Mahzirikhi zu gang ghukhil

I Wish To Save You A Journey

(Khuzdul)

Thorin was not going to allow the hobbit to get away with this insult.

The small creature had a bold cheek, which, in other circumstances might be admirable.

But Thorin was a king, regardless of whether he had an actual physical kingdom to show for it. That beardless halfling had no right, no right at all, why, to humiliate Thorin as he had done would have been a punishable offence if they had been in Erebor.

But alas, they were not. They were in Rivendell, which Gandalf seemed to delight in reminding him.

Thorin knew that the wizard had planned this in some way, just how he didn't know, and the why... that was up for debate. Gandalf was another who did not respect Thorin's authority, he was older, and though the dwarf loath to admit it, wiser, and seemed to think that dwarf's had the collective intelligence of cattle; who needed to be herded from place to place.

He and the hobbit shared the same exasperated looks and long sighs, and muttered together in that odd, halfing speech.

Thorin wasn't even aware that Hobbits had their own language, but there you go.

The burglar seemed to keep his words to himself. A sentiment shared by Thorin, as he only ever used Khuzdal when around his family and close friends. It was not for an outsider's ears.

Perhaps the hobbit felt the same about his language? but if that was the case, why did the Wizard speak it?

Of course, Gandalf knew many things that he didn't care to share.

Thorin hadn't clearly heard Master Baggins use his words until yesterday, when the hobbit decided to beat him over the head with it. The wizard still refused to disclose preciously what the little creature had said... but judging by the look on his face, it had not been pleasant.

The king was surprised that the hobbit was capable of cursing.

The language itself sounded foreign to Thorin's ears, it wasn't flowery and complicated like Elvish, not rough and low like Khuzdul, and lacked the crude simplicity of Westron (which he spoke because he had too, not because he wanted to).

In reality he knew little about hobbits, or hobbit culture in general. He certainly had no idea why Gandalf insisted that his company needed one. From what he had seen, they were soft unhurried beings, used to warm fires and a full larder.

This hobbit also seemed to have an attitude problem, especially regarding Thorin. Maybe he wasn't used to taking orders, from what the King could remember, the hobbit lived alone. Although the small creature had complained about some distant cousins of his once or twice... the Sackville-Baggins'?

Their burglar seemed to be full of fire at exactly the wrong moments.

Where was that fight when the Orc pack approached, I do wonder...bristled The King as he stalked Rivendell's marble passages looking for the impertinent Halfling.

As he search his anger boiled down to a low simmer, and he become more concerned about simply finding the burglar.

Where in Mahal's name was he?

Had he crawled into a hole somewhere?

Then, he got lucky, as he spotted a small curly haired creature sitting crossed legged at the edge of one of Rivendell's ponds. He had his back to Thorin, and apparently didn't hear him approach. For a moment, the king considered giving the burglar a kick into the water, that would teach him to hold his tongue.

But no, Thorin was a dwarf of 185 years, his nephews might see fit to carry on in such away but the king had more dignity than that. But it would have been very amusing to watch.

He cleared his throat, and the burglar squeaked like a startled mouse and spun around with wide green eyes.

Like the leaves of a tree with sunlight shining through them.

"Ah... Thorin." The hobbit shifted. "umm, good morning?"

"Is it?" said the king, crossing him arms.

The hobbit faultered. "Oh, well, I think so?" he looked up at the sky. "But it could always rain later."

Thorin had not come to discuss the weather. But before he could open his mouth the hobbit spoke again.

"I was actually looking for you last night, Thorin." he confessed. "But I got myself a bit lost, this place is a bit of a maze."

The king snorted, elves always felt the need to make things needlessly complicated.

"Oh?"

"Yes... I wanted to apologise." Master Baggins looked very earnest. "I shouldn't have spoken to you in such a manner, I let my anger get the better of me. I'm very sorry."

The king raised a dark eyebrow. "And what was it, Burglar, that caused you to fly into such a rage?"

The small creature faltered, becoming slightly flustered. "Oh, well, it was all that business with Lord Elrond, really. I know my greeting might have seemed... urm, overly intimate, but honestly, he was just being respectful."

At the mention of the elf's name, Thorin felt himself tense, and his eye's narrowed. "I do not retract my warning, Burglar, but I too, perhaps, could have a better reign on my temper."

The hobbit chortled, then slapped a hand over his mouth when he realized the laugh had escaped. Thorin glared at him, and the little creature shrank into himself a little.

I can't believe this timid thing is that same hobbit that insulted me the other day, The king pondered.

"Sorry." came the muffled apology. The hobbit took his hands away from his face but Thorin could see he was trying to hide a smile.

"I fail to see what is so amusing, halfling." The king grumbled, a bit ruffled.

"Oh... nothing." The hobbit replied, with a sweet smile that looked ever so slightly evil.

Thorin huffed, and felt that this conversation had served its purpose and with a polite nod proceeded to walk back to the dining hall so that he might join his kin for breakfast. He heard the patter of feet, and soon the hobbit was by his side.

"May I join you?" Master Baggins asked.

Thorin shrugged. "If it pleases you."

The Hobbit said nothing more, but hummed a little ditty as they walked. Thorin found it to be a pleasant tune.

Ansatati

Opening the flower

Bilbo wished he could have stayed in Janq'u Jach'a marka for the rest of his life.

There was just a pleasantness about the place, a calm, which reminded him of home.

That was another thing, being with the elves and their wonderful libraries, fine food in their glorious green valley made our hobbit friend feel just a bit less homesick.

But only a little.

He wondered if the dwarves ever pined for their home as he did, and thought he must be horrid to loose your sense of place, of belonging. Although in reality he knew the journey had only really just begun, he felt as if he'd been away from his home for an eternity.

His Fa had always said that he should never go Maynina. Because that's where a hobbit runs into danger.

But... maybe, he'd found another home here. Lord Elrond had (wisely out of ear shot of the dwarves) told Bilbo that he was always welcome to stay.

Would it be such a bad idea?' Bilbo wondered 'I don't know where I'm supposed to be going really.

His talk with Thorin in the morning had raised his spirits, but mostly he was just glad the dwarf didn't try and drown him in the pond he was sitting by. And it surprised the hobbit that Thorin had the capacity to apologize.

Well. Technically he hadn't, dear reader, Bilbo had apologized, the dwarf had only gruffly admitted that he might, somehow, in some way be in the wrong.

Was it progress? perhaps the hobbit was hoping for too much. He doubted that he Thorin would ever become Q'uchu masi. The dwarf, at best, tolerated Bilbo's presence, when he wasn't grumbling about soft Halflings.

Nothing had changed since their conversation, so Bilbo did what he usually did. Avoid the grumpy Ch'utu and spend his time exploring Rivendell or having a smoke and a chat with Bofur. Bombar was good for a chat too, he loved cooking, and food in general (and he was one of the few who didn't complain about the 'green things' the elves ate), which was a sentiment Bilbo heartily shared.

Bifur was, well, Bifur.

Although the dwarf did seem more interested in the hobbit, and there was was a strange incident in which he grabbed Bilbo's sleeve and yanked him towards a patch of flowers.

The hobbit balked at the dwarf's grip, and no matter how hard he yanked Bifur would not release him. He looked pleadingly over at Bofur, who was leaning on a stone column enjoying a pipe.

"He wanting to show you somethin' lad." he called with a smile. "Don't worry, he won't hurt ye."

Thats good to know Bilbo thought, glaring at Bofur who laughed. If he breaks my arm Laru Suxu, neither of us will be laughing.

Bifur stood opposite the flower bed with the hobbit in his grasp, and pointed to them while making insistent noses.

"Ummm.." Bilbo was at a loss, what was he supposed to be looking at? "Yes those are very nice flowers, aren't they?" he tried.

That wasn't the answer Bifur was looking for, he made an irritated grunt and pointed to the flowers again.

When Bilbo still looked at him blankly, the old dwarf looked up at the sky and said in a guttural voice "Wara-wara" then practically pushed the hobbit into the flower bed.

Our hobbit friend's eyes widened in surprise as he stumbled. Did he... did he want...

"Do you... want to know the word for flowers?" Bilbo asked tentatively.

Bifur tilted in head in a way that the hobbit presumed was a yes. Bilbo hesitated, he honest hadn't expected the old dwarfto remember their encounter the previous night, much less take in what the hobbit had said. Maybe there was more to him that meets the eye.

"Well, alright then." The hobbit agreed, he the leaned in. "But its a secret okay? shhhh!" he put his fingers to his lips to emphasize the point.

Bifer snorted.

Bilbo took the old dwarf's hand and pointed it in the direction of the plants, more specifically, an unassuming red bloom. "That is called Chinchirkuma."

Bifur frowned. "Chi-ch.."

The hobbit's shoulder's shook with quiet laughter. "A bit harder than Warawara, isn't it?"

Bifur looked at him in a way that seemed to say "Why are your words so hard?"

Bilbo offered the dwarf a pat on the shoulder, but Bifur seemed nonplussed. He plucked the red bloom from ground and nibbled on its petals, turned on his heel and shambled away muttering "chin-chi.." all the while.

Interesting.

Fili and Kili were as... boisterous as ever, and took delight in tormenting the elves who where not used to such lively youngsters and their tricks. Bilbo let out a sigh of relief, in theory they should leave him well alone now.

But don't be mistaken, dear reader. Bilbo was growing fond of the two silly boys, its just there was only so much a hobbit could take before his patience began to wear thin. He wondered how Thorin, who was far more short tempered, how coped all these years.

When he asked Balin, the old dwarf chuckled and said "Why do ye think he's got those grey hair's laddie?"

Ah.

Well, to be honest, being pranked by the brothers could not have spoiled Bilbo's good mood. The sun was setting now, and he watched as the yellow streams of light from the sun mingled with the blue sky. The whole of the city glowed a dull orange.

He was standing on one of the many balconies, leaning with his arms folded on the stone, looking out in no particular direction.

He was alone, again, but that seemed to bother him less and less.

He'd living alone ever since his parents had died, and besides, if he really wanted, he could go join the company by the small camp fire they had made.

Not quite yet though. For now, he was content to just watch the phallphalli.

Soon, it would be time for Lord Elrond to read Thorin's map, and then they'd have to leave.

TRANSLATIONS

Janq'u Jach'a marka - The White city (Rivendell)

Quchu Masi - Dear friends

Ch'utu - Ass/donkey

Maynina - beyond home.

Phallphalli – sunset