Clarity of Purpose, Chapter 11
Title: Clarity of Purpose, Chap. 11
Chapter Summary: Preparations begin for the Fellowship to leave Khazad-dum for the East. But events may force an earlier departure than planned...
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin, Galadriel, Saruman, Gandalf, Arwen, Denethor
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: 3000
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 Baggins dodged a dwarf carrying a bag of provisions and almost ran into another carrying a pile of blankets. Everywhere people were bustling around, making preparations for the Fellowship to leave Khazad-dûm and begin its journey. The word had gone out before the Council had even finished for the day, and already all of Khazad-dûm seemed to be involved in packing. Many dwarves smiled at Bilbo or waved as he made his way back to his quarters, and Bilbo was amazed at how fast news had apparently travelled.
His announcement that he intended to destroy the Ring had galvanized the Council. Théoden and the twin sons of Elrond had immediately leapt to their feet to pledge their support, followed a moment later by Denethor, who was clearly not to be outdone by either elves or Rohirrim. Legolas of the Greenwood had stood more slowly, but his voice had been steady and his eyes clear as he swore to stay by Bilbo’s side.
“Well, that’s five companions for Bilbo’s journey,” Gandalf had chuckled. “Elves and men together. As for dwarves--” His eyes had turned to Thorin, “--I assume we shall have a representative there as well?”
“Oh,” Bilbo stammered, “But Thorin is King of Erebor--he can’t go tramping all over Middle Earth with me--” He broke off, somehow ashamed of how hopeful he sounded.
Thorin shook his head gravely. “Erebor is in the capable hands of my nephews, and this quest is more important than any one kingdom. Besides which…” He had smiled and met Bilbo’s eyes as if no one else was in the room at all, “I will not be parted from you again, Bilbo.”
The memory of that smile and that look made Bilbo’s own lips curve again as he hurried back to his rooms. If Thorin were with him--well, the journey couldn’t be that bad.
Surely it was his imagination that the Ring had somehow grown slightly heavier since he had sworn to destroy it.
"Bilbo," said Thorin that evening, his voice oddly hesitant, "You truly desire this?"
Bilbo paused with his fork and knife poised over a particularly succulent mushroom pie. "Why wouldn't I? If there's one thing Dori has learned to make well, it's mushroom pie."
"Not--not the pie," said Thorin, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "The journey to Mordor, and the destruction of the Ring."
"Oh, that. I see." Bilbo put his utensils down, his appetite fading somewhat, and considered the question.
"You spoke so strongly and with such passion in the Council," Thorin said, "But I was not sure if perhaps you were just speaking so in support of my plan."
Bilbo picked up a crystal salt shaker and turned it over in his hands, watching the light play off it. "I meant it. I meant every word," he said. "I know it's not like me to speak so angrily, but I was angry--I am angry," he corrected himself. "We've lost so much time, and it's all the fault of this cursed Ring. We didn't have to be so alone, Thorin, and knowing that it wasn't my doing, wasn't my weakness--well, I feel strong enough to travel to the ends of the world, if you're with me. And together we'll put a stop to this nasty Sauron who makes so many peoples' lives a misery." He swallowed hard, looking down at his plate. "You see, if I can do this thing, if I can travel to Mordor, then I wasn't a coward at all. So I have to try."
"You are not a coward." Thorin's voice was vehement.
"And I know what you're afraid of," Bilbo went on, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "You think the Ring is the reason I don't seem much over fifty, even though I'm seventy-six. And you're afraid that if I destroy it, it will..." His voice faltered, and he swallowed before he continued, "It will kill me."
The words sounded horribly loud in the silence of the room; Bilbo felt rather than saw Thorin make a reflexive dwarven gesture of warding. "I do fear it," Thorin said.
"But Thorin-" Bilbo looked up and met his eyes. "I would rather die by your side, trying to destroy this horrid thing, than live for another day apart from you. I have had--" He choked slightly, went on, "I have had so many of those, Thorin. So many!"
Thorin looked at him gravely for a long time. Then he nodded, and some undefinable tension left his eyes. "Very well, then," he said. "Starting now, we enjoy every moment of our lives together to the fullest."
"Starting with this delicious mushroom pie," said Bilbo, just to hear Thorin's laugh ring out.
“We shall travel along the Ered Lithui, the Ash Mountains of the northern border of Mordor,” Thorin said, pointing to one of the many maps spread out on the table. “Then enter Mordor from the far eastern side. The deserts there are dry and unforgiving, but Sauron will not expect us to approach from the east. Then we shall travel across Nurn and make our way to Mount Doom, high atop the Plateau of Gorgoroth.”
“It is a long journey,” said Glorfindel, gazing at the maps.
“It is,” agreed Thorin. “But Sauron’s forces there are not what they were; he is still rebuilding. While his troops are many, they are not legion, for Gondor has kept them somewhat in check these past years--at great cost," he added to Denethor's grim nod. "Therefore we have time for stealth and caution rather than a desperate attempt to enter Mordor directly.”
“I still say the southern route is a better one,” said Denethor. “Harad is an inhospitable land, but for a time we will be traveling through Gondor and its outposts, able to rest and restock…”
“The soldiers of Gondor have been hard-pressed by the forces of Mordor in recent years,” said Arwen. “Perhaps if you were to travel south you could bring them some aid as well.”
There was an almost wistful quality to her voice, the same that had been there when she discussed Minas Tirith before, but Denethor flushed as though she had slapped him.
“I know well what you are insinuating, elf-maid,” he snapped. Arwen looked at him, surprised, but he continued: “You think that we of the race of Men will seek to take the Ring for our own, will fail to destroy it. But we of Gondor are stronger than you think! It was Isildur who failed the world in its time of need so long ago, and it is Isildur’s line who bears the guilt and shame of that weakness. The men of Minas Tirith have taken back Osgiliath, have driven back the forces of Mordor. We need not some magical trinket to prevail against evil!” He threw back his cloak to rest one hand on his sword and one on his horn, glaring around the room as if to fend off an attack. “It is Isildur’s blood which is corrupt, which lusts for power--not that of the men of Gondor. It is well that his line is extinct rather than be tempted by the Ring once more.”
Arwen’s face was pale, her hands curled into fists. Her brothers were watching her with worry on their faces, and Galadriel laid a swift hand on her arm. She took a deep breath and unclenched her hands; Bilbo could see small half-moon marks bitten into her palms. “Believe as you will, man of Gondor,” she said, and turned away.
“I have heard your thoughts,” said Thorin quickly, speaking into the silence. “But I believe still that the northern road is best.” He had stepped somehow into the role of leader of the party, and none gainsaid him now, although Denethor looked mutinous. “If we are in need of supplies, there are Easterling towns along the way--Erebor has no quarrel with the Easterlings,” he said swiftly as Denethor opened his mouth, “And I believe Bilbo and I could purchase what we need without interference while the rest of the party waited in the wilderness."
Bilbo tried to imagine shopping in an Easterling town. The mind boggled, remembering wild tales from the far east: olifaunts and lions and camelopards, fierce warriors and lands of unending sands. Would he--could he--travel to such places?
He set his jaw once more, remembering the walls of his hobbit-hole closing in on him, tethered to the Ring like a dog on a leash. Yes, he would go wherever he must.
He came back to full attention to hear Saruman discussing the dangers of the road ahead: “For I have traveled in the east, as even my friend Mithrandir has not,” he was saying. “I have been to Saynshar, capital of the Easterlings, and beyond, to the Orocarni Mountains and the shores of the Encircling Sea itself. This is no pleasure-jaunt, no camping trip for a sheltered hobbit.”
Thorin looked amused and annoyed in equal measure. “Bilbo Baggins is far from sheltered,” he said. “He has faced down goblins and orcs, has endured great hunger and privation, and--”
There was a sudden commotion in the hall outside the council chambers: the sound of heavy boots hurrying closer, of voices raised in surprise. Then the heavy stone doors were flung open, and in strode--
“Dís!” cried Bilbo in shock at the same time Thorin said “Sister?”
The dwarf-woman in the doorway planted her feet squarely and glared at her brother. “Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain,” she said, and her voice reminded Bilbo of when his mother had used to say his full name after he fell into a puddle and returned home muddy. “You have much to answer for!”
“Your majesty!” Another familiar bearded face peered around her apologetically. “Forgive me, sire, but I could not let her travel without a guard, and she would go seeking you…”
“Peace, Gimli,” said Balin. “And be welcome in Khazad-dûm, Lady Dís,” he added, bowing.
She curtseyed to him, it seemed to Bilbo rather grudgingly, her gaze still fixed on her brother. “Your note to my son left much to be desired in the way of details,” she growled. “I have been searching for you for some time now.”
“I--” Thorin put a hand to his brow, rubbing, “--I rather thought you would stay and advise your son in the leadership of Erebor.”
“Well, perhaps you should have left me a terse, peremptory note telling me so,” she said tartly. “As it was, you seemed the person more in need of help. And so I set off to find you--and Gimli insisted on accompanying me,” she added with a slight curve of her lips, “Although I misdoubt me if his motives were not to see more of the world rather than protect me.”
”My lady!” Gimli’s voice was horrified; she touched him on the shoulder with a smile and he subsided.
“And so I find here you here in Khazad-dûm with--” For the first time her eyes left her brother to take in the rest of the room, and her dark eyebrows rose in surprise, “--with a roomful of elves and humans?” Then she spotted Bilbo, standing halfway behind a great stone chair; her smile of recognition was polite but not warm. “And Mr. Baggins. I suspected whatever caused my brother to abandon Erebor would have you at the base.”
Bilbo gave her a small, weak wave as Thorin said, “Dís, Gimli, there were events I could not ignore, events that threaten not just the Lonely Mountain, but all of Middle Earth.”
She was glaring at the maps on the council table. “Brother, what mad quest are you setting off on now? Bad enough that you spent so many years wandering the world away from Erebor. It is clear you need someone to keep an eye on you.”
“Bad enough that this expedition is being led by a dwarf,” said Legolas. “We need no more in the party.”
“There seem quite a few more elves in the group than strictly necessary,” growled Gimli, looking around the room. “Perhaps their ranks should be thinned a bit?”
There was a general grating of wood and metal as axes, swords, and arrows were adjusted.
“Oh, by the hairy feet of my grandsires!” Bilbo said in pure exasperation. “Very well, Thorin may be the leader of this quest, but it is apparently going nowhere without me, and I say I do not stir a step outside these doors until you Big People--and yes, dwarves are Relatively Big People,” he added as Thorin opened his mouth, “--stop behaving like giant babies.” Everyone was staring at him; he cleared his throat but did not back down. “Théoden and Denethor are the only Men here, and so it makes sense to include them. Thorin is the leader, so you’re not leaving him behind. Legolas, Elladan, and Elrohir make three Elves, so there’s still space for two more dwarves to keep it even, as I see it.” He turned to Gimli and Dís. “That is, if you’re willing to travel with us once you know where we’re going.”
Dís’s eyes were narrow, looking at Bilbo. “It seems my brother has much to explain to me.”
“Well I, for one, do not need to hear that history lesson again,” announced Dwalin. “I say the rest of us break for dinner!”
There was general approval of this statement and a widespread scraping of chairs on the floor, sounds Bilbo much preferred to weaponry. “Shall I fetch some food for the three of you?” he asked Thorin. Thorin smiled slightly and nodded without turning his attention from his sister.
“The tale begins thousands of years ago, in the elven lands of Eregion,” Bilbo heard him say as the door shut between them, along with the sound of Gimli’s faint sigh.
Bilbo was hurrying back to the council chambers with a hamper full of sausages and ale, whistling to himself--he felt so much cheerier lately, which was rather mad considering he was helping plan a journey to Mordor--when a bony hand landed on his shoulder, causing him to yelp a bit. He looked up into the dark, deep eyes of the wizard Saruman and suppressed another yelp.
“Mr. Baggins,” Saruman intoned, inclining his head. “May I speak with you a moment?”
“Brother, this is suicide,” said Dís, glaring at the maps. “Even if you could cross the plains of the Easterlings in the company of elves and men, even if Mordor manages to overlook your presence just slightly to the north, even if you can traverse the Desert of Nurn to enter Mordor--then you merely have to make your way through Nurn, a land crawling with orcs and enslaved thralls of Sauron. Oh, and then you must ascend the Plateau of Gorgoroth and climb Mount Doom!” She shook her head. “You will throw away all our lives.”
Thorin winced at her pronoun. “You are not--”
“--You will need more than one dwarf in your party if you hope to even make it halfway,” Gimli said. “Perhaps with three of us you will make it all the way to Mordor before you perish.”
Dís looked at him unsmiling, but her eyes were affectionate. “I will not leave you to face this alone, Thorin. My sons are defending Erebor; I shall defend you.”
There was a hesitant tap at the door and a hamper appeared around the corner, followed by Bilbo’s curly head. “I brought some food,” he said.
Dís took the hamper from him and bowed deeply, causing Bilbo to wave his hands in the air in agitation and say “It’s just some sandwiches.”
“I am apologizing, Mr. Baggins,” said Dís. “My brother has explained why you did not come to see us for so long, and I regret my harsh words even more now--although truly, I have regretted them many times since I sent them. It is unfortunate my brother did not see fit to explain your constrained situation sooner,” she added with a pointed look.
Thorin was about to explain once again about the need for secrecy and the uncertain information, but something in Bilbo’s expression stopped him. “What’s wrong, Bilbo?”
“I just had a very strange conversation,” Bilbo said, opening the hamper and handing food to the dwarves. “With Saruman. He...urged me to give him the Ring.”
Thorin’s skin prickled. “Did he? I had a similar conversation with him.” He offered me that which I desire above all things: a life with you, he did not add.
“He made me uncomfortable,” Bilbo said, and Thorin had the impression he was making a large understatement. “He was...upset. I--”
He broke off as Gandalf and Glorfindel came into the room, followed by the other elves, dwarves, and men, and he bit his lip and fell silent as the council began anew. Legolas and Gimli glowered at each other a bit, but otherwise the plans continued smoothly: discussions of what types of mounts to bring, and how much provisioning was needed, and a tentative timetable for their departure. "I would say it will take us at least a month to get everything together," said Balin. "You wouldn't want to go rushing off to Mordor unprepared, after all!"
"Where is Saruman?" asked Thorin, noticing for the first time that the wizard had never returned.
Gandalf frowned and shot a nearly-imperceptible glance at Galadriel. "I do not know. Did he return to his chambers?"
"And why is it so hot?" complained Elladan, tugging at his shirt collar. "Don't you dwarves have some way to control the temperature in these caves?"
Balin frowned. “It is unusually warm…” he murmured.
Thorin stood. “Where is Saruman?” he repeated, hearing the sudden tension in his voice, feeling his heartbeat thud against his breastbone.
That was when the first distant screams started to break out.
All the members of the Council stared wildly at each other--all but Galadriel. The Lady of Lothlórien stood then, and the light in her eyes was fierce and beautiful, and her face was utterly calm.
“Durin’s Bane walks once more the halls of Khazad-dûm,” she announced.
“The Balrog has awoken.”
Chapter Summary: Preparations begin for the Fellowship to leave Khazad-dum for the East. But events may force an earlier departure than planned...
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin, Galadriel, Saruman, Gandalf, Arwen, Denethor
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: 3000
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 Baggins dodged a dwarf carrying a bag of provisions and almost ran into another carrying a pile of blankets. Everywhere people were bustling around, making preparations for the Fellowship to leave Khazad-dûm and begin its journey. The word had gone out before the Council had even finished for the day, and already all of Khazad-dûm seemed to be involved in packing. Many dwarves smiled at Bilbo or waved as he made his way back to his quarters, and Bilbo was amazed at how fast news had apparently travelled.
His announcement that he intended to destroy the Ring had galvanized the Council. Théoden and the twin sons of Elrond had immediately leapt to their feet to pledge their support, followed a moment later by Denethor, who was clearly not to be outdone by either elves or Rohirrim. Legolas of the Greenwood had stood more slowly, but his voice had been steady and his eyes clear as he swore to stay by Bilbo’s side.
“Well, that’s five companions for Bilbo’s journey,” Gandalf had chuckled. “Elves and men together. As for dwarves--” His eyes had turned to Thorin, “--I assume we shall have a representative there as well?”
“Oh,” Bilbo stammered, “But Thorin is King of Erebor--he can’t go tramping all over Middle Earth with me--” He broke off, somehow ashamed of how hopeful he sounded.
Thorin shook his head gravely. “Erebor is in the capable hands of my nephews, and this quest is more important than any one kingdom. Besides which…” He had smiled and met Bilbo’s eyes as if no one else was in the room at all, “I will not be parted from you again, Bilbo.”
The memory of that smile and that look made Bilbo’s own lips curve again as he hurried back to his rooms. If Thorin were with him--well, the journey couldn’t be that bad.
Surely it was his imagination that the Ring had somehow grown slightly heavier since he had sworn to destroy it.
"Bilbo," said Thorin that evening, his voice oddly hesitant, "You truly desire this?"
Bilbo paused with his fork and knife poised over a particularly succulent mushroom pie. "Why wouldn't I? If there's one thing Dori has learned to make well, it's mushroom pie."
"Not--not the pie," said Thorin, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "The journey to Mordor, and the destruction of the Ring."
"Oh, that. I see." Bilbo put his utensils down, his appetite fading somewhat, and considered the question.
"You spoke so strongly and with such passion in the Council," Thorin said, "But I was not sure if perhaps you were just speaking so in support of my plan."
Bilbo picked up a crystal salt shaker and turned it over in his hands, watching the light play off it. "I meant it. I meant every word," he said. "I know it's not like me to speak so angrily, but I was angry--I am angry," he corrected himself. "We've lost so much time, and it's all the fault of this cursed Ring. We didn't have to be so alone, Thorin, and knowing that it wasn't my doing, wasn't my weakness--well, I feel strong enough to travel to the ends of the world, if you're with me. And together we'll put a stop to this nasty Sauron who makes so many peoples' lives a misery." He swallowed hard, looking down at his plate. "You see, if I can do this thing, if I can travel to Mordor, then I wasn't a coward at all. So I have to try."
"You are not a coward." Thorin's voice was vehement.
"And I know what you're afraid of," Bilbo went on, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "You think the Ring is the reason I don't seem much over fifty, even though I'm seventy-six. And you're afraid that if I destroy it, it will..." His voice faltered, and he swallowed before he continued, "It will kill me."
The words sounded horribly loud in the silence of the room; Bilbo felt rather than saw Thorin make a reflexive dwarven gesture of warding. "I do fear it," Thorin said.
"But Thorin-" Bilbo looked up and met his eyes. "I would rather die by your side, trying to destroy this horrid thing, than live for another day apart from you. I have had--" He choked slightly, went on, "I have had so many of those, Thorin. So many!"
Thorin looked at him gravely for a long time. Then he nodded, and some undefinable tension left his eyes. "Very well, then," he said. "Starting now, we enjoy every moment of our lives together to the fullest."
"Starting with this delicious mushroom pie," said Bilbo, just to hear Thorin's laugh ring out.
“We shall travel along the Ered Lithui, the Ash Mountains of the northern border of Mordor,” Thorin said, pointing to one of the many maps spread out on the table. “Then enter Mordor from the far eastern side. The deserts there are dry and unforgiving, but Sauron will not expect us to approach from the east. Then we shall travel across Nurn and make our way to Mount Doom, high atop the Plateau of Gorgoroth.”
“It is a long journey,” said Glorfindel, gazing at the maps.
“It is,” agreed Thorin. “But Sauron’s forces there are not what they were; he is still rebuilding. While his troops are many, they are not legion, for Gondor has kept them somewhat in check these past years--at great cost," he added to Denethor's grim nod. "Therefore we have time for stealth and caution rather than a desperate attempt to enter Mordor directly.”
“I still say the southern route is a better one,” said Denethor. “Harad is an inhospitable land, but for a time we will be traveling through Gondor and its outposts, able to rest and restock…”
“The soldiers of Gondor have been hard-pressed by the forces of Mordor in recent years,” said Arwen. “Perhaps if you were to travel south you could bring them some aid as well.”
There was an almost wistful quality to her voice, the same that had been there when she discussed Minas Tirith before, but Denethor flushed as though she had slapped him.
“I know well what you are insinuating, elf-maid,” he snapped. Arwen looked at him, surprised, but he continued: “You think that we of the race of Men will seek to take the Ring for our own, will fail to destroy it. But we of Gondor are stronger than you think! It was Isildur who failed the world in its time of need so long ago, and it is Isildur’s line who bears the guilt and shame of that weakness. The men of Minas Tirith have taken back Osgiliath, have driven back the forces of Mordor. We need not some magical trinket to prevail against evil!” He threw back his cloak to rest one hand on his sword and one on his horn, glaring around the room as if to fend off an attack. “It is Isildur’s blood which is corrupt, which lusts for power--not that of the men of Gondor. It is well that his line is extinct rather than be tempted by the Ring once more.”
Arwen’s face was pale, her hands curled into fists. Her brothers were watching her with worry on their faces, and Galadriel laid a swift hand on her arm. She took a deep breath and unclenched her hands; Bilbo could see small half-moon marks bitten into her palms. “Believe as you will, man of Gondor,” she said, and turned away.
“I have heard your thoughts,” said Thorin quickly, speaking into the silence. “But I believe still that the northern road is best.” He had stepped somehow into the role of leader of the party, and none gainsaid him now, although Denethor looked mutinous. “If we are in need of supplies, there are Easterling towns along the way--Erebor has no quarrel with the Easterlings,” he said swiftly as Denethor opened his mouth, “And I believe Bilbo and I could purchase what we need without interference while the rest of the party waited in the wilderness."
Bilbo tried to imagine shopping in an Easterling town. The mind boggled, remembering wild tales from the far east: olifaunts and lions and camelopards, fierce warriors and lands of unending sands. Would he--could he--travel to such places?
He set his jaw once more, remembering the walls of his hobbit-hole closing in on him, tethered to the Ring like a dog on a leash. Yes, he would go wherever he must.
He came back to full attention to hear Saruman discussing the dangers of the road ahead: “For I have traveled in the east, as even my friend Mithrandir has not,” he was saying. “I have been to Saynshar, capital of the Easterlings, and beyond, to the Orocarni Mountains and the shores of the Encircling Sea itself. This is no pleasure-jaunt, no camping trip for a sheltered hobbit.”
Thorin looked amused and annoyed in equal measure. “Bilbo Baggins is far from sheltered,” he said. “He has faced down goblins and orcs, has endured great hunger and privation, and--”
There was a sudden commotion in the hall outside the council chambers: the sound of heavy boots hurrying closer, of voices raised in surprise. Then the heavy stone doors were flung open, and in strode--
“Dís!” cried Bilbo in shock at the same time Thorin said “Sister?”
The dwarf-woman in the doorway planted her feet squarely and glared at her brother. “Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain,” she said, and her voice reminded Bilbo of when his mother had used to say his full name after he fell into a puddle and returned home muddy. “You have much to answer for!”
“Your majesty!” Another familiar bearded face peered around her apologetically. “Forgive me, sire, but I could not let her travel without a guard, and she would go seeking you…”
“Peace, Gimli,” said Balin. “And be welcome in Khazad-dûm, Lady Dís,” he added, bowing.
She curtseyed to him, it seemed to Bilbo rather grudgingly, her gaze still fixed on her brother. “Your note to my son left much to be desired in the way of details,” she growled. “I have been searching for you for some time now.”
“I--” Thorin put a hand to his brow, rubbing, “--I rather thought you would stay and advise your son in the leadership of Erebor.”
“Well, perhaps you should have left me a terse, peremptory note telling me so,” she said tartly. “As it was, you seemed the person more in need of help. And so I set off to find you--and Gimli insisted on accompanying me,” she added with a slight curve of her lips, “Although I misdoubt me if his motives were not to see more of the world rather than protect me.”
”My lady!” Gimli’s voice was horrified; she touched him on the shoulder with a smile and he subsided.
“And so I find here you here in Khazad-dûm with--” For the first time her eyes left her brother to take in the rest of the room, and her dark eyebrows rose in surprise, “--with a roomful of elves and humans?” Then she spotted Bilbo, standing halfway behind a great stone chair; her smile of recognition was polite but not warm. “And Mr. Baggins. I suspected whatever caused my brother to abandon Erebor would have you at the base.”
Bilbo gave her a small, weak wave as Thorin said, “Dís, Gimli, there were events I could not ignore, events that threaten not just the Lonely Mountain, but all of Middle Earth.”
She was glaring at the maps on the council table. “Brother, what mad quest are you setting off on now? Bad enough that you spent so many years wandering the world away from Erebor. It is clear you need someone to keep an eye on you.”
“Bad enough that this expedition is being led by a dwarf,” said Legolas. “We need no more in the party.”
“There seem quite a few more elves in the group than strictly necessary,” growled Gimli, looking around the room. “Perhaps their ranks should be thinned a bit?”
There was a general grating of wood and metal as axes, swords, and arrows were adjusted.
“Oh, by the hairy feet of my grandsires!” Bilbo said in pure exasperation. “Very well, Thorin may be the leader of this quest, but it is apparently going nowhere without me, and I say I do not stir a step outside these doors until you Big People--and yes, dwarves are Relatively Big People,” he added as Thorin opened his mouth, “--stop behaving like giant babies.” Everyone was staring at him; he cleared his throat but did not back down. “Théoden and Denethor are the only Men here, and so it makes sense to include them. Thorin is the leader, so you’re not leaving him behind. Legolas, Elladan, and Elrohir make three Elves, so there’s still space for two more dwarves to keep it even, as I see it.” He turned to Gimli and Dís. “That is, if you’re willing to travel with us once you know where we’re going.”
Dís’s eyes were narrow, looking at Bilbo. “It seems my brother has much to explain to me.”
“Well I, for one, do not need to hear that history lesson again,” announced Dwalin. “I say the rest of us break for dinner!”
There was general approval of this statement and a widespread scraping of chairs on the floor, sounds Bilbo much preferred to weaponry. “Shall I fetch some food for the three of you?” he asked Thorin. Thorin smiled slightly and nodded without turning his attention from his sister.
“The tale begins thousands of years ago, in the elven lands of Eregion,” Bilbo heard him say as the door shut between them, along with the sound of Gimli’s faint sigh.
Bilbo was hurrying back to the council chambers with a hamper full of sausages and ale, whistling to himself--he felt so much cheerier lately, which was rather mad considering he was helping plan a journey to Mordor--when a bony hand landed on his shoulder, causing him to yelp a bit. He looked up into the dark, deep eyes of the wizard Saruman and suppressed another yelp.
“Mr. Baggins,” Saruman intoned, inclining his head. “May I speak with you a moment?”
“Brother, this is suicide,” said Dís, glaring at the maps. “Even if you could cross the plains of the Easterlings in the company of elves and men, even if Mordor manages to overlook your presence just slightly to the north, even if you can traverse the Desert of Nurn to enter Mordor--then you merely have to make your way through Nurn, a land crawling with orcs and enslaved thralls of Sauron. Oh, and then you must ascend the Plateau of Gorgoroth and climb Mount Doom!” She shook her head. “You will throw away all our lives.”
Thorin winced at her pronoun. “You are not--”
“--You will need more than one dwarf in your party if you hope to even make it halfway,” Gimli said. “Perhaps with three of us you will make it all the way to Mordor before you perish.”
Dís looked at him unsmiling, but her eyes were affectionate. “I will not leave you to face this alone, Thorin. My sons are defending Erebor; I shall defend you.”
There was a hesitant tap at the door and a hamper appeared around the corner, followed by Bilbo’s curly head. “I brought some food,” he said.
Dís took the hamper from him and bowed deeply, causing Bilbo to wave his hands in the air in agitation and say “It’s just some sandwiches.”
“I am apologizing, Mr. Baggins,” said Dís. “My brother has explained why you did not come to see us for so long, and I regret my harsh words even more now--although truly, I have regretted them many times since I sent them. It is unfortunate my brother did not see fit to explain your constrained situation sooner,” she added with a pointed look.
Thorin was about to explain once again about the need for secrecy and the uncertain information, but something in Bilbo’s expression stopped him. “What’s wrong, Bilbo?”
“I just had a very strange conversation,” Bilbo said, opening the hamper and handing food to the dwarves. “With Saruman. He...urged me to give him the Ring.”
Thorin’s skin prickled. “Did he? I had a similar conversation with him.” He offered me that which I desire above all things: a life with you, he did not add.
“He made me uncomfortable,” Bilbo said, and Thorin had the impression he was making a large understatement. “He was...upset. I--”
He broke off as Gandalf and Glorfindel came into the room, followed by the other elves, dwarves, and men, and he bit his lip and fell silent as the council began anew. Legolas and Gimli glowered at each other a bit, but otherwise the plans continued smoothly: discussions of what types of mounts to bring, and how much provisioning was needed, and a tentative timetable for their departure. "I would say it will take us at least a month to get everything together," said Balin. "You wouldn't want to go rushing off to Mordor unprepared, after all!"
"Where is Saruman?" asked Thorin, noticing for the first time that the wizard had never returned.
Gandalf frowned and shot a nearly-imperceptible glance at Galadriel. "I do not know. Did he return to his chambers?"
"And why is it so hot?" complained Elladan, tugging at his shirt collar. "Don't you dwarves have some way to control the temperature in these caves?"
Balin frowned. “It is unusually warm…” he murmured.
Thorin stood. “Where is Saruman?” he repeated, hearing the sudden tension in his voice, feeling his heartbeat thud against his breastbone.
That was when the first distant screams started to break out.
All the members of the Council stared wildly at each other--all but Galadriel. The Lady of Lothlórien stood then, and the light in her eyes was fierce and beautiful, and her face was utterly calm.
“Durin’s Bane walks once more the halls of Khazad-dûm,” she announced.
“The Balrog has awoken.”