Sword
dance
Author: wanderingsmith
April 2014
Summary: Bilbo stood at the edge of the clearing, staring avidly
as Orcrist swept low, cutting down an enemy below the knees, never
slowing as the king followed the movement upwards, sword flowing
so naturally with him into the new position that it made something
hot unfold deep inside the hobbit. The call of something as
beautiful as any of Yavanna's treasures leaving him frozen,
unwilling to cause the silken flow of grace to stop.
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to
pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the
toys, I play with 'em.
AN: inspired by Thorin's footwork that struck out at me in
Natalia Rose's The Cave music vid, starting at 1:04
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rr1mlhaDKRw
NOTE 1 >> in case you aren't familiar with sword forms,
this was something like what I was seeing:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZ7oDlXq9BM
in case you'd like to have the song play as you read :D
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTW_4R5_wLw
It was their second morning at Beorn's house, and Bilbo found
himself wandering the grounds in bright sunshine. He should be
sleeping off that lovely breakfast and the last weeks of painfully
dangerous travel, but it seemed he was getting used to the
excitement that had filled every moment since he'd left his home
behind.
He'd made use of the baths and done what repairs to his clothing he
could yesterday, and his new sword didn't seem to require the care
the others had to give their weapons at every opportunity. And so
now he was wandering, looking for something to capture his interest.
Preferably away from the dwarrows that were reacting to the
lessening in tension by turning rowdy; making them unsafe companions
for a small hobbit who would prefer not to accumulate any more
bruises, thank you and good day.
Once he'd passed the first layer of trees into the forest, he
thought he heard an unfamiliar stuttering whistle sliding through
the air, accompanied by occasional heavy thumps. Frowning and
fingering the hilt of his sword, he only hesitated for a moment
before creeping toward the sounds. Really, he was entirely a shame
to the name Baggins!
What he found was Thorin in a clearing, down to his brigantine and..
seeming to flow through the air as he battled invisible enemies (see
NOTE 1).
Bilbo stood at the edge of the clearing, staring avidly as Orcrist
swept low, cutting down an enemy below the knees, never slowing as
the king followed the movement upwards, sword flowing so naturally
with him into the new position that it made something hot unfold
deep inside the hobbit. The call of something as beautiful as any of
Yavanna's treasures leaving him frozen, unwilling to cause the
silken flow of grace to stop.
But he watched, oh yes he watched, as the sword, and Thorin's body
with it, continued to move. From high to low, stabbing, swirling,
ducking; even jumping, heavy dwarven boots and all. Bilbo could see
there were some very specific alignments of steel and flesh being
created every few instants before everything whirled and some new
way was used to make that edged steel into a source of death for
anyone foolish enough to stand before the powerful dwarf wielding
it.
It was mesmerizing, breathtaking, and the hobbit could feel his
blood pounding to join the fight, to be part of that symphony of
movement. Back and forth across the clearing the whirling dervish
flowed, from the simplest, most efficient killing stroke, to
eye-defying exhibitions. Energy almost visibly gathering from one
movement to the next, and the next, and to a holding position of
such perfect control that Bilbo knew nothing could shift the warrior
from it until he was ready to take advantage of some tiny shift in
balance to explode back up.
When Thorin suddenly stopped, standing right before Bilbo, his sword
held straight up with both hands wrapped around the hilt at breast
level, the hobbit took several moments to realize the display was
over. And that he was staring at the king with awe, panting far
harder than the dwarf was.
He swallowed, hopping it wasn't utterly obvious from the blush he
felt suffuse his face that what he felt was unabashed hunger; though
for what exactly, he'd have been hard-pressed to say.
The spell was broken when Thorin took a deep breath of obvious
pleasure and shook himself, his stance relaxing into his usual regal
bearing, arms lowering to hold his sword loosely. And a familiar
sardonic amusement in the crooked brow he sent the hobbit.
His chin jerking up in silent reply, Bilbo straightened. Refusing,
as usual, to be bullied by the shear physical charisma of the king.
"I didn't realize it was like dancing."
After losing himself so thoroughly, he couldn't help but feel
pleasure at seeing Thorin's brows fly up, "I rather doubt that,
master Baggins."
Surprised the words were reasonably polite rather than scathing,
Bilbo replied in kind, "Why?"
He was even more surprised at the laughter Thorin let him see
shinning from those pale eyes then, "Because I assure you I cannot
dance."
"Cannot?"
Self-deprecation visibly twisted the king's lips as he answered, "It
is something my family insisted the prince must learn, but none of
them could deny I was shameful at it even after all that. I assume
hobbits dance a great deal."
Bilbo grinned, bouncing on his toes, refusing to delve on why
Thorin's sudden interest in hobbits made the day feel even brighter.
"I suppose we do. Youths do. And many couples seem to enjoy it. And
certainly there are occasions where a good jig is the only proper
way to let one's joy out."
The dwarf watched him steadily, "..And yourself?"
Bilbo shrugged, though he still smiled faintly, returning the gaze
and feeling an odd camaraderie with the king.
The quiet moment stretched while the peaceful forest sang around
them to what could be the last warm sun of the year, until Thorin
abruptly nodded, as though having reached some silent decision. "You
should learn to use that sword. Come." And he made to move back into
the clearing without waiting for agreement.
Slightly shocked at the abrupt change of topic, Bilbo reflexively
stepped backwards, eyes widening and hands out in front of himself
defensively, "oh I.. I can't!" That mad urge to join the dance
earlier had long past, and now he was well aware he'd merely look a
fool.
Looking far kinder than Bilbo was used to seeing the king, Thorin
stepped back closer to him, "You were brave leaping before me, but
the little I saw and the others have described of the battle makes
me think you were lucky to take those orcs by surprise. You cannot
always count on such luck, my burglar," Heavy hands swallowed his
shoulders gently and Thorin leaned down, eyes steady on Bilbo's,
"Next time, I may need you to know more."
Resisting that intimate, gravelly voice was not something Bilbo
could imagine managing, so he resigned himself with no more than a
wince, "...oh, I, well.."
With a hint of a smile, Thorin stepped back expectantly and Bilbo
reluctantly pulled out his letter-opener.
And spent the following long minutes stumbling through getting his
stiff body into unfamiliar positions, arm rushing and fumbling to
bring the blade where Thorin wanted it, even the position of fingers
and wrist and elbows being shifted this way and that.
Finally letting the hobbit take a rest to catch his breath, Thorin
frowned, something between worry and confusion, "You need to relax."
Bilbo rolled his eyes, "Easy for you to say."
"...Put that sword down. Now, close your eyes and picture the last
time you danced one of your jigs."
With a single wary look at the dwarf, Bilbo did as asked, doing his
best to clear his mind and thinking of Drogo's last birthday party,
free-flowing with drink and tales of their youth.
Thorin's deep voice was quiet, obviously pitched not to disrupt the
hobbit's thoughts, "Now.. Dance." Bilbo couldn't help but frown at
the request, "Please. I swear I will not laugh at anyone who can
dance."
Hearing the dwarf who'd tried to intimidate him away by calling him
a grocer now say 'please' in such a soft tone was worth more to him
than any oath, and Bilbo only took one shaky breath before starting
to move, struggling to keep his mind on memories of dance rather
than on the knowledge of the eyes watching him.
With his burglar's eyes closed, Thorin allowed himself an unguarded
smile, enjoying his unlikely saviour's finally relaxed expression as
Bilbo shuffled about in a slow pattern, perhaps not with the grace
of an elf, but with far more honest pleasure.
Reaching down to pick up the hobbit's short sword, the king waited a
moment more, and then consciously controlled his tone to avoid
spooking his student out of his obviously far-away mood, "Here, do
not jump." Carefully timing himself with Bilbo's steps, Thorin
shifted his grip to hold the little sword's blade with fingers on
the flats, gently touching the hilt to the hobbit's hand and letting
go as soon as he felt the other's grip echo down the steel. "No!" He
kept his tone absolutely soft, "Do not stop. Please, continue to
dance, Bilbo. There is no sword; only your hand."
And Thorin breathed out, glad to see the hobbit return to his dance,
if a little less freely than before, and with a small frown of
displeasure creasing his brows; but the sword was beginning to shift
with his movements. Stiffly at first, but then more naturally.
He watched attentively for a few minutes before speaking again,
"Now, do not stop moving. Do you trust me?" He waited for Bilbo's
nod, then stepped forward, carefully bringing Orcrist down to kiss
the smaller blade, grinning briefly when Bilbo proved he actually
did trust the king by barely reacting to the feel and sound of steel
on steel. Thorin followed the hobbit's steps smoothly, bringing
Orcrist in for another gentle hit. Getting Bilbo used to the feeling
of swords meeting.
It was far less physically demanding than the forms he'd been
practising before, but Thorin had to keep absolute focus on the
inexperienced and blind hobbit to be sure neither of them hurt each
other with their extremely sharp blades. So that by the time Bilbo
grumbled, "This is not how to attack someone," he was willing to
call a halt.
"Not quite." Thorin answered while stepping back, out of range, "You
can stop now. No, these are not the forms used to attack or defend.
But you, my gentle hobbit, need to accept that sword, to make it a
part of you, an extension of your arm. Once you have done that, then
we will return to learning how to thrust and parry."
Nodding his understanding, Bilbo stood, breathing a little hard, but
smiling too. Watching a line of sweat trickle down into Thorin's
beard. Thinking that that had been more fun than the last fifty
birthdays parties he'd attended. He shook his head at the fanciful
thought, sending Thorin a teasing grin, "You were dancing."
Though he half expected a defencive frown, all he got was the raised
brow of challenge, "No, I was striking your sword."
He should let it go. He knew that. This had been such a surprisingly
pleasant encounter.. but Bilbo had gotten used to living
dangerously. His smile faded. Now that the thought had occurred, he
found it meant more than he knew was safe, seeing as he didn't know
how or if he could convince Thorin, even this new friendly Thorin,
"Please, I let you try to teach me. Will you let me do the same?"
"Hobbit..."
That growl had not been nearly convincing and Bilbo's heart lifted,
a smile of anticipation rising, "Please."
"You will continue your lessons without argument?"
Bilbo let the smile show, even though he had no doubt those lessons
would be a great deal more painful than he'd like, "Yes!"
Thorin grumbled what might be Khuzdul or mere wordless annoyance,
but he leaned to drop Orcrist to the ground before facing Bilbo with
a very weak version of his usual glower.
Bilbo pointed down, "Boots. Off." No one could dance wearing those
ankle-locking things.
The blink of a wide-eyed look he surprised from the grumpy king
would be something to remember on cold nights, but he kept himself
from smirking as Thorin sat down with shocking meekness to remove
the footwear and expose the cloth wrappings under them. "Those too,
better that you feel the ground."
"You are trying to make me into a hobbit."
For some reason, Bilbo couldn't quite laugh in response to the
tease, "Would that be such a terrible thing?"
He thought he saw a bit of a smile hiding in his beard as the king
rose to stand before him, and that was enough, today, for him to let
it go. But Bilbo could see him stiffening, as well, and he thought
for a moment, staring at his reluctant student, then leaned down to
grip Orcrist, grunting at the unexpected weight of it; and the
thought of the strength needed to enact the weapons practise that
had started all this, had him wide-eyed as he handed the sword to
the dwarf.
Ignoring the questioning look sent his way, Bilbo cleared his throat
and mentally went through his idea before speaking with a confidence
he did not entirely feel, "This is the rhythm." And, looking at
Thorin's hand on Orcrist rather than his expression, he started to
hum; in his mind hearing a deep voice echoing in his hole in the
Shire, 'Far over, the misty mountains cold'.
He saw the hand jerk before an outraged voice broke into his hum,
"That is not a song of dance!"
"No." Now he looked up, relaxing to see confusion instead of true
anger, "But it is a rhythm we both know. Just listen to the sound.
Or better yet! Hum with me." This time when he started humming he
jerked his chin up at the dwarf. And then, without further argument,
there were two tones buzzing through the air.
When they finished a verse, he spoke, quick and soft, bringing his
arms up to suit the words, "Cross your sword with mine."
Going back to humming, their swords crossed just above the hilt, he
waited until the tension around Thorin's eyes returned to normal
again, holding the gaze as calmly as he could.
And then he gently applied pressure with his hilt, sending the
blades carefully arcing to the side on a high note in the song. Then
slowly back across at the descending note. Down and around and up
and out; slow or fast, all guided by the music.
By the time they'd gone through a verse or so, Bilbo could feel
Thorin anticipating the movements instead of waiting on his guiding
pressure. And so, on the next note where they'd been raising their
hands, he also pushed toward the dwarf with the hilts. And when
Thorin stepped back instinctively, Bilbo took the step to follow.
Then on the next shift in note, he pulled slightly, and waited for
Thorin to shift his weight before taking a step back.
He didn't step with every note, and the first time that Thorin was
the one to apply pressure when Bilbo would have stood still, they
both grinned.
Back and forth and around, the lyrics of the song were long done,
but they both returned to the beginning and continued to hum the
rhythm, Thorin's steps getting visibly lighter, until Bilbo could
see the grace he'd practised with finally accepting this new outlet.
And around each other and around the clearing they danced, eyes
locked as they took turns guiding the movements. Until Bilbo's dry
throat cracked attempting to rise and he started to cough and they
both laughed, rough and harsh and short, aware that they needed to
stop.. and that they didn't really want to.
Bilbo let Thorin unlock their swords and he gratefully slid his into
its sheath, swallowing what little spit he had and flexing his
stiffened hand as he watched the dwarf slide Orcrist into the
scabbard he'd laid at the edge of the clearing with his coat, then
put his footwear and the coat and scabbard back on. The hobbit spoke
carefully, feeling how almost raw his throat was, suddenly, but
unwilling not to acknowledge what had passed. "Thank you."
Straightening and shaking himself to settle his gear, Thorin raised
a brow at him, "For what, exactly, master hobbit?"
Bilbo shook his head, smiling, "You know very well, Thorin."
The only answer he got was a grunt, but the silence as they walked
back to the house was that of friends.
AN: I was
picturing the dance as something like a slow waltz. Just for
fun, try holding your hands together as though a sword stood
there and playing the song. And see if I was imagining that you
could dance to it...
This was the fandom where I first heard the term sword 'forms'
http://www.wheeloftimerp.net/library/swordforms
and yes, there are a few Bilbo/Thorin dance fics out there that
probably provided some of the fodder for this, lol
Back to Fanfic
Back to The Canadian Wanderer's homepage