A Mithril Morning by Alma Heart

[almaheart.livejournal.com]

B2MeM Challenge: March 16: mithril
Format: ficlet (857 wds)
Genre: general, friendship, slice-of-life
Rating: G
Warnings: oblique references to character death
Characters: Bilbo Baggins
Pairings: none
Quote:"`What?' cried Gimli, startled out of his silence. 'A corslet of Moria-silver? That was a kingly gift!'

'Yes,' said Gandalf. 'I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the whole Shire and everything in it.'

Frodo said nothing, but he put his hand under his tunic and touched the rings of his mail-shirt. He felt staggered to think that he had been walking about with the price of the Shire under his jacket. Had Bilbo known? He felt no doubt that Bilbo knew quite well. It was indeed a kingly gift."
Summary: Bilbo knew very well its worth.

Though the night before had been late, something woke Bilbo early.  Thin mist gathered lazily outside his window, twining in strange trellises lit by the growing dawn.  It seemed, as he lay there, the low hum of the night before seemed to trundle about in his ears again.

It had been a good night, he supposed.  Dancing and pumpkin pie, with some good, simple brandy for it.  The Brandybucks knew a thing or two about throwing parties, and he’d managed to remember what level of cousin the bride was, when he congratulated her.  Still, after a point it became a bit wearying.  How many third cousins could he have to get married?  Was this not the fifth one this year?  Or was it these past two years?

More and more these days he’d felt less inclined to go out.  It was as Gandalf had said, long ago.  He hadn’t come out the same the other side.  Something in him had turned, like the ancient stone cogs of those gears in the mountain’s doors.

It was not something he regretted, no, that could not be.  Yet it set him watching the others’ gamboling about with a strange, faraway smile.  They were so jolly.  So quiet.  It did his heart good to be home.

Outside, a lone crow called, a dawning signal to the flock.

Yet sometimes home seemed inadequate.

Bilbo heard it and rose, moving on tiptoe to leave his silent house undisturbed.  As if wary of eyes that did not follow him here, he snuck through the wood-paneled hallways, trailing the ties of his dressing-gown.  Without pause he made his way to the tiny closet behind the kitchen, where he hid the past from dinner guests.  Hell knew what horrible mischief Lobelia would get into if she had her hands on this!

Inside, beneath piles and coats and buried in the back, he withdrew a small, plain-looking chest.  Setting it down by the door, he rummaged around inside until he found what he sought.  The silvery rings glinted in the light as he drew them forth.

Bilbo smoothed out the mithril corselet on the table, nudging the chainlinks into order with his thumb.  He could go for years sometimes with it tucked away, but sometimes it came upon him in a sudden rush, a strange need that he knew he would not have had without the journey.

It was lovely in a sorrowful way.  Glittering like dragonscales, and just as strong.  He wished, sometimes…  Oh, but none that.  If he recalled the beaming face of his somehow-cousin, and how he’d laughed to see her dance so, the ache remained a soft thing.  Grief, but no longer sorrow.

He had not known, upon receiving it, the worth of this glimmering shirt of rings he'd had from the hands of a laughing king, as Thorin draped it over him with delight.

Later on, he’d still been wearing it.  In the days of the aftermath, he’d spoken to Balin in shared grief, trying to fill the startling calm following strangely the terror of battle he’d never wished to know.  Bilbo had thought to give it back, then.  There were threats still to be faced in the retaking of the mountain, and he wished to see no others he loved fall.

Balin refused.

“It becomes you, Bilbo.  It is yours.”

He’d worn it since receiving it from Thorin, to the point where it had begun to feel like a second skin.  Yet, now, he had looked down at the silvered links with sorrow.  “I am no warrior.”  The scoffs that greeted that bordered on laughter, but he could not help it.  He still could not think himself one such.  A friend and a willing defender, but not a warrior.  “It would have better served some great lord.”

He should not have said that, for all eyes fell, but he had spoken only his heart.  None had blamed him, and they bore their grief in silence around him, those strong, dear dwarves.

Someone put a heavy hand on his shoulder.  “Nay, Bilbo.  It would have, at its size, been meant for some lord’s son, or a little brother.  Whomever he was, he cannot begrudge now.  It is fitting you should have it.”

And so he did.

It was slowly brightening outside.  Standing there in his hobbit-hole, Bilbo watched the light come through his window, glinting in silver stars about his fingers.

Then he put on his mithril shirt, and dressed for the day.  The cool links quickly absorbed his skin’s heat, and settled into a feather-light, dragon-strong second skin.  Once dressed, Bilbo fetched his walking stick, and went out into the quiet dawn, to take a turn about the lanes before the sleeping world awoke.  He could reach the groves before Hobbiton stirred, and then he could walk undisturbed to his heart’s content.

No threat in the Shire required mithril protection.  No, nothing so practical drove him to wear the links beside his heart.  Still, for old times sake, he donned the gift just to feel its presence with every step, clinking in a soft song, and to remember.

The sunrise was beautiful that morning.

Comments

[dreamflower]

Oh, how lovely! To think of Bilbo cherishing and wearing it, not as armor, but as a way of linking to his friends who had given it to him.

Beautiful prose, very lyrical, and very Bilbo.

[almaheart.livejournal.com]

Thank you! :) I'm pleased you liked it. I like to think Bilbo picked up a bit of understanding the true value of things, even armor, from those dear dwarves.

[lindahoyland.livejournal.com]

This is lovely. I like to think of Bilbo wearing the mithril coat before he lent it to the museum.

[almaheart.livejournal.com]

:) Thank you. Me too. There's certainly enough time between his return and LotR for him to keep it for himself awhile.

[shirebound]

feather-light, dragon-strong second skin

This is a beautiful, gentle, poetic story.

[almaheart.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I appear to wax more poetic just after reading passages of Tolkien. I think this is a good side-effect of the structure of b2mem this year. :)

[curiouswombat.livejournal.com]

I, too, love the idea of Bilbo donning his mithril shirt as remembrance and taking a walk in it now and again.

[almaheart.livejournal.com]

I'm glad. Hobbits seem good at cherishing memories in things, if their cluttered houses are any indication.

[rlaadmin.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is lovely. A perfect character study and so beautifully written.

[almaheart.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm glad you liked it.

[grey-wonderer.livejournal.com]

I like that he wears it on walks in the Shire. It's rather like a tribute. Helps him to remember. Lovely story.

[almaheart.livejournal.com]

Thanks, for reading, and for your kind words. Tribute is exactly what I was thinking :)

[hhimring]

I like the mood of this piece.

[almaheart.livejournal.com]

I'm glad! Thank you for reading.

[lavendertook.livejournal.com]

So bittersweet, grief and fond tribute mingled. Lovely!

[almaheart.livejournal.com]

Thank you! You articulated perfectly what I think Bilbo must feel, sometimes, about the quest.

[paranoidangel]

This is really lovely.

[almaheart.livejournal.com]

Thank you. :)