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Chapter 50: Joining
🕑 Added 2025-06-26 16:17:14 +0000 UTC"Alright, alright—put the weapons down! Bombur, Dwalin, forks and spoons are not swords and shields. And Bofur, that flute of yours might charm a bird, but I doubt it'll dent his armor…"
Gandalf moved swiftly around the room, soothing the dwarves like a teacher calming unruly children.
Thorin, however, hadn't so much as flinched.
Ever the calm center of the storm, the dwarven prince simply sat there, his piercing gaze fixed on Eric from the moment he stepped through the door. The scent on him was unmistakable.
Orc blood.
"So this is the powerful companion you mentioned?" Thorin asked, voice low.
"Indeed," Gandalf replied, nodding gravely. "He'll be a great asset to our journey—I vouch for him with my name."
Eric exchanged a quick greeting with Bilbo before turning to Thorin.
"Well met."
Thorin narrowed his eyes, thinking. "We've met before, haven't we?"
"Briefly," Eric said. "In the Blue Mountains, at the forge hall. I came through on my travels."
"Wait a minute," piped up a dwarf from the corner. "Are you that human who stayed at the inn near the southern gate last winter?"
Eric smiled and nodded, offering warm greetings to the gathered dwarves.
Another dwarf suddenly blurted, "Hang on—I heard about a human who out-drank Bregni, the stoutest ale-hound in three valleys!"
"That can't be true!"
"You're telling me this guy out-drank a dwarf? Pull the other one!"
"I'm serious!" said someone else. "Half the tavern was there!"
The room fell into stunned silence.
"I don't buy it," one dwarf muttered. "Not unless he drinks with me."
A chorus of laughter and taunts broke out.
"Alright, that's enough," Gandalf cut in, trying to regain control. "We've more pressing matters at hand."
He turned to Eric, his expression thoughtful.
"You reek of blood. Trouble on the road?"
Eric nodded. "Nothing serious. A few orcs and a pack of wargs decided to get brave."
"They attacked you?" Gandalf raised a brow.
"Beasts like those don't need much reason," grumbled a dwarf.
The dwarves hadn't heard the rumors—at least, not yet. The Anduin Valley was a long way from the Blue Mountains. Word traveled slowly.
But Eric's deeds would eventually ripple across Middle-earth.
"These ones were different," Eric added. "Organized. Better armed. Looked like someone was leading them—someone smart."
"Didn't matter. I wiped them out. Their wargs scattered in every direction, but my horse was faster."
Gandalf nodded, unsurprised by Eric's blunt recounting.
The dwarves, however, exchanged skeptical looks. A few murmured doubts. He might look the part—but surely no one could be that formidable.
Bilbo, on the other hand, was completely lost.
Orcs? Wargs? He didn't understand half of what had been said, but he did understand one thing.
"Ah… so you two do know each other," he muttered, glancing between Gandalf and Eric. "Of course you do."
The moment passed, and Bilbo, ever the polite host, fetched Eric a stool so he could join the crowded table.
Now the table was packed—shoulder to shoulder.
Eric had at least gotten a seat. Bilbo had to stand on tiptoes behind Thorin just to see the map.
"We must seize this opportunity," Thorin declared, pounding the table. "Erebor will be ours again."
"But there's no way in," Balin pointed out sensibly. "Not anymore."
"Ah, my dear Balin," Gandalf said, bending down with a mysterious smile. From the folds of his robe, he drew a key and a weathered map.
"Your father, Thráin, entrusted these to me for safekeeping. And now, they're yours."
Thorin took the key in both hands and clenched it tightly.
"Where there is a key," he murmured, "there must be a door."
"And where there's a door," Gandalf added, "there might be another way in."
The dwarves leaned forward in anticipation.
"But even if we reach the mountain," Gandalf said cautiously, "recovering the Arkenstone will be no simple task. It will require cunning. Silence. Agility."
"We'll need a burglar," someone muttered.
As one, every head turned toward Bilbo.
Bilbo froze.
He had never stolen anything in his life. The very idea was preposterous.
And within seconds, the room erupted into a storm of laughter, objections, and loud disagreement.
"Enough!" Gandalf boomed, rising to his full height, staff clutched tightly. The air shuddered with magical pressure.
Silence fell instantly.
Only Thorin and Eric seemed unaffected.
Thorin, because he was a king-in-exile. Eric, because—well, he thought the dramatic flair was impressive.
"I say Bilbo Baggins is our burglar," Gandalf declared. "And so he shall be."
"Give him the contract."
Bilbo was handed a parchment so long it nearly unrolled across the floor. He squinted at the fine print.
"One-fifteenth… seems fair…"
Thud.
A dwarf jokingly shouted something about "dragon insurance" and "burn damage," and Bilbo promptly fainted.
Later that night, Gandalf found Bilbo on the couch, staring at the ceiling in a daze.
"Bilbo," he said gently, "I can't promise you'll come back. But if you do, nothing will ever be the same again."
Bilbo thought about that. About the wizard's words—and about all the wild stories Eric had told during his last visit.
He shook his head.
"No. I'm not signing."
Outside, the dwarves gathered at the gate.
"That Eric fellow seems reliable," one said. "But that burglar…"
"Nothing's going our way," another muttered. "We're not even warriors—we're smiths and toy-makers…"
Thorin stepped forward and raised his voice.
"You may not be soldiers," he said. "But each of you answered my call. That alone makes you braver than most warriors."
"Loyalty. Courage. That's all we need."
Gandalf, watching quietly from the side, turned to Eric.
"You can fight the dragon, can't you?"
Eric looked sideways at him. "I don't know. I've never seen it. But… if it comes to it, I'll try."
The wizard didn't press further. He turned to Balin.
"Leave a signed copy of the contract here, just in case."
The Next Morning
A lone figure sprinted across Hobbiton, hair unkempt, contract in hand.
Meanwhile, deep in the trees, Eric kept his horse to a slow trot to avoid leaving the others behind. The dwarves' sturdy ponies were reliable—but slow.
"Hey, is that… diamond armor on your horse?" a dwarf finally asked, unable to contain himself.
"It is," Eric replied. "Very tough. Comes in handy during battle."
"Can I touch it?"
"Go ahead."
"By Durin's beard… do you know how long it would take to mine enough to make a full barding like this!?"
Just then, a voice called out:
"Wait for me!"
Bilbo appeared, panting, waving the signed contract.
The company let out a mix of groans and cheers. A few dwarves whistled.
"Welcome to Thorin Oakenshield's Company, Mr. Baggins," someone called out.
Not long after, Bilbo was trotting beside Eric and Gandalf, grinning despite himself.
"They made bets, you know," he whispered. "On whether I'd show up. Most of them thought I wouldn't."
"And what about you?" Eric asked.
Clink.
A small pouch of silver coins flew through the air—caught effortlessly by Gandalf.
"I never had any doubts," the wizard said cheerfully.
Another pouch came flying. Eric caught it one-handed.
"I'm more than happy to include a hobbit named Bilbo in my next tale of adventure," he said with a grin.
"Being part of a story…" Bilbo murmured, smiling as he looked around. "It's a strange feeling, isn't it?"
