A/N:

What you need to know:

This is an AU.
It's based on a curious (yet quite sensible) mix of the books and the movies.
The first few chapters of the story will not deviate much from canon, but the story-line will later branch out, and gain a life of it's own.
I'm not altering Bilbo's personality completely, just giving him a backbone.
The m/m content will not come into play anytime soon.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Bilbo Baggins was a gentle, respectable kind of hobbit. Like most of his kin, he valued good food, good manners and good cheer above all - in that order. Which was why he was understandably appalled by the behavior of his most recent... guests.

'Is this really acceptable conduct in the rest of the world?' he wondered, wincing as yet another crash filtered through the closed kitchen door, followed by the disturbing sound of porcelain shattering on the floor. He hoped some of his late mother's china would survive the night, but was not motivated enough to brave the dining room and the uncouth group of dwarves occupying it just to save the admittedly ugly tableware, heirlooms or not.

Bilbo was more than happy to hide away in his kitchen for the time being - this way, at least, he could keep his cupboards from suffering the same fate as his pantry. Some of the dwarves had decided to raid his food stores when no snacks were forthcoming within the first two minutes of arrival. 'They haven't even waited for the tea', Bilbo thought with a sigh, staring at the pot sitting upon the stove balefully.

"Bilbo?"

The hobbit glanced up at the call, seeing Gandalf's large head poking through the doorway. "There you are! I wondered where you have disappeared to," the wizard said in a cheerful tone as he ducked inside. "Come now, don't sulk. The dwarfs can be a bit rowdy, but they're a good bunch."

The chiding remark did nothing to soothe Bilbo's rising temper. He swallowed down a sharp retort, as the old man continued, "Perhaps you could come along, and I will make some proper introductions? The last group's arrival was somewhat hectic after all. We're still missing a member, but we can start without him, I would think."

Bilbo rubbed his aching hip at the reminder. Landing under a pile of dwarfs, each at least twice his weight, had not been a comfortable experience. He would be turning black and blue within the hour. A questioning noise brought his focus back on Gandalf, who was looking concerned at Bilbo's silence.

"Is everything all right, my friend?"

Bilbo's patience snapped. "No, Master Gandalf, everything is certainly NOT all right," Bilbo gritted out, trying to stay calm. "Would you mind telling me why there is a group of thirteen people in my house, uninvited, without the barest hint of manners or a lick of decency? You have brought them here with nary a warning, and since the moment they have arrived, they have turned my home upside down, destroyed more than a few of my dead parents' belongings, stole a good portion of my winter stocks, and have been more than a little rude about it as well. So Gandalf, my good friend, I should hope you have enough common sense to tell that everything is not in the least all right," finished Bilbo shrilly.

The wizard's face fell the further Bilbo's rant progressed. By the end, the hobbit was happy to note some remorse in the aged lines of Gandalf's face.

"My dear hobbit," he began, but Bilbo's hopes for an apology were dashed as the rest of the sentence emerged. "I did attempt to tell you of the plan-"

"And I have been quite frank in my refusal to partake in any sort of mad adventure you have cooked up! I have turned you down, Gandalf, yet you invited yourself and your companions into my home, to my food, without my consent! The sort of disrespect you-"

Bilbo was cut off by a series of thundering knocks, the sharp raps echoing eerily through the smial. Bilbo's face turned crimson as it dawned on him how loud his voice had been. Had the dwarfs heard all that? Bilbo huffed. Well, if they heard - good! It may have been rude to speak of guests in such a way, but it was definitely deserved at this point. He was usually a gracious host, but stealing food and destroying his home was more than reason enough to put his reservations aside.

Sending a last glare at Gandalf, Bilbo pushed past his huge, hunched frame, and went to open the front door. He didn't know what he had expected, really, he had thought he was prepared for anything - what with all the dwarves previous - but the imposing frame and smoldering black eyes threw him a bit as his newest guest stepped inside. Especially since the owner of said dark eyes and intimidating presence was regarding him as if he was a nasty bug in a bowl of soup. Bilbo sighed. The situation was getting better and better.

Before anything could be said, the rest of the dwarves filed into the entrance hall led by Gandalf. The wizard jumped in with with an overly bright tone. "Thorin! Welcome, welcome," he said, ushering the dwarf with the sour face further in. Gandalf shot a pleading glance at Bilbo before gesturing in his direction. "This here is Bilbo Baggins, our host. Bilbo, this is Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thráin, Son of Thrór, Heir to the Line of Durin and the leader of our company."

Bilbo blinked. Durin? One of the seven dwarf Lords - if his memory served? A king? He stared at Gandalf, his expression blank. Bilbo could have been wrong, but he thought he saw the wizard gulp. His gaze was drawn to his royal guest though, as he stepped closer to Bilbo, his eyes measuring and obviously finding his host lacking.

"So this is the hobbit," he began with obvious disdain. "Say, Master Burglar, how will you be of use to us? Can you fight? What weapons do you wield? Swords? Axes?"

Bilbo tilted his head to the side. Burglar? Weapons? His gaze traveled to Gandalf, and followed a bead of sweat trailing down the man's temple. The silence in the room was thick enough to cut. His attention snapped back to the king when a derisive snort left the sneering lips.

"Well, Master Oakenshield, was it? Welcome to my home." Bilbo left his words to sink in for a moment or two before moving on. A chocked giggle from the gathering behind the wizard was the only reaction he got. He lifted an amused brow at the beardless youngster - Fili? Or Kili? - who shut up immediately. "And skills, you ask? Well, I wouldn't say I'm a particularly good fighter. I've never held a sword, though I would say my prowess with a kitchen knife is outstanding. I'm no thief however. Was there anything else you wished to know?"

The king snorted. "I'm not surprised. You look more like a grocer than a burglar."

Bilbo didn't let the remark bother him. He was a well-to-do gentle-hobbit after all, with an appropriate soft belly to suit his station, but he did notice the round dwarf flinch among the group at the harsh words. He sent a smile in his direction, then shrugged and patted his stomach.

"Yes, we hobbits value our food above all else. It is a sign of a good, proper home to have a properly round belly. For us, our food is our gold."

All the dwarfs in the hall shrank at his words. Some even looked ashamed. Bilbo frowned at them. What did he say?

"In any case," Bilbo picked up, "I think it is time for everyone to leave. It is getting late, and I am tired. I have already informed Gandalf I would not be going on an adventure. I thank you for the offer, but I must decline - again." He didn't offer the king any refreshments, because royal or not, Bilbo was no dwarf, thus not one of his subjects, and he would not stand for being insulted in his own home after everything he had already suffered that night. He just wanted them all gone.

"Adventure?" the king barked, indignant, just as Gandalf interrupted.

"Bilbo, please hear us out. And even if you decide not to come, at least let the company rest here for the night. We have a long journey ahead of us yet, and have nowhere to sleep for the night."

Bilbo groaned. The wizard was playing dirty. He had no desire to host this rude bunch, but he couldn't very well put them out into the cold night in good conscience. He sighed, scratching his neck in thought. After a second of hesitation he nodded to himself.

"Fine. They can spend the night. But I don't have enough guest beds to accommodate everyone." He turned to the group. "Would some of you mind sleeping on the floor? I will lay down some blankets, if that's acceptable."

Some grumbling ensued - rude dwarves! - but they did agree to the suggestion. Bilbo rolled his eyes as Gandalf ushered them all back into the dining room before the hobbit could change his mind. Bilbo was left standing alone in the entrance hall, groaning lowly. Blast his good manners!

- FM-

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold,

To dungeons deep, and caverns old,

We must away, ere break of day,

To seek our pale, enchanted gold."

'Well, that certainly put things into perspective,' thought Bilbo as he listened to the dwarves sing. What, exactly, did these dwarves want? To go home? Or their gold? Not that Bilbo didn't emphasize with them - in fact, he felt quite sorry for the group after they had told him their tale - but it was a thought worth pondering on; were they fueled by grief and a desire for home, or revenge and greed? Bilbo couldn't decide. And there was no way he was risking his life for the sake of their satisfaction if it was the latter.

Following their kings's arrival (and in no small part thanks to his loud row with Gandalf) the company had been much more subdued and polite - if that only barely - than before. Bilbo had offered them tea and good, hobbit-brewed mead, as well as a large tray of crackers when they had sat down to discuss their mission.

Listening to their plight had softened the hobbit, yes, but it hadn't won him over. They wanted Bilbo to face a dragon, for heaven's sake! "Why me?" Bilbo had asked, incredulous. After all, what could thirteen dwarves, a wizard and a hobbit do in the face of a dragon's might? It was insane. The answer turned out to be incredibly sad; they were the only ones who would come. No one wanted to help them, not even their own kin. That was what swayed Bilbo in the end. Yet the first question still stood; what on Earth could a single hobbit do? As expected, all of them had looked to Gandalf doubtfully.

The wizard remained adamant. Bilbo had to come, as he was important to the success of this quest. He would say no more on the matter, no matter the dwarves' or Bilbo's protests.

Bilbo had no idea what to do. Gandalf seemed convinced that it was vital for the hobbit to partake in their quest, yet Bilbo had doubts of the dwarves' motives. He didn't like them much either. The only ones remotely acceptable amongst the lot were the large one and the one with the weird hat. The youngsters were just that; youngsters, so Bilbo couldn't really remain angry with them, but the rest were not company he would voluntarily keep. Especially their leader. That man was just vile.

Hours passed as Bilbo got lost in his thoughts. All members of the group eventually retired to their designated beds or patches of floor, yet Bilbo couldn't shake himself out of his stupor. Sleep had fled his eyes as he agonized over his decision.

He didn't want to go, not at all. But it wasn't as simple as that. What if they failed to get their home back because a prissy, overly sensitive hobbit refused to help them? How could Bilbo live with himself if he heard news of their demise? Gandalf was so sure everything depended on the hobbit's presence, and who was Bilbo to contradict a wizard's word?

"Damn it all to Mordor and back," he muttered sullenly, and slid down from his perch on the windowsill. He stretched his cramped joints, shaking out his knees, his elbows, massaging his shoulder blades, and when he could stall no longer, he made his reluctant way over to the dining table. And there, rolled up neatly, sat the contract.

Bilbo gazed at it for what felt like hours before taking a shuddering breath, and reaching for the quill laid out in plain sight, waiting for him to sign his own death sentence. He unrolled the crisp, thin-cut animal-skin, and scanned the contents with practiced eyes. Gulping, he scribbled his name at the bottom with a flourish. It felt cathartic.

Bilbo staggered back, hardly believing what he had done. With a blank gaze he wobbled over to his bedroom, shed his over-clothes, and fell into bed. He was snoring within seconds.