A passion for Mushrooms

The Qualities of Courtship

Leaving the wheelbarrow at the door, Bilbo stumbled along the green granite path that divided his mushrooms neatly. He carried the heavy gold medallion Thorin had crafted for him in both hands, and he had his frying pan tucked into one arm. It was utterly foolish to cling to them so. Obviously they had not been courting gifts. They were just three mathoms and a thank-you present for a decent cook, which he had always known. He had always known that a great, noble king could not fall in love with a Baggins. Somehow, this foreknowledge failed to keep him from crying.

Dropping down to sit among his mushrooms, Bilbo plucked a few within reach and munched on them to console his broken heart. Draping the gemstone laden chain about his neck again was foolish. The enormous pendant had not been a courting gift. Indeed, even if Tauriel had not been joking and a dwarf might give something other than a ring as such, Bilbo could not see any circumstance in which one might classify such massive piece of jewelry as romantic. It was not beautiful like his crown nor wonderfully useful like his frying pan. It was, however, the gift of Thorin’s hand. As such, Bilbo loved it almost as much as either of those presents. The chain was just long enough that Bilbo could wear it while leaving the heavy medallion flat on the floor to study. For the first time he noticed how fiercely happy the little mail-clad hobbit made of gold looked, standing in front of Erebor with a triumphant sword and a hopeful acorn. The golden Bilbo had found a place where he belonged.

As had the real hobbit. Much as he wanted Thorin’s love, he did not need it to be happy in Erebor. Such gifts as the king had given him were sufficient, and far more than he deserved. Thorin gave him time, friendship, and breakfast every day. Beyond that, he had mushrooms a plenty. Enough to sit snacking on fresh Black Trilbies as though they were baby carrots that wanted thinning. Bilbo laughed at himself and cleaned his face with a nice handkerchief. All would be well. Maybe the dwarves would not even tease him very much, since it was not their way to speak of love where it was unrequited.

As if thinking of his friends was enough to summon them, Bilbo heard the quiet shift of the stone doors to his mine opening. Looking over his shoulder revealed Thorin in the entryway. Bilbo lept to his feet, or tried to. The heavy pendant did not lift from the ground, and the thick chain was still wrapped around Bilbo’s neck. As he bounced up, it tethered him to the ground and he lost his balance, banging his face badly on the floor. Immediately Thorin was there, taking the medallion in one hand and lifting it easily as he helped Bilbo to his feet with the other.

“Thank you.” When he was standing steadily, Bilbo took the medallion in both of his hands, but Thorin did not let go. “I should like to be alone just now,” Bilbo added pointedly.

Thorin’s mouth opened and closed, but he did not turn to leave.

“I’m fine,” Bilbo said, rubbing his stinging jaw against his shoulder. “Really. I can take a joke as well as anyone. I hope you did not actually banish Tauriel for the trick.”

At that the king seemed to find his voice. “I have made amends to Tauriel for my words. It is my hope that you will allow me to make amends to you as well. For I have misunderstood you just as badly as ever I did her, and in doing so caused you great pain.”

“Oh no,” Bilbo said. “I’m quite well.”

“You love me.”

All the air seemed to leave the little mine. Bilbo could neither breathe nor speak and he felt desperately dizzy. Finally, he managed to say, “I thought dwarves could not speak of love until a courting gift was accepted.”

“And you did not believe you had received one until Tauriel told you otherwise.”

“Do you mean to say she was telling the truth?” Bilbo could not allow himself to hope again. That would simply be stupid after everything else that had happened. Yet that buzzing honeybee was back in his chest.