Clarity of Vision, Chapter 7
Title: Clarity of Vision, Chapter 7
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Fíli, Kíli, Thorin, Dwalin, Balin
Fandom: Hobbit
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 2400
Story Summary: In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent--from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond--with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.
Chapter Summary: The party arrives at the ancient city of Annúminas, where Bilbo gets some surprising lessons in Dwarvish genealogy.
The sun was setting as they came through the Evendim Pass and looked down upon the valley. Lake Evendim nestled at the base of the hills, deep blue in the shadows cast by the downs, and Bilbo could see the Baranduin winding southward from it, disappearing into the haze of distance toward the gentle fields of the Shire.
Bilbo looked south and his heart ached. It was nearly his birthday. Were people searching for him? Was anyone worried about him? When would he see his home again?
Thorin looked back at him impatiently and Bilbo hoisted his pack once more and hurried along the trail.
They camped at the edge of the lake, its gentle splashing a constant murmur under their voices. "I've never seen so much water in one place," said Bilbo to Kíli as they set up their bedrolls.
"It's much bigger than Long Lake, that's for certain," said Kíli. "I hear the ocean is bigger still."
"Hard to imagine," said Bilbo, and heard Thorin snort nearby in the twilight. "Have you seen the sea?" he asked the half-seen presence.
"We spent time in the Enedwaith, in the ruins of Lond Daer, once a great harbor or the Númenorians." There was a rustling noise as Thorin laid down. "The sound of waves on the rocks was always there, and the sea stretched out beyond the horizon, an infinite blue." Silence fell for so long that Bilbo decided he had fallen asleep, and closed his eyes himself. Nearly asleep, he was startled to hear Thorin say softly, as if to himself:
"It was beautiful."
: : :
They were woken by rain in the morning, a damp and misty drizzle that softened the outlines of things and faded the landscape into watercolors. The dwarves complained about the damp, but Bilbo found it oddly soothing as they trudged along the edge of the lake. He even decided not to point out that if he still had his umbrella, he could have shared it around. Kíli brought down a duck as they walked, and Bilbo's spirits rose more: if they could find shelter in the evening, he could cook a proper meal for the first time in days.
The cobblestone path was broken with weeds and missing stones, but long stretches were smooth and easy to walk. Willows lined the banks of the lake, trailing long branches with golden autumn leaves in the water. Fíli and Kíli started to sing a song about a lost diamond, and Dwalin and Balin joined in at the chorus. Thorin didn't sing, but the set of his shoulders seemed marginally less grim as they wound south and west along the lake.
They crossed the Baranduin over a crumbling bridge, covered with scarlet ivy. Ruined pillars and broken statues started to appear in the fog, fragments of walls connecting nothing. Yet Bilbo got no sense of menace or weight from Annúminas, no feeling of the malice that Fornost had reeked of. Only sadness and loss like mist, gentle and wistful.
Finally, late in the afternoon, they found themselves in the ruins of a city. Few buildings were still intact: golden flowers overgrew marble walls that were more graceful, less brutally strong than the architecture of Fornost. On the edge of the lake was a large building with a domed roof of some blue stone, now cracked and fallen in. "The library," said Thorin, nodding toward it. "Let us find a place to set up camp and we can enter it in the morning."
As the dwarves unpacked, Kíli held up the plucked duck to Bilbo with a hopeful expression. "If we start a fire, do you think...?"
"I'll do my best," said Bilbo, wishing he had some currant jam or tomatoes. "Did you notice those blackberries by the side of the road just before the gate? Could you get me some?"
Within hours he had a roasted duck with blackberry and thyme sauce that he thought was quite nice, if he did say so himself. The dwarves seemed to agree, digging in with a gusto that would have been complimentary if it hadn't been slightly alarming. Only Thorin seemed unimpressed, picking at his meat and staring at the distant azure roof. Had you expected raptures of delight, Bilbo Baggins? From him? Bilbo firmly put his unreasonable disappointment away and tucked into his own meal, enjoying it enough for both of them.
: : :
The next few days were quiet, with a burst of clear autumn weather that gave them deep blue skies and cool crisp days. There were no undead haunting the willow-lined streets of Annúminas, no danger to guard against, and everyone's spirits rose. Fíli and Kíli hunted and explored, Bilbo cooked and learned combat, Balin and Dwalin fished and bemoaned the lack of a nearby tavern.
And Thorin lost himself in the library of Annúminas.
It was in much worse condition than the warded library of Fornost: open to the sky in places, time and weather leaving little beyond scraps and shreds of tomes. Mice and insects haunted the shelves, and the wind soughed through cracks in the walls. Yet there was more than enough to keep him busy and out of everyone's way, especially the hobbit's.
Why he was avoiding Bilbo he wasn't exactly sure. The look of hurt on his face when Thorin had threatened him kept rising up in his mind's eye at odd moments, which was annoying since Mr. Baggins was the one who had insulted the entire Line of Durin. Thorin huffed out a breath that lifted dust into sparking motes before his eyes and focused on another piece of crabbed Elvish script.
He returned to the campsite when it grew too dark to see, finding the rest of his party sitting around the fire and singing a dwarvish birthday song. "It's Mr. Bagg--I mean Bilbo's birthday!" said Kíli as he sat down.
"May your beard grow ever longer." Thorin said the traditional words absently as he sat down and began to eat, and Kíli nudged Fíli and snickered at the bemused expression on Bilbo's face.
"It would have been a lovely party," Bilbo said wistfully. "I'd hired jugglers and ordered so many flowers."
Thorin took a bite of his dinner--trout this evening, and even better than Bilbo's usual meals, although he was hardly going to say so--and said nothing.
"Do you have parties on your birthdays in Erebor?" Bilbo asked.
"Usually we have small parties, just for the family," Fíli said.
Kíli grimaced. "Yes, that's a lot better than--"
"--Don't," said Fíli.
"I'll tell them if I want to," said Kíli, looking angry at his brother for the first time Thorin could remember. "I think Uncle Thorin should know that--"
"Know what?" Thorin asked.
Kíli looked at Fíli, who looked away, his color high. "Well, Fíli's last birthday, Grandfather decided he wanted to make it a big public affair. You know, with pronouncements and ceremony and all that folderol. Fíli said he didn't want it, but Grandfather was...well, he insisted."
Fíli was still staring off into the darkness. Beside him, Bilbo looked confused. "Big public affair?" he said.
"You know," muttered Kíli. "How Fíli is 'the future of Erebor' and all that. Parade him in front of everyone."
"Like some kind of show stud or something," Fíli said bitterly.
Bilbo opened his mouth and closed it again, his forehead furrowing.
"Well, Fíli kind of...didn't attend," said Kíli. "And Grandfather, he...he sent guards to make him come. Dragged him in front of everyone and delivered this huge tirade about how such behavior was unworthy of the great-grandson of King Thrór--"
"Uh," said Bilbo, a small sound of surprise, as if someone had punched him in the stomach.
"--And how perhaps he was unworthy to be in line for the throne, and..." Kíli's voice faltered.
"And how I took after other members of my family who were no longer to be named in the halls of Erebor," Fíli burst out angrily. "And I told him right in front of everyone that I'd rather be like my Uncle Thorin than anyone in the world."
Thorin felt a wave of startled affection roll over him at Fíli's words. "Fíli--" he started.
Bilbo stood up abruptly, staring straight ahead. "Oh," he said, his face very pale. His mouth twisted. "Oh my."
Then he turned and bolted into the shadows without another word.
"What's wrong with him?" Dwalin said. "Is he sick?" He looked down at his plate. "Is the trout bad?"
Thorin snorted. "Talking about the Line of Durin seems to discomfit the hobbit. Give him time to recover himself." But when they finished their meal and there was still no sign of him, Thorin began to grow concerned. Annúminas seemed safe, but perhaps he'd managed to get into trouble anyway? Was he trapped in some abandoned well somewhere, or fallen into the lake?
"I'll go fetch the hobbit back," he said, standing.
It wasn't hard to follow the path Bilbo had taken; in fact the footprints he had left behind indicated both hurry and a complete lack of care for where he was walking. Thorin finally found him sitting on a stone at the edge of the lake, looking out at the dark water.
"Mr. Baggins," he said as he walked up behind him, "Do you plan to return to camp tonight or--"
"--I am so sorry," said Bilbo, jumping to his feet. "Thorin. I am so sorry."
Thorin stopped dead. In the pale moonlight, Bilbo's face was drawn with distress. "What?"
"I can't believe that I--the things I said--no wonder--" Bilbo shook his head vigorously, holding up a hand as if to forestall any words from Thorin, and took a deep breath. "I said terrible, hurtful things to you in Fornost, and I must beg your pardon. I really must," he said in a rush.
"Why are you apologizing to me now?" Thorin said. "And why did you say them at all, if you're so sorry about it?"
"I didn't know!" Bilbo wailed. "Everyone talked about Regent Thráin, and you talked about your father, but no one ever--I mean, I had no idea--and then I said--can you ever forgive me?"
Thorin stood for a long moment, staring at Bilbo. Then he drew a deep breath into his lungs. Bilbo flinched.
"Fíli? Kíli!" Thorin bellowed.
: : :
Soon Bilbo was poring over a family tree hastily scratched in the dirt and listening with one ear to Thorin scolding Fíli and Kíli.
"I'm sure we told him, Uncle!" Fíli was protesting. "We told him all about how you angered Prince-Regent Thráin--"
"--how he angered his father," Bilbo. "You failed to mention his father was the Regent!"
Fíli looked confused. "But everybody knows that," he said.
"Well, I didn't! How could I? And you said his father told him to leave home," complained Bilbo. "You didn't say he was formally banished from the Kingdom of Erebor!"
"Well, Erebor is home," explained Kíli.
Bilbo looked up from the family tree to glare at him. "You know, in the Shire we have calling cards that make these things clear, and we do proper introductions rather than simply growling at people for banging into you."
Fíli shrugged. "I guess it just seemed obvious to us."
"To be fair to the lads," said Dwalin, "We do tend to just take it for granted."
On the other side of the fire, Thorin shook his head. He seemed to be finding all of this rather amusing, to Bilbo's amazement. "Apparently I do not seem particularly regal."
Bilbo nodded triumphantly. "Exactly! I mean..." He narrowed his eyes at the chuckling Thorin. "You know what I mean!" He whacked his forehead with his hand, looking down at the lines on the ground, seeing the connections moving downward from Thrór to Thráin and then to Thorin and finally his nephews. "Of course. Now I see why it's so important to find--" He glimpsed a flash of alarm on Thorin's face and broke off, suddenly remembering Thorin's low voice in the library of Fornost: there is more that they do not know. "I mean, if he's your grandfather, it's only natural you'd do anything to find a way to cure him."
Thorin's quick look of relief and gratitude was gone almost before Bilbo was sure he'd seen it. "I will not leave him to suffer if I can find a way to restore his mind to him."
"But your father--why--" Bilbo stammered to a halt, fearful of offending once more, but Thorin merely looked grim.
"My father claims that King Thrór is beyond hope. He...suggested it would be best to let the King wander into the depths of Erebor in his delirium, to vanish into the labyrinths below. One day my grandfather was...not well." Thorin's eyes were shadowed, and Bilbo suspected that although this was the truth, there was much Thorin was leaving undetailed. "In my efforts to keep him from harming himself...my father found witnesses to claim that I was assaulting the King. He stripped me of my rank in front of all the dwarves of Erebor and banished me from the Lonely Mountain."
Dwalin leaned forward into the firelight. "Óin and Glóin will safeguard the King, Thorin. They are loyal."
"You still have allies within Erebor," agreed Balin quietly. "And without."
"You have my bow, Uncle!" cried Kíli.
"And my knives," added Fíli.
"The true Heir shall return to Erebor and heal our King," Dwalin said.
Bilbo cleared his throat and looked away, feeling awkward in his silence. But what did he have to offer a prince on a quest: his lemon drops? His viola tea? Besides, he'd be going home to the Shire soon, and they'd be going on without him. He was just a small burden they had picked up for a time. He wasn't part of their story.
For the first time, as he reminded himself of that, he felt a tiny pang twist beneath his breastbone.
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Fíli, Kíli, Thorin, Dwalin, Balin
Fandom: Hobbit
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 2400
Story Summary: In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent--from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond--with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.
Chapter Summary: The party arrives at the ancient city of Annúminas, where Bilbo gets some surprising lessons in Dwarvish genealogy.
The sun was setting as they came through the Evendim Pass and looked down upon the valley. Lake Evendim nestled at the base of the hills, deep blue in the shadows cast by the downs, and Bilbo could see the Baranduin winding southward from it, disappearing into the haze of distance toward the gentle fields of the Shire.
Bilbo looked south and his heart ached. It was nearly his birthday. Were people searching for him? Was anyone worried about him? When would he see his home again?
Thorin looked back at him impatiently and Bilbo hoisted his pack once more and hurried along the trail.
They camped at the edge of the lake, its gentle splashing a constant murmur under their voices. "I've never seen so much water in one place," said Bilbo to Kíli as they set up their bedrolls.
"It's much bigger than Long Lake, that's for certain," said Kíli. "I hear the ocean is bigger still."
"Hard to imagine," said Bilbo, and heard Thorin snort nearby in the twilight. "Have you seen the sea?" he asked the half-seen presence.
"We spent time in the Enedwaith, in the ruins of Lond Daer, once a great harbor or the Númenorians." There was a rustling noise as Thorin laid down. "The sound of waves on the rocks was always there, and the sea stretched out beyond the horizon, an infinite blue." Silence fell for so long that Bilbo decided he had fallen asleep, and closed his eyes himself. Nearly asleep, he was startled to hear Thorin say softly, as if to himself:
"It was beautiful."
: : :
They were woken by rain in the morning, a damp and misty drizzle that softened the outlines of things and faded the landscape into watercolors. The dwarves complained about the damp, but Bilbo found it oddly soothing as they trudged along the edge of the lake. He even decided not to point out that if he still had his umbrella, he could have shared it around. Kíli brought down a duck as they walked, and Bilbo's spirits rose more: if they could find shelter in the evening, he could cook a proper meal for the first time in days.
The cobblestone path was broken with weeds and missing stones, but long stretches were smooth and easy to walk. Willows lined the banks of the lake, trailing long branches with golden autumn leaves in the water. Fíli and Kíli started to sing a song about a lost diamond, and Dwalin and Balin joined in at the chorus. Thorin didn't sing, but the set of his shoulders seemed marginally less grim as they wound south and west along the lake.
They crossed the Baranduin over a crumbling bridge, covered with scarlet ivy. Ruined pillars and broken statues started to appear in the fog, fragments of walls connecting nothing. Yet Bilbo got no sense of menace or weight from Annúminas, no feeling of the malice that Fornost had reeked of. Only sadness and loss like mist, gentle and wistful.
Finally, late in the afternoon, they found themselves in the ruins of a city. Few buildings were still intact: golden flowers overgrew marble walls that were more graceful, less brutally strong than the architecture of Fornost. On the edge of the lake was a large building with a domed roof of some blue stone, now cracked and fallen in. "The library," said Thorin, nodding toward it. "Let us find a place to set up camp and we can enter it in the morning."
As the dwarves unpacked, Kíli held up the plucked duck to Bilbo with a hopeful expression. "If we start a fire, do you think...?"
"I'll do my best," said Bilbo, wishing he had some currant jam or tomatoes. "Did you notice those blackberries by the side of the road just before the gate? Could you get me some?"
Within hours he had a roasted duck with blackberry and thyme sauce that he thought was quite nice, if he did say so himself. The dwarves seemed to agree, digging in with a gusto that would have been complimentary if it hadn't been slightly alarming. Only Thorin seemed unimpressed, picking at his meat and staring at the distant azure roof. Had you expected raptures of delight, Bilbo Baggins? From him? Bilbo firmly put his unreasonable disappointment away and tucked into his own meal, enjoying it enough for both of them.
: : :
The next few days were quiet, with a burst of clear autumn weather that gave them deep blue skies and cool crisp days. There were no undead haunting the willow-lined streets of Annúminas, no danger to guard against, and everyone's spirits rose. Fíli and Kíli hunted and explored, Bilbo cooked and learned combat, Balin and Dwalin fished and bemoaned the lack of a nearby tavern.
And Thorin lost himself in the library of Annúminas.
It was in much worse condition than the warded library of Fornost: open to the sky in places, time and weather leaving little beyond scraps and shreds of tomes. Mice and insects haunted the shelves, and the wind soughed through cracks in the walls. Yet there was more than enough to keep him busy and out of everyone's way, especially the hobbit's.
Why he was avoiding Bilbo he wasn't exactly sure. The look of hurt on his face when Thorin had threatened him kept rising up in his mind's eye at odd moments, which was annoying since Mr. Baggins was the one who had insulted the entire Line of Durin. Thorin huffed out a breath that lifted dust into sparking motes before his eyes and focused on another piece of crabbed Elvish script.
He returned to the campsite when it grew too dark to see, finding the rest of his party sitting around the fire and singing a dwarvish birthday song. "It's Mr. Bagg--I mean Bilbo's birthday!" said Kíli as he sat down.
"May your beard grow ever longer." Thorin said the traditional words absently as he sat down and began to eat, and Kíli nudged Fíli and snickered at the bemused expression on Bilbo's face.
"It would have been a lovely party," Bilbo said wistfully. "I'd hired jugglers and ordered so many flowers."
Thorin took a bite of his dinner--trout this evening, and even better than Bilbo's usual meals, although he was hardly going to say so--and said nothing.
"Do you have parties on your birthdays in Erebor?" Bilbo asked.
"Usually we have small parties, just for the family," Fíli said.
Kíli grimaced. "Yes, that's a lot better than--"
"--Don't," said Fíli.
"I'll tell them if I want to," said Kíli, looking angry at his brother for the first time Thorin could remember. "I think Uncle Thorin should know that--"
"Know what?" Thorin asked.
Kíli looked at Fíli, who looked away, his color high. "Well, Fíli's last birthday, Grandfather decided he wanted to make it a big public affair. You know, with pronouncements and ceremony and all that folderol. Fíli said he didn't want it, but Grandfather was...well, he insisted."
Fíli was still staring off into the darkness. Beside him, Bilbo looked confused. "Big public affair?" he said.
"You know," muttered Kíli. "How Fíli is 'the future of Erebor' and all that. Parade him in front of everyone."
"Like some kind of show stud or something," Fíli said bitterly.
Bilbo opened his mouth and closed it again, his forehead furrowing.
"Well, Fíli kind of...didn't attend," said Kíli. "And Grandfather, he...he sent guards to make him come. Dragged him in front of everyone and delivered this huge tirade about how such behavior was unworthy of the great-grandson of King Thrór--"
"Uh," said Bilbo, a small sound of surprise, as if someone had punched him in the stomach.
"--And how perhaps he was unworthy to be in line for the throne, and..." Kíli's voice faltered.
"And how I took after other members of my family who were no longer to be named in the halls of Erebor," Fíli burst out angrily. "And I told him right in front of everyone that I'd rather be like my Uncle Thorin than anyone in the world."
Thorin felt a wave of startled affection roll over him at Fíli's words. "Fíli--" he started.
Bilbo stood up abruptly, staring straight ahead. "Oh," he said, his face very pale. His mouth twisted. "Oh my."
Then he turned and bolted into the shadows without another word.
"What's wrong with him?" Dwalin said. "Is he sick?" He looked down at his plate. "Is the trout bad?"
Thorin snorted. "Talking about the Line of Durin seems to discomfit the hobbit. Give him time to recover himself." But when they finished their meal and there was still no sign of him, Thorin began to grow concerned. Annúminas seemed safe, but perhaps he'd managed to get into trouble anyway? Was he trapped in some abandoned well somewhere, or fallen into the lake?
"I'll go fetch the hobbit back," he said, standing.
It wasn't hard to follow the path Bilbo had taken; in fact the footprints he had left behind indicated both hurry and a complete lack of care for where he was walking. Thorin finally found him sitting on a stone at the edge of the lake, looking out at the dark water.
"Mr. Baggins," he said as he walked up behind him, "Do you plan to return to camp tonight or--"
"--I am so sorry," said Bilbo, jumping to his feet. "Thorin. I am so sorry."
Thorin stopped dead. In the pale moonlight, Bilbo's face was drawn with distress. "What?"
"I can't believe that I--the things I said--no wonder--" Bilbo shook his head vigorously, holding up a hand as if to forestall any words from Thorin, and took a deep breath. "I said terrible, hurtful things to you in Fornost, and I must beg your pardon. I really must," he said in a rush.
"Why are you apologizing to me now?" Thorin said. "And why did you say them at all, if you're so sorry about it?"
"I didn't know!" Bilbo wailed. "Everyone talked about Regent Thráin, and you talked about your father, but no one ever--I mean, I had no idea--and then I said--can you ever forgive me?"
Thorin stood for a long moment, staring at Bilbo. Then he drew a deep breath into his lungs. Bilbo flinched.
"Fíli? Kíli!" Thorin bellowed.
: : :
Soon Bilbo was poring over a family tree hastily scratched in the dirt and listening with one ear to Thorin scolding Fíli and Kíli.
"I'm sure we told him, Uncle!" Fíli was protesting. "We told him all about how you angered Prince-Regent Thráin--"
"--how he angered his father," Bilbo. "You failed to mention his father was the Regent!"
Fíli looked confused. "But everybody knows that," he said.
"Well, I didn't! How could I? And you said his father told him to leave home," complained Bilbo. "You didn't say he was formally banished from the Kingdom of Erebor!"
"Well, Erebor is home," explained Kíli.
Bilbo looked up from the family tree to glare at him. "You know, in the Shire we have calling cards that make these things clear, and we do proper introductions rather than simply growling at people for banging into you."
Fíli shrugged. "I guess it just seemed obvious to us."
"To be fair to the lads," said Dwalin, "We do tend to just take it for granted."
On the other side of the fire, Thorin shook his head. He seemed to be finding all of this rather amusing, to Bilbo's amazement. "Apparently I do not seem particularly regal."
Bilbo nodded triumphantly. "Exactly! I mean..." He narrowed his eyes at the chuckling Thorin. "You know what I mean!" He whacked his forehead with his hand, looking down at the lines on the ground, seeing the connections moving downward from Thrór to Thráin and then to Thorin and finally his nephews. "Of course. Now I see why it's so important to find--" He glimpsed a flash of alarm on Thorin's face and broke off, suddenly remembering Thorin's low voice in the library of Fornost: there is more that they do not know. "I mean, if he's your grandfather, it's only natural you'd do anything to find a way to cure him."
Thorin's quick look of relief and gratitude was gone almost before Bilbo was sure he'd seen it. "I will not leave him to suffer if I can find a way to restore his mind to him."
"But your father--why--" Bilbo stammered to a halt, fearful of offending once more, but Thorin merely looked grim.
"My father claims that King Thrór is beyond hope. He...suggested it would be best to let the King wander into the depths of Erebor in his delirium, to vanish into the labyrinths below. One day my grandfather was...not well." Thorin's eyes were shadowed, and Bilbo suspected that although this was the truth, there was much Thorin was leaving undetailed. "In my efforts to keep him from harming himself...my father found witnesses to claim that I was assaulting the King. He stripped me of my rank in front of all the dwarves of Erebor and banished me from the Lonely Mountain."
Dwalin leaned forward into the firelight. "Óin and Glóin will safeguard the King, Thorin. They are loyal."
"You still have allies within Erebor," agreed Balin quietly. "And without."
"You have my bow, Uncle!" cried Kíli.
"And my knives," added Fíli.
"The true Heir shall return to Erebor and heal our King," Dwalin said.
Bilbo cleared his throat and looked away, feeling awkward in his silence. But what did he have to offer a prince on a quest: his lemon drops? His viola tea? Besides, he'd be going home to the Shire soon, and they'd be going on without him. He was just a small burden they had picked up for a time. He wasn't part of their story.
For the first time, as he reminded himself of that, he felt a tiny pang twist beneath his breastbone.