Chapter 5
Hobbits were very strange creatures.
At Least that's what Thorin thought. Well, maybe not all of them but this one was.
He thought as he pulled out his harp.
Everyone had decided to play a bit of music as a way to winde down before they go to sleep. Hopefully it would put them in good spirits for when they departed next morning.
Master Baggins had left further into the smial a while ago, saying he had some affairs to set in order before they left tomorrow. The wizard was lounging in a chair smoking his pipe, his brow was creased and he had a far-off look in his eye as if in deep thought.
Once everyone was set with there instruments in hand they started to play a very, painfully, familiar tune.
Bilbo had left his Dwarfs and retreated to his study an hour ago to wright a very important letter he had only just realized he needed to wright.
It was a letter to Gandalf. A letter that he would only give the wizard if he died before the Quest was over. About everything that had happened the first time, about Frodo and the one ring, about Sauron and Saruman and how sorry he was that they would never have the same friendship that they had the first time. He told of how selfish he had been and still was.
He was just writing out how he would hounte the old goat if he didn't watch over Frodo when he heard music but not just and music but the very song that had made him decide to leave the Shire last time.
He quietly padded down the hall and peaked his head around the doorway to the sitting room and watched.
Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To seek our pale enchanted gold.
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells,
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.
For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.
On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.
Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.
Goblets they carved there for themselves,
And harps of gold, where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.
The pines were roaring on the heights,
The wind was moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread,
The trees like torches blazed with light.
The bells were ringing in the dale,
And men looked up with faces pale.
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire,
Laid low their towers and houses frail.
The mountain smoked beneath the moon.
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled the hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.
Far over the Misty Mountains grim,
To dungeons deep and caverns dim,
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!
The wind was on the withered heath,
But in the forest stirred no leaf:
There shadows lay be night or day,
And dark things silent crept beneath.
The wind came down from mountains cold,
And like a tide it roared and rolled.
The branches groaned, the forest moaned,
And leaves were laid upon the mould.
The wind went on from West to East;
All movement in the forest ceased.
But shrill and harsh across the marsh,
Its whistling voices were released.
The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,
The reeds were rattling--on it went.
O'er shaken pool under heavens cool,
Where racing clouds were torn and rent.
It passed the Lonely Mountain bare,
And swept above the dragon's lair:
There black and dark lay boulders stark,
And flying smoke was in the air.
It left the world and took its flight
Over the wide seas of the night.
The moon set sail upon the gale,
And stars were fanned to leaping light.
Under the Mountain dark and tall,
The King has come unto his hall!
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,
And ever so his foes shall fall!
The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong.
The heart is bold that looks on gold;
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.
On silver necklaces they strung
The light of stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of harps they wrung.
The mountain throne once more is freed!
O! Wandering folk, the summons heed!
Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!
The king of friend and kin has need.
Now call we over the mountains cold,
'Come back unto the caverns old!'
Here at the gates the king awaits,
His hands are rich with gems and gold.
The king has come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall.
The Wyrm of Dread is slain and dead,
And ever so our foes shall fall!
Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away, ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall.
To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell.
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,
And whither then we cannot tell.
With foes ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,
Until at last our toil be passed,
Our journey done, our errand sped.
We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!
By the end of the song there were tears steadily streaming down his face, he had long since stopped trying to get them to stop. It had been so long since he had last heard it he had almost forgotten just how heartbreakingly beautiful it was.
He turned quickly back down the hall before anyone saw him though he didn't notice a pair of grim blue eyes watching him as he dashed down the hall.
Very strange indeed.
The next morning Bilbo awoke an hour before the sunrise, feeling refreshed and with a feeling of great anticipation for the days to come.
He dressed quickly dressed in a simple vest, cotton shirt and trousers. He strode into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. He started frying up sausage and bacon in one pan and eggs and potatoes in another.
Ori walked in while he mixing berries into the porridge, yawning all the while.
“Good morning master Baggins, something smells good” Ori commented as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and plopped unceremoniously into a chair at the kitchen table.
“Good morning master Ori!” he replied brightly “would you like some tea or coffee?” he injured.
“Just tea thanks, Dori says i shouldn't have coffee, that it makes me jittery” Oru replied with a smile
Bilbo chuckled as he pulled the muffins out of the oven, the fact that Dori wouldn't let him have coffee didn't surprise him at all.
Just them Dwalin came stumbling in with a groan.
“Moring master Dwalin” Ori called. Dwalin let out another groan.
“Do you have to shout lad?” he asked rhetorically as he sat down and put his head in his hands. Bilbo chuckled again.
The Hobbit ventured into his cupboards and pulled out a jar filled with a special hangover tea, he had a feeling he would be using quite a lot of this morning. He also pulled out a simple berry tea for Ori.
“Here you are” he said placing the tea in front of their respective owners. Ori thanked him, Dwalin grunted.
“That's a special Hobbit tea, it works wonders for hangovers” he commented, going back to his cooking.
He was also preparing things for the upcoming jurney, like packing cooked meat up in brown paper and mixing small jars of spices. He had thought of make Lembas bread but then he decided he didn't want to explain to Gandalf how he knew the recipe.
Like his thought had summoned him the old wizard came in looking much like Dwalin, it was apparent he had had a bit too much to drink last night as well.
“You wouldn’t happen to have some of that hangover tea your mother use to make, would you?” he asked leaning heavily on his staff as he sat down.
“I’ve already got it out master Gandalf” he replied with a smirk, getting out a cup
“My thanks” Gandalf murmured.
“Is the food almost ready?”
“Just about, master Ori, im just waiting for the tarts to finish baking” he replied with a smile.
“Did someone say tarts?” Kili walked in at that moment followed closely by a grougy looking Fili.
“Yes id did, they’ll be ready in a few minutes” he said, opening the oven to check on them and getting a face full of hot air in the process.
“But i’m hungry nooooow” the prince whined as he plopped down into a seat next to Gandalf with Fili sitting down on his other side.
“Do not whine, it's unbecoming” Thorin reprimanded his nephew as he came in.
Kili nearly pouted as his brother laughed loudly. Gandalf and Dwalin both let out groans of agony.
“Good morning master Thorin” Bilbo chirped as he finally pulled the black and blueberry tarts out of the oven.
Thorin nodded at him as he sat down next to Dwalin.
“You don’t look well, are you sure you can handle fighting a dragon if a little bit of ale has you in such a state” Thorin asked jokingly to his friend.
Dwalin glared at him as if he was looking at an Elf.
“I didn’t think someone so serious was capable of making a joke” Bilbo commented with all seriousness as he put plates and forks on the table.
Thorin was the one glaring this time while Fili and kili laughed so hard tears started streaming down there faces, even Dwalin was smiling appreciatively.
“I think we're going to get along quite well master Baggins” Fili said once he had regained his breath Kili however didn't stop chuckling until Bilbo set a plate of eggs, bacon, sausage and ofcourse a tart in front of him.His eyes lit up and he immediately started eating.
Throughout the next hour everyone fond their way into the kitchen, many of them needing his special tea. When Bombur came in he struck up a conversation with Bilbo about the kind of spices he had used on the lamb last night. After everyone was feed they all started to get ready to leave.
Bilbo made hi way into his room to retrieve the bag he had packed last night then wondered into his study to retrieve all the letters he had written before joining the others out front.
“Are you ready master Bilbo?” Gandalf called from where he was standing with the others.
“Yes. yes, i think so” he replied hoisting is bag higher on his shoulder.
“The let's be off” Thorin anounced, already marching away with the others.
Bilbo looked back at his home for what may be the last time but he didn't feel sadness or regret. He found that he was completely fine with leaving and possibly never coming back as long as it meant saving the ones he cared about.
He turned away and caught up with the others were he found Fili and Kili in the middle of some kind of playful argument, Gandalf was talking to Balin, Dori seemed to be scoulding Nori about something, Ori was watching his brothers with a mixture of concern and amusement, Gloin was telling stories of his wife and child to anyone who would listen.
Yes, he didn't mind leaving at all.
Bilbo. Hated. Ridding.
It made sense why, no Hobbits were very fond of it but having to do it again made him remember just how horrible it was. His thighs chiaft, it was bumpy, his pony smelled and his back arched. He liked the animals themselves well enough but Hobbits really weren't meant for such thing.
Much to his dismay he was going to be stuck ridding for some time. They had left the borders of the Shire and hour ago and were well on there way now.
Bilbo's heart no longer did backflips every time he looked at his very much alive companions though it did still ache a bit but to a tolerable extent now. He looked over to Fili and Kili who were riding side by side like always. He remembered how Fili had decided to stay in lake town to be with his brother rather then going with them to Erebor. He had always admired just how close and loyal they were to each other. It was refreshing to be able to see that again.
“Mister Baggins?” Bofur rode up beside him.
“Hello master Bofur” he returned with a smile.
“Can i ask you a question?” he inquired
“Sure”
“Are all Hobbits as accepting as you?” he asked slowly
“What do you mean?” Bilbo was confused by the question.
“Well, it’s just that most races aren’t to accepting to outsiders but you just sort of took us right in without question, do all Hobbits do that?” he finished with a sideways tilt of his head.
“Oh! No they don’t really, most Hobbits aren't to fond of outsiders, i mean they will always be polite just suspicious.” he explained
“Then how come you aren’t?” Bombur questioned further
“Uh...my mother liked to adventure, she use to travel to Rivendell to see the Elves and when i was young she sometimes took me with her. Both my mother and the Elves taught me to be courteous to everyone no matter what race and they taught me to never judge anyone based on how they look.” it was the best excuse he could come up with in the heat of the moment, he hadn't expected anyone to ask such a question.
“What in the world would you want to visit Elves for?” the Dwarf asked, appalled.
“Well Hobbits don’t really have anything against them and they were always nice to me and my mother.” he replied with a half smile, he had always found it funny how much Dwarfs and Elves hate each other.
“They might seem nice but Elves are no good, the damn leaf eaters” a new voice comments from somewhere to Bilbo's left.
Bilbo turned his head and saw that Fili and Kili had joined them at some point during their conversation.
“Mister Kili is right mister Baggins, Elves are not to be trusted” Bofur put in.
The Hobbit rolled his eyes at there words
“I know Dwarfs don’t like Elves but i think you’re being a bit ridiculous.” he muttered
“We are not!” Fili countered with a dramatic wave of his hand. “There are good reasons that Dwarfs don't trust Elves” he finished with a nod of his head.
“I know what the Elves of Mirkwood did to the Dwarves of Erebor after Smaug attacked.” Blibo uttered quietly
They all look at him with the same wide eyed look of disbelief.
“You….you do?” Kili whispered leaning forward on his pony.
“Yes. on one of my visits to Rivendale i found a book in the the library that explained, roughly, what had happened. After i read it i went to lord Elrond and asked if it was true, if the woodland Elves had really been so cruel. He explained in greater detail what had happened, how Thranduil had turned you away and refused to help even though they had resource. The Elves of Rivendell aren't like that though, it really was just Thranduil who had wronged your people.” by the time he was finished everyone who was near them was listening to his tale.
“I take it not all Hobbits are so well learned in the affairs of Dwarfs and Elves?” Gloin asked from in front of him, turning in head back to look at the Hobbit.
“No, not usually, my mother just happened to be eccentric” he said with a shrug.
“That she was” Gandalf chuckled “i was always very fond of Belladonna” he finished with a wistful look in his eye. Bilbo snorted.
“Yes, i know” he replied with a smirk
Gandalf looked embarrassed.
They had set up camp for the night under the cover of some tall trees. Bilbo laid out his bedroll on the softest patch of grass he could find, a little bit apart from where the others were setting up there own makeshift beds closer to the fire and Bombur who was just getting supper started.
He still found it hard to believe that they were all still alive and that he had been given this second chance to try and save them. Bilbo glanced over at Thorin who was studying the map that was so vital to their journey. He still found it hard to look at the king, when he had talked to him briefly that morning he had thought he might pass out. Thorin. He didn't even know what to make of seeing his old love again. His heart pounded in his chest, his hands became clammy and he could swear that a horde of rampaging ponies were galloping in his stomach. In other words he felt like damn tween again, which was not an experience he wanted to repeat.
He attempted to shake himself of his, not exactly pleasant, thoughts. He wandered over to Bombur in a attempted to distract his mind, though he told himself it was to see if there was something he could do to help.
“Good evening master Bombur, what are you cooking?” the Hobbit injured
The ginger Dwarf jumped from where he was leaning over his pot, seemingly startled.
“Oh! I’m uh, i’m making beef stew ladie” he replied ounce he righted himself. Bombur seeed to fidget a moment, leaning his weight from foot to foot, almost looking a little stuck, finally he spoke.
“Master Baggins, if i may ask, what did you put in that beef stew of yours last night? It was very good” he finished
Bilbo blinked at him a moment, well it seems his food had made a good impression after all.
“Well, um, thank you, it's nothing special really, just a oregano, basil, parsley, pepper and a bit of rosemary from my garden” he looked down as he felt heat raise in his cheeks, he fiddled his fingers and shuffled his feet.
“Ah! Of course!”
Bilbo looked up abruptly at the sound of Bombur’s loud voice.
“Rosemary! Of course! I never would have thought of that. Now tell me…” and he was off asking all sorts of questions regarding all thing cooking and food, with Bilbo answering in turn, equally as pleased to have someone to talk with about such a familiar topic as cooking.
Bilbo couldn't say he had know Bombur very well when he had returned to the shire the first time but he did know that he wasn't a worrier by nature, rather a kind hearted Dwarf with a warm smile and a love for the simpler things like cooking. He reminded Bilbo a bit of himself in that respect. Even though Bilbo very much love a nice adventure every once in awhile, he did still enjoy his books and soft armchair, just not as much.
Bilbo decided he would get to know as much about Bombur as he could while on their quest. After all he might not get another chance.
i am soooooo sorry for taking so long to update, i really dont have an excuse other then just plain laziness but i promise i will post again soon