Chapter Text
The meaning of the braids – and Bilbo ended up leaving the healing tent with not one or two, but three of them – was even more serious than Bilbo suspected. Balin sputtered in horror at the sight of them, and the rest of the company was quite struck dumb as they quickly figured out where the braids had come from.
"Oh, those idiots," Dwalin said, running a hand over his face. "Did Thorin go mad again?"
"You know, that's exactly what I said," Bilbo answered, fingering the braids uneasily. Thorin's braid was on the right side of his face, Fíli's and Kíli's on the left, and he was acutely aware of how unnatural they looked in his hair. None of them, not even Fíli's, was much like his own hair colour, and the parts where the hair were interwoven were very obvious. "I suppose it looks very silly."
"What in Mahal's name did you say to them?" Balin finally choked out, coming forth to check the braids over with a strange sort of urgency, checking the braiding and the binding. "At least they didn't give you their beads. Which part of their hair did they cut off?"
"The part on the left side of their faces. I think it was that one with all three. Is that bad?" Bilbo asked nervously when Balin groaned at the words. At their urging, Bilbo then explained what happened. "As far as I understood it, this is Thorin's way of objecting to my disclaim of the title King under the Mountain," he added, shifting where he stood. "I suppose in true Oakenshield fashion, he took his gesture too far."
"I don't know. He could've taken it farther and just asked for your hand in marriage there and then," Bofur chortled.
"He bastardized about… a dozen different ceremonies and played none of them right," Balin groaned. "Some of our knights used to present a braid of hair to King Thrór, as a symbol of their devotion and loyalty and intention of serving him above all others. Only a few of them actually did it – it was also considered a vow of, well, a type of chastity. A symbol of their intention to forego creating families while they're in military service."
"I gave some of my hair to King Thrór," Dwalin said, looking at the braids thoughtfully. "It was ceremoniously burned."
Balin nodded. "The hair was never actually braided to Thrór's own hair. Things of that nature are only done in true unions of family. Marriages and adoptions and such. And even then the sum of hair transferred tends to be small. There's a finger's worth of each of their hair here!"
"So they shouldn't have done it?" Bilbo asked uneasily.
"And they cut off an actual braid – a visible braid!" Balin added. "The House of Durin is made of fools!"
"It makes for a very strong and obvious gesture," Dwalin explained gruffly. "To cut off hair where its absence is clearly visible. It's something done in… shame, mostly."
"Shame?" Bilbo asked with dread.
"Hm. You know they've all kept their beards short, of course – well, aside from Kíli who can hardly even grow one yet," Dwalin said thoughtfully. "Now that Erebor is reclaimed, they will let theirs grow again, I imagine. What they did, is similar to that."
"Oh, good grief. Thorin said it was a symbol of his humility, but –"
He stopped when Bofur snorted. "Humility. Thorin Oakenshield, humbled. You really must've riled him up."
Balin harrumphed, leaning back and regarding Bilbo. "Well. They're all fools, but I suppose it makes their intention obvious at any rate. And there might even be some small good in this. If there were any expectations of you and Thorin fighting for power, there won't be now, not with him pledging his allegiance to you so obviously. And he did it oh so very obviously."
"I can't believe them," Glóin muttered. "And after the Hobbit's ludicrous plans too."
"About that, actually," Bilbo said, clearing his throat. "I talked it over with Thorin…"
While seven hundred cubic feet of gold wasn't quite as attractive a sum as two thousand and seven hundred, the idea that it was truly pure and completely free of the dragon's taint did garner some interest. That, and the fact that those seven hundred could be kept safely within the mountain. Granted, of course, that it be kept separate and not put in a big pile.
"The dragon tainted gold probably still needs to be forged again, and the hoard separated into manageable bits, stored away in chests maybe, something of that nature," Bilbo added. "And the floor that was created must be broken up and removed, as quickly as possible, and no one should walk over it. It should lessen the danger of the hoard, to begin with, but it will not be safe before it is completely moved to where it can't influence anyone."
"So you'll just send it off?" Glóin asked suspiciously. "Where?"
"I won't be sending it off," Bilbo shook his head. "I'll be trading it, buying whatever Erebor and the region needs with it. Food and wood and cloth and whatnot. Whatever we need to restore Erebor and Dale. I suppose you could think of it as filtering it into safer forms of wealth."
"Hrmm," Glóin said, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Filtering it. So, what you're saying is that if someone brought gold from elsewhere, and we exchanged it with the dragon tainted gold, that would be safe gold?"
"Well… yes, I suppose it would be, though it sounds very much like needless hassle," Bilbo said thoughtfully. "Having a hoard, any sort of hoard, is not safe. Smaug is a testament to that, after all. So long as it is known that there is such a sum of gold here, it will attract unseemly attention. I would much rather a wealth of fine wine and exotic spices. No one's starting wars over wine and spices."
"You'd be surprised," Balin muttered, but he looked thoughtful. "It's a lot of gold to spend."
"I don't know, I can think of a lot of things to spend it on," Dori commented thoughtfully.
"I can too," Bilbo said. The more he thought about how to restore the area, the more it seemed like there was to be done. "There is a lot that needs fixing in these parts. And the sooner we begin, the better. So what say you?"
"Seven hundred cubic feet, and a home in the Lonely Mountain," Bofur said thoughtfully. "Or two thousand and seven hundred and exile from it. Hmm…"
"And if we all take the exile?" Glóin asked.
Bilbo sighed, looking at them. "You're welcome to do so. It will solve the problem of the tainted gold quite easily too, to have you cart it off. But you do realise that the transportation of the gold will be both perilous and quite time consuming, right? And you'll have to manage it on your own. Such an undertaking will take time, and right now it is time we don't quite have. Not with winter almost here."
"How much does two thousand and seven hundred cubic feet of gold weigh?" Ori asked, a frown on his face. "How much does a single cubic foot of gold weigh?"
"Eighty five stones, give or take," Dori answered, also frowning. "Gold is heavy."
"S-so two thousand and seven hundred cubic feet would weigh over two hundred thousand stones?" Ori asked, looking faint. "How many horses would it take to pull that?"
"Thousands, easily."
Bilbo looked at them as they calculated the sums in their head, figuring out what sort of undertaking it would be, to get the gold out of the mountain. Glóin was looking at him, though. Apparently he'd already done the sums, probably even planned the travel routes.
"Considering how hard it would be to get all of that gold out of here, how do you think you'd manage, getting rid of all of the tainted gold?" Glóin asked.
Bilbo shrugged. "Send out word to any trader selling what we need. Knowing the prices we're able to pay, I imagine they'll come to us. I mean… isn't that why Dale was the greatest trading city in these lands in the first place?"
"Aye, it was. Word is already spreading anyway. People will soon start showing up – some to see, a lot to settle, all of them looking to get their share," Dwalin said gruffly. "If nothing else, there will be a lot of people looking for work. Men and Dwarves both…"
Bilbo shrugged. "All the better for us. There's a lot to be done. But you lot need to decide what you're doing now."
The Dwarves looked at each other, none of them willing to be the first to speak. "I guess, Thorin and the lads are staying, and they're going to take their smaller share of the pure gold," Dwalin said, looking at Bilbo, at the braids.
"That's the impression I got, yes," Bilbo agreed.
"They would have to stay, wouldn't they. It's their home, their kingdom," Bofur said. "Even if it has another King too."
"Don't call me that," Bilbo said with a sigh, folding his arms.
"King Bilbo the First under the Mountain," the miner said, grinning at him.
"And what a king he makes," Glóin muttered thoughtfully, stroking his beard and watching Bilbo. "And if we stay, what will be our part in your kingdom?"
Bilbo blinked. "You're… well, you're the company," he said, looking from one Dwarf to another. "I rather assumed you'd help make the government. To start with, at any rate."
"So, a smaller share and governmental work," Nori said with a snort, reaching for something in his belt. "I'll bow out of your offer, if you don't mind."
Bilbo looked at him sadly. "Well, that's your right, I won't blame you for –" he stopped as Nori brought out a knife and reached for the back of his own head. They all fell silent, watching as Nori came away with a strand of his hair – about a finger thick.
"Nori!" Dori gasped while Ori gaped at his sly brother. "What in Mahal's name are you doing?"
"Pledging my allegiance to my King," Nori said calmly. "Mind if I braid this in, Bilbo?"
"Um," Bilbo said in utter and complete bafflement. Nori didn't wait for his answer and just stepped up to do as he meant. His hair was shorter than the braids the Durins had braided in, but just as thick. It found its home just behind Bilbo's left ear, behind Fíli's and Kíli's braids.
"I'll take some handful of gold, for myself. A dozen cubic feet would be about enough, I think," Nori said as he did the braiding. "The pure stuff, if you don't mind. That, a home somewhere in the mountain, and some work which I will figure out the details of later. I'm not really suited for council work at any rate, so don't count me in for that."
"Nori, you fool!" Dori snapped.
Bilbo stared at Nori in astonishment as the thief bound the braid and stepped back, looking quite pleased with himself. "Well," he said, touching the little braid. And for some reason, the fact that Nori had hidden it in the shadow of Fíli's and Kíli's braids made him wonder about its meaning to the Dwarf that had made it. "Well," he said again and cleared his throat. "Alright then."
The others stared at Nori in a mixture of horror and confusion for a while before Dwalin let out a snort. With Balin staring at him in dismay, he too went to cut off a strand of hair from the back of his head. Bilbo could do nothing but stare at him in wordless wonder as he went to braid it into his hair – behind Bilbo's right ear, in the shadow of Thorin's braid.
"We can figure out the exact sum of gold later," the brusque warrior said as he gently braided the hair in, his fingers far more nimble than Bilbo would've expected them to be.
Bofur, Bombur and Bifur muttered something amidst themselves in Khuzdul before Bifur stepped forward, a length of black and white hair in hand. The three braids went to Bilbo's neck and as Bilbo stood still for them to be braided in, he felt a queer moment of vertigo and had to wonder if he'd fallen asleep and was dreaming the whole thing. He had to be.
"I must look so very weird right now," Bilbo muttered somewhat dizzily, as an angry looking Dori and an eager looking Ori stepped forward too. Apparently, the whole thing was catching, somehow, and now that it had begun it wouldn't stop. Even Balin, looking somehow both white and red at the same time, was holding a knife, waiting for his turn furiously.
"Absolutely ridiculous," Bofur agreed cheerfully, stepping back to admire Bilbo with his strange braids. He grinned. "But you just wait. We'll make a Dwarf of you yet."
Glóin was glaring at them all crossly by the time his elder brother had stepped back, having braided another strand of white beside Balin's elaborate braid. "Well this is a fine ordeal, isn't it," Glóin muttered.
"We're a bunch of fools, all of us," Balin agreed with a rueful sigh. "But I suppose, as gestures go…"
Glóin put his braid just slightly behind Thorin's braid, glaring at Bilbo the whole while. "I'll take my seven hundred cubic feet and not an ounce less, you hear me?"
Bilbo smiled at him. "I hear you. Thank you, Glóin," he said and looked at the others, the weight of the braids strange and foreign and oddly comforting. He must've looked so very ridiculous, with braids of so many different colours and lengths coming from beneath his actual hair. "I can't say I understand any of this, but… thank you, all of you."
Balin just harrumphed. "Well, now that we've made a proper disgrace of ourselves… now what?"
"Now we go back to Erebor. There are things that I need to fetch," Bilbo said, relaxing a little.
"You're going to go get the White Gems of Lasgalen, then? I think I'll refrain from joining you. I want to speak with Thorin," Balin said, shaking his head. "It's too little too late, but perhaps I can still talk some sense into him."
Óin begged off as well, but the rest quickly began getting ready for the venture. With the preparations under way, word of it spread across camp almost instantly. Bilbo was soon besieged by the local lords – Bard, Thranduil, and Dáin all demanding his attention.
Then they all spent a moment gaping at him, at the braids. Dáin sputtered for a moment at him, and then he let out what sounded terrifyingly like a giggle before finally bursting into hysterical laughter. Thranduil made a face at him and then at Bilbo and asked, almost delicately, "Dwarf hair, I imagine? Does it not smell something awful?"
Bilbo just glared at him.
Bard looked between the Dwarf lord, now bent over and gasping, and Thranduil, whose nose was all but scrunched in disgust. "I…" he said and then shook his head, clearing his throat. "So you and your company have come to an agreement, then? Over the whole… Arkenstone business?"
"Something like that," Bilbo said almost gratefully, turning his attention to the Man who, obviously, was the only other sensible person in all of Dale. "For now, I suppose I'll be… acting for us," he said, with a swallow.
"As the King under the Mountain," Thranduil said, still eyeing the braids.
Bilbo just sighed at that. "Lord Dáin?" he asked almost plaintively.
"Yes, Halfling?" the Dwarf lord wheezed.
"Are you alright?"
"Never better," Dáin gasped and straightened. "Oh, I needed that," he said, patting at his belly through his armour. "Has your whole company eaten some funny mushrooms or something? Because if so, I am deeply offended that they did not share. That Thorin's hair I see at your right ear, then?"
"Yes, my lord Dáin, it was the first one they put in," Bilbo agreed with a sigh. "And there were no funny mushrooms involved, aside from whatever the Elves fed Thorin. Otherwise, I assure you, I'd have partaken in them myself and then shared them around liberally."
The Dwarf lord chortled, stepping forward to examine the braids with a strange mixture of joviality and deadly seriousness. He touched Thorin's braid first, checking the binding. "The lads' braids?" he asked, and then examined Fíli's and Kíli's braids, before looking at the rest as Bilbo named them one by one.
"Balin and Glóin too, hmm," Dáin said, while Thranduil sighed in exasperation and Bard merely looked on in confusion. "Well, this is a new day. And may all hail the King under the Mountain, as he comes at last to his own. May songs be sang and drinks be drank and joy spread all across the lands. We'll have a great party tonight! Yes, indeed!"
"No we will not," Bilbo disagreed exasperatedly. "Be sensible, lord Dáin, there is nowhere near enough food or drink to go around for any sort of party."
"Nonsense," the Dwarf lord said as he stepped back. "I brought enough wine for all of my warriors to drink to the crowning of the King under the Mountain. I will not have that go to waste."
"While this is all very… charming," Thranduil said with some annoyance. "It can very well wait. We heard that you and your company were intending to return to Erebor," he aimed the words at Bilbo. "Is there any truth to this?"
"Only to visit, to retrieve what might be useful around Dale," Bilbo answered, turning to the Elf. "And what we need to ease tensions here."
Bard straightened a bit at that. "What might be useful?" he said. "You're intending to bring something out, then?" Bard asked, putting special weight on something.
"Coal, mainly," Bilbo shrugged. "There's a quantity of it in the mountain, enough to be shared with the Men of Dale, who I know will need it. And we'll bring whatever other things might be useful around Dale. There might be some clothing and whatnot, I do not know for sure. I'll know once I'll see the stores up close. I was hoping that you might lend us some carts if you have any you can spare."
"I think we can lend you a couple for such a purpose," Bard said, nodding thoughtfully.
"And what of my desire?" Thranduil asked with cool curiosity.
"What do you think I'm going to retrieve in the first place?" Bilbo asked, looking up at him and at Bard. "I have Thorin's backing, now, so we'll be doing some dealing, I suppose. I'll start with honouring previous arrangements as much as I can."
"Hm. So I see," Thranduil said, eyeing the braids resting against Bilbo's chest. "Well then, O King under the Mountain. If you intend to do any bartering with my kin, know that precious gems will have much better value than dragon tainted gold."
Bilbo considered that and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, making a mental note to fetch some. Mirkwood would probably be their main source of food until trade routes could be properly established, so bartering with them would be unavoidable.
Bard looked between Bilbo and the Elven king thoughtfully. "I'll take the coal and the cloth if there are any. And if there is any oil to be had in Erebor, that would be welcome as well," he said slowly. "However… the gold…"
Bilbo arched his eyebrows. "You want it now?" he asked.
"We're hoping to send some men to nearby towns and villages, to secure food for the winter while it's still possible to travel," Bard explained. "Among other things."
"Alright," Bilbo said with a nod and then looked at the three lords around him. "Lord Dáin, would you like to join us at the mountain?" he asked.
"I'd be damn well delighted," the Dwarf lord said with a nod.
Dáin joined Bilbo and together they waited for Bard to deliver the carts and for the company to make ready. Dáin's warriors joined the work eagerly at their lord's command. They quickly began clearing the way, both out of the city and at the gates of the mountain, where the way in was quickly being evened out and made ready for the carts.
"Are all of your warriors only that, warriors?" Bilbo asked thoughtfully, watching them work in the distance.
"How do you mean?" Dáin asked, glancing at him.
"Do they have other occupations? Most of the company are able warriors, but they are other things besides. Miners, tinkers, smiths, and whatnot," Bilbo said. "I was wondering if such skills could be found among your army."
The Dwarf lord eyed him curiously for a moment and then nodded. "They all have some small skill at blacksmithing," he said. "And most know their way around a mine. That there is Baraz – when he's not swinging an axe around, he manages and fixes the forges of the Iron Hills. And there's Gabi – he's one of the better stoner workers we have, makes very fine statues too. And there's Gor as we call him – he makes the best ale in all of the Iron Hills."
Bilbo nodded along as Dáin pointed out some of his warriors, naming their skills.
"What have you in mind, then, Lord Bilbo?" Dáin asked shrewdly.
"I have in mind the broken houses of Dale," Bilbo admitted, shifting uneasily at the title. "And the thought that Dwarven hands and Ereborean stone might do much for them has occurred also." He turned to look at Dáin. "How long do you and your warriors intend to stay in these parts?"
"The idea was to see Thorin crowned and settled, waiting perhaps until his people from the Blue Mountains reached the Lonely Mountain. That would take some months as they will be travelling in a large company, and slowly," Dáin said, stroking his beard. "So a year at the very least, with some rotation between the Lonely Mountain and the Iron Hills, of course. You mean to put my warriors to work?"
"I was wondering if we might hire them," Bilbo answered, leaning back. "If there are those among them with useful skills that would not mind taking Erebor's gold."
"To fix the city of Men," Dáin stated, looking at him closely. "Rather than the city of Dwarves."
"There are more Men here, than there are Dwarves. Dale will be well settled before any sort of true settlement of Erebor will even begin," Bilbo shrugged. "As it is, I am not quite sure how safe it is to move to the mountain just yet. It's still very shaken up after the dragon and the tunnels aren't as secure as they were. Restoration must be done before settlement, and before that can begin, well. The workers must live somewhere."
"So, Dale ought to be restored first, at least to some extent," Dáin nodded thoughtfully and looked at the city of Men. He smiled at it. "And to think the Men don't think you will honour Thorin's word at all."
Bilbo frowned at that, looking down at his bare feet. Dáin laughed at him, clapping a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "The unfortunate thing is, Thorin hasn't endeared himself to anyone in these parts," he said. "So the Men think that at best you will cart out a bunch of gold – a fine thing, to be sure, but not likely to be of any immediate help. But in the meanwhile, you do not only plan to aid them in the fixing of their city but… you already have plans to start, don't you?"
Bilbo shrugged. "I've been led to believe that I own these lands now," he said ruefully. "That includes Dale, in a manner of speaking. What sort of landlord would I be, letting my holdings fall to ruin?"
Dáin laughed uproariously at that, shaking Bilbo by the shoulder. "I like you, Halfling! We must drink together some time!" It was, probably, meant to be companionable, as rough as it was. Bilbo bore it with a smile. There were worse things than having the amused approval of a Dwarven lord.
The expedition back to Erebor was ready not much after that. While Dáin's warriors pushed and pulled the carts of Men towards the mountain, Bilbo took a moment to visit Thorin and the princes, to explain what they'd be about.
"You already have my approval," Thorin said, waving a hand at him. "So long as you don't bleed the mountain dry and the pure gold stays in Dwarven hands…"
"Are you planning to bring any gold out?" Fíli asked
"I'm going to give the Men some of the dragon tainted gold. They intend to send a party to trade with nearby towns and need the funds," Bilbo answered. "And I've been talking with Lord Dáin about hiring some of his warriors as builders, but we've only talked it over, and not yet spoken of any sort of contracts. I was hoping to talk it over with him, Balin, and Glóin in more detail."
"Well, you seem to have things well in hand," Thorin said, relaxing on his bed and closing his eyes. "You don't need to report to me, Bilbo."
"I felt like I ought to share my plans with the rest of the company, so that no one is left in the dark. Also," Bilbo turned towards Kíli's bed. "Tauriel? I understand if you'd rather decline, but would you like to join us at the expedition?"
She blinked at him as Thorin and Kíli both startled at the words. "Me? Enter Erebor?" she asked and gave Bilbo a confused smile. "Whatever for?"
"It's going to be your home too, isn't it?" Bilbo asked, glancing at Kíli and then at Thorin who let out a sharp sigh. Thorin would not meet his eyes, though, so Bilbo turned back to Tauriel. "Also, I'd like an Elf's advice, as to how to deal with the issue of the White Gems." Among many other things, he added silently to himself.
Tauriel smiled somewhat bemusedly at Bilbo and opened her mouth to obviously decline, but Kíli reached out to touch her arm.
"Go," he said, smiling at her. "I would like for you to see Erebor, and hear what you think of it."
"A mountain is not a place for an Elf," she said quietly. "We are not things of Earth like Dwarves are."
"I know," he said. "Please, Tauriel."
She hesitated and then sighed, reaching to press a kiss on Kíli's forehead. Then she stood, letting her hand slip from his. "Very well," she said, checking her weapons and grabbing her bow from the side of Kíli's bed. "Let's go then."
Bilbo nodded and looked at the Durins. "If there's anything you want from the mountain, now's the moment to speak."
"The crown of Erebor," Thorin said, not looking at him. "I… left it in the hall of the kings, where the golden floor was formed. Could you bring it to me?"
Bilbo hesitated and then nodded. "Alright," he said. "Anything else? Kíli, Fíli?"
"I'd like nothing but my lady's opinion of what might or might not be our home," Kíli said, grinning at Tauriel who gave him a look of fond exasperation.
"Could you bring me my fiddle?" Fíli asked hopefully. "I left it with our packs at the armoury, where we… prepared for battle. It should still be there."
"Your fiddle?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "I thought that was lost in Mirkwood?"
"It was. I found another at Lake Town," the blond Dwarf grinned. "Didn't get the chance to even tune it yet. I'm bored very nearly to death on this bed, and it would be something to do. So, if it's not any trouble…"
Bilbo looked at him for a moment and then smiled back. "Your fiddle then," he said and looked at Tauriel. "Shall we?"
"Lead the way," she nodded, and together they left the tent to join the expedition. Dáin met them at the road leading from Dale to Erebor, and with some awkward ceremony Bilbo was pushed by the company to the head of the expedition. There, Bilbo resigned himself to his fate.
And so, with the Arkenstone glowing brightly enough to show through his clothing, he began making his way back to the Lonely Mountain.