Nightmares

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Bilbo followed the King Under the Mountain through the many twisting passages and walkways that apparently led back to the royal wing. The hobbit glanced behind them a few times, more than a little suspicious of the snickering blurs that kept disappearing around every corner. Bilbo just shook his head in amusement; he really needed to have a good talk with those boys about discretion, because they weren't doing it right. Honestly, the whole shoving and snickering part was a dead giveaway.

"Erebor looks a lot better since the last time I was here," said Bilbo, trying to start a conversation of some sorts to break the silence. "It's less...burnt. And you actually have some carpeting. I'm impressed."

The Dwarf-King chuckled. "Despite common belief, we dwarves are not complete barbarians. A good deal of our woman-folk know their way around a needle, although the sword is just as important in this era as well."

A hand patted Bilbo on the head, his nephew leaning outwards to look out over a walkway. "What's that?"

"Excuse me," said Bilbo, "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Frodo gestured around him at the towering hall. "Too interesting."

"Those are the statues of my forefathers," explained Thorin patiently. "They each support one of the ten entrances to Erebor's mines. They were constructed by the greatest sculptors and smiths of their time. You can see some of the gold mines on the left side; at least half of our current production comes from that particular shaft. And the ruby mine is just over there."

"How'd you build them without falling?"

"We have a series of rope and pulley systems that allow us to transport dwarves up and down the walls," said Thorin. "They are very secure and are watched and adjusted at all times. Only a handful of accidents have happened in all of Erebor's years."

"I wouldn't want to use them. Mama always said that hobbits and high places don't mix well together."

"You mother sounds like a wise woman."

"She said that after I fell off the top kitchen shelf," Frodo confessed. "That's where she kept the cookie jar. I still managed to eat two, though."

"A worthy reason, I must admit."

The faunt nodded and then pointed to their left. "What's that? The giant stone thing-y."

"Over there? That's the King's Throne, which was built by my long and distant great-grandfather Thráin I to symbolize our connection to the mountain itself. He thought that it would be..."

Bilbo had to pause a few times so that Frodo could look down the mines, his small face enraptured by the multi-colored gems that marked many of the stone caverns. Thorin barely answered one question before another was fired away, Frodo's near constant yawns not slowing down his curiosity in the slightest. Thankfully, the Dwarf-King didn't appear to mind all of the questions, answering each one like he would with a visiting dignitary or any other adult. Bilbo had learned quickly that his nephew was a very intelligent child, so Thorin's complex explanations were welcomed with an encouraging smile from the older hobbit.

"What about the ravens? How do they get into -"

"Okay, that's enough for now," said Bilbo. They were in the royal wing at this point, its lavish hallways set apart from the rest of the underground city. "Thorin needs his sleep as much as we do, so no more questions."

Frodo pouted but didn't bother to argue with his uncle. And although it was only one hallway over, Frodo was fast asleep by the time they arrived at the hobbits' bedroom, his face buried in the crook of Bilbo's neck. He gave Thorin a thankful smile when he stepped to the side of the door, opening it with one large hand as Bilbo tried to balance Frodo into a more secure position.

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