Chapter Text
The morn came sooner than Bilbo would have liked, though considering how puzzling the previous day had been and Elrond’s words about the counsel he knew sleep would escape him that night.
The elves woke rather early, many already up and about by the time Bilbo forced himself out of bed. If he was to get no sleep then he might as well start his day early as well. He took his time walking out to the well to fetch some fresh water, inhaling the crisp, cool morning air that smelled faintly of dew and leaves and earth. It reminded him of the times his mother took him out to the top of Bag End, before the sun rose and the roosters sang their morning songs, and the grass was still wet from the previous nights rainstorm.
The splash of cold water on his face was more than enough to chase away the last bits of restlessness that hung on his eyelids. He dressed easily, the elves having lent him some trousers and a beautifully crafted tunic and belt while his clothes were to be washed and returned that afternoon. The cloth was comfortable and fit well enough, despite how odd he felt he looked wearing something so ethereal and elegant. At least they hadn’t offered to make him slippers, he was sure to look like a fool.
Breakfast wouldn’t be ready for another hour, at least, so Bilbo continued along the walkway around the courtyard and up the stairs on the far side to a long hallway that took him past the library and another garden. From there he turned left and headed down a short flight of steps and across a small arched bridge that passed over a clear bubbling creek. On the other side of the bridge another set of stairs led down to a grassy embankment at the water. An old tree grew just at the edge of this grassy opening, it’s trunk thick and twisted over even though its branches reached for the sky.
Bilbo settled himself at the base of the tree and stuffed his pipe, lighting it easily and taking a deep inhale. He blew out a small smokey ring and watched it float slowly upward into the breeze that rustled the leaves of the old tree. The nerves he woke up seeming to ease ever so slightly. There really wasn’t a reason for him to feel so anxious about a meeting. Given the information Elrond left him with there was the possibility all they wanted from Bilbo was some advice. Though that seemed rather silly too considering the only counsel Bilbo ever sat in on regarded happenings in the Shire, not some far away kingdom of another race.
He sighed heavily. The least he could do was attend, maybe give some advice, but he didn’t expect to be much help. The world of the big folk was wild and wondrous. It already plucked him from the Shire and swept him through Bree and to Rivendell, and if he didn’t watch his step it would be a wonder where it would take him next.
“You’ve really gotten yourself into something now…” Bilbo huffed, letting another ring of smoke float up into the air.
A songbird landed somewhere in the branches, it’s chipper voice ringing gladly through the leaves and up the cliffs of the valley, a song of what lay beyond the hills. The first rays of sunlight spilled golden upon Rivendell, turning dawn to day. Bilbo puffed the last of his pipe before standing and stretching and deciding it was time to find some food.
--
“Did it never cross your mind to speak to the lad about this?”
The question came out more accusatory than Balin intended but right now he found his tone less of a concern compared to the fact that Gandalf meant to drag Bilbo Baggins into their quest, regardless of the halfling’s personal feelings on the matter.
“He’s managed this far,” the wizard said, taking puff from his pipe.
“Managed to suffer an almost fatal injury. And for what?” Balin said pointedly, stopping in his pacing and giving Gandalf a disapproving look, “You know as well as I the danger of this quest and the consequences should it fail. And you want to drag an innocent soul into this? I can’t allow it.”
“Do you feel placing judgment on someone before they’ve been given a chance to prove otherwise is a fair assessment?” Gandalf countered.
Balin swept his gaze over to one of the windows. The sun was just reaching midday and there were still some hours before the counsel. For all they knew the hobbit could very well decline the offer the moment it was presented and it would be done.
“I need you to trust me when I say Mr. Baggins may have more to offer to this quest than you realize,” Gandalf urged.
“You don’t give me much to work with, Tharkûn. Only this feeling you have,” Balin shook his head, “How can we know? It’s clear he’s never ventured farther his front gate.”
“We won’t know,” the wizard replied, “Not until Mr. Baggins shows us what he is capable of. But perhaps, in the meantime, we need to put a bit of faith in the things we do not know. This quest… there is no simple answer, nor definite solution. You know this.”
Balin nodded. He knew that well enough. When word reached the Blue Mountains that Dain Ironfoot wanted to retake the Lonely Mountain it sent an unsettling split throughout the remaining dwarven settlements. Many felt it was a fool’s errand, while others saw it as an opportunity to reclaim a homeland, a past and name long since lost. He didn’t know what to think at the time. Many years had passed since the tragedy and many of the dwarves of Erebor had resettled in Eren Luid, in the Blue Mountains and created a good life for themselves under the fair leadership of Dís, daughter of Thrain.
Part of him felt a sense of duty to a cause such as this, but another part of him feared the fallout would bring with it more consequences.
Regardless, Dain had at least deserved an audience on the matter. And if Balin was to act as the consultant between the Blue Mountains and the Iron Hills, so be it. He could put his personal feelings aside if it meant an alternative solution could be agreed upon. Perhaps it would not come to the conclusion he feared.
“Very well, though I stand by my statement: Mr. Baggins will get to make his own decision about whether he wants to join,” Balin said finally, “I refuse to let you coerce him into it.”
The wizard didn’t answer, but that was fine. Balin needed to get back to the company. There were preparations that needed to be made and he didn’t trust the other dwarves to not make a mess of it. They were still a little bitter over having to stay here and the last thing Balin wanted to deal with was pissed off elves.
--
Breakfast had been quiet, and lunch just as uneventful but he needed to get his head on straight and prepare for the days events. While there was still some time to pass until the meeting that afternoon Bilbo occupied himself by browsing through the tomes in the library. Anything he could find on the Lonely Mountain would have been ideal; there were a few books with a list of lineages but that was as much as he was going to find. An elven library was probably not best place to look for information on dwarven history.
The previous day’s spat wormed its way back into his thoughts, giving Bilbo pause. In retrospect it seemed a silly thing to get so heated over, frustration and exhaustion the more likely the culprit of both of their outbursts but that did not mean he wanted to let the row burn a bridge he had barely begun to create. He’d have to find the young dwarf sometime today, maybe after the meeting, or perhaps at supper. A good talk, just the two of them, would do more good than none at all.
Bilbo closed the book he was paging through and shelved it, giving the librarian a small ‘thank you’ before heading out. He still needed to pick up his laundry and change before heading to the infirmary to receive a last check up before the days end. As comfortable as the elven attire was he fancied being back in his normal clothes.
“Bilbo! There you are.”
Bilbo tensed slightly and turned toward the voice, surprised to see a dwarf coming up the walkway. It was Bofur, if he could remember correctly, though the dwarf’s hat should have been a dead giveaway, the ridiculous turned up ear flaps were not something easily forgotten. Bofur smiled brightly at him as they drew closer, the same jolly twinkle in his eyes that Bilbo had found himself drawn into the first they met.
He let his shoulders relax, regarding the dwarf with a small nod, and a smile of his own, once they met halfway.
“Good day,” he said politely.
“Same to you,” the dwarf returned, stopping just short of where Bilbo stood and giving the hobbit a once over, “You off to somewhere?”
Bilbo nodded, shifting his weight slightly between his feet, “I am, though that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. If that’s what you found me for.”
“May I join you, then?” Bofur asked, motioning in the general direction Bilbo had been heading.
“Of course.”
They headed down the pathway at an easy pace, Bofur engaging him in conversations about the weather or the food, or how different elven architecture was compared to dwarven architecture. Bilbo found himself relaxing into the exchange, chuckling every once in a while when Bofur’s humor slipped through, and listening intently when Bofur talked life in the Blue Mountains. The comfort he felt before, when they were on the road reveling song and tales, returned.
They rounded the corner just before the wash area, Bilbo assuring the dwarf he didn’t need to wait around only to have Bofur wave it off and say ‘it’s of no trouble to me, Mr. Baggins’. Bilbo relented and briskly retrieved his clothes from a lovely dark-haired elf maid, who smiled radiantly at him as he thanked her before turning back to her work. He made his way back up to Bofur and they continued their talk as they walked back to Bilbo’s lodgings.
“I feel like it’s been ages since any of us talked to you. Even though we saw you yesterday, for a bit…”” Bofur mentioned, crunching a dried leaf beneath his boot absentmindedly when they reached Bilbo’s quarters.
“I suppose I did kinda run off suddenly,” Bilbo said quietly, as he set the clothes on the bed, “I… think I may have made a bad impression on Kili…”
He wasn’t really sure why he phrased it that way but Bofur’s soft hum and lack of comment was reassuring enough that he didn’t dwell on it. He hadn’t considered whether or not anyone else in the company heard the argument, and just the thought of it made his cheeks flush a bit.
“I wouldn’t mind him too much,” Bofur said, leaning up against the doorframe, “He’s a fiery one, and a bit of a hardhead who can sometimes say things without thinking.”
Bilbo ran finger along the seam of his red traveling jacket. It almost looked brand new with how thoroughly the elves had cleaned it.
“I still feel like I need to apologize to him,” he said with a dry laugh.
“Well, he’ll be at supper. You could talk to him then. Of course, only if you fancy joining us.”
Bilbo turned to look at Bofur, the dwarf giving him a kind smile.
“I’ll consider it,” he replied, “Maybe I’ll catch him after the meeting this afternoon.”
“Oh, you’re attending that too?” Bofur inquired.
“Yes, apparently Gandalf wants me to be there. Why? I’m not really sure… Though Lord Elrond said something about the Lonely Mountain.”
The odd look that flashed briefly over Bofur’s face wasn’t lost on him, but Bilbo decided he did not want to question it. There was enough on his mind today already.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Bofur broke the silence, straightening himself from the doorframe, and bowing slightly. Bilbo gave him a curt nod, watching the dwarf leave only to see him come back suddenly.
“I almost forgot,” the dwarf said, reaching hastily into a small pouch on his belt, “Ah, there it is.”
Bilbo gave him a curious look, stepping closer when Bofur held something out to him. He almost dropped the dress shirt he was holding when upon closer inspection he found the small item to be his locket.
“You found—“ He could hardly form words, taking the locket carefully and opening it. There was something different about the portraits.
“A few of the clasps broke so I had Bifur fix them,” Bofur explained, “And, well, the portraits... they got a little ruined. The paper, that is, so I etched their likeness into a bit of metal and inlaid that instead. So now they won’t get faded or ruined...”
Bilbo didn’t know what to say, but the etchings looked practically indistinguishable from the portraits.
“I- This…” he looked up at the dwarf, trying to push away the wetness that threatened to build in his eyes, “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome,” Bofur returned, giving Bilbo a gentle pat on the shoulder, and wink, before turning and heading out the door.
Bilbo gazed back down at the locket, closing it carefully and placing a small kiss on the smooth oval surface, before placing it about his neck and returning to task of changing. He still needed to visit the infirmary before the counsel.
--
By the time the escort arrived at his room to take him to the counsel Bilbo had worked himself into a nervous mess again, though he did his best to put on a casual smile and push any signs of anxiety down. The last thing he needed to do was make a fool of himself in front of Lord Elrond and Gandalf.
The walk wasn’t far, the chamber secluded from the open air of Rivendell save for a few windows higher up on the elegant vaulted ceiling that let the afternoon light in. A long table sat in the center of the room, six chairs arranged on either side with two sitting at the head and foot. It was here Bilbo found Gandalf, Balin, Dwalin and Fili. Gandalf was seated in the chair to the right of the head of the table, and Balin, Dwalin and Fili in the three chairs across from him.
The escort led Bilbo to the seat next to Gandalf, pulling the chair back and placing a small stool before it so the hobbit could get up with ease. Once he was settled the elf moved the chair a bit closer to the table before bowing dutifully and exiting the room.
Bilbo glanced around the table again, giving the dwarves a small nod of acknowledgement of which only Balin really reciprocated. Dwalin looked like he would rather be elsewhere and Fili was fiddling absentmindedly with the fur on his jacket. Gandalf looked oddly content, which Bilbo found a little unnerving for some reason. He’d sat in on counsel meetings in the Shire with more cheer than this, and that was saying something.
Lord Elrond entered not to long after, disrupting the heavy silence for a brief moment but perhaps raising the tension on the dwarven side of the table a little. Bilbo shifted in his seat a bit, keeping his eyes fixed on a design on the table as Elrond spoke a few words to his steward before crossing the room smoothly to take his spot at the head of the table.
“I apologize for the delay,” he started, folding his gown neatly about his lap and sweeping his gaze across the table briefly, “Shall we get begin?”
Gandalf straightened himself a bit more and nodded toward Balin. The elder dwarf looked slightly reluctant but stood and pulled out a few folded pieces of parchment from a bag at his side. He unfolded them both on the table, one looked to be a missive of sorts written in a language Bilbo hadn’t seen before. The other was a map, a detailed peak drawn in the upper left-hand corner with a twisting figure above it in dark blue ink. Bilbo sat up a bit in his seat to get a better look, eyes falling onto the bold writing around the image.
“The Lonely Mountain…” he murmured to himself, “Here of old was Thrain, King Under the Mountain.”
“I am unsure how much you already know,” Balin said, clearing his throat and pushing the missive toward Elrond slightly, “But as I’m sure Gandalf may have informed you by now, a couple months ago Dain Ironfoot sent out a message to the rest of the dwarven settlements, regarding Erebor.”
Elrond took the parchment and read it over.
“My company have been sent at the request of Her Majesty, Dís, Lady of the Blue Mountains, to hold a counsel with Lord Dain and come to an agreement with how to proceed,” Balin concluded.
Elrond placed the missive back on the table.
“So a decision on whether or not to march on the mountain has not been made yet?” he inquired, sending a pointed look in Gandalf’s direction.
“No,” Balin answered quickly, “Lady Dís did not feel it right to send warriors to the cause without knowing the extent of Lord Dain’s plan.”
“I see,” Elrond replied, turning his gaze to the map, “And this?”
Bilbo saw something flicker in Balin’s eyes. Reservation, perhaps, or maybe it was reluctance, considering the question also caused Dwalin and Fili to shift in their seats as well.
“It was requested by Dís, I am told,” Gandalf cut in, “For academic purposes.”
Bilbo felt himself involuntarily wince. Either Gandalf was a terrible liar or he was playing Elrond for a fool. It was a dubious claim at best, even Bilbo could see that and although he did not know what significance it held, the general air about the three dwarves hinted that some information was being left out.
“There is a passage,” Gandalf continued, pointing to the margin on the left side of the paper, “It speaks of a message hidden somewhere within this map. I am unable to discern what kind of message it is referring to, so I thought it might be best to run it past you.”
“And this has no bearing on this counsel you wish to hold with Lord Dain?” Elrond turned his gaze to the dwarves. Balin shook his head.
Elrond pulled the map toward him and studied the page, carefully turning it over and holding it up to the golden light of the afternoon.
“I will have a scholar look at it this evening,” he said, placing it back down on the table next to the missive.
“I’d prefer it say in my hands until then,” Balin said, “And that we are present during its examination.”
“As you wish.”
Bilbo watched as Elrond pushed the papers toward Balin, who folded them neatly and placed them back into his bag. Fili and Dwalin seemed to relax a bit, and the air lightened.
“If I may ask,” he spoke up tentatively, a little unnerved when all eyes turned to him. It was almost like they forgot he was there, “I... couldn’t help but notice a detail on the map. Um, the creature, just above the peak, what does it represent?”
“’Tis a dragon,” Dwalin said bluntly.
“O-oh,” Bilbo replied, a little unsure what to say next. He could see that it was a dragon, but often images on maps served a purpose or conveyed some type of information. They weren’t put there without reason.
“I think it might be appropriate to let Mr. Baggins in on a little bit more than that, don’t you think?” Gandalf said, “I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
Dwalin huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair but offering no explanation. Bilbo shrunk back a bit. It was fine, he supposed. It was kind of a stupid question.
“It is the dragon that felled the kingdom of Erebor sixty years ago,” Balin said. Bilbo brought his gaze back up to the table.
“No one really knows how it happened,” Balin continued grimly, “There were no signs, no warning. Half the kingdom was up in flames before anyone could do anything.”
Bilbo swallowed thickly, turning his eyes down to his hands and feeling even more stupid for making Balin bring up something that was clearly painful. It would explain why the older dwarf didn’t go into detail when they’d been talking on the way to Bree all those days ago. The pieces were all starting to fit together. The reservation of the dwarves during this meeting was all starting to make sense. This was no mere venture. This quest was the reopening of a wound, one that had been left to time but hadn’t quite healed properly.
“I want to help,” he declared.
All eyes were on him once again. Bilbo took a steady breath, standing up on his seat so he could be more fully at his height. In any other situation he might’ve found this to be wholly inappropriate but as it was he felt no such embarrassment.
“I’m not sure what I could offer,” he kept going, looking between the three dwarves, “But… if you will have me, I would be most honored to lend you whatever aid I can.”
The room was silent, almost as if his words had halted time itself. Bilbo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears. He kept posture tall and his shoulders square, hands steady at his sides. It was Fili who broke the silence.
“You would offer yourself to our cause,” he spoke softly, “Even when you have no reason to?”
“Do I need a reason?” Bilbo returned.
The room fell quiet again, the dwarves turning to whisper amongst themselves. Bilbo let his shoulders relax a bit and flexed his fingers a bit. His palms were still a little sweaty but he found he didn’t much care. He heard Gandalf chuckle softly next to him.
“You’re full of surprises, Mr. Baggins,” Balin said, once the three had finished conversing. The older dwarf opened his bag again and rummaged around in the contents, pulling forth a small bundle of paper and passing it across the table. Bilbo took it gingerly.
“It’s a contract, if you will,” Balin explained, “Just some basic information regarding your contribution, expenses and the like, your consent to take upon this quest.”
Bilbo unfolded the parchment and quickly scanned over the information. There were a lot of details despite the document’s small size.
“Would you like me to sign it now?” he asked.
“Take the time you need with it, laddie,” Balin reassured, “We will be here for a bit longer. Just come find me when you’ve made your decision.”
Bilbo nodded, taking a seat again as he folded the contract back up and placed it safely in his coat.
“If that is all that needs to be discussed...?” Elrond prompted.
The dwarves and Gandalf both seemed to agree on this. Elrond adjourned the meeting and each went their separate way. Bilbo walked briskly back to his quarter, a little eager to read over the contract while the meeting was still fresh in his head. He felt lighter and in a surprisingly good mood. The anxiety he felt that morning had all but vanished, and he felt like he was beginning to repair the broken rapport with the dwarves. Things were working out better than he’d imagined.
Perhaps it was time he paid a certain young dwarf a visit.