Of Perfect Make by StarSpray

Of Perfect Make

Read Of Perfect Make

"On this occasion the presents were unusually good. The hobbit-children were so excited that for a while they almost forgot about eating. There were toys the like of which they had never seen before, all beautiful and some obviously magical. Many of them had indeed been ordered a year before, and had come all the way from the Mountain and from Dale, and were of real dwarf-make." - The Fellowship of the Ring, "A Long Expected Party"

.

It was still quite early in the year, and the markets of Dale were not as crowded as they would be later in the summer. It was still quite a busy day, however—and perfect for doing business outside. The air was still brisk, holding onto the very last bit of winter's chill, but the sky was cloudless and bright bright blue—the sort of blue that Dwarven craftsmen had been trying to replicate in enamels and gemstones and paints for centuries without true success—and the sun offered enough warmth to take the edge off of the breeze. The trees in Dale's gardens and courtyards were in flower, and on the hillsides about the feet of the Mountain the shepherds were busy with lambs and kids.

Glóin strolled down the main street; most windows had been flung open to let in the fresh air, and those who could had brought their work outside. A young woman sat in front of a shop door with her spindle, laughing with a young man who had come up to flirt with her. Across the way a group of Beornings was hauling a cart of barrels up toward the Lonely Mountain, laughing with some younger dwarves who had come out to call for tastings. All knew that there was no mead sweeter—or stronger—than that brewed by the Beornings, and that those particular barrels were destined for King Dáin's tables. There were also merchants from Dorwinion with barrels of their famed wine, and traders from Rhûn and even farther east, come to see what the markets of Dale had to offer.

As Glóin dodged a handful of children chasing one another down the street, he caught a glimpse of another party coming up the road toward the Mountain—a party of dwarves on laden ponies and leading carts filled with goods from the Blue Mountains and places in between. "Atli, you are late!" Glóin called as they drew closer.

"There was trouble with one of the carts just this side of the High Pass," said Atli. "It was a good thing we had Gimli with us; he fixed it up in the end." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. "And as you asked, I stopped to see Master Baggins. He is doing quite well, as is young Master Frodo."

"Good, good!" Glóin took the letter.

"We'll have our work cut out for us, by the sound of things," said Atli as Glóin fell into step beside him. "Master Baggins is planning a quite spectacular birthday party next year. It's all in his letter, I daresay, but he wants to order a remarkable number of birthday gifts—musical instruments and clever toys and the like. The more magical the better, he said to me."

Glóin laughed. "If our Burglar wants magical toys, he shall have them!" He tucked the letter away for later, and turned the talk to the Blue Mountains and the doings of their kin there. A new mining project had begun the year before, and all in Erebor were eager to hear if the newly discovered copper veins were as promising as they had seemed. Glóin in particular enjoyed working with copper. It was such an agreeable, warm metal.

The news from the Blue Mountains was all good, and the wine and mead flowed freely at Dáin's tables that evening. Then Glóin was convinced to open Bilbo's letter so they could all hear how their most honored Burglar was. It was a rather thick envelope, and held several pages, mostly lists, all in Bilbo's spidery writing, but with an addendum or two in another, less scrawling hand.

A remarkable number of birthday gifts, Atli had said, and he had not been joking. The list caused something of an uproar. Several dwarves, when they could speak through wheezing laughter, said that Bilbo should have given them two years' notice rather than only one and a half. Others wanted to know just how many hobbits there were in the Shire and why Bilbo thought it necessary to invite them all to his party. Then they set the matter aside to raise toasts to Bilbo, and his upcoming one hundred and eleventh birthday.

Over the next few days, it had to be decided what sort of toys and instruments and other gifts would be made or found, and who would do the making. Atli's sister Thordis was the most talented musician—and maker of musical instruments—in Erebor, the Blue Mountains, or the Iron Hills, and she set to work immediately. Pocket handkerchiefs, waistcoats, and shawls were commissioned from the thread-workers of Dale and the Long Lake. The trick was not to make things too fine or elaborate. The finery that kings and princes desired of the craftsmen of Erebor would not do in the Shire. But Gimli set to work making gold and silver cuff links—some set with garnets or tiny emeralds—and other young dwarves made music boxes with clever little dancing figures. Others made more practical gifts: garden trawls and rakes inlaid with runes to ward off noxious weeds or pests, and tea sets painted in bright colors that came from beyond the Iron Hills that looked elegant and delicate but which, Dori boasted, would survive a dragon's wrath.

Glóin himself traveled down the River Running once summer came. Near the place where the River Running converged with the Redwater was a village of Men known throughout Wilderland for the quality of their freshwater pearls. They did not have the same sea foam luster as the pearls collected by the Elves in Lindon, but Glóin thought that they would suit the matrons and the young maidens of the Shire far better. He spent many days by the river, eating his fill of river mussels and sorting through baskets of pearls. When he returned to Erebor his ponies were laden with pearls, and a good store of mother of pearl.

From farther afield came many kinds of wood that were carved into little viols or wooden flutes, to be inserted into paper crackers that came apart when pulled with a burst of colorful light, or walking sticks that were then inlaid with the mother of pearl and tiny runes for endurance and against turned ankles, and polished to gleaming with beeswax from the Beornings. The pearls were turned into cuff links and necklaces; garnets from far away in Rhûn were turned into earrings and hair clips, and the toy makers of the Mountain and of Dale were busy for many, many months making clever enchanted things for the hobbit children of the Shire.

One cart at a time, the gifts were bundled up and sent off trundling down the road, around the Long Lake to Laketown and then through the forest and beyond, until they came at last to the front steps of Bag End, alongside gifts for Bilbo himself, and letters from all of the Company who still lived in Erebor. Glóin stood with Gimli and watched until the last wagons disappeared down the road. He had wanted to take them to Bilbo himself, but other things in Erebor needed his attention. Ah well, perhaps next year.