The World is Not in Your Books and Maps Chapter IV

Chapter IV: Burglar

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Thorin was about to knock at the door of the hill when he heard the music from within. When had been the last time he had heard any group of Dwarves besides a small family group sing anything but sorrow outside of holidays? He did not know, but he wanted to listen to it as long as it lasted. He could not hear the words, but he knew it was silly and full of mischief. Finally, the Dwarves cheered when the song was done.

With weary determination, he knocked at the door. He heard a familiar voice. “I cannot stand any other Dwar… oh. Dear.” Professor Baggins opened the door. Thorin could smell a faint scent of food. “Hello again, Thorin. So that’s why they’re here.”

“Professor Baggins,” Thorin said with a slight bow, “Thorin Oakenshield at your service.”

“Bramble Baggins at yours,” Bramble said with as much of a curtsy as she could give while wearing sweat pants.

“Ah, Thorin,” Gandalf said.

“I did not realize this would be taking place at your house, professor,” Thorin said.

“Neither did I,” Bramble said, “Please, come in. Take off your shoes and put any weapons by the door. There must be something left to eat.”

Thorin entered cautiously and avoided hitting his head against the low hanging chandelier in the hallway. The king acknowledged those of the Company who had come to the door with a nod of his head. He put all of his weapons by the door save for the .22 mm gun he kept just above his socks. Thorin almost felt guilty about lying to his host. Then he saw two of the other Dwarves...

“Fíli. Kíli,” Thorin said as he crossed his arms.

The two tried to duck under the table but the Dwarves next to them pulled the duo up. “Hi, idad,” they squeaked.

“Does your Amad know you’re here?” Thorin said.

“How stupid do you think we are?” Fíli said.

Thorin looked up at the ceiling. “She will have my head if anything happens to you two.”

Fíli and Kíli gave the most adorable puppy dog eyes ever to be seen in the Shire beside toddlers and actual puppies.

Thorin was unimpressed. He turned to Gandalf, “When will our burglar arrive?”

“Oh, you never know,” Gandalf said.

A wizard being vague was never a good sign.

By the time Thorin had sat down (after hitting his head on the door frame to the dining room), Bramble had placed a bottle of beer before him and rushed back to the kitchen. The Dwarves waited on Thorin to speak, but he had a sneaking suspicion of who was to be their burglar and he would wait for her.

The professor returned with a bowl of stew, some bread, and a small slice of cheese. “I hope this is alright. I can make something up if you want.”

“This will do. Thank you,” Thorin said.

As he took his first bite of the soup, Thorin felt a pleasant tingling run through him. After another bite, it became a general warmth in his body. The more he ate, the more at ease he became with the Hobbit’s home. Thorin knew Hobbits had magic, but he had never seen it. The magic seemed reserved for food. Maybe that was why the Company had been so unusually jolly.

Balin was the bravest of the group in asking what had happened. “What news from the meeting in New York? Did they all come?”

“Yes. Envoys from all seven kingdoms,” Thorin said.

“What do the Dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?” Dwalin asked.

Thorin wished he could answer differently. “They will not come.” The Dwarves became downcast. “They say this quest is ours, and ours alone.”

“So you’re going to the Lonely Mountain?” Bramble asked quietly. Thorin realized she stood behind him near the entryway of the dining room.

“Óin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time,” Glóin said before slapping her brother on the back.

Óin continued, “Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: when the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.”

“You mean Smaug?” Bramble said, “Smaug the Terrible? Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age?”

Ori stood up. “I’m not afraid! I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of the Dwarvish iron right up his...”

The Dwarves shouts of agreement drowned out the final word. Dori made her sister sit down.

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest,” Balin said.

The company objected to being called stupid. Thorin resisted smiling at the insult.

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters, all of us, to the last Dwarf!” Fíli said.

Kíli (always following his sister) said, “And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.”

Gandalf looked frazzled. “Oh, well, now, uh, I… I wouldn’t say that, I…”

“How many, then?” Dori asked

Gandalf looked at Dori. “Uh, what?”

“Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number!” Dori demanded.

The Dwarves erupted into an argument about how many dragons Gandalf killed. Thorin saw the professor looking annoyed with the wizard, which made Thorin feel slightly less paranoid and a bit smarter about not completely trusting the wizard. However, a punch would be thrown soon if Thorin did not stop the argument.

Thorin stood up. “Shazara! If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. People look west to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!”

The company cheered. Thorin’s heart was warmed with pride at the spirit of his Dwarves.

When the cheering had died down, Balin spoke. “You forget; the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.”

“That is not entirely true,” Gandalf said. Somehow he made an ornately wrought Dwarvish key appear in his hand.

Thorin was wonder struck. “How did you find this?”

“It was given to me by your father, by Thráin, for safekeeping, just like your map. It is yours now,” Gandalf said as he handed the key to Thorin.

“If there is a key, there must be a door,” Fíli said.

Thorin pulled out the map from his jacket pocket. “Gloves, Baggins.”

Faster than Thorin thought possible, Bramble handed him both latex gloves and a flat tray which would allow the company to see the map while not allowing it to become sticky with food. The slightest hint of lilacs filled the air when the professor brushed against Thorin’s shoulder. He reverently opened up the map “These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls.”

“There’s another way in!” Kíli exclaimed.

“Well, if we can find it, but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed,” Gandalf said, “The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.”

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori deduced.

“A good one, too. An expert, I’d imagine,” Bramble said.

The Dwarves all turned to the Hobbit.

“And are you, professor?” Glóin said.

“Am I what?” Bramble said. Her eyes grew wide. “Me? No, no, no, no, no. I’m not a burglar; I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

“Bramble, you were a literature education major in your undergraduate studies. All they do is either steal from books or from other teachers!” Gandalf said.

“I am not a burglar!” Bramble shouted.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with the professor Baggins. She’s hardly burglar material,” Balin said.

The company agreed heartily. Thorin almost jumped out of his seat at Gandalf’s booming voice. “Enough! If I say Belladonna Bramble Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is.”

The group looked at the wizard in shock. Bramble appeared ready to faint. Gandalf smiled at her and patted her arm. “There, there my dear. I did not mean to frighten you.”

“Isn’t Belladonna a poisonous plant?” Nori asked.

“It can also be used as a medicine,” Bramble snapped, “If any of you call me that, you will regret it.”

Gandalf looked back at the Dwarves. “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of Hobbit is all but unknown to him. Professor Baggins is the expert on dragons on this continent, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Professor Baggins. There’s a lot more to her than appearances suggest, and she’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including herself.” The wizard turned to Thorin. “You must trust me on this.”

Thorin watched Bramble for a moment. She seemed calmer and looked at Gandalf with fondness. Thorin said, “Very well. We will do it your way. Give her the contract.”

“I don’t need any adventures,” Bramble said.

Balin put on his reading glasses and pulled out a long contract. “It’s just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth.” He passed it to the Hobbit.

“Funeral arrangements?” Bramble squeaked. She took the contract and began to read it.

Thorin felt something (he supposed somewhere in the vicinity of his heart) which made him uneasy. He leaned over to Gandalf and whispered, “I cannot guarantee the professor’s safety.”

“Understood.”

“Nor will I be responsible for her fate.”

Gandalf nodded. “Agreed.”

Bramble began mumbling aloud the contract. “Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Reasonable. Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations... evisceration… incineration?” She looked more angry than scared.

“Oh, yes, he’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye,” Bofur said.

“I know,” Bramble huffed.

Balin said, “You all right, lass?”

“Think furnace with wings,” Bofur said, “Flash of light, searing pain, then Poof! you’re nothing more than a pile of ash.”

“I know! Thank you!” Bramble shouted.

Bofur looked dumbstruck.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That was rude. You were just trying to warn me,” Bramble said..

“Actually, he was trying to scare you,” Bombur said, “My brother is a jerk like that.”

There was angry knocking at the door. “THORIN I WILL SKIN YOU AND TURN YOU INTO SHOES!” a female voice shouted.

Fíli, Kíli, Balin, and Dwalin all dove under the table. Thorin felt himself become ill. He looked under the table and said, “I thought your Amad knew!”

“We never said that,” Kíli said.

“We said, ‘How stupid do you think we are?’” Fíli said, “We never claimed to be intelligent.”

Thorin sat up and groaned. It would not be a pleasant meeting.