So, that bit about waiting a while between posting chapters? I'm afraid I never have been the most patient of creatures, but with Smalls this excited, we were both too eager to post the next bit to bother waiting any longer. So, consider this our gift to you! Happy holidays everyone!

Theme song - Sleepsong by Bastille


Bilbo took a step back from the table and looked it over with a critical eye. Every bit of its surface, aside from the inch or two surrounding each of the three place mats, was covered in food. He had plates of sliced cheeses and cold cuts, of course, as well as three sorts of bread. He had a handful of condiments at the far end, as well as some summer sausage, and a great bowl of fruit salad rested just beside a great bowl of potato salad. There was a bowl of crisps and a bowl of chips – no telling which his guests might have a preference for – and a jar of Mister Gamgee's famous pickles. There was a basket of biscuits in the center of it all, but he'd thrown them together yestermorning, so they weren't as recently made as he would have liked. He preferred to be a bit more decadent with the food he served when he entertained, but he didn't exactly have the time to correct that this moment.

It wasn't the worst spread he could've managed, Bilbo nodded to himself. It would do.

He moved to the window to see how much had changed and let out a pleased huff.

Across the street, not even bothering to be discrete in her gawking, was Lobelia Sackville-Baggins – meddling, insufferable cunt – who was holding her vidcom up so that the poor soul at the other end could see the current subject of her ire.

A fleeting glance might imply that she was upset with Bilbo Baggins, as it was in his direction the vidcom was pointed, and on any other day this might've been true. The rivalry between himself and the covetous old biddy had been around since they were both old enough to attend nursery together. On their very first day of classes, Lobelia had demanded the wooden frying pan that Bilbo had been playing with. He had explained, politely, that he was not yet done playing with it, but that she could have it after he'd finished. The brat proceeded to try to take the toy from him, so he let her have it – right across her face. Neither of them had forgiven the other since then.

Shaking himself from the memory, Bilbo shifted so that he could better see the actual subjects of Lobelia's wrath … well, for today, at any rate. Two young men – blonde and brunette and neither out of their teens – sat on the curb just a little ways down from Bilbo's home. Their backs were to him, so he couldn't see much of their faces, but they wore their hair long and their clothing was cut a bit differently. It was enough to mark them as strangers to Bag End Row, but not to Bilbo – not completely.

He had noticed that the two had taken to their perch just before luncheon, but now luncheon was almost finished and they still hadn't moved on. There was nothing wrong with where they were taking their rest, of course. A public park flanked one side of Bilbo's home, and at this time of day the shade from the trees reached all the way to the street and the breeze, if it was present, was known to be cool and sweet-smelling. Quite the pleasant place to catch one's breath, if one was so inclined.

Lobelia, though, could not tolerate such actions. She seemed to be of a mind that having outsiders on her street was as scandalous as wearing socks with sandals - which meant that it was the local watch that Lobelia was harassing at the moment, the poor souls. Still, valid complaints or no, the watchmen wouldn't be able to refuse her the courtesy of at least passing by, and who knew what sort of distress that might cause the two lads.

So Bilbo Baggins stood before the door of his home, gave his vest a bit of a tug and ran a hand through his sand colored hair. He frowned for a moment – must visit the barber's again soon – and shook his head at himself. He conjured up a look of amused exasperation and marched out his front door with a sense of purpose.

He approached the two boys directly and watched their reactions as he did.

The blonde noticed him first, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His pale eyes moved up and down the street at a leisurely pace, but widened as soon as he caught sight of Bilbo. His lips moved soon after that, but none of what he said carried further than to his companion and Bilbo was not skilled enough to pick the words off his lips.

The brunette – in his mid-teens, perhaps a year or two younger than the blonde – rested between Bilbo and his friend, sprawled along the curb as if it were the most comfortable bit of grass in all of Middle-Earth. His dark eyes flew open at whatever it was the blonde said, but he nodded and didn't bother to sit up until Bilbo was almost upon them.

The younger of the boys broke out into a playful grin – knew he was cute, the bugger, and not shy about using it to his advantage – while the older of them offered a curious, if reluctant, smile –worried about what sort of trouble they were about to get into and how difficult it would be to slip out of– as Bilbo slowed his stride. It was their eyes that gave them away, though, and only, Bilbo supposed, because he had so very many cousins, young and old alike, and was so very popular among them. He could see, for example, the slight tightness that they both wore in the corners of their eyes, as well as the way the two shifted just a touch closer together now that he was so near.

The lads had been living rough, then.

Bilbo had been hoping that it was just a bit of mischief they'd been up to the other day, when he'd caught sight of them in the markets, but it didn't look to be so. It was enough to make anyone sigh and shake their heads at the injustice of things, but that would have to wait for later.

He waited until he stood before both the young men - a bit in the street, actually - before he planted his hands on his hips and gave the pair of them a look of mild reproach. He sent a brief prayer to the Valar that the lads were as quick of mind as they were of hand and opened his mouth.

"And what is the meaning of this? You've given me quite a fright, I'll have you know! I've had luncheon ready and waiting since a quarter to one and here you are, lounging in the shade without a worry in the world while I worry myself sick over the pair of you losing yourselves or, Eru forbid, finding injury on your way here."

The sound of a door opening came from behind him, followed by brisk footsteps. Bilbo rolled his eyes skyward and smirked at the young men. He had just enough time to catch a hint of understanding in their eyes that might've been an answer before Lobelia's shrill voice filled the air.

"Bilbo Baggins! You stay away from those two! They're hooligans and who knows what they're up to, lurking about the neighborhood so?" She came to a stop at the far edge of the street and narrowed her eyes at the boys as if she expected them to become violent at any moment. "I've already called for the watch – they'll be sending a patrol around and then we'll have these delinquents out of here." She sniffed delicately at these last words.

The brunette looked affronted at Lobelia's rant, but the blonde's eyes only grew harder. The older one was more likely to hold a grudge, then.

Bilbo turned so that he could see his cousin, putting the young men more to his back than might be wise, but he made sure that he showed no hesitation with the action. "You called for the watch?" He was sure to wear the particular expression that Drogo had assured him was just on the polite side of condescending. "Whatever for? Have you caught Lily Brandybuck's tom-cat in your azaleas again?"

Lobelia's eyes narrowed even further. "Whatever for?! I just told you 'whatever for'! These are ruffians and vagrants and criminals of the worst sort, I dare imagine! What other reason could they have for loitering about a peaceful place like this?"

Bilbo arched an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. "You mean other than to enjoy a pleasant day? Or to take in the sight of the Bag End Gardens, the same ones that plenty of tourists have made their way to our humble street for? Or," and here he cast another amused look at the youths, "perhaps they forgot the address they were given just two days ago and only remembered the street their gracious host lived on and the most distinguishing landmark that might have been mentioned with it?"

Both young men immediately offered protests, the brunette going so far as to offer a laughing "Of course we didn't forget where you lived, Master Boggins, it's only that this one might have left the note you gave us in his pants pocket when he sent it off for washing –" and of course, the blonde only redoubled his protesting and made a show of foisting the blame back to the younger of the two.

Excellent, they were both clever, then.

The quarrelling between the two – and really, they bickered so easily and so well that if they weren't related, they may as well be – was just loud enough that it overpowered anything else Lobelia might've offered in the way of accusation and lasted long enough that they were still in their stride when the watchmen pulled up.

The watchmen's vehicle was recently washed - the soft grey coloring gleamed and sparkled in the sunlight, and the District Shire seal was in exceptionally pristine condition. In fact, the wheels of the vehicle didn't seem to have any mud buried in the treads, either, and if Bilbo didn't know any better…

"Watchman Bolger! Watchman Cotton!" Bilbo allowed his smile to stretch until his face hurt. "Is that a new vehicle that you've been assigned?"

Adelard Cotton, the younger of the two watchmen and still prone to swelling with complements, puffed out his chest and grinned in return. "That t'is, Mister Baggins. Only ten new watch-wheels 'cross the whole of District Shire an' d'you know that three of 'em are staying right here in Hobbiton?"

"Oh, shut it, Cotton. No one likes a braggart." Rowan Bolger made a disgruntled noise, but the sparkle in his eyes matched the one in his partner's eyes.

Young Adelard made a sound of protest – and he probably could've kept the pair of men here for hours, if he pleased, just listening to them go on about their new prize – but an ugly sound came from Lobelia's direction and Bilbo thought it a wonder that she could still see anything, the woman's eyes were squinted so tight. The watchman's cheerful mood faded under her shrewish glare and he gave a bit of a tug on his uniform jacket, his face becoming more stern as he turned to Bilbo's horrible neighbor.

"Ah, yes, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins. What's the trouble, then?" His tone was polite even if his words were to the point.

"The trouble?!" Lobelia sputtered. "The trouble is there, sitting on that curb, just waiting for us to look away long enough that for them to deface someone's property or break into someone's home! Why, we're lucky we haven't been assailed where we stand, each one of us!"

It was Bilbo's turn to glare, now, and he leveled its full effects on the mad cow standing across the way. "Now, see here, Madam," he barely kept a proper sneer from his lips and, distantly, felt his right hand twitch in want of his Assistant. "These young men are my guests. They are here at my invitation and I will not stand for listening to the slandering of their character by the likes of you, Lobelia."

Lobelia sputtered again, but this time nothing intelligible was produced.

Still in their vehicle, the two watchmen seemed to be content with merely observing the pair – longstanding rivals that they were known to be – assault each other with words. The elder of them seemed rightly amused with the whole event, but the younger of them seemed a bit more nervous after Bilbo's retort and might've even flinched when Bilbo's hand gave that twitch earlier, if watchmen could be said to flinch.

Watchman Bolger gave his own throat a bit of a clearing before he spoke, "'Scuse me, please, Mister Baggins, but you say these two young men're your guests?"

Bilbo was no stranger to that look and that tone. Amused or not, Rowan wouldn't be leaving until received a better explanation. Bilbo nodded. "They are. Their parents were friends of my mother's, rest her soul, and they got to Hobbiton not half a week ago looking for work – you know how things tend to be outside of the district – and have been having a horrible time of finding it. The lads here, well, they're more than old enough to find mischief and still at that tender age when they'll happily eat a person out of house and home, so of course I offered the lot of them quarter at Bag End. Their parents begged off, but they were more than happy to send their offspring home with me. I'm more than happy for the company – plenty of chores and repairs for them to keep busy with – but I'm still trying to work out if they're repaying me for some sort of insult my mother might've slipped them, once upon a time."

The younger watchman snickered from his seat, but the elder only hummed and gave the boys an assessing look. "Where're they from?"

Bilbo rocked back on his heels and opened his mouth, but one of the young men – the older of the pair – beat him to speaking.

"District Ered Luin, Master Watchman." The blonde's tone was cautious, but courteous.

Watchman Bolger nodded, satisfied. Adelard seemed to be splitting his attentions between Lobelia and the two strangers, now that the threat of Bilbo's wrath – never mind that the Assistant was nowhere in sight - had retreated. Bolger continued. "And you're certain you can handle the two younglings on your own?"

"Oi!" an indignant squawk came from behind him and Bilbo chastised himself for forgetting the presence of the two young men, even briefly. As it was, it took all his self-control to not jump at the sudden interjection. "We're old enough to have as good as reached maturity –"

"Some of us have already reached maturity, thank you, kindly."

"And we're certainly not younglings!"

Bilbo said nothing but gave a partial turn and offered a raised eyebrow of his own at the pair, which seemed to cow them for the moment. Their acting was quite believable. He'd have to remember to insist they stay at least long enough for him to bake a proper treat for them before they went on their way – clever minds like theirs should be encouraged whenever possible.

Rowan hid his laughter with a bit of an indignant huff and shook his head. "Well, then." He met Bilbo's eyes briefly and chuckled again. "It seems we've not but a simple misunderstanding then."

"You mean to say that you won't be arresting them?!" Lobelia seemed to have found her words again.

Watchman Bolger turned his gaze back to the Sackville-Baggins with a skeptical look. "Have you seen them doing anything I should be arresting them for?"

Bilbo thought that if Lobelia scowled any harder that her face would probably stick.

"They – they've been loitering! And – and – and they've been, oh what's the word? They've been trying to figure out which houses to rob… casing! They've been casing all the houses up and down this street, have been all morning." She gave a huff and another indignant sniff, giving the hem of her blouse a proper tug.

The watchman turned his gaze back to the two strangers, and the blonde shook his head. "No, sir, Master Watchman. We meant to arrive in time for luncheon, but we got a bit turned around with the numbering of the houses and thought we'd take a rest until we came up with a better idea for finding Master Boggins. We'd been resting about an hour, I think, when he found us again, mayhap it's been closer to two now, though." His tone was respectful, if a touch embarrassed.

Watchman Bolger nodded again. "There's nothing wrong with the lads taking their rest on the curb, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins, and I'd appreciate it if you gathered a bit more evidence before you went about accusing tourists of being criminals." There was a hard glint to his eyes now and a reproaching tone to his voice "It's folk that make accusations like that what've convince outsiders that we're not but a bunch of fussy, intolerant homebodies."

Lobelia offered another bunch of sputtering –this batch no more comprehensible than the last – and this was when Bilbo decided that perhaps the last word should be had by him.

"I am glad to find you here, though, Masters Watchmen." He spoke to the two in the vehicle, but kept his gaze locked firmly on that of his despised neighbor. "You see I find myself missing a number of spoons, two forks and a butter knife. They're made of silver, you see, a wedding gift my mother received that she was quite attached to, and I don't think I've seen any hint of them since cousin Otho and Mrs. Sackville-Baggins here invited themselves to tea." He paused and tapped a forefinger against his lip in mock speculation. "Say, Lobelia, you wouldn't happen to recall where they might've happened to, would you?"

Lobelia didn't even bother with trying to reply this time, only gathered herself together and scuttled back into her home, muttering something about the state of the District Shire watch and scandalous cousins.

The moment her front door closed, the two strangers-turned-guests burst into laughter and poor Adelard wasn't far behind them, although he had the decency to look chagrined after a stern look from Rowan. Rowan looked amused as well, though, even as he leveled an assessing look over the odd group – glancing over Bilbo first, and then the two strangers, before pulling his gaze back to Bilbo.

"I take it you'll be taking responsibility for them, then, Mister Baggins?"

Bilbo nodded easily, as if the thought had not occurred to him that he wouldn't. "Of course, Master Watchman."

Rowan allowed himself a small smirk and, after a few minutes more of trading idle bits of gossip, the two watchmen left Bilbo alone with the strange pair of boys.

Once the vehicle was properly out of sight, and mindful that the whole of the neighborhood was likely watching their every moment, Bilbo turned back to his guests.

"Well," he crossed his arms across his chest again and raised an eyebrow, although he didn't bother trying to hide his grin. "Into the house with the pair of you, then."