Clarity of Purpose, Chapter 5
Title: Clarity of Purpose, Chap. 5
Chapter Summary: Thorin and Balin show Saruman around Moria. Bilbo makes friends with the man traveling with him instead.
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Thorin Oakenshield, Gandalf, Balin, Dwalin, Saruman
Fandom: Hobbit/Lord of the Rings. Begins in 2968, twenty-six years after the events of "Clarity of Vision" and fifty years before the canonical events of "Lord of the Rings." Thus, characters' ages and the geopolitical situation will be different than LoTR canon!
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2300
Summary: Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins have been parted for many years now, despite the love they bear each other. Now Thorin's research has uncovered a dire threat to Middle Earth--the Ring he carried a little while and then gave to Bilbo. Together with a group of companions composed of the different Free Peoples of Middle Earth, they must attempt to destroy the artifact before its Dark Lord can re-capture it.
Saruman looked around him at the halls of Moria. "How amazing, that you have managed to take back Durin's halls," he said. "I would not have thought it possible. Yet you rousted Azog from his nest."
"King Thorin cut off his foul arm and sent him mewling away. With dwarves, my lord, much is possible that others could not dream of," said Balin, his tone caught between respectful and boasting.
"I will doubt you no longer," laughed Saruman. "Your realm is impressive, King Balin." His eyes went to Thorin. "And is this not the very King Thorin, son of Thráin?"
Thorin bowed stiffly. "I am the grandson of King Thrór, my Lord."
"Is it not true that you recently have gone by 'Oakenshield'?"
"I have," Thorin said--not curtly, but not warmly, either.
"Then I believe it is you I have come to see. I am sure you are wondering at my sudden arrival. Suffice to say I am here to discuss certain portents with you; signs and portents which require the attention of all who care about the fate of Middle Earth."
"Of course!" cried Balin. "Allow me to prepare a room for you--Ori! Lyn! Prepare the Red Room in the western suites for Lord Saruman immediately!"
All formality collapsed into a frenzy of preparation as the dwarves hurried to make things ready for the wizard, and soon the entrance hall was empty once more.
Or almost empty, save for two figures.
From the shadows slipped Bilbo Baggins, who, when he had realized the wizard on the doorstep was not Gandalf, had stepped into a darkened corner. If you had asked him why, he could not have said--only that a cold prickle had run down his spine at the wizard's exquisite voice and he had misliked the feeling.
The other figure was the man who had arrived at Saruman's side--some kind of guard or guide, perhaps. He took off his helmet with its high golden crest in the shape of a horse and shook out long golden hair as he gazed around the hall in wonder. His eyes were steel-blue, with wrinkles at their corners for all he was a young man, creases that spoke of much gazing into distances and much laughter. He exhaled slowly, a smile dawning on his face, and Bilbo decided suddenly that he liked him very much indeed.
"I'm afraid they may have forgotten you," he said, stepping forward.
The man's gaze snapped to him, and a look of mingled surprise and delight crossed his face. "To be honest, I do not mind," he said. "I have never seen such a place as this before, and I would not want to gawk like a unlettered savage in front of its owners at my first glimpse of it."
"It can be a little overwhelming, can't it?" said Bilbo. "I haven't been here long, but I can show you around a little bit."
"That would be a great courtesy," the man said. "My thanks to you--and allow me to introduce myself," he added. "My name is Théoden of Rohan."
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," said Bilbo. "I'm Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire."
"Mr. Baggins," Théoden said. "Forgive me if this is an impertinent question, but you are no dwarf. Are you, perhaps, what is called a halfling?"
"Indeed," Bilbo said comfortably as he led Théoden into Moria, "Some call us that, but we prefer to call ourselves hobbits."
"And how came a hobbit to this realm of the dwarves?"
"Oh," said Bilbo, less comfortably, for he had the definite feeling the Ring was not to be talked about casually, "I'm friends with some dwarves and I came here to visit them."
"A dangerous journey," observed Théoden. "You are a brave soul."
"No," said Bilbo, slightly more sharply than he had intended. "No, I am not. I haven't left the Shire for decades, and even this time--well, I'm not brave, is all." He cleared his throat. "Well. Let me show you around."
He and Théoden wandered the halls of Moria by themselves for an afternoon, and Théoden was filled with wonder. "I thought the delvings of the dwarves would be cramped and small, but truly I feel shrunk into insignificance by these marvels," he said.
When they grew hungry, Bilbo brought him back to his quarters for some tea and scones. "I haven't asked you yet how you came to be working for a wizard," Bilbo said as he poured him a steaming cup.
"Oh, I am not in his employ," Théoden said. "In fact, to be honest, it is not so much Saruman that has business here as--"
The door burst open and Thorin came through it, an unaccustomed flustered look on his face. "Here you are!" he announced. He bowed to Théoden. "A thousand apologies, your highness. Lord Saruman failed to mention who you were until recently, and then you were nowhere to be found. I'm afraid we of Khazad-dûm have been unforgivably rude."
"Not at all," said Théoden with a smile. "Bilbo has been showing me around and has given me a delicious repast; I consider myself welcome indeed."
"Wait," said Bilbo, "What did you mean, your highness?"
"I'm afraid I was sparse in my introduction," Théoden said apologetically. "I am Théoden, son of Thengel, King of Rohan."
"You're a prince?" Bilbo couldn't help but make an exasperated noise as Théoden nodded. "Why am I forever meeting royalty who don't happen to mention it to me?"
Théoden threw back his head and laughed, a delighted roar of sound. "Come now, Bilbo, tell me truthfully--would you have been so comfortable around me if I had told you?"
"He would have," said Thorin before Bilbo could answer, "And may well have been even less respectful if he had known. Bilbo Baggins is not one to be impressed by titles and such."
"Then I am even more delighted to meet him," Théoden said solemnly as Bilbo sputtered. "Kings and princes need more such people around us."
"We do indeed," said Thorin, and his gaze on Bilbo was warm enough to make him blush slightly.
"If you have spoken with Lord Saruman, then you know why I have come," said Théoden.
"He says you came to him seeking help in understanding a dream," said Thorin.
Théoden nodded. "A dream that came to me three times ere I decided to seek out counsel. It was the same each time--a light in the West, and a voice that spoke to me like the cry of an eagle. It spoke a riddle that I could not unravel, and finally it became clear that this was a message that I must take to those wiser than I. Thus I begged permission of my father the King and rode to Isengard to seek the advice of Lord Saruman."
"A riddle?" said Bilbo. "I love riddles."
Théoden smiled at him. "As do I, friend hobbit, but this one I shall not tell in full until we are in formal council. Yet I can tell you the first lines, which were: Seek for the shield which is oaken; in Khazad-dûm it dwells." He shook his head, his eyes far away. "The voice was...not one that can be ignored. And yet I had no idea to what it was referring. Luckily, Lord Saruman knew where this Khazad-dûm was, and he agreed that the portent was such that he should travel with me to discuss its meaning. And so we came together, and here I find that this oaken shield of which my dream spoke was none other than the ally of Rohan, the leader of Erebor!"
Thorin paced in front of the fireplace, tugging on his beard in the way he sometimes did when he was uneasy. "Dreams and portents," he muttered. "I like them not." He smiled at Théoden, but it was somewhat strained. "But I shall not ignore them, your highness. Balin and I agree that you are welcome at our counsels. The full tale I will save for then, but suffice to say for now that a great hazard and a great opportunity has come to us, it we are bold and strike while the iron is hot."
"May I be bold enough to aid you, then," said Théoden, bowing deeply with a flourish of his burgundy cape.
"Mphrphg," Bilbo mumbled into his pillow as Thorin tugged the furry toes that stuck out from the blankets. He always had difficulty waking up easily when in dwarvish halls, away from sunlight.
"We have tea," said Thorin, and he sat up, rubbing bleary eyes.
"Tea?" he said hopefully.
"And bacon."
Bilbo ran a hand through his hair to put it in a semblance of order and hopped out of bed. "How are our guests?" he asked around a mouthful of bacon.
Thorin frowned. "Lyn reports that Prince Théoden is still asleep, but that Saruman's quarters are untouched, as if he was never there. Pondo of the royal guard reports seeing a white light moving through the halls in the night." As if Saruman wandered the halls of Khazad-dûm through the night, seeking...what? He shook his head, unnerved somehow.
"He isn't much like Gandalf, is he?" said Bilbo. "Much grander. I can't imagine him blowing smoke rings or making fireworks." He heaped Shire-imported marmalade onto his toasted bread. "But maybe that's exactly what we need in a time like this."
"Some claim that Saruman was sent to Middle Earth as an emissary from Mahal himself, the same god who made the dwarves," Thorin said. "Certainly he shares our love for the clever and ingenious. He was very taken with the improvements we've made to the halls here." His praise for the complex communications-system they were in the process of implementing had made Balin glow with pride. "He is very wise."
"But you wish Gandalf were here instead," said Bilbo, shooting him a canny look over his toast.
"I wish no such thing," blustered Thorin. "That interfering meddler, interloping schemer, friend of elves and bearer of bad news--"
"--I do too," Bilbo said, and Thorin sighed.
"Well, in any case, he is not here, and we have our own wizard to help now. Balin has decided that we--that is to say, you and I, Saruman, Théoden, and he and Dwalin--are to meet this evening in the western meeting room to share our information, pool our resources, and discuss what must be done. I do not believe that either of our new guests is fully aware of what we are dealing with yet, but we shall see."
Bilbo muttered something into his tea that might have been "I still wish Gandalf were here," but Thorin chose to ignore it.
"We have no maps of lands so far to the west in Rohan," exclaimed Théoden, looking at Bilbo's hastily-sketched map of the Shire. He had kept Bilbo busy most of the afternoon drawing maps and detailing life in the Shire, and sharing in turn stories of the rolling fields of Rohan, its open skies and its magnificent horses. He had been so extravagant in his praise of the latter that Bilbo would have been dubious if Thorin had not confirmed that the horses of Rohan were truly the finest in the world.
Saruman Bilbo had seen nothing more of; Balin reported that he chosen to stay in his quarters studying and meditating until the Council convened. Bilbo felt somewhat guilty at being relieved about that.
"Saruman is perhaps the wisest being in Middle Earth," said Théoden when he asked, "Although we see him rarely in Rohan. Gandalf the Grey we know, for he is often a guest at Meduseld, our Golden Hall. But Isengard has ever been our ally, for it lies close on our borders."
"It is time," said Thorin, appearing from their private rooms into the sitting room. He had changed from his travel-worn and comfortable clothing into finery befitting a king: midnight blue silks and velvets, glinting with mithril thread and onyx beads. Bilbo tried not to stare as Théoden rose to his feet and bowed.
"Lead the way, King Thorin."
They walked through the great halls of Moria, their voices echoing. And then, through the clatter of carts going by and the sound of deep voices raised in dwarvish song, another sound came: light and melodious and alien.
"Is that--" Thorin stopped and put his hand on his sword-hilt. "By my beard, that is the Elvish tongue! Elvish, in the halls of Khazad-dûm?"
He broke into a run, and Théoden and Bilbo ran to keep up with him--a difficult task, for once a dwarf moved into a full run they had a steady speed that was hard to match. Eventually they skidded around a corner and found themselves face-to-face with a group of elves, locked in fierce argument with Balin and Dwalin in front of the council room doors.
The elves stared at the new arrivals; the human, dwarf and hobbit stared back.
"Lady Arwen!" cried Bilbo, spotting a familiar face among the tall, beautiful forms. "And Lord Glorfindel! What in the world brings you here?"
"I have one guess," growled Thorin, striding forward as he caught a glimpse of a grey pointed hat. "Curse you, wizard, I have told you this is no business of elves! I shall have the guard who let you in here flayed!"
The elves parted to reveal Gandalf leaning on his staff, looking amused. "You shall do no such thing, Thorin," he said, "for you know as well as I that--"
"--Well, well, well," came a voice from behind them, and Bilbo saw Gandalf's smile slip askew for a moment before he turned.
"It appears I have arrived here slightly before you this time, Mithrandir," said Saruman.
Chapter Summary: Thorin and Balin show Saruman around Moria. Bilbo makes friends with the man traveling with him instead.
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Thorin Oakenshield, Gandalf, Balin, Dwalin, Saruman
Fandom: Hobbit/Lord of the Rings. Begins in 2968, twenty-six years after the events of "Clarity of Vision" and fifty years before the canonical events of "Lord of the Rings." Thus, characters' ages and the geopolitical situation will be different than LoTR canon!
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2300
Summary: Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins have been parted for many years now, despite the love they bear each other. Now Thorin's research has uncovered a dire threat to Middle Earth--the Ring he carried a little while and then gave to Bilbo. Together with a group of companions composed of the different Free Peoples of Middle Earth, they must attempt to destroy the artifact before its Dark Lord can re-capture it.
Saruman looked around him at the halls of Moria. "How amazing, that you have managed to take back Durin's halls," he said. "I would not have thought it possible. Yet you rousted Azog from his nest."
"King Thorin cut off his foul arm and sent him mewling away. With dwarves, my lord, much is possible that others could not dream of," said Balin, his tone caught between respectful and boasting.
"I will doubt you no longer," laughed Saruman. "Your realm is impressive, King Balin." His eyes went to Thorin. "And is this not the very King Thorin, son of Thráin?"
Thorin bowed stiffly. "I am the grandson of King Thrór, my Lord."
"Is it not true that you recently have gone by 'Oakenshield'?"
"I have," Thorin said--not curtly, but not warmly, either.
"Then I believe it is you I have come to see. I am sure you are wondering at my sudden arrival. Suffice to say I am here to discuss certain portents with you; signs and portents which require the attention of all who care about the fate of Middle Earth."
"Of course!" cried Balin. "Allow me to prepare a room for you--Ori! Lyn! Prepare the Red Room in the western suites for Lord Saruman immediately!"
All formality collapsed into a frenzy of preparation as the dwarves hurried to make things ready for the wizard, and soon the entrance hall was empty once more.
Or almost empty, save for two figures.
From the shadows slipped Bilbo Baggins, who, when he had realized the wizard on the doorstep was not Gandalf, had stepped into a darkened corner. If you had asked him why, he could not have said--only that a cold prickle had run down his spine at the wizard's exquisite voice and he had misliked the feeling.
The other figure was the man who had arrived at Saruman's side--some kind of guard or guide, perhaps. He took off his helmet with its high golden crest in the shape of a horse and shook out long golden hair as he gazed around the hall in wonder. His eyes were steel-blue, with wrinkles at their corners for all he was a young man, creases that spoke of much gazing into distances and much laughter. He exhaled slowly, a smile dawning on his face, and Bilbo decided suddenly that he liked him very much indeed.
"I'm afraid they may have forgotten you," he said, stepping forward.
The man's gaze snapped to him, and a look of mingled surprise and delight crossed his face. "To be honest, I do not mind," he said. "I have never seen such a place as this before, and I would not want to gawk like a unlettered savage in front of its owners at my first glimpse of it."
"It can be a little overwhelming, can't it?" said Bilbo. "I haven't been here long, but I can show you around a little bit."
"That would be a great courtesy," the man said. "My thanks to you--and allow me to introduce myself," he added. "My name is Théoden of Rohan."
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," said Bilbo. "I'm Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire."
"Mr. Baggins," Théoden said. "Forgive me if this is an impertinent question, but you are no dwarf. Are you, perhaps, what is called a halfling?"
"Indeed," Bilbo said comfortably as he led Théoden into Moria, "Some call us that, but we prefer to call ourselves hobbits."
"And how came a hobbit to this realm of the dwarves?"
"Oh," said Bilbo, less comfortably, for he had the definite feeling the Ring was not to be talked about casually, "I'm friends with some dwarves and I came here to visit them."
"A dangerous journey," observed Théoden. "You are a brave soul."
"No," said Bilbo, slightly more sharply than he had intended. "No, I am not. I haven't left the Shire for decades, and even this time--well, I'm not brave, is all." He cleared his throat. "Well. Let me show you around."
He and Théoden wandered the halls of Moria by themselves for an afternoon, and Théoden was filled with wonder. "I thought the delvings of the dwarves would be cramped and small, but truly I feel shrunk into insignificance by these marvels," he said.
When they grew hungry, Bilbo brought him back to his quarters for some tea and scones. "I haven't asked you yet how you came to be working for a wizard," Bilbo said as he poured him a steaming cup.
"Oh, I am not in his employ," Théoden said. "In fact, to be honest, it is not so much Saruman that has business here as--"
The door burst open and Thorin came through it, an unaccustomed flustered look on his face. "Here you are!" he announced. He bowed to Théoden. "A thousand apologies, your highness. Lord Saruman failed to mention who you were until recently, and then you were nowhere to be found. I'm afraid we of Khazad-dûm have been unforgivably rude."
"Not at all," said Théoden with a smile. "Bilbo has been showing me around and has given me a delicious repast; I consider myself welcome indeed."
"Wait," said Bilbo, "What did you mean, your highness?"
"I'm afraid I was sparse in my introduction," Théoden said apologetically. "I am Théoden, son of Thengel, King of Rohan."
"You're a prince?" Bilbo couldn't help but make an exasperated noise as Théoden nodded. "Why am I forever meeting royalty who don't happen to mention it to me?"
Théoden threw back his head and laughed, a delighted roar of sound. "Come now, Bilbo, tell me truthfully--would you have been so comfortable around me if I had told you?"
"He would have," said Thorin before Bilbo could answer, "And may well have been even less respectful if he had known. Bilbo Baggins is not one to be impressed by titles and such."
"Then I am even more delighted to meet him," Théoden said solemnly as Bilbo sputtered. "Kings and princes need more such people around us."
"We do indeed," said Thorin, and his gaze on Bilbo was warm enough to make him blush slightly.
"If you have spoken with Lord Saruman, then you know why I have come," said Théoden.
"He says you came to him seeking help in understanding a dream," said Thorin.
Théoden nodded. "A dream that came to me three times ere I decided to seek out counsel. It was the same each time--a light in the West, and a voice that spoke to me like the cry of an eagle. It spoke a riddle that I could not unravel, and finally it became clear that this was a message that I must take to those wiser than I. Thus I begged permission of my father the King and rode to Isengard to seek the advice of Lord Saruman."
"A riddle?" said Bilbo. "I love riddles."
Théoden smiled at him. "As do I, friend hobbit, but this one I shall not tell in full until we are in formal council. Yet I can tell you the first lines, which were: Seek for the shield which is oaken; in Khazad-dûm it dwells." He shook his head, his eyes far away. "The voice was...not one that can be ignored. And yet I had no idea to what it was referring. Luckily, Lord Saruman knew where this Khazad-dûm was, and he agreed that the portent was such that he should travel with me to discuss its meaning. And so we came together, and here I find that this oaken shield of which my dream spoke was none other than the ally of Rohan, the leader of Erebor!"
Thorin paced in front of the fireplace, tugging on his beard in the way he sometimes did when he was uneasy. "Dreams and portents," he muttered. "I like them not." He smiled at Théoden, but it was somewhat strained. "But I shall not ignore them, your highness. Balin and I agree that you are welcome at our counsels. The full tale I will save for then, but suffice to say for now that a great hazard and a great opportunity has come to us, it we are bold and strike while the iron is hot."
"May I be bold enough to aid you, then," said Théoden, bowing deeply with a flourish of his burgundy cape.
"Mphrphg," Bilbo mumbled into his pillow as Thorin tugged the furry toes that stuck out from the blankets. He always had difficulty waking up easily when in dwarvish halls, away from sunlight.
"We have tea," said Thorin, and he sat up, rubbing bleary eyes.
"Tea?" he said hopefully.
"And bacon."
Bilbo ran a hand through his hair to put it in a semblance of order and hopped out of bed. "How are our guests?" he asked around a mouthful of bacon.
Thorin frowned. "Lyn reports that Prince Théoden is still asleep, but that Saruman's quarters are untouched, as if he was never there. Pondo of the royal guard reports seeing a white light moving through the halls in the night." As if Saruman wandered the halls of Khazad-dûm through the night, seeking...what? He shook his head, unnerved somehow.
"He isn't much like Gandalf, is he?" said Bilbo. "Much grander. I can't imagine him blowing smoke rings or making fireworks." He heaped Shire-imported marmalade onto his toasted bread. "But maybe that's exactly what we need in a time like this."
"Some claim that Saruman was sent to Middle Earth as an emissary from Mahal himself, the same god who made the dwarves," Thorin said. "Certainly he shares our love for the clever and ingenious. He was very taken with the improvements we've made to the halls here." His praise for the complex communications-system they were in the process of implementing had made Balin glow with pride. "He is very wise."
"But you wish Gandalf were here instead," said Bilbo, shooting him a canny look over his toast.
"I wish no such thing," blustered Thorin. "That interfering meddler, interloping schemer, friend of elves and bearer of bad news--"
"--I do too," Bilbo said, and Thorin sighed.
"Well, in any case, he is not here, and we have our own wizard to help now. Balin has decided that we--that is to say, you and I, Saruman, Théoden, and he and Dwalin--are to meet this evening in the western meeting room to share our information, pool our resources, and discuss what must be done. I do not believe that either of our new guests is fully aware of what we are dealing with yet, but we shall see."
Bilbo muttered something into his tea that might have been "I still wish Gandalf were here," but Thorin chose to ignore it.
"We have no maps of lands so far to the west in Rohan," exclaimed Théoden, looking at Bilbo's hastily-sketched map of the Shire. He had kept Bilbo busy most of the afternoon drawing maps and detailing life in the Shire, and sharing in turn stories of the rolling fields of Rohan, its open skies and its magnificent horses. He had been so extravagant in his praise of the latter that Bilbo would have been dubious if Thorin had not confirmed that the horses of Rohan were truly the finest in the world.
Saruman Bilbo had seen nothing more of; Balin reported that he chosen to stay in his quarters studying and meditating until the Council convened. Bilbo felt somewhat guilty at being relieved about that.
"Saruman is perhaps the wisest being in Middle Earth," said Théoden when he asked, "Although we see him rarely in Rohan. Gandalf the Grey we know, for he is often a guest at Meduseld, our Golden Hall. But Isengard has ever been our ally, for it lies close on our borders."
"It is time," said Thorin, appearing from their private rooms into the sitting room. He had changed from his travel-worn and comfortable clothing into finery befitting a king: midnight blue silks and velvets, glinting with mithril thread and onyx beads. Bilbo tried not to stare as Théoden rose to his feet and bowed.
"Lead the way, King Thorin."
They walked through the great halls of Moria, their voices echoing. And then, through the clatter of carts going by and the sound of deep voices raised in dwarvish song, another sound came: light and melodious and alien.
"Is that--" Thorin stopped and put his hand on his sword-hilt. "By my beard, that is the Elvish tongue! Elvish, in the halls of Khazad-dûm?"
He broke into a run, and Théoden and Bilbo ran to keep up with him--a difficult task, for once a dwarf moved into a full run they had a steady speed that was hard to match. Eventually they skidded around a corner and found themselves face-to-face with a group of elves, locked in fierce argument with Balin and Dwalin in front of the council room doors.
The elves stared at the new arrivals; the human, dwarf and hobbit stared back.
"Lady Arwen!" cried Bilbo, spotting a familiar face among the tall, beautiful forms. "And Lord Glorfindel! What in the world brings you here?"
"I have one guess," growled Thorin, striding forward as he caught a glimpse of a grey pointed hat. "Curse you, wizard, I have told you this is no business of elves! I shall have the guard who let you in here flayed!"
The elves parted to reveal Gandalf leaning on his staff, looking amused. "You shall do no such thing, Thorin," he said, "for you know as well as I that--"
"--Well, well, well," came a voice from behind them, and Bilbo saw Gandalf's smile slip askew for a moment before he turned.
"It appears I have arrived here slightly before you this time, Mithrandir," said Saruman.