Warrior Son, Part 5
Mar. 16th, 2015 06:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morgynleriWarrior Son
Part 5
Word Count: 1589 (5973)
"You've been no help." Bilbo give Boromir an acid look as he finally corners him near the back door of the smial, the dwarves still loudly making merry over the remains of Bilbo's pantry. There's some left aside, with Thorin still yet to arrive, but there will be nothing for breakfast, save a few scones and a bit of moldy cheese. "I thought you were enjoying some quiet."
Boromir is quiet a moment, watching the hall, and meeting Gandalf's gaze as the wizard ducks out of the dining room. "Quiet does not last, Bilbo. Even in the Shire, where it lasts longer than in most of the world, it cannot last forever. Better that I seek out a new journey than to bring trouble to where I am at, and to people who deserve it not at all."
"Is that why you didn't bother to help keep them from raiding my pantry and worse?"
Gandalf is close enough now to hear anything Boromir might say over the noise of the dwarves.
"I am one Man among twelve dwarves and a wizard, Bilbo. I choose my battles, and this is one I could not win. I can leave some coin to help restock your pantry in the morning, but I cannot stay long." His packing will not take a terribly great amount of time, but it will be long enough Boromir doesn't dare remain once he has the opportunity to offer his aid on the quest.
"And where will you be going from here, Boromir of Gondor?" Gandalf asks the question, his gaze sharp as he looks over Boromir - seeing something more than the others, perhaps, but what is it he sees?
"Wherever the road takes me, Mithrandir. East, if I might." Boromir shrugs, meeting Gandalf's gaze steadily, though he doesn't expand on why he will go with Thorin if he's allowed.
"Hmm." Gandalf frowns, watching Boromir for a moment longer, but he doesn't voice whatever thoughts are in his head.
"Well, I should hope you don't aid in ruining someone else's home after pretending to be a civilized person." Bilbo grimaces, and glares at Gandalf. "As for you, what are these dwarves doing in my home? I'm sure it has something to do with your threatening me with an adventure, and I would like to know just what is going on!"
"Excuse me." One of the dwarves - Ori, if Boromir is remembering the introductions of the lot who'd all arrived at once properly - comes out of the dining room, approaching them carefully. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"
"At least one of them is polite." Bilbo gives Gandalf and Boromir pointed looks before turning to Ori and opening his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by Fíli.
"Here you go, Ori, give it to me." He snags it from Ori deftly before flinging it down the hall to where Kíli is now standing outside the one wash room.
Boromir takes a half-step backward to stay out of the way, listening and watching as Bilbo starts scolding again, and the dwarves ignore him in favor of tossing around dishes and singing a raucous song. It's barely ended before there's a pounding on the door that draws everyone's attention to the front door.
Drawing in a quiet breath, Boromir ducks through doorways to follow the rest to the front, keeping to one side where he's not likely to be noticed right off, and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
Gandalf is the one to open the door, rather than Bilbo, who is pressed into one side of the way into the parlor, revealing a dwarf who is taller than most, with dark hair streaked with gray. Boromir holds himself very still, the sense of being in the presence of a King greater than it had been when he'd met Aragorn in Rivendell. Unspoken, but very much there in a way that had not yet been present in Isildur's heir. A King who knew his worth, one raised with the knowledge and expectation of leadership, and though uncrowned, still was more a leader of a people than Aragorn yet had been.
"Gandalf." Thorin had not yet taken his gaze from the wizard holding the door, and does not as he takes the first steps inside. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice." He glances at the dwarves crowded into the parlor door before reaching to undo the clasp of his cloak. "I would not have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door."
A way indeed for the dwarves to find Bag End, and to tell them more than what either Bilbo or Boromir could know.
"One that had not been on my door yesterday, Gandalf." Bilbo pushes from between the dwarves. "Who is this?"
"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf smiles, closing the door, and putting his back to it, "allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." He glances at Boromir, and adds, "Boromir of Gondor, I believe you might already have heard of Thorin."
"I have." Boromir bows, as he had not even in introducing himself to the others. "I did not expect ever to meet him." Dwarves have Aüle's halls, after all, and even in death Boromir would not have met Thorin, no matter how greatly he might have wished it be so.
Thorin frowns slightly, though the expression is more thoughtful than upset, tilting his head to Boromir before he turns his attention to Bilbo, walking around him as he speaks. "Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"
"Pardon me?" Bilbo turns to keep Thorin in his sight, and Boromir shifts slightly, letting his arms fall to his sides.
"Ax or sword, what's your weapon of choice?"
"I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevent."
Thorin's crossed arms and disdainful look are enough for Boromir to snort, drawing attention to him before more words spill from the dwarven King's mouth.
"I have traveled with hobbits, and I would not dismiss their skills merely because they do not chose to defend themselves with blades or arrows." Boromir meets Thorin's gaze readily. "Nor are they slow to learn what they believe they must to keep themselves safe, should they take to the road."
"He still looks more a grocer than a burgler." Thorin smiles, an edge of mockery in his voice, before he turns away, following the others back to the dining room where food is laid out for him.
Boromir doesn't try to regain the seat he had earlier, choosing instead to remain by the door, listening as Balin brings up a meeting of dwarves, the news from which is poor, if not unexpected to Boromir. He does not anticipate the cold feeling in his chest at the idea that Thorin's own cousin would not support him, that other dwarves, save for those gathered in the small dining room, would turn him away when he needed them most. Was that what had left Thorin ill-defended at the end, to fall beneath the crushing blow of an orc?
"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo's voice breaks into Boromir's thoughts, and he returns his attention to the room as Gandalf calls for more light, and brings out a map that shows the mountain they will be traveling to. Portents are mentioned, as is the dragon, spoken aloud at last, though Boromir can see how that shakes Bilbo.
The conversation from there becomes louder and changes to argument until Thorin silences them with a single roared word in a language Boromir does not understand, though he is certain of which it is.
"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" He turns slightly, side-eyeing Boromir. "Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years."
The dragon had been long dead before Boromir ever heard tales of Erebor and those who retook the mountain from Smaug, but he has not told even Bilbo of the truth of his past. He is not yet ready to tell anyone else, and less so with Gandalf so close, whose fall - and assured death - he had seen himself.
"Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing. Wondering. Weighing the risk."
What risk is there to Boromir, when he has already died, felled by orcs while he defended those he called friend? What more can be done to him by a dragon, or an army of orcs, that has not already been done?
"Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we stand back, while others claim what is rightfully ours?"
Elves, men, and orcs alike will want to take the treasure, and they will not care that they are plundering a kingdom, a home, of a people who are more heroes than most will know. Greedy, Boromir knows dwarves have been called, even by his own people, but he did not remember greed in the tales he heard of Thorin as a child.
"Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?"
This is the hero, the King, that Boromir had looked for in Aragorn, the King who would stir even the hearts of those not his kin to fight for him, to fight for his people. A King Boromir can follow without hesitation or regret.
Part 5
Word Count: 1589 (5973)
"You've been no help." Bilbo give Boromir an acid look as he finally corners him near the back door of the smial, the dwarves still loudly making merry over the remains of Bilbo's pantry. There's some left aside, with Thorin still yet to arrive, but there will be nothing for breakfast, save a few scones and a bit of moldy cheese. "I thought you were enjoying some quiet."
Boromir is quiet a moment, watching the hall, and meeting Gandalf's gaze as the wizard ducks out of the dining room. "Quiet does not last, Bilbo. Even in the Shire, where it lasts longer than in most of the world, it cannot last forever. Better that I seek out a new journey than to bring trouble to where I am at, and to people who deserve it not at all."
"Is that why you didn't bother to help keep them from raiding my pantry and worse?"
Gandalf is close enough now to hear anything Boromir might say over the noise of the dwarves.
"I am one Man among twelve dwarves and a wizard, Bilbo. I choose my battles, and this is one I could not win. I can leave some coin to help restock your pantry in the morning, but I cannot stay long." His packing will not take a terribly great amount of time, but it will be long enough Boromir doesn't dare remain once he has the opportunity to offer his aid on the quest.
"And where will you be going from here, Boromir of Gondor?" Gandalf asks the question, his gaze sharp as he looks over Boromir - seeing something more than the others, perhaps, but what is it he sees?
"Wherever the road takes me, Mithrandir. East, if I might." Boromir shrugs, meeting Gandalf's gaze steadily, though he doesn't expand on why he will go with Thorin if he's allowed.
"Hmm." Gandalf frowns, watching Boromir for a moment longer, but he doesn't voice whatever thoughts are in his head.
"Well, I should hope you don't aid in ruining someone else's home after pretending to be a civilized person." Bilbo grimaces, and glares at Gandalf. "As for you, what are these dwarves doing in my home? I'm sure it has something to do with your threatening me with an adventure, and I would like to know just what is going on!"
"Excuse me." One of the dwarves - Ori, if Boromir is remembering the introductions of the lot who'd all arrived at once properly - comes out of the dining room, approaching them carefully. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"
"At least one of them is polite." Bilbo gives Gandalf and Boromir pointed looks before turning to Ori and opening his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by Fíli.
"Here you go, Ori, give it to me." He snags it from Ori deftly before flinging it down the hall to where Kíli is now standing outside the one wash room.
Boromir takes a half-step backward to stay out of the way, listening and watching as Bilbo starts scolding again, and the dwarves ignore him in favor of tossing around dishes and singing a raucous song. It's barely ended before there's a pounding on the door that draws everyone's attention to the front door.
Drawing in a quiet breath, Boromir ducks through doorways to follow the rest to the front, keeping to one side where he's not likely to be noticed right off, and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
Gandalf is the one to open the door, rather than Bilbo, who is pressed into one side of the way into the parlor, revealing a dwarf who is taller than most, with dark hair streaked with gray. Boromir holds himself very still, the sense of being in the presence of a King greater than it had been when he'd met Aragorn in Rivendell. Unspoken, but very much there in a way that had not yet been present in Isildur's heir. A King who knew his worth, one raised with the knowledge and expectation of leadership, and though uncrowned, still was more a leader of a people than Aragorn yet had been.
"Gandalf." Thorin had not yet taken his gaze from the wizard holding the door, and does not as he takes the first steps inside. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice." He glances at the dwarves crowded into the parlor door before reaching to undo the clasp of his cloak. "I would not have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door."
A way indeed for the dwarves to find Bag End, and to tell them more than what either Bilbo or Boromir could know.
"One that had not been on my door yesterday, Gandalf." Bilbo pushes from between the dwarves. "Who is this?"
"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf smiles, closing the door, and putting his back to it, "allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." He glances at Boromir, and adds, "Boromir of Gondor, I believe you might already have heard of Thorin."
"I have." Boromir bows, as he had not even in introducing himself to the others. "I did not expect ever to meet him." Dwarves have Aüle's halls, after all, and even in death Boromir would not have met Thorin, no matter how greatly he might have wished it be so.
Thorin frowns slightly, though the expression is more thoughtful than upset, tilting his head to Boromir before he turns his attention to Bilbo, walking around him as he speaks. "Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"
"Pardon me?" Bilbo turns to keep Thorin in his sight, and Boromir shifts slightly, letting his arms fall to his sides.
"Ax or sword, what's your weapon of choice?"
"I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevent."
Thorin's crossed arms and disdainful look are enough for Boromir to snort, drawing attention to him before more words spill from the dwarven King's mouth.
"I have traveled with hobbits, and I would not dismiss their skills merely because they do not chose to defend themselves with blades or arrows." Boromir meets Thorin's gaze readily. "Nor are they slow to learn what they believe they must to keep themselves safe, should they take to the road."
"He still looks more a grocer than a burgler." Thorin smiles, an edge of mockery in his voice, before he turns away, following the others back to the dining room where food is laid out for him.
Boromir doesn't try to regain the seat he had earlier, choosing instead to remain by the door, listening as Balin brings up a meeting of dwarves, the news from which is poor, if not unexpected to Boromir. He does not anticipate the cold feeling in his chest at the idea that Thorin's own cousin would not support him, that other dwarves, save for those gathered in the small dining room, would turn him away when he needed them most. Was that what had left Thorin ill-defended at the end, to fall beneath the crushing blow of an orc?
"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo's voice breaks into Boromir's thoughts, and he returns his attention to the room as Gandalf calls for more light, and brings out a map that shows the mountain they will be traveling to. Portents are mentioned, as is the dragon, spoken aloud at last, though Boromir can see how that shakes Bilbo.
The conversation from there becomes louder and changes to argument until Thorin silences them with a single roared word in a language Boromir does not understand, though he is certain of which it is.
"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" He turns slightly, side-eyeing Boromir. "Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years."
The dragon had been long dead before Boromir ever heard tales of Erebor and those who retook the mountain from Smaug, but he has not told even Bilbo of the truth of his past. He is not yet ready to tell anyone else, and less so with Gandalf so close, whose fall - and assured death - he had seen himself.
"Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing. Wondering. Weighing the risk."
What risk is there to Boromir, when he has already died, felled by orcs while he defended those he called friend? What more can be done to him by a dragon, or an army of orcs, that has not already been done?
"Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we stand back, while others claim what is rightfully ours?"
Elves, men, and orcs alike will want to take the treasure, and they will not care that they are plundering a kingdom, a home, of a people who are more heroes than most will know. Greedy, Boromir knows dwarves have been called, even by his own people, but he did not remember greed in the tales he heard of Thorin as a child.
"Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?"
This is the hero, the King, that Boromir had looked for in Aragorn, the King who would stir even the hearts of those not his kin to fight for him, to fight for his people. A King Boromir can follow without hesitation or regret.