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“I know that voice,” Thorin said, voice shaking, even as Dwalin curled around him like a coat. Both of them were trembling. “I heard it before. Here, during the expedition. It can't – that's not –”
“I need to email Sam,” Ori said. “Maybe it was a prank or – or something. There's no way...how does this – this spirit or whatever it know my name?”
“Okay, okay, everyone take a breath,” Fíli was the voice of reason in the room. “I'll be the first to admit that this is by far the most clear recording I have ever heard before. Bar none. But we can't jump to conclusions. Not so fast. Let's take the night and regroup tomorrow. How many days do you have your permit for again Ori?”
“Two weeks.”
“So we have fourteen days to figure this out.” Fíli held up his hands as both Thorin and Dwalin turned identical glares at him. “We need to prove that this is legit and you know it Uncle. We have to search the entire place from top to bottom and I'd feel better if we actually stayed in there while we did it. Is that allowed in the permit, Ori?”
“I'll have to check with Sam.”
“Please do. We have to rule out that someone isn't playing a prank on us.” A shadow moved over Fíli's face and Ori knew what he was thinking about. It had been Fíli's worst scandal to date when it came to his ArdaTube channel. That inn in Bree had been a set up, a way to both prank and discredit Fíli by some other ArdaTube channel owners, namely one Azog the Defiler. (A name given to himself by himself for his so-called quest to disprove the existence of ghosts and the paranormal). Fíli had almost gotten into a brawl with the owner of the inn and this Azog and the police had been called on Fíli for it, all of it caught on video and posted all over ArdaTube for months after.
“He's right,” Ori said, looking away. “We have to be as thorough as possible. I'll email Sam right now and we'll redo the knock experiment tomorrow. If we don't get anything then...maybe it really was a prank. But we'll know better then. Let's not get our hopes up too much.”
At that everyone scattered. Ori had originally planned to stay at a small motel down the road, near the Tuckborough Park since there was nothing closer, but now all he wanted was to just sleep in his car and get back to work as soon as possible the next day. Nori wouldn't hear of it, had actually gotten them a place in a local Arda B&B where it turned out Fíli was staying as well. Thorin and Dwalin were staying in their camper in the parking lot while Kíli and Tauriel went to a hotel near the tiny town of Michel Delving.
By the time they'd regrouped in the morning Ori had the good, if shocking, news to report that they were, in fact, allowed to camp inside the ruins of Bad End for the entire time of Ori's permit.
“Did you bribe him?” was all Thorin could say.
“I would never!”
“Don't mind him,” Dwalin said over a steaming cup of coffee. “He's still bitter about our expedition ending. He tried for months to reach that friend of yours but he never heard anything back from them.”
“Oh,” Ori said and ducked his head. “Well, technically Sam just took over the permitting process from his father – that's Hamfast Gamgee, I think you were dealing with him, and according to Sam his dad doesn't even know how email works so it's entirely possible old Mr. Gamgee had no idea you were trying to get in contact with him.”
Thorin's expression just turned blacker at the news. Ori wilted in his seat.
That morning they went up and moved into what Thorin's expedition had determined to be the old front hall of Bag End. Thorin and Dwalin had bought tents for them all and had them shipped to their camper overnight. Ori didn't bother trying to argue about it. Then they all split up and went over the ruins from end to end, searching every nook and cranny for any type of device, anything that could make a sound, any possible explanation for the sounds they had captured the night before.
There was nothing. The ruins had long lost whatever furnishings it had once had and all that remained were the buried beams that kept the structure from collapsing in on itself and the few stone pieces left: the remains of the four hearths, a smaller room which might have once been a bath, the tiled floor of the kitchen and the well. Thorin's expedition had come out with a few long-buried brass buttons, a broken piece of what was probably a pipe, and strangely enough what Dwalin swore was the metal remains of a small sheath for a dagger.
The hobbits of lore were peaceful folk who, for the most part, did not bear arms. What few battles they had been in were recorded with great fanfare in the small museum in Michel Delving, watched over by those who claimed to have hobbit blood in them but no one knew for certain. The Tuken family claimed they were the last of the Took line but few regarded that claim as anything but bluster. The entire Tuken line were tall, almost as tall as Men, and some genealogists had traced them back to a knight in Gondor, so how could they possibly be of hobbit descent? The Gamgee line was also rumored to have hobbit ancestors but no one knew for certain and that family refused to answer such questions.
Wandering through the remains of Bag End always made Ori feel sad. The long hallway, the many pantries and cellars, the sitting room and large dining room, all of it was set up for a large family, but in what little lore they did have about Bag End, the Baggins family – at least the original one – had only one son, whose name was still up for debate in some academic circles. From the fragments of the several versions of the Red Book of Westmarch that remained (and that academics had access to) they knew the son's name started with a B. That was all. Some theorized that he was named after his mother, who also seemed to have had a name that started with the same letter but none were certain. The Thain's line did have a better record of their descendants but no one knew for certain exactly which daughter had married into the Baggins line. But that sole heir seemed to have passed without issue and the house first went to a cousin, a Sack-something, the records were unclear, and then to another Baggins, Fr-something. There was argument about that heir as well, since the house was mentioned in a rather bawdy song, supposedly about said heir, that he had owned a rose with two stems that gave birth to flowers both light and dark. Researchers had been debating the true meaning of the song for centuries.
Ori had been on the side of this heir having multiple spouses but he was one of the few arguing that idea. Dwarven society often had such configurations since their birth rate was still so low and the ratio of females to males were still much lower. Men seemed to be scandalized by the sheer mention of such family types and the elves, well. They just seemed puzzled by it, despite several well known historical triads known in their history.
(Ori had always loved the epic of Glorfindel and Ecthelion's courtship of one Master Erestor in the Fourth Age. Legend had it that Ecthelion had come from over the sea to join his husband Glorfindel in his wooing of Master Erestor, who was a counselor to the legendary Lord Elrond. There were entire lay cycles about the courting, each grander than the other, but recent research had determined that the most fantastical one, the one claiming that Glorfindel and Ecthelion had marched on Mordor for Erestor's honor, was surely a made up tale from the Sixth Age. What little they did know was that Ecthelion did come from the West, that there was some sort of ceremony between Glorfindel, Ecthelion, and Erestor, but no one knew for sure just what it was or when it was. Ori wanted to kick all the historians from Mordor who claimed that the three were all just bosom friends and that Glorfindel and Ecthelion were not married at all.)
Anyway.
After searching the entire ruin they all settled in, making sure all their gear was kept in dry places and that they had a folding table set up so they could go over the recordings together. By sunset they had everything in place, ready to go once the sun went down.
Ori stood where the old front porch used to be and turned to watch the sunset. Once, it was said, the Shire was full of life and hobbits, each with a garden patch and more flowers than one could count. If Bag End had ever had a flower garden it was long gone, the porch area full of bare dirt and stubby grass. It was theorized that there had to have been a little bench outside, with a stone path – something Thorin and Dwalin did find – and what could have been an herb garden at one time along the fence. All of it was gone now, along with the flowers. It made Ori rather sad to think about.
The ruins of Bag End were such that once they put the fake door in place their front hall lost almost all light from the waning crescent moon outside. They were far enough into the old Shire borders that all city and town light was almost negligible. As true dark descended Ori got back into place in front of the door and waited for everyone to get settled.
Then he knocked, once, twice, three times, just like before. This time there was no strange feeling, no hair prickling at the back of his neck. But there was something that itched at him...
“Hello,” Ori said into that silence, seeing Fíli glance at him from his place by the door. “You said my name yesterday. I was wondering...you know some of us, but can you name us all?”
That was when that hair-raising feeling struck again. The silence was absolute. Ori couldn't even hear the sound of wind through the grasses. He knew it was silly but Ori could almost swear he saw a shadow move behind the panels of their fake door, when he knew for certain there was no one inside. Tauriel was guarding the back entrance, along with Kíli on the one other broken entry wall. No one could have slipped by them. They were alone.
Ori chewed on his lower lip and then stepped up to that door, laying a hand on it. “I'm sorry I can't hear you, not like this. Would you...would you let us come inside? Sam – Sam Gamgee said we could stay here, but I wanted to make sure it was alright with you as well. And if you could,” Ori sucked in a breath. “Could you tell us your name?”
Minutes ticked by. That strange feeling faded bit by bit as the sound of wind rushed back again, an insect chirped, and Ori could finally hear the distant roar of an airplane overhead. The goosebumps on his skin had barely faded when they gathered around that folding table to listen to the recording once again.
There was silence for a long, long moment after Ori's first few knocks. Then, after he spoke, that was when they got another shock.
...Ori, of course I know you Ori. You shouldn't...gone...doom. Dwalin, oh Thorin...
Ori rocked back in his seat, colliding with a warm chest. He looked up to see Fíli standing behind him but the dwarf's gaze was glued to the computer.
And then. And then.
...Fíli? Kíli? Oh my boys...Nori? Nori is that you? And Tauriel...
Ori saw Dwalin gather Thorin up in his arms.
...it's Bilbo, don't you...ember...it's Bilbo...
And pandemonium descended.
“There's no way,” Thorin was roaring, pacing back and forth in their little encampment, Dwalin trailing after him. “Fíli and Kíli never once came to the expedition and I didn't even know Nori until Ori introduced us yesterday. How do they – this – I can't...”
“This will absolutely change everything,” Fíli said. He was pressed shoulder to shoulder with Ori at the table, both of them staring at the computer screen. “This isn't...this isn't some knocks on the wall or a jumble of sound that you think is a name or a response. Ori, this is real.”
“I know,” Ori whispered. He had his hands locked together in his lap to keep them from shaking. Nori had gone out to the porch to smoke but Ori had seen how shaken his brother was.
“But what did he mean?”
“Who?” Ori looked up at Fíli to see him frowning, tapping at the recording they had made. The software had captioned the words as best it could, with them cleaning up a few of the names the program didn't know.
“This Bilbo,” Fíli's frown deepened and a strange look passed over his face. “I know that name. I know it. I just don't know from where.”
“Me too,” Ori admitted. They shared a look. “What doom do you think he's talking about? I've never...I'm a bookkeeper. The worst doom I could get into is with the tax bureau.”
“I have no idea.”
Ori bowed his head. He jumped when an arm went over his shoulders and he was pulled against Fíli's side. “Don't worry about it. Like you said. You're an accountant. No doom for you. I'll make sure of it.”
“A bookkeeper not an accountant,” Ori said and tried his best not to go tomato red.
“Uh, you guys?” Nori's voice broke the moment. Everyone turned. The fake door was propped open, so Ori could see his brother's silhouette against the night sky. “You should come out here.”
Ori scrambled to stand, with Fíli getting a hand under his elbow to help him up. Thorin and Dwalin were the first outside with Ori hot on their heels. He turned to where Nori was pointing, his mouth going dry with shock.
On either side of the door, arching up and over the ruined entrance to Bag End and then spreading over the old roof, was a bramble of roses in full bloom.