Bilbo Baggins of Bag End under The Hill was sitting on his porch outside of his hobbit hole, smoking a pipe and blowing perfectly round smoke rings up into the clear, sunny sky.
After that fiasco with the dwarves and Smaug, Bilbo was, to put it shortly, completely and utterly bored. Back in the Shire, everyone seemed to think of him as a rather queer hobbit, similar to how they viewed the Tooks, Brandybucks, and any of the other hobbits who lived across the river. They've taken to be wary of him because of his extensive traveling throughout Middle Earth; going through the Misty Mountains where terrible goblins and ravenous wolves resided, traversing the Great River of the Wilderland, trekking through the perilous Mirkwood forest where dangerous wood elves and enormous spiders were said to populate, and even consorting with a dragon at the Lonely Mountain.
"How ridiculous," thought Bilbo with a shake of his head. "The wood elves within the forest aren't terrifying in the least, especially since they fought with us against goblins and wolves. Oh, and the spiders! It's not as if we went on a merry jaunt together through the trees; they actually tried to kill me and my companions, not aid us!"
Bilbo then sighed in exasperation, wondering if his fellow hobbits would ever stop staring at him suspiciously and gamble when he might run off onto another silly quest. He silently stood, staring out towards the autumn landscape. Resolving to take a walk (mainly because he saw no one else), he stepped onto the path at a fast pace, thinking if he tired himself out that he could return quickly and eat a second lunch before napping.
After a while of his pointless meandering along the path, he decided then that it was the perfect time to return home. As he came to this decision, a green stagecoach rolled to a stop behind him, almost blending in with the surrounding hills. Bilbo turned his head to the side, thinking the driver could be a foreigner and need directions. He saw no one holding the reins; actually, he saw no horses, either.
Then a loud, persistent ringing sound reached his ears. It sounded like a mixture between "BAM!" and "THUD!" He collapsed onto the ground, a notable amount of pain encompassing his head, and saw two blurry humanoid figures standing over him. One carried with him a long, thick object in his right hand.
"Dwalin," said a short, squat figure with a white beard and red hood. "Why have you called all of us together?"
A figure with a blue beard and contrasting green hood sat up in his wooden seat, fixing his golden belt. His bright eyes, stared at his brother-because it was indeed his brother-mournfully. He cast a glance around him, only ten of the original party of fourteen was gathered in this spacious room. "Balin, company, I regret to relay bad news, but it seems as though something horrible has happened. Bilbo has been taken."
Cries of outrage and shock filled the room, becoming steadily louder as each dwarf tried to make himself heard.
Dwalin quickly stood up to tower over the remaining seated dwarves. "I know you all have questions, and I will answer them. Allow me time to explain myself before you ask me anything else." They all quieted. "As I've said, Bilbo's been snatched; I've heard whispers and talks of a little hobbit, about age fifty, that a small number of goblins kidnapped not too long ago, maybe two days."
"We should go after him!" declared Bombur, jumping up as best as he could and pushing back his chair whilst he did it.
"Yes!" agreed Bifur and Bofur, also standing beside him.
"When do we leave," asked Gloin anxiously.
"As soon as we're able," replied Nori alarmed. Oin, Ori, and Dori were nodding their heads, rushing to pack items and objects needed in order to save their old comrade.
"Then it's decided."
"Aw, look at the poor little fellow; he looks absolutely terrified," chuckled a grating voice.
Poor little fellow, indeed. Bilbo was tied in winding strips of rope that covered his entirely small body from his feet to shoulders and had a blind and gag for his eyes and mouth respectively. He was sweating profusely, probably due to the fact he was place next to a huge fire pit which was currently in use.
Because of the echoic laughter surrounding him, he assumed they were in a cave of some sort. "Oh no!" thought Bilbo. "What if I'm in the Misty Mountains? Just my luck to be kidnapped by goblins a second time! The voice did sound like a goblin's."
In this manner, Bilbo was completely correct. They were in that dreadful mountain range. The behemoth fire was actually there for a reason besides for the purpose of tormenting (and to later cook) Bilbo. It was autumn in the mountains, and no sensible being would deprive itself of a fire if the means to make one were available.
How he got from his home in the Shire to the Misty Mountains within two days is anyone's guess.
"Hello, little hobbit. Chances are that you forgot about us, but we didn't forget about you. You were in the company that killed the Great Goblin and then destroyed almost all of our numbers at the Lonely Mountain. Now, we're going to have our well-deserved revenge."
"Short and straight to the point. Couldn't they have dragged this out?" Bilbo was not looking forward to whatever form of torture the goblins were planning, not knowing what was to come as he was not privy to whatever their diabolical minds have planned. His vocalizations were muffled though by the gag currently tied around his mouth.
"We're going to eat you."
Bilbo's well-formed (in his mind) sentences pleading for them not to harm him had turned into full-out begging as he pulled unceremoniously at his bindings. "They need to learn tact," Bilbo began to sweat more; this was not caused by the fire.
Unexpectedly, a shout sounded in the cave where Bilbo and his captives were. A group of ten arrived and began to spar with the goblins, which were too flabbergasted to do much except be killed.
Bilbo, being the pessimist, thought "What if it's another group of heinous creatures who want to eat me?"
Suddenly, the clashing stopped, and a multitude of voices rang out. "Bilbo!"
Bilbo sighed in relief. These voices were familiar to him. They belonged to Balin and Dwalin; Oin and Gloin; Ori, Nori, and Dori; and Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. He then smiled through the gag as well as he could: the company had come to save him! He was ecstatic, except for the fact that Thorin, Fili, and Kili weren't present. But, alas! This wasn't the time to grieve; he was being rescued from the evil clutches of goblins.
He felt the rope being pulled from his body as the knot was cut off and was being slowly untangled. Two other pairs of hands took off his blind and gag. He inhaled then exhaled shakily. This short, yet long, endeavor had tired him out. He just wished to go home to his pipe and teapot.
"How about that for excitement," Bilbo muttered wearily as he and the ten dwarves left the Misty Mountains to go to the Shire.