A passion for Mushrooms

A Lesson in Jewels

“Still, I must ask.” Bilbo rather thought Dis needn’t ask, actually, especially since the sparkle in her blue eyes told him quite clearly that she was laughing at him again. They might have simply enjoyed a nice afternoon tea, conversing about the weather. Instead she opened with, “If you did spend your days like an elven maiden composing poetry about the eyes of a stubborn, notoriously ugly fool, why would you refuse seven gifts from him?”

With a deep breath, Bilbo calmed himself, closing his eyes against the throbbing in his head. It was a very dwarvish question. Moreover, it was a question he knew bothered Thorin and the others, though none of them had ever asked for an explanation for those first refusals. In a way, he welcomed the blunt inquiry, though he was certainly not going to admit to any poetic tendencies regarding Thorin’s eyes.

“I did not refuse seven gifts from Thorin,” Bilbo said firmly. “I refused six offers of a reward for my services, and I only did that because I rather misunderstood the intent behind the gesture.”

“That much I know. Common gossip would tell that you thought the reward a gift, and refused to accept such from one who nearly murdered you in his madness.”

Shocked, Bilbo could say nothing at all. “That is absurd. None of that was his fault. It was the dragon’s curse, and he overthrew the madness with pure will. Who says such things?”

Dis’s smile was small and bitter. “When a king is publicly refused so many times by one whose loyalty he values, many people say many things.”

“I’m sorry.” Bilbo felt awful. No one had explained it to him that way. Of course, they probably thought him bright enough to draw a simple conclusion. “I didn’t think of it so at the time. But he would keep making it public. I should have been much happier to refuse him privately.”

Dis laughed sharply, but it did not have the same joy of their earlier, shared amusement. “Tell me why.”

Bilbo shrugged uncomfortably. “I thought he meant to offer me a going away present. Something for the road. Don’t let the gates hit my bum on the way out. And I did not want to leave.”

“I see.” Reading her expression was suddenly very difficult. It wasn’t the stone mask that Thorin so often wore as a king, but Bilbo didn’t know her well enough to understand what he was seeing. She looked like someone tasting pickled ginger for the first time trying to decide if they liked it or not.

“I asked Balin to make him stop, but Balin just kept telling me it wasn’t a gift so I should take what was being offered. And I couldn’t talk to Thorin because he was so upset with me, only now I think on it, that was probably just as much about me embarrassing him publicly as it was about the arkenstone and everything.” Bilbo stopped babbling. He wasn’t sure how the conversation had taken such a bad turn, and he certainly didn’t know how to get it back to the point where they were laughing together. His head hurt.

“Do you know, Mister Baggins, I have just realized something important that I believe has entirely escaped the notice of the great minds of Erebor?”

“That I’m a bit of an idiot?” Bilbo asked morosely.

Dis laughed happily. “That you are not a dwarf.”

“I do believe they know that. Your brother for one called me halfling for about half our journey, though I am not half of anything.”

“So then they told you plainly, knowing our ways were not your ways, that dwarves do not, as a rule, give gifts?”

“What?”

“Oh, there are exceptions, of course. Courting gifts, which are given to initiate a romance. Fealty gifts, which a lord or landowner may give to those who serve well. Apprentices receive gifts from their masters. Children receive gifts from their parents. And other family members. I cannot tell you how Thorin spoiled Kili as a child. When we had less than nothing, still Thorin would forego his own food or sleep to craft baubles for my youngest.”