The Hobbit: The Gathering, Chapter 6

[aegistheia]

Title: The Gathering
Author: aegistheia
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General
Word Count: ~760
Warnings: Dark themes, including violence, gore, starvation, and refugee psychology. Also a drunken timeline mash of both the original and the movie events where possible, no thanks to Tolkien himself not knowing/writing down half the secrets of the Dwarves in his mind, and Sir PJ and Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens simplifying it into a giant accounting mess where the years don’t add up and my literary headcanon got flipped ass over teakettle and etc.
Also Archived On: Livejournal; Archive of Our Own.
Summary: Twelve dwarves, one wizard, and one hobbit answer Thorin Oakenshield’s call for companions on the quest for Erebor. This is a story of their marshalling.
Series: Part 1 of The Tales In-Between series.

VI

“I heard you were looking for some comrades-in-arms.”

Thorin looks up with a jolt, half-unsheathing a very large, very hidden dagger in the same movement. “How’d you get in?”

Nori snorts. “I walked in.”

He leans against the doorway with a flourish to show that he is unarmed, then rather regrets his flippant attitude when Thorin scowls suspiciously at him. Antagonizing the key to getting the hell out of here might be unwise, Nori... “Dwalin is currently on guard duty.”

Nori shrugs extravagantly. “Consider this a sample of my skillsets that may be of your service, then.”

Thorin eyes him; his eyebrows are jumping as high as they can go. “Is it wise for you to be telling me about your... skillsets, son of...?”

“Wise enough.” Nori gives him his most guileless smile as he bows. “Nori, son of Olrún, at your service.”

“Son of Olrún.” Thorin’s regard hones to a keen edge. “Any relation to Dori?”

Nori narrows his eyes despite himself. “He is my elder brother.”

“Ah.” Thorin leans back, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes suggesting that he is not quite smiling. “Then I suppose you are the young one he cared for in the early days of our settlement. You’re very good at avoiding Dwalin now, eh?”

Nori flushes, praying that his beard hides the worst of it. He’d been hoping Thorin had forgotten... him as a sparse-haired child running headlong into Dwalin mid-escape – well, mid-attempted-escape – from a squalling Dori had not been the most dignified of initial impressions. At least he hadn’t run into Thorin himself. Then again, he’d run into Dwalin. And he keeps running into Dwalin— “Well, I haven’t had any mishaps with Dwalin today.”

Thorin cracks a grin. “I wouldn’t be so quick to declare that. Dwalin just hasn’t discovered you yet.” He stresses the last word with a definite curl of amusement, before it dissolves and he is composed once more. “You heard correctly. I am looking for able dwarves to accompany me to Erebor, so that we may retake it from the dragon Smaug.”

Erebor is plenty far, and the favour of the King under the Mountain would be an excellent backing for his reputation. “I am willing to come.”

Thorin nods slowly, humming low in his throat. “You can fight?”

Nori thumps his mace on the ground (quietly, so that Dwalin won’t notice). “I can take care of myself.”

Thorin nods again, just as slowly as before. The King must be desperate for questing companions, if he is avoiding questions with potential answers that could put him in a politically uncomfortable position. No matter. Most of Nori’s current problems would be solved just by joining this quest. The protection afforded to the King’s companions should be more than sufficient to discourage even the most persistent of his, ah, pursuers. And if not, well, Nori can take care of himself, after all.

He could die on the quest, of course, but that’s a possibility he’s courted since he’d taken his first socially disagreeable action. If there is one specialty Nori prides himself in practicing, it is self-sufficiency.

With this, he won't have to ever rely on anybody again. Not Dori, not his mother, not anybody.

“All right. As you should have realized from my closed office door, I am currently not available to tell you the itinerary or explain to you the gist of your contract. You’ll have to return,” Thorin checks a scroll briefly, “two days from now, noontime.”

“Just know that I will likely agree, if your terms are reasonable.”

“Then please accept a preliminary welcome to my company, Nori, son of Olrún. I’ll have to have a talk with you – and with Dwalin, just in case—” Nori groans; he’s never going to live it down! “—but be rest assured that if all goes smoothly, a contract will be prepared for you ere the quest begins. You may go.”

Nori bows, then hesitates. “You’re not going to call Dwalin in now?” he says cautiously.

Thorin eyes him for a beat of silence, before that not-smile surfaces again. “Why don’t you treat this as a demonstration of your skillsets? Dwalin cannot afford to lose his touch, as the one responsible for watching my back.”

Nori is well aware that his smile is slightly disbelieving, but mostly delighted. So Thorin Oakenshield isn’t above playing pranks on his closest companions! It is a good trait to have. “Then you must watch closely, Thorin-King!”

Now... how to, ah, walk back out?

V < > VII