Hell yeah, writing! It's gonna be great, wooo *write OC fiction*
Well, here it is! First story ever published, and it's a Thorin/OFC! because there aren't enough of those amirite guys. It's a mixture of book and movie canon, but admittedly mostly movie because A) I just rewatched An Unexpected Journey and I was blown away, and B) it has been forever and a day since I read the book. I have taken some liberties, but hopefully they work within the established canon. I'll be trying to update at least once a week.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or places in the established Hobbit canon. They are the property of the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. I only own my OC and those characters or places associated with her.
On we go!
Bilbo Baggins was not having a pleasant evening.
And the day had started off so well! The incident with the wizard was unsettling, of course, but he had moved on. He had no appetite for adventures; Bilbo thought he had made that quite clear to the wizard, and hadn't seen hide nor hair of him the rest of the day. Bilbo had been all set for a nice, quiet dinner at home, and then not one, not two, but four dwarves had invaded! And what were they doing with his cabinet?!
"We'll never get everyone in!" Balin grunted as he carried the cupboard out of Bilbo's dining room, Fili coming to his aid.
"Wait, wait! How many of you are there?" Bilbo yelped, his question going unheard by the dwarves in his dining room. The sound of his doorbell ringing for the fourth time that evening made his stomach drop. "Oh, no. No!" He turned on his heel, marching down the long hallway to his door. "There is nobody home!" He cried, discarding the weapons Fili had passed to him. "Go away and bother someone else! There are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is! If this is some clothead's idea of a joke..." He laughed, realizing somewhere in the back of his mind that it was not a particularly sane sound. "Then I can only say that it is in very poor taste!"
He yanked open the door to his hole - and stepped back in surprise when a veritable wave of dwarves fell in, one on top of the other. Dismayed, Bilbo could do nothing but stare uncomprehendingly at the groaning pile of dwarves until the figure of a tall, gray-cloaked man peered inside. Sparing a glance at the dwarves, he looked up, offering Bilbo a small smile of greeting.
"Gandalf," Bilbo sighed, exasperated. The wizard nodded; to his credit, he did look somewhat abashed. Dwarves were not easy to entertain, especially on one's first time dining with them. But the experience would do Bilbo good in the long run, Gandalf was sure of it.
At the moment, though, Bilbo couldn't see how any good could come of this at all. The new dwarves had joined the previous four in the decimation of Bilbo's pantry, ignoring his meager protests. Bilbo was standing in the middle of a torrent of dwarves, most of whom were carrying off furniture and food. "A bit excessive, isn't it?" He called, seeing a plump dwarf laden with three wheels of cheese. "Have you got a cheese knife?"
Another dwarf chuckled, and Bilbo blinked incredulously at the bizarre hat he wore. "Cheese knife? He eats it by the block!" He said as he carried Bilbo's ham off into the dining room. Deflating, Bilbo watched him go for a moment before a grey-haired dwarf pushed past him. Indignation filled Bilbo; that chair was an antique!
"Put that back!" He warned, pointing back to one of his other rooms. The dwarf shook his head.
"I can't 'ear you!" He replied, and hobbled off to set the chair at the table. After his moment, Bilbo let his arm drop limply to his side. The dwarves around him carried on with their preparations, setting the table with help from Gandalf. The wizard declined Dori's offer of tea, instead requesting a little red wine, and slipped into the hallway to count heads.
"Fili, Kili... Balin, Dwalin... Oin, Gloin... Bifur, Bofur, Bombur... Dori, Nori, Ori!" Gandalf finished, watching as Bilbo ripped a basket of tomatoes from the youngest dwarf. Unsatisfied with his count, the wizard grumbled, "We appear to be one dwarf short..."
"He is late, is all. He traveled North to a meeting of out kin. He will come..." Dwalin offered, always the first to step to his king's defense. He punctuated his statement with a long swig of ale. Somewhat cheered, Gandalf drank his red wine, though it was, in fact, very little red wine. Dwarves could be quite literal creatures...
"And she's late as well..." he sighed, glancing around to make sure no one had heard his last comment. Luckily, the dwarves were far more interested in the food than anything he had to say. Before long, the food was piled high on plates and shoved into mouths, and the conversation was flowing.
Throughout the festivities, Bilbo could do little more than stand in the hall and wring his hands, flinching at the sight of flying food. He was so preoccupied with his worries that he didn't notice the blond dwarf, Fili, had taken to walking on the table, passing out ale. With a roar of, "TANK UP!" from Kili, the dwarves toasted and drank deeply, ale soaking their beards. A chorus of belches soon began, and the table cheered and laughed when the loudest and longest came from meek Ori.
And Bilbo's rage grew. As supper wound down and the food disappeared, he found the motivation to put a stop to this mess once and for all.
"Excuse me! That is a doily, not a dishcloth!" He cried, affronted. Bilbo ripped the cloth as delicately as he could from the dwarf's thick fingers. He held it up to the light and couldn't hold back a sigh of relief when he saw that the fine cloth was undamaged.
"But it's all full of holes," commented the dwarf with the strange hat.
"It's supposed to look like that! It's crochet!" Bilbo snapped.
"Aye, and a wonderful game it is, too... If you've got the balls for it!" The dwarf teased, grinning at him. Bilbo shook his head and hid the doily in a nearby vase before pinching the bridge of his nose, which did nothing to help his headache.
"My dear Bilbo, whatever is the matter?" Gandalf asked, stooping to join his friend in the kitchen.
"Wh-What's the matter?" Bilbo sputtered, disbelieving. "I'm surrounded by dwarves! What are they doing here?!" He asked, more hushed this time after noticing a few curious stares sent his way. Gandalf chuckled, relieved that there was nothing seriously wrong with his small friend.
"Why, they're quite a merry gathering once you get used to them!" He said cheerfully, turning to watch as Nori and Bofur fought over a chain of sausages. Bilbo, still sputtering, pulled him farther from the dining room into the entrance hall.
"I don't want to get used to them!" Bilbo protested. "The state of my kitchen! There's mud trod on the carpet! They've pillaged the pantry! I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom, they've all but destroyed the plumbing! I don't understand what they're doing in my house!" His rage had reached its breaking point, and his voice broke with the final whisper. A small voice and the shuffle of feet were all that broke the silence that followed.
"Excuse me. I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?" Ori, the youngest and shyest of the company, asked. Bilbo knew that disaster was about to strike when Fili appeared, grinning mischievously. The quiet sound of rhythmic tapping came from inside the dining room.
"Here you go, Ori, give it to me!" Fili said, plucking the plate from Ori's hands and casually tossing it down the hall. Bilbo almost shrieked in horror, but cut himself off when Kili caught it and tossed the plate to Bifur in the kitchen, who caught it in turn. Fili neatly caught a storm of flying plates before tossing them to his brother. Bilbo's protests went unheard as he ducked his flying dishes. The dwarves had struck up a steady rhythm, fists and boots pounding and cutlery scraping together.
"E-Excuse me, can you not do that? You'll blunt them!"
"Oh, do you hear that lads?" Bofur taunted. "He says we'll blunt the knives!"
"Blunt the knives, bend the forks!" Kili crowed.
"Smash the bottles and burn the corks!" Fili picked up the tune even as he caught and passed two plates.
"Chip the glasses and crack the plates, that's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" the rest of the dwarves joined the song.
"Cut the cloth, tread on the fat! Leave the bones on the bedroom mat! Pour the milk on the pantry floor, splash the wine on every door!" the dwarves sang. Dishes flew to-and-fro, somehow ending up in neat stacks that traveled into the kitchen. Bilbo watched open-mouthed in horrified astonishment, waiting for a crash and shatter that never came.
"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl! Pound them up with a thumping pole! And when you're finished, if they are whole... Send them down the hall to roll!" The sound of instruments drew Bilbo out of his stupor and he peered into the dining room to see the dwarf with the hat playing a small clarinet. The tattooed dwarf, Dwalin, had produced a lute, and the grey-haired dwarf from earlier appeared to be puffing on a teapot.
The song came to a thundering conclusion with a final chorus of, "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" Flushed with embarrassment, Bilbo stared at the pile of cleaned and stacked dishes at the center. The laughter of the company (and Bilbo swore he heard a shout of "Look at his face!") did nothing to assuage his embarrassment. However, all sound in the room seemed to stop when three knocks resounded.
Much to Bilbo's confusion, the dwarves had sobered instantly, and even Gandalf looked uncommonly serious. "He's here," the wizard said gravely. As one, the dwarves filed out into the hall, Bilbo drifting behind, uncertain. The sudden change in atmosphere had him worried; but as he was the master of the house, it was his duty to welcome the newest arrival. So, swallowing a lump in his throat, he stepped forward and pulled open the door.
Were it anyone else at the door, Bilbo might have felt more irritation at yet another uninvited dwarf at his door. But this dwarf was different; even disregarding the way all movement from the company stilled with his arrival, the dwarf had a stately air to him.
"Gandalf," he greeted the wizard. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way twice..." This drew some muffled snickering from the rest of the party. "I would not have found it if not for the mark on the door," he finished, stepping inside and undoing the clasp of his cloak. Bilbo straightened, curiosity piqued by the odd statement.
"Mark? There is no mark on the door; it was painted a week ago!"
"There is a mark, Bilbo. I put it there myself!" Gandalf interrupted, pretending not to notice the glare he received. Casting a glance out the door for some trace of his surprise guest, he found none, and turned back to the assembly. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." The hobbit turned to look at the aforementioned dwarf, who did not look too impressed.
"So, this is the hobbit..." Thorin murmured, studying the small figure. Bilbo swallowed and tried not to fidget under his gaze. Trying to avoid the rather intimidating dwarf's eyes, he looked over his shoulder instead. There was a certain resemblance between the new arrival and the twin dwarves; not close enough to be father and sons, but definitely related.
"Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?" The dwarf asked, circling him.
"Pardon me?" Bilbo squeaked.
"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" Thorin asked impatiently. Bilbo blinked, confused. Hobbits were peaceful folk, and he could hardly remember ever seeing a weapon, much less using one.
"Well, I do have some skill at conkers if you must know... but I fail to see how that's relevant," he murmured.
"Thought as much," Thorin remarked stonily. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." The gathering of dwarves chuckled quietly, but Bilbo couldn't help but feel a bit hurt by the comment. Soon enough, the dwarves had situated themselves at his dining room table once again.
"What news from the meeting at Ered Luin?" Balin began. Bilbo listened from his spot behind Gandalf as Thorin detailed the support from the Iron Hills. The dwarves looked cheerful at the news until Dwalin thought to ask about their cousins in Dain.
"They will not come..." Thorin said. Bilbo thought he detected a note of disappointment in his voice, and there was a collective wave of distress throughout the company. Gandalf sat back and puffed on his pipe contemplatively, but took no part in the discussion. "They say this quest is ours and ours alone."
"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo cut in. As a response, Gandalf asked him for a bit more light and as Bilbo slunk away, Gandalf retrieved a faded parchment from the folds of his robe and laid it on the table. Bilbo stepped forward, candle in hand, and peered down at what he now saw was a map. "The Lonely Mountain..."
"Aye! Oin has read the portents and the portents say it is time!" Gloin added, banging his fist on the table for emphasis.
"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold..." Oin began elaborating on the meaning of ravens, most of which meant nothing to Bilbo. He was turning back to his (empty) pantry to sulk when he caught the word "beast."
"Well, what beast?"
Gandalf turned to look at Bilbo, taking a pull from his pipe. "Er, that would be a reference to Smaug the terrible!" Bofur called from his spot beside Thorin. "Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age! Airborne fire-breather... teeth like razors... claws like meat hooks... extremely fond of precious metals!"
"Yes, I know what a dragon is, thank you!" Bilbo snapped, ignoring the sudden stab of fear that came with Bofur's words.
"I'm not afraid!" Ori cried, standing from his place beside his brothers. "I'll give him a taste of dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!" This proclamation gained a mixed reaction from the company, caught between hilarity and dissent. Fili and Kili in particular found it funny that the youngest dwarf in the company would make such a bold statement. And he was always so quiet and unassuming, too!
With a whispered reprimand from his brothers, Ori took his seat again and the meeting went on. Balin interjected with, "The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us! But we number just thirteen, not thirteen of the best nor brightest..." This comment drew some ire from the dwarves. Gandalf, in the fashion typical of all mysterious old wizards, just smiled and puffed on his pipe without a word.
Bilbo was a bit surprised when the first to speak again was Fili, seeing as he and his brother seemed much younger than the rest of the company. Kili piped up next, pointing to Gandalf as someone who must have slain hundreds of dragons, which threw the dwarves into a frenzy. Gandalf choked on his pipe smoke and muttered something inaudible when Dori demanded a number.
Outside, the lightning flashed and rain came down in sheets, but the cacophony inside drowned out the raging storm. Bilbo wasn't quite sure what had set them off in the first place, but the bickering came to a halt when Thorin grew tired of the argument and roared "ENOUGH!"
In the quiet that followed, all eyes were on their king, who appeared ready to speak. But it was not Thorin who broke the silence.
Once again, the doorbell rang.
