Chapter Text
Bilbo had just emerged from his washroom, bathed, dressed, and deciding on dinner when a runner had delivered the news about the feast for Marlok. He took it that his talks with Thorin had gone well and stifled the pang of annoyance that Thorin seemed to be able to talk to Marlok, a dwarf he hadn’t seen in years, but not the lone hobbit he asked to remain in his mountain. Bilbo flicked at the bead hanging by his head wondering just what he had done to earn the king’s ire lately because it was overly obvious that whatever problem lay between them was, in fact, personal.
It was time that Bilbo took a confidant into his trust. Someone who he could confess his desires to court Thorin to who would have both his and Thorin’s best interests at heart. Someone who could mediate the situation with no strong attachment to the outcome. In the Shire, Bilbo had played this role many times as he was a bachelor, and therefore wouldn’t be influenced by the decisions of his spouse, and he was friendly with many, but not close with most. It was a role he had been well suited for and one he had not thought he would ever need to fill in his own life. Of which, he didn’t regret needing the position, just despairing the lack of possibilities to fill it.
Because he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there were twelve nosy dwarves who would be far too ecstatic if Bilbo asked, and that was the problem. Confidants who were overly invested in the interests of one or both parties might push them one way or another based on their own biases. Yet, eliminating the company completely depleted him of his list of people he could ask. There were a handful of dwarves, mostly council members, guards, or shopkeepers, that Bilbo was friendly with. However, he didn’t trust them not to treat Thorin as anything less than ‘a king’, and Bilbo was quite certain he didn’t measure up in that regard. Bard had been a viable option for awhile, but he was a Man, and if Bilbo needed any help navigating unfamiliar dwarven customs, he would be just as lost.
That’s when Bilbo paused in his pacing as he was hit with an idea. What about Marlok? The dwarf was royal as well, he was once good friends with Thorin, and obviously seemed to be highly regarded if they were going to throw a feast for him. The only issue was that Bilbo didn’t know him well, but perhaps he could change that. He could spend some time with him, suss out his character, and perhaps win him over enough that he would be willing to help Bilbo. It was actually quite perfect the more Bilbo thought about it. Something that followed him all the way to dinner that evening as he strategically placed himself in the seat next to Marlok, instead of the one beside Thorin like he usually did. Balin had only paused for a moment, but seemed to take the seat reassignment well. Marlok also didn’t seem too upset with having Bilbo nearby as he gave the hobbit a large grin.
“Feeling better?” He asked.
“Uh, yes.” Bilbo responded, feeling a bit out of sorts over the way he stomped off. “Turns out being wet was offensive to myself as well.”
Marlok laughed, his hand coming to rest against the back of his chair.
“Well if it makes you feel better it wasn’t offensive to me.” Marlok remarked, his eyes trailing Bilbo’s form before he waggled his eyebrows.
Bilbo laughed so hard, he snorted. Bilbo had known his fair share of shameless flirts. Leggy Goold, in particular, had the reputation of being able to charm the fish out of the creek and right into his net, and Bilbo had certainly not been an exception. However, he had learned from the wide-eyed stares wherever he went that while passable in the Shire, he was no great prize in Erebor. If anything, Bilbo saw Marlok’s teasing as an opportunity for a friendship to form, making him feel better about his choice in potential confidant.
“We were telling Marlok about the quest.” Fili pointed out, a tight smile on his face.
“Aye, and then he was telling us about what a handful Thorin used to be.” Dori snorted.
Bilbo laughed along with the rest of them as they swapped stories between trolls and Thorin’s poor directional skills that he hadn’t seemed to grow out of at all. Bilbo looked over at the king, only for his eyes to be stuck to his meal. Stiffly he ate from his plate, not making eye contact with anyone as Bilbo could observe. Whatever troubled the king it was not something Bilbo was privy to at the moment. Even Balin failed at pulling the dwarf into quiet conversation more than once. The stubborn furrow in his brow suggested that something troubled him greatly, and it caused Bilbo’s heart to squeeze, wishing Thorin would confide in him. That he might see the king as happy and carefree as Marlok’s stories made him out to be.
Bilbo waited until most of the company had cleared out for the night before approaching Thorin. He gave the dwarf a sheepish grin as he just looked at him. Thorin's hand was fiddling with an object in his pocket seemingly still deep in thought.
“Are you still cross with me?” Bilbo asked.
Thorin looked up, the hand disappeared back into his long velvet robes. Even under his beard Bilbo noticed the muscles around his mouth stiffening up.
“No! Bilbo, I…I’m glad that you’re alright. I should have said so earlier.”
“You should have.” Bilbo agreed with a raised eyebrow, watching the king raise his shoulders further. “But I am glad you said it now. Are you okay?”
“Me?” Thorin questioned. He was not looking at Bilbo.
“You look…troubled. Is there something I can help with?” Bilbo offered.
Thorin’s expression seemed to wafer before his shoulders finally deflated slightly.
“Actually…there is something for which I could use your company.” Thorin admitted.
“Anything!” Bilbo jumped at the chance.
“Recently the miners uncovered another tunnel in the old district. Perhaps... we could travel it and see what we make of it.”
Bilbo chuckled. “After all the stories tonight, I would think that you would want Marlok for the task of investigating hidden tunnels. ”
Thorin’s brows furrowed again. “No! That’s not…”
Before he could explain any further, Marlok popped up beside Bilbo.
“What about me?” He asked.
When Thorin remained silent, Bilbo took it upon himself to explain.
“Thorin wanted us to go investigate a hidden tunnel.”
“I’m up for it! It’ll be like old times.” The red head grinned and punched Thorin's shoulder.
“Let’s hope not too much.” Bilbo admonished with a grin. “I’m not looking to stumble into any subterranean lakes.”
“Ah, yes. Your offending wetness. Wouldn’t that be such a shame to…”
“Forget it!” Thorin interrupted quite suddenly causing both Bilbo and Marlok to blink at him in confusion. “Just…forget it. I fear I currently have far too much going on for such an extended tour, but please. Enjoy the beauty of Erebor to your hearts’ content. Excuse me.”
Bilbo tried to call after Thorin, but the dwarf had already turned on heel and started marching away. He let his shoulders sag as he released a sigh. Still unable to breach the divide, it would seem. How deep could they go before the canyon became completely unpassable? Bilbo hoped he would never have to find out, and when he retired to bed it was with a deep set determination that he would win over Marlok and settle things with Thorin once and for all.
***
The bell just outside Bilbo’s door rang shrilly throughout the room causing Bilbo to abandon his perfectly steeped cuppa to answer it. He wasn’t quite sure who would need him this morning. He thought it might be Bombur, after having tried the recipe he gave him. He thought it might be Dori looking to show off the tapestry he had been working so hard on lately. He hoped it would be Thorin, finally looking to talk to him. Who he got was Fili.
“Oh. Hello, there.” Bilbo greeted with a strained smile.
“Might I join you, Master Boggins?” The golden prince teased.
“Of course.” Bilbo stepped aside, looking out in the hall to see if maybe his uncle might be looming just out of sight only to close the door once more with a small sigh.
It wasn’t that he disliked the dwarf’s company. For all that he was young, Fili had a good head on his shoulders and an eagerness to embrace his new role in the mountain. He often would stop by Bilbo’s rooms to talk through a problem he’s come across, citing that he valued the hobbit’s opinion, and Bilbo was less likely to just do it himself like his uncle was sometimes prone to do. However, Fili had a tendency to overstay his welcome, especially with Kili gone to the Greenwoods right now. Then there were the gifts that seemed to exasperate them both, but Bilbo didn’t spy anything on his person so he thought he was at least spared that particular headache for the time being.
“How do you feel about attending a guild meeting this afternoon?” Fili asked conversationally.
His expression perked up when he eyed the fresh plate of biscuits that Bilbo had made that morning. Bilbo encouraged him to help himself, always pleased when his baking was appreciated.
“I think if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer a second dragon.” Bilbo said while he poured Fili a second cup of tea.
Fili barked a laugh even if he looked pained. “Uncle has asked that I oversee the meeting myself. I don’t fancy the potential headache, and I’m sure Lord Bumar will just be waiting for the chance for me to make a mistake so he can capitalize on it in the name of ‘free markets’.”
Bilbo had to resist the urge to scowl at the older dwarf’s name. Lord Bumar was a particularly cranky old geezer who thought he knew better than anyone, and while that easily described a vast majority of Bilbo’s uncles, Bilbo couldn’t stand Bumar. Mostly because he looks down upon most of the company believing them unworthy of the position and titles they now hold, nevermind that he hadn’t lifted a finger to help Thorin himself. Bilbo found himself especially centered at the dwarf’s hatred. Bilbo assumed for being nothing more than a hobbit, but who knew with Bumar.
“So we’re absolutely certain Smaug is the last of his kind then?”
Fili laughed, causing him to choke on his second biscuit as Bilbo gave his knee a fond pat.
“No, in all seriousness, Fili, I think you need to look at this from an objectionable standpoint. What is the root of the problem here?”
“Money.” Fili answered with a shrug.
Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Are we already out?”
“No, but people want more.” He complained. “Not too long ago these same people were living like lower class citizens. They finally get the chance to feel noble again, and they are suspicious and greedy with their coin.”
Bilbo rubbed their chin. “So they need to feel like everything is fair from their perspective?”
“Exactly!” Fili complained. “Only, it’s not fair, and it never can be fair. Now that we have precious gems and metals to work with again, the jewelers’ guild is being flooded with new members, scrambling to take up positions that their parents or grandparents had held once before. The markets charge rent by stalls, well with more jewelers that means more rent from that particular guild, but it also means more chances to get commissions which impacts the smiths’ business opportunities.”
So in short, the markets are mad that the smiths have to raise their prices to get the same revenue that the jewelers do, the smiths are mad that the jewelers keep taking their jobs, and the jewelers are mad because they pay almost double what anyone else does to the markets. This, Bilbo did have some knowledge in. After all, the Baggins family had been in charge of the Shire markets for years, and while it was nowhere near the scale of Erebor’s markets, the concept of ‘fair’ and ‘equal’ trade was one he knew well.
“Fili, part of leadership is not leveling the field, but planting your crops in just the right place to hide the mounds.”
“I don’t follow.” The dwarf shrugged.
Bilbo sighed. “Take this one step at a time. What do the jewelers want?”
“To…make jewelry?” Fili answered uncertainly with his mouth full, spraying crumbs everywhere.
“Okay.” Bilbo answered patiently, sweeping them off his tunic with a grimace. “And what’s stopping them from doing that?”
“It’s expensive.”
“So let’s minimize the expense. Instead of every jeweler setting up a stall in the market, what if they were on a rotation system? And all commissions would be brought back to the guild house for the best fit to work on.”
“And then the smiths won’t know the actual volume of commissions they are getting!” Fili realized, sitting up straighter in his chair.
“Now let’s get to the topic of your smiths. They want jobs, and no one is giving it to them. So what could the crown do to help them feel like their work is valued?”
Fili frowned. “Create jobs, but we’ve already had supports recreated and machines rebuilt.”
“Think less about what is needed and more about what is wanted.” Bilbo offered.
He could tell the moment Fili had something as the dwarf’s eyes lit up, the blue reminding Bilbo so much of his uncle.
“Decor. Many of the stone decorations were destroyed by Smaug. We could have metalwork to replace them!”
Bilbo smiled and nodded in agreement. “And then they won’t care what’s happening with the jewelers because they have been given a very important assignment from the prince himself. And the markets will appreciate the feud lessening their headache.”
“Thanks, Uncle Bilbo! That helps a lot. Are you sure you still don't want to join me? You know, in case I mess it up.”
Bilbo squeezed the lad’s shoulder.
“You won’t mess it up, but if things go awry, give me a call and I will come help any way I can.”
Fili thanked him eagerly as he approached the door to leave.
“You know, you could have a role in this ruling business yourself if you wanted.”
Bilbo gave a forced chuckle. In all actuality, Balin has pressed Bilbo multiple times about joining the council permanently. It wasn’t something Bilbo was opposed to as he had held council positions before in the Shire, and felt like it would be nice to feel like he was actually doing something to aid Erebor in its recovery, he dare not get too close. He feared dearly showing his hand at how much he wanted that place at Thorin’s side.
“Best leave it to you and your uncle for now.” He remarked dryly.
Fili shrugged. “If you ever change your mind, you already look the part.”
He flicked at the braid that hung down beside Bilbo’s ear with a small smile. Bilbo tampered down on the irritation he felt at the reminder. Right. The oath made on Thorin’s death bed. The one that assured him the protection of the royal line. The one that has colored all their interactions since to the point that Bilbo felt me might just go mad himself. How could he have forgotten? Bilbo would not pile his struggles onto Fili though as he did his best to politely shoo the young dwarf out the door. His mood for company vanishing rather quickly with only a few short words. Fili had barely taken a handful of steps when he suddenly stopped, remembering something. Bilbo’s dread intensified. And here he thought they were going to avoid this unnecessary ritual.
“Ahhh, I know I said last time was…well the last time.” Fili joked nervously. “But well…turns out, I have another gift from Uncle.”
Bilbo thought he might roll his eyes as the dwarf dug through his pockets to pull out the golden bauble. It looked like a large golden apple, and the more Bilbo inspected it, the more he realized it was in fact…a large golden apple. That was even the name of it as Fili called it a tabluakhgâr or “apple of scents” showing Bilbo how he can press the hidden mechanism at the stem and it would fall into individual apple slices. The “core” containing the vial of scented oil.
“And it has a chain you can attach to the inside of your waistcoat pocket in case it falls out.” Fili continued to point out the wonders of the mathom.
Bilbo was quite sure that he would know if it fell out even without the chain as the weight of the object would have some effect on his balance. Also, what was the point in giving him such a gift? Was Thorin trying to imply that he smelt? The woodsy scent coming from the apple was so overpowering that Bilbo couldn’t imagine how that would be an improvement to Bilbo’s current odor.
“Fili.” Bilbo asked carefully. “This is still…important with regards to my braid, right?”
Fili looked like he was trying his best to maintain his cheerful attitude.
“It is! And obviously you are welcome to reject the gift at any time.”
Even saying so, Bilbo could tell from his expression that there would be something dire about rejecting one of these gifts. Which was mostly the reason why he hadn’t marched out the door and chunked one at Thorin Oakenshield’s big fat head.
“With the understanding that I’m a hobbit and that obviously I would never want to do anything intentionally to disrespect your culture, your race, or your uncle…do the gifts ever…stop?”
Fili hesitated, his expression unreadable for a long moment before finally sighing.
“Sort of. But that would require Thorin to do this directly.”
And the implication was that he was not about to face Bilbo any time soon.
“Oh.” He stated, trying not to look as forlorn as he felt.
Fili put a hand on his shoulder before gently pressing his forehead against his own.
“Be patient with him. He’s…struggling a lot right now. But all wounds scar eventually.”
Or you succumbed to them if they weren’t looked after properly. Bilbo forced a smile to his face as he thanked Fili for his words. He watched the dwarf leave after nicking one last biscuit from his plate before sighing and turning to his mathom cabinet in the corner of the room. Dinky Delving he dubbed the large prominent piece of furniture at some point. But as the shelves had started to fill up with objects and trinkets, the silly title no longer seemed appropriate. He traced the acorns etched around the mountain rising out of the frosted glass doors before carefully opening it up. Jewelry and puzzle boxes, letter openers and plated book covers all rested on the different leveled shelves. Even Sting and his glittering mithril mail had a place at the bottom.
Each piece was beautifully crafted and expertly adorned. Vines and flowers featured strongest, but Bilbo also had ravens, abstract patterns, and even a recreation of his hobbit hole all staring at him waiting to be worn. To be used for more than just a humble display. And he would. He absolutely would wear them in a heartbeat if for no other reason than Thorin made it, if he couldn’t stand the sight of gold.
He had wondered briefly before if this was some lingering effect of the goldsickness. He had watched Thorin closely enough that he was quite sure the dwarf wasn’t sick himself, but maybe his quick recovery had manifested itself into leaving Bilbo’s these shiny baubles. Much like how a raven decorated their nest in glittering objects. Only, why give them to Bilbo then? What about his braid did he not understand completely? It was a puzzling dilemma that Bilbo found he didn’t have much time to deliberate on lest he give himself a headache so early in the day.
He gently placed the apple in an open space, trying to get it to balance as it knocked into the next object, and Bilbo’s silly little magic ring came spilling out. Bilbo gave a chuckle and chastised the object good-naturedly as he put it back in its place. Yes, not even his ring, useful and desirable as it was, could tempt Bilbo into carrying gold. Closing the cabinet once more, Bilbo readied himself for the day. His first task, to find Marlok.
***
Asking around, Bilbo did not have a hard time finding his way back to the docks and Marlok’s ship. Thoiti, who Bilbo took to be Marlok’s second in command, seemed suspicious when Bilbo called up asking for Marlok, but relented in fetching his prince. The red head bounded down the gangplank with his usual enthusiasm, and seemed delighted in the prospect of a tour.
Bilbo had thought about Thorin’s offer the previous night, and even though he was downheartened that the king would not join them, the idea of showing off the reclaimed Erebor might not be a bad one. Bilbo had found reminiscing was one of the easiest ways to get to know someone, and based on last night, Marlok had no shortage of stories from his visits here.
“Thoiti! Gather up what cargo you can and see if you can’t make some trades while we’re here. Bilbo and I will meet you down in the markets when we’re done.”
“Aye, Captain!” The dwarf saluted.
“Do you prefer ‘captain’ to ‘prince’?” Bilbo asked after they were a little ways away.
Marlok shrugged. “I’ve spent too long at sea for ‘captain’ not to come naturally, and ‘prince’…has connotations I would rather not be reminded of.”
Bilbo tilted his head intent on asking more about that before a hand stopped him from entering one of the tunnels.
“Careful there!” Bofur exclaimed.
Bilbo spun around to see Dwalin and Thorin were just behind him. Dwalin nodded in greeting, and Thorin, after a complete cursory glance of his person, had turned away with a scowl in place.
“Isn’t this the tunnel that used to go straight to our rooms when we stayed here at the palace?” Marlok asked.
Bofur nodded. “I reckon they were. Wouldn’t be a good idea to explore now. There’s a crack in the load-bearing wall. But if we try takin’ the tunnel out, we risk losing the one above it and the two beside it in the process.”
Marlok hissed. “That’s a significant crack. Can you reinforce the structure by narrowing it in a bit?”
Bofur seemed very excited to talk about tunnels with someone as he pulled out his map and held it out for the red head to take a look.
“We could put temporary supports in here…and here. That’ll keep us from losing the ceiling in the process. And we can actually blow out the two sides, making it a wide opening here that tapers off into three separate tunnels back here.”
Marlok hummed. “You could also consider thinning the tunnel above here, which might take some of the pressure off. Back in the Red Mountains, we used to have a kind of clay that when it was wet, it would turn into a putty, but when it hardened it was almost as good as stone itself. I could see if we have any mix on the ship…”
“Captain! You better come here for a moment!”
They looked back to see Thoiti was standing off to the side, looking up at Marlok with a grim look. Marlok almost seemed to roll his eyes before excusing himself. Bilbo turned back to watch the Thoiti gesture towards one of the crates as Marlok hit a hand to his face, pacing back and forth. Bilbo was so invested in the scene, he almost didn’t realize Thorin had stopped beside him.
“So…you and Marlok.” He growled.
“I’m sorry, is there a problem with my wanting to visit with Marlok?” Bilbo asked dryly.
Thorin’s hackles almost seemed to raise, but his face remained as neutral as he continued to look off into the distance.
“Who said it was a problem?” Thorin spat.
“You did tell us to ‘enjoy the beauty of Erebor’ before you stormed off last night, I will remind you.”
Thorin turned away, his hands tightly gripping each other behind his back.
“Did Fili stop by to see you today?”
Bilbo flinched, caught off-guard by the question.
“Yes, he did.”
Thorin’s eyes roamed his person again, and Bilbo immediately caught onto what he was looking for.
“You know, usually gift-givers know how well their efforts are received by being the ones to gift them.”
Thorin flushed, his eyes snapping back to Bilbo’s with a wild sort of desperation to them.
“What do you think I’ve been trying…?!”
Thorin stopped when a sneeze reminded them of the other dwarves standing there. Bofur and Dwalin were unashamedly looking at them until the moment they were caught.
“Right! Dwalin, have I shown you this tunnel yet? Beautiful craftsmanship.” Bofur rambled as he started walking off to one of the other paths.
Dwalin just snorted and shook his head at both of them before following Bofur. Bilbo stood there awkwardly wondering if it was even worth starting the conversation back up again when Marlok reappeared at his side.
“Sorry about that. Ready to start the tour?” He asked Bilbo.
Bilbo looked to Thorin, waiting, hoping, that the dwarf would complete his thought first. Give him some insight into what he was thinking. Instead, he closed off completely as he gave them both a single nod and walked over to Dwalin and Bofur. Bilbo heaved a small sigh before shoving it away and turning brightly to Marlok.
“Yes, let’s get started.”
After Marlok’s help in getting him turned the right way again, Bilbo started in the royal halls, talking about the renovations they had to do after Smaug nearly tore the rooms apart to get at the gold in Thror’s bedchamber. Very little of it had been salvageable so they saved the rooms that they could and extended into what had once been the guest wing. Most of the company and their families lived in this corner of the mountain, with the exception of Bofur who wanted to be further underground where he felt the most comfortable with Bifur joining him, and Nori who seemed to come and go where he pleased. Which mostly was in and out of Dwalin’s bed, but Bilbo was not about to explain that to Marlok.
As their path continued down, they passed the raven’s roost where Bilbo stopped and cooed at the hatchlings. He had been told that the ravens, other than the important line, did not receive names until they were tasked with their job. So Azbad delivered messages between the King of Dale and the King of Erebor. Subjrukhs scouted the countryside to spy on orc activity. Thaiku worked with Bofur on exploring mining tunnels. While Bilbo respected this tradition, it did not stop him from giving names to the hatchlings anyways, and most of the dwarves in charge of the care of the ravens seemed amused by his names of Heron, Sparrow, Hawk, and Thrush.
Bilbo finally managed to pull himself away to continue to the main level where they passed the ram paddocks, paused at the entrance to the mining tunnels, before moving on to the guild halls and markets. Marlok was mostly quiet and pensive during the trip with a few comments here and there. Bilbo finally managed to stop jabbering to check and make sure he was okay.
“It’s so…odd.” He remarked with a smile and a small shake of his head. “Thorin and I used to use a secret passage right there behind that statue and it’s…not there anymore. It’s completely caved in, but that archway we carved our initials into is still standing. It’s just…odd what seemed to survive and what didn’t.”
Bilbo surveyed their surroundings in a new light. He supposed he had never considered that before. Thorin always talked about the rebuilding in terms of zones and structural damage, but how much of this was memories for him as well. Memories that were buried beneath rubble, and memories that still shined like no time had passed at all.
“Did your family visit Erebor a lot then?” Bilbo asked.
Marlok grinned. “For a while there, yeah. Old Thror was looking to expand an empire for reasons we…don’t have to get into. My clan, the Stiffbeards, are known for their naval prowess. I think Thror was looking to control the whole of Aklah'ân (the River Running). Let only trade run through Erebor on it, and my father was negotiating with him intently about it. That went on for about a few years, but in the end…”
“The dragon came.” Bilbo finished softly.
Marlok gave him a tight nod. “I can’t say for sure if we would have accepted the deal or not, but…the Red Mountains aren’t like Erebor. They’re not rich in gold and gems like the Longbeards always seem capable of finding. It’s spices and oil that we trade in. I think it would have given us a foothold for greater things.”
“You would have been at the mercy of a mad king.” Bilbo pointed out.
Marlok cocked his head to the side. “Well…I suppose there’s that too. Mad or not, maybe we were in need of a little mercy.”
Before Bilbo could delve further into the topic, they arrived in the markets. Honestly, it was one of Bilbo’s favorite places to visit. The sun mirrors caught the light perfectly to really show off the beauty of Erebor’s green walls as the people bustled about the stalls and the smells of street food carried on the breeze. It reminded Bilbo of home somewhat, and was the perfect place to visit whenever he started feeling lonely. He had already made friends with several of the owners, comparing recipes at the food stalls or giving many well-deserved compliments where they sold this or that trinket. He was going to suggest perhaps getting a meatpie to share before dinner when the floor started to rumble. Marlok’s brows pulled together as he held out his hand protectively in front of Bilbo.
“That doesn’t feel deep like a cave-in or an earthquake. It almost feels like a…”
“WATCH OUT!”
“STAMPEDE!”
Bilbo had just enough time to spin around before he was accosted by several dwarves pushing and shoving to get out of the way. Bilbo hissed when someone hit his shoulder, only to fall to the ground completely a moment later by another. Bilbo rolled just in time to avoid a large dwarven boot smashing his head and kept rolling until he was out of the immediate danger to be able to see what the commotion was. Bilbo propped himself up on his elbows, only to gape at the sight before him.
The rams had been set loose, and not the nice war rams Dain had brought, but the second litter that had yet to be trained and broken in. Not quite as large as their sires, they were still plenty big to Bilbo and they were definitely spooked. Bleats were released, their eyes rolling back in their heads, as they smashed through carts, avoiding every attempt to calm them down.
The ravens were soaring above screeching at the top of their lungs and managing to get in the way of any of the guards with ropes trying to stop the rams. Bilbo’s eyes were wide taking in the whole scene. His eyes quickly scanned the ground to make sure there wasn’t anyone else trapped or in danger of getting trampled, and that’s when his gaze fell to a fluttering and chirping mass of rope. Poor Thrush had somehow gotten himself tangled up, and was screaming for help as dwarves rushed by just narrowly missing him.
Bilbo raced forward as he fell to his knees, making soothing sounds as he tried to untangle the poor chick. Thrush was not having any of it as he bounced in place and screeched at Bilbo.
“What is it, Little One?” Bilbo cooed, petting his head.
That’s when he heard the shout of his name. Bilbo turned around to see one of those great rams with its head lowered, charging straight at them. Time seemed to slow down. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t even breathe. He could only clutch Thrush tighter to his chest, and brace himself for the inevitable collision.
***
Thorin watched Bilbo go, a sigh trapped in his chest and causing him to ache more by the second. When he and Marlok disappeared completely, he spun around to see Dwalin and Bofur were both staring at him. The former with exasperation, and the latter with a too wide grin.
“I take it things aren’t going well then?” Bofur asked.
Before Thorin could answer, Dwalin had already released a snort and leaned in as if he were delivering valued information.
“The hobbit didn’t wear his gift again.”
Thorin shot his friend a glare as Bofur let out a hiss in sympathy.
“Isn’t that like the twentieth one?”
“Thirty-ninth.” Dwalin corrected.
“Thirty-nine?!”
“ENOUGH!” Thorin snapped at the pair of them. “If you two would quit gossiping like a couple of ravens in the rookery, you would see that there’s nothing the matter. I am not dwelling on anything, least not the hobbit, and as king, there are many other duties on my mind that I’d like to get back to!”
“Like what?” Dwalin drawled, an eyebrow raised in defiance.
Thorin gestured to the tunnel behind him. The reason he was down here in the first place to have to watch Bilbo walk off with Marlok. Someone who Thorin would have once called a close friend, and now…well, he didn’t quite have an answer for what he felt for Marlok now. Certainly nothing friendly.
“I think we’re done here.” Bofur waved away. “We have a plan in place, and I might take Marlok up on his putty idea. Unless that’s going to be a problem?”
Thorin bristled. “Why would it be a problem?”
Dwalin leaned over to mock-whisper in Bofur’s ear. “It’s going to be a problem.”
Thorin’s blood was boiling now as he prepared a scathing defense. He would never be the kind of king to let personal feelings stand in the way of genuine progress. Even if it did come from Marlok. The dwarf getting a little too chummy with his hobbit. Who he couldn’t help but imagine traveling the halls of his mountain, his hand inching further up Bilbo’s shoulder. His grin, wide and charming, as he leaned in closer to hear Bilbo’s soft words…
Thorin was shaking from his thoughts when a runner came racing towards him, panic written across his face. Thorin put his thoughts aside as even Dwalin came to stand at his side with a grimace.
“My King! Lord Dwalin! There’s been a situation.” He panted.
“What’s wrong?” Thorin demanded.
“The ravens are in an uproar and they’re soaring through the mountain, destroying everything!”
“The ravens?” Thorin furrowed his brows. “What could possibly have them so upset?”
“They’re screaming about a ‘wyrm’, Sir! In the rookery!”
Thorin was sprinting back through the mountain before he could even think of doing anything else. His leg screaming at him the whole way, and his sword already drawn.
No, it was impossible. Not again. He couldn’t be about to lose his home twice in one lifetime! He would go down fighting this time. Dwalin and Bofur had caught back up to him before he even got halfway, both of them with grim expressions as well.
“Thorin. We need to call the guard.” Dwalin pointed out.
“Then go!” He snarled. “I will not let a dragon crawl through my gates once more.”
“It can’t be a dragon.” Bofur remarked, catching both Thorin and Dwalin’s eye. “Don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?” Dwalin asked.
“Granted, I wasn’t up here when you lot faced ol’ Smaug, but I remember the aftershocks that reached us all the way down to Dale. Where’s the thunder if it’s truly a fire storm?”
Thorin and Dwalin shared a look, letting that sink in. Bofur is right. Something else was at foot here. That’s when they heard the screams coming from the markets. The three of them raced to the entrance, only to pause at the disaster unfolding. The ravens were circling up above, crying out about a ‘wyrm’. Rams were tearing through the markets, barreling through carts and stands with no signs of slowing. It looked like most of the dwarves had been evacuated though, with the exception of the guards and their ropes to slow and calm the rams.
Thorin did another sweep, something niggling in the back of his mind when his eyes fell upon a figure crouched on the ground. At first he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. An injured vendor? A child? And that’s when his heart seized and his legs started moving. Bilbo had been giving Marlok a tour. That was Bilbo there.
Another stand was torn to splinters, and suddenly Thorin was racing across the stretch as fast as he could. He could be hurt! What was he still doing there? Where was Marlok? Bilbo seemed to be preoccupied with something on the ground, and that’s when Thorin caught sight of the ram charging straight for him.
“NOO!!” He shouted.
Thorin felt the battle's calm race through him as he increased his pace. One breath. He could make it. Two breaths. He still had time. Three breaths. His good foot caught onto some debris, forcing him to put all his weight on his bad leg, as it buckled out from beneath him. Four breaths. He fell into the mud and shit, his arm outstretched. Too far away to help. Too far to save his hobbit’s life.
“BILBO!” He cried.
Just when he thought he was about to see Bilbo trampled before him, someone slid in between with a rope in hand that he lassoed around the ram before pulling it to the ground. It bleated and bucked, but with a strong hand and a solid stance, the dwarf managed to hold the ram in place as he soothingly stroked its head.
Thorin did not want to see anymore. He did not want to see the blinding grin on the dwarf’s face as he turned around, and he certainly didn’t want to see Bilbo’s face shining with awe and amazement as he thanked Marlok for what Thorin could not. For a second time, Marlok had saved Bilbo’s life, and Thorin feared should it come to a third, he would break completely.
