Clarity of Vision, Chapter 5
May. 19th, 2013 09:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mithenTitle: Clarity of Vision, Chapter 5
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Fíli, Kíli, Thorin, Dwalin, Balin
Fandom: Hobbit
Warnings/Spoilers: Discussions (and misunderstanding) of genetic mental illness.
Rating: G
Word Count: 3400
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: Trapped in the Library of Fornost, Thorin and his company search for clues and Thorin and Bilbo have some conversations with unfortunate results.
Notes: Well-timed for this chapter, Mekare has a fantastic picture of Thorin Doing Research as well as an adorable Baffled Skeleton With Umbrella! I just want to hug both of them...although neither would probably appreciate it.
"No, you must grip the knife like this, Mr. Baggins," said Fíli, adjusting Bilbo's hand.
"And widen your stance more," added Kíli. "Imagine I'm a skeleton warrior about to charge you, like this--argh!"
He jumped at Bilbo without warning and Bilbo squeaked and dropped the knife. The brothers shared a glance.
"Needs work," said Fíli.
"But you're making progress!" Kíli said encouragingly, clapping him on the back.
"We've been practicing for hours now," Bilbo pointed out. "Can't we take a break and get some food?"
The brothers brightened. "That sounds like an excellent idea, Mr. Baggins," said Kíli.
"And that's another thing," Bilbo said as Fíli pulled a block of rations out of his pack. "You don't have to call me 'Mr. Baggins' all the time. If we're going to be fighting our way out of Fornost through an undead army--" His voice was steady; the idea was so mad that it hardly registered, "--you can call me by my first name."
"I suppose formality can be a liability on the battlefield," agreed Fíli, unwrapping the rations.
"Yes, you wouldn't want to be yelling something like, 'Look out behind you, Mr. Baggins!' all the time," Kíli said.
"'Mr. Baggins! That skeleton is about to eviscerate you!'"
"'You might want to duck to avoid a decapitating blow, Mr. Baggins!'"
"'Mr. Baggins, I recommend you--'"
"--Yes, yes," said Bilbo hastily. "I get the general idea, there's no reason to dwell on it, um, quite so much. So, yes, I just mean you can use my first name, I don't mind."
There was a short silence as they nibbled on their rations. Fíli and Kíli looked at each other. "Mr. Baggins, the fact of the matter is--"
Bilbo held up a finger to interrupt Fíli. "--Didn't we just agree? First names."
"Yes, well," said Kíli, looking down at his food, "The truth is, that we, um..."
"...we don't actually remember your first name," finished Fíli.
"Though I'm fairly certain it started with a B!" Kíli said cheerfully.
Bilbo looked at their crestfallen faces. "It's--it's Bilbo," he said, torn between exasperation and laughter.
"Bilbo, yes! Got it!" they cried.
The rations finished, Bilbo picked up the little box that had once held his spun sugar animals and shook it gently. It rattled slightly. "I think there may still be some dessert," he said, opening it and fishing out a few fragments.
The brothers looked guilty. "We feel so badly that you gave up your birthday party sweets to help us," said Kíli.
Bilbo shrugged, looking at the shards of sugar in the box. "It seems pretty unlikely I'm going to get home in time for my birthday now," he said. "And it would be a shame not to eat this. Especially if we're going to be eviscerated by skeletons," he added, handing bits to the brothers. As they ate, Bilbo patted his pack to reassure himself: he still had his lemon drops, after all, and his butterscotch biscuits, and the viola tea. Things weren't so grave. If they managed to get away from Fornost in one piece, he might even still make it home for his birthday after all.
: : :
Fíli and Kíli were sparring in the entrance hall when Balin and Dwalin came in through the north archway, their arms loaded with books. "Oof," grumbled Dwalin, dropping them onto the table. Dust rose up from them in a cloud. He beckoned to Bilbo. "Lad, go find Thorin and tell him we've got some books written in one of them elvish languages he needs to look at."
"We'll go!" chorused Kíli and Fíli, but Dwalin shook his head.
"You'll get distracted and lost and I won't see you for hours. I'm sending the halfling."
"It would be my pleasure, I'm sure," groused Bilbo as he headed into the south wing, "Not that anyone actually asked, just told me to hop to it. I'm not your manservant, you know!" he said after checking to make sure he was well out of Dwalin's range of hearing.
The Great Library of Fornost was bewildering, its stone halls stretching out in every direction. A complicated system of mirrors and tiny warded windows cast pale, diffuse light over the rooms, but it was easy to get turned around in the endless maze of book-lined walls. Bilbo walked south, gaping at the marble statues, sometimes stopping to admire an archaic map on the wall, until he spotted yellow torchlight rather than the dim glow of the library's lighting. Quietly, daunted by the brooding hush of the ancient halls, he sidled into the room.
Thorin was sitting at a table in the center of the room, frowning down at a scroll unrolled in front of him. He was wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses low on his nose, peering through them at the words. He glanced up, startled, as Bilbo cleared his throat, then pulled the glasses off and shoved them roughly in his breast pocket.
"Sometimes the cursed print is small," he huffed.
"Well, of course," said Bilbo. "Many scholars use glasses to--"
"--Don't tell Dwalin," said Thorin.
"Um, right. He asked me--well, told me--to come find you," Bilbo said. "Said he had some elvish materials."
Thorin rubbed at his eyes as if they pained him. "I shall be there in a moment. Just let me finish this scroll."
"Have you found anything yet?"
"No."
The curt reply hung in the air; Bilbo waited until Thorin rolled up the scroll with a sigh to speak again. "So, what exactly are you looking for?"
"It is a dwarvish matter, and no concern to a halfling."
"You never know. Maybe I could help."
"I doubt it."
Bilbo felt his teeth grind together a bit. He tried again: "You told Balin and Dwalin you're looking for something about gold?"
Thorin picked up a book from the table. "Let's return," he said.
His strides carried him well ahead of Bilbo, who had to hurry to keep up with him. "You know, your approach is not the most productive," Bilbo pointed out to his back. "You're not going to get far in this quest if you keep shutting people out who might help you. With an attitude like that, no wonder you haven't made any progress in ten years."
"I have made plenty of progress in ten years!" Thorin roared back over his shoulder, his boots loud on the stone floor. "I have scoured ancient libraries, I have fought the goblin armies of Gundabad to search the dwarvish chronicles hidden deep in that holy mountain, I have hunted wargs across the plains of Angmar in search of clues--I have seen and done more than you can possibly comprehend for my King, hobbit!"
"And what progress have you made, huh? For all your scouring and slaying and hunting, what do you know now that you didn't know before?"
Thorin burst into the entrance hall, growling something under his breath, and the other dwarves looked up in surprise. He rounded on Bilbo: "When I left Erebor, I had only a phrase and a reference. A book, hundreds of years old, referred to a poem of healing by the elf-poet Elloth, specifically to a passage of interest to dwarves that started, 'When golden thoughts to gentle darkness turn.'" He took a deep breath, his eyes snapping. "That was all I had."
Bilbo gaped at him. "That was all--you had a one-line reference to an old poem? That was what you had to start with?"
Thorin glared at him. "Thus I have searched Middle Earth, its cities and its catacombs, ever since. In the ruins of Echad Dúnann, in what was once called Hollin, I found the full first verse. And deep under Mount Gundabad, I found what appeared to be the last verse, and a note saying that a copy of the complete poem was in the keeping of the loremasters of Arnor. And that is why I am here, in the capital of that ancient empire."
"Uncle Thorin! You found more of the verse?"
"You didn't tell us that!"
Thorin looked from Bilbo to Fíli and Kíli, staring at him in eager anticipation. He cleared his throat. "Yes, well--they were in Sindarin, so it took me a while to puzzle them out."
The brothers nodded and waited.
"Aren't you going to tell us what they said?" Fíli said eventually.
"You might as well, lad," said Balin. "If something happens to us, they're going to be the ones to carry on your quest."
Thorin looked slightly dubious at the idea of Kíli and Fíli continuing his mission, but he said, "Very well, then. The first verse, translated from Sindarin into Westron, goes like this." He closed his eyes and nodded slightly, then recited in a clear, singsong bass:
When golden thoughts to gentle darkness turn
And shadows form within the gilded heart
Then shall the fevered mind no longer burn
And Durin's Scourge shall finally depart.
Fíli and Kíli nodded. "I see," said Fíli.
"Of course," said Kíli.
They kept nodding, looking thoughtful.
”What does it mean?" asked Bilbo.
"No idea," the brothers said in unison.
Fíli grimaced. "What does it mean, Uncle Thorin?"
"I'm...not sure," Thorin admitted. "'Durin's Scourge' is clearly the name of the curse, the--" he paused and looked quickly at Bilbo, then continued, "--the dragon-sickness. The mind-fever is an effect of the illness."
"But the first two lines?" Bilbo looked from face to face. "Golden thoughts turning to darkness? A shadowed heart?"
"It sounds kind of like dying," said Kíli.
Thorin looked exasperated. "Yes, the poem is saying that dying will cure the dragon-sickness, that seems very likely."
"You're being sarcastic again, aren't you?" Kíli asked nervously.
"Yes."
Balin cut into the conversation: "Thorin thinks it possible the first two lines refer to an item made of gold, something old that has been allowed to tarnish."
"Gold doesn't tarnish," said Bilbo.
"It can when it is part of an alloy," said Thorin, with an annoyed look: Do not presume to lecture dwarves about the properties of metals!
"And you said you found a last verse under Mount Gundabad?" said Fíli.
Thorin shrugged. "It was less useful; just a summary." He cleared his throat and recited once more:
"And when at last you see your treasure true,
If sacrifice and love can fill your soul,
The dragon's curse shall lose its hold on you
And clarity of vision make you whole."
"That's pretty," said Bilbo.
"And meaningless," said Thorin.
"How can you be sure?"
"If love could save someone with dragon-sickness," Thorin said, "Then my King--" He broke off, glowering at Bilbo. "It's just poetry."
"So you're here to look for more fragments of the poem," said Bilbo. Thorin nodded. "That's how far you've gotten in ten years."
"I will search for twenty years--for forty--for my entire life if it takes that long to find the treasure that will defeat the dragon-sickness."
"That's..." Obsessively single-minded "...very devoted of you," said Bilbo.
Thorin frowned as if he could hear Bilbo's unspoken thoughts. "I did not ask you to join us, Mr. Baggins, and it is not your place to question me."
"I didn't ask to join you either!" said Bilbo. "Believe me, I'd much rather be making party preparations at home than besieged by skeletons in a ruined library. I'd give anything to be in my cozy armchair, in front of my nice little fireplace, with a nice steaming cup of tea in my hand--" The vision of his little hobbit-hole rose up in his mind's eye, and he found himself swallowing hard, the room swimming. He rubbed at his eyes fiercely. "I wish I'd never run into any of you."
Pushing past a stricken-looking Fíli and Kíli, he hurried from the great hall, looking for a place to be alone with his misery.
: : :
"Please, Uncle Thorin,"said Fíli.
"It's all our fault that he's here, and we feel really badly, so won't you please just tell him you're sorry?" pleaded Kíli.
"But I'm not," said Thorin, finishing his rations.
Fíli grimaced. "Well, you don't have to be sorry, but the little guy is all alone and kind of scared--"
"--and really not much of a fighter--" Kíli added.
"--so couldn't you just say you were sorry? To maybe make him feel better?"
"I don't have time for this nonsense." Thorin stood up. Fíli and Kíli looked up at him, their eyes imploring. "Oh, by Durin's beard--all right, I shall have a talk with the hobbit. But I do not promise I shall apologize to him."
They threw their arms around him--had they been this prone to hugging before he left?--and thanked him profusely, and Thorin started off in search of the halfling.
As he wandered the dimly-lit corridors, he gritted his teeth and tried to resign himself to coddling the halfling's hurt feelings. Mr. Baggins was far from home, he reminded himself (not as far as I am!) and not prepared for such dangers and perils. He had come along to try and help Thorin's nephews, from the goodness of his heart. Thorin's steps slowed as he tried to imagine all this from the hobbit's point of view: offering to do a good turn to two well-intentioned dwarflings, then finding yourself in a haunted city, under attack by creatures beyond your ken, surrounded by strangers who had a tendency (Thorin forced himself to be honest) to bark at you and refuse to explain themselves.
He remembered the moment on the downs when he had seen the halfling standing over his nephews' fallen bodies, brandishing his ridiculous umbrella as though he would die before letting the skeletons touch them. There was courage there, under the silly purple (plum-colored!) suspenders.
"I owe you an explanation," he said without preamble when he finally found Bilbo Baggins sitting and poring over a book of old maps.
Bilbo looked up in surprise. His eyes were slightly reddened, but he seemed to have composed himself. "You do?"
Thorin cleared his throat and looked down at a scroll, his eyes following the intricate lines of the wax seal on it. "Fíli and Kíli have told you what I am searching for?"
"An item of some sort. A treasure that will heal the King of Erebor from some illness of the mind."
"They are correct, but there is more that they do not know. That I have not told them." He took a deep breath. "King Thrór suffers from what we call the dragon-sickness. It is an ancient curse upon our race. The victim becomes...obsessed with gold and treasure. The mind wanders in darkness, dwelling only on things rather than people." He reached out and touched the seal, feeling the wax cool and heavy under his fingers. "As a young dwarf, the King trusted me to care for him when he was ill. So I saw him decline, saw his mind fragment and shatter. I kept it secret for a very long time."
"That must have been hard," Bilbo said, his voice low.
"I swore I would find the means to make him whole again," Thorin said. "I devoted my life to searching for the answer. And in my studies, I learned that..." He swallowed. He had never said this out loud, although he was certain Balin and Dwalin knew it. "...I learned that the curse is in the blood of some families, running always under the surface, a blight and a threat. It was when I saw the signs of it in--" He fell back on the safety of formal titles, "--in Prince-Regent Thráin that I realized how true the old writings were. And how deep the sickness runs in the Line of Durin, the rulers of Erebor." The glint of wildness in his father's eyes, echoing the madness in his grandfather's. A doom beyond bearing. "As long as there is no cure, the dragon-sickness will forever haunt the Kings of Erebor." He turned to look at Bilbo. "I am aware that I can appear...overly focused. That I seem to be throwing my life away in a vain search for a lost hope. But I must find it. The fate of the Line of Durin depends on it."
He took a long, careful breath, suddenly aware that he wasn't used to talking so much in one stretch. Balin and Dwalin didn't need speeches from him, they understood him.
Thorin wasn't sure why it was important this hobbit understand him. It probably wasn't. But he found himself waiting to hear Bilbo's response.
Bilbo was frowning down at the map on the desk. He tilted his head to the side, then said:
"Well, shouldn't Erebor have a different ruling family, then?"
: : :
Thorin blinked at him, and Bilbo continued:
"I mean, it doesn't seem a very good idea to have a kingdom ruled by a family with hereditary insanity, does it? Kind of a disaster waiting to happen, after all."
Thorin had gone very still, and it made Bilbo feel somewhat uneasy.
"Don't get me wrong, obviously this King Thrór inspires a great deal of devotion, I'm sure he's a great king," he went on hurriedly. "But if his children are already are showing the signs of it--well, it just seems to me that it would be best for Erebor if a different family was in charge, don't you think?"
"So you--a hobbit from the Shire--you have decided that the Line of Durin is unfit to rule Erebor?" Thorin's voice was quiet, yet somehow Bilbo felt trepidation prickle his skin.
"Well, that's a strong word, but...I mean, have you considered elections? They work well in the Shire. That way you dwarves could pick someone intelligent and brave and devoted to Erebor's well-being, and not risk having a ruler you can't get rid of who's...you know...not all there." He smiled nervously at Thorin, who was staring at him. "And then you'd be free to live your life as you chose, not haring around Middle Earth looking for a remedy that might not even exist! You know, if Erebor had elections they could do worse than choose--hey!"
Bilbo broke off with a yelp as Thorin reached out and grabbed him by the collar and seat of his pants and frog-marched him down the corridor to the main hall, ignoring his heated protests. Shoving him into the room so he staggered and sprawled on the stone floor, Thorin pointed at him while the other dwarves stared.
"Keep him out of my sight," Thorin said, his voice flat and cold, "Or I shall throw him to the skeletons myself."
He turned his back and started to stride away down the corridor.
"In Mahal's name, laddie, what did you say to him?" Balin exclaimed.
"I didn't--I didn't say anything that--he's crazy! You're crazy!" Bilbo yelled after Thorin's retreating back. The dwarf's shoulders tensed as if Bilbo's voice was a blow, but he didn't turn around and soon disappeared in the darkness of the library.
"That's not like him at all," Balin said, sharing a look with Dwalin. "All right," he amended at Dwalin's look, "That's extreme for him."
"I was trying to give him a compliment, and he just grabbed me and--" Bilbo broke off, dusting off his clothes angrily. "You know what, never mind, I don't want to talk about it." He squared his shoulders and looked at Kíli and Fíli. "Let's get back to training," he said.
Kíli's face was wrinkled with dismay; he sniffed and rubbed his nose. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Bilbo said firmly. "I'm absolutely sure."
And so he parried and sliced and feinted until his arms were exhausted and his hair soaked with sweat, until Kíli and Fíli finally told him he had to stop and get some sleep, until he was too tired to think about how wretched he felt with Thorin angry at him.
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Fíli, Kíli, Thorin, Dwalin, Balin
Fandom: Hobbit
Warnings/Spoilers: Discussions (and misunderstanding) of genetic mental illness.
Rating: G
Word Count: 3400
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: Trapped in the Library of Fornost, Thorin and his company search for clues and Thorin and Bilbo have some conversations with unfortunate results.
Notes: Well-timed for this chapter, Mekare has a fantastic picture of Thorin Doing Research as well as an adorable Baffled Skeleton With Umbrella! I just want to hug both of them...although neither would probably appreciate it.
"No, you must grip the knife like this, Mr. Baggins," said Fíli, adjusting Bilbo's hand.
"And widen your stance more," added Kíli. "Imagine I'm a skeleton warrior about to charge you, like this--argh!"
He jumped at Bilbo without warning and Bilbo squeaked and dropped the knife. The brothers shared a glance.
"Needs work," said Fíli.
"But you're making progress!" Kíli said encouragingly, clapping him on the back.
"We've been practicing for hours now," Bilbo pointed out. "Can't we take a break and get some food?"
The brothers brightened. "That sounds like an excellent idea, Mr. Baggins," said Kíli.
"And that's another thing," Bilbo said as Fíli pulled a block of rations out of his pack. "You don't have to call me 'Mr. Baggins' all the time. If we're going to be fighting our way out of Fornost through an undead army--" His voice was steady; the idea was so mad that it hardly registered, "--you can call me by my first name."
"I suppose formality can be a liability on the battlefield," agreed Fíli, unwrapping the rations.
"Yes, you wouldn't want to be yelling something like, 'Look out behind you, Mr. Baggins!' all the time," Kíli said.
"'Mr. Baggins! That skeleton is about to eviscerate you!'"
"'You might want to duck to avoid a decapitating blow, Mr. Baggins!'"
"'Mr. Baggins, I recommend you--'"
"--Yes, yes," said Bilbo hastily. "I get the general idea, there's no reason to dwell on it, um, quite so much. So, yes, I just mean you can use my first name, I don't mind."
There was a short silence as they nibbled on their rations. Fíli and Kíli looked at each other. "Mr. Baggins, the fact of the matter is--"
Bilbo held up a finger to interrupt Fíli. "--Didn't we just agree? First names."
"Yes, well," said Kíli, looking down at his food, "The truth is, that we, um..."
"...we don't actually remember your first name," finished Fíli.
"Though I'm fairly certain it started with a B!" Kíli said cheerfully.
Bilbo looked at their crestfallen faces. "It's--it's Bilbo," he said, torn between exasperation and laughter.
"Bilbo, yes! Got it!" they cried.
The rations finished, Bilbo picked up the little box that had once held his spun sugar animals and shook it gently. It rattled slightly. "I think there may still be some dessert," he said, opening it and fishing out a few fragments.
The brothers looked guilty. "We feel so badly that you gave up your birthday party sweets to help us," said Kíli.
Bilbo shrugged, looking at the shards of sugar in the box. "It seems pretty unlikely I'm going to get home in time for my birthday now," he said. "And it would be a shame not to eat this. Especially if we're going to be eviscerated by skeletons," he added, handing bits to the brothers. As they ate, Bilbo patted his pack to reassure himself: he still had his lemon drops, after all, and his butterscotch biscuits, and the viola tea. Things weren't so grave. If they managed to get away from Fornost in one piece, he might even still make it home for his birthday after all.
: : :
Fíli and Kíli were sparring in the entrance hall when Balin and Dwalin came in through the north archway, their arms loaded with books. "Oof," grumbled Dwalin, dropping them onto the table. Dust rose up from them in a cloud. He beckoned to Bilbo. "Lad, go find Thorin and tell him we've got some books written in one of them elvish languages he needs to look at."
"We'll go!" chorused Kíli and Fíli, but Dwalin shook his head.
"You'll get distracted and lost and I won't see you for hours. I'm sending the halfling."
"It would be my pleasure, I'm sure," groused Bilbo as he headed into the south wing, "Not that anyone actually asked, just told me to hop to it. I'm not your manservant, you know!" he said after checking to make sure he was well out of Dwalin's range of hearing.
The Great Library of Fornost was bewildering, its stone halls stretching out in every direction. A complicated system of mirrors and tiny warded windows cast pale, diffuse light over the rooms, but it was easy to get turned around in the endless maze of book-lined walls. Bilbo walked south, gaping at the marble statues, sometimes stopping to admire an archaic map on the wall, until he spotted yellow torchlight rather than the dim glow of the library's lighting. Quietly, daunted by the brooding hush of the ancient halls, he sidled into the room.
Thorin was sitting at a table in the center of the room, frowning down at a scroll unrolled in front of him. He was wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses low on his nose, peering through them at the words. He glanced up, startled, as Bilbo cleared his throat, then pulled the glasses off and shoved them roughly in his breast pocket.
"Sometimes the cursed print is small," he huffed.
"Well, of course," said Bilbo. "Many scholars use glasses to--"
"--Don't tell Dwalin," said Thorin.
"Um, right. He asked me--well, told me--to come find you," Bilbo said. "Said he had some elvish materials."
Thorin rubbed at his eyes as if they pained him. "I shall be there in a moment. Just let me finish this scroll."
"Have you found anything yet?"
"No."
The curt reply hung in the air; Bilbo waited until Thorin rolled up the scroll with a sigh to speak again. "So, what exactly are you looking for?"
"It is a dwarvish matter, and no concern to a halfling."
"You never know. Maybe I could help."
"I doubt it."
Bilbo felt his teeth grind together a bit. He tried again: "You told Balin and Dwalin you're looking for something about gold?"
Thorin picked up a book from the table. "Let's return," he said.
His strides carried him well ahead of Bilbo, who had to hurry to keep up with him. "You know, your approach is not the most productive," Bilbo pointed out to his back. "You're not going to get far in this quest if you keep shutting people out who might help you. With an attitude like that, no wonder you haven't made any progress in ten years."
"I have made plenty of progress in ten years!" Thorin roared back over his shoulder, his boots loud on the stone floor. "I have scoured ancient libraries, I have fought the goblin armies of Gundabad to search the dwarvish chronicles hidden deep in that holy mountain, I have hunted wargs across the plains of Angmar in search of clues--I have seen and done more than you can possibly comprehend for my King, hobbit!"
"And what progress have you made, huh? For all your scouring and slaying and hunting, what do you know now that you didn't know before?"
Thorin burst into the entrance hall, growling something under his breath, and the other dwarves looked up in surprise. He rounded on Bilbo: "When I left Erebor, I had only a phrase and a reference. A book, hundreds of years old, referred to a poem of healing by the elf-poet Elloth, specifically to a passage of interest to dwarves that started, 'When golden thoughts to gentle darkness turn.'" He took a deep breath, his eyes snapping. "That was all I had."
Bilbo gaped at him. "That was all--you had a one-line reference to an old poem? That was what you had to start with?"
Thorin glared at him. "Thus I have searched Middle Earth, its cities and its catacombs, ever since. In the ruins of Echad Dúnann, in what was once called Hollin, I found the full first verse. And deep under Mount Gundabad, I found what appeared to be the last verse, and a note saying that a copy of the complete poem was in the keeping of the loremasters of Arnor. And that is why I am here, in the capital of that ancient empire."
"Uncle Thorin! You found more of the verse?"
"You didn't tell us that!"
Thorin looked from Bilbo to Fíli and Kíli, staring at him in eager anticipation. He cleared his throat. "Yes, well--they were in Sindarin, so it took me a while to puzzle them out."
The brothers nodded and waited.
"Aren't you going to tell us what they said?" Fíli said eventually.
"You might as well, lad," said Balin. "If something happens to us, they're going to be the ones to carry on your quest."
Thorin looked slightly dubious at the idea of Kíli and Fíli continuing his mission, but he said, "Very well, then. The first verse, translated from Sindarin into Westron, goes like this." He closed his eyes and nodded slightly, then recited in a clear, singsong bass:
When golden thoughts to gentle darkness turn
And shadows form within the gilded heart
Then shall the fevered mind no longer burn
And Durin's Scourge shall finally depart.
Fíli and Kíli nodded. "I see," said Fíli.
"Of course," said Kíli.
They kept nodding, looking thoughtful.
”What does it mean?" asked Bilbo.
"No idea," the brothers said in unison.
Fíli grimaced. "What does it mean, Uncle Thorin?"
"I'm...not sure," Thorin admitted. "'Durin's Scourge' is clearly the name of the curse, the--" he paused and looked quickly at Bilbo, then continued, "--the dragon-sickness. The mind-fever is an effect of the illness."
"But the first two lines?" Bilbo looked from face to face. "Golden thoughts turning to darkness? A shadowed heart?"
"It sounds kind of like dying," said Kíli.
Thorin looked exasperated. "Yes, the poem is saying that dying will cure the dragon-sickness, that seems very likely."
"You're being sarcastic again, aren't you?" Kíli asked nervously.
"Yes."
Balin cut into the conversation: "Thorin thinks it possible the first two lines refer to an item made of gold, something old that has been allowed to tarnish."
"Gold doesn't tarnish," said Bilbo.
"It can when it is part of an alloy," said Thorin, with an annoyed look: Do not presume to lecture dwarves about the properties of metals!
"And you said you found a last verse under Mount Gundabad?" said Fíli.
Thorin shrugged. "It was less useful; just a summary." He cleared his throat and recited once more:
"And when at last you see your treasure true,
If sacrifice and love can fill your soul,
The dragon's curse shall lose its hold on you
And clarity of vision make you whole."
"That's pretty," said Bilbo.
"And meaningless," said Thorin.
"How can you be sure?"
"If love could save someone with dragon-sickness," Thorin said, "Then my King--" He broke off, glowering at Bilbo. "It's just poetry."
"So you're here to look for more fragments of the poem," said Bilbo. Thorin nodded. "That's how far you've gotten in ten years."
"I will search for twenty years--for forty--for my entire life if it takes that long to find the treasure that will defeat the dragon-sickness."
"That's..." Obsessively single-minded "...very devoted of you," said Bilbo.
Thorin frowned as if he could hear Bilbo's unspoken thoughts. "I did not ask you to join us, Mr. Baggins, and it is not your place to question me."
"I didn't ask to join you either!" said Bilbo. "Believe me, I'd much rather be making party preparations at home than besieged by skeletons in a ruined library. I'd give anything to be in my cozy armchair, in front of my nice little fireplace, with a nice steaming cup of tea in my hand--" The vision of his little hobbit-hole rose up in his mind's eye, and he found himself swallowing hard, the room swimming. He rubbed at his eyes fiercely. "I wish I'd never run into any of you."
Pushing past a stricken-looking Fíli and Kíli, he hurried from the great hall, looking for a place to be alone with his misery.
: : :
"Please, Uncle Thorin,"said Fíli.
"It's all our fault that he's here, and we feel really badly, so won't you please just tell him you're sorry?" pleaded Kíli.
"But I'm not," said Thorin, finishing his rations.
Fíli grimaced. "Well, you don't have to be sorry, but the little guy is all alone and kind of scared--"
"--and really not much of a fighter--" Kíli added.
"--so couldn't you just say you were sorry? To maybe make him feel better?"
"I don't have time for this nonsense." Thorin stood up. Fíli and Kíli looked up at him, their eyes imploring. "Oh, by Durin's beard--all right, I shall have a talk with the hobbit. But I do not promise I shall apologize to him."
They threw their arms around him--had they been this prone to hugging before he left?--and thanked him profusely, and Thorin started off in search of the halfling.
As he wandered the dimly-lit corridors, he gritted his teeth and tried to resign himself to coddling the halfling's hurt feelings. Mr. Baggins was far from home, he reminded himself (not as far as I am!) and not prepared for such dangers and perils. He had come along to try and help Thorin's nephews, from the goodness of his heart. Thorin's steps slowed as he tried to imagine all this from the hobbit's point of view: offering to do a good turn to two well-intentioned dwarflings, then finding yourself in a haunted city, under attack by creatures beyond your ken, surrounded by strangers who had a tendency (Thorin forced himself to be honest) to bark at you and refuse to explain themselves.
He remembered the moment on the downs when he had seen the halfling standing over his nephews' fallen bodies, brandishing his ridiculous umbrella as though he would die before letting the skeletons touch them. There was courage there, under the silly purple (plum-colored!) suspenders.
"I owe you an explanation," he said without preamble when he finally found Bilbo Baggins sitting and poring over a book of old maps.
Bilbo looked up in surprise. His eyes were slightly reddened, but he seemed to have composed himself. "You do?"
Thorin cleared his throat and looked down at a scroll, his eyes following the intricate lines of the wax seal on it. "Fíli and Kíli have told you what I am searching for?"
"An item of some sort. A treasure that will heal the King of Erebor from some illness of the mind."
"They are correct, but there is more that they do not know. That I have not told them." He took a deep breath. "King Thrór suffers from what we call the dragon-sickness. It is an ancient curse upon our race. The victim becomes...obsessed with gold and treasure. The mind wanders in darkness, dwelling only on things rather than people." He reached out and touched the seal, feeling the wax cool and heavy under his fingers. "As a young dwarf, the King trusted me to care for him when he was ill. So I saw him decline, saw his mind fragment and shatter. I kept it secret for a very long time."
"That must have been hard," Bilbo said, his voice low.
"I swore I would find the means to make him whole again," Thorin said. "I devoted my life to searching for the answer. And in my studies, I learned that..." He swallowed. He had never said this out loud, although he was certain Balin and Dwalin knew it. "...I learned that the curse is in the blood of some families, running always under the surface, a blight and a threat. It was when I saw the signs of it in--" He fell back on the safety of formal titles, "--in Prince-Regent Thráin that I realized how true the old writings were. And how deep the sickness runs in the Line of Durin, the rulers of Erebor." The glint of wildness in his father's eyes, echoing the madness in his grandfather's. A doom beyond bearing. "As long as there is no cure, the dragon-sickness will forever haunt the Kings of Erebor." He turned to look at Bilbo. "I am aware that I can appear...overly focused. That I seem to be throwing my life away in a vain search for a lost hope. But I must find it. The fate of the Line of Durin depends on it."
He took a long, careful breath, suddenly aware that he wasn't used to talking so much in one stretch. Balin and Dwalin didn't need speeches from him, they understood him.
Thorin wasn't sure why it was important this hobbit understand him. It probably wasn't. But he found himself waiting to hear Bilbo's response.
Bilbo was frowning down at the map on the desk. He tilted his head to the side, then said:
"Well, shouldn't Erebor have a different ruling family, then?"
: : :
Thorin blinked at him, and Bilbo continued:
"I mean, it doesn't seem a very good idea to have a kingdom ruled by a family with hereditary insanity, does it? Kind of a disaster waiting to happen, after all."
Thorin had gone very still, and it made Bilbo feel somewhat uneasy.
"Don't get me wrong, obviously this King Thrór inspires a great deal of devotion, I'm sure he's a great king," he went on hurriedly. "But if his children are already are showing the signs of it--well, it just seems to me that it would be best for Erebor if a different family was in charge, don't you think?"
"So you--a hobbit from the Shire--you have decided that the Line of Durin is unfit to rule Erebor?" Thorin's voice was quiet, yet somehow Bilbo felt trepidation prickle his skin.
"Well, that's a strong word, but...I mean, have you considered elections? They work well in the Shire. That way you dwarves could pick someone intelligent and brave and devoted to Erebor's well-being, and not risk having a ruler you can't get rid of who's...you know...not all there." He smiled nervously at Thorin, who was staring at him. "And then you'd be free to live your life as you chose, not haring around Middle Earth looking for a remedy that might not even exist! You know, if Erebor had elections they could do worse than choose--hey!"
Bilbo broke off with a yelp as Thorin reached out and grabbed him by the collar and seat of his pants and frog-marched him down the corridor to the main hall, ignoring his heated protests. Shoving him into the room so he staggered and sprawled on the stone floor, Thorin pointed at him while the other dwarves stared.
"Keep him out of my sight," Thorin said, his voice flat and cold, "Or I shall throw him to the skeletons myself."
He turned his back and started to stride away down the corridor.
"In Mahal's name, laddie, what did you say to him?" Balin exclaimed.
"I didn't--I didn't say anything that--he's crazy! You're crazy!" Bilbo yelled after Thorin's retreating back. The dwarf's shoulders tensed as if Bilbo's voice was a blow, but he didn't turn around and soon disappeared in the darkness of the library.
"That's not like him at all," Balin said, sharing a look with Dwalin. "All right," he amended at Dwalin's look, "That's extreme for him."
"I was trying to give him a compliment, and he just grabbed me and--" Bilbo broke off, dusting off his clothes angrily. "You know what, never mind, I don't want to talk about it." He squared his shoulders and looked at Kíli and Fíli. "Let's get back to training," he said.
Kíli's face was wrinkled with dismay; he sniffed and rubbed his nose. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Bilbo said firmly. "I'm absolutely sure."
And so he parried and sliced and feinted until his arms were exhausted and his hair soaked with sweat, until Kíli and Fíli finally told him he had to stop and get some sleep, until he was too tired to think about how wretched he felt with Thorin angry at him.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-20 01:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-20 02:48 pm (UTC)LOL!
I suppose formality can be a liability on the battlefield
No way! snort
Aww that whole first scene was just too cute. And them forgetting his name, it's quite realistic I think. I mean that happens all the time when you meet new people.
he still had his lemon drops, after all, and his butterscotch biscuits, and the viola tea. Things weren't so grave. If they managed to get away from Fornost in one piece, he might even still make it home for his birthday after all.
Aw, Bilbo. So sweet. And so delusional still *evil grin*.
one of them elvish languages
Dwarves...
"You'll get distracted and lost and I won't see you for hours. I'm sending the halfling."
Probably true, these two are so young here.
I'm not your manservant, you know!
Why hello Mrs. Hudson! :-)
pair of wire-rimmed glasses low on his nose
I literally squeaked out loud when I read this! Delightful! He would be gruff about the glasses, ah Thooooorin. I may have to draw another pic with the glasses on. Hmm.
"--Don't tell Dwalin," said Thorin.
After all he has his image to hold up!
'When golden thoughts to gentle darkness turn.'"
Oh, beautiful phrase.
They kept nodding, looking thoughtful.
”What does it mean?" asked Bilbo.
"No idea," the brothers said in unison.
I saw that coming, LOL.
Do not presume to lecture dwarves about the properties of metals!
There should be aproverb about this. One Gandalf could recite to Bilbo in the movie...
"And when at last you see your treasure true,
If sacrifice and love can fill your soul,
The dragon's curse shall lose its hold on you
And clarity of vision make you whole."
YAY for title reference! Oh, I can see the future, muble mumble mumble...
"If love could save someone with dragon-sickness," Thorin said, "Then my King--" He broke off, glowering at Bilbo. "It's just poetry."
Oh Thorin, why do you hurt me so?
"That's..." Obsessively single-minded "...very devoted of you," said Bilbo.
Hehe, Bilbo sees right through him.
"I wish I'd never run into any of you." Pushing past a stricken-looking Fíli and Kíli, he hurried from the great hall, looking for a place to be alone with his misery.
Oh no.
Fíli and Kíli looked up at him, their eyes imploring. "Oh, by Durin's beard--all right, I shall have a talk with the hobbit. But I do not promise I shall apologize to him."
Ha, no one can resist the force of Kili and Fili puppy eyes.
I am glad you included some self-reflection here – which I guess scholar!Thorin would be more likely to do... reading broadening your horizons and all that...
The mind wanders in darkness, dwelling only on things rather than people.
Poor Thorin... must have been hard as a child/young adult. And now I am reminded of Bilbo in the movie who will see this side of Thorin, *sniff *
I kept it secret for a very long time."
A poison in and of itself...the secrecy
the curse is in the blood of some families
God, imagine that hanging over your head for the rest of your life.
He fell back on the safety of formal titles,
squishes Thorin...
"Well, shouldn't Erebor have a different ruling family, then?"
Oh my. Hopefully Thorin doesn't overreact.
somehow Bilbo felt trepidation prickle his skin.
Oh oh.
"Keep him out of my sight," Thorin said, his voice flat and cold, "Or I shall throw him to the skeletons myself."
I feared this would happen... Bilbo has much to learn about dwarves, and Thorin in particular.
he's crazy! You're crazy!
OUCH!
Kíli's face was wrinkled with dismay; he sniffed and rubbed his nose. "Are you sure?"
Oh my. Kili and Fili are so soft, for want of a better word, in this AU. Softer even than Bilbo I think.
I'm sad that this chapter ends on a note of unresolved conflict but I feel a very, very sloooooow burn coming on and that's what I like best. *wriggles in anticipation *
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-20 02:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-23 01:24 am (UTC)It definitely happens to me, especially with people from different languages/cultural groups where I don't have a set of associations to go with the name... :)
Why hello Mrs. Hudson! :-)
Oh my God, I didn't hear that echo until you pointed it out, but YES. :) Little Sherlock references keep peeking in here and there, it seems...
I literally squeaked out loud when I read this! Delightful! He would be gruff about the glasses, ah Thooooorin. I may have to draw another pic with the glasses on. Hmm.
Hee, I love it! When I saw your picture I was like, "AHHH it's perfect, but she doesn't know about the glasses yet!" ^-^
YAY for title reference! Oh, I can see the future, muble mumble mumble...
Five chapters in and the title finally comes up, lol! Took it long enough...*glares*
YAY for title reference! Oh, I can see the future, muble mumble mumble...
Yes, yes it is! Good point...he's going to have to come clean to Fili and Kili about it at some point, isn't he? I hadn't really realized that until now... But like you say, they're so sheltered and young in this AU, I can totally understand him wanting to shelter them...
Oh my. Hopefully Thorin doesn't overreact.
*winces* Well, he...doesn't throw him to the skeletons? But yes, the "You're crazy" line made me cringe so much to write, poor Thorin...
Unresolved tension, yay! And boo! :) But...the resolving is always so much fun that it's worth it to me to leave them like this for a bit... *evil grin*
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-23 02:05 pm (UTC)Keep them coming - I'm delighted!
Five chapters in and the title finally comes up, lol! Took it long enough...*glares*
I certainly didn't mind.
Yes, yes it is! Good point...he's going to have to come clean to Fili and Kili about it at some point, isn't he? I hadn't really realized that until now... But like you say, they're so sheltered and young in this AU, I can totally understand him wanting to shelter them...
I assume you mean knowledge of the family curse? (you posted the same quote twice). I hadn't even thought about Fili and Kili - but OMG no! Now it's even more important to find a cure - not just for Thorin himself (I thought of him mainly) - but for all the family.
But...the resolving is always so much fun that it's worth it to me to leave them like this for a bit... *evil grin*
Yes, yes it is. *cackles evilly*