A passion for Mushrooms

A Feast Fit For A Kingdom

The Great Hall of Erebor had been one of the places in the mountain large enough to fit the vast girth of Smaug easily, and so the evil wyrm had not damaged it overmuch. Even so, it was one of the first halls Thorin had ordered restored wholly to its original splendor. He wanted it lined with roaring, happy fires, full of ale and cheer, and as always the King Under the Mountain simply hammered away until he got what he wanted. The repairs to the stone work had been done before Thorin himself was healed enough from his injuries to stand, and they had been done well. The vaulted marble ceiling made the room seem too grand for a hobbit to stop long in, but the smooth, granite tables were actually quite comfortable. It was a hall for feasting, and it pleased Bilbo to no end to see it used as such.

The first great gathering he had seen in that hall had been the Victory Feast: one massive celebration for all those who had survived the Battle of Five Armies. On that day thousands of dwarves crowded around the tables, most wounded, but all in high spirits, rebuilding their strength before going home to the Iron Hills. Around those tables too had been the men and women of Dale, feasting and carousing in joyful fellowship, gladly restoring the old alliance between the city and the mountain. There had even been a small party of elves, including Captain Tauriel, who stayed to show hope of renewing the friendship between Mirkwood and Erebor, though Thorin allowed them in the mountain only that once.

That had been a day of plenty, with an ocean of ale to wash away the memory of hardship and bellies full enough to sink the soldiers back to earth. Since then, there was always something to eat in Thorin’s hall. Through the long winter as dwarven refugees returned home and the trade caravans of men or elves came with supplies—leaving with more gold than such things would have been worth in any other time and place—there was always food on those tables. Thorin did not forget the many years his people had been hungry. If it was often only porridge, only stew with thick grainy bread, only a few fish out of the Long Lake, it was always there and free for the taking. No dwarf in Erebor would ever go hungry while Thorin was king.

Still, as any hobbit knew, there was a big difference between not being hungry and being happily full. Bilbo was quite pleased that one of his last acts in Erebor would be to make it snow food and rain drink on those tables in a way that would be the envy of all Hobbiton if his neighbors had any idea. It was fortunate that he’d planned the meal with that goal in mind, for when he arrived in the hall, he saw that the entire mountain seemed to have turned up in anticipation of the feast.

On a typical evening of no special import there were usually only a hundred dwarves around the tables closest to the king’s seat. Apparently the story of Bilbo’s mushrooms had grown in the telling, for the great hall was nearly half full. It was not so bad as feeding two armies, but Bilbo had not planned for it. Frantically he started doing the math. Dwarves loved meat, and so he had intended for everyone to have a whole chicken. Spring chickens were tender, but small. Now each diner would be lucky to get a quarter of a bird. Of course there was venison to be had, and enough fish for each dwarf to have a good portion in both sauces, but it would not be the same. The stew was plentiful enough. Indeed, between the stew and the potatoes there was more than enough for every person to fill their stomach, but that was not a feast. That was not special enough for his last meal at Thorin’s table.

Bilbo’s panicked calculations were suddenly interrupted by something hard striking his middle and his feet lifting from the marble floor. “Hey!”

The objection was pointless, as Kili continued to spin Bilbo around like a small child on a dance floor. “Best of hobbits! Oh Bilbo, how can I ever thank you?” asked the prince, setting his friend back down and grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank me? You haven’t even tasted the food yet. Anyway, you provided the venison.”

“Yes.” Kili laughed. “And perhaps you think you are being subtle, but Fili told me the whole story. Because of you, Tauriel dines in the mountain tonight. At the head table no less!”