Chapter 17 – An Unexpected Visitor (Epilogue, Part One)

Autumn 2949, five years later...Bag End

Bilbo looked up at the sound of his doorbell. He'd just finished washing the last of his supper dishes and placed the large stoneware plate on the sideboard. He'd had a very satisfying baked autumn squash with butter and brown sugar and he was rather pleasantly full and sated. If it was the Quick Post with a late letter, it could just be left in the box.

The doorbell rang again.

"Yes, yes!" he called out to no one, annoyed at the impatience of some folk. He turned from the sink and stomped toward the front door. He dried his hands on the dish towel as he went, flipping it emphatically over one shoulder. It was much too late in the evening for deliveries, and if it was old Rollo Hogpen again, complaining about the geese...

His clean hand gripped the brass knob at the center of his door and he twisted, pulling the round, green door open and stepping back with a frown.

And then his mouth gaped open: a completely unexpected visitor.

"Balin," a white-haired dwarf announced himself, arms held wide as he made a cursory bow. "At your service."

Bilbo blinked, unable to form a word. But he did echo Balin's open arms and made a soft "Oh!" as he stepped forward and found himself embraced by his friend, none other than advisor and cousin to Thorin Oakenshield himself.

"Ah, Bilbo lad. You haven't changed a bit!" Balin's arms came tight around him and a hand thumped his shoulder.

"My dear Balin! What a joyous surprise…" Bilbo pulled back, smiled in happy disbelief and then remembered his duties as host. "Come in, come in!" He backed up and made way for the elder dwarf to come inside. He took Balin's red cloak, gave it a quick shake and hung it on a sturdy peg. "In here, you know the way," he added.

Balin nodded and stepped in, eyes roving around the foyer, noting the hallway to the kitchen, the one to the pantry, and the one to the sitting room.

"Gandalf will be just behind me," Balin said. "Once he settles arrangements for the ponies."

"Gandalf too? Here, the leather chair for you, I think. Where are my manners...tea? Or no—ale? I've a late harvest red in the barrel…"

"Thank you. An ale would be a blessing, lad."

Bilbo rushed to fetch tankards and came back with two, full to the brim, along with a pouch of fine Longbottom Leaf. He'd just handed a tankard to the delighted Balin when the bell rang again.

"That'll be the wizard," Balin smiled and nodded, eyes twinkling.

Bilbo ran to the door this time and his old friend was indeed there.

"Gandalf! You never can give a lad warning, can you," he said as an observation rather than a question.

"And a pleasant good evening to you, too, my good Hobbit." Gandalf leaned down to peer inside, not quite admonishing him. Bilbo rushed forward, hugging him around the middle and Gandalf laughed in happiness, patting the hobbit on the back.

Bilbo stood back with an amazed shake of his head and took the wizard's hat as Gandalf ducked through the round door and set his staff next to Balin's cloak.

"Have a seat!" he waved Gandalf toward the sitting room and rushed off to bring tea and seed cakes along with a tray of sliced ham (dwarves being particularly fond of pork) and he stoked the fire before taking a deep breath and facing his guests.

"Welcome," he said. "It is so..." He struggled to find the right word, suddenly overcome with thoughts of Thorin. "Good," he managed, running a hand through his curly hair. "To...to see you both here again."

Balin nodded and set his tankard down. "It's no lie that being back here reminds us all of him. Of Thorin."

Silence. Gandalf was somber. Bilbo could only nod. "You must miss him," Bilbo cast his eyes down.

"Yes, most assuredly." Balin patted his beard with a napkin (always more well-mannered than his brethren) and then leaned back in the big wing chair. "And truth be told, it is partly because of Thorin that I am here."

"Because of...?" Bilbo looked at Gandalf—the wizard's expression remained serious.

"I have only recently returned to Erebor," Balin began, and he told a quick story of spending several years abroad in Gondor on Dain's behalf. And while he very carefully avoided any opinions about Dain or his rule in Erebor, Bilbo heard the subtext: none of Thorin's original company still resided there save Dwalin, and Balin's own feelings on the matter were plain—he would seek his fortunes elsewhere from here on. "I've a mind to return to Ered Luin for a stretch, but I've heard new rumors related to the line of Durin that I find..." he searched for the right word. "Puzzling." He tilted his chin down and looked rather pointedly at Bilbo.

Bilbo felt his expression go still. He'd sworn a very serious oath on that account. And to keep our secret safe lest the vengeance of all that is evil seek to prevent us from achieving our goal.

"It is time, I think," Gandalf said to Bilbo as he lit his pipe. "To bring Master Balin into Our Secret."

"But…" Bilbo frowned. "I'm sorry, Gandalf. I swore an oath..."

Gandalf nodded, brows drawn.

"An oath to whom?" Balin asked.

Bilbo kept his face still. "To the Forgemaster."

"The Forgemaster?" Balin's bushy eyebrows went up.

"Yes. To the Forgemaster himself." Bilbo shook his head. "And if this is some kind of test," he glared at Gandalf. "I assure you, I gave my word and I will hold my tongue."

"It is not a test, Bilbo Baggins. It is a necessity, and if you won't tell our dear Lord Balin, then I will." Gandalf glowered, puffing on his pipe so that it glowed red and illuminated his face. "Though my information is five years out of date, and you, my dear friend," Gandalf's expression softened. "Can give us far more current news."

Bilbo sat on the footstool next to the fire. "You're certain? You wish me to…?"

Gandalf's only answer was to sit up, take his pipe from his mouth, and nod once.

Balin simply looked expectant.

"Yes. All right," Bilbo said, wiping a hand across his face. "Only because you are kin," he said to Balin. "But it's a complicated story." He glared at Gandalf, wondering why the wizard wasn't talking and worrying that this was still some kind of check on his ability to keep secrets.

"First," Balin said. "Tell me: who is this Forgemaster? I've heard several tales of this upstart and I've seen a sample or two of his work. I've not seen its like since…"

Bilbo held up a hand to prevent Balin from saying anything more. "Since Thorin Oakenshield himself, I'll wager." Bilbo nodded. "The Forgemaster is, of course, a dwarf—a swordsmith who has restored the Forge of Annuminas and is quite busy arming the Dunedain and bringing up a new class of apprentices. I have myself traveled north to visit several times since he's set up shop."

"What dwarf?" Balin's face reddened. "Who would have such a right? Some back-country rogue in league with…?"

Bilbo held up his hand again. "Let me tell it my own way." Balin clenched his jaw and glowered, and Bilbo started anew. "It was a summer day not unlike this one five years ago," he began. "When I opened my door to find three travelers there—two of whom I thought I'd never see again."

Balin's expression clouded but his eyes were bright. Bilbo could see he was losing patience.

"It was the lads, Balin. Thorin's lads...Fíli and Kíli. And Tauriel—Tauriel was with them."

Balin sat stone still, his eyes going from Bilbo to Gandalf and back.

"How can this be," he whispered hoarsely. "What manner of joke…?"

"Not a joke at all, my good Balin," Gandalf said. "But a true story. You will recall that we could not find them after the Battle…"

Balin stood, ran a hand through his snow white hair, and then looked away. "But it was reported," he said in disbelief. "We were told they'd been…" He shook his head and looked back at Bilbo as if he could not bring himself to think on it.

"Dismembered? Hacked to pieces?" Bilbo didn't shy from saying it, his nose wrinkled with disgust. "Lies. That was nothing more than Thranduil's ruse to keep you away when he took them." Bilbo shook his head as Balin's expression went from shock to hope, and then anger.

"Why," Balin growled, taking a step forward. "Would those sneaky lying elves," he glowered, "do such a entirely unforgivable thing?"

Bilbo pressed his lips together and he shook his head. He'd been as shocked himself the first time he'd heard of Thranduil's deed.

"For Tauriel's part," Gandalf's voice was soothing. "I believe she simply wanted to save Kíli. Elves can't really understand death, you see. Since she'd healed him once, she couldn't accept the idea that such a young life was truly over."

Balin glared.

"They all three outsmarted the Elven King in the end," Bilbo turned the conversation away from Thranduil before Balin could really work up a rage. "And I can tell you that the lads are indeed alive and today they are quite well...though it took months of healing. It is Fíli, Balin, who is called the Forgemaster. He has opened the great forge of Anuminas and has begun the work of arming the men of Arnor."

Balin's eyebrows went up.

"Durin's Heir in hiding," Gandalf murmured. "Turning his life's work to the most critical challenge of our time."

"...and Kíli?"

"His weaponsmaster," Bilbo said. "No one gets in and out of Annuminas without The Archer knowing. He oversees the training ground and few Dunedain can best him—axe or sword." Bilbo smiled, recalling the last time he'd seen Kíli out-fight grown men in the practice ring. "Thanks to him, the defenses of the old city are quite formidable."

Balin blinked at him, then slowly sat again as if weakened by the surprise. "How?" he whispered. "How could they have survived…?"

Bilbo recounted then, the story as Fíli, Kíli, and Tauriel had told him at this very fireside, not five years earlier. As he told it, Balin's expression went from sadness to shock, to anger, and then wonder as Bilbo detailed their journey from hostages in Mirkwood to third-class citizens in Erebor, and then to sojourners making their way west again on a mission to return their mother's birthright to her...one last gift from Thorin himself.

Balin leaned forward, eyes alight with avid interest when Bilbo told of Fíli standing at the edge of the Mirrormere like Durin of old. "What did he see?" Balin asked. "Did he tell you what he saw?" the elder dwarf demanded.

Bilbo stopped a moment to recall Fíli's words. "He said he saw nothing but the stars above. That he washed the ruby—the Heart of Durin—in its waters and promised to deliver it to his mother."

Gandalf spoke up then. "And he prayed," the wizard said. Then he uttered in Khuzdul: Mahal, lead me on the right path. Show me where my duty lies. What fight do I now fight? For what cause do I spend my life? "It's from the song, Nenithiel's Wish. One of the few elven songs to honor Aüle's people."

The room was silent a moment with only the sound of the crackling fire.

"Aüle has given him his life's work, then," Balin breathed, his voice deep and soft. "The Great Forge of Annuminas…"

"Yes," Gandalf said. "The Great Forge and a blooded Son of Durin to fire it."

"And the elf?" Balin asked pointedly. He clearly hadn't forgotten Tauriel.

Bilbo shrugged. "She comes and goes. She has severed her ties with Mirkwood…though she has become known to our own elves here in this part of the world. There are a lot of them who pass through Woodhall, you know…not warlike in the slightest."

"Thranduil has banished her," Gandalf said gravely. "She can not return to him. She ranges between Rivendell and the Havens, providing the lads and the Dunedain with news of the countryside." He leaned forward. "Evil forces are crawling from the shadows, my dear Balin. Times are uncertain. The White Council, I must tell you," he looked at the fire. "Is quite thoroughly concerned."

"If they have opened the forge in secret," Balin said finally. "They will have an army guarding it. Yet I must see them alive and well for myself, Bilbo."

Bilbo nodded, understanding his old friend's need. He reached out and clasped the elder dwarf's hand. "I will take you there, if you can go. There is a secret path and I well know the way."

Balin smiled and nodded, his old eyes full of unshed tears.

Bilbo patted his pockets and came up with his handkerchief, handing it over.

The old dwarf accepted it.

"Take heart," Bilbo murmured as Balin wiped his eyes. "They are strong and I daresay quite happy. I'll see you to a warm, cozy bed here in the guest chambers, and tomorrow morning we'll be off."

Balin nodded and then stood when Bilbo stood.

"Such news…" he said, wiping his eyes once again. Then he reached for Bilbo and pulled him into a dwarfy hug, reminding Bilbo once again of Thorin. But Bilbo's heart was eased: Thorin's lads lived, and now Thorin's most trusted kin knew it.

But his heart still grieved for Thorin himself. "Come along, then," he said to Balin. "A quiet night and a peaceful rest is in order. We've two full days of travel ahead and a reunion to make."

Coming soon: Epilogue Part Two!

Our combined apologies for the long weeks between chapters (because...reasons :/ ) One more chapter in the hopper and then it's a wrap!

Couple thanks to Nenithiel and Jessie152 for a bit of extra nudging and assistance (thanks much!) And hand on heart to writing buddy BlueRiverSteel.

And thanks SO very much to YOU for following this story...as always, drop us a PM or a review and let us know what you think! Mahal's Blessings,

-Summer (and Blue!)