the end of the celebration, but Bilbo found himself to be of wobbly feet and dizzying vision. Gimli was no longer by his side, running off to somewhere, his father and uncle probably.
Looking around, the hall was messy and littered with bodies. Like some aftermath of a battle. Bilbo chuckled weakly. There were some on top of the table, and some were doing a fine masterpiece holding their instruments in reverse. The pile he passed by earlier was unmoved, if not more bodies were added.
He had lost track of the time, but he noted Thorin and Thranduil were still present—they made sure to see the end of the festivity as good hosts would. Although a moment later, they stood up, making a move to leave and go for their quarters perhaps.
Bilbo stood, watching as Thorin clasped his hand with Elvenking's. Thorin had taken one last glance around the hall, and when he saw Bilbo, he smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgement.
It must be the ale, but Bilbo wanted to stop the time then and there. He wanted Thorin not to turn away because he knew he would never see that face again. Thorin turned away when Thranduil started leading him to their place.
Look at me.
Bilbo could hear Thorin's cheerful laugh from the other side.
Look at me, Thorin.
But he never did. Bilbo watched them go as Thorin went out of his line of vision.
You always go somewhere I cannot follow.
Admitting defeat, Bilbo removed the ring and was promptly returned to his room at Bag End.
TBC
Mallos is a type of plant that only appeared once in Lord of The Rings when Legolas sang of it.
"And the golden bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin
In the green fields of Lebennin."
Again, thank you for reading! :)