Chapter Text
August 1
If it wasn't for the fact that Bilbo Baggins had to be at morning services, he knew he would be a complete and utter wreck. As Master Baggins of Bag End, Head of the Baggins Clan, his duties to his tenants and his family were a well worn path that he could walk without sparing too much thought. Which really was just as well, otherwise he would still be abed, hiding his head under the covers, and denying what the Valar had done - which was to send him, Bilbo Baggins, back in time after his death to set right what he had so totally and royally, (real royalty if of the Dwarvish variety), screwed up. That ring, that blasted, rotten, Orc shite, not fit for the compost heap, ring had been the trigger for the entire blasted mess, and then, then he had run back to the Shire rather than follow the Green Lady's will and help restore the lands around Erebor - which in turn had meant that there was not enough food for the dwarrow to expand their kingdom as it had been meant to. One bad choice after another, and although it had worked out, (if not well than at least it hadn't ended with Sauron winning), the Green Lady had not been at all pleased, nor had her husband Mahal the Smith.
So here Bilbo was, sitting in his place at morning services, waiting for the eldest priestess, (his great-aunt Rose, youngest sister to his grandfather, the Old Took), to begin the Welcoming, and mentally dithering over what Yavanna had ordered him to do. There was so much to do! He had eight months before Thorin and the rest of the Company, including Gandalf, the meddler, showed up at his smial to begin the trek to the Lonely Mountain, but how was he to convince the rest of the Shire to feed the dwarrow caravans, supply them, welcome the dwarrow when they showed up, not to mention his own preparations, and how in Yavanna's Green Garden was he supposed to heal the lands around Erebor, and destroy that, that, that RING on his own?
He really should have known better. The moment the ringing voices of the priestess' from the Song of Welcome died, Lady Yavanna spoke.
Now, it was well known that although the Valar did not walk Middle Earth anymore so as not to trigger another War of Wrath, they did speak to their priests and priestesses fairly often. Usually it was only their priests and priestesses during their ceremonies, but there were occasional exceptions, and Yavanna was the most notable as her ceremonies took place under the Party Trees - and any Hobbit that could attended so that if the Green Lady had anything to say they would all hear it, and could pass it on to those who had to stay away because of some inconvenience.
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The Dwarrow settlement in the mountains of Ered Luin was a poor place for Khazad, but those who dwelt there had long faced hardships and were grateful for the small halls that had been reclaimed from the broken mountain range. They were no longer the starving, wandering Khazad that had been sent running from Erebor, the Lonely Mountain and the dragon that had claimed their mountain and the treasure hoard contained within. Many of them still cursed Thror, King Under the Mountain for his gold sickness, and praised his grandson, King in Exile Thorin Oakenshield, for his constant hard work, both at the forge and in dealing with the necessary politics that had resulted in them being, if not housed in grandeur, at least no longer homeless, and if hungry, no longer starving.
Yes, Thorin was a dour dwarf, but having survived the deaths of most of his family, (and having most of those deaths take place in front of him), none blamed him for his dark, brooding scowl. Instead they praised him for ordering even the noble lords and councilors to work at their crafts so as to provide for their clan, and for opening a dining hall for everyone to be able to get a meal, even if it wasn't the best during the long months of winter, nor the most filling when the clan's coffers were tight. Any of the clan could get a meal for free, (and almost everyone did so at every meal time though there were many who worked through their lunches), and it was obvious that the royal family went without as often as the commoners did, because the royal family's place in the dining hall was at the front of the large room on a slight dais so that all could see exactly what the royals were having - which was exactly what everyone else was being served, and sometimes less. Greed among the Longbeard clan had swiftly become something that not even the worst of the traditionalist Khazad would tolerate.
So it was with great unease that the gathered clan watched the four members of the royal family as the cooks brought out their breakfast. King Thorin, and his sister-sons, golden Crown Prince Fili, and his younger brother dark Prince Kili, looked shattered sitting next to Princess Dis. The watching Khazad were well familiar with the look, so many of the survivors of Smaug the Terrible having lost their Ones to dragon fire, but to have all three of the male royals wearing the same look, and none of them having found their Ones to anyone's knowledge, could only mean that Mahal the Smith, the Father of the Khazad, had spoken to them. No one was optimistic enough to think that the message had been a good one, so the only merry making was done by the few dwarflings as the elders waited to find out what new calamity was about to befall the Longbeard clan.
It was to this somber sight that the Priests of Mahal entered the dining hall in a small procession. There were few who had survived the dragon, but enough youngsters had taken up the priesthood in the years that followed that the clan was not entirely without those who could perform the necessary ceremonies. There were still not enough to make a great procession, but honestly that suited most of the clan at the moment. They were not the wealthy clan that they had been, and spending more than was necessary unless given freely from their hearts, was considered to be far too frivolous, especially when there were still young dwarflings going hungry at night.
High Priest Hean lead the procession carrying a small box in his ancient hands. His second, Priest Kradmek was carrying a quiver filled with arrows and the three priests that followed him each similarly carried something cupped in their hands, their faces lit with awe and reverence. Carefully, with much ceremony, Hean placed the box directly in front of Thorin. "This came from Mahal's own hand this morning, my king. He has told us this is for your One, who has a great task. This will help him complete the task the Valar have set before him. You are to tell him that it will contain that which needs to be contained. Prince Kili has been given a gift to help with his own task. Our Father has also gifted you and our Princes' a mark of his favor, to show us all that the Ones he has chosen for you have his blessing and that none shall gainsay their admittance into our clan and the Durin Line."
With this announcement, each of the four priests laid the gifts before the Durin men and stepped aside. To the astonishment of all, three of the gifts were marriage beads, but such beads as those Mahal must have made for Durin himself, such was their luster and shine. Few could see the designs on them, but all could see the slight glow that showed these were made by the Great Smith himself. This set a loud muttering from around the hall, it not being what the gathered Khazad had been expecting at all. That all three of the unwed royals would have a One to claim was good news, although it was obvious that Mahal had something very unusual in mind. The Smith did not gift out marriage beads on a whim after all. The last gift, placed before Prince Kili was the quiver, one filled with arrows whose fletching looked black as night, but the sight of it had Kili blanching worse than he had since he had set down at his place this morning.
Thorin slowly stood up and waited for the muttering in the hall to silence. "Mahal gave I and my sister-sons a vision last night, as most of you have expected. The news he gave us is grave indeed, but as you can see, not without great promise as well. This must stay within the clan. No one outside of the Longbeards, including all other Khazad is to learn of this until the task that Mahal has set before us is complete. Many of you have wondered, and scoffed, that a Khazad Prince was drawn to the bow as his primary weapon. Now you learn why this is. Prince Kili has been charged with killing Smaug the Terrible."
Loud shouts and arguments erupted at every table, most remembering that Prince Kili had come of age just this morning, and others yelling that he was far too young to take on such a task. Thorin waited out the wave of sound, letting it die down on it's own. It was obvious that he had more to say, so it did not take long before most of the Khazad were leaning forward to hear the rest of the news. "Mahal has given us the task of reclaiming Erebor at this time. A small group will travel to the Lonely Mountain and help Prince Kili in defeating the beast. On this journey, we three will meet our Ones. As many of you now suspect, not one will be a Dwarrowdam. Mahal has declared that we will make alliances with all of the free peoples of Middle Earth, and our marriages are to be the ties that show our allies that we are serious. My One is a Hobbit, Prince Fili's is a daughter of Men, and Prince Kili's is a she elf of Mirkwood.
"Lest you think that I have been told to forgive THAT ELF, I have not. But as Mahal pointed out to me the actions of one elf, king though he may be, are not the actions of every elf, and I must admit that Thror the Mad most likely made things much worse than they otherwise would have been. I was too young to be included, and most of you here had not been born, when Thror dealt with our allies in Dale and Mirkwood. We do not know what reason the elf may have had for not helping, but Mahal has said that there were reasons, and most of it could be laid at Thror's feet. We all know that our Mad King is to blame for much of what has happened to us over the last one hundred and fifty years. It would not surprise me to learn that Thror did something unforgivable to the Mirkwood elves. I will treat with the Prince, Legolas Greenleaf, and I will accept our Princesses-to-be, both the daughter of Man, and the she elf with open arms, for this is the will of our Father, though I will never forgive the Mirkwood king for turning his back upon our starving and wounded.
"In the coming days I will ask a small group to form a Company to leave at the beginning of spring. There is no shame in not being asked to come along on the quest itself, for much must be done to move our clan back to Erebor, and I will not have our clan stay here a moment longer than necessary. Princess Dis will oversee the caravans that will start out a month behind my Company. Make whatever preparations you can think of over this harvest season and winter. For now, continue with your meals, and pray to the Valar that our quest will be successful." With this Thorin sat down, pulling the box and beads closer to him as his sister looked over his shoulder.