I should warn you, some things will be changed, other things won't. Look no further than this chapter for an example!
12th April 2941, 13:31pm
'I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure.'
Gandalf must be having a laugh, surely. An adventure. Great Yavanna. Why did he not ask another Took? Even better, actually, he could've asked Lobelia and Otho and then perhaps they'd get lost and never return to the Shire. That would do quite nicely.
27th May 2941, 21:20pm
BLOODY HELL.
DWARFS.
EVERY-
WHY?
Two of them. Dwalin, who is quite frankly, colossal, and his white-haired brother, Balin. Both of whom have quite amazing beards.
Gandalf. I know it's Gandalf. When I see him next, I'm going to- Oooh, the two at the door are quite nice. No. Absolutely not. I don't care how sweet-looking they are, I.. Aww, one of them's smiling.
And now he's scraping his boot on Mama's glory box.
And his blonde (equally adorable) brother has dumped his swords into my arms.
Dwalin has his arm around the dark-haired smiling one. I follow them. They're trying to move something, saying about how they'll never fit everyone all in.
Everyone?
They won't answer when I ask how many more are coming.
Well.
The doorbell goes. I've had enough.
"No. No, no, no. There's nobody home!" I say, before realising that was a considerably stupid thing to say. "Go away," I dump the swords on the floor, "and bother somebody else! If this is some clot-head's idea of a joke," a mad laugh escapes me, "I can only say," I stand by the door, "it is in very poor taste."
There's now about ten Dwarfs on the floor. Gandalf pokes his head in.
The Dwarfs are crazy. And hell-bent on destroying Bag-End. My father would throw a hissy if he could see this. Why are they eating everything? One Dwarf brings Gandalf wine using the tiny glass I use for shots. He looks pretty disappointed with the tiny amount. Haha.
Another of the Dwarfs (he's wearing a hat despite the fact the season's getting warmer) throws a piece of food to another Dwarf who had a ginger beard in a doughnut-styled braid. He catches it in his mouth to cheers from the rest of the group.
My father would definitely throw a hissy.
The Dwarf couldn't have missed catching it anyway.
Sweet Aule, they can drink. It reminds me of the time Hamfast Gamgee and I got into that drinking competion when we were tweens (may we never speak of that again).
Am rather impressed, though I try not to show it.
21:45pm
Have finally managed to corner Gandalf. He says I'll get used to them. I tell him the damage they've caused to Bag-End. He doesn't seem to mind much.
Bloody Wizard.
I can't dislike the Dwarfs too much, because a particularly polite one with purple ribbons in his hairs asks what to do with his plate.
Aww.
Before I can answer, the blonde one (Fili? I'm sure that's it) tells the polite one to give the plate to him and promptly chucks it over his shoulder.
That little shit.
That was one of my mother's plates.
Now they're thumping the table with their knives.
"Can you not do that? You'll blunt them!" I say, a tad sharply, because to be frank, I'm getting annoyed and if they do blunt them, I'm going to hit the roof. Somehow.
"D'you hear that, lads?" The one with the hat asks. "He says we'll blunt them!"
"Blunt the knives, bend the forks-"
Great. Now they're singing.
"-Smash the bottles and burn the corks-"
Excuse me?
"Chip the glasses and crack the plates-"
If they dare...
"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
Oh, I see. They're planning to destroy everything and mock while doing it. I'm going to kill Gandalf.
"Cut the cloth and tread on the fat-"
What does that mean, exactly?
"Leave the bones on the bedroom mat-"
That sounds like an innuendo.
"Pour the milk on the pantry floor
Splash wine on every door-"
I will cut their beards off if they do these things.
"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl-"
Assuming crocks means crockery, that's not so bad..
"Pound them up with a thumping pole-"
I might've known.
"When you've finished, if there are any whole-"
There had better be stuff whole, you bearded...
"Send them down the hall to roll..."
Yes, do that, if you wish to be bald. I won't be stopping at your heads either...
"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
Everything's neat. Oh. Feel abashed. I genuinely thought they were going to damage and destroy everything. Perhaps they're not all bad. Probably.
Their cackles end as three loud knocks echo through my smial. They're suddenly, deathly quiet. Gandalf, who's enjoying a smoke, takes his pipe out of his mouth. He looks very serious.
"He is here."
'He' turns out to be the sexiest thing to ever enter the Shire. Oh, he could enter- No. You've only just met. Now is not a good time for smutty imaginings, Bilbo!
"Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice."
He might be hot, but he has no sense of direction.
"Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."
"Mark?" I repeat. "There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!"
Gandalf says he put it there. Of course he did. Sexy Dwarf's name is Thorin Oakenshield. As he looks at me, I notice he has eyes of the deepest, most gorgeous blue. And such tufty, long eyelashes...
"So, this is the Hobbit."
22:06pm
Apparently I look like a grocer. Well, there's no shame in that, you haughty pillock. I bring him soup, placing it down harder than necessary. He doesn't seem to notice, though he does give thanks for the soup.
Still not happy at the grocer comment.
He really likes the soup.
Have forgiven Thorin. It can't have been fun getting lost in the cold after all.
They're having a discussion about kingdoms and envoys and a place called the Iron Hills. There is a collective sigh of disappointment at the news someone named Dain isn't coming.
"They say this quest is ours and ours alone." Thorin tells the group, to their further disappointment.
"You're going on a quest?" I ask, with slight interest. As a child, I was always running about, pretending to be an adventurer, bringing home 'treasure' that consisted of wilting, brightly coloured flowers and pebbles. The child in me perked up at Thotin's mention of the quest he and his fellow Dwarrows were said to be going on.
Gandalf asks for light and when I return with it, he points at the map. "Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."
"The Lonely Mountain." I read out.
"Oin has said the portents and the portents say it's time." One of the Dwarfs says. He's red-headed, but he's not the hatted Dwarf's brother, neither is he the litle polite one. Will have to try and find out names.
Time for what I wonder?
"Ravens have been seen flying back to the Mountain," I'm fairly certain this is Oin, the Portent Reader, "as it was foretold. 'When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the Beast will end'."
"What Beast?" I ask.
"That would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, the greatest and chiefest calamity of our age." the hatted Dwarf (Bofur! I remember now) explains. "Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors-"
"Yes, I know what a dragon is!"
The little polite Dwarf has stood up and said, in surprisingly impolite terms that he's not afraid of the Dragon.
"Sit down Ori!"
Ah. His name's Ori.
Fili says that they're all fighters. To the last Dwarf, he says. Again, no arguments.
His dark-haired brother goes on to say that Gandalf has most likely slain a few Dragons in his time. If he has and never told my mother, I wouldn't like to be him should she ever find out he has. She would not be happy with him keeping this piece of information.
An argument breaks out over how many Dragons Gandalf has slain. He looks quite awkward. I don't think he's slain any.
Thorin suddenly stands and shouts something in Dwarvish. Then, in Westron, asking them whether or not they think others have read the signs. They have, from what he says.
"Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we take this chance to take back Erebor?"
He's really motivational. Maybe he'll come back once Erebor has been reclaimed? No, this would probably be the last time I saw him. Why should he come back, after all?
Gandalf has given Thorin a key. Thorin looks like he's been handed his firstborn child. Gandalf says he got it from Thrain, who is Thorin's father, from what the Wizard says. Thorin looks amazed as he takes the key.
"If there's a key," the blonde Dwarf says, a look of wonder on his face, "there must be a door!"
Good Lord.
So, they need a burglar to get into this place. If I was to use blonde Dwarf's way of thought, I'd say they need to steal something. "You'd need a good burglar too, I imagine." I tell them, almost laughing at the thought of the poor idiot they're planning on using. Seriously, who would be foolish enough to go trekking acroos Middle Earth to-
Oh.
They're now looking at me.
I have a bad feeling about this.
22:48PM
The hatted Dwarf (who goes by the name of Bofur, apparently) was thoughtful enough to give a detailed description of the Dragon and how it would feel to get killed by it.
I passed out.
Still feel woozy.
Now Gandalf is standing by me, watching as Balin places a mug in my hands. Am not even clear-headed enough to say thank you.
A fine Hobbit I am.
Gandalf is still staring. "Bilbo?"
"'m fine. Just let me sit quietly for a moment."
"You've been sitting quietly for far too long." Gandalf declares.
Bloody hell, I've only been sat here a minute.
Don't even know how I got here to be honest.
"When did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you?"
"When did they-?"
What?
"They became important after I heard both my parents getting torn to shreds by wolves. You remember the Fell Winter, surely?"
Was not aware of how my voice had risen. Most of the Dwarfs are looking curiously at us now.
Gandalf is looking apologetic. "I didn't mean-" Then, "Bilbo, I apologise."
"Apology accepted."
I get off my chair. All I want to do is show my guests where to sleep and then go to bed myself. This has been a heck of an evening.
Bofur is standing by the door, blocking my way. "Before anything else, would you like to hear a song?"
"I've already heard a song."
Now he's grinning. "Nah, a proper song. Come on, lad."
23:00PM
Thorin is singing. He's got a deep voice that gives a sense of melancholy to his song.
"Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep
And caverns old
We must away
Ere break of day
To find our long forgotten gold
Now the other Dwarves are joining. Some are standing.
The pines were roaring
On the height
The winds were moaning
On the night
The fire was red
It flaming spread
The trees like torches
Blazed with light
Not a single one is smiling now. Thorin is gazing into the fire as though he can see his lost kingdom within the flames. Perhaps he can.
"They do need help regaining Erebor, Bilbo."
"Why my help?"
"Because," Gandalf's eyes are softening, "you are Belladonna Took's son. Not only that but you have your father's sensibility, which i'm sure will come in useful during the quest."
"Oi, we're sensible!" Ori says.
Am very determinedly not looking at the others. Then I glance towards Thorin. He's not looking into the fire with that intensity anymore, but the want, the need to find Erebor is still there.
He wants this so badly.
They all do, I realise, looking around. Well, Mama always said it was best to give people help. A saying my father fully agreed with.
Gandalf is now pushing the contract at me. Gods, he cannot wait to get started, that Wizard. Now, he's offering a quill. Yavanna only knows where he got it from. I don't remember leaving one around here.
Thorin is looking at me. His eyes are like a deep, blue lake and when I finally tear my eyes away from his, writing my name on the contract doesn't seem so hard after all.
*clears throat* Yes. I know we're supposed to read the book from Bilbo's POV, but, this is fanfiction. If I wanted to write something from Azog's perception, I could. There's diary-based fics (brilliant, they are too!) from Thorin's POV, but I've not found one from Bilbo's, so I'm writing one. I hope it's enjoyed, reviews would be appreciated and please, don't worry, Recreation is not abandoned.
Love from Shania. xx
