Dwarves. In a word: stubborn. But that's only because 'as hard-headed as the rocks they were formed from' is too much of a mouthful to say. They've been plagued by dragons longer than Hobbiton has existed. Most people would give up and move somewhere less… attractable to dragons. But not dwarves. They'd rather fight the dragons every day of their lives then give up one inch of land.
Their current king is Thrain son of Thror. They say that when he was young he tied two dragons necks together with his bare hands. I totally believe it too.
Every year the young dwarves of Ered Luin are trained up in dragon slaying. It's an honor and a privilege. If you're a dwarf.
The room was low by the standards of men with a great iron chandelier in the shape of a dying dragon presiding over a large table. On the other side of the table was King Thrain, flanked by any number of nobles who were not only better dressed than Bilbo, but infinitely better armed. Bilbo felt more nervous the longer she stood under the stern gaze of the king. He had finished reading her grandfather's letter then spent the last few minutes staring hard at her. The rest of the dwarves in the room did the same.
"Very well," he finally said. "You will train with my children."
The dark haired dwarf in blue standing next to the throne gave a startled jerk. Bilbo's attention was caught. She was strikingly beautiful. The dark blue tunic really brought out her blue eyes - eyes that were currently glaring at Bilbo with contempt.
Bilbo shuddered a little, abruptly looking away. No sense is admiring someone who already seemed to hate her.
Thrain gestured to his left, pointing at the beautiful dwarf. "This is my eldest daughter, Thorin." Thorin's glare only intensified. Thrain pointed further past Thorin. "And these are Frerin and Dis." The two dwarves were nearly identical despite the opposite genders. Both had blond hair, high cheekbones, beards that only barely qualified as beards rather than scruff, and straight, pointed noses. Dis had her hair in one thick braid while Frerin's was a mass of tiny braids, all pulled back behind his head. Bilbo hoped they never changed their hair styles because she wasn't sure she could tell them apart otherwise.
"I'm honored," she managed to say, though she was rather worried that Thorin was going to 'accidentally' slay her during their training. Did the dwarf practice that glare? Bilbo was surprised her clothes hadn't caught fire.
"That's settled then," said King Thrain. "Balin here," he gestured at short dwarf with a fluffy white beard, "will put you up while you train. Try not to die. I wouldn't want to harm our relations with Hobbiton." He winked, as he said it and everyone laughed. Bilbo laughed too, though hers had a distinctly nervous tinge to it. She thought back to her promise to her grandfather and of Myrtle, hidden in the woods nearby. Then she glanced at Thorin who was still staring at her with murder in her eyes. Bilbo had a feeling this was not going to end well.