Clarity of Purpose, Chapter 10
Title: Clarity of Purpose, Chap. 10
Chapter Summary: Events at the Council of Khazad-dum reach a turning point, as does Bilbo Baggins of Bag End.
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin
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: 1700
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.
“Bilbo,” Thorin said after returning from Saruman’s quarters, as they turned down the bed, “What do you think we should do with the Ring?” The wizard’s words still echoed in his ears, promising a life with Bilbo free of the Ring--a long life, a happy and quiet life together. Surely they deserved that much?
Bilbo looked rather startled at the question. “I don’t know much about these big questions, you know. I just brought it here, and I count on the lot of you to figure out the best path. I--” He broke off, looking rather guilty. “Thorin, I have to tell you...before the Council began, I…”
He trailed off and Thorin waited patiently for him to finish; after a moment he said in a very small voice:
“I offered to give the Ring to Galadriel a few days ago.”
”What?” Thorin sputtered, and Bilbo grimaced.
“She didn’t take it.”
“Well, obviously not! But that you would offer such an artifact of power to an--” Remembering Galadriel’s words about Durin, her joy in his halls, Thorin broke off before he could say “elf-witch.” “What did she say?”
“She laughed,” Bilbo said. “She laughed two times. The first time it was--it was rather terrible, actually. I’m not sure I can describe it, and I’m not sure I want to. And then she stopped and laughed again, and it was sweet and sad and...and still rather terrible, but in a different way. She told me that no matter how good her intentions were, that she would still end up wielding it to the harm of Middle Earth, and so she rejected it and the power that it offered. So that won’t work. I suppose--” He swallowed. “I suppose I’ll have to give it to one of the wizards, or have it hidden somewhere.”
“What if there was a way to destroy it?”
Bilbo flinched. “Destroy it? Oh, what a pity,” he murmured. “But--but if it were necessary to defeat Sauron, I suppose it would have to be done. Can Gandalf do that?”
“Alas, no,” said Thorin. “Gandalf believes that it can only be destroyed by throwing it into the fires of Mount Doom, deep in the heart of Mordor.”
Bilbo’s eyes went wide. “Really? Well, um, whoever they choose to do that will have to be very brave. My goodness.”
Thorin couldn’t help a tired chuckle at his expression. “Gandalf and I both believe that anyone else to bear the Ring would risk corruption by Sauron. Galadriel senses it too, that is why she rejected it. The greater the power, the greater the corruption. It will have to be you, Bilbo.”
“What? No, that’s--you’ve carried it before, I could give it to you--”
Thorin recoiled a step, then mastered himself. “I have already proven far too susceptible. But I swear you shall not be alone--”
To his surprise, Bilbo turned and sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to Thorin, and said nothing for a time. When he spoke again, his voice was flat: “I can’t do that.”
“You shall have help--”
“--I don’t care how much help I’ll have,” snapped Bilbo. “You don’t understand. I haven’t even left the Shire for twenty years. How could I ever make a journey like that? I wasn’t even brave enough to come see you, how could I ever go into the heart of--it’s impossible.”
“Bilbo, listen to me--”
“No.” Bilbo stood up, avoiding Thorin’s gaze. “There’s nothing to talk about. You’ll just have to find someone else. I’m--I’m going to take a walk now. I don’t want to talk about it,” he said as Thorin opened his mouth again, and bolted for the door.
He did not return that night, but the guards--who followed Bilbo at a discreet distance without Thorin having to ask--reported that he had gone to Théoden’s room after walking the halls alone for a long time, so Thorin hoped he had gotten some sleep, at least.
He was still sitting up and worrying when Dwalin entered the room, looking somewhat dazed. “I just left the Lady Galadriel’s rooms,” he said.
His thoughts still elsewhere, it took Thorin a moment to remember why Dwalin would be in the elf-queen’s quarters. “Did she accept your apology?” All the conflict and strife--elves and dwarves, Rohirrim and Gondorians--seemed small and petty, far away. All he wanted was a space of quiet, a time to drink viola tea with Bilbo and learn the names of all the ridiculously varied flowers he loved so much; a time to sleep in until the sun slanted through the windows, to stay awake and watch the stars. So soon, so soon Bilbo’s soul would pass beyond those stars, beyond the very circle of the world, where no dwarf born of the rock of Arda could follow...
Dwalin nodded, his eyes distant. “I apologized, and she accepted, and then we...just sat and talked. She spoke of the past, of her life before she left Valinor, and after. She spoke of--” He broke off. “I can’t explain it. It was like she had a great burden on her soul, the kind that can only be lessened by sharing it.” A wry smile. “Sometimes there are things that you can share better with a stranger than with those who know you well.” He frowned, remembering. “She spoke like someone in search of some kind of…” He waved his hands vaguely, searching for words. “Forgiveness?”
“Absolution?” Thorin suggested, and he beamed.
“That’s the word! I...wish I could have given it to her,” he said, looking rather ashamed. “She is...unusual.”
“She is,” Thorin agreed.
“Well,” Dwalin said with the air of a person shrugging off an uncomfortable topic. “Elves in Khazad-dûm, it’s a strange thing. We live in odd times, Thorin.” He clapped Thorin on the shoulder. “But I would never have passed up the chance to fight by your side, all these years.”
Thorin looked up from the fire, surprised. “Nor I yours, my friend.”
Dwalin smiled as if he were satisfied and left him, but sleep did not come for Thorin Oakenshield that night. He watched the flames in the fireplace consume the wood to coals which fell into ashes, and he thought of Bilbo Baggins.
“There is little left to tell of the recent history of the Ring,” Thorin said to the assembled people. He tried to meet Bilbo’s eyes, but Bilbo had pushed his chair further back into the shadows of Dwalin’s and was looking downward, his face wan and drawn. “As I said yesterday, I gave Bilbo Baggins the Ring in these very halls, to help him escape from Azog the Defiler. And he has carried it from then, keeping it safe in the heart of the Shire. He knew not that what he carried was any more than a magical trinket, but I was haunted by fears and doubts. I met with Gandalf the Grey to discuss my worries, and he agreed that there was reason to suspect the Ring was more than I had taken it to be at first. And so followed years of research, gathering up scraps from the libraries of Erebor, piecing together what I could. My suspicions were magnified a thousandfold when I wrote Bilbo and requested that he not bring the Ring with him the next time he came to Erebor. He was reluctant to agree--this in itself concerned me--but eventually he promised not to travel with the Ring. Shortly after that he had to cancel his next planned visit to Erebor, in 2951, because he fell ill with a terrible fever in the spring.”
“That spring--” Denethor broke off and swallowed. “That is the spring that Sauron declared himself openly once more in Mordor and the burning Eye was seen once more at the height of Barad-dûr. I remember it well.”
Thorin nodded. The timing of that fever had worried at him, a nagging fear that would not go away. “From then, Bilbo continued to plan to come to Erebor, but always something interfered with his plans. It became increasingly clear that he was making excuses not to leave the Shire. Indeed, that he was unable to leave the Shire. He had sworn not to travel with the Ring, and he could not bear to leave it behind. His promise to me clashed with the growing compulsion of the Ring, and so he--”
“--You mean that’s--” Everyone stared as Bilbo leaped to his feet, his voice sharp and agonized. “It was the Ring doing that to me? Keeping me from traveling? Keeping me from leaving home? Keeping me from--from being with you?” He was staring at Thorin, his mouth working as if he were struggling with nausea. “It wasn’t me? Thorin--it wasn’t me?”
“It was never you,” Thorin said gently, and Bilbo covered his mouth abruptly with a shaking hand. “That was why I knew it must be the Enemy’s Ring even before I found proof. For I knew only such an evil could hobble your great heart so.”
“Then I’m not--I’m not a coward,” Bilbo said, and for a moment relief and joy shone on his face so brightly that Thorin could hardly bear it. Then his eyes narrowed, his lips tightened, and his pale cheeks flushed red. “And that means this--” He wrenched the Ring from his pocket, held it out in a hand that trembled with fury, “This is what kept me alone and afraid, trapped in my hole? This is the reason I have been parted from you all these years? This is why we’ve lost so much time--so much time, Thorin!” His eyes brightened with pain and with a growing resolve. “Well then!”
He cast the Ring onto the council table; it fell with a dull thump like a single beat of a distant, angry heart.
“Then I will destroy the wretched thing,” cried Bilbo Baggins, “If I must cross the world alone to do it!”
Chapter Summary: Events at the Council of Khazad-dum reach a turning point, as does Bilbo Baggins of Bag End.
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin
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: 1700
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.
“Bilbo,” Thorin said after returning from Saruman’s quarters, as they turned down the bed, “What do you think we should do with the Ring?” The wizard’s words still echoed in his ears, promising a life with Bilbo free of the Ring--a long life, a happy and quiet life together. Surely they deserved that much?
Bilbo looked rather startled at the question. “I don’t know much about these big questions, you know. I just brought it here, and I count on the lot of you to figure out the best path. I--” He broke off, looking rather guilty. “Thorin, I have to tell you...before the Council began, I…”
He trailed off and Thorin waited patiently for him to finish; after a moment he said in a very small voice:
“I offered to give the Ring to Galadriel a few days ago.”
”What?” Thorin sputtered, and Bilbo grimaced.
“She didn’t take it.”
“Well, obviously not! But that you would offer such an artifact of power to an--” Remembering Galadriel’s words about Durin, her joy in his halls, Thorin broke off before he could say “elf-witch.” “What did she say?”
“She laughed,” Bilbo said. “She laughed two times. The first time it was--it was rather terrible, actually. I’m not sure I can describe it, and I’m not sure I want to. And then she stopped and laughed again, and it was sweet and sad and...and still rather terrible, but in a different way. She told me that no matter how good her intentions were, that she would still end up wielding it to the harm of Middle Earth, and so she rejected it and the power that it offered. So that won’t work. I suppose--” He swallowed. “I suppose I’ll have to give it to one of the wizards, or have it hidden somewhere.”
“What if there was a way to destroy it?”
Bilbo flinched. “Destroy it? Oh, what a pity,” he murmured. “But--but if it were necessary to defeat Sauron, I suppose it would have to be done. Can Gandalf do that?”
“Alas, no,” said Thorin. “Gandalf believes that it can only be destroyed by throwing it into the fires of Mount Doom, deep in the heart of Mordor.”
Bilbo’s eyes went wide. “Really? Well, um, whoever they choose to do that will have to be very brave. My goodness.”
Thorin couldn’t help a tired chuckle at his expression. “Gandalf and I both believe that anyone else to bear the Ring would risk corruption by Sauron. Galadriel senses it too, that is why she rejected it. The greater the power, the greater the corruption. It will have to be you, Bilbo.”
“What? No, that’s--you’ve carried it before, I could give it to you--”
Thorin recoiled a step, then mastered himself. “I have already proven far too susceptible. But I swear you shall not be alone--”
To his surprise, Bilbo turned and sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to Thorin, and said nothing for a time. When he spoke again, his voice was flat: “I can’t do that.”
“You shall have help--”
“--I don’t care how much help I’ll have,” snapped Bilbo. “You don’t understand. I haven’t even left the Shire for twenty years. How could I ever make a journey like that? I wasn’t even brave enough to come see you, how could I ever go into the heart of--it’s impossible.”
“Bilbo, listen to me--”
“No.” Bilbo stood up, avoiding Thorin’s gaze. “There’s nothing to talk about. You’ll just have to find someone else. I’m--I’m going to take a walk now. I don’t want to talk about it,” he said as Thorin opened his mouth again, and bolted for the door.
He did not return that night, but the guards--who followed Bilbo at a discreet distance without Thorin having to ask--reported that he had gone to Théoden’s room after walking the halls alone for a long time, so Thorin hoped he had gotten some sleep, at least.
He was still sitting up and worrying when Dwalin entered the room, looking somewhat dazed. “I just left the Lady Galadriel’s rooms,” he said.
His thoughts still elsewhere, it took Thorin a moment to remember why Dwalin would be in the elf-queen’s quarters. “Did she accept your apology?” All the conflict and strife--elves and dwarves, Rohirrim and Gondorians--seemed small and petty, far away. All he wanted was a space of quiet, a time to drink viola tea with Bilbo and learn the names of all the ridiculously varied flowers he loved so much; a time to sleep in until the sun slanted through the windows, to stay awake and watch the stars. So soon, so soon Bilbo’s soul would pass beyond those stars, beyond the very circle of the world, where no dwarf born of the rock of Arda could follow...
Dwalin nodded, his eyes distant. “I apologized, and she accepted, and then we...just sat and talked. She spoke of the past, of her life before she left Valinor, and after. She spoke of--” He broke off. “I can’t explain it. It was like she had a great burden on her soul, the kind that can only be lessened by sharing it.” A wry smile. “Sometimes there are things that you can share better with a stranger than with those who know you well.” He frowned, remembering. “She spoke like someone in search of some kind of…” He waved his hands vaguely, searching for words. “Forgiveness?”
“Absolution?” Thorin suggested, and he beamed.
“That’s the word! I...wish I could have given it to her,” he said, looking rather ashamed. “She is...unusual.”
“She is,” Thorin agreed.
“Well,” Dwalin said with the air of a person shrugging off an uncomfortable topic. “Elves in Khazad-dûm, it’s a strange thing. We live in odd times, Thorin.” He clapped Thorin on the shoulder. “But I would never have passed up the chance to fight by your side, all these years.”
Thorin looked up from the fire, surprised. “Nor I yours, my friend.”
Dwalin smiled as if he were satisfied and left him, but sleep did not come for Thorin Oakenshield that night. He watched the flames in the fireplace consume the wood to coals which fell into ashes, and he thought of Bilbo Baggins.
“There is little left to tell of the recent history of the Ring,” Thorin said to the assembled people. He tried to meet Bilbo’s eyes, but Bilbo had pushed his chair further back into the shadows of Dwalin’s and was looking downward, his face wan and drawn. “As I said yesterday, I gave Bilbo Baggins the Ring in these very halls, to help him escape from Azog the Defiler. And he has carried it from then, keeping it safe in the heart of the Shire. He knew not that what he carried was any more than a magical trinket, but I was haunted by fears and doubts. I met with Gandalf the Grey to discuss my worries, and he agreed that there was reason to suspect the Ring was more than I had taken it to be at first. And so followed years of research, gathering up scraps from the libraries of Erebor, piecing together what I could. My suspicions were magnified a thousandfold when I wrote Bilbo and requested that he not bring the Ring with him the next time he came to Erebor. He was reluctant to agree--this in itself concerned me--but eventually he promised not to travel with the Ring. Shortly after that he had to cancel his next planned visit to Erebor, in 2951, because he fell ill with a terrible fever in the spring.”
“That spring--” Denethor broke off and swallowed. “That is the spring that Sauron declared himself openly once more in Mordor and the burning Eye was seen once more at the height of Barad-dûr. I remember it well.”
Thorin nodded. The timing of that fever had worried at him, a nagging fear that would not go away. “From then, Bilbo continued to plan to come to Erebor, but always something interfered with his plans. It became increasingly clear that he was making excuses not to leave the Shire. Indeed, that he was unable to leave the Shire. He had sworn not to travel with the Ring, and he could not bear to leave it behind. His promise to me clashed with the growing compulsion of the Ring, and so he--”
“--You mean that’s--” Everyone stared as Bilbo leaped to his feet, his voice sharp and agonized. “It was the Ring doing that to me? Keeping me from traveling? Keeping me from leaving home? Keeping me from--from being with you?” He was staring at Thorin, his mouth working as if he were struggling with nausea. “It wasn’t me? Thorin--it wasn’t me?”
“It was never you,” Thorin said gently, and Bilbo covered his mouth abruptly with a shaking hand. “That was why I knew it must be the Enemy’s Ring even before I found proof. For I knew only such an evil could hobble your great heart so.”
“Then I’m not--I’m not a coward,” Bilbo said, and for a moment relief and joy shone on his face so brightly that Thorin could hardly bear it. Then his eyes narrowed, his lips tightened, and his pale cheeks flushed red. “And that means this--” He wrenched the Ring from his pocket, held it out in a hand that trembled with fury, “This is what kept me alone and afraid, trapped in my hole? This is the reason I have been parted from you all these years? This is why we’ve lost so much time--so much time, Thorin!” His eyes brightened with pain and with a growing resolve. “Well then!”
He cast the Ring onto the council table; it fell with a dull thump like a single beat of a distant, angry heart.
“Then I will destroy the wretched thing,” cried Bilbo Baggins, “If I must cross the world alone to do it!”