smallhobbit

“It’s no concern of mine,” Thorin snapped.  “You sort it out.”

“I don’t have the authority,” Balin replied.

“You do now, I’m giving it to you.  Just deal with it.”  Thorin ignored the way Dwalin was pointedly clearing his throat, objecting to the way Thorin was speaking to his brother.

“And take Dwalin with you,” Thorin added, “Failing all else he can bang their heads together.”

“You know I need to stay here,” Dwalin said.

“Then stay.  And don’t make any flaming noises.”

Kili approached Thorin tentatively, Fili hanging further back.  “Uncle, we were wondering …”

“No.  And if you’ve got nothing better to do than wonder, you can use your time to help Balin finalise the treaty he’s been going on about.”

“But,” Fili swallowed, “we just thought …”

“Don’t.  It’s a waste of your time.”

What did it matter, Thorin thought, if he was being rude?  Bilbo had written that he was coming back to Erebor and was expecting to arrive today.  Thorin hadn’t been able to see him when he left, soon after the battle.  Bilbo had spoken briefly to Kili, the least badly injured of the three sons of Durin, before he had departed, saying he would return, but Thorin had assumed the hobbit was merely trying not to upset his nephew.

Then, ten days ago, Thorin had received a letter from Bilbo, saying he was on his way back, and hoped to reach the mountain by the middle of the morning.  But the morning was already half way through, and there was no sign of the hobbit.  It was possible he had been delayed, but surely then he’d have sent a message.  No, in all likelihood he’d changed his mind and wasn’t coming after all.

Thorin glared round at the dwarves who were still in the throne room.  None of them dared approach him, and several sidled out of the door when they thought the king wasn’t watching them.  After half an hour the only dwarves left were Bofur and Bombur, plus Dwalin, who was still standing silently behind the throne.

Then the door started to open and Thorin looked up, ready to favour the intruder with his blackest look.  Cautiously, Bilbo entered.

Bilbo had just started to say, “I’m sorry I’m a bit late, but …” when Thorin leapt out of the throne, rushed across the floor, and hugged Bilbo tightly.

“You came.  I thought you weren’t coming.  But you did!” Thorin muttered.

“Of course I came.  I wrote and told you I was coming.  But the river was in flood and had washed the bridge away, so we had to make a last minute diversion.  I was hoping Fili and Kili would have ridden down to meet us, then I could have sent one of them back to let you know what had happened, but they didn’t come.”

“Ah!”  Thorin looked apologetically at Dwalin.

Dwalin nodded at him.  “Aye!  That’s what they were trying to ask you.”

“But you’re here now.”  Thorin sighed happily.  “And I need to apologise to a few dwarves for my rudeness earlier today.  Dwalin, could you go and fetch them, and I can tell them I’m sorry and they can welcome Bilbo.”

“I’ll go straight away.”  Dwalin grinned.

Thorin barely heard him, concentrating instead on hugging his hobbit again.