Archive of Our Own ^beta

'Oh no. No no no no no.' Thorin hastened along the small country road, panting, looking over his shoulder from time to time. Was he being followed? He didn't think so. His chest was aching from exertion. He cursed himself for being nervous. No way any of it was true.

There, the bridge. He slowed down, crossed it carefully so as not to wake up the Wizard living underneath. With a relieved sigh he picked up the pace again. He was nearly home, almost safe. There it was. The door to the cave was open. He ran through, shut it with a bang and closed all the bolts.

'Dís!' he cried. 'Dís!'

His sister skidded into the hallway, eyes wide.

'What? What happened, Thorin?'

'They say he's out. I think he saw me last week, and now, I thougt he was following me. Oh, Mahal.'

Dís clapped her hand in front of her mouth.

'Goodness! How do you know he's out?'

Thorin went into the living room and fell down on the couch.

'Everybody was talking about it. There have been strange noises coming from the hill for a week, and this morning Lobelia Sackville heard the door open and close, she swears.'

Dís sat down next to him. They were silent for a moment.

'Do you think the prophecy is true?' Dís asked in a small voice. 'Will he come for us? For.... for you?'

Thorin leaned forward, burying his face into his hands.

'I don't know.' His voice sounded muffled. 'I....'

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Both Dwarves froze, looking at each other. For breathless minutes they waited, but nothing else happened.

'He will come in the night, to steal what is his,' quoted Dís.

'It can't be true,' said Thorin. 'Besides, if this prophecy is that old, how can it be about someone like me, we've only moved here a year ago.'

They hardly slept a wink that night.

The next morning, Thorin needed to go to outside, to feed the animals and go to the mine. After removing the furniture they had shoved in front of the door, Dís carefully opened the door a crack, while Thorin stood to the side, armed with a large piece of oakwood.

'There's a box,' Dís whispered. 'But there's nobody around.'

'They say he's invisible,' argued Thorin.

'Well, then we will never know if he's here, will we?' said Dís, irritated. 'We can't stay indoors forever, Thorin.'

Thorin sighed. Slowly he emerged from the cave, brandishing the wooden stick as if it were a sword. There was nobody to be seen or heard. The sun was shining brightly. A small, roughly made wooden box sat in front of the door. Thorin approached it carefully, examined it.

'It looks harmless,' he said to Dís. She came out as well.

'Open it,' she said in a small voice. Thorin knew what she was thinking.

Death he will bring, to fill what is his.

With one hand, Thorin opened the box, holding his stick in front of him as if to ward off any curses that might leap out. Instead, he smelled food.

'It's a pie,' he said, dumbfounded. 'A chicken and mushroom pie.'

Frerin, who came by late in the afternoon, said that the pie was perfectly safe and tasted lovely. Thorin tried it, and had to admit that his brother was right.

They were just putting away the dishes, Frerin had left some time earlier, when there was a knock on the door again. Thorin and Dís looked at each other.

'Why me?' Thorin sighed.

'The Son of the Mountain his prey; the Mighty King falls,' Dís quoted.

'I am not a king,' Thorin protested. 'And living in a cave does not mean that I am the son of the mountain.'

'You are and you know it.'

'It's all legends and fairy tales,' Thorin grumbled. 'Nobody believes that the Kingdom of Erebor is real. And our ancesters did not come from royalty.'

'That pie was real,' Dís said. 'And the Bag End Bogeyman is real.'

'No, he's not,' lied Throrin stubbornly. 'Hamfast Gamgee says the person who lives there is perfectly nice, even if he's a recluse. The bogeyman is just a story to scare children.'

'Then why were you running home yesterday? Hmm?' When Thorin didn't answer, Dís shoved at him. 'Go open the door.'

'Are you mad?'

'I thought he was just a story?'

Thorin glowered at her, but his pride won out, and he approached the door cautiously. Armed with his trusted oakwood and a lantern, he opened the door, peering out. There seemed to be nobody there, but on the stoop sat another wooden box, a bit bigger than the first one. Quickly he pulled it inside and closed the door.

'What's in it?' asked Dís.

'Just a minute,' said Thorin. He lifted the top of the box and took out the contents. It was a beautifully crafted coat, made of a heavy dark blue velvet and an abundance of brown fur. He almost dropped it when Dís whispered another line from the prophecy.

'Shrouds he will bring, to mark what is his.'

'It's not a shroud, for heaven's sake, it's a coat.' But Thorin's voice wavered. Prophecies were never straightforward. What if this coat was what he would be wrapped in after he was killed? He shivered and dropped the coat.

The next day, Thorin did not go to the mine, and Dís had to feed the animals. He lay in his bed and brooded, until finally Dís dragged him out to eat dinner, together with Frerin, who had come by to laugh at him.

'You can't let this...' Frerin was interrupted by a knock on the door. With a look at his siblings, he stood up. 'Right,' he said. 'You're going to face this, brother.' He tugged Thorin until he stood and pushed him to the door.

'Face your fate, Thorin,' he said, opening the door wide. There was no one there, but on the ground lay a crown made of flowers. Dazed, Thorin picked it up.

'Ow!' Wearily eyeing the red roses in the crown, he sucked his thumb. 'Thorns,' he mumbled. Frerin started to laugh while he closed the door behind his brother.

'Blood will be spilled, to seal what is his,' he quoted, chuckling. 'I think the Bag End Bogeyman is courting you!'

Thorin looked at the flowers in the crown: red roses, carnations, verbena, veronica, lily, sage.

'It is a beautiful crown,' Dís whispered. 'Very determined, and romantic too. Love and beauty, fascination and love, enchantment, fidelity, majesty, esteem.'

'But...but....' Thorin began, then almost dropped the crown as there was another knock on the door, a very polite knock. The three Dwarves looked at each other.

'You'll have to give him your answer,' said Frerin, looking half amused half afraid. 'Will you consent to courtship?'

Thorin scowled at him.

'If you think I will consent to being courted by some horrible, invisible monster....'

But Frerin had already turned and opened the door. It was not an invisible monster that stood on the stoop.

Thorin stared, mouth open. Standing in the doorway was a Gentlehobbit with the sweetest face Thorin had ever seen. His curls were light brown and his eyes a deep blue, like the evening sky. The Hobbit twitched his nose in an adorable way before saying:

'Umm, well, ah, yes.'

Thorin was still staring. He noticed that he had moved closer to the door. Or rather, closer to the Hobbit. Behind him he heard strangled noises that probably meant Frerin was trying not to laugh.

'Ah,' the Hobbit said. 'I was wondering whether you would be amenable to my courtship.'

Thorin opened his mouth to say yes, when the Hobbit coughed and turned an interesting shade of pink.

'That is to say, I am Bilbo Baggins of Bag End.' He fiddled with something in his hand and suddenly disappeared.

Thorin inhaled sharply. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End reappeared, looking sheepish.

'Umm, sorry about that.' He held up a ring. 'It's the ring, you see. It's an invisibility ring.'

Thorin opened his mouth again, to say yes, but Dís stepped forward.

'Welcome, Bilbo Baggins, I am Dís, at your service.' She bowed. The Hobbit bowed in turn. He looked at Thorin, a question in his eyes.

Thorin once again opened his mouth to say yes, when Frerin stepped in, bowing as well.

'Frerin, at your service,' he said. 'Please, enter.'

Bilbo Baggins came in, looking flustered.

'Thank you,' he said. 'I hope it's not inconvenient.'

'Oh no, of course not.' Dís took the Hobbit by the arm and lead him into the living room. 'Would you like some tea?'

'We have chocolate biscuits,' Frerin said, following them.

Thorin remained alone in the hallway, clutching the flower crown. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

'Brother, are you coming?' shouted Ferin. Thorin shook to clear his head. Still dazed, he walked into the living room and promply tripped over the carpet. While Ferin was laughing so hard he seemed to choke on it, a soft hand touched Thorin's hair.

'Are you alright?' Bilbo Baggins asked, his blue eyes worried.

'The Mighty King has fallen!' cried Frerin, before collapsing into another bout of laughter.

Thorin wanted to say yes, but his voice seemed to be lost in the Hobbit's gaze. He let himself be helped up, and Bilbo guided him to the couch, where he sat down next to Thorin, never looking away from him.

'I saw you, you know,' he said softly, his fingers ghosting over Thorin's. 'And I knew it was time.' He lifted his hand to Thorin's face, cupped his jaw. Quietly he chanted:

'The time will come when he sees what is his
Sets out on a quest to procure what is his
He will come in the night, to steal what is his
Death he will bring, to fill what is his
Shrouds he will bring, to mark what is his
Blood will be spilled, to seal what is his
So it begins, when he takes what is his.

The Son of the Mountain his prey; the Mighty King falls
The City ablaze; the Dragon awake
Consumed by the Fire, devoured as one
And all will again be right in the world.'

'What? No, that's not how it goes,' Frerin said. 'It's: And all will be gone at the end of the world.'

Bilbo smiled, looking at Frerin.

'No, all will again be right in the world.'

Thorin thought Bilbo's version sounded about right. He cleared his throat, wanting the remarkable hobbit to look at him again. He was granted his wish. He opened his mouth to say yes, when, once again, there was a knock on the door.

When Dís returned to the living room, she was followed by a tall figure, clad in grey.

'I'll be damned,' said Frerin. 'It's the Wizard Under The Bridge.'

'Gandalf,' Bilbo said.

'Bilbo,' the wizard answered. 'I see you have finally taken action.'

Bilbo huffed. He had removed his hand from Thorin's face, which Thorin disliked, but his hand was now resting on Thorin's thigh, which Thorin liked. Very much. So much in fact, that he put his own hand over Bilbo's.

The Grey Wizard bent over to pick something up.

'It seems a pity to have this lying about on the floor,' he said, holding up the courting crown. Thorin jumped up, holding out his hand. That crown was his. When he saw three pairs of amused eyes trained on him, he felt his face heat up. Still, he held out his hand.

'I believe that is mine,' he said, with all the dignity he could muster. Gandalf looked at the flowers.

'Why, Thorin, I believe it is.' He handed him the crown, and Thorin yanked it against his chest. He turned to look at the Hobbit, who was looking up at him with hopeful eyes. Thorin opened his mouth to say yes, when Ferin said:

'You've got the prophecy wrong.'

'No, I don't,' said Bilbo. He opened his burgundy velvet coat and fished a piece of paper from an inner pocket. Folding it open, he handed it to Thorin's brother.

'And all will again be right in the world,' said Gandalf. 'Bilbo's got it right, of course.'

Frerin was staring at the paper, which seemed rather old and worn.

'This doesn't prove anything,' said Dís, who was peering over his shoulder. 'Anyone could have written this.'

'As a matter of fact, I wrote it.' They all looked at the Wizard. He shrugged. 'As I am the one who made the prophecy, it only makes sense that I was the one to write it down. I have to say the 'death he will bring to fill what is his' surprised me. But I guess the chicken would have been dead before being used in a pie.'

In the silence that followed, Thorin's voice finally found the word he had been wanting to say.

'Yes.'

Everyone turned to him, but Thorin's eyes were on Bilbo.

'Yes,' he said again, willing the hobbit to understand. Suddenly Bilbo smiled, a wide, wide smile which lit up his face and indeed the whole room as far as Thorin was concerned.

Bilbo stood up, took Thorin's hand and brought it to his face, presumably to kiss it. However, Thorin thought that would be woefully inadequate, so he pulled his handsome suitor into his arms and kissed him on the lips. Bilbo reacted with a low hum that seemed to ignite a flame in Thorin's belly, and indeed lower than that, where something stirred decidedly awake.

Oh yes, he thought. All will indeed be right in the world.

'My dear,' Bilbo whispered against his mouth. 'It will be such an adventure.'