Clarity of Vision, Chapter 27
Title: Clarity of Vision, Chapter 27
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Thorin, Kili, Fili, Balin, Dwalin, Dís
Fandom: Hobbit
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2500
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: The Line of Durin is reunited with Dís and plans are made, while Bilbo is reunited with an old friend as well.
"Don't," Bilbo said without turning around as he heard Thorin come into the bedroom. He pulled a linen shirt out of its drawer, folded it carefully, and put it into his battered pack.
"Don't what?"
"Don't even bother," Bilbo said. He put his hands on his hips and dropped his voice into an exaggerated growl. "'It's a long journey, Bilbo, maybe a dangerous one, and you should stay here in your nice safe hole and not come with me.' I'm not even listening."
"You have never listened to me before." Thorin's grumble had no heat in it. "I certainly will not expect you to start at this late juncture."
Bilbo blinked. "Oh. So...why aren't you packing?" He waved a hand at Thorin's bedroll, still neatly laid out on his bedroom floor. "You heard Bounder Pott: the road to Bree is open! Your sister is there and if we hope to catch up to her, there's not a moment to lose."
"I know." Yet Thorin didn't move; his eyes traveled around the room, resting on the polished wood drawers, the striped quilt, the little glass jars on the windowsill. "I know."
Bilbo put down the silver-gray waistcoat he was folding and crossed the room to stand in front of Thorin. "It was spring," he said. Thorin's eyes focused on him, and he cleared his throat. "When Galadriel's mirror showed you Bag End, it was spring in the vision." Feeling greatly daring, he reached out and twined a lock of Thorin's hair around his fingers. "That means you'll be back."
"Perhaps." Thorin's voice was doubtful, but some of the darkness lifted from his eyes. "So, was that your best waistcoat I saw you packing?"
"Well, I might be meeting a king, after all." Bilbo tugged Thorin's hair lightly. "My second-best might have been good enough for a prince, but surely not a king."
Thorin's glower was as good as a smile. He opened his mouth to retort--
"Uncle!" Kíli burst into the room. Bilbo untangled his hand and moved to step away from Thorin, but Thorin's hand came down on his shoulder, keeping him close. Kíli didn't seem to notice at all. "The horses are ready, Uncle! Let's go!"
"Very well," Thorin said as his nephew ran out of the room again. He rolled up his bedroll and tied off his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. "I am ready."
"Well! You pack quickly," Bilbo said, grabbing a fuchsia paisley ascot and tucking it in a corner of his pack.
"I have been on the road for decades now," Thorin said. "I travel light."
"As long as you have the tea, you're probably set, after all."
"Indeed, I have everything I need," Thorin said, putting his hand to his heart and bowing slightly.
Bilbo remembered the little paper star he had tucked into his breast pocket and felt himself reddening slightly. He unpinned the diamond brooch from his lapel and slipped it into its black velvet pouch, then put the pouch into his pack with a small smile at Thorin. "Would you tell Kíli I'll be right there? Just a couple more things."
After Thorin left, he took the ring from his mother's jewelry box and clipped it to his watch fob, safe in his pocket.
After all, it never hurt to have a way to disappear when traveling through the wilds of the east.
The expression on Dís's face when her sons and brother burst through the door of the Prancing Pony was one of utter shock. "Mother!" cried Kíli and Fíli in unison, and jumped forward to throw their arms around her.
All the dwarves in the inn jumped to their feet, and for a time pandemonium reigned. Dwalin was slapping everyone's backs, Balin was buying everyone drinks, Fíli and Kíli were trying to talk at once over the din to a baffled Dís, and Bilbo was mostly trying to avoid getting trampled in the chaos.
"Silence!"
The room went still and everyone looked at Thorin.
"Those of you loyal to King Thrór, rejoice!" There was a fierce smile on Thorin's face. "We come with a cure to the king's illness, with the salvation of the Lonely Mountain! We return to Erebor in triumph!"
The dwarves broke into a roar, and then nothing at all could be heard over the din of flagons clashing together and a song that appeared to be a paean to the "glorious line of Durin." But Bilbo noticed when Dís made her way through the hubbub and seized Thorin's arm. "We have to talk!" he saw her mouth to Thorin, and Thorin nodded. He turned and met Bilbo's gaze unerringly, as if he were keeping track of where he was at all times, and nodded to him. Bilbo nodded back and gestured: Go on, I'll be fine, and as they slipped from the room he dedicated himself to finding a corner where he could avoid attention as much as possible.
As the door swung shut behind them, Dís threw her hands in the air in a helpless gesture. "Where do we start?"
There was a bold streak of white in her hair that had not been there when Thorin left the Lonely Mountain: "a vein of mithril," his people called it, but it pained his heart to see it. "We start with me saying that it is a pleasure to see you again, my sister," he said, and pulled her into a hug.
She stiffened in his embrace for a moment, then wrapped her arms around him and squeezed fiercely. "My brother," she said. "I can scarce believe it. Here with my sons, and mad talk of a cure--"
"--Not mad," Thorin said. "A medicine, an herb that can heal. It grows only in the Shire."
"The Shire." She pulled away and paced across the room. "The home of the halflings. That halfling I met--he is with you today. Surely he has not stayed with you for the past four months!"
Thorin laughed at the expression on her face. "He has indeed, although at times with much reluctance. But he has proven to be a soul both brave and true, and Mahal blessed the day that you asked him to guide your sons and thus brought him into my--into our lives."
She looked at him keenly for a moment. "Since I was a babe, I have wondered what this would look like."
"What?"
"You happy," she said.
"I shall not truly be happy until my father and grandfather are healed and Erebor secure once more," he said, but his gruff tone was unconvincing even to himself, and she smiled. Then the smile slipped away.
"And you think you can just return in triumph to the Lonely Mountain with your fabled cure? I am afraid it shall not be so easy."
He sat down in front of the fire. "Tell me."
"Father is..." She sighed. "You must have suspected why I left Erebor."
"You feared for Fíli and Kíli's lives," Thorin said levelly.
She winced, as if hearing it said out loud hurt her. "I tried to convince Frerin to come as well, but you know Frerin. The moon rises and sets on his father, and he will believe no ill of him. But I have seen it in his eyes." She took a ragged breath.
"The dragon," said Thorin, and her gaze flashed to his in surprised recognition.
"Yes. That...greed, the consuming fire. Not like our grandfather, who has slipped into a haze of dreams of gold. This was something...crueler." She shivered, although the fire was merry and the room was warm. "By the time we left, none were allowed to see King Thrór but our father."
"Do you believe he was still alive?"
"Yes. Glóin's son is in the royal guard, you probably don't remember him--"
"--Gimli? But he is only a child."
"Much time has passed since you left Erebor, brother," she said with a thin smile. "Gimli was persuaded to look the other way for a moment, just long enough for his father to look inside and see that Thrór lived still. He did not recognize Glóin. He was..." She broke off for a moment. "Glóin said he was chained to the bed."
Thorin felt his hands clench. "We must hurry home."
"You are still banned from Erebor. You cannot simply walk through the front door." She met his eyes and seemed to read his thoughts, as she had so often as a small child.
"The secret door," they said in unison.
"You can open it for us from inside, and we will find our way to Thrór and bring him the cure."
"And Father?"
Thorin felt his throat constrict. "Once he drinks the medicine, he will come to his senses once more."
"Thorin--"
"--He will be cured," Thorin said, hearing the childish desperation in his voice. "And he will thank us for it, and we will be a family again."
After a moment, Dís went to him and put her arms around him, and he leaned into the embrace, and they said nothing else for a while.
Bilbo ducked a flying flagon and contemplated his options. He didn't want to interrupt Thorin and Dís, and he didn't officially have a room yet to retreat to. After a moment's thought, he slipped out the door and headed for the stables.
Viola stamped her hooves and blew hay-scented breath at him as he came in. "There you go," he said. "I stole some sugar lumps for you."
A high-pitched whinny of sheer delight bugled from four stalls down, and Bilbo nearly dropped his sugar at the familiar sound. "Daffodil!" he cried.
The golden pony pranced in place on seeing his face appear at her stall, then eagerly licked up the second sugar lump from his hand.
"My goodness, how did you ever get here?" Bilbo said.
"Ah, Mr. Baggins!" Benjamin Butterbur's voice rang through the stable. "I see you found your pony."
"Yes, I--but whatever is she doing here?"
"Didn't you get my note?" At Bilbo's expression, he scratched his head. "Maybe I forgot to send it. I meant to, though. Some elves brought her by and asked me to keep her safe for you. Quite a pony, quite a pony."
"She is indeed," said Bilbo fondly.
"You...won't be wanting her back right away, will you?" Butterbur looked worried and a little embarrassed. "When the elves told me that she'd made her way back to Rivendell on her own, that seemed like a quite smart little pony, and ...I hoped maybe you wouldn't mind if in payment for her room and board, I... well, what I'm trying to say is that Miss Daffodil is currently in a delicate condition."
"Oh!" Bilbo looked at Daffodil, who nickered complacently. "So there's a baby pony on the way, then? Well, maybe Bree is a better place for her than out on the roads anyway, and to be honest, I have no idea where I'd keep her at Bag End, so...perhaps I can trade her to you for the price of our room and board while we're here?"
Butterbur looked delighted. "I'll give her a nice home, Mr. Baggins, rest assured!" There was a crashing noise from inside the inn and he winced and looked over his shoulder. "I'd better get back to the dwarves, then. I've had all of your things put into our last remaining room--it'll be crowded, but it's a very nice room, I assure you! It overlooks the garden and…" Another crash. "Oh dear," he said, and hurried out.
Bilbo made his way up the stairs to the second floor and was going down the corridor when a door on the right opened and he met Dís's eyes. "Mr. Baggins," Dís said. "I thought it might be you. No one else in the inn is so quiet," she added, smiling. "May I...speak with you a moment?"
He followed her into the room and murmured his thanks as she gave him a cup of wine.
"Is it true that you will be accompanying us all the way to Erebor?" she said as he sat down.
"That was my plan," said Bilbo, sipping his drink. "If you don't mind my tagging along. I can help with the cooking, maybe, to cover the cost."
"The cost is not important," she said. "You are quite welcome to travel with us." She gave him a long look. "I asked you to keep an eye on my sons, but you seem to have set your eye on a prince instead."
Bilbo felt himself flush. "Now, that's hardly fair," he said with some heat. "I don't care a fig for his rank or his title or any of those ludicrous things. He'd be brave and gentle and good whether he was King of Erebor or a wandering tramp, and I'd still--" His voice faltered into silence. "Sometimes I wish he weren't a prince, because then he could stay in the Shire and we could--but he can't, I know that." He put down his wine and managed a polite bow. "My apologies, Lady Dís, but perhaps I should be taking my leave of you. You needn't fear I will interfere with the Line of Durin in any way."
"My apologies, Mr. Baggins," said Dís before he could make his exit. "I see that I have done you a disservice." She smiled wryly as Bilbo looked back at her. "I should have known my brother would never care for someone unworthy of him, for he is a proud and a stubborn one."
"Tell me about it," Bilbo said with feeling, and she threw back her head and laughed.
"Would you like me to? Stay, and we can share epic tales of the mule-headedness of my brother." Her smile this time was almost shy, and Bilbo remembered suddenly the baby gazing up in adoration at Thorin within Galadriel's Mirror. "If you will be so kind as to forgive my hasty words, Mr. Baggins."
Bilbo cleared his throat and picked up his wine cup once more. "My friends call me Bilbo."
Dís sat down next to the fire and took a long sip of wine. "Bilbo," she said as if trying it out. "Has Balin told you the story of the time Thorin decided to learn to swim?" At Bilbo's rapt headshake, she went on, "He was only forty or so at the time, and he'd read something in a poem about the ocean and got it in his head that he needed to know how to swim. Well, no one in Erebor knew how, so…"
Bilbo started to chuckle not long into the story, and then Dís got to giggling so hard she almost couldn't finish, and then Bilbo told her about the time they forded a river and a fish had gotten into Thorin's breeches. The morning sun found them still laughing and swapping stories when Thorin came the door (with a suspicious frown) to tell them the company was moving out.
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Thorin, Kili, Fili, Balin, Dwalin, Dís
Fandom: Hobbit
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2500
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: The Line of Durin is reunited with Dís and plans are made, while Bilbo is reunited with an old friend as well.
"Don't," Bilbo said without turning around as he heard Thorin come into the bedroom. He pulled a linen shirt out of its drawer, folded it carefully, and put it into his battered pack.
"Don't what?"
"Don't even bother," Bilbo said. He put his hands on his hips and dropped his voice into an exaggerated growl. "'It's a long journey, Bilbo, maybe a dangerous one, and you should stay here in your nice safe hole and not come with me.' I'm not even listening."
"You have never listened to me before." Thorin's grumble had no heat in it. "I certainly will not expect you to start at this late juncture."
Bilbo blinked. "Oh. So...why aren't you packing?" He waved a hand at Thorin's bedroll, still neatly laid out on his bedroom floor. "You heard Bounder Pott: the road to Bree is open! Your sister is there and if we hope to catch up to her, there's not a moment to lose."
"I know." Yet Thorin didn't move; his eyes traveled around the room, resting on the polished wood drawers, the striped quilt, the little glass jars on the windowsill. "I know."
Bilbo put down the silver-gray waistcoat he was folding and crossed the room to stand in front of Thorin. "It was spring," he said. Thorin's eyes focused on him, and he cleared his throat. "When Galadriel's mirror showed you Bag End, it was spring in the vision." Feeling greatly daring, he reached out and twined a lock of Thorin's hair around his fingers. "That means you'll be back."
"Perhaps." Thorin's voice was doubtful, but some of the darkness lifted from his eyes. "So, was that your best waistcoat I saw you packing?"
"Well, I might be meeting a king, after all." Bilbo tugged Thorin's hair lightly. "My second-best might have been good enough for a prince, but surely not a king."
Thorin's glower was as good as a smile. He opened his mouth to retort--
"Uncle!" Kíli burst into the room. Bilbo untangled his hand and moved to step away from Thorin, but Thorin's hand came down on his shoulder, keeping him close. Kíli didn't seem to notice at all. "The horses are ready, Uncle! Let's go!"
"Very well," Thorin said as his nephew ran out of the room again. He rolled up his bedroll and tied off his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. "I am ready."
"Well! You pack quickly," Bilbo said, grabbing a fuchsia paisley ascot and tucking it in a corner of his pack.
"I have been on the road for decades now," Thorin said. "I travel light."
"As long as you have the tea, you're probably set, after all."
"Indeed, I have everything I need," Thorin said, putting his hand to his heart and bowing slightly.
Bilbo remembered the little paper star he had tucked into his breast pocket and felt himself reddening slightly. He unpinned the diamond brooch from his lapel and slipped it into its black velvet pouch, then put the pouch into his pack with a small smile at Thorin. "Would you tell Kíli I'll be right there? Just a couple more things."
After Thorin left, he took the ring from his mother's jewelry box and clipped it to his watch fob, safe in his pocket.
After all, it never hurt to have a way to disappear when traveling through the wilds of the east.
The expression on Dís's face when her sons and brother burst through the door of the Prancing Pony was one of utter shock. "Mother!" cried Kíli and Fíli in unison, and jumped forward to throw their arms around her.
All the dwarves in the inn jumped to their feet, and for a time pandemonium reigned. Dwalin was slapping everyone's backs, Balin was buying everyone drinks, Fíli and Kíli were trying to talk at once over the din to a baffled Dís, and Bilbo was mostly trying to avoid getting trampled in the chaos.
"Silence!"
The room went still and everyone looked at Thorin.
"Those of you loyal to King Thrór, rejoice!" There was a fierce smile on Thorin's face. "We come with a cure to the king's illness, with the salvation of the Lonely Mountain! We return to Erebor in triumph!"
The dwarves broke into a roar, and then nothing at all could be heard over the din of flagons clashing together and a song that appeared to be a paean to the "glorious line of Durin." But Bilbo noticed when Dís made her way through the hubbub and seized Thorin's arm. "We have to talk!" he saw her mouth to Thorin, and Thorin nodded. He turned and met Bilbo's gaze unerringly, as if he were keeping track of where he was at all times, and nodded to him. Bilbo nodded back and gestured: Go on, I'll be fine, and as they slipped from the room he dedicated himself to finding a corner where he could avoid attention as much as possible.
As the door swung shut behind them, Dís threw her hands in the air in a helpless gesture. "Where do we start?"
There was a bold streak of white in her hair that had not been there when Thorin left the Lonely Mountain: "a vein of mithril," his people called it, but it pained his heart to see it. "We start with me saying that it is a pleasure to see you again, my sister," he said, and pulled her into a hug.
She stiffened in his embrace for a moment, then wrapped her arms around him and squeezed fiercely. "My brother," she said. "I can scarce believe it. Here with my sons, and mad talk of a cure--"
"--Not mad," Thorin said. "A medicine, an herb that can heal. It grows only in the Shire."
"The Shire." She pulled away and paced across the room. "The home of the halflings. That halfling I met--he is with you today. Surely he has not stayed with you for the past four months!"
Thorin laughed at the expression on her face. "He has indeed, although at times with much reluctance. But he has proven to be a soul both brave and true, and Mahal blessed the day that you asked him to guide your sons and thus brought him into my--into our lives."
She looked at him keenly for a moment. "Since I was a babe, I have wondered what this would look like."
"What?"
"You happy," she said.
"I shall not truly be happy until my father and grandfather are healed and Erebor secure once more," he said, but his gruff tone was unconvincing even to himself, and she smiled. Then the smile slipped away.
"And you think you can just return in triumph to the Lonely Mountain with your fabled cure? I am afraid it shall not be so easy."
He sat down in front of the fire. "Tell me."
"Father is..." She sighed. "You must have suspected why I left Erebor."
"You feared for Fíli and Kíli's lives," Thorin said levelly.
She winced, as if hearing it said out loud hurt her. "I tried to convince Frerin to come as well, but you know Frerin. The moon rises and sets on his father, and he will believe no ill of him. But I have seen it in his eyes." She took a ragged breath.
"The dragon," said Thorin, and her gaze flashed to his in surprised recognition.
"Yes. That...greed, the consuming fire. Not like our grandfather, who has slipped into a haze of dreams of gold. This was something...crueler." She shivered, although the fire was merry and the room was warm. "By the time we left, none were allowed to see King Thrór but our father."
"Do you believe he was still alive?"
"Yes. Glóin's son is in the royal guard, you probably don't remember him--"
"--Gimli? But he is only a child."
"Much time has passed since you left Erebor, brother," she said with a thin smile. "Gimli was persuaded to look the other way for a moment, just long enough for his father to look inside and see that Thrór lived still. He did not recognize Glóin. He was..." She broke off for a moment. "Glóin said he was chained to the bed."
Thorin felt his hands clench. "We must hurry home."
"You are still banned from Erebor. You cannot simply walk through the front door." She met his eyes and seemed to read his thoughts, as she had so often as a small child.
"The secret door," they said in unison.
"You can open it for us from inside, and we will find our way to Thrór and bring him the cure."
"And Father?"
Thorin felt his throat constrict. "Once he drinks the medicine, he will come to his senses once more."
"Thorin--"
"--He will be cured," Thorin said, hearing the childish desperation in his voice. "And he will thank us for it, and we will be a family again."
After a moment, Dís went to him and put her arms around him, and he leaned into the embrace, and they said nothing else for a while.
Bilbo ducked a flying flagon and contemplated his options. He didn't want to interrupt Thorin and Dís, and he didn't officially have a room yet to retreat to. After a moment's thought, he slipped out the door and headed for the stables.
Viola stamped her hooves and blew hay-scented breath at him as he came in. "There you go," he said. "I stole some sugar lumps for you."
A high-pitched whinny of sheer delight bugled from four stalls down, and Bilbo nearly dropped his sugar at the familiar sound. "Daffodil!" he cried.
The golden pony pranced in place on seeing his face appear at her stall, then eagerly licked up the second sugar lump from his hand.
"My goodness, how did you ever get here?" Bilbo said.
"Ah, Mr. Baggins!" Benjamin Butterbur's voice rang through the stable. "I see you found your pony."
"Yes, I--but whatever is she doing here?"
"Didn't you get my note?" At Bilbo's expression, he scratched his head. "Maybe I forgot to send it. I meant to, though. Some elves brought her by and asked me to keep her safe for you. Quite a pony, quite a pony."
"She is indeed," said Bilbo fondly.
"You...won't be wanting her back right away, will you?" Butterbur looked worried and a little embarrassed. "When the elves told me that she'd made her way back to Rivendell on her own, that seemed like a quite smart little pony, and ...I hoped maybe you wouldn't mind if in payment for her room and board, I... well, what I'm trying to say is that Miss Daffodil is currently in a delicate condition."
"Oh!" Bilbo looked at Daffodil, who nickered complacently. "So there's a baby pony on the way, then? Well, maybe Bree is a better place for her than out on the roads anyway, and to be honest, I have no idea where I'd keep her at Bag End, so...perhaps I can trade her to you for the price of our room and board while we're here?"
Butterbur looked delighted. "I'll give her a nice home, Mr. Baggins, rest assured!" There was a crashing noise from inside the inn and he winced and looked over his shoulder. "I'd better get back to the dwarves, then. I've had all of your things put into our last remaining room--it'll be crowded, but it's a very nice room, I assure you! It overlooks the garden and…" Another crash. "Oh dear," he said, and hurried out.
Bilbo made his way up the stairs to the second floor and was going down the corridor when a door on the right opened and he met Dís's eyes. "Mr. Baggins," Dís said. "I thought it might be you. No one else in the inn is so quiet," she added, smiling. "May I...speak with you a moment?"
He followed her into the room and murmured his thanks as she gave him a cup of wine.
"Is it true that you will be accompanying us all the way to Erebor?" she said as he sat down.
"That was my plan," said Bilbo, sipping his drink. "If you don't mind my tagging along. I can help with the cooking, maybe, to cover the cost."
"The cost is not important," she said. "You are quite welcome to travel with us." She gave him a long look. "I asked you to keep an eye on my sons, but you seem to have set your eye on a prince instead."
Bilbo felt himself flush. "Now, that's hardly fair," he said with some heat. "I don't care a fig for his rank or his title or any of those ludicrous things. He'd be brave and gentle and good whether he was King of Erebor or a wandering tramp, and I'd still--" His voice faltered into silence. "Sometimes I wish he weren't a prince, because then he could stay in the Shire and we could--but he can't, I know that." He put down his wine and managed a polite bow. "My apologies, Lady Dís, but perhaps I should be taking my leave of you. You needn't fear I will interfere with the Line of Durin in any way."
"My apologies, Mr. Baggins," said Dís before he could make his exit. "I see that I have done you a disservice." She smiled wryly as Bilbo looked back at her. "I should have known my brother would never care for someone unworthy of him, for he is a proud and a stubborn one."
"Tell me about it," Bilbo said with feeling, and she threw back her head and laughed.
"Would you like me to? Stay, and we can share epic tales of the mule-headedness of my brother." Her smile this time was almost shy, and Bilbo remembered suddenly the baby gazing up in adoration at Thorin within Galadriel's Mirror. "If you will be so kind as to forgive my hasty words, Mr. Baggins."
Bilbo cleared his throat and picked up his wine cup once more. "My friends call me Bilbo."
Dís sat down next to the fire and took a long sip of wine. "Bilbo," she said as if trying it out. "Has Balin told you the story of the time Thorin decided to learn to swim?" At Bilbo's rapt headshake, she went on, "He was only forty or so at the time, and he'd read something in a poem about the ocean and got it in his head that he needed to know how to swim. Well, no one in Erebor knew how, so…"
Bilbo started to chuckle not long into the story, and then Dís got to giggling so hard she almost couldn't finish, and then Bilbo told her about the time they forded a river and a fish had gotten into Thorin's breeches. The morning sun found them still laughing and swapping stories when Thorin came the door (with a suspicious frown) to tell them the company was moving out.