Gifted - Chapter 1

GIFTED

Chapter 1

Clip, clop, drip, drop.

Gandalf’s keen ears, trained from years and years of living in Middle Earth, picked each minuscule sound the fields beyond Beorn’s home had to offer. The hooves of their steeds knocking against stone and the passing of the morning dew off plants. The old wizard smiled to himself, pleased with how things were moving along smoothly for the time being. It would be a shame to leave them as he must do in a few day’s time. He was quite pleased with his own foresight though, watching Bilbo, Thorin and Balin discuss something – the hobbit and the dwarf king were getting along much better.

Sometimes I surprise myself with how well I can see the relationships of Middle Earth, potential or otherwise, Gandalf mused to himself.

Frankly though, the white haired wizard was wary. These dark tidings spreading across Middle Earth did not spell anything good. He rather hoped that the evil he felt would spare Thorin and his Company; they would need any and all luck they could lay their hands on. Smaug was still part of the picture; the wizard would not rest easy until he heard word that spoke otherwise.

They stopped for midday break at the peak of a grassy hill, using the small shrubbery as a shield – in case the white orc Azog was still hot on their trail. Gandalf had privately noted that he ought to see about getting that menace off the dwarves’ tail, the added stress could not be good for the King in exile – Thorin had enough grey hairs to be getting on with.

Gandalf had seated himself away from the group, content to puff on his pipe and observe the land about him - all the while deep in thought and considering Galadriel’s words. She was well known for seeing things others could not, her mind was sharper than Saruman’s for one thing and thank the Valar, else no one would be watching over Middle Earth save for him.

“Gandalf?” Bilbo says, sidling up to him and a hand in his jacket pocket. There is an odd look on his face, resignation and yet there was some peace amongst those eyes.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf greeted his friend, inclining his head. “You seem troubled”

“I could say the same to you” Bilbo replied, settling himself down on the grass and crossing his legs. He dug for his pipe, murmuring in thanks when Gandalf leaned forward and lit it with a snap of his fingers. “You’ve done naught but stare off into the distance since we left Beorn’s company”

“Perceptive little hobbit you are” Gandalf chuckled. “In your words though, I could say the same to you – though much earlier than I started being trapped by my own mind”

They are silent for a few moments, allowing themselves to watch the Company interact in the small moment of down time they had managed to obtain. Kili and Fili were jostling their Uncle, begging Thorin to show them a trick with a small dagger that had previously been in Kili’s belt. Ori was buried deep in his faded journal, writing feverishly and ink spots on his cheeks. Thorin, it appeared, had given up trying to dissuade his nephews and was currently spinning the dagger between his fingers with practiced ease. Bofur laughs as Kili attempts the same trick with a fallen stick and fails, pouting at his older brother, who has the trick down pat with his own stick.

“When are you leaving us?” Bilbo asked suddenly.

“Three days from now, your birthday if I remember correctly” Gandalf replied. He smiled knowingly at his friend as he spluttered, the pipe dangling from his mouth. “I am sorry I cannot be here for any of the celebrations, minor though they will be”

“No celebrations this year Gandalf” Bilbo said sharply. “We’ve much more important things to fuss over, that Mountain isn’t going to reclaim itself” he added. “I suppose I best do this now then” he said quietly, pulling his pack towards him and drawing it open. “Since you will not be with us then”

“Ahh, I have forgotten that old pastime you hobbits do so enjoy”

Bilbo snorted. “I rather don’t enjoy it, a rather pain in the neck it is – trying to organise this sort of thing on the road, honestly! Quite frankly I’ve not been able to do this for many back home, I do dislike many of my relatives”

“Lobelia Sackville-Baggins am I correct?”

“You have no idea”

Bilbo had finished digging around in his bag and, having found what he was apparently searching for, turned back to Gandalf and deposited an object wrapped in cloth into the wizard’s lap. Gandalf smiled warmly in thanks and laid down his staff to peel away the cloth wrappings. A hand crafted leather belt fell into his hands, an intricate design carved into its surface and a special loop on one side – this Gandalf knew was to keep his sword close by. It was exquisite work.

So, Gandalf smiled easily, this is what Bilbo has been working so tirelessly on. I expect he has a few more treasures stowed away in that pack of his.

“This is marvellous work Bilbo” Gandalf complimented. “Thank you”

“The leather has been dipped in tar; it should preserve the strength long past the natural life of the belt. A great boon when one is always in the midst of some new adventure” Bilbo explained, tipping his pipe in Gandalf’s direction. “It should serve someone like you very well I’d imagine”

Gandalf chuckled. “I suppose you are right, the Baggins side of you has always been rather insightful”

“Yet the Took side sent me running out my door barely before breakfast” Bilbo responded, chuckling along with Gandalf.

The wizard continued to chortle as he pulled his old fabric belt away, replacing it with Bilbo’s hand crafted leather one instead. It made quite the sight, the shiny dark material contrasting against the dirty grey robes. Gandalf slid Glamdring and its scabbard into the loop attached. It fit perfectly. He had been correct, Bilbo’s work was exquisite.

“I may not be a fighter, nor a burglar but I am a Baggins” Bilbo was saying softly, his eyes downcast. “And preparing these few things was something I could do that did not suitably embarrass me in front of the whole Company”

“My dear Bilbo, Thorin and his fellows respect you to the core of their souls” Gandalf replied, pulling his staff back towards him. “You need not worry about any embarrassment from your part; I rather think it will most likely come from Thorin when he must inform his kin that he was saved by a hobbit”

“What will I do when you are gone?” Bilbo asked, a small grin worming its way onto his features.

“The same as you have thus far, my dear Bilbo”

This seemed to placate the hobbit for he chuckled softly and puffed on his pipe, blowing a smoke ring. Gandalf lifted his staff, murmured a spell and turned it into a small bird that flew over to the dwarves and burst on Dori, who had been sleeping. The white haired dwarf awoke with a sputter and fell over, brushing away at the smoke that he had somewhat inhaled.

Bilbo and Gandalf dissolved into laughter, which caused the rest of the Company to join in. Dori merely glared at them all pointedly and tossed his head, stating that he’d been simply caught off guard and he’d been considering a plan for killing the dragon. This caused Nori to mumble a distinct ‘yeah right’ and little Ori had to jump between the brothers before a scuffle ensued. Gandalf didn’t miss the small smile that was shared between Bilbo and Thorin.

Was I right or was I right? Gandalf thought with an inward smile. There is some hope for that stubborn dwarf after all.

-x-

When they stopped to make camp for the night Dori was informed by Thorin it was his turn to collect firewood. The elderly dwarf did not complain, merely hefted himself to his feet and started away into the undergrowth not caring to check who his companion would be. He heard a muffled voice volunteer to go with him but still did not turn around. It wasn’t until they were quite thick amongst the trees did he turn and find himself collecting firewood right beside Bilbo Baggins.

Dori simply continued on collecting firewood, he had no problem with their burglar. In the beginning yes, he had rather thought that the halfling would not be any use to their quest. Although, unlike the other dwarves, he had seen Bilbo’s potential much earlier. It came from being around Nori for so many years; one could often pick those who could get away with illegal things as easily as Dori could braid his beard.  Bilbo was picking it up, albeit slowly, but he was reminding Dori a lot of his younger, ginger haired brother. His approach was the same, let them approach him. It saved him a whole heap of trouble and allowed Dori to assess whether they were aiming their misgivings against him.

Not that Bilbo Baggins was one to be frightened of. His guilt would manifest itself rather quickly and he would fork over whatever he had taken from Dori before said dwarf had even realised it was missing.

“You seem to be deep in thought there” Bilbo said, breaking the silence.

Dori looked back at him, a considering look floating across his face. “I am always thinking Master Baggins” Dori said with a shrug. “I am used to retreating to my mind and working over countless thoughts, long periods of silence do not unsettle me as they do to others”

Bilbo smiled at that. “I couldn’t agree with you more” he said. “Many back in the Shire would be quick to interrupt me when I was sitting on my front porch with my pipe, even when I’m clearly minding my own business thank you very much, just to enquire about what I was thinking so deeply of”

“We dwarves are often the same, if not worse. Especially the younger ones, very keen to know everything about everyone they are, Ori’s going through that particular stage sadly. He’s a curious lad but he’s been a good sight worse since we left on this quest”

The hobbit laughed softly. “He’s a good kid Dori” he said softly, shifting his pile of sticks under one arm and digging around in his jacket. The dwarf frowned, what was he looking for? “It is natural for the lad to be curious; a lot of my young cousins are exactly the same”

Dori tried to focus on what the hobbit was saying but he could not because he was too busy staring at Bilbo. The halfling was looking for something and when a soft ‘a-hah’ of success sounded in the silence of the trees. Dori did a double take when Bilbo’s hand extended, offering him a cloth wrapped rectangle. What in the name of Aulë . . . .

“It’s for you” Bilbo said and Dori found himself wanting to roll his eyes because of course it was – the hobbit had just handed it to him!

He shook the cloth free and a small book fell into his free hand, no bigger than Ori’s journal and secured with a leather strapping. Dori’s eyes widened and he dropped his pile of wood beside his feet, carefully opening the book and beginning to leaf through the pages. It was filled with strange notes in Westron and diagrams of herbs, tonics and broths.

“It’s a complete collection of all hobbit medicines” Bilbo explained. “I thought you might like it – mixing hobbit healing and dwarven healing may pay off in the future, considering the type of environment we are walking into quite blindly”

Dori could only stare at the journal, Bilbo had hand written this! It was so very detailed and – Mahal above – had he made the cover of this book as well? Bilbo was cheerfully whistling a tune under his breath as he bent to gather the wood that Dori had left on the floor. When Bilbo straightened he and Dori locked eyes and the dwarf took a step forward.

To be offered a gift such as this, frankly Dori was bewildered as to why he had been given it. But he was a good dwarf and had been raised with good morals so he simply raised an arm and clapped Bilbo lightly on the shoulder. He rather hoped that . . . . well that made absolutely no sense considering how different they were and yet, how could it not mean . . . . Dori shook his head as though clearing his ears of water.

“It is comprehensive and well detailed” Dori complimented, smiling. He cleared his throat, finding himself unsure of what he should say next. “You had no need to do this but still, I thank you”

Bilbo tossed his head and huffed, sticking his nose up into the air. He looked rather dainty in doing so. “Dwarves” he muttered. “I am aware that I did not have to do it, I chose to do it and you’re better off for it so why question it at all?”

With that said Bilbo moved off back towards camp, muttering under his breath and his small nose tossed into the air. Dori muffled a chuckle with his fist, bent to collect some firewood so as not to incur Thorin’s wrath. Perhaps things were not all as Dori would have liked to think.

-x-

Night fell quickly, the Company falling into their sleeping mats with sheer exhaustion and Thorin turned to Bombur, informing him that it was his turn to keep watch. The red haired dwarf had hooked up his breeches and nodded without complaint, even when the King in exile told him that Bilbo Baggins was to keep watch beside him. Bombur nodded again and had seated himself in front of the fire, armed with his poker and set about pushing about the logs with a melancholy hum under his breath.

Bombur had always felt out of sorts within the Company. Despite Bofur’s insistence that the others were simply underestimating him and Bombur had simply to show him his worth, Bombur always thought he was the odd one out. Until they had met Bilbo Baggins that is. Suddenly Bombur wasn’t the only one who preferred the comforts of home, nor was he the only one who actively missed said home. He had always felt as though he and Bilbo could get along quite well.

The fire cracked loudly in the dark of the night and, though they both would have done so in nights gone past, neither Bilbo nor Bombur reacted. Noises in the night were now a part of life, their lesson was well learnt after they had plummeted into the Goblin Kingdom.

“A quiet night” Bilbo said softly.

“Aye, I am thankful for that at least” Bombur replied, just as softly. “I fear for my brother each time we face battle”

“Bofur is doing what he thinks is right” Bilbo said, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “In fact he’s been one of the bravest upon this quest; he was most welcoming of my questions”

“Indeed, I have never known my brother to be anything but welcoming. His courage is, as you say, as wide as Erebor itself. I fear, however, that he may one day injure himself in his haste to prove his worth or protect those whom he loves”

Bilbo cocked his head to one side and then made a noise of agreement. He seemed to be battling with himself internally for the moment and Bombur turned his gaze away, giving the hobbit some privacy to sort through his thoughts. One thing he had found when dealing with hobbits, or rather this hobbit in particular, was that they needed space to work things out and should they be pressured they could get quite anxious.

“I cannot find it within myself to call your words wrong Bombur” Bilbo admitted at last. Bombur turned to look back at him. There was a bittersweet smile on his face. “Although I guess I feel the same about every person in this Company, Azog is out there and I am certain the Goblins will not rest knowing that we played a part in their King’s downfall”

“Aye,”

“Some of us are young yet, they should not have to see the horrors that this quest will surely bring” Bilbo continued, turning his head to gaze over to where Fili and Kili slumbered, the latter tucked into the side of his brother as though seeking protection. The hobbit was fiercely protective of the two princes, something Bombur was not surprised at – he did have a large brood of children after all.

Paternal instincts were vicious traits after all but they were ones to be proud of and those who shared them often understood those were not so understood.

“Oh, whilst we are talking alone I can give you this” Bilbo said suddenly, turning to his pack and beginning to dig around in the contents. A soft clattering sound broke the air and Bilbo muttered a soft curse in his hobbit language before turning back to face the dwarf, a soft pouch clasped in his hands. “I hope nothing broke” the hobbit muttered somewhat fretfully before turning to Bombur and offering the pouch to him. “This is for you”

Bombur reached out with a shaky hand and accepted the pouch, a little shocked at Bilbo’s straightforward nature all of a sudden. This was rather odd by all accounts and Bilbo Baggins was an odd hobbit indeed. Unlike most others Bombur did not question the gift and set about opening the pouch, his mouth falling open when he discovered a collection of small ceramic jars, each labelled with the names of well-known spices in the tongue of Westron.

“Like myself you enjoy the comforts of a good meal, it seemed a shame to waste Beorn’s spectacular garden, I doubt he would know what a good fish roast is if it came and danced in front of his face” Bilbo said animatedly, gesturing with his hands. “Being that he lives away from a large water source and all” he added. “See there, we have sage, parsley, coriander and oh! Just a small thing of cinnamon too!”

Bombur ran his fingers carefully over the jars and then pulled the pouch tight about them, leaning over and setting them beside his other cooking things. He turned back to Bilbo, searching the hobbit’s face for a sign of what Bombur was certain would not end well for the hobbit. Bombur had no such interests but he was pleased nonetheless with the gift.

“Thank you Master Baggins” Bombur said honestly, bowing his head lightly. “But I cannot accept such a gift, considering the circumstances we. . .”

“Nonsense!” Bilbo interrupted, waving away the protests. “I want you to have it, besides I have no such use for these herbs, after all you are the cook in our Company so it is only fair”

Bombur nodded in understand, tensing as the soft hoot of an owl called in the night. Bilbo stretched and got to his feet, moving over to wake Nori for his watch as Bombur turned to wake Bofur. The larger dwarf watched the hobbit carefully as he rolled open his sleeping mat between Kili and Thorin, curled into a ball and shifted into slumber. Bombur adjusted his beard thoughtfully.

There is more to you than meets the eye Bilbo Baggins.

-x-

“Come on you great lug, get up!” Oin growled, nudging his brother with his boot.

Gloin grumbled something incoherent and obliged, shaking out his beard and allowing his brother to pull him to his feet. It was a cool morning and many of the dwarves had pulled their hoods about themselves, seeking comfort from the haze that had fallen over the land. Satisfied that his brother was moving and not shirking his load Oin grunted and moved off the gather his belongings, hauling them over to strap them to the ragged looking grey pony he rode. The pony gave a snort, butting its head into Oin’s arm in greeting.

“Mornin’ to you too” Oin muttered quietly, stroking the pony’s nose. A soft neigh was the response he got. “Couldn’t agree more” Oin continued, forgetting his surroundings. “Ruddy awful weather ain’t it?”

“I wouldn’t go that far” a new voice answered, slightly muffled. Oin held up his ear horn. “But it is a tad chilly I must agree” the voice continued. Oin grunted. That voice hadn’t come from his pony but from another species altogether.

Bilbo Baggins, resident hobbit of the Company. Oin nodded in greeting, turning back to his pony as Bilbo turned to his own, strapping supplies into the saddle bags. He cared not what the hobbit thought of him, he rather thought the other believed all dwarves to be rather strange considering the manner in which they had met. Aulë, even dwarves found Oin to be rather odd with his lack of hearing and tendency to carry on gruff conversations with animals.

Being a black smith he had shoed many a horse for both men and dwarves alike, Oin had found that talking to the beasts was a good way to calm them and had yet to get rid of the habit. Bilbo seemed unfazed though and was murmuring to his own pony himself.

“You like horses then?” Bilbo asked then, turning back to face Oin.

The old dwarf shrugged. “I’ve worked horses for many a year Master Hobbit, ‘spose you could say it’s just natural for me” he said, rubbing the pony’s flank. He wanted to be sure that his steed was properly warmed up for when they started out. The pony nickered in pleasure.

“Straight from the horse’s mouth so to speak” Bilbo chuckled, rubbing the neck of his honey coloured ride. “So you bred horses?”

“Nay, I worked as a blacksmith and when one lives in times of peace Master Hobbit the only work to be found is shoeing horses, not much call for blades in the Blue Mountains you see”

“Well that would explain why you and your brother both take fine care of your weapons” Bilbo mused, batting away his pony as it nudged his hand seeking food. “Dwarven blacksmiths are exceptionally good at their craft; I’ve read all about it”

Oin offered a smile, rare as it was. “Well once we reclaim our home perhaps you will stay on long enough to see the true nature of our craft” he mused. “It is one thing to read about it but yet another to witness it with your own eyes”

“Gandalf said as much back in Bag End”

“Wise wizard Gandalf is, it would do us all well to listen to him more often” Oin muttered. “Don’t be tellin’ Thorin I said that now”

Bilbo shook his head quickly, making his curly hair bounce. Oin nodded in thanks and returned his gaze to the pony, crooning softly at it and running his hands over its body to work the muscles. A comfortable silence fell between the two, broken only by the sounds of the other members of the Company packing up camp a few metres away. So absorbed in his work Oin was that he almost jumped out of his skin when Bilbo sidled up next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder to catch his attention.

“By Aulë” Oin murmured, returning his ear horn to its rightful place. “You gave me quite a fright there”

“My apologies, you really are hard of hearing without your ear horn aren’t you my friend?” Bilbo said sympathetically. “Your ear horn has seen a few years on it” he added, gesturing to the object in question.

Oin shrugged. “I have had it since we settled in the Blue Mountains” he said. “It’s served me well enough”  

Bilbo shuffled on his feet, before digging into his coat pocket and withdrawing an object wrapped in cloth. The halfling cleared his throat somewhat pointedly and deposited the package into Oin’s hands with a sheepish look on his dirt streaked face.

“It’s for you” he said. Oin wanted to roll his eyes but refrained, clearly seeing that Bilbo was not finished speaking yet. “Yours must be quite old by now and a replacement would do you . . . . uh some good. At least that’s what I hope”

Oin lowered his gaze and pulled the cloth away, revealing a shiny brass ear horn. It was sleeker than his and of polished copper; it shone and glinted in the sunlight. Oin turned it over and over in his hands, it had been expertly crafted and he lifted it tentatively to his ear to test it. His eyes widened as he realised that he could hear much clearer, even when he had his old ear horn.

“This is much better, thank you Master Hobbit” Oin said gratefully, digging for his purse. “Now how much should I be givin’ you for such a wonderful job?” he asked, making a startled noise when Bilbo slapped the purse away lightly.

“No payment nesecarry please Oin” Bilbo said hurriedly. He smiled. “It is a gift, from me to you”

Oin started, a gift? Not unheard of it was certainly true but to come from a hobbit and for it come from said hobbit to him was . . . strange to say the least. He stared at the ear horn in his hands and then looked back up into Bilbo’s smiling face, no trace of understanding of what this might mean. Oin was quite certain there was something more to this and wanted to say something but found he could not. The halfling was clearly pleased that Oin liked the gift and he didn’t want to burst that particular bubble, not when for so long they had travelled with a hobbit less than pleased about being there or keen on opening up. So he simply thanked the halfling and watched as Bilbo took off back towards camp to cajole Kili and Fili into moving faster, Thorin barking his agreement as he did so.

Oin supposed that had in part to do with Thorin for their king could be quite intimidating when he wanted to. By Mahal the lad didn’t even have to move a single muscle to frighten the living daylights out of some poor soul. They really had to work on his people skills if he was to truly lead their people.

Mind you though, Oin realised, our great King has done nothing but smile at the hobbit since he saved his life from Azog.

Bilbo Baggins may be a strange one indeed and for this, Oin was very grateful.