Chapter Two
Bilbo froze. He wasn't expecting company and had no idea why anybody would be calling on him until he recalled that in his attempts to rid himself of Gandalf the night before, he had offered to have the wizard to dinner. The words, which had left his mouth without his permission, had come back to bite him.
The first move Bilbo made once the shock had worn off was to the pantry, the second to the front door. He opened it, expecting to see Gandalf stooping to enter the hobbit hole, and was quite disconcerted to see that the visitor wasn't Gandalf at all. The stranger was a dwarf, that much was obvious from his height, build and beard.
"Dwalin, at your service," the dwarf said, bowing low. Bilbo returned the words and the bow, not daring to ask what the dwarf was doing on his front porch. The visitor was about a foot taller than the hobbit, he wore a fierce expression and carried twin axes; Bilbo dared not protest as Dwalin stepped inside.
The visitor shrugged his pack off his shoulders, leaving the weapons strapped to his back. Before Bilbo could do anything more than reach out to catch the pack, the dwarf had hung his cloak on a peg by the door and marched off towards the dining room. Bilbo placed the pack gently underneath the cloak, struggling with the weight but careful not to let it land heavily and damage the floor.
Bilbo hurried up the passageway to find Dwalin finishing the last of the cakes he had set out for Gandalf. Before he knew what had happened, the dwarf was cleaning the plate that the hobbit had prepared earlier for his own dinner. Only a few bones remained; the dwarf had just speared the last of the potatoes on the end of his knife when the doorbell rang again.
"Please excuse me," Bilbo said. They were the first words he had been able to speak in several minutes. The poor hobbit felt rather uncomfortable; it would have been rude to refuse the guest some refreshment or to inquire about his business. As for putting Dwalin back out of the comfortable hole and sending him on his way, that should have been unthinkable. It was a fact, however, that the thought had crossed Bilbo's mind.
Dwalin nodded and filled his mouth with potato all at the same time. The dwarf too hadn't spoken more than necessary and seemed to have no issue with his host disappearing down the corridor, or so Bilbo thought.
Still expecting Gandalf, Bilbo was surprised to find a second dwarf on his doorstep. This one was shorter than Dwalin, and had a full head of grey hair to match his long beard. He also had a smile and his eyes twinkled as he said, "Balin, at your service."
"Bilbo Baggins at yours," the hobbit replied correctly. He turned at the noise of heavy boots behind him to see that Dwalin had left the table.
"Brother!" the dwarves greeted each other, then to the complete astonishment of the hobbit they reached forwards to grip each other's shoulders and head butted. The crack of their skulls echoed as Balin hung up his cloak and laid down his pack. All at once, the hobbit was forgotten. The two brothers, for brothers they indeed were, traipsed off up the hallway to the pantry. Bilbo followed, an ominous feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.
All the same, Bilbo decided, it was rather rude of the dwarves to help themselves to whatever food they wanted, without the slightest consideration that the hobbit might regain his appetite and decide to eat at some point in the future. It was something of a surprise to the hobbit to realise that he wasn't hungry, and a bit of a worry. Bilbo couldn't remember the last time he had been uninterested in food at a mealtime.
For the next half an hour, Bilbo watched the dwarves demolish a joint of gammon, several potatoes, a bowl full of vegetables and two mugs of ale. If he hadn't seen the meal Dwalin had eaten before Balin arrived, Bilbo would have assumed that neither dwarf had seen food for hours at the very least. They ignored the hobbit, who in all honesty paid very little attention to the conversation they were having. He concentrated more on trying to remember what else he had in the pantry and how many more mugs of ale the dwarves could drink before he would have to open a new barrel.
Bilbo excused himself, this time receiving a smile with his nod from Balin, and went to fetch himself an ale. The prospect of eating didn't seem inviting, but Bilbo hoped a drink would help settle his stomach. By the time he returned from the cellar, the pantry had clearly been raided again. It took Bilbo a moment to notice that all of his plates were stacked up at the end of the long table and his mood didn't improve at the sight.
How many more dwarves, exactly, were Balin and Dwalin expecting? He had almost made up his mind to ask when the doorbell rang for a third time. Trying exceptionally hard to remember his manners and not to curse, Bilbo headed out of the dining room yet again. This time two dwarves stood on the threshold, both at least a foot taller than the hobbit, around Dwalin's height but much younger. These two wore their beards shorter than their older companions did.
"Fili and Kili, at your service," the two newcomers bowed in unison. This time Bilbo could no nothing more than step back and allow them to enter. His voice seemed utterly to have failed him. Kili, darker of hair and much fairer of face than is typical of dwarves, led his older brother into the hobbit hole, where they both deposited cloaks, packs and weapons into his arms.
Bilbo wanted to ask why the dwarves were making themselves at home in his hole and if it was normal for them to carry so many axes, swords and knives, but his voice still hadn't returned. He searched for suitable places to leave the collection of abandoned items and returned to the dining room. Several platters of food and his entire stock of mugs had joined the plates on the table. Bilbo's feeling of trepidation could hardly increase any more, but it did so as the doorbell rang for a fourth time.
