At the sound of the dreadful bell, Bilbo looked at the boys in horror, but they just shrugged cheerfully. "That'll be the start," Fíli offered.
"The start?" Bilbo gasped. "There are more - more particularly skilled people coming to my home?"
At his look of near panic, Kíli sprang up, putting his hands out wide in reassurance. "Mr. Baggins, it's nothing bad. We don't mean any harm, and no harm will come to you." He exchanged a lightning-quick glance with his brother, and they nodded in unison. "Fíli and I will guarantee it." The bell rang again, with a hint of impatience, if that was possible. "Don't mind how they look," Kíli said quickly, and with an encouraging nod and smile, he sent Bilbo hurrying off down the stairs to meet his new guests.
There were two more men on the stoop, these also dressed in dark clothing - but their beards were enough to put young Fíli's to shame. Bilbo stood with his mouth open, unable to figure out how to offer welcome to such strange fellows. The first had a long, white beard that made Bilbo think he must be quite old indeed, while his companion had one of those hats with fuzzy ear flaps that Bilbo's aunties had delighted in giving him every Christmas when he was a child. The fellow with the hat gave him a crooked smile and took his hat off to wave it about in some form of greeting.
"Good evening?" Bilbo finally asked, though he was far from certain now.
"If you like," the hatted man said pleasantly. "I'm Bofur, and my friend here is Balin."
"I take it our young rascals have already arrived, and are likely eating you out of house and home?" the one called Balin asked, eyes twinkling in the gap between his bushy white eyebrows and his startling beard.
"You - you mean Fíli and Kíli?"
"Ah, then we are in the right place!" Bofur said. Without another word, the two men were past Bilbo and making their way up the stairs, already shrugging off their long, heavy black coats as they climbed.
"Wait!" Bilbo called uselessly, stopping to shut his front door, and then racing up behind the intruders. By the time he had emerged from the stairs, panting slightly, it was a cheery sight that met his eyes. The two older men were greeting his young visitors with a startlingly fond happiness, wrapping them up in warm embraces while hearty laughter filled the air.
"You've grown, lad!" Bofur told Kíli proudly, clapping hands on both of the youngster's shoulders. "I think you've passed up your brother now!"
"There's no saying I won't keep growing!" Fíli protested, looking deeply wounded. "Kíli takes after our mother, and uncle says they do their growing young on that side of the family."
Balin shook his head fondly, beard wagging. "Don't delude yourself, laddie." He put an arm around Fíli's shoulders, though he had to reach up a bit to do so. "Now, how about helping an old man to a nice cup of tea, eh?"
"Excuse me!" Bilbo interrupted, suddenly indignant. He had scarcely worked himself up to accepting Fíli and Kíli's presence in his home - and now there were four strangers in his tiny flat, apparently prepared for a gathering that he had not been informed about, and helping themselves to his tea! "Now, gentlemen, I'm afraid I must ask that you move along. I'd be delighted to - to join you for a pint. Another evening, perhaps?" He smiled, but it wavered, and he knew he must look desperate.
Bofur smiled at him gently. "You'll always find me up for a pint, but we're not often in these parts." He pulled out a pipe - a genuine pipe! - and started to poke at the bowl. "We've made a rather special trip to meet you."
"Me?" Bilbo turned around in a quick circle, then again, nearly hoping to find someone lurking behind him. "Why would you want to meet me? Surely there are other generous souls who will offer a free meal?" His voice trailed off as the four men burst into laughter, Fíli and Kíli pounding one another's backs in mirth.
"Laddie," Balin said after a moment, "there's a great deal we cannot tell you yet. Not until we are all gathered. But I will tell you this." He leaned in close, eyes dark and intent. "You cannot begin to imagine what is happening here."
Bilbo stared back, his mouth dropping open a bit. "You - I -"
The bell rang again, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach. Balin shook his head, looking sympathetic. "You don't much look in the mood for another surprise, Mr. Baggins. Fíli, lad, run let them in."
Bilbo found himself escorted to his most comfortable armchair by Bofur, who pressed a mug of tea into his hands. "You may need a bit of fortification," he warned, not unkindly.
"More visitors?" Bilbo murmured, feeling a cold sweat break out on his palms. "I haven't even got enough tea to go around."
"And you the proprietor of that fine shop downstairs?" Kíli inquired, appearing suddenly at his elbow with a gentle grin. "Mr. Baggins, I do believe we could find everything you might need for entertaining in a grocery of such inestimable quality."
"Yes, well," Bilbo blinked at the boy, a flush of pride pinking his cheeks. "It's a family business you know. Quite well reputed in the area."
"And I can see why!" He grinned, a dimple forming in one cheek. "Let me solve your problem here, sir. I'll nip down to the shop and fetch up everything we need, and we'll see to it that you get the full worth of your goods before we leave."
And before Bilbo knew what he was doing, he was handing the keys to his shop over to a stranger and explaining where the best biscuits and cheese could be found. One part of his brain was screaming in protest, demanding to know what he thought he was doing - but most of the rest was just grateful for the assistance.
Kíli took off down the stairs at a wild gallop, narrowly avoiding knocking his brother down as he escorted two more guests into the room - these the wildest and most alarming yet. The first was a giant of a man whose bald head was littered with tattoos. His gigantic fists were covered in fingerless leather gloves; in fact, he seemed to be covered in leather head to toe. A biker, then, Bilbo decided with an internal moan of dismay. His companion was scarcely less terrifying, though he could also have been part of a biker gang. What was most terrifying was the thick, knotted scar across his forehead, which cut up through the receding hairline as though he had been hit in the head with an axe. Both men sported huge wild beards, which was rapidly becoming a theme, but for poor Kíli. Perhaps they were something of a gang, he thought weakly, and clutched his tea for comfort.
They barely stopped to nod terse greetings to Bilbo before they were embracing Bofur and Balin. Fíli had vanished for a moment, and he and Kíli reappeared in a moment, laden down with arms full of goods from Bag End, and his flat was suddenly awash in movement and noise. His unexpected visitors were a whirl of motion as they grabbed dishes from cupboards, loading them down with food and drink as the lads continued to haul up more food than Bilbo could have imagined selling in a week.
"That'll be Dwalin there," Bofur said comfortably, perching on the arm of Bilbo's chair with a friendly lack of discomfort. "Him with the shiny head - and would you believe he's old Balin's brother? And the other fellow is my own cousin Bifur." He leaned in, close and conspiratorial. "Just between you and me, I wouldn't try talking much to him. He's not right in the head, poor fellow." He sniffed experimentally at his drink, then took a huge gulp. "May even bite."
When the bell rang again, Bilbo didn't bother to object - just waved Fíli off down the stairs with a hand that trembled gently, and tried hard to remember where he had left his mobile. He sank back further in his chair as five new faces appeared up the stairs - all male, all impressively bearded, and all ridiculously noisy, to judge from the roar that went up as the first set of visitors met the second set.
Bofur had wandered off to greet the newcomers, so Bilbo grabbed at the first almost-familiar sleeve that moved past him, and Fíli dropped to one knee beside his chair, waiting respectfully to see what he needed.
"Who are all these people?" Bilbo asked frantically. "I've completely lost control of the situation here!"
Fíli laughed. "That's more than common around this lot. Those three there, all in grey, they're brothers - Dori, Nori, and Ori."
Kíli appeared next to his brother, dropping a hand on his golden head. "We reckon their mother couldn't keep them straight, and so went with rhyming names to keep it easy."
"Like you can talk," one of the newcomers said from behind them, placing a hand on the back of each boy's head and shoving them forward sharply. He wore what Bilbo thought was a policeman's jacket. "Fíli and Kíli, and your own uncle wouldn't be able to choose between you if it weren't for the coloring."
They grinned at that. The two didn't look much alike, but their smiles carried the same joyful spirit, and Bilbo smirked into his tea as their jab was turned around on them.
"And this fine gentleman is called Gloin," Fíli continued, both boys dropping him deep, playful bows. "He's got a son about our age, but he won't let us socialize lest we corrupt young Gimli and lead him off the primrose path." Kíli looked sincerely wounded at that comment, and Fíli clutched his brother's right arm with one hand, cleared his throat, and moved along. "And his brother is about here someone - Oin, he's called, but he's hard enough of hearing that he'll nod pleasantly and pretend to have heard you no matter what you say."
"So that's -" Bilbo counted quickly on his fingers, then repeated the count. "Eleven. Eleven visitors in one evening? I don't even think this building is licensed to hold that many!"
"And more to come, Mr. Baggins!" Kíli said joyfully, jumping to his feet and waving expansively around the room. "The whole family, all in one place! That hasn't happened in years!"
"Bombur will be here any minute," Fíli added, eyes sparkling with mischief. "We'd better go for more crisps, Kíli my lad." The two were off in a shot, leaving Bilbo gasping like a fish on dry land at the idea of still more guests.
Bombur, as Bilbo was introduced to him not five minutes later, was a man of particularly impressive girth; Bilbo thought his expensive-looking suit must have been custom made for him. He was struggling to place the man's face, feeling certain he had seen it before - until Bombur spoke, and his rich, plummy tones made Bilbo start in recognition.
"But you're-"
"Don't say it!" Bofur warned, a hand going over Bilbo's mouth in an instant. "We all know who he is, but shouting about it won't do our cause much good."
"But you're an MP!" Bilbo protested, breathless.
"And my brother to boot," Bofur said, elbowing his gigantic brother in the stomach. "You'll please call him Bombur for now. We can't have it getting around that he's associated with the likes of us."
With now a full dozen strangers in his flat, the party seemed to reach a full swing, and Bilbo sat mournfully in his armchair as bits of food and splashes of beer hit his carpet, and the wild band of visitors threatened to crack every plate with their wild gesticulations. They didn't seem able to speak a single word in normal tones - and the volume only grew louder and louder as alcohol was put away in frightening quantities. At one point, Bilbo saw Kíli with a beer in hand, until it was confiscated in one of Dwalin's giant fists.
"I don't think so, laddie," the giant growled, sounding almost fond. "You may be all but feral, but you'll not be drinking before you're of age while I've got any say in it."
"I'll be eighteen in less than a month," Kíli protested, scowling furiously. "And it's not like I've never had a pint!"
"Don't let your uncle catch you saying that," Dwalin remonstrated. He dropped a benedictory hand on Kíli's dark head. "And haven't you grown up too fast already?" There was a surprising sorrow in the fearsome man's face, and Bilbo felt a tug at his heartstrings. He looked around the group, trying to see them with eyes unhindered by the slight terror which still gripped him. They were a strange and ragged lot, and though they seemed cheerful enough to pass for a pub full of happy football fans whose team was winning, there were more wary glances at the door and windows than he could count, and an air of watchfulness lay under all of their joviality. And the amount they had eaten - Fíli and Kíli had seemed worst off, but it was clear that several of these men hadn't had a decent meal in a while.
When the doorbell went again, Bilbo dropped his head into his hands with a groan. Fíli and Kíli managed to knock one another over in their scuffle to be the first down the stairs to greet the new arrival, and Bilbo prayed quietly that perhaps it was the police come round to tell them to quiet things down. He was startled, more than anything, when it was the ragged grey clothes of old Gandalf that appeared slowly at the top of the stairs. The man made his way into the room with no great haste, leaning on Fíli's patient arm for assistance as he finished the climb up the steep steps. At the sight of him, Bilbo found the strength to jump to his feet at last, and pushed his way through the intimidating crowd to glare up at the old man, arms firmly crossed over his chest.
"What, pray tell, is the meaning of all this?" Bilbo demanded loudly. The noise of the rest of the party dropped suddenly, leaving him facing Gandalf in the midst of a circle of interested faces. Kíli peeked over Gandalf's shoulder eagerly, and Bilbo realised he was now completely surrounded by people he hadn't known two hours ago, stranded in the middle of his own flat.
"This, my dear Bilbo, is the first meeting of what will hopefully become an exceptionally successful and prosperous business venture." He gestured around the room, taking in all of the strange men - from Bifur's cross-eyed wildness to Ori's cuddly cable-knitted jumper, encompassing the wide eyes and hopeful grins of young Fíli and Kíli. "And these fine fellows are the Sons of Durin."
Bilbo felt the floor give a lurch beneath him as he heard those words, and there was suddenly a dragon sitting on his chest, he was sure, from the lack of oxygen he was able to take in. "The - the Sons of Durin?"
"Aye!" Kíli said brightly, shoving in through the group to stand at his brother's side. "It's a family venture, you see!"
"Mostly family," Fíli added.
"No, no, wait," Bilbo insisted, trying to think. "The Sons of Durin are - they're terrorists! Or mafia! Or something! They blow things up and steal and murder and - and - and they're a public nuisance!"
"That," Bofur said firmly, "is false advertising."
"We're not killers - not when we don't have to be," Balin told Bilbo gently. "And the rest of it - well, you'll have to hear us out. There's a great deal you don't yet know, laddie."
"I -" Bilbo said frantically, feeling the room spin as thirteen sets of eyes watched him intently. They weren't denying the charge - not even the MP in the group, nor the policeman. They were serious. They were the Sons of Durin. "Excuse me," he murmured carefully, and pushed his way through the crowd to the bathroom, where he pushed the door closed with quiet precision, and then was carefully and quietly sick.
The most dangerous domestic terror group in Scotland was currently standing in his living room, drinking his beer, and Bilbo was half a flat away from his mobile phone. He sank down with his back to the door, holding it closed, and brought his knees up to his chest, hugging them for comfort. The Sons of Durin had invaded, and Bilbo Baggins was sitting in the toilet being sick. That sounded about par for the course.
This is delightful fun for me, I have to admit! I've got a pretty clear idea of where I'm going to take this, and there is so much fun (and mountains of angst!) ahead! I'd love to hear your thoughts and reactions! Thank you for taking the time to read!
N.B. - reposted chapter to correct an embarrassing mistake, with sincere thanks to Nettik for the tip!