DISCLAIMER: NO MONEY I HAZ GOT FROM DIS, TOLKIEN EZ AMAZINK. I PLAY WITH HIS CHARACTERS FOR FUN. ^_^
Sorry I took so long in getting this up! Life is crazy sometimes dontcha know? Hope ya'all enjoy this bit. More to come soon!
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Bilbo felt Thorin shake his shoulder, waking him for what seemed the twentieth time that night. This of course was possibly exaggerating, but then one must remember that Mr. Baggins was a hobbit. And hobbits do not enjoy being woken from their well liked, and some of them will claim well earned, sleep.
Although it was still dark; it was early dawn, and the world was just beginning to wake from it's deep slumber. No birds sang as yet, and even those that would call their eerie cries during the night seemed to have grown weary. The dim light was just beginning to cast the shadows in silver on the damp ground, as Bilbo muffled an almost involuntary irritated groan. This was a time when most hobbits, especially those that were respectable like our Mr. Baggins, would never be seen out of doors. All his neighbors would still be in their warm beds, dreaming of little else than breakfast for the next day.
Bilbo had been on the road long enough to flatter himself by saying he was well-traveled, although there are probably many that would disagree with him on that point, but still not gotten used to these hours. Thorin was even worse than the other Dwarves, whose sheer numbers had made the task of watches fairly easy, never giving the Hobbit more than an hour if anything.
He blinked...an hour? His last rest felt longer by far. He wrinkled his nose as the smell of cooking meat reached his nostrils, invading with it's delicious fragrance.
"Mr. Baggins, if you do not rise I will be forced to eat all of breakfast myself." Came the voice of Thorin; Bilbo could just see the Dwarf smirking in amusement.
Bilbo shot straight up like a rising corpse, as Thorin raised an eyebrow in surprise. Perhaps the Dwarf thought that he had misjudged the Hobbit's love of food. What a peculiar people halflings were...
"How long have I been asleep?!" Bilbo demanded sharply.
"Not four hours..." The Dwarf looked as if he had not expected the question.
"Four hours!? You took my watch!" Bilbo fumed. Thorin obviously did not think he was capable of doing his share.
"Hardly." The Dwarf replied evenly, "You were weary and stumbling over your own feet; I meant to break camp earlier." He then shrugged, "And I thought a meal would not go amiss."
"You think, that because I am a Hobbit, that I am incapable of taking my share! That I am unable to stand watch with the rest!" Bilbo scowled darkly, "Well I can, contrary to popular belief. If everyone would be kind enough to not be so kind and take my hour for me."
The murderous look the Hobbit had on his face was enough to convince Thorin to give in to his demands. The Hobbit would tire of this new fancy soon. No matter.
"Well then, you can even the score tonight Mr. Baggins." Thorin replied, attempting to appease the disgruntled Halfling.
Bilbo crossed his arms and fell into a sulking silence, glaring at the Dwarf. Thorin shifted, he did not feel comfortable with the Hobbit looking at him, as if he had done something wrong. Which he of course hadn't. He had only done it because he was better suited to it then a hobbit. He had a difficult enough time trusting the eyes and ears of the other Dwarves. His own senses were by far more reliable. The Hobbit had been weary after all...
He sprinkled a pinch of herbs on the meat cooking over the fire; the rest had done the Hobbit well after all. He looked much better than four hours ago, it was well that Thorin had let him rest.
"Wrong."
"What?" The voice had startled Thorin out of his thoughts. He looked at the Hobbit, who still had his scowl on and arms crossed in a manner worthy of a great judge viewing something distasteful.
"Wrong." He sat down, and pinching the herbs smelled them. "Just as I thought."
Thorin was visibly showing his irritation now. "What?" he asked gruffly.
"It's all wrong. What on earth are you thinking, using that?" Bilbo looked as if he was judging something that was not fit for human consumption.
Thorin bristled. Now the Hobbit was questioning his culinary abilities, this was going too far.
"This is an old recipe meant for journeys. If you do not care to have any, that is your business." He said with an air of dignity, "And I am quite capable of cooking a decent meal at the least."
Bilbo shrugged, he wasn't going to argue. He sat down on a convenient stone at the opposite side of the fire.
"I could take over you know..." He said, half hoping to save the meal and half hoping to be given at least something to do. Thorin seemed to think he could do everything himself. If it kept up this way, there would be a very well rested Hobbit in full health and one sour and weary Dwarf.
"No." Thorin answered with a tone that made for no contradiction, he would prove to this foolish Hobbit that he could cook. If Durin's heir could do one thing, it would be the ability to make a decent meal. No, he made no false pretences of being an authority on the culinary art, but he knew enough.
"Are you sure?" Bilbo said, almost wincing as the foreseen answer came.
"No."
"So there's no chance of-well-none at-" here Bilbo was interrupted by Thorin.
"Mr. Baggins, if you-" Thorin began.
"Right. Right." Bilbo nodded abruptly, turning sharply and walking around the camp for lack of anything to do.
Thorin growled under his breath as he felt the Hobbit's presence circle him again and again. Valar! How anyone could be so annoying he knew not how.
A few moments passed in silence, as the fire hissed in pleasure as it licked the sides of the meat in delight.
"I'm going to the creek to wash up." Bilbo finally said, stuffing his hands snuggly into his trouser pockets.
Thorin still seemed ruffled by Bilbo's culinary expertise, and answered with an edge, "Fine then. Fill the water skin while you're there, and mind that you aren't too long about it."
Surely the Hobbit couldn't bungle this small task, Thorin thought. Relieved to have the Hobbit out of his presence and be left to his own thoughts for a moment. He took the herbs up again in his hand, bringing it to his nose and inhaling.
It did not smell as well as it did before, perhaps the Halfling was right.
Humph. Well the Hobbit would learn something of real Dwarven cooking to dazzle the imagination should they ever regain the mountain.
Thinking these thoughts and of what he once called home made his heart suddenly sink, feeling the heaviness of doubt and hopelessness. For what hope was there to be had? An involuntary sigh escaped him. By the light of the Valar! How?! How was he, a small company of Dwarves, and a mere Hobbit to defeat a dragon and reclaim an ancient stronghold?
Things had been very different a year ago, when he first saw the Grey Pilgrim. He remembered well, the smoke rings that half hid him from the eyes of the inhabitants of Bree, little knowing who it was they had as a guest that night.
He had thought then that perhaps the Valar had smiled on him that day, for if anyone could help his people, none better could be found then Gandalf the Grey. The marvelous tales of his deeds and abilities did not fall on deaf ears, Gandalf the Grey! Gandalf the Grey, sitting there in the same inn on the edge of Spring not far from Bree. It was remarkable chance that had brought him there that day.
It was then that Thorin, for the first time in many long years, dared to hope. Hope that one day he might see again the home of his forefathers and reclaim what was rightfully his people's. But most importantly, to avenge those that the foul worm had torn from life.
Ah Erebor! When would he see the home of his childhood again? When would he feel your ancient stone and walk your great caverns again? When could he walk the ways he used to? Before the exile, when they still had had so much. He still remembered the music, the lights, the mischief he would get pulled into by Frerin.
A thousand curses on that worm Smaug! May his skin wither and his eyes rot!
He would see the old Drake killed, for Frerin, for Dis, For his father and grandfather, for all of his people. Never would he rest till they were avenged.
If the quest had started with little hope, there was even less now.
His heart was full of misgivings. Perhaps the wizard was having some sort of private joke or mocking him. Probably both. He was separated from the company, with no one but the Hobbit who depended on him for survival. Perhaps it was lucky, for Bilbo at least. The Hobbit would surely die if lost alone in these rugged and wild lands. Thorin had no wish for that to happen.
But Aule! It would have been better to leave the fellow where he belonged, with his people!
He sat silent, bowed with the many troubles on his mind.
It had not been more than five minutes since Bilbo had left before Thorin had a strange feeling well up from the ground into his bones. The Earth seemed almost in pain, with the world seeming to hold it's breath making it all the more noticeable. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. He stood up, cooking success or failure depending on how one looked at it, forgotten, he drew Orcrist. The blade glowed an ominous blue. The Hobbit was in danger.