Rise with merriment and joy, Throw wide the windows and doors, drink pickle juice and vomit in your spouses flower vases then use it for fertilizer, Klaatu is BACK baby! I could NOT resist a post about my favorite number 13 or as the ancient Aztecs referred to it, Matlactli-on-eyi (ironically also the name of a chipmunk I once met in Bangladesh selling floor tiles).
@Ent, my leafy friend, your inquiry into the numerical anxieties of
Durin’s Folk strikes at a fascinating intersection of Norse mythic influence, Dwarf-psychology, and
Gandalf's broader maneuvering.
The
Dwarves' aversion to the number thirteen which is a classic case of triskaidekaphobia is less an isolated incident and more a reflection of their deep cultural fixation on reckoning, order, and tradition.
Dwarves are fundamentally a counting people. From their Seven Fathers to the meticulous division of treasure, numbers hold special weight for them. In Northern folklore, which heavily influenced
Tolkien's framing of the Dwarves, thirteen is historically the number of disruption (most famously present at the feast in Valhalla where Loki arrived as the uninvited guest number thirteen). For a company embarking on a desperate, near-hopeless endeavor, bad omens were not merely psychological burdens but they were logistical hazards.
Tolkien makes this explicit right in the text of
The Hobbit. In Chapter 1 (
An Unexpected Party), Gandalf directly calls out their numerical hesitation:
"You asked me to find the fourteenth man for your expedition, and I chose Mr. Baggins. Just let any one 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."
Later, in Chapter 12 (
Inside Information),
Bilbo relies on this exact framing when boasting to
Smaug:
"I was chosen for the lucky number."
"Lovely
titles!" sneered the
dragon. "But lucky numbers don't always come off."
As for other
Dwarf superstitions, their secretive nature itself is built upon ritual caution. They guard their inner names (
khuzdul) with absolute secrecy. They also place immense stock in prophecies and signs such as the flying of the thrush or the precise timing of
Durin’s Day, showing that their reliance on luck and omen is tied directly to cycles of the world.
(Though speaking of ancient anxieties, at least their fears were purely numerical.
Fingon (no offense
@Fingon_Findekáno 
), by contrast, suffered from a rather abrupt lack of foresight regarding Gothmog's
axe, proving that a split-ting headache in
Middle-earth is rarely solved by an early evening nap.)
Or they could have dropped one, right? To "drop one" Dwarf to return to the favored number twelve would be entirely contrary to the culture of Durin's Folk.
Thorin’s company was not a mercenary band assembled at random, it was a retinue bound by kin, honor, and shared exile. To dismiss a member of the house merely to fix a numerical tally would be a grave insult. Loyalty to the line of Durin superseded bad luck. Therefore, the only honorable solution to a bad number was not subtraction, but addition (like when I eat too many chicken wings, do I subtract one? ew imagine THAT mess, I eat more!).
Gandalf’s role in this arrangement is documented in
"The Quest of Erebor" (from Unfinished
Tales).
Gandalf was deeply concerned about Smaug and the strategic vulnerability of the North should
Sauron return. Thorin, driven by pride and a desire to reclaim his heritage, met Gandalf by chance in
Bree. While Thorin initially envisioned a full military campaign, Gandalf knew that stealth, not armed force, was required to breach the Mountain.
The Dwarves didn't ask Gandalf to find a generic "fourteenth member," Thorin wanted a warrior. It was Gandalf who insisted on a "burglar"—specifically selecting
Bilbo Baggins. Gandalf recognized that the
Hobbits possessed a quiet, unnoticed resilience and a total lack of the "smell" of
Men or Dwarves, which would be crucial against a dragon.
The mark on Bilbo's door was Gandalf’s subtle forcing of the issue, binding his chosen Hobbit to Thorin’s pride.
Regarding the Professor himself, Tolkien was generally far more amused by historical and linguistic superstitions than bound by them. He viewed such fears as rich cultural artifacts that added depth and "historicity" to his secondary world.
Je vous prie d'agréer, Monsieur, l'assurance de ma parfaite considération,
Klaatu
Assistant to the Steward of the Great
Halls of Speculation
Curator of Unfinished Thoughts
Auditor of Unnecessarily Polka-dotted Watermelons
