None in this Wide World Chapter 3, a hobbit fanfic

Having received my new Bellowhead CD in the post, I was encouraged to write anot her chapter, and it feels really good to be publishing again, now the real life is a bit less busy.

I've come to appreciate Nori/Dwalin, so I might give that a go in this fic (prob ably not much more than flirting yet tho ugh, and it can just be interpreted as b anter if you prefer). The idea of what N ori did came from the story on AO3 'your axe to my throat, my knife to yours', w hich is a very good Nori/Dwalin story.

For those who're concerned about slow pl ot progression, I'll say this; the prope r main plot doesn't start until some tim e after the reclamation of Erebor, but a t the moment I'm setting the scene and g iving you important pieces of informatio n that you'll need to remember for later .

Enjoy the chapter

...

Bofur sat on the front porch of the house they'd been lent in Lake-town, smoking his pipe and watching the people that passed by. To his left sat Bifur and Ori, the former was whittling something (Bofur couldn't see what it was from where he sat), and the latter was rapidly scribbling on a piece of parchment.

Bifur grunted at a small mark he'd just made (though whether he was pleased or annoyed, Bofur couldn't tell), and Bofur looked up to see Ori watching him. The young dwarf quickly looked away.

"Ori, lad, is there something the matter ?"

Bofur was never one to beat about the bush, as they say.

"No."

"What is it then?"

"Do you think you could teach me some songs?"

"You mean to sing?"

"Aye, or to play – I can learn to play the whistle, or something else."

"Why d'ya want to learn?"

Ori blushed.

"Come, lad, you can tell me. I won't tell a soul."

The young dwarf nervously glanced toward s Bifur, who shook his head without look ing up.

"And neither will Bifur."

"Well...there's a lad back in the Blue Mountains, and...urm..."

"Is this lad your lad, by any chance?"

Ori nodded vigorously.

"And you want help wooing him?"

"Well, no – we're already...together...but he likes music, and I'm not much good at it."

Bofur smiled, "well I think we can sort that. Do you want love songs, or just any songs?"

"Just any songs, but I liked that one you played at Beorn's house."

"Which one?"

"About Jamie."

"Well, we can do that one – do you know the words?"

"Some of them."

"Oi, Bifur, will you give us a hand? Go get your harp."

Bifur replied with a flick of hands meaning 'in a minute', and Bofur set to finishing his pipe.

A few minutes later, a thought occurred to Bofur, just as his cousin rose to fetch his harp.

"Ori, does anyone else know about your l ad?"

Ori shook his head, braids bouncing. "If you mean my brothers, then no, they don 't know."

"Don't you think you should tell them?"

"Tell us what?"

Poor Ori jumped as Nori sauntered out on to the porch. No-one said anything.

"What should my little brother be telling me?"

Bofur held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I can't tell you – I'm sworn to secrecy."

Bifur held up his hands in the same way, and all eyes turned to Ori.

The young dwarf blushed red and tried to speak a couple of times before anything actually came out, but when it did, it sounded surprisingly confident.

"I've got a lad back in the Blue Mountains."

Nori smiled indulgently. "Is he good to you?"

"Aye."

"Then I'm happy for you, brother – there 's no reason to think I wouldn't be."

Ori smiled and, at the same moment, there was the crash of a door being thrown open.

"And I think that's my cue to leave."

Ori's eyes widened as he stared at his brother, but Bofur just laughed.

"What did you do this time, Nori?"

Nori grinned and held up what was unmist akably Dwalin's pipe, favourite pipeweed and boot-knife, before he leapt over the edge of the porch and hurled off down the street, stopping a safe distance away.

Less than a second later, Dwalin tore out of the front doorway and onto the porch, growling and glancing round.

"Lost something, Dwalin?" Bofur asked, in his usual cheery manner.

"That damned thief has my pipe, and my knife."

"Bilbo? He wouldn't do such a thing!" Bo fur did his best to look shocked.

"Not the burglar – the thief – his brother!" Dwalin gestured at Ori, who, given confidence by Bofur, decided to join in with the teasing.

"Dori?" Ori frowned, hoping his acting kills were up to par, and behind Dwalin' s back, Bifur stifled a laugh.

"For the love of Mahal! Nori's taken my pipe! Nori! Not anyone else!"

"He must like you then," commented Ori.

Dwalin looked at him in horror and Bofur was caught between staring in surprise as well and laughing so hard he'd fall ff his chair. He went for the former as best as he could.

"He only acts like this around people he likes," confirmed Ori, with a nod.

Dwalin stepped off the porch into the street and looked as if he was about to deny what Ori had said, when a loud wolf-whistle sounded a short distance away. Dwalin looked over and, on catching sight of Nori waving at him, took off with a roar.

The three on the porch couldn't contain their mirth anymore, and loud hoots of laugher rang down the street. When Bifur finally got up to get his harp, Bofur thought to ask Ori if Nori actually did like Dwalin, but Ori just shrugged and glanced away in the direction they'd run off in before.

Not long after, the music began, drawing out Bilbo, Fili, Kili, Gloin and Oin on to the porch, as well as a small audience of Lake-town residents. Luckily, Bofur didn't mind playing in front of an audience, so he sang as well as ever;

From noise and bustle far away
As I walked over each acre
I never knew what it was to sigh
Till I saw Betsy Baker

At a fair I met her dressed so neat
One Sunday in hot weather
With love I found my heart did beat
As we sang songs together

So modestly she turned her head
Though while her voice did quaver
I thought if I ever I could wed
'Twould be with Betsy Baker

When the fair was over
Out she went
But I did follow after
Determined I would not be balked
I spoke to Betsy Baker

But all my treaty she did slight
And I was forced to leave her
I got no sleep at all that night
For love had brought a fever

From noise and bustle far away
As I walked over each acre
I never knew what it was to sigh
Till I saw Betsy Baker

At last she got acquainted
With a ramping, mad play actor
He gammoned her to run away
And I lost Betsy Baker

Although I strived another way
My heart will never forsake her
I dream all night and think all day
Of cruel Betsy Baker

From noise and bustle far away
As I walked over each acre
I never knew what it was to sigh
I never knew what it was to sigh
I never knew what it was to sigh
Till I saw Betsy Baker

Noise and bustle far away
As I walked over each acre
I never knew what it was to sigh
Till I saw Betsy Baker

Bofur finished with a little musical twiddle on his whistle, then sat back and smiled at the applause.

He and Bifur then played a few dancing r eels, as well as Fili on his fiddle, and no-one was surprised when Kili began to dance, pulling the hobbit over to dance with him.

When they were done, it was Gloin who began the next song, a nonsense drinking song that made a few people laugh.

Some mates and I in a public house
Were playing dominoes last night
When all of a sudden in the pot-man came
With his face all chalky white
"What's up?" says Brown. "Have you seen a ghost?"
"Have you seen your Aunt Mariah?"
"Me Aunt Mariah be blown," said he.
"The bloomin' pub's on fire!"

Oh there was Brown, upside down
Knocking back the whiskey on the floor
"Booze, booze," the firemen cried
As they came knocking at the door
Oh don't let 'em in till it's all mopped up
Somebody shouted "MacIntyre!"
And we all got blue blind paralytic drunk
When the Old Dun Cow caught fire

Old Johnson rushed to the port wine tub
And gave it just a few hard knocks
He started taking off his pantaloons
Likewise his shoes and socks
"Hold on," said Tibbs, "If you want to wash your feet
There's a tub of old ale here
Don't wash your feet in the port wine tub
When we've still got some old stale beer "

Just then there came such an awful crash
Half the bloomin' roof gave way
We were doused with a fireman's hose
But still we were all gay.
So we got some sacks, and some old tin tacks
And we bunged ourselves inside
And we all got drinking good old Scotch
'Til we was bleary-eyed

Fire! Fire! Fire!

And we all got blue blind paralytic drunk
When the Old Dun Cow caught fire.

Bofur trailed off with a lingering note on his whistle, and was quite surprised when one of the human men started another song, which was soon taken up by all of their human audience, and Bofur did his best to learn the tune and listen to the words.

Way down south where the whale-fish blow
Way down in Florida
The girls all dance to the roll-and-go
And we'll roll the woodpile down

When I was a young man in my prime
Way down in Florida
I was courting pretty girls two at a tim e
And we'll roll the woodpile down

Rolling! Rolling! Rolling the whole world 'round
That fine girl of mine's on the Georgia Line
And we'll roll the woodpile down

But now I'm old and getting grey
Way down in Florida
I can only manage one a day
And we'll roll the woodpile down

Rolling! Rolling! Rolling the whole world 'round
That fine girl of mine's on the Georgia Line
And we'll roll the woodpile down

We'll haul 'em high and we'll haul 'em low
We'll bust their blocks and away we'll go
Oh "rouse 'em, buster!" is the cry
A poor man's wage is never high

Rolling! Rolling! Rolling the whole world 'round
That fine girl of mine's on the Georgia Line
And we'll roll the woodpile down

Rolling! Rolling! Rolling the whole world 'round
That fine girl of mine's on the Georgia Line
And we'll roll the woodpile down.

There was a cheer from the humans as the song concluded, but there was a distinct look of horror on the faces of some of the dwarves.

"Courting pretty girls two at a time?!" Ori hissed

"Aye, what's wrong with that? It's just a song," called the man nearest to the young dwarf.

Ori merely spluttered as Fili and Kili shared confused looks.

"But how did you find two lasses that would take you?" asked Kili.

The poor man just frowned, unsure what was meant by the question, but beginning to feel like it was an insult.

"It's different for humans, Kili." Oin d ecided to intervene, apparently having no problems with hearing what was being said, probably because of the shiny new ear trumpet he held to his ear. "There's a lot more human lasses – about half of humans are women, but less than a third of dwarves are. And we probably court differently too."

"Aye," nodded the man, then took his opportunity to leave before he was questioned any more by the strange visitors to Lake-town.

Most of the dwarves on the porch were still confused.

"I can understand flirting with more than one lass at once, but courting?"

"That's what the song means, Fili – it means 'flirting', as you put it – it don' t mean proper courting like Gloin did for his wife, or like any of us could have been doing before we left."

"I'm sure most of those places in the song aren't even real," Gloin commented.

Ori huffed. "Humans are a strange lot, aren't they?"

"They most certainly are, brother."

All heads whipped round to stare at Nori as he came out the front door and sat on the edge of the porch.

"What about Dwalin?" Bofur raised an eye brow.

"I gave him what he wanted," Nori replied, dismissively, "but back on topic – humans are very strange; I once met a woman who put beetles in her pies."

"She did what?!"

Bilbo's was not the only appalled exclamation, and Nori was clearly very pleased with this response

"Aye – she filled her pies with beetles, and worms and other grubs, then gave them out to the poor folk in the town." The youngest three dwarves pulled faces at the very idea. "And they wrote a song about her too."

Bofur smiled, "let's hear it then."

Nori grinned, cleared his throat, and began to sing:

Come all you fine ladies
Listen to my tale
A curious story
To you I will tell
Such a strange little tale
Such a nasty surprise
There's a lady who feeds the poor on her
Black beetle pies

All you that are hungry
Do not despair
At Raglan House Brixton
Quickly repair
She is so benevolent
To all who go there
And you'll get a nice supper
I vow and declare

You can fill your hungry bellies
Before you depart
She'll hand out to Tom, Dick and Nellie
A stinking slice of her black beetle tart

The gardener next door
Was a very nice man
She gave him such a pie
As nobody can
When he took off the crust of it
He found after a pause
That the inside was stuffed with this fine lady's drawers

Black beetle pies, black beetle pies
Black beetle pies, black beetle pies
Black beetle pies, black beetle pies

Well she laughed in his face then
Her breath made him close both his eyes
She said, "I'm longing to feed you up on my
Nice hearty black beetle pies"
And this is the treatment
She gives to the poor
Who happen to find their way to her
Lodging house door

And if I had my way
She'd get a surprise
I'd stuff her cram full of those
Nasty, stinking black beetle pies

Black beetle pies, black beetle pies
Black beetle pies, black beetle pies
Black beetle pies, black beetle pies

"I'm sure I'll never understand the ways of men," Gloin commented, before turning and going back inside. He was followed by Kili and Oin, the latter commenting that he wasn't sure he wanted to understand the ways of men.

Ori helped Nori braid his hear then, and Bifur took out a new piece of wood, beginning to carve what Bofur thought might be a little whistle for Ori. Fili and Bofur took out their pipes for a smoke (another smoke, in Bofur's case) and sat watching the hustle and bustle of the town as the day drew to a close.

...

The songs are Betsy Baker, The Old Dun Cow, Roll the Woodpile Down and Black Beetle Pies by Bellowhead.

Hope you liked this chapter - reviews ar e welcome