It was Thorin who first spoke, his voice strong as he attempted to bring business back on track.
"Gandalf, dwarves, Mr Carter and Mr Baggins! We are met together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent and audacious hobbit-may the hair on his toes never fall out! All praise to this 'whiskey' and 'cheeseburgers' of his!-" He paused for breath and for a polite remark from the hobbit, but the compliments were quite lost on poor Bilbo Baggins, who was wagging his mouth in protest at being called audacious and worst of all fellow conspirator, though no noise came out, he was so flummoxed.
Well, that and between the whiskey in his belly and the snickering from Ben in the corner, he didn't feel as if he had much of a chance to interject something useful in the conversation.
So Thorin went on: "We are met to discuss our plans, our ways, means, policy and devices. We shall soon before the break of day start on our long journey, a journey from which some of us, or perhaps all of us (except our friend and counsellor, the ingenious wizard Gandalf) may never return. It is a solemn moment. Our object is, I take it, well known to us all. To the estimable Mr. Baggins and his friend Mr Carter, and perhaps to one or two of the younger dwarves (I think I should be right in naming Kili and Fili, for instance), the exact situation at the moment may require a little brief explanation-"
This was Thorin's style. He was an important dwarf. If he had been allowed, he would probably have gone on like this until he was out of breath, without telling any one there anything that was not known already. But he was rudely interrupted by the young man leaning in the corner of the room.
"Big bad dragon is squatting uninvitedly in your former home and you're going to try and kick his vagrant ass to the curb. Dangerous business indeed, if it weren't for the fact that you will have two wizards amongst your fellowship!" Ben called out, buffing his nails on his shirt as he glanced at the Dwarven Lord from the corner of his eye.
"… Indeed." Thorin eventually managed, somehow managing to sound dignified even when looking annoyed at being interrupted.
His eyes landed on the fast-drinking hobbit as Bilbo once again slammed the liquor down in one go, before immediately refilling it as he muttered, "Why me? Could have been any other hobbit, but no, it had to be me!"
"Excitable little fellow." He observed, Gandalf at his side letting out a chuckle.
"Indeed. Gets funny queer fits, but he is one of the best, one of the best-as fierce as a dragon in a pinch."
If you have ever seen a dragon in a pinch, you will realize that this was only poetical exaggeration applied to any hobbit, even to Old Took's great-grand-uncle Bullroarer, who was so huge (for a hobbit) that he could ride a horse. He charged the ranks of the goblins of Mount Gram in the Battle of the Green Fields, and knocked their king Golfimbul's head clean off with a wooden club. It sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit-hole, and in this way the battle was won and the game of Golf invented at the same moment.
Thorin, who had in fact seen a dragon (though perhaps not one in a pinch) glanced from the smiling wizard to the hard-drinking hobbit, before slowly nodding, though the doubt remained easily visible on his face.
It was Gloin who continued, being one of the more sober dwarves, though his cheeks were already a ruddy pink colour, a half-empty bottle clenched tightly in his fist.
"Will he do, do you think? It is all very well for Gandalf to talk about this hobbit being fierce, but look at the way he reaches for the drink just because of a small bother of excitement. Anyone with nerves that shoddy would be nervous and skittish enough to wake the dragon and all his relatives, and kill the lot of us. As soon as I clapped my eyes on the little fellow teetering on his toes as he tried to get the basketball in the ballbasket, I had my doubts. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar!"
"If he is a grocer, he is the best in all of Eriador! Whiskey, Cheeseburgers and Chicken nuggets? We owe him a share of Erebor's treasures for that alone!" Bombur quickly jumped to the sputtering hobbit's defence.
"Now let's not be too hasty…" Thorin quickly cut in, a somewhat worried look on his noble face.
"Pardon me," Bilbo called out, silencing the group as he placed his large glass on a nearby side-table with a forceful clink! , "if I have overheard words that you were saying. I don't pretend to understand what you are talking about, or your reference to burglars, but I think I am right in believing" (this is what he called being on his dignity) "that you think I am no good. I will show you. I know there was a sign on my door, but I will have you know it was Gandalf who placed it there. A full afternoon I've sat there, on my knees and up to my elbows in suds but by no means could I get rid of it. All that was left to me was to await the coming of a gaggle of dwarves I had neither asked for nor invited. As soon as I saw your funny bearded faces on the door-step, I knew trouble had found yet more trouble and that it was determined to stick to me as a limpet. But treat it as the right one. Tell me what you want done, and I will try it, if I have to walk from here to the East of East and fight the wild Were-worms in the Last Desert. I had a great-great-great-grand-uncle once, Bullroarer Took, and-" Bilbo started up, his Took side awoken from slumber by the heat of the whiskey running pleasantly through his veins.
Yet Gloin, ever the dour one even after a day of drink and song and games, interrupted the prideful hobbit.
"Yes, yes, but that was long ago," said Gloin. "I was talking about you. And if you have been staring at the mark on your door for an afternoon, you should know that it's the usual one in the trade, or used to be. Burglar wants a good job, plenty of Excitement and reasonable Reward, that's how it is usually read. You can say Expert Treasure-hunter instead of Burglar if you like. Some of them do. It's all the same to us. Gandalf told us that there was a man of the sort in these parts looking for a Job at once, and that he had arranged for a meeting here this Wednesday tea-time."
"So I did. For very good reasons. You asked me to find the fourteenth man for your expedition, and I chose Mr. Baggins. Just let anyone say I chose the wrong man or the wrong house, and you can stop at thirteen and have all the bad luck you like, or go back to digging coal." The wizard responded.
He scowled so angrily at Gloin that the dwarf huddled back in his chair; and when Bilbo tried to open his mouth to ask a question, he turned and frowned at him and stuck out his bushy eyebrows, till Bilbo shut his mouth tight with a snap.
"That's right," said Gandalf. "Let's have no more argument. I have chosen Mr. Baggins and that ought to be enough for all of you. If I say he is a Burglar, a Burglar he is, or will be when the time comes. There is a lot more in him than you guess, and a deal more than he has any idea of himself. You may (possibly) all live to thank me yet."
"What of the young wizard? If we take him and leave the hobbit, we will still be sat at the number of fourteen." Thorin spoke up in a contemplative tone.
He did not trust men who smiled too easily, but the power the young man had displayed so far was without question. Given the dangerous nature of their quest, a wizard of his calibre could only be a boon. Or at least far more a boon than dragging along a tweed-clad, liquor-drinking, nervous mess of a hobbit.
Said nervous mess of a hobbit was actually nodding along with Thorin's words, until a firm hand came down on his rigid shoulder, Ben's voice strong and unwavering, leaving no room for argument.
"I shall come along with Bilbo, or I shall not come along at all. Instead, I will go on ahead and believe me, my means of transportation are far better than ponies. I'll reach the Lonely Mountain long before you will ever lay eyes upon its snow-dusted peak. And once I'm there, I'll turn Smaug into a shiny new coat, melt all of Erebor's gold into a belt-buckle and flatten the Mountain until only flatland remains." The wizard called out in a fearsome tone and for some reason the assembled dwarves couldn't quite bring themselves to doubt his boast.
"Your choice." Ben said with a innocent grin as he stared down Thorin and the son of Thrain could do naught but bow his head and agree.
"We are in agreement then? Good! Now Bilbo, my boy, fetch the lamp, and let's have a little light on this!" Gandalf called out, spreading out a piece of parchment rather like a map over the quartz-like table-top placed in their center.
Before the startled hobbit could make a move though, Ben snapped his fingers and a ball of softly glowing light suddenly sprung into existence above the table, almost like a tiny bright star had appeared to the awe of the gaggle of dwarves and the resident wizard.
"… right. That works just as well I suppose."
"What is this?" Thorin asked softly, tracing several lines on the parchment with careful fingers and a keen eye.
"This was made by Thror, your grandfather, Thorin," Gandalf said in answer to the dwarf's question. "It is a map of the Lonely Mountain."
"I don't see that this will help us much," said Thorin disappointedly after a glance. "I remember the Mountain well enough and the lands about it. And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where the great dragons bred."
"There is a dragon marked in red on the Mountain," said Balin, "but it will be easy enough to find him without that, if ever we arrive there."
"There is one point that you haven't noticed," said the wizard, "and that is the secret entrance. You see that rune on the West side, and the hand pointing to it from the other runes? That marks a hidden passage to the Lower Halls."
"It may have been secret once," said Thorin, "but how do we know that it is secret any longer? Old Smaug has lived there long enough now to find out anything there is to know about those caves."
"He may-but he can't have used it for years and years."
"Why?"
"Because it is too small. 'Five feet high the door and three may walk abreast' say the runes, but Smaug could not creep into a hole that size, not even when he was a young dragon, certainly not after devouring so many of the dwarves and men of Dale."
"Way to bring down the mood." Ben said drolly, but Gandalf was not cowed.
"A harsh reminder mayhaps, but one that bears saying. Dragons grow not only with age, but with conquest as well, and the prize of the Kingdom under the Mountain is a great prize indeed. Smaug may yet be the greatest drake of the Third Age, a foe that is not to be underestimated. But .." he said, leaning over the aged parchment and tapping the rune with a gnarled finger.
"… that great size also means that we may travel where he cannot go. An excellent pathway for one of nimble stature, light of foot, deft of finger and quick of wit. In other words, a prime opportunity for a burglar." The wizard finished with a significant look towards Bilbo, who despite himself was leaning over the map alongside the dwarves.
He loved maps, and in his hall there hung a large one of the Country 'round with all his favourite walks marked on it in red ink.
"Seems like a plenty large hole to me. Three dwarves abreast can pass? How could such a large door be kept secret from everybody outside, apart from the dragon?" he asked.
"In lots of ways," said Gandalf. "But in what way this one has been hidden we don't know without going to see. From what it says on the map I should guess there is a closed door which has been made to look exactly like the side of the Mountain. That is the usual dwarves' method-I think that is right, isn't it?"
"Quite right," said Thorin.
"Also," went on Gandalf, "I forgot to mention that with the map went a key, a small and curious key. Here it is!" he said, and handed to Thorin a key with a long barrel and intricate wards, made of silver.
"Keep it safe!" said Gandalf.
"Keep it secret!" Ben immediately added with great mirth, as if he was finishing a joke (to the great confusion and consternation of Thorin).
"Indeed. I will." The dwarven lord said in a considering tone, his eyes flitting between the two wizards as he fastened it upon a fine chain that hung about his neck and under his jacket. "Now things begin to look more hopeful. This news alters them much for the better. So far we have had no clear idea what to do. We thought of going East, as quiet and careful as we could, as far as the Long Lake. After that the trouble would begin-"
"A long time before that, if I know anything about the roads East," interrupted Gandalf.
"We might go from there up along the River Running," went on Thorin taking no notice, "and so to the ruins of Dale-the old town in the valley there, under the shadow of the Mountain. But we none of us liked the idea of the Front Gate. The river runs right out of it through the great cliff at the South of the Mountain, and out of it comes the dragon too-far too often, unless he has changed his habits."
"It is a fortunate thing then," said Gandalf, "that you will have young Benjamin along. At first I tried to find a hero or perhaps a warrior; but warriors are busy fighting one another in distant lands, and in this neighbourhood heroes are scarce, or simply not to be found. Swords in these parts are mostly blunt, and axes are used for trees, and shields as cradles or dish-covers; and dragons are comfortably far-off (and therefore legendary). That is why I settled on burglary-especially when I remembered the existence of a side-door. What fortune then that we have come across both the burglar as well as another wizard!"
"Indeed. What fortune." Thorin echoed, his eyes travelling back and forth between staring at Ben and the small Bilbo standing at the wizard's side.
"So now let's get on and make some plans." Gandalf said, prodding the cautious Dwarven lord along.