cowt 2022 - week 1

[sea_sidhe]

missione 1, prompt: passato

“I think you would have liked it,” Thorin whispers one of those endless nights when they just talk and talk and talk. “Erebor, I mean.”

“You think so?” Bilbo asks quietly, because Erebor is not something Thorin often talks about and the last thing he wants is to somehow end up making Thorin sad.

“I do. I know you hobbits enjoy your open spaces and these hills that all look the same,” Thorin ignores Bilbo’s scoffs, squeezing his hand lightly. “But I imagine you would. You’re weird enough, as a hobbit, to like a kingdom like Erebor.”

“Well, I’m weird enough to like grumpy dwarrows with absolutely no sense of direction whatsoever, Erebor sounds definitely easier to like.”

When Thorin bursts out laughing, Bilbo thinks, as he always does, that he would do anything to hear that sound again and again and again.

“Tell me about it. If you want.”

“About Erebor?” Thorin remains silent enough for Bilbo to think he’s overstepped, and then sighs lowly. “It’s hard to talk about it, but in my heart, there was never again a place I could call home after Erebor.”

Much to Bilbo’s surprise, Thorin talks and talks and talks. Thorin talks and paints a picture in Bilbo’s mind, a picture that could be out of one of his precious books, so clear and vivid Bilbo almost feels like he did see that, if not Erebor itself.

Thorin talks about infinite halls and carved stone, intricate statues filled with details from the capable hands of sculptors, complex architectures, and systems Bilbo has never heard of before.

Thorin talks about endless mines and endless riches, talks about every single dwarf having more than enough to survive, more than enough to live a good life, and he does so with such sorrow in his eyes that, to Bilbo, speaks volumes about the hardships Thorin and his family have gone through.

He talks about the time he spent tuning his craft in the forges of the mountain, and he does so with pride in his voice, something Bilbo imagines Thorin hardly feels anymore, wandering around under the suspicious eyes of men, hobbits, and elves.

Thorin talks about markets filled with clever inventions and pieces of art, well crafted toys and weapons, utensils for everyday use, jewels and gems and earrings and rings - and he does so with awe in his voice, with the words only an artisan could use.

He talks about the wonders of Dale, of its toy market and its bells, and even about the surroundings of the Lonely Mountain, where he used to go hunting so many years before.

When it all becomes too much, Bilbo takes his hand and squeezes it gently.

“I think, and don’t let this go to your big head, you’re right. I think I would’ve liked Erebor.”

There’s sorrow behind Thorin’s smile, and Bilbo spends the rest of the night doing his very best to take his mind off the home he so clearly misses.

They talk about Bilbo’s past, too, even though he doesn’t have anything as wondrous to recant as Thorin’s tales of gold, craft, and mines.

Bilbo is always glad to talk about his life in the Shire, of his many cousins and relatives and the gossip surrounding them all, and whatever is going on in other parts of the Shire, wherever his letter might reach.

But Thorin, Thorin wants to know about his past, too, and he has shared far too much for Bilbo to feel comfortable without doing the same.

He dodges the topic as much as he can, but it comes the day when he finds himself talking about everything he can remember about his parents, about his childhood.

And it isn’t an unhappy topic per se, it really isn’t.

He recalls many of the loveliest moments in his childhood, describes everything he and his mother used to do - running off to adventures and spending their days outside exploring wherever they wanted, or so it felt like to the faulting he was.

He talks about the time spent reading with his father, about the fact that Bungo used to read for him, first, and that at some point Bilbo started reading out loud for the both of them and that tradition never really stopped.

(Thorin laughs and laughs when Bilbo recounts one of his parents’ favorite family stories, about how he stole the book Bungo was reading to him to finish it on his own, because his father was too slow and he wanted to know what was going to happen.)

He talks about the fact that Bungo built their smial with his own hands as a wedding gift to Belladonna, and how Bilbo was raised with stories about the long-lasting courtship between his parents and the many, many, many times his father tried to woo her.

“Oh, my mother absolutely adored my father. It just took her a little bit of time to realize she loved him,” Bilbo laughs one time, when Thorin asks about why and how two hobbits so different actually ended up together.

“Bu you said...”

“She was... you could say a bit strange, like me. Not as strange as a Took, mind you, but still strange. Definitely wilder than your regular hobbit. Adventurous. My father was a proper hobbit through and through. He used to say he was too boring for her.”

“Your mother sounds amazing,” Thorin smiles gently, maybe sensing this is a delicate topic for Bilbo. “But I highly doubt someone capable of building a whole smial with his own hands could have been described as boring.”

Bilbo hums, noise twitching, and his eyes never leave Thorin. “I always thought so, too.”

Thorin lets him talk about whatever he feels like talking, accept every single story, silly or important, with the same eagerness and awe in his eyes.

Bilbo often wonders if this is how his parents must have felt like.