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Erebor rose in front of them, high above and into the clouds, as the hobbits traversed across the land with their dwarven guide. Many months ago, Bilbo Baggins had stepped out his front door and down the path, unable to resist the temptation of an adventure across Arda. A duo of dwarves had appeared in the Shire, calling for those hobbits who might be brave (or stupid) enough to wish to travel to the vast kingdom of the dwarves, Erebor. Bilbo had listened, then given his mother a kiss and his father a hug, despite the elder Baggins’ protests. It was merely a trip, and he’d come home to the Shire before too long.
The pickings of Hobbits that might be willing to leave the Shire was slim. By the time Bilbo had finished packing, and gone to the Green Dragon, it was only his cousins Sigismond, Aldagrim, and Rorimac that he knew well enough. There were a handful of other hobbits, but he wasn’t surprised to find that they numbered mostly Tooks and Brandybucks.
Thus they’d traveled halfway across Arda, until they’d finally, finally come to the stretch of land between Dale and Erebor.
Tales that had spun over months of travel did not fall short. Even from this distance, Erebor had a natural beauty that caught Bilbo’s breath in throat. The other hobbits carried on, talking over each other and to the dwarves, asking questions without giving the dwarves any chance to answer them.
“Are we going to meet the king?” Bilbo asked, interrupting Rory’s question about the kitchens. He ignored the swivel of heads in his direction, meeting the eyes of their dwarven guide with a raised brow. “It was my understanding that you wish to establish an alliance with the Shire. Surely we must be presented to the king. And regardless, I should like to speak with him. We did come quite a long way.”
The dwarf let out a rumbling laugh, much like the sound of tumbling rocks, or so Bilbo imagined. “Aye, aye, Master Hobbit, you shall meet him in due time. But let us show you the kingdom first!”
From there, they were swept into Erebor’s grand entrance. Even from across the land, the mountain had towered over the hobbits, and as they entered it, it truly did dwarf them all. How dwarves lived in such a vast place baffled Bilbo, but he seemed to be alone in this regard, as his cousins and the rest of the hobbits marveled at the mountain as it stretched above and around them.
In fact, it was this vastness that made it rather easy for a hobbit to get lost. Or slip away. Whichever it was, Bilbo would let his cousins think what they wanted, as he slipped away from the group following the dwarf deeper into the mountain. It wasn’t that he found the mountain uninteresting, but the dwarf focused much more on the veins of minerals that ran through and talked of the treasury, the forges, things that a hobbit like Bilbo simply didn’t have much of a mind for.
He merely followed his heart and his feet, seeking out what seemed to call to him. Bilbo didn’t pay much attention to the doors that he passed through, or the dwarves that he passed by, nor did they give him much attention at all. By the time he came to his senses, he had pushed open a door that led, to his great surprise, outside .
Though they hadn’t been inside the mountain for too long, when his feet touched home to the soft earth here, Bilbo couldn’t help the soft sigh of relief. It was not quite the soil and greenery of the Shire, but it felt enough of home that the cloistered feeling inside Erebor disappeared from his mind. It took him a long moment to realize that he was not alone in this small reprieve.
And another moment for him to take in his new sanctuary.
Bilbo’s nose wrinkled in distaste.
It wasn’t the first time Bilbo had seen a garden in dire need of care. Not all of Eru’s creatures and creations were as well skilled with the growing of the earth as hobbits were, but still -- it was entirely disheartening to see such a place in this sort of disrepair. His feet had called him here but as he took it in, he could feel the weak pulse of life that seemed to call unto him. The entire place felt dreadful.
The garden was dying .
Perhaps in a time before, there had been someone that cared for what grew here, but Bilbo doubted they were around. If they were, they wouldn’t have let this fall to such neglect. No sane-minded person would - whether they were hobbit, dwarf, or man.
His fingers flexed into a fist, trying to keep himself from smacking the great wall of the mountain behind him. How awful. He had a half a mind to turn on his hell and tell his cousins what he had seen. They’d leave soon as they heard, no doubt, and…. At that, Bilbo hesitated. Bad as it was, it wouldn’t be in the best manners to immediately assume this was how the mountain was treated. He couldn’t ignore the disgusted feeling in his chest, though.
No, Bilbo likely wouldn’t until he’d demanded a talk with the king and told him exactly what he thought about the state of his kingdom.
After taking a calming breath, he turned his head to take in the rest of the garden. There was always a chance that it wasn’t as neglected as he thought, but he couldn’t chance it. He had to be sure. As his eyes roamed over the dying plants, the nearly dead tree in the center, he caught sight of another figure in the garden. Bilbo had been so consumed with the ire in his chest at the state of the garden that he hadn’t taken notice of the dwarf that stood amidst the dying plants.
By the tree there was a stone structure of some kind, but Bilbo couldn’t ascertain quite what it was for. However, he watched as the dwarf touched his fingers to the top of the stone and he could just hear the low rumble of the dwarf’s voice as he seemed to speak to it.
“My apologies,” Bilbo called, wincing when the dwarf whipped around to stare at him in shock.
The dwarf himself was quite handsome, broad brow and nose, his mouth open slightly as he stared at Bilbo. What caught the hobbit’s attention more was the bright blue color of his eyes, which certainly could not be missed among his dark hair and matching dark robe. Though Bilbo had little clue on the structure of dwarven society, the dwarf seemed to be dressed quite regally. Perhaps a noble or a dwarf lord, he mused.
“Who are you? What are you… how did you get in here?” In addition to his appearance, the dwarf’s voice, rough as it might be, sent a tingle to Bilbo’s toes. Honestly .
“Right, yes, what was it… oh!” Bilbo gave a small bow, recalling how the dwarves had introduced themselves before. “Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo, at your service,” he stood back up as he continued speaking, “I’m afraid I’ve… well, I suppose I’ve found myself a bit lost.”
The dwarf’s expression seemed to relax, though only marginally, as he remained guarded. “You are in the Queen’s garden. I am curious how you managed such, as it is not easy to find access to.”
“You could say it called to me,” Bilbo supplied, his eyes soaking in the garden again. He could not hide the bitterness in his face, however. When he looked back towards the dwarf, his mouth was tight. The dwarf gave him a bemused look, before he looked around the garden himself.
“Perhaps I should guide you back,” the dwarf said, stepping towards Bilbo with a determined look in his pretty blue eyes. “Regardless of if this… land called to you or not, you shouldn’t be here.”
Bilbo matched his step back with an indignant noise, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll have you know that as a hobbit of the Shire, I know quite a good deal about land and all things that grow, and this garden is not in a state befitting of… well! Any garden!” The last few words were snapped as he glared at the dwarf.
The dwarf opened his mouth as if to assert himself back into the conversation, but Bilbo barrelled on before he could.
“I have heard a great many words about how grand Erebor is, yet I have not seen a single thing that proves it to be such. Oh yes, you have mighty dwarven statues outside and warriors every which way you look, but you hardly prove your mightiness if that is where you lay all your values. What can you say about a kingdom that does not care for its very base, for the ground it grows upon? I hardly think any hobbit would be pleased to see the state of this garden, and especially if they were to find out it belongs to a queen!” Bilbo huffed, losing his breath a moment as his words spun out before he could stop himself.
He slapped a hand over his mouth, mortification welling in his throat. Regardless of who this dwarf was, a rant about how off the place he called home was, that was uncalled for. Heavens, the dwarf could probably have him thrown out and he’d not be wrong to.
Bilbo’s eyes darted up to meet those painfully warm ( warm ?) eyes.
“Do hobbits care that much for the earth?”
“Yes,” Bilbo swallowed, then strengthened his resolve. “What can we say about a kingdom that does not care for even the simplest of things, such as a garden? Even if it is not as important to you as a rock or gem, it remains important and it shows that you may be easy to cast aside those that you deem… lesser.” He grimaced, looking down at the dying rose bush. “Yavanna would not bless such a place, not like this.”
“No, I think you are right about that. She would not,” the dwarf turned back to the altar that he had been speaking to. Bilbo dared to take a few steps closer, quiet against the grass. Up close, the altar was a dedication to Mahal. “Nor would Mahal be pleased to see the state in which we have left the one place his Lady Wife might be content.”
Bilbo remained quiet, unsure what to say to that. He’d been expecting more of a rebuttal from the dwarf, but his sincere agreement had been quite unexpected. Indeed, when Bilbo looked at him, the dwarf appeared sad.
“My mother would not be pleased, either,” the dwarf spoke again, removing his hand from the altar. “To see her gardens in such a state.”
When he turned his eyes back upon Bilbo, the hobbit’s eyebrows drew together as he processed what the dwarf had said. His mother…?
“Your mother?” Bilbo repeated the words back, frowning before he made the connection. The dwarf had said these were the Queen’s gardens, but Bilbo knew from their journey to Erebor that the mountain had no queen. She had only a king, which meant the last queen would have been the king’s mother, by default. “You’re…”
The dwarf bowed, sweeping his arm across his chest. “Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain. At your service.” He smirked a little at the end and Bilbo felt his stomach plummet.
“Oh dear,” he said, “oh, no, I’m terribly sorry, I hardly meant to say such to y--”
“I assure you, Master Baggins, your words are true, as blunt as they may have been. I do not believe they will go unheeded.” Thorin looked across the gardens, before his chin dipped down. “You are right to say that I have neglected this particular area of the mountain, and you are right as well to say that I should not be.”
“If I had known…”
“You would have held your tongue?” Thorin raised a curious brow at Bilbo. Bilbo pressed his lips together, mulling over the question. “I think not. You do not seem like the kind to hold his tongue when something of matter is in question. That is not a bad thing.”
“Regardless,” Bilbo said, trying to keep his voice steady, “you are not my king, your majesty, and I am a guest here, it was rude.”
“On the contrary,” Thorin said, smiling at Bilbo though he turned back to the altar again. “I find myself here very often. Perhaps the land has been trying to call out to me as well.”
“You’re not a hobbit, you cannot hear it.” Bilbo said, then bit his lip.
But Thorin laughed, deep in his chest and shook his head. Bilbo had never seen such a brilliant smile but on this dwarf’s lips.
“I will heed what you have said, Master Baggins… though I do believe that this is not a task I can complete alone,” he said, and turned to face Bilbo fully. “Tell me, though you do not like my kingdom, perhaps you would be willing to aid me in reviving this garden?”
Bilbo’s mouth fell agape. Then, his mouth crept into a similar smile to mirror Thorin’s. “You certainly need to mind the little things better, but if you truly need the help, I don’t suppose I could refuse.” To Thorin’s beaming grin, he added, “though I expect you to be fully involved in this task. You’ll not bugger off and leave me to take care of this garden all on my own.”
“As you command,” Thorin said, his voice low as he met Bilbo’s eyes. In his chest, Bilbo’s heart bloomed for the very first time.
No, he supposed, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to aid Erebor after all.