MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE

Chapter 2 – Musings on the Doorstep

To the end of his days Bilbo could never remember how he found himself outside, without a hat, walking-stick or any money, or anything that he usually took when he went out; leaving his second breakfast half-finished and quite unwashed-up, pushing his keys into Gandalf's hands, and running as fast as his furry feet could carry him down the lane, past the great Mill, across The Water, and then on for a whole mile or more. Very puffed he was, when he got to Bywater just on the stroke of eleven, and found he had come without a pocket-handkerchief!

"Bravo!" said Balin who was standing at the inn door looking out for him.

‘Roast Mutton’, The Hobbit

Balin found Thorin outside the round green door of the hobbit hole, and joined him in a smoke.  After a long silence, Thorin grunted in displeasure.

“I doubt that hobbit has done an honest day’s toil in all his life,” he grumbled, to which Balin began to chuckle quietly.

“So much nonsense in one sentence,” he chided Thorin.  “You quite surprise me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Of course he would not be entirely honest.  He is a burglar, after all.”

“Perhaps,” Thorin said, not entirely convinced of this fact no matter what Gandalf said.

“And of course he does not ‘toil’,” Balin continued.  “A burglar hones his skills carefully and slowly, as do Dwarvish miners, gem cutters, and craftspersons, and with as much joy in his achievements.  No doubt he has spent time apprenticing, as we do.”

“I just meant---”

“And finally,” Balin concluded with a flourish, “to use the phrase ’in all his life’ is quite droll.  Mr. Baggins is obviously too young to have had much experience in the world, either in this land or any other.”  He glanced at his companion shrewdly.  “You are not so convinced of his total uselessness in our quest as you pretend.  I saw your intense gaze upon him, and was not totally unaware of the thought-trails you both travelled.”

“I forget, at times, that the gifts of Durin flow as strongly within your blood,” Thorin said with a smile.  “Think you then that this hobbit will leave his home and comforts, and join us?  And be of use, if he does?”

Balin was silent for a time, then he turned to Thorin, his gaze level and serious.

“Yes,” he said, “but I cannot say why.  Perhaps it is because I do not know what a wizard is, nor what a hobbit is, so I cannot judge what they may achieve, or what part they play in the affairs of the world.  Gandalf seems certain in his choice, and Mr. Baggins... there is something of a destiny about him, and you cannot deny you have sensed the same.  Perhaps that destiny lies with us.”

Thorin blew out a series of smoke rings.  “You are wise, cousin.  Perhaps it is not by battle or force, or even a wizard’s magic by which our mountain will be reclaimed, but by guile... or a skill practiced by no Dwarf.”  He gazed thoughtfully back at the door of Bag End.  “Our burglar lives a comfortable life, to be sure, but I saw no gold within, and precious little silver; he has obviously not stolen anything of great value as yet. A one-fourteenth share of our reclaimed treasure would bring him wealth beyond the dreams of any burglar.  Whatever would he do with it?”

“Re-stock his larder, which we have sorely depleted!” Balin said with a grin, and was gratified to hear what he had sorely missed in recent years -- Thorin’s hearty laugh, ringing out into the night.

** TBC **