Clarity of Vision, Chapter 6
Title: Clarity of Vision, Chapter 6
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Fíli, Kíli, Thorin, Dwalin, Balin
Fandom: Hobbit
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 2400
Story Summary: In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent--from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond--with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.
Chapter Summary: Thorin finds a slim lead, and the party must fight their way out of Fornost.
"We only have three days' worth of rations left," Balin said.
"We'd have enough for more if we hadn't had three extra guests show up," Thorin said shortly, glaring down at the book he was reading.
"I've got some biscuits and...um, some lemon drops," said Bilbo.
Thorin ground his teeth and ignored the hobbit. The last two days had been difficult ones, with Thorin and Bilbo avoiding each other as much as possible. The hobbit spent most of his time training with the knife, while Thorin continued to race through books. Time was running out, in so many ways. If Thráin was already showing signs of the dragon-sickness--
Thorin thought of Erebor in the grip of his mad father. Dís was apparently in Ered Luin and would be for months. For all he knew, their father had sent her there to get rid of her. And Frerin--Thorin loved his younger brother, but he had never had the spine to defy their father.
Time was running out.
"Then there's the fact that we're all pretty sick of being cooped up in this library," Dwalin pointed out. "Getting on each others' nerves, everyone yelling and barking."
"I'd think you must be used to it," Bilbo said. He bit his lip. "Spending time in libraries, I mean."
"Usually Thorin disappears into a library and we disappear into the nearest tavern," Dwalin said cheerfully. "They're not generally under siege by skeletons."
"We have to leave before we run out of food, Thorin," Balin said.
Thorin ignored him and rubbed his eyes. He wished he could use his glasses, but with the other dwarves right there, it was out of the question. He squinted at the text. "We stay until we find answers," he said.
Bilbo made an annoyed sound. Thorin ignored that too.
: : :
Bilbo was sparring with a grinning Fíli when they heard Thorin's voice raised in a roar: "Useless! This is useless!"
Fíli dropped his knife and bolted toward the voice; Bilbo followed more slowly.
Balin, Dwalin, and Kíli were already in the room. "At least you found more of the verse. That's good, right?" said Kíli hopefully.
"What does it say?" said Balin.
Thorin was glaring at the crumbling scrap of parchment in his hands. When he spoke, his voice was shaking with fury:
"It starts clearly enough, with 'To save the soul--' or maybe mind '--from the dragon's bane--' and there's an adjective that means 'terrible' there as well. But after that it's just--" he waved a hand angrily. "The second line is about love and idleness, or resting in love? And then a passage comparing a heart at ease to a pretty flower?"
He set the scrap down on the table with a deliberate care which hinted at a desire to tear it to shreds. "Sentimental elvish nonsense does not help me find an answer." His fists clenched. "Could no one simply clearly explain where this artifact is and what it looks like?"
"What's that note at the bottom?" Bilbo asked, forgetting for a moment that he was angry at Thorin and leaning forward to peer at it.
The rage had drained out of Thorin, leaving him looking weary. He sat down, his shoulders slumping. "It says that when they moved the capital from Annúminas to Fornost about two thousand years ago, they left a copy of the complete poem in the old archives there."
"So there's an even older library out there?" Kíli shook his head in amazement. He looked at the other dwarves. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's pack up and get going!"
"If we emerge from Fornost alive, you will be returning to Erebor," said Thorin.
"No," said Fíli.
"Did that sound like I was making a suggestion?" said Thorin.
Fíli looked nervous, but he shook his head. "Kíli and I are staying with you, Uncle Thorin. No matter what."
"Thorin," said Balin, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Considering the situation in Erebor, it might be best...well..."
"He's trying to say the boys might be safer with us than with Prince-Regent Thráin," said Dwalin.
Thorin winced as though Dwalin had struck him, but said nothing.
"And it's best if we don't split up," Fíli added. "Strength in numbers, right?"
Bilbo swallowed. "What about me?" At the sound of his small voice, the dwarves turned to look at him as if they had forgotten him entirely. "How am I getting home?"
Thorin worried his lip, glaring at Bilbo. Then he grabbed a map from his pack and spread it out on the table.
"We leave Fornost in the middle of the day, when the sunlight is brightest and the undead will be at their weakest. We go at top speed through the Evendim Pass--" He traced a path west with a broad finger marked with tiny paper cuts, "--to Annúminas. From there it's a fairly safe route south along the Baranduin to the Shire. We shall find you an escort in one of the settlements on the banks of the Evendim to see you home." His finger stabbed the Shire. "Is that satisfactory to you, Mr. Baggins?"
He lifted a sardonically polite eyebrow, and Bilbo bit back an angry reply. "Quite. Thank you," he snapped.
Thorin bowed. "You are most welcome." He straightened and looked at Bilbo. "Do try to keep up. It would be a shame if we had to abandon you to the undead hordes."
"Uncle doesn't mean that," Kíli said as Thorin swept from the room, then shot a worried glance at Fíli, who shrugged.
"Well, I have no intention of being left behind," huffed Bilbo, and went to prepare his pack.
: : :
"Idle love in sweet repose," Thorin growled as he put the last of his things in his pack. "I traveled the breadth of Middle Earth to be told that a healthy mind is like a pretty flower." Maybe the halfling was right: maybe this was all a waste of time. Sighing, he pulled Deathless from its scabbard and sighted down the blade. "More work for you soon," he murmured.
"You often talk to your sword?"
Thorin managed to keep from jumping. "It is not a good idea to sneak up on an armed dwarf," he said without turning to look at Bilbo.
"I wasn't sneaking," Bilbo said indignantly. "I was just walking. We hobbits are naturally very quiet."
"If only that were true," muttered Thorin.
Bilbo made an exasperated sound high in his nose. "Look, I didn't come here to bother you, I just came to get my cooking utensils." He picked them up with a clatter and stuffed them into his pack. "And I'm sorry, but if you're going to take everything I say as some kind of personal attack then that's your problem, not mine." He opened his mouth to say something else, then stopped, looking at the sword. "That's very impressive," he said.
Thorin cut the air with it and the hobbit moved a few paces further away. "Its name is Deathless, after Durin, the founder of our race. I forged it in the fires of Erebor."
"Durin? You mean like the--" Bilbo closed his mouth as if unwilling to bring up the topic once more. "You made that?" he said instead, looking grudgingly impressed.
"It has never failed me," said Thorin, sheathing it once more. "And it will not fail us tomorrow either."
"I've never doubted your strength or your bravery," Bilbo retorted, shouldering his pack. "Just your manners," he added at the door, and disappeared.
Thorin reflected that he was getting tired of never having the last word with this annoying halfling.
: : :
"Before we leave," said Thorin, "I have finished a rough translation of the new verse from Sindarin into Westron." He cleared his throat, looking at the other dwarves, and recited:
"To save the soul from dragon's dreadful bane
Requires idle love in sweet repose;
A heart that's eased from anguish and from pain
Is like a blossom that unblighted grows."
"That's a pretty translation," said Kíli.
Thorin looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. "I need you all to memorize it," he said.
"What? Why?" asked Fíli.
"Just do it," said Thorin, saying the verse again.
The other dwarves muttered it back, and Thorin corrected the words they got wrong. "Try again."
"This is kind of a silly thing to focus on before charging into battle, Uncle," said Fíli.
"It is necessary you all know it," said Thorin.
"But why?"
Thorin made an exasperated noise. "Because if I fall today, it will be up to you to carry on our quest, and you do not know Sindarin, so stop questioning me and memorize the poem," he snarled.
Fíli closed his mouth with a look of horror on his face and meekly recited the poem back to Thorin until he seemed satisfied.
"Very well. It is time. I shall take the lead, with Mr. Baggins behind me." Thorin pointed at his nephews. "You are to stay to the left and right of Mr. Baggins. Balin and Dwalin shall take up the rear."
Bilbo couldn't help but notice this put him in the most well-defended position; he fingered the hilt of his knife uneasily, not liking the idea that Fíli and Kíli might have to protect him at their own risk. Thorin's eye fell on his nervous fingers, and he stilled them with an effort.
"There will be fewer undead out in the full light of day," said Thorin, still looking at him, "and they will be greatly weakened. We may not even have to fight at all."
"That would be a shame," grinned Kíli.
"Yes, because you did so well against them the first time," growled Thorin, and the smile fell from his nephew's face. Thorin turned away to check his pack as if he hadn't seen anything, but Bilbo saw a chagrined expression cross his face for an instant. "There should be no barrow-wight with them this time," he said more softly, looking at his pack. "A barrow-wight is a dread foe, one that none of us could stand against." He tied the pack closed and swung it onto his shoulders. "Let's go."
Dwalin and Balin stood on either side of the heavy stone doors of the library and pushed them open; thin autumn sunlight streamed across the threshold.
Thorin took a deep breath and broke into a run, and Bilbo followed him, his heart pounding.
The next hours were a blur of panic and a whirl of terror for Bilbo. The skeletons were scattered and slower in the light of day, but sometimes one would rise from the ground directly in front of them, its long fingers grasping in glee. Deathless cleaved bone again and again, and beside him Kíli and Fíli spun and countered each attack so that no undead warrior ever came near Bilbo.
On they ran, sturdy legs eating up the distance until Bilbo felt he couldn't take another step, and then he gritted his teeth and ran more.
On the horizon, a long line of cairns stood against the sky. "I believe that marks the edge of the downs," rasped Thorin. "If we can get past that--"
Dwalin grunted and whacked a skeleton so hard that its head flew off; it reached up to touch its neck in puzzlement before collapsing. More fell in behind it, their arms reaching out. "Go!" Dwalin bellowed.
Impossibly, Thorin picked up the pace. Bilbo's lungs were burning and his vision swam, but he ran doggedly on, staying between Fíli and Kíli.
Running at top speed, they charged between the cairns--and discovered that the stones had been perched on the edge of a low bluff. With a bark of alarm, Thorin skidded and then tumbled down the bluff, and Bilbo followed after, unable to stop his momentum. Thorin ended up in a gorse bush, and Bilbo thumped into him a moment later, ending up in a flailing tangle of limbs. He heard cursing from Fíli and Kíli on either side, and realized that the air was clearer; some barrier had been crossed, and the miasma of fear and hate that hung over the battlefield was gone.
"Balin," panted Thorin beneath him, struggling to sit up. "Dwalin!"
The two older dwarves weren't with them.
Thorin staggered to his feet, his eyes wild. "Balin!" he howled.
He was lurching back up the bluff, scrabbling wildly against the crumbling slope, when two burly figures appeared against the reddening sky. They skidded down the bluff, keeping their footing, to end up near the rest of the party. "Takes more than a few skeletons to stop us," growled Dwalin.
Bilbo saw Thorin's shoulders sag as Fíli and Kíli hugged the older dwarves; his legs gave out from under him entirely and he sat down hard on the debris-strewn ground. "Don't do that to me," he panted, his voice hoarse and so low that Bilbo suspected only he could hear him. Then he took a deep breath and bellowed it: "Do not do that, do you hear me!"
"Well, lad, we could hardly not hear you, could we?" Balin grinned and rubbed at his ear.
Thorin was covered with a fine layer of dust and enough bits of gorse that he should have looked amusing, but Bilbo saw his eyes and looked away. "Losing you is unacceptable," Thorin said, turning away to search for his pack.
"We'll keep that under advisement," said Balin.
"Mahal forbid we do something unacceptable," chuckled Dwalin.
"We can reach the pass before nightfall if we do not waste any more time," Thorin announced, turning to follow the path that wound north-west.
"Yes, Uncle, I do think that we were very brave," said Kíli beneath his breath, falling in behind him. "Kind of you to mention it."
"I thought you were quite courageous," said Bilbo.
Kíli and Fíli's faces made it clear that it didn't mean quite the same thing coming from him. "Thank you," Fíli said politely.
Together they strode toward the Evendim Pass, following Thorin's unyielding back once more.
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Fíli, Kíli, Thorin, Dwalin, Balin
Fandom: Hobbit
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 2400
Story Summary: In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent--from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond--with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.
Chapter Summary: Thorin finds a slim lead, and the party must fight their way out of Fornost.
"We only have three days' worth of rations left," Balin said.
"We'd have enough for more if we hadn't had three extra guests show up," Thorin said shortly, glaring down at the book he was reading.
"I've got some biscuits and...um, some lemon drops," said Bilbo.
Thorin ground his teeth and ignored the hobbit. The last two days had been difficult ones, with Thorin and Bilbo avoiding each other as much as possible. The hobbit spent most of his time training with the knife, while Thorin continued to race through books. Time was running out, in so many ways. If Thráin was already showing signs of the dragon-sickness--
Thorin thought of Erebor in the grip of his mad father. Dís was apparently in Ered Luin and would be for months. For all he knew, their father had sent her there to get rid of her. And Frerin--Thorin loved his younger brother, but he had never had the spine to defy their father.
Time was running out.
"Then there's the fact that we're all pretty sick of being cooped up in this library," Dwalin pointed out. "Getting on each others' nerves, everyone yelling and barking."
"I'd think you must be used to it," Bilbo said. He bit his lip. "Spending time in libraries, I mean."
"Usually Thorin disappears into a library and we disappear into the nearest tavern," Dwalin said cheerfully. "They're not generally under siege by skeletons."
"We have to leave before we run out of food, Thorin," Balin said.
Thorin ignored him and rubbed his eyes. He wished he could use his glasses, but with the other dwarves right there, it was out of the question. He squinted at the text. "We stay until we find answers," he said.
Bilbo made an annoyed sound. Thorin ignored that too.
: : :
Bilbo was sparring with a grinning Fíli when they heard Thorin's voice raised in a roar: "Useless! This is useless!"
Fíli dropped his knife and bolted toward the voice; Bilbo followed more slowly.
Balin, Dwalin, and Kíli were already in the room. "At least you found more of the verse. That's good, right?" said Kíli hopefully.
"What does it say?" said Balin.
Thorin was glaring at the crumbling scrap of parchment in his hands. When he spoke, his voice was shaking with fury:
"It starts clearly enough, with 'To save the soul--' or maybe mind '--from the dragon's bane--' and there's an adjective that means 'terrible' there as well. But after that it's just--" he waved a hand angrily. "The second line is about love and idleness, or resting in love? And then a passage comparing a heart at ease to a pretty flower?"
He set the scrap down on the table with a deliberate care which hinted at a desire to tear it to shreds. "Sentimental elvish nonsense does not help me find an answer." His fists clenched. "Could no one simply clearly explain where this artifact is and what it looks like?"
"What's that note at the bottom?" Bilbo asked, forgetting for a moment that he was angry at Thorin and leaning forward to peer at it.
The rage had drained out of Thorin, leaving him looking weary. He sat down, his shoulders slumping. "It says that when they moved the capital from Annúminas to Fornost about two thousand years ago, they left a copy of the complete poem in the old archives there."
"So there's an even older library out there?" Kíli shook his head in amazement. He looked at the other dwarves. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's pack up and get going!"
"If we emerge from Fornost alive, you will be returning to Erebor," said Thorin.
"No," said Fíli.
"Did that sound like I was making a suggestion?" said Thorin.
Fíli looked nervous, but he shook his head. "Kíli and I are staying with you, Uncle Thorin. No matter what."
"Thorin," said Balin, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Considering the situation in Erebor, it might be best...well..."
"He's trying to say the boys might be safer with us than with Prince-Regent Thráin," said Dwalin.
Thorin winced as though Dwalin had struck him, but said nothing.
"And it's best if we don't split up," Fíli added. "Strength in numbers, right?"
Bilbo swallowed. "What about me?" At the sound of his small voice, the dwarves turned to look at him as if they had forgotten him entirely. "How am I getting home?"
Thorin worried his lip, glaring at Bilbo. Then he grabbed a map from his pack and spread it out on the table.
"We leave Fornost in the middle of the day, when the sunlight is brightest and the undead will be at their weakest. We go at top speed through the Evendim Pass--" He traced a path west with a broad finger marked with tiny paper cuts, "--to Annúminas. From there it's a fairly safe route south along the Baranduin to the Shire. We shall find you an escort in one of the settlements on the banks of the Evendim to see you home." His finger stabbed the Shire. "Is that satisfactory to you, Mr. Baggins?"
He lifted a sardonically polite eyebrow, and Bilbo bit back an angry reply. "Quite. Thank you," he snapped.
Thorin bowed. "You are most welcome." He straightened and looked at Bilbo. "Do try to keep up. It would be a shame if we had to abandon you to the undead hordes."
"Uncle doesn't mean that," Kíli said as Thorin swept from the room, then shot a worried glance at Fíli, who shrugged.
"Well, I have no intention of being left behind," huffed Bilbo, and went to prepare his pack.
: : :
"Idle love in sweet repose," Thorin growled as he put the last of his things in his pack. "I traveled the breadth of Middle Earth to be told that a healthy mind is like a pretty flower." Maybe the halfling was right: maybe this was all a waste of time. Sighing, he pulled Deathless from its scabbard and sighted down the blade. "More work for you soon," he murmured.
"You often talk to your sword?"
Thorin managed to keep from jumping. "It is not a good idea to sneak up on an armed dwarf," he said without turning to look at Bilbo.
"I wasn't sneaking," Bilbo said indignantly. "I was just walking. We hobbits are naturally very quiet."
"If only that were true," muttered Thorin.
Bilbo made an exasperated sound high in his nose. "Look, I didn't come here to bother you, I just came to get my cooking utensils." He picked them up with a clatter and stuffed them into his pack. "And I'm sorry, but if you're going to take everything I say as some kind of personal attack then that's your problem, not mine." He opened his mouth to say something else, then stopped, looking at the sword. "That's very impressive," he said.
Thorin cut the air with it and the hobbit moved a few paces further away. "Its name is Deathless, after Durin, the founder of our race. I forged it in the fires of Erebor."
"Durin? You mean like the--" Bilbo closed his mouth as if unwilling to bring up the topic once more. "You made that?" he said instead, looking grudgingly impressed.
"It has never failed me," said Thorin, sheathing it once more. "And it will not fail us tomorrow either."
"I've never doubted your strength or your bravery," Bilbo retorted, shouldering his pack. "Just your manners," he added at the door, and disappeared.
Thorin reflected that he was getting tired of never having the last word with this annoying halfling.
: : :
"Before we leave," said Thorin, "I have finished a rough translation of the new verse from Sindarin into Westron." He cleared his throat, looking at the other dwarves, and recited:
"To save the soul from dragon's dreadful bane
Requires idle love in sweet repose;
A heart that's eased from anguish and from pain
Is like a blossom that unblighted grows."
"That's a pretty translation," said Kíli.
Thorin looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. "I need you all to memorize it," he said.
"What? Why?" asked Fíli.
"Just do it," said Thorin, saying the verse again.
The other dwarves muttered it back, and Thorin corrected the words they got wrong. "Try again."
"This is kind of a silly thing to focus on before charging into battle, Uncle," said Fíli.
"It is necessary you all know it," said Thorin.
"But why?"
Thorin made an exasperated noise. "Because if I fall today, it will be up to you to carry on our quest, and you do not know Sindarin, so stop questioning me and memorize the poem," he snarled.
Fíli closed his mouth with a look of horror on his face and meekly recited the poem back to Thorin until he seemed satisfied.
"Very well. It is time. I shall take the lead, with Mr. Baggins behind me." Thorin pointed at his nephews. "You are to stay to the left and right of Mr. Baggins. Balin and Dwalin shall take up the rear."
Bilbo couldn't help but notice this put him in the most well-defended position; he fingered the hilt of his knife uneasily, not liking the idea that Fíli and Kíli might have to protect him at their own risk. Thorin's eye fell on his nervous fingers, and he stilled them with an effort.
"There will be fewer undead out in the full light of day," said Thorin, still looking at him, "and they will be greatly weakened. We may not even have to fight at all."
"That would be a shame," grinned Kíli.
"Yes, because you did so well against them the first time," growled Thorin, and the smile fell from his nephew's face. Thorin turned away to check his pack as if he hadn't seen anything, but Bilbo saw a chagrined expression cross his face for an instant. "There should be no barrow-wight with them this time," he said more softly, looking at his pack. "A barrow-wight is a dread foe, one that none of us could stand against." He tied the pack closed and swung it onto his shoulders. "Let's go."
Dwalin and Balin stood on either side of the heavy stone doors of the library and pushed them open; thin autumn sunlight streamed across the threshold.
Thorin took a deep breath and broke into a run, and Bilbo followed him, his heart pounding.
The next hours were a blur of panic and a whirl of terror for Bilbo. The skeletons were scattered and slower in the light of day, but sometimes one would rise from the ground directly in front of them, its long fingers grasping in glee. Deathless cleaved bone again and again, and beside him Kíli and Fíli spun and countered each attack so that no undead warrior ever came near Bilbo.
On they ran, sturdy legs eating up the distance until Bilbo felt he couldn't take another step, and then he gritted his teeth and ran more.
On the horizon, a long line of cairns stood against the sky. "I believe that marks the edge of the downs," rasped Thorin. "If we can get past that--"
Dwalin grunted and whacked a skeleton so hard that its head flew off; it reached up to touch its neck in puzzlement before collapsing. More fell in behind it, their arms reaching out. "Go!" Dwalin bellowed.
Impossibly, Thorin picked up the pace. Bilbo's lungs were burning and his vision swam, but he ran doggedly on, staying between Fíli and Kíli.
Running at top speed, they charged between the cairns--and discovered that the stones had been perched on the edge of a low bluff. With a bark of alarm, Thorin skidded and then tumbled down the bluff, and Bilbo followed after, unable to stop his momentum. Thorin ended up in a gorse bush, and Bilbo thumped into him a moment later, ending up in a flailing tangle of limbs. He heard cursing from Fíli and Kíli on either side, and realized that the air was clearer; some barrier had been crossed, and the miasma of fear and hate that hung over the battlefield was gone.
"Balin," panted Thorin beneath him, struggling to sit up. "Dwalin!"
The two older dwarves weren't with them.
Thorin staggered to his feet, his eyes wild. "Balin!" he howled.
He was lurching back up the bluff, scrabbling wildly against the crumbling slope, when two burly figures appeared against the reddening sky. They skidded down the bluff, keeping their footing, to end up near the rest of the party. "Takes more than a few skeletons to stop us," growled Dwalin.
Bilbo saw Thorin's shoulders sag as Fíli and Kíli hugged the older dwarves; his legs gave out from under him entirely and he sat down hard on the debris-strewn ground. "Don't do that to me," he panted, his voice hoarse and so low that Bilbo suspected only he could hear him. Then he took a deep breath and bellowed it: "Do not do that, do you hear me!"
"Well, lad, we could hardly not hear you, could we?" Balin grinned and rubbed at his ear.
Thorin was covered with a fine layer of dust and enough bits of gorse that he should have looked amusing, but Bilbo saw his eyes and looked away. "Losing you is unacceptable," Thorin said, turning away to search for his pack.
"We'll keep that under advisement," said Balin.
"Mahal forbid we do something unacceptable," chuckled Dwalin.
"We can reach the pass before nightfall if we do not waste any more time," Thorin announced, turning to follow the path that wound north-west.
"Yes, Uncle, I do think that we were very brave," said Kíli beneath his breath, falling in behind him. "Kind of you to mention it."
"I thought you were quite courageous," said Bilbo.
Kíli and Fíli's faces made it clear that it didn't mean quite the same thing coming from him. "Thank you," Fíli said politely.
Together they strode toward the Evendim Pass, following Thorin's unyielding back once more.