Clarity of Purpose, Chap. 4
Jun. 24th, 2014 11:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mithenTitle: Clarity of Purpose, Chap. 4
Chapter Summary: Thorin and Bilbo travel to Moria and are shown the wonders within by Balin, who rules there.
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Thorin Oakenshield, Gandalf, Balin, Dwalin
Fandom: Hobbit/Lord of the Rings. Begins in 2968, twenty-six years after the events of "Clarity of Vision" and fifty years before the canonical events of "Lord of the Rings." Thus, characters' ages and the geopolitical situation will be different than LoTR canon!
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2700
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.
There were long days spent traveling slow and steady through the empty lands that were once Eregion, its rocky hills covered with snow and dotted with holly trees of glossy green leaves and scarlet berries. Thorin gathered a wreath of them one night and laureled Bilbo's curls with it, making him laugh and redden. It grew bitterly cold, but they had blankets and a cozy fire, and Bilbo managed to make some meals from garlic and potatoes that were a pleasant change from cram. Bilbo remembered it later as a time of happiness, a strange peaceful interval of pale sunlight and ruddy firelight.
They talked of many things: of Fíli's little son, of the battle to take back Khazad-dûm, of tea and gardens and elections. But one thing they never spoke of since that first night: the ring that Bilbo carried.
Gandalf had left them after his argument with Thorin, despite Bilbo's pleas for him to stay. "If my advice shall go so disregarded, I see no point in traveling with you!" he had snapped, and strode off to the north without looking back. Thorin had ignored Bilbo's meaningful throat-clearings and had merely kicked Petunia into a trot, heading east towards the Misty Mountains and the great halls where Bilbo had once freed his friends from Azog's captivity.
The ground grew more rugged and the air more thin as they climbed into the mountains, until at last they found themselves skirting a dark, placid pool. On the far side of the lake, Bilbo could see two dwarven figures in armor, guarding a door. As they drew near, the guards dropped their weapons until Thorin threw back his hood. Then they fell back in amaze and bowed deeply.
"Be welcome, your Majesty, to the halls of Khazad-dûm," said one of the guards, "Where King Balin son of Fundin reigns in glory!"
Petunia snorted at the door in the stone, but when Thorin handed his bridle to the clearly-overawed guard he tossed his head once and allowed himself to be led inside.
Bilbo hesitated before the door, old memories of fire and blood rushing up in his mind, and Thorin gripped his shoulder. "The orcs are gone," he murmured as if he understood Bilbo's reluctance, "And our friend is king. You will find Khazad-dûm much changed, I feel."
Together they stepped into the halls that Durin the Deathless delved, and Bilbo's breath caught in his throat.
Gone was the silent darkness; the walls blazed with opals and moonstones that caught the light and cast it outward in soft prisms, and Bilbo could hear singing in the distance before they had even cleared the first hall. Mithril filigree wound across the shining granite walls in looping curves and whorls, gleaming. He gazed around in wonder: Erebor had been magnificent, but it seemed nearly as homey as the Shire compared to the glory of Khazad-dûm.
Yet it was not empty extravagance, either. The once-ominous corridors now bustled with dwarves going to and fro, their arms heaped with cloth or bread, engaged in animated conversation with each other. Singing echoed everywhere, cheerful and deep, and the dwarves that recognized Thorin stopped to bow or curtsey with a smile.
Thorin gazed with pride as they walked. "Balin has done well," he said.
"It's beautiful," said Bilbo. "But I prefer Erebor," he couldn't help but add.
For a moment he was afraid that Thorin would take offense at the slight to the greatest of all dwarvish cities, but then Thorin leaned close and whispered, "As do I," in Bilbo's ear.
So together they came to the throne room of Khazad-dûm and were announced.
The massive doors, studded with cornelians and lapis lazuli, swung open. Inside was a vast throne of pure white marble, sparkling with diamonds, perhaps the grandest thing Bilbo had ever seen.
It was empty.
"By my beard!" Bilbo turned to see Balin, dressed in the comfortable russet robes he always wore, hastening across the room to meet them. The only sign of his rank was a thin circlet of mithril resting on his forehead. "Bilbo Baggins, is it truly you?"
"And Thorin Oakenshield," said another familiar voice, and Bilbo saw Dwalin standing with his arms crossed behind a great table at the side of the room. "Both of you far from home."
Thorin looked pained at the sobriquet, but didn't complain as Bilbo came forward to embrace Balin. "I'm so glad to see you again, your majesty," Bilbo stammered, but Balin just laughed.
"Please, Bilbo. If Thorin can dispense with titles, surely an old codger like myself can too. I am always just Balin to you."
Dwalin also embraced Bilbo, but his eyes were on Thorin. "This can be no social visit, I fear," he said.
"Indeed, cousin," said Thorin. "Let us take a seat, for I have much to tell you, and we have much to plan."
"...I still cannot believe it," said Balin some time later, as Thorin finished his story and took a drink of water. "That our dear Bilbo may have been carrying the tool to the Enemy's destruction all these years! And all in a simple gold ring. It boggles the mind."
Bilbo put his hand to his pocket as if to draw out the Ring, but Thorin made a small gesture of warning and he forestalled the motion. From his research, Thorin was fairly certain the Ring would hold little sway over his kin, but… to be honest, he did not want to gaze upon it again if necessary. He had already proven to be so weak…
"This is a thing easily solved," growled Dwalin. "We go to the very depths of Moria and bury it in the darkness forever, guarded by the doughtiest of our people. After all, it is high time we cleansed the deep places," he cried, glaring at Thorin. "Only because of our promise to you have we stayed scuttling on the surface like water striders, avoiding the vast deeps. Now is the time to open up Khazad-dûm and create there a prison for the ring of Zabuduzn forever!"
Thorin shook his head. "I extracted that promise from you for a reason," he said, remembering their disbelief and even anger. "I have read of fell things in the depths of Khazad-dûm, darknesses the like of which we cannot even dream of withstanding until our strength here is unassailable. The slayer of Durin lurks there still, and I would not have us face it until we are truly ready. No, the ring cannot stay here."
"Could it not have stayed in the Shire?" asked Bilbo, and Thorin felt once more that stab of regret for the destruction of his quiet life. Bilbo was kind and brave and had sought to assuage his remorse, of course, but Thorin knew he would rather be safe in Bag End, brewing tea and listening to the fire on the hearth.
"The defense of the Shire is too uncertain," he said. "The Rangers of the North guard its borders more than most hobbits know, but if the minions of the Enemy were to come to it, they could do little. The good folk of the Shire would perish or be enslaved, and the West would fall to Sauron."
Bilbo shuddered, hunching his shoulders. "No," he said. "That's no good."
He looked utterly wretched, and Thorin saw Balin take in his exhausted and rumpled state. "A poor host am I indeed," the King of Moria said, "To not offer my old friends food and drink and comfort! We shall speak of these weighty matters later--for now, be welcome in my halls."
Their rooms were in a wing next to Balin's quarters, and were as sumptuous as any king's yet as cozy as any hobbit's: warmed by hidden vents, with a large bed piled high with eiderdown pillows and rich velvet throws. Within an hour, the table was heaped with sausages and bread and cups of mead, and Bilbo and Thorin ate and drank their fill with Balin and Dwalin, toasting their memories and sharing stories of the past decades. Dwalin told the tale of the slaying of the Watcher in the Water, leaping onto his chair to re-create the death-blow. Balin and Thorin caught up on treaties and diplomacy, while Bilbo mostly sat quietly, smiling and nursing his drink. When Dwalin asked him for tales of his time, he simply said, "Oh, nothing of note has happened to me for a long time now," and turned the conversation back to the dwarves.
"You need time to rest," Balin murmured to Thorin as he left their quarters. "Khazad-dûm is well-fortified, nothing of danger can enter unless we let it do so," he said as Thorin opened his mouth to protest. "And you have not seen each other in so long. A few days to be together before we speak of such dire matters will cost us little. Take a few days to recover your strength; then we shall speak of this thing that Bilbo carries."
Thorin sighed, feeling a sense of relief, almost ashamed of it. "Very well then," he said. "A few days to rest will be quite welcome."
"And I shall show you the wonders we have worked in Khazad-dûm," Balin added with a smile.
The next days were full of wonders indeed to Bilbo, and even to Thorin, as they traveled the subterranean streets of Moria on the shaggy, irascible goats the dwarves used to get from place to place--"For horses and ponies spook too easily in these enclosed spaces," Balin explained.
"Petunia handled it just fine," Bilbo said staunchly.
"Few of our horses have the mettle of a stallion of Rohan," Balin laughed.
The King of Moria showed them the glittering pillars of pure opal and moonstone, the mithril-worked walls, the paths studded with lambent gems that glowed as you passed over them, showing you the way.
"If we could but dwelve deeper," growled Dwalin, "We could show you even more to amaze and delight, I am sure of it."
"Peace, Dwalin," said Thorin. "The depths of Khazad-dûm shall be explored soon enough."
"It is already too late for my taste," grumbled Dwalin, but held his peace after that.
Then came the day that Balin led Bilbo and Thorin down a long, sloping shaft with the air of a person who has been saving the best for last. "You'll see," was all he said to Bilbo's puzzled look.
"Wait, is that sunlight?" Bilbo said, peering ahead at the wash of light that filled the air. "But we must be miles below ground!" He picked up the pace, his feet pattering on the smooth stone floor as he moved ahead of them, and Balin gave Thorin a look of smug anticipation.
And indeed, when Bilbo emerged into the vast cave, his face was full of wonder, flooded with golden sunlight that made his hair shine like bronze.
"Mirrors," chuckled Balin at his awestruck look. "We set up a system of mirrors to bring sunlight into the depths and make this possible."
Bilbo took a step into the cave and gasped as his feet encountered grass, a thick carpet of green that stretched out before him. "It's--It's--" He stared out at the tangled undergrowth of fleshy leaves and brilliant flowers, at the blossoming vines that draped the stalagmites, softening their rugged rock into something strange and alien. He took a deep breath, and Thorin realized that the air was heavy with a damp scent of sweet flowers, almost cloying in the closed space.
Balin shifted next to him. "They're not the plants you're used to, laddie, but--"
"No," breathed Bilbo, "It's beautiful." He shook his head. "Strange and new and beautiful." He stepped forward and took one of the succulent leaves between his fingers, almost reverently.
Balin bounced on his toes. "Now, these don't yet compare to the gardens in the depths of Erebor," he said, "But I think one day they'll rival even those." He didn't catch Thorin's quick gesture of warning, going on, "After all, the Lonely Mountain has had more time to work on them, and…"
His voice trailed off as Bilbo looked up from the leaf at Thorin, his gaze suddenly stricken. "You made gardens in Erebor?" Bilbo said.
"Oh," said Balin. "He didn't--well." He cleared his throat. "I'll just let you two explore here and I'll go back to the higher level and...do some paperwork. Sorry," he muttered to Thorin as he turned and fled.
"You made gardens," Bilbo said, his voice low. "For me." He looked down at the scarlet flower under his fingers, not needing to see Thorin's nod. "And then I never came."
Thorin felt his chest constrict at the leaden weight of his voice. Oh, for something physical to fight, something he could cleave asunder! "My people have learned to love them too," he said. "We produce the most delicious hibiscus tea, and the mangos--"
"I never came," Bilbo repeated. He swallowed hard. "I have failed you in so much."
"Never," said Thorin said helplessly. "It was not your fault."
"No?" Bilbo looked at him then, and there was anger and shame in his eyes. "Then whose fault was it that I stayed snug in my hole rather than come to you? Who can I blame but myself?"
"You don't understand, it was--"
"Your majesty!" The breathless interruption came from the entrance, from a young dwarf in messenger greens, her goat chewing its cud irritably at her side. "There is a visitor at the east gate requesting entry! A wizard!"
"The east gate? How did the meddling fool get there?" They had last seen Gandalf on the west side of the Misty Mountains; not for the first time Thorin cursed the wizard's ability to travel more quickly than anyone should.
"King Balin has gone to the gate and begs you to meet with him as soon as you can."
"Of course," said Thorin, and the guard saluted, swinging herself into the saddle and riding off at a clattering gallop. "Well, Bilbo? Shall we go see what our old friend is here to demand of us now?"
Bilbo scrubbed briefly at his eyes, his expression still miserable. "Very well," he muttered. "But this conversation is not done."
"Oh, far from it," Thorin assured him.
Together they hurried toward the East Gate.
Thorin was still annoyed when they finally reached the East Gate. He had chosen his path, and he needed no further interference from the wizard! Balin was already there, Dwalin at his side, and the gate remained closed. "I decided he could wait until both of the dwarven kings were here to receive him," Balin said wryly, and gestured to open the gate.
The heavy stone doors swung slowly open, and the noonday sun flooded in, blindingly brilliant after the comfortable dimness of Khazad-dûm, rendering the outside world a white void. Thorin's eyes watered, but he refused to squint or rub at them, standing with his hands behind his back, neither welcoming nor rejecting. Let Gandalf understand that he was the supplicant here.
"Be welcome in the halls of Khazad-dûm," said Balin in his most formal voice, "Where once Durin ruled in glory. I, Balin son of Fundin, now King of this realm, welcome you to--"
His voice broke off as two--two!--figures stepped into the hall. The second figure was shorter than the tall, lean wizard, taller than a dwarf but broader in the shoulders than any elf--a human in heavy armor, with a helmet on his head. But it was the wizard who held Thorin's attention entirely, as the sun-dazzle left his eyes and revealed flowing white robes and a staff of elegant, smooth ebony.
"I thank you for your welcome, your majesty." The voice was deep and resonant, with an undercurrent of rich amusement. "I suppose I am in some ways your neighbor, so allow me to introduce myself."
He bowed slightly, his eyes twinkling.
"I am Saruman, of Isengard."
Chapter Summary: Thorin and Bilbo travel to Moria and are shown the wonders within by Balin, who rules there.
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Thorin Oakenshield, Gandalf, Balin, Dwalin
Fandom: Hobbit/Lord of the Rings. Begins in 2968, twenty-six years after the events of "Clarity of Vision" and fifty years before the canonical events of "Lord of the Rings." Thus, characters' ages and the geopolitical situation will be different than LoTR canon!
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2700
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.
There were long days spent traveling slow and steady through the empty lands that were once Eregion, its rocky hills covered with snow and dotted with holly trees of glossy green leaves and scarlet berries. Thorin gathered a wreath of them one night and laureled Bilbo's curls with it, making him laugh and redden. It grew bitterly cold, but they had blankets and a cozy fire, and Bilbo managed to make some meals from garlic and potatoes that were a pleasant change from cram. Bilbo remembered it later as a time of happiness, a strange peaceful interval of pale sunlight and ruddy firelight.
They talked of many things: of Fíli's little son, of the battle to take back Khazad-dûm, of tea and gardens and elections. But one thing they never spoke of since that first night: the ring that Bilbo carried.
Gandalf had left them after his argument with Thorin, despite Bilbo's pleas for him to stay. "If my advice shall go so disregarded, I see no point in traveling with you!" he had snapped, and strode off to the north without looking back. Thorin had ignored Bilbo's meaningful throat-clearings and had merely kicked Petunia into a trot, heading east towards the Misty Mountains and the great halls where Bilbo had once freed his friends from Azog's captivity.
The ground grew more rugged and the air more thin as they climbed into the mountains, until at last they found themselves skirting a dark, placid pool. On the far side of the lake, Bilbo could see two dwarven figures in armor, guarding a door. As they drew near, the guards dropped their weapons until Thorin threw back his hood. Then they fell back in amaze and bowed deeply.
"Be welcome, your Majesty, to the halls of Khazad-dûm," said one of the guards, "Where King Balin son of Fundin reigns in glory!"
Petunia snorted at the door in the stone, but when Thorin handed his bridle to the clearly-overawed guard he tossed his head once and allowed himself to be led inside.
Bilbo hesitated before the door, old memories of fire and blood rushing up in his mind, and Thorin gripped his shoulder. "The orcs are gone," he murmured as if he understood Bilbo's reluctance, "And our friend is king. You will find Khazad-dûm much changed, I feel."
Together they stepped into the halls that Durin the Deathless delved, and Bilbo's breath caught in his throat.
Gone was the silent darkness; the walls blazed with opals and moonstones that caught the light and cast it outward in soft prisms, and Bilbo could hear singing in the distance before they had even cleared the first hall. Mithril filigree wound across the shining granite walls in looping curves and whorls, gleaming. He gazed around in wonder: Erebor had been magnificent, but it seemed nearly as homey as the Shire compared to the glory of Khazad-dûm.
Yet it was not empty extravagance, either. The once-ominous corridors now bustled with dwarves going to and fro, their arms heaped with cloth or bread, engaged in animated conversation with each other. Singing echoed everywhere, cheerful and deep, and the dwarves that recognized Thorin stopped to bow or curtsey with a smile.
Thorin gazed with pride as they walked. "Balin has done well," he said.
"It's beautiful," said Bilbo. "But I prefer Erebor," he couldn't help but add.
For a moment he was afraid that Thorin would take offense at the slight to the greatest of all dwarvish cities, but then Thorin leaned close and whispered, "As do I," in Bilbo's ear.
So together they came to the throne room of Khazad-dûm and were announced.
The massive doors, studded with cornelians and lapis lazuli, swung open. Inside was a vast throne of pure white marble, sparkling with diamonds, perhaps the grandest thing Bilbo had ever seen.
It was empty.
"By my beard!" Bilbo turned to see Balin, dressed in the comfortable russet robes he always wore, hastening across the room to meet them. The only sign of his rank was a thin circlet of mithril resting on his forehead. "Bilbo Baggins, is it truly you?"
"And Thorin Oakenshield," said another familiar voice, and Bilbo saw Dwalin standing with his arms crossed behind a great table at the side of the room. "Both of you far from home."
Thorin looked pained at the sobriquet, but didn't complain as Bilbo came forward to embrace Balin. "I'm so glad to see you again, your majesty," Bilbo stammered, but Balin just laughed.
"Please, Bilbo. If Thorin can dispense with titles, surely an old codger like myself can too. I am always just Balin to you."
Dwalin also embraced Bilbo, but his eyes were on Thorin. "This can be no social visit, I fear," he said.
"Indeed, cousin," said Thorin. "Let us take a seat, for I have much to tell you, and we have much to plan."
"...I still cannot believe it," said Balin some time later, as Thorin finished his story and took a drink of water. "That our dear Bilbo may have been carrying the tool to the Enemy's destruction all these years! And all in a simple gold ring. It boggles the mind."
Bilbo put his hand to his pocket as if to draw out the Ring, but Thorin made a small gesture of warning and he forestalled the motion. From his research, Thorin was fairly certain the Ring would hold little sway over his kin, but… to be honest, he did not want to gaze upon it again if necessary. He had already proven to be so weak…
"This is a thing easily solved," growled Dwalin. "We go to the very depths of Moria and bury it in the darkness forever, guarded by the doughtiest of our people. After all, it is high time we cleansed the deep places," he cried, glaring at Thorin. "Only because of our promise to you have we stayed scuttling on the surface like water striders, avoiding the vast deeps. Now is the time to open up Khazad-dûm and create there a prison for the ring of Zabuduzn forever!"
Thorin shook his head. "I extracted that promise from you for a reason," he said, remembering their disbelief and even anger. "I have read of fell things in the depths of Khazad-dûm, darknesses the like of which we cannot even dream of withstanding until our strength here is unassailable. The slayer of Durin lurks there still, and I would not have us face it until we are truly ready. No, the ring cannot stay here."
"Could it not have stayed in the Shire?" asked Bilbo, and Thorin felt once more that stab of regret for the destruction of his quiet life. Bilbo was kind and brave and had sought to assuage his remorse, of course, but Thorin knew he would rather be safe in Bag End, brewing tea and listening to the fire on the hearth.
"The defense of the Shire is too uncertain," he said. "The Rangers of the North guard its borders more than most hobbits know, but if the minions of the Enemy were to come to it, they could do little. The good folk of the Shire would perish or be enslaved, and the West would fall to Sauron."
Bilbo shuddered, hunching his shoulders. "No," he said. "That's no good."
He looked utterly wretched, and Thorin saw Balin take in his exhausted and rumpled state. "A poor host am I indeed," the King of Moria said, "To not offer my old friends food and drink and comfort! We shall speak of these weighty matters later--for now, be welcome in my halls."
Their rooms were in a wing next to Balin's quarters, and were as sumptuous as any king's yet as cozy as any hobbit's: warmed by hidden vents, with a large bed piled high with eiderdown pillows and rich velvet throws. Within an hour, the table was heaped with sausages and bread and cups of mead, and Bilbo and Thorin ate and drank their fill with Balin and Dwalin, toasting their memories and sharing stories of the past decades. Dwalin told the tale of the slaying of the Watcher in the Water, leaping onto his chair to re-create the death-blow. Balin and Thorin caught up on treaties and diplomacy, while Bilbo mostly sat quietly, smiling and nursing his drink. When Dwalin asked him for tales of his time, he simply said, "Oh, nothing of note has happened to me for a long time now," and turned the conversation back to the dwarves.
"You need time to rest," Balin murmured to Thorin as he left their quarters. "Khazad-dûm is well-fortified, nothing of danger can enter unless we let it do so," he said as Thorin opened his mouth to protest. "And you have not seen each other in so long. A few days to be together before we speak of such dire matters will cost us little. Take a few days to recover your strength; then we shall speak of this thing that Bilbo carries."
Thorin sighed, feeling a sense of relief, almost ashamed of it. "Very well then," he said. "A few days to rest will be quite welcome."
"And I shall show you the wonders we have worked in Khazad-dûm," Balin added with a smile.
The next days were full of wonders indeed to Bilbo, and even to Thorin, as they traveled the subterranean streets of Moria on the shaggy, irascible goats the dwarves used to get from place to place--"For horses and ponies spook too easily in these enclosed spaces," Balin explained.
"Petunia handled it just fine," Bilbo said staunchly.
"Few of our horses have the mettle of a stallion of Rohan," Balin laughed.
The King of Moria showed them the glittering pillars of pure opal and moonstone, the mithril-worked walls, the paths studded with lambent gems that glowed as you passed over them, showing you the way.
"If we could but dwelve deeper," growled Dwalin, "We could show you even more to amaze and delight, I am sure of it."
"Peace, Dwalin," said Thorin. "The depths of Khazad-dûm shall be explored soon enough."
"It is already too late for my taste," grumbled Dwalin, but held his peace after that.
Then came the day that Balin led Bilbo and Thorin down a long, sloping shaft with the air of a person who has been saving the best for last. "You'll see," was all he said to Bilbo's puzzled look.
"Wait, is that sunlight?" Bilbo said, peering ahead at the wash of light that filled the air. "But we must be miles below ground!" He picked up the pace, his feet pattering on the smooth stone floor as he moved ahead of them, and Balin gave Thorin a look of smug anticipation.
And indeed, when Bilbo emerged into the vast cave, his face was full of wonder, flooded with golden sunlight that made his hair shine like bronze.
"Mirrors," chuckled Balin at his awestruck look. "We set up a system of mirrors to bring sunlight into the depths and make this possible."
Bilbo took a step into the cave and gasped as his feet encountered grass, a thick carpet of green that stretched out before him. "It's--It's--" He stared out at the tangled undergrowth of fleshy leaves and brilliant flowers, at the blossoming vines that draped the stalagmites, softening their rugged rock into something strange and alien. He took a deep breath, and Thorin realized that the air was heavy with a damp scent of sweet flowers, almost cloying in the closed space.
Balin shifted next to him. "They're not the plants you're used to, laddie, but--"
"No," breathed Bilbo, "It's beautiful." He shook his head. "Strange and new and beautiful." He stepped forward and took one of the succulent leaves between his fingers, almost reverently.
Balin bounced on his toes. "Now, these don't yet compare to the gardens in the depths of Erebor," he said, "But I think one day they'll rival even those." He didn't catch Thorin's quick gesture of warning, going on, "After all, the Lonely Mountain has had more time to work on them, and…"
His voice trailed off as Bilbo looked up from the leaf at Thorin, his gaze suddenly stricken. "You made gardens in Erebor?" Bilbo said.
"Oh," said Balin. "He didn't--well." He cleared his throat. "I'll just let you two explore here and I'll go back to the higher level and...do some paperwork. Sorry," he muttered to Thorin as he turned and fled.
"You made gardens," Bilbo said, his voice low. "For me." He looked down at the scarlet flower under his fingers, not needing to see Thorin's nod. "And then I never came."
Thorin felt his chest constrict at the leaden weight of his voice. Oh, for something physical to fight, something he could cleave asunder! "My people have learned to love them too," he said. "We produce the most delicious hibiscus tea, and the mangos--"
"I never came," Bilbo repeated. He swallowed hard. "I have failed you in so much."
"Never," said Thorin said helplessly. "It was not your fault."
"No?" Bilbo looked at him then, and there was anger and shame in his eyes. "Then whose fault was it that I stayed snug in my hole rather than come to you? Who can I blame but myself?"
"You don't understand, it was--"
"Your majesty!" The breathless interruption came from the entrance, from a young dwarf in messenger greens, her goat chewing its cud irritably at her side. "There is a visitor at the east gate requesting entry! A wizard!"
"The east gate? How did the meddling fool get there?" They had last seen Gandalf on the west side of the Misty Mountains; not for the first time Thorin cursed the wizard's ability to travel more quickly than anyone should.
"King Balin has gone to the gate and begs you to meet with him as soon as you can."
"Of course," said Thorin, and the guard saluted, swinging herself into the saddle and riding off at a clattering gallop. "Well, Bilbo? Shall we go see what our old friend is here to demand of us now?"
Bilbo scrubbed briefly at his eyes, his expression still miserable. "Very well," he muttered. "But this conversation is not done."
"Oh, far from it," Thorin assured him.
Together they hurried toward the East Gate.
Thorin was still annoyed when they finally reached the East Gate. He had chosen his path, and he needed no further interference from the wizard! Balin was already there, Dwalin at his side, and the gate remained closed. "I decided he could wait until both of the dwarven kings were here to receive him," Balin said wryly, and gestured to open the gate.
The heavy stone doors swung slowly open, and the noonday sun flooded in, blindingly brilliant after the comfortable dimness of Khazad-dûm, rendering the outside world a white void. Thorin's eyes watered, but he refused to squint or rub at them, standing with his hands behind his back, neither welcoming nor rejecting. Let Gandalf understand that he was the supplicant here.
"Be welcome in the halls of Khazad-dûm," said Balin in his most formal voice, "Where once Durin ruled in glory. I, Balin son of Fundin, now King of this realm, welcome you to--"
His voice broke off as two--two!--figures stepped into the hall. The second figure was shorter than the tall, lean wizard, taller than a dwarf but broader in the shoulders than any elf--a human in heavy armor, with a helmet on his head. But it was the wizard who held Thorin's attention entirely, as the sun-dazzle left his eyes and revealed flowing white robes and a staff of elegant, smooth ebony.
"I thank you for your welcome, your majesty." The voice was deep and resonant, with an undercurrent of rich amusement. "I suppose I am in some ways your neighbor, so allow me to introduce myself."
He bowed slightly, his eyes twinkling.
"I am Saruman, of Isengard."
(no subject)
Date: 2014-06-24 11:43 am (UTC)GARDENS. HE MADE UNDERGROUND GARDENS FOR BILBO. *sobbing forever*
(no subject)
Date: 2014-06-24 02:07 pm (UTC)And the gardens! They're right from LOTRO, lol, as are the goats. ;) And the image of Thorin painstakingly planning and delegating gardens deep within Erebor just doesn't bear thinking of, it wrenches my heart. T_T
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-16 09:41 pm (UTC)Thorin gathered a wreath of them one night and laureled Bilbo's curls with it
THORIN'S BELOVED MUST BE DECORATED ACCORDING TO HIS STATUS ALWAYS.
I am glad he's having some happiness, finally!
"If my advice shall go so disregarded, I see no point in traveling with you!"
Gandalf can be a bit of a … spoiled child, erm wizard, sometimes...
had merely kicked Petunia into a trot
I will forever laugh about this name.
Gone was the silent darkness; the walls blazed with opals and moonstones that caught the light and cast it outward in soft prisms,
WOW. Even dark and deserted I found Moria to be a beautiful place and I am so happy to „see“ it here in its full glory!
"It's beautiful," said Bilbo. "But I prefer Erebor," he couldn't help but add.
Oh well done Bilbo, well done. This should bring some warmth back into Thorin's heart.
Thorin looked pained at the sobriquet,
I remember his letter... ONLY THORIN MANAGES TO REMEMBER HIS HEROIC DEEDS AS AN EMBARRASSMENT
He had already proven to be so weak…
No no no NO! *fetches hammer to beat some sense into Thorin *
Within an hour, the table was heaped with sausages and bread and cups of mead,
*goes to get some food *
"You need time to rest," Balin murmured
THANK YOU BALIN, from the depths of my heart, for looking out for my beloved dwarf
"Mirrors," chuckled Balin at his awestruck look. "We set up a system of mirrors to bring sunlight into the depths and make this possible."
oooooh! Thsi reminds me of the film Legend where they defeated the Lord of Darkness with mirrors.
He didn't catch Thorin's quick gesture of warning, going on, "After all, the Lonely Mountain has had more time to work on them, and…"
Oh no. Oh no no. I'm going to cry. Thorin made gardens for Bilbo so he would feel at home in Erebor, Oh God. This is it's beautiful but all I can think of is that Thorin in his desperation because Bilbo continued to make excuses thought of a way to make Erebor more like the Shire but then it still didn't work because Bilbo didn't even come to see it and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Thorin felt his chest constrict at the leaden weight of his voice.
I see Thorin sitting in those gardens sometimes, and imagining Bilbo there with him and what Bilbo would think of them and if he could improve them somehow and then being so utterly lonely and WHY DO YOU KEEP BREAKING MY HEART?
"You don't understand, it was--"
Yes yes yes it was the evil ring BUT THAT DOESN'T MAKE THE HURT GO AWAY DOES IT?
What why Saruman and who is the second one OMG?! I really need to continue tomorrow instead of putting off going to bed tonight. Grrrrr. I will be back!
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-24 04:09 am (UTC)I am glad he's having some happiness, finally!
I love seeing him grab every single instant of happiness he can...
WOW. Even dark and deserted I found Moria to be a beautiful place and I am so happy to „see“ it here in its full glory!
I know! It made me so happy to be able to write it and give Balin the kingdom he deserves...
I remember his letter... ONLY THORIN MANAGES TO REMEMBER HIS HEROIC DEEDS AS AN EMBARRASSMENT
I confess that was one of my favorite things in that chapter, the idea that Thorin would be like "I lost my weapons! I almost died and it was just dumb luck there was a stick there! WHY ARE YOU ALL MAKING FUN OF ME CALLING ME THAT?"
I see Thorin sitting in those gardens sometimes, and imagining Bilbo there with him and what Bilbo would think of them and if he could improve them somehow and then being so utterly lonely and WHY DO YOU KEEP BREAKING MY HEART?
I DON'T KNOW, poor Thorin! Because you're right, and the story hides it a bit because Thorin doesn't like to dwell on it and Bilbo doesn't exactly know, but... I'm really glad you can see it!
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-30 05:47 pm (UTC)There is art in there I can feel it but I'm not sure I have the heart to draw Thorin alone in that garden and being depressed... :-(