mithril

XXI.

— XXI —

Erebor is quiet as I glance back at the Mountain. It's early in the morning, for the sun has not yet risen over the Eastern horizon yet. Bilbo sits at my side on the rough stone of the outlook. He's obviously deep in thought as we take in the great Dwarven kingdom in a comfortable silence.

The weeks after the war have brought a great change to the Mountain and the lands surrounding it. Dwarves from all over the wide lands of Middle Earth have been flocking in droves to the newly restored kingdom. As I saw in the days after I awoke, the newly-arrived Dwarves are putting their skills to work. They work day and night to restore both the interior and exterior of Erebor. There are stonemasons and metalworkers, sculptors and artisans of every nature. All working under the skilled architects of Thorin's choosing to reinvent the ancient kingdom. Making it greater than ever before. Stronger. And most importantly, they work to make it a home.

My eyes track away from the Mountain, finding Dale. The Dwarves have been at work there, too. The buildings are already coming together in a finery that mimics the way they once were. It's another gift from Thorin. One that Bard wants to repay with the gold Thorin gave him, but the Dwarven king refuses. He told Bard it was, as quoted, 'a sign of good faith between their two races and a symbol of the relationship that will once again flourish.'

I sigh, leaning forward as I watch the sky lightening. I'm not quite ready to leave this place yet, but I'm preparing for it. This cold morning is simply the breath before the new adventure ( for, as Bilbo insists, "I live under the ground but not underground! I need fresh air, some green grass!" ). I often followed Bilbo to this very place, sitting in the long, comfortable silences with my friend as we simply bathed in the peace of a warless future. Today, our time on the overlook will be shorter. The coronation is in a few hours' time, and we are both expected to attend.

Erebor is already my home. That much is entirely clear to me in the ache of my heart as I think of leaving it. The Dwarves, and their culture, are pure and alluring, drawing me in with each day that passes. The Lonely Mountain, Erebor, and its King are my future. There's no doubt about that. But for Bilbo?

The Hobbit will be leaving here soon. My oath is not quite fulfilled. I would not sit idle as he leaves without my sword at his side to protect him. Bilbo will leave, and I will go with him.

Right now, I'm trying to work out the best way to tell Thorin that my path will turn West in a great loop before I can rest peacefully at his side. I watch the Hobbit take a long draw from his pipe. The pale smoke escapes his lips in easy rings. I hold my tongue for a moment longer before the words burst from my mouth.

"I think I'm going to bring Tilda," I announce. Bilbo turns at my sudden outburst. His eyes raise in surprise.

"Bard's daughter?"

"Yes. She has a strong will. I see myself in her. I think it will be good for her to enter the Wild, but I must convince Bard of the same fact. I would take Sigrid, but I think she loves Dale and its people too much already. A good thing, of course. They are her subjects now and she will watch over them well."

"Do you really think Bard will allow you to take his youngest on a perilous mission across the Wild, with who-knows-what kind of dangers? There still might be Orcs abroad."

"I protected you, didn't I?"

"Well, first I almost fell off a mountain...then you lost track of me in Goblin Town...then–"

I wave my hand at him, grinning sheepishly.

"Alright, alright. I get it. So, maybe I'm a lousy hired-sword. But I wasn't much older than her when Elladan first dragged me into the Wild chasing Orcs and Wargs. She'll surprise you, I promise."