Chapter Text
The news of Smaug's demise reached the shores of Nurava quickly. It took a lot longer for everyone to believe it. No one could help it. Erebor had been a touchy subject since before you and your brother Reifrim were born and with all the chaos the dragon’s arrival had caused, you could hardly imagine anyone would be strong enough to get rid of him, let alone live to tell the tale. But such was the truth and it seemed bizarre even now when you remembered your parents mentioning in hushed whispers that a suspicious number of dwarves had been spotted venturing through Bree, heading for Shire, the land of hobbits of which the dwarven kingdom of Nurava was a neighbor. Not only had every report mentioning this been annoyingly vague and repetitive—speaking of a dwarf, armored from head to toes, asking for little else but directions to the Shire—but when one of them hinted at the fact the King Under the Mountain himself was part of this odd venture, neither you or your family could remain ignorant of this any longer.
So, a raven was sent, offering assistance and demanding an explanation in the most assertive way imaginable as your mother was prone to elicit only when she was most curious about what was happening around her. No one doubted the raven would find its way. What was more alarming was how it returned empty-handed, with no response or indication that the letter's words had been acknowledged or heeded. Your parents decided not to dwell on it and when no word reached you about the king of a lost kingdom afterward, you, too, decided it was best to forget about it entirely.
And then Smaug died. And before everyone could even begin to polemicize what that actually entailed, a raven came, and this time with words that shook with your entire world.
You didn’t get to read it, you didn’t even get to see your parents thinking of a reply, but you saw the looks, the frowns, the way 'amad and 'adad would let their eyes wander to you when they thought you were not looking. And eventually, you got a visit to your chambers.
“Nothing has been said outright so far,” your mother said, fumbling with her hands as if she was asking you to go check that Smaug was really dead yourself. “But there have been rumors that the kingdom of Erebor is trying to get back on their feet and aside from many other things, it means they want to see Durin’s Folk thriving.”
They didn’t have to say the words. You knew what it meant, why they were coming up with this to you of all people. “But we have nothing to offer,” you said because, despite the knowledge that your parents would hardly ever pull your leg about something of such significance, it made no sense that you were hearing this right. “Arranged marriages are rare for our kin. It’s not how we do things and even if they were really considering it, why would they turn to us of all people?”
Neither of them had anything to say to that. The news was just so inexplicable, all the angles they could have possibly looked at it from were in no way generous in providing them with answers they would be satisfied with. They just knew that a company had been sent and although no member of the royal family of the kingdom of Erebor was supposedly part of it, King Thorin still insisted that it was desirable of the people who actually were traveling all the way to the Shire—whoever they were—to pay Nurava a visit. Your parents were in no position to question it or deny those wishes and although all they had to lean upon were rumors and gut feelings, they didn't wish to leave you in the dark if there was even a semblance of chance that your future might change in such a drastic way.
Which got you here—before the gates of a small mountain you called home, standing on your father’s left and ignoring the unseemly looks your brother was sending you all the way from where he was standing on your mother’s right. You rolled your eyes but kept them on the approaching company, baffled beyond measure how on earth he was the older one.
The bafflement did not stop there as it was no small group that trudged along to your doorstep, but something that could in most people’s minds be considered a small army. At least twenty ponies came to a sudden halt and before you could start to wonder how it was so that Erebor apparently had the means to have so many guards sent on a journey despite being basically almost non-existent for decades a year ago, three figures got down from their ponies and slowly approached you and your family. Two dwarves and… a hobbit.
“Welcome to Nurava,” 'adad said. “I trust your journey went well.”
It baffled you further when it was the hobbit who replied. “Long and uneventful if you ask me, unlike the one that proceeded it, but then again, I have little else to compare it to.”
Your parents did not seem to be fazed by any of it at all. “Not much could compete with a quest to slay a dragon,” 'amad said with a smile. “I imagine it will stop being so dull once you get to the Shire. You’re armored to the teeth. I’d say you’re in for quite a ruckus. Maybe even some fainting.”
The look that flashed onto the hobbit’s face was downright mischievous. “Oh believe you me, I’m counting on it.”
Your parents laughed, you and Reifrim remained confused. “Your king mentioned you were a force of nature, Mister Baggins,” your father pointed out. “Never in my life would I have imagined that would be putting it mildly.”
“Aye, and Yer Majesties haven’t seen anything yet,” one of the dwarves—the one with a very silly hat—said. “Smaug never stood a chance. Neither did Thorin, on that matter.”
The other dwarf hit his arm with a tool he was holding in his right hand. It seemed like one of the horns you saw those who had trouble with their hearing using, but it was flattened as if something very heavy had fallen on it… or sat on it. It couldn’t be much of use as a hearing aid now, but for hitting others… this time even you couldn’t help but smile at the exaggerated yelp the dwarf with a funny hat made, and as much as you tried to smother the chuckle down, it went noticed by basically everyone.
“I believe introductions are in order,” 'adad said, smiling at you warmly before motioning to Reifrim. “This is our son, Reifrim.” Reifrim smiled politely, offered a bow along with “at your service,” and then your father turned to you and squeezed your shoulder. “And this is our Y/N.”
You stepped forward, did a small curtsy, said the same words as Reifrim, and tried to smile but this time it didn’t come so easy. The hobbit and the two dwarves kept their eyes on you, gazes assessing but not unkind. The waters were being tested already? you thought at the back of your mind and fought hard not to sigh. It seemed like the hobbit noticed, though, because he sheepishly looked away and offered you a bow and a sympathetic look. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Bilbo Baggins.”
“Bofur,” added the dwarf with a funny hat.
“Óin,” said the one with the horn.
“At your service,” they said together even with Bilbo who rolled his eyes at the cheer in Bofur’s smile and pride in Óin’s stance. You could only stare. Your kingdom had been neighbors with the hobbits for centuries and yet never had you seen any dwarf interact with a hobbit like that or vice versa. It spoke of friendship you deemed impossible between two races that seemed to have almost nothing in common. But one look was enough to confirm the unthinkable—there was no ruse to be found, it mattered little who they were and where they’d come from. They were a unit and most likely all the dwarves standing before you would rather die than see Bilbo not be part of it.
Needless to say, your curiosity peeked and Bilbo’s friendship with the dwarves was most likely just the tip of the iceberg of all the things that were drawing you to discover them.
All those questions you had, you would get to ask them eventually. Even if what Mister Baggins was true, that they were merely passing through. But they didn't fight when your parents offered them shelter for the night. They were good company during the dinner, too. Your father trusted too easily, your mother was the opposite, and yet, from where you were sitting, it seemed like neither of them could quite make up their mind about one hobbit and two dwarves who had traveled for months to get here.
Your brother asked all the right questions about the quest, Erebor, King Thorin, and whatever else that came to his mind. You would think that the famous fourteen would eventually get bored with answering the same questions again and again, but Bofur seemed delighted at Reifrim's prodding and Oín groaned and rolled his eyes a few times, but you suspected that might have been more because of how Bofur was exaggerating everything than anything else. Bilbo spoke here and there, but just like you, opted to remain quiet most of the time.
You excused yourself early as was your preference. Reifrim reached for his mug of mead and lifted it with words, "May all your arrows fly true." You glared, knowing arrows and dwarves in one sentence in such context was enough to throw someone off but raised your mug and said, "And may your brain still be intact when I'm through."
He laughed, but you could see it was no mishap on his part. He knew what he said and to whom he said it even if indirectly. All you could do was hope none of their guests would have taken him up on that offer.
But of course, your life must have had a sense of humor that night.
In Nurava, it was no secret that you've taken a certain liking to bow and arrows. You still preferred your sword, but you learned not to engage head-on if there was no need for it and to appreciate the perks of staying in the background and using it for your benefit. You were in no way a match to the elves or what you imagined this Bard you've heard about to be, but it was the elves who taught you, so you couldn't have been that rubbish.
Otherwise, that arrow you sent flying from the vantage point the branch on which you were sitting provided you into the tree that was right beside Bilbo's head might have ended up in his foot by accident. He shrieked. So loudly that you briefly worried his squadron of soldiers would sprint across the woods and gut you without thinking. Well. I guess I'm not going to catch anything tonight after all.
"Mister Baggins, you scared me," you said, though you did not mean it as you had seen him clearly most likely way before he spotted you.
His breath hitched and he shot you a very annoyed stare. "Oh, I'm sorry, but I scared you? Isn't there an arrow right next to my head or did I miss something?"
You smiled, grabbed your gear, and climbed down the tree. "Well, you heard my brother. I assure you it flew true even though I was hoping for a bit livelier target."
In the faint light of the lantern you were carrying, Bilbo appeared sheepish. "You're right. I'm sorry. When I came out here, I certainly didn't plan on ruining your hunt."
You shrugged and then eyed him. "Why, then?"
"I assume you're not going to believe me if I say I just needed a bit of fresh air?"
"You ventured too far for that. There's far more here to stumble upon than just squirrels and rabbits. But no dragons, I'm afraid."
"And here I was getting my armor ready."
"So I see." And you did, as a small shimmering light peeking from underneath Bilbo's collar caught your attention. You could count the times you've actually seen mithril from up close on one hand. Seeing a hobbit wearing it just made that night all the more interesting.
"You still haven't answered my question, Mister Baggins," you said so he wouldn't catch you staring. "Why are you here?"
"Here, as in this forest? I was hoping to have a word with you before we leave for Shire tomorrow."
You swallowed and looked slightly away. So it was true.
"I've been asked to invite you and whoever you choose to accompany you," Bilbo said when all you gave him was silence, "to Erebor."
"By the order of the King Under the Mountain?" you asked.
"You would be his guest, yes, but as far as I know, your kingdom does not answer to him in any way. You're free to say no, of course."
You snorted but let him believe that. Doing the opposite would just entail far more explaining than you had the energy to do that night.
"Why are you going to the Shire?" you asked next.
"Why am I going to the Shire? Isn't that obvious?"
You shrugged and smiled. "It would be if I thought you were planning to stay."
Bilbo stared, then he smiled to himself as if something about that one sentence pleased him. "What gave it away?"
"You and Bofur and Óin seem close. None of you look like you are meant to say goodbye any time soon. More like, they keep you company and you safe as you come here to take care of whatever it is you came here to do besides the obvious." You sighed and motioned toward yourself in an atrociously exaggerated way that made Bilbo laugh. "And the wagon you brought is empty, which means you mean to fill it in. It could be something we could get you—in that case, very presumptuous of you—or now that I think about it, it could also be something from the hobbits. But I wouldn't wager on it. It's too small and one wagon can hardly be enough to take anything of value. Plus, the number of troops you've chosen as your companions for this venture is quite telling."
"It's too much, I agree, but Thorin, well, he worries."
"Aye," you said and smiled lopsidedly. You liked Bilbo, but he was absolutely rubbish at answering questions. "Give him our kind regards when you see him."
"Your Highness," Bilbo stopped you before you could walk away. "There's something else I'd like to ask of you. I really don't need to take all the guards with me to the Shire. I don't plan on scaring everyone, and we move much quicker in a smaller group. The dwarves won't like it if I'm unprotected enough, though. I'll take Bofur and Óin and... I’d be honored if you could join us.”
“Why?” You stared him down almost desperately. “You’ve just met me.”
“Your father mentioned you liked to explore.”
That was true and you’d been to the Shire multiple times already, but it wasn’t like you would ever object to returning were the circumstances much less suspicious. “Is this your way of trying to convince me to come with you to Erebor?”
“I won’t lie to you, I’d be glad if you changed your mind, but you said no, and I will honor it. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
“About what?”
“You were Thorin’s first choice. I’d like to know why.”
You frowned and let the silence of the woods embrace you again. There were no answers to that. You barely stopped pondering the same thing ever since your parents told you a betrothal was the potential reason for the visit from Erebor. Knowing Nurava and what had been said about it as you did, what else was there to do? You weren’t liked in the dwarven circles, your style of ruling and living didn’t live up to what most considered the standards. Your parents both ruled equally, the kingdom’s main income was not from the mines as you had fairly few options on that front. Instead, you worked farms, which you’d learned from the hobbits, you made the finest cloth and weaved from it in the style that still befitted a dwarf, despite the fact you learned more about this particular craft from the elves. You and your family were always welcome at Rivendell. You were merchants and diplomats first, soldiers second. Of course, each of you was trained to fight, but there wasn’t much to use that skill for and to keep perfecting it. There was no glory from a battle that had happened long ago that your kin could boast about. In short, other clans had far more reasons to shun you and talk folly of you than was needed and somehow you were still the first choice to marry the heir to the line of Durin.
It didn’t make any sense at all. But at the very least, it meant that you and Bilbo had a common goal. And maybe when all around everything seemed so unsure, this of all things was the pillar to lean onto.
“I’ll come with you under two conditions,” you said. “First, we have to stop at some point for that ale of yours.”
“I thought your kingdom had a deal with the hobbits or something. Don’t they already supply you with our ale?”
“So?” you asked, eliciting a chuckle out of Bilbo who shook his head and mumbled, “Dwarves,” with so much warmth, you remained temporarily stunned before he looked at you again. “I’m sure you won’t see any of us argue with this condition,” he said. “What’s the second one?”
Your stare hardened. “You don’t mention the prince in my presence.”
“Just the one?” Bilbo asked cheekily.
You grabbed the arrow stuck in the tree trunk and thrust it out before pinching Bilbo’s nose with the blunt end. “Careful, Mister Baggins, your fancy shirt can hardly protect you everywhere.”
Bilbo’s mouth closed shut at that and his hands reached for the collar, trying to set it right so the armor piece could be hidden again, but when it came to you, the damage was already done. “I’ve never seen someone who’s not a dwarf received such gifts.”
“I’ve never seen a dwarf so willing to climb trees.”
“But you’ve seen a dragon,” you said because this was not a topic you wanted to keep coming back to. “And the Arkenstone. And an army of orcs. I doubt I can offer anything that could surprise you.”
Bilbo merely shrugged and outstretched his right hand. “Is it a deal, then?”
“Not a very lucrative one for you. I’m not much of a company, but who am I to stop you?” You shook his hand.
“A nuravian princess?”
“And you’re Thorin Oakenshield’s burglar among other things you won’t share. Seems pretty obvious to me who's the one who lucked out of the two of us."
"You might change your mind if you actually met him."
"Don't push it."
The next day, you were still annoyed, but a deal was a deal and you prepped for the trip as readily as if it had been your idea in the first place. It was all kinds of painful to convince the guards, both Bilbo's and yours, that there was no need to accompany you, but when it came to the talent of persuasion, you'd definitely lucked out.
"We're not having this conversation again. I'm going with them. Alone."
"But, Your Highness, the dangers—"
"What are the plowing dangers you speak of? It's the Shire! The only thing that could happen is that the hobbits might mistake us for their sheep!"
"Our king ordered us—"
"Your king got lost on his way to the Shire."
"Twice," Bofur provided very helpfully.
"Twice," you repeated as if that gave the argument more weight. "So, no, I'm definitely not taking whatever he said into account. You're not in Erebor. Enjoy it instead of babbling on. Drink, feast, be merry, use the hot springs."
"Hey, hold on," Bofur said, "nobody said anything about hot springs."
"And no one's going to," Bilbo cut in, leveling the guards with a serious look. "We should have been on our way long ago. The four of us, let's go. We'll be fine, I promise."
"But the king—"
"If he thought I was going to die here, he'd be here all along. I'll talk to him. You have nothing to worry about. You've been guarding me for months. Enjoy your rest."
Finally, after that, the four of you were finally let go. Your parents hadn’t objected to you going alone when you’d told them. They knew you could take care of yourself and that it was only Shire and that you’d be traveling with three members of the famous fourteen so even that seemed like overdoing it in the land of green grass and tobacco and hearing beer burping in every corner.
So off you went and just as you expected, it was all kinds of frustrating for you to get through the journey.
You were not a particularly talkative dwarf, at least in front of people you did not know. If you were close with them, you could let yourself go and laugh and add to the conversation as much as you were taking from it. Or so Reinfrim told you. But that day it seemed like you wasted all that energy on Bilbo and his guards. So when your three companions took to talking on the road, you listened from time to time but barely said a word or two when it was clear they wanted to include you. It was mostly just Bofur which was good because at least it wasn’t all of them, but at the same time he was the most relentless one for sure. Whenever he turned to you, you briefly looked at him and then looked ahead without a word. It was your defense mechanism. It could be fought against only if you really tried and something told you that even if you did, Bofur wouldn’t let you off so easily. He was a good person that way which against all odds made you smile for the first time that day.
“What’s got her highness so jolly all of a sudden?” Bofur said it because he was also an ass that way and even if it was only in your head, it had to be said.
“Just wondering if you talked this much on the quest too. Because if you did, I would think you were attacked all the time.”
Óin and Bilbo snorted, but Bofur merely grinned. “I thought you said nothing could happen to us in a place like this.”
You glared on instinct before composing yourself and looking away, but Bofur saw it as clear as day and his grin widened with mirth. “And it can’t,” you said, voice unrelenting, “so don’t let me stop you, Master Bofur. Carry on.”
“You could drop the ‘master’. It’s not like out here anyone cares about propriety that much.”
This time it was you who grinned. “Then you don’t know much about hobbits after all.”
Bilbo laughed and when Bofur guided his pony to march beside yours, you didn’t shy away from facing him. “And what is it that you know if you don’t mind me asking?”
And so you told him everything you learned from observing them. That they loved tending to their crops, enjoyed good music, considered their ale to be the best—and knowing how much you enjoyed it yourself, you had no ground to fight them on about that—had vast families, huge birthdays, and imagined no better way how to spend the rest of their lives than living in harmony in the Shire. You said all of this, avoiding looking at Bilbo the whole time despite the fact you were quite confident in everything you’d learned. It had taken you decades, after all.
And while part of you expected Bofur to be at least a slight bit impressed, you weren’t surprised when he just gave you that accomplished smile of his.
“Aye, you seem to know plenty, but you’re missing the essentials. You don’t know what it’s like to live with them.”
You felt heat creeping into your face and fought hard not to say something offensive in reply. Bofur was partly right, you might not know what it was like to have a hobbit in your life, but that didn’t mean all that you have spent decades to learn was complete rubbish.
“Essentials such as what?” you asked.
“Well, for instance, they eat much more often than you would think. Not very practical for traveling, I tell you that.”
“I never complained,” Bilbo protested.
“No, but you certainly looked it,” Óin said. “And Thorin complained enough for the both of you.”
Bilbo cleared his throat and looked away in haste, but you still noticed the red in his cheeks and wondered not for the first time what it would be like if you heard about the quest from Bilbo’s perspective.
He recovered ridiculously quickly when Bofur went on, “They’ve got handkerchiefs with holes in them. No idea what those are for.”
You frowned. What were those for?
“My thoughts exactly,” Bofur said and laughed, ignoring how Bilbo pulled his hair at that. “And they’re bad riders as well. As if they’ve never seen a pony in their lives.”
“Um, do I not get any say in this?” Bilbo asked. “You know, as the only hobbit in the group?”
"And they snore! Not as loudly as we do, mind you, but it's still quite a sound and it's got you wondering how on earth it could come from such a small person."
"That's not true. No one's complained before!"
"You lived on your own. How could anyone know?" Óin joined in and Bilbo shot him a glare for that. "Even I could hear you and all I've got is this." He waved with the horn, and you could no longer help it and laughed loudly much to Bilbo's dismay who shook his head at all three of you when Bofur and Óin joined you.
"See?" Bofur said after the laughter died down, looking at you. "The essentials."
And when you observed how much easier it was for you to travel with them and actually talk to them afterward, you realized with no small frustration and equal fondness that Bofur was right.
There was a lot of shouting once you actually got to Hobbiton. Most of it came from Bilbo's enraged little self when he found out his home had turned into an auction house and that most of his beloved belongings had already been sold to hobbits who were none the wiser. There were two hobbits, in particular, he wanted to hunt down and when he was in the middle of a shouting spree, you started wondering if merely standing by was the right approach.
"Are we sure he's not gonna do anything to them? He's got that letter opener on his belt," you said.
"That's a sword," Bofur said, staring at the spectacle with a peaceful expression as if all was well and merry.
You narrowed your eyes at him. "No... is it?"
"For Bilbo, it is. He's quite good with it too. I'm sure he has things well handled."
You weren't so sure about that and as you saw him raise his arms and flail them around, you approached on instinct. When the two hobbits noticed you and most likely the sword on your back, however, you could do little but watch as they shrieked and fainted on spot.
Bofur laughed. You stared.
Well.
You could say you'd taken care of the problem. Even if in a completely different way than you'd planned.
But Bilbo was happy and was only too eager to get everything from their house that was stolen from him and thrust it all at you, Bofur and Óin before he told you to run.
That was when the trip turned into a small adventure you did not regret partaking in. Even though it involved more searching for Bilbo's belongings and trying to persuade their new owners to give them back. Peacefully this time.
Bilbo’s house looked slightly worse for wear, and he wasted no time in tasking all of you to get it back in shape.
“And no juggling and throwing the dishes, please,” he said particularly to Bofur and looked at you over Bofur’s shoulder, mortified when he found you twirling with one of the plates and throwing it into the air and effortlessly catching it again.
“Who do you take me for?” Bofur asked, oblivious. “Fí-“
Bilbo cleared his throat very pointedly.
-rin!” Bofur practically shouted and turned to you with the widest smile possible. “Cousin Fírin from me mother’s side. Actually, he’s one of my distant relations, but we’re pretty tight considering. Good fella. He’d be juggling with most of the things here.”
Bilbo sighed. “I know, which is why I told you in case you learned something from… Fírin.”
“No juggling. I swear on my life.”
“That goes for you, too, young lady,” Bilbo shot at you too and when Bofur turned around and saw you flash an innocent smile right back, he laughed and harumphed in cheer. “You too, lass? You should compete with Fírin. I know a few guys who’d wager their money on that.”
Somehow you ended up hearing more and more about this Fírin as the day carried on. You didn’t mind particularly but sometimes, Bofur would abruptly stop himself and hum, or clear his throat before telling you something completely different about him without finishing his previous thought. It was odd, but you left him to it, mostly because it required little participation from you, and cleaning the house and sorting out all that came with it was enough of a strain after a day spent roaming around Hobbiton.
Hours in, you could no longer help it and let your frustration be known. After all, why did it matter that every piece of silver was accounted for if Bilbo no longer planned on coming back or taking it with him to Erebor?
He scolded you as if your standing was non-existent and made you remember what it was like when you and Reifrim were caught doing something you shouldn’t have when you were mere dwarflings. He did finish his little tirade with “Your Highness”, but your face was already red and you were on the brink of laughing just as much as you were thinking of some snappish reply. Let it be known that there wasn’t one person who managed to utter your title as if you were the sole reason for their frustrations quite like Bilbo.
But you understood when he told you he planned on leaving the house to his second cousin and his family and the next day, he even made it your priority to pay them a visit. You would never admit you were nervous to a living soul, let alone another dwarf, but there was a reason why you never trespassed over the threshold of mere observation, and while you were starting to ponder whether it was really necessary to keep your distance instead of automatic, you grew quiet and were more and more unresponsive to Bofur’s monologues the closer you got to the visit.
And then the next thing you knew you had a very small hobbit wrapped around your legs and looking at you all doe-eyed as if you hung the moon. It came as such a shock to you that you didn't care much that you had been caught so drastically off guard, but you still swatted Bofur's arm when he grinned at the spectacle and when he let out a very high-pitched shriek in feigned hurt, Frodo laughed so delightfully that you stopped caring altogether.
Drogo and Primula turned out to be one of the nicest people you'd ever met. You liked them instantly and miraculously, they found your company pleasant too. You drank, you ate, enjoyed watching Frodo having the time of his life as he was sitting on Óin's shoulders and directing him where to go, all the while contemplating why it had never occurred to you to try to approach the hobbits sooner.
But you were here now, still baffled by the fact it was because of a group of three that had come bearing news that you had always dreaded hearing one day. When no one was looking, you gazed out of the window, to the west where you knew one would eventually come upon the Lonely Mountain if they'd just kept walking. All you knew, you'd heard from stories. All you feared was because of how hard it was to believe that things would work out for you. But maybe none of this was as black and white as you pictured it, maybe somewhere on the way you were bound to be surprised just as you had been by hobbits that day. Maybe, despite everything, it might all turn out alright.
And even if not, at the very least, you knew with utter certainty that you would remember this day for the rest of your days.
On your way out, you, Bofur, and Óin thanked them for their hospitality and gave Bilbo a moment with them alone to say goodbye. Part of you expected him to change his mind—a notion which definitely didn't seem to be shared by either Bofur or Óin, judging from how at ease they were with waiting outside—but even this assumption turned out to be wrong and Bilbo soon emerged with a smile, looking content and with no weight to his steps. He led, you followed, and questioning any of it suddenly seemed like a waste.
The next day, you helped with loading the wagon with everything Bilbo wanted to carry with them. It wasn't much, just some books and clothes, nothing you considered unreasonable until you noticed Bofur and Óin carrying a chair.
You eyed it, then stared at Bilbo.
"What?" he asked. "It’s got a sentimental value."
You continued to stare.
"It wasn't my idea to take the wagon, just so you know. I only planned on taking the essentials, but Th-" he suddenly cut himself off and sighed, but you saw the corners of his mouth slide up just a tiny bit. "I was overruled."
"I guess different people interpret what's essential differently," you said and offered him a smile.
"I've never looked at it that way, but I think you're right."
“Now let’s get moving, or you’ll make me spend another fortnight with you.”
He laughed at the exaggeration. “Would that be so terrible?”
You eyed him. “You’re not used to being told no, are you, Mister Baggins?”
He said he had not the faintest idea what you meant, but you’d learned a thing or two and something told you this was simply how he operated. It was partly why, after your journey was over and you were back in your mountain the evening before your guests’ departure, you went to look for him and were only mildly annoyed at the conclusion you’d come to.
You found him just outside the mountain by the few farms your people had set up.
“Not worried something will come and eat you here?” you asked. “Or that an arrow will not fly true?”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said and smiled. “I’m glad you went with us.”
You were too, but you were not born yesterday so you just narrowed your eyes at him.
“Really, I am.”
“And I believe you, but, as my father said, you are a force of nature, and you mean much more than you say.”
“You said no, and I plan to respect it.”
“But?”
“But it’s a shame because I still haven’t quite figured out the answer to my question and I worry I never will. Some people can live with that, true, but I’m not usually one of them.”
“I suppose you won’t count causing me a headache as a success.”
Bilbo shook his head, smiling. “May I ask you something?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You always do. That’s why I’m coming with this to you and not your parents.”
“Then ask away.”
“Is being unhappy with the marriage the only reason?”
You waited for a moment, ordering your thoughts. It was a loaded question, but somehow you knew Bilbo wouldn’t judge you even if you let him believe your happiness was all there was to worry about. You gazed back at your mountain. “Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you ever heard about other dwarven kingdoms or settlements? Iron Hills? Moria?”
“They’ve come up, yes.”
“And have you heard about Nurava before your king sent you here?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“And that’s just the thing.”
“I’m afraid I— could you explain that?”
“Deeds make kingdoms known just as much as they bring them down. Nurava had done nothing that would earn them the honor and respect of our people and they still haven’t made up for leaving and coming to live here either.”
“Why are they supposed to make up for that?”
“Dwarves are soldiers, Mister Baggins. My people abandoned that way of living and chose to live next to your people. And even if we have crafts, the only ones we could pride ourselves on are tailoring, bookbinding, and penmanship. These are respected but not when nothing else is worth mentioning. Not when the whole kingdom is seen as cowardly and detached. And you and I both know that there’s no other person who holds a grudge just like a dwarf.”
“I don’t believe that’s all there is to it. I can’t believe it. Thorin said—"
“I don’t know why your king sent you here. I definitely cannot guess why he wants to meet me, let alone for me to marry his first in line. All I know is that we sent help multiple times. Help which was either turned away outright or disregarded. If I come with you, the only thing that will accomplish is that me and my kingdom will be the center of attention and not in a way your king would like.”
“You’re worried there will be protests to your union?”
“From your kingdom, the rest of the royal family. It matters not. What has been shunned cannot be embraced. Not in this world.”
"What makes you say that?"
"Decades of experience."
"You mean decades of observation? The very reason you did not approach any of the hobbits even though you had nothing to fear?"
You clenched your fists. "That was different. You can't possibly compare the two. With one, I was ignorant, I can admit that, but we've been treated like outcasts for centuries and not even a dragon that took over the strongest of dwarven kingdoms and the famous line of Durin almost dying out could change that. What makes you think it's any different now?"
"Because that same dragon was killed not by a dwarf, but by a man. Because it wasn’t just dwarves that defeated the army of orcs. Because the line of Durin almost died out. And most importantly because I was there! I saw it. I know what it was like and with that knowledge, I'm telling you that you're wrong."
But that wasn’t good enough. “Can you honestly promise me that if I come with you, I won’t feel disrespect? Centuries of spitting over us will just disappear?”
“No, I can’t promise that. All I can say is that if it’s how you say, then Bofur and Óin must have known about this and they didn’t say anything when they were asked to accompany me, and neither did they choose to be unkind to you. And if you’re right, then know that at the very least you’ll have a friend in me and an ally in Thorin and that means something if you let it.”
“It’s like I said,” you said after a moment of quiet, a quality of surrender to your voice. “You’re not used to being told no.”
“I’m used to many things. To having good food always at my disposal, to having my peace and quiet, to being alone. All that changed when one evening a wizard came and made a mark on my door and I missed these things every single day I was away. But after all I’ve seen and all I’ve been through, I realized that they are no longer good enough. I’m not an explorer as you are. Trust me when I say that some things are meant to be lived through rather than merely observed from afar.”
“What will they say if they find out my kin is friends with Elrond and his court?”
“An elf has been staying with us in the mountain for months and more and more deals are being struck between the dwarves and the elves of the Wooden Realm and I think we both know that if the dwarves can learn to work with Thranduil, no other elf will be much of an issue.”
“Your prince could be opposed to this union himself. Did you consider that?”
“If he is, or you are on that matter, I’m certain it will be respected. I’m not here to push you or him into anything and neither is Thorin.”
“It seems like too much work just to connect you to the kingdom that’s so far from your own.”
Bilbo smiled, a small but mischievous thing. “So you’re curious too?”
You scoffed, but there was little left of your strength to keep fighting him and he was right. You were curious yourself. “I have one condition.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll take Reifrim with me. If the union did not come to be, I can’t afford to lose the chance of having relations with Erebor even if I believe our efforts to be futile. He’ll come with us to help me negotiate the terms with your king. He’s much better at it than me and as the future king, I can imagine the experience will only serve him well.”
“We’ll be happy to have him.”
“You won’t feel the same after a few days, but for now, I thank you, Mister Baggins, and I will see you tomorrow.”
And that appeared to be that.