#allthedamndwarves

[foxrun-fluffery]

The Greatest Distance

My attempt entry into @sdavid09​‘s wild Plot Bunny Challenge! I adopted Plot Bunny #59!  

What happens when the company of Thorin Oakenshield ends up in our world? How will you cope?

Considering I can’t write first person to save my damn life, I’ve added an OC... who had a lot of inspiration based on a certain someone (and those who realize who can just shut up). 

Without further ado, here we go...

                                         CHAPTER ONE

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“How is it possible for people and places to change so entirely that they lose any connection with what they used to be? Can a man adapt to new things and new places without losing a part of himself?”

—Abdelrahman Munif

“Oi, Nori, put that down!” Dori barked at his brother, his hands still swatting Ori’s away from the stack of foreign books. He felt doubly frazzled, having to keep an eye on his troublesome brothers, on top of all that had happened.

While that was going on, Bombur had sneaked a peek into a cupboard in the adjacent room, and licked his lips when he spotted a box of brightly colored pastries.

“Uh-uh!” Bofur interjected, reaching past his brother to shut the cupboard door. “Ye were tol’ t’ leave tha’ alone!” He grumbled, shaking his head. “Ye jus’ ate!” And he waved his hand to the emptied boxes of food on the table. “Eh yeah, what was tha’ called again?” His eyes scanned the crowded room for their hostess, but she and their leader still hadn’t returned yet. Whatever it was, he sure wished he could get the recipe for his brother. Bombur was a master at recreating dishes.

Meanwhile Fíli and Kíli were pushing one another about beside the hallway mirror, trying on hats from the top of the coat rack. “Here, here, try this one! Haha!” They laughed over each oddly shaped and strangely colored headwear, modeling them in the mirror.

“No way! It makes my hair stick out weird! You try it!” Fíli pulled the hat his younger brother had crammed onto his head back off and returned the favor, shoving it on top of his brothers darker locks. “Aye, there.”

Oin was seated on the sofa, watching everything going on, only heading half of it. “Bats? Nah, lads no bats in here. Too bright!”

Hearing his brother, Gloin rolled his eyes and went on with his grumbling about their misfortune. “Who doesn’a use gold coin! It’s no’ natural!” Harrumphing again, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Don’t trust folk who don’t use good coin!”

Bifur was, of course, the quietest of the bunch. He was sitting to the side of all the commotion, curiously inspecting a little toy, a bright red cart-like gizmo, with a ladder on the back. When he pressed a square button on it, the ladder would shoot out, telescoping out from the back of the cart. He could only see half of the mechanism, and was horribly curious about it. Maybe… maybe if he took it apart, he could see how it worked, and he would most definitely have it fixed up right proper before anyone was the wiser. With a light of glee in his eyes, he went off to fetch his tools from his pack.

Dwalin, ever the stoic, stood with a scowl on his face, watching all of their company and the antics they were getting up to. He rolled his eyes at more than a few, and kept a sharp watch on a few others. “Nori,” he growled after Dori had left the middle Ri brother to help the younger, “Put that back.”

Nori slipped a little figurine back onto the shelf beside him and ducked his head with a sheepish grin.

Then there was Bilbo. Poor, sweet, horribly discomfited Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire. He had seen this all before, back when he had been the unwitting victim of Dwarvish drop-ins. Of course that was all before, before they had left Middle Earth.

That very thought sent shivers down to his curly haired toes. They had left Middle Earth. He didn’t even know that was possible. He didn’t even know there were other worlds! Sure, some weird fantasy novels claimed such things, but that was fantasy, not reality! It simply wasn’t possible. No. Not at all. But, try as he might, sitting sullenly on the sofa near Oin, with his hands balled into fists on his lap, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, he couldn’t deny where they were. Another world. A futuristic world. Everything was so strange, so surreal. Nothing made sense.

The entire room full jumped when a loud ringing noise sounded out, half of them drawing hidden weapons and looking for the cause.

Dwalin stared at a small rectangular device set upright on the counter, and the shrill ringing coming from it. He reached out cautiously, ignoring a few words of warning sent his way, and picked it up. Quietly, a voice spoke from it. “This is Generations Pediatrics calling, regarding your appointment for Monday, June 5th at. 4:30 pm. Please press one to confirm.” The balded dwarf looked up at the others, seeing a few guestures for him to do something although no one seemed to agree as to what. He recognized the numerical symbols as Westeron numbers, but wasn’t sure what he should do. Obviously the message was not for them, but their hostess. Don’t want to make her miss an appointment. Slowly he reached out and pressed one. The voice spoke again. “Thank you! Please be sure to have your insurance, ID, and medical cards with you. Have a great day.”

“Thanks?” He replied, “You as well…” then there was silence and, under the scrutinizing gaze of his companions, he set the strange device down again. It beeped as he returned it to the stand. Blinking at it, rather owlishly, the tough warrior felt uncertain. This whole place was strange.

There was a sound outside, a rumbling noise, and wheels crunching on the gravel. Every member of the company looked up, towards the door. Their leader and their hostess were finally returning.

Bofur piped up then, “I thought they were back an hour ago!”

“No, that was just another one of them machines goin’ by!” Nori corrected.

A murmuring ran through the group as the door opened, first admitting… a walking pile of bags? This was followed shortly by Thorin Oakenshield, with a small human boy on his hip. He had, in years past, carried both Fili and Kili that way. No longer wearing the regal clothing he had been, he was instead in a blue plaid shirt and a pair of denim trousers. His boots he’d had to keep, but he seemed to fit in much better with this new world. He set the child down, and the boy, a tall lad of four and a half, grabbed onto the back of his mother’s coat.

“Hey, it’s okay, wait love, lemme get this… stuff down…” The woman brought the bags over to the coffee table, setting them all down. “Okay, we got clothes for everyone!” She said, standing up straight and looking at her very unexpected houseguests. Slowly she exhaled, a strand of her hair dancing with her breath. “Right, now, Thorin help me get this sorted out, I’m forgetting who gets what… oh where’s.. Ah, Balin, here’s your coat.” She handed it to the dwarf who came into the room behind herself and Thorin. He was wearing something not dissimilar to Thorin, though his shirt was a deep maroon, not as deep as his own shirt had been, but it wasn’t too unlike it. There was thin stripes of gold colored thread running through it. It was a clean cut button up shirt, that their hostess had remarked to it being similar to what her own grandfather would wear. He had chosen to take that as a compliment, mostly because of her sweet smile as she had briely reminisced. She turned to face the dark haired dwarf again, “I think we got the tags off, but you might wanna check first.” The modern-dressed dwarf gave a nod, recalling how she had removed certain clipped on papers and adhesive strips from the clothing he now wore, and helped her sort through their purchases. While he did that, he thought back to what had brought them here, to this very strange land.

Gandalf. Of course.

                   “Gandalf!” Thorin’s deep rough voice called out to the wizard who stood some ways from their camp one night. “Where are you going?” “Hm?” The gray garbed man turned to look at Thorin, “Nowhere. I am… I am going nowhere.” His long wiry eyebrows knit together in consternation. “Which is exactly the problem.”

Frowning at the cryptic words, Thorin approached him. “Is there something wrong?” He kept his piercing blue gaze on the tall man’s face, though he had quickly learned his stare did little to break through to the wizard, as it did on most other people. Most. “Oh, there is something very, very wrong, Master Dwarf, very wrong indeed.” The wizard huffed, tamping his knuckles against his beard, then stroking it as though to calm himself. “This isn’t right… not at all. It doesn’t feel right…” “If you’re having second thoughts about this quest, it’s perhaps too late now.” Thorin grumbled, crossing his arms and raising a brow as he wondered what in Mahal’s name the strange man could mean.

“Gandalf?” Another voice piped up from towards the camp. Bilbo was making his way over. “Is everything alright?” “I’m afraid not, my dear Bilbo. Something has gone terribly wrong, things are not as they should be suddenly. In a way I cannot explain.” He fretted a bit more before he turned to face them. “I need some time to gather my thoughts and sort this out… get some rest, all of you.” Wizards, Thought Thorin, I wonder if the world isn’t better off without their kind. He did give the source of this new headache a nod, then turned back to camp. “Bofur, you’re on watch. Let’s turn in.” He cast one last glance at Gandalf, watching him pace a bit to and fro, before he returned to his bedroll, patting Fili’s shoulder as he passed the brothers. “Fili, you can relieve Bofur for second watch. Dwalin will take third.” Everyone agreed, and aside from Bofur, they all laid down to get some rest, eager to sleep after a very long day on their ponies.

One of the number, however, could not get to sleep. Even after the dwarves around him were snoring peacefully, or as peaceful as dwarves could snore, for he determined that more than a few of them sounded fierce even in their sleep, Bilbo lay wide awake, until the second night watch was near over. He turned this way and that, but it was to no avail. Sleep simply would not come to him. He rose, silent in the way of hobbits, and walked over to Gandalf, lighting his pipe once he was there beside his friend. “Have you sorted anything out yet?” Gandalf hummed before answering, “Yes… but I do not like the look of it.”

“Can you tell me?” Turning to look down at the hobbit, the wizard pondered briefly if it would do any good. “I suppose I may.” He glanced up, aware that Bofur was near enough to hear them, but he relented that it did not matter. They would all know soon enough. “Some fell magic has changed the flow of time.” “Uhm.. what?” Bilbo asked in utter confusion. “That… that can’t happen… can it?” Mirthlessly the wizard laughed quietly, “There is much that can happen that you do not know about, Bilbo Baggins.” He huffed through his beard, shaking his head. “I cannot address this with all of you in tow, however it seems to have fixed itself upon this company.��� His lips pressed into a thin line for a moment. “Yes, I know what I must do. However, I think none of you shall like it very much at all. No you shan’t.”

“Oy wha’s this now?” Bofur had made his way over. “Seems you ought t’ be tellin’ the lads all, hm? Somethin’ comin’ after us, we should know!” He protested, though kept his voice hushed. If it wasn’t something worth waking the others just yet, he didn’t want to be in trouble with everyone. But he was ready to give a good shout, just the same.

Turning to look at the hatted dwarf, Gandalf arched a brow at his bold statements. “It will become all too clear in short order, however you are right, I should address this issue immediately. Rouse the others!” Waving the dwarf off, he looked at Bilbo, brows slowly lifting, “It seems you are going on a grander adventure than I first believed.” “I’m what now?” Bilbo sputtered, but the dwarves were waking at Bofur’s calls, and he could only watch in unsettled dismay as Gandalf left him to return to the camp. He huffed and stomped his foot in vain, missing his armchair and books very much in that moment. He just wanted to sit down on a soft cushion with a good book, and forget this nonsense! Too late for that. He hurried back when he heard Thorin begin to shout. “What is the meaning of this!?” The dwarven king rose, still gripping his weapon. “Why do you wake us, Bofur? There is no attack!” “Because I told him to.” Gandalf said, in his loudest shout, full of exasperation, sparing Bofur from the short tempered Oakenshield’s anger. He stood fast as those sharp blue eyes turned upon him instead. “You must all be prepared, immediately!” “Prepared for what?” Ori asked, still half asleep and confused. Dori shushed him, setting a hand on Ori’s shoulder, “Quiet now!” His attention, like that of all the others, was fully on Gandalf then.

Gandalf sighed, wishing he could explain this better, but with little knowledge to the workings of things beyond their world, it would take much more time than he felt they had. “There has been a shift in the flow of time. Someone does not want this quest to succeed, I fear. Someone beyond my knowledge.” He noted how Thorin’s expression darkened, but continued anyway. Stubborn fool of a dwarf! “It has happened before, though I daresay not for some time, not as you see it anyway. There is no other recourse but to remove you, the lot of you, until it is straightened out.”

“Remove us!?” A number of dwarves shouted in aghast or angry voices.

“Listen!” Gandalf cried, though it went unheard as all of the company began in uproar. His grip on his staff tightened as he tried to hold his own temper.

“Shazara!” Thorin bellowed, looking at his gathered company as they fell silent around him. “Explain yourself, wizard,” he nearly spat.

Still so very tired of dealing with this temperamental dwarf, Gandalf steadied himself with a sigh, and both hands on his staff. “There is much that I cannot tell you, even more yet that you would not understand, and I fear I have little time to tell you what I may. You will all be removed from this world,” He quickly held up a hand to forestall any interruptions. “Temporarily. Temporarily removed from this world and this timeline. Then you will return here, not mere seconds past the time you depart. How long you will spend in this other realm, I do not know, time does not flow equally. But you will return. So long as you do not die there.” “Die?” Bilbo qualied.

Casting him a sympathetic glance, Gandalf continued. “I will send you somewhere safe. Or rather, relatively safe, so long as you obey the laws of the land, and do not cause a stir.”

Nori suspiciously eyed everyone around him. Them, not cause a stir? They were doomed… He looked across and saw his friend, Bofur, who, judging by his expression, was thinking the same thing.

“It is a place I have been to before,” Gandalf attempted to assure them. “It is a safe place. Though, I cannot guess where exactly you will arrive, or who you shall meet there. But if you keep your heads down and do not draw attention to yourselves, you will be fine.” He told them, mumbling softly under his breath, “I hope.” He knew Bilbo heard him at the concerned look he received. “It is a land very unlike this one, they have progressed to a point such as we would think of a distant future, and it is a land in which combat is not treated the same as here. They are more peaceful and less violent. And there are no dwarves!” Not in the way that would make any sense to the company. “Sounds like yer sending us to the elves!” Dwalin growled.

“No, there will be no elves there. Nor any other non-human race.” Gandalf assured him, though he saw the discomfort in all of them and heard their murmured dismay. In a moment he was reminded of the behaviors of toddlers and small children. This brought a quirk to the corner of his mouth. That at least gave him a vague guide.

“No elves… no dwarves!” Ori gasped, sending a ripple through the little crowd.

“Only humans, how miserable!” Gandalf couldn’t quite tell who had said that, but he suspected it was either Oin or Gloin, and the quietness of the rumbled opinion gave him the belief it was Gloin.

“Those poor people!” Bofur muttered in pitying dismay.

“Will… will you be coming?” Bilbo asked, his softer voice managing to be heard through the others talking amongst themselves now.

Looking down at Bilbo, rue in his gaze, he shook his head. “I am afraid not. I must maintain the magic to the portal you will take from this end. The world you are going to has no magic left.” He wasn’t surprised by those gasps of shock. “There is not even memory of it. It is best not to discuss it too openly.” He looked to the others again, “I suggest you find yourselves an ally as quickly as you can, someone you feel you can trust.”

“How can we trust any of them?” Thorin snarled at the wizard.

“You will have little other choice if you wish to survive. And survive you must.” Gandalf looked up towards the sky, and his eyes moved, tracking things the others could not hope to see. “Ready yourselves. Leave but the barest necessities, they will be here when you return.”

“R-right, because time w-w-won’t pass here…” The voice of the hobbit was tremulous at best.

“Good fellow!” Gandalf smiled to him then. “Keep your wits about you. They are more peaceful, but less understanding, on a whole. A few bright souls still exist that would aid you. You will have to find one. When it is time for you to return, you will see the portal again. Walk through it.” “What if we’re asleep!?” Bofur objected, starting to sound panicked. Gandalf shook his head, “You will not sleep through it, that much I assure you.” His head snapped up and he nodded, “It is time. Come now, take only what you need.” And he fixed Fili with a stern look. “Only take a few daggers, if you please.” “I always do!” The older of the two princes grinned cheekily.

Bilbo started for his things and came to a stop, turning to face Gandalf, his curiosity giving him some semblance of confidence in his words. “Gandalf… surely if you have the power to do something like this… surely you could complete this journey without us.” Thorin seemed almost startled by the hobbit’s question, and he whirled to Gandalf then, his eyes expressing the same curiosity for the answer. “Yes, do tell us why you can do this, but not aid more than you have, or intend.”

Looking over at them and huffing, drawing his lips far up in a frown, Gandalf shook his head, “This is not my doing, nor my magic that can do this task. I am merely marking the target, as it were. Now, hurry and prepare!”

Soon the company stood, huddled together in unease, each carrying one pack, wearing their warmest cloak, and holding one blanket. A few carried visible weapons, against Gandalf’s recommendation, and the wizard and hobbit both were certain more than a few, if not all, carried numerous hidden weapons.

Gandalf looked them over. “Remember what I said, cause no trouble, and stay alive!” With one last uncertain glance at the company, he turned away, to face the dawning light. Raising his staff, he brought it down to the earth, aligning it just so for a second, and in a moment the rays of the dawn sunlight gleamed through the tangled wooden roots of the tip of the tall shaft. The end of the staff began to glow, and it grew brighter, and brighter, and brighter still.

It was blinding by the time the dwarves and hobbit realized that not only could they hardly see each other, they felt as nearly sickening pull on their whole bodies, seeming to stretch them beyond themselves. It didn’t hurt, but it gave every one of them a sense of terror that, could they have but moved in that instant, would have sent even the bravest of them fleeing. Just when it seemed they could no longer stand it… it got worse.

Reality folded upon itself, creating a wrinkle in the fabric of space and time, connecting two very distant points. What this felt like to the dwarves cannot be truly put into the words of any mortal creature, for the words do not yet exist. Though as the rare travelers such as these go, upon his arrival at their destination, Bilbo put it in the best yet description.

“Nope.”

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