A/N: Ugh, too many tests in college and not enough time to review for it. So, here it is, the 4th rendition of this . . . thing. Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows! I didn't really think people would be interested in such a crazy story!
Sorry for the slow pacing of this story. Almost all of my stories are dependent upon the banter between characters (because I love writing banters!), and developing their relationships. I'll quicken the pace though! Just one more chapter after this, and they'll be off Bag End, I promise!
DISCLAIMER: The Hobbit book/movie is not mine, not matter how I wish it is.
❤•°o.O`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´ ◇ⓛⓞⓥⓔ◇ `•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´O.o°•❤
Bilbo couldn't do it.
Oh, Eru.
Standing outside the dining room, the hobbit watched as the dwarves stuffed themselves with the food Bilbo cooked. They truly were a merry gathering—throwing food at one another, boisterously cheering, loudly slapping their hands on the table, and stomping their little feet on the floor.
"Bombur, catch!" The hatted dwarf threw a piece of chicken at the red-haired dwarf seated at the other end of the table.
The dwarf skillfully caught the meat with his mouth, instantly swallowing it without even chewing. The others cheered as if it was a great achievement. The dwarves barely used the silverware Bilbo set out, opting instead to grab the food with their bare hands.
"Who wants some ale?" Various foodstuff was stepped on as Fili walked the length of the table, holding several pints in his hands. Gandalf easily swat away any food that came near him or his clothes, casually eating in the middle of the disarray.
Bilbo gripped the edge of the archway with white knuckles, face pale. He would have been irritated at the wastage of such good food, and the possible damage to his mother's pottery if he wasn't currently hyperventilating.
Oh, dear. He hadn't considered this.
He had been living in Bag End all by himself for over seventeen years. In all those years, he only entertained guests that were few and far in between. Now, there were thirteen dwarves in his homely smial, and Bag End had never felt so small.
It had been a long time since Bag End had laughs resounding in its halls. He hadn't thought he would be overwhelmed by all the ruckus. As usual, Bilbo had overestimated his ability to adapt to any situation. It was too crowded. There were too many people, too many voices, too many judgmental looks, too much noise . . . too much for an introvert like Bilbo.
He felt like he was under several dwarves again except this time, there was no presence of the sweet grounding pain; there was only his inability to breathe.
Bilbo needed air.
Silently apologizing for being a poor host yet again, he soundlessly slipped away from the celebration to collect himself.
❤•°o.O`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´ ◇ⓛⓞⓥⓔ◇ `•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´O.o°•❤
He puffed away on his pipe, its embers his glowing like little fireflies in the dark.
It was a particularly warm night in the Shire. The wind blowing from the east soothed his frayed nerves, as did the taste and scent of Old Toby.
He blew a perfect smoke ring into the night sky, the circle engulfing a hundred stars inside.
A loud cheer was heard inside Bag End, followed by a grimaced-provoking crash. Oh, Eru. He hoped the dwarves weren't destroying anything irreplaceable. He didn't want to give Drogo any less of the Bag End Bilbo received.
Bilbo sighed. He shall have to get used to the chaos that were his dwarven companions or he'll never have the courage to go out his front door. This was his only opportunity for an exciting death. Just a few more failed attempts at conversation and he would never have to get used to anyone or anything ever again.
Sitting down after all the excitement, Bilbo was made aware of just how exhausted he was. Not only did he cook half the day away, he had also dealt with the dwarves' rowdy behavior. And so, he was perfectly content to rest for a while and enjoy the peace outside of his home.
He heard heavy steps on the pavement and glanced up. He was prepared to greet the hobbit that was perhaps taking a nice evening stroll, and apologize for the noise coming from his smial. What he wasn't prepared for, however, was the sight of a tall dwarf in a majestic furred coat glaring at him. His dark hair was like long curtains framing his head, large nose jutting out of his face like a mountain. Unlike the other dwarves (well, except Kili who barely had whiskers on his face), his beard was cropped near his chin.
"Hobbit," the dwarf called out with an impatient huff, emphasizing the 't'.
Bilbo stupidly blinked up at him. He thought all thirteen dwarves had arrived. Well, he didn't even think to count them so he was clearly wrong.
"Where might I find—" The dwarf's gaze landed on Bag End's round door. He didn't finish his sentence, choosing instead to walk inside the gate fence of Bilbo's home. The hobbit observed the dwarf as he startled, seemingly realizing that Bilbo was located inside the fence.
The dark-haired dwarf glanced at Bag End then at Bilbo. His gaze rove over the hobbit, taking in his elegant waistcoat, soft round face, unruly curls, and big furry feet. His brows furrowed—either in confusion or disapproval, Bilbo knew not. Bilbo stared back, still puffing on his pipe, silently wondering whether the dwarf was a bit soft in the head. The dwarf had been looking unblinkingly at Bilbo for a while now.
The dwarf cleared his throat then. "You live in this hobbit hole?" He asked gruffly, gesturing at Bag End.
"It's called a smial," Bilbo replied evenly, used to correcting Big Folk on their mistakes about hobbit culture. "And yes, I do." He exhaled another two smoke rings before saying, "The other dwarves are inside. You should go in before they eat all the food."
"Dwarrows." The dwarf said apropos of nothing.
"Pardon me?" Bilbo asked politely.
"Dwarrows. Not dwarves. Dwarrows is the plural of a dwarf," the dwarf informed magnanimously, like he was imparting some great knowledge onto the world and not just correcting Bilbo's grammar.
"Truly?" Nevertheless, the fact that 'dwarrows' was an actual term piqued Bilbo's interest. Ever the scholar, the hobbit inquired, "What about dwarven females? Are they also referred to as 'dwarrows'?"
The dwarf snorted. "They are called dwarrowdams, Hobbit."
Bilbo hummed. Dwarven culture, especially their language, had too few records about it. Hearsays had it that dwarrows were secretive of their heritage and thus, go through great lengths not to share the knowledge with other races.
"Thank you for informing me, Dwarf," Bilbo replied in turn.
The dwarf's glare was back, burning a hole through Bilbo's head. The hobbit would have been more scared if he hadn't been planning his death for years. As it was, nothing the dwarf could do to him would be worse than what he would be doing to himself.
"You mock me?" the dwarf growled, marching towards the bench Bilbo was sitting in.
The hobbit had to crane his neck to stare up at the dwarf's face. Bilbo frowned, confused. "No . . . ?" What did he do wrong? He usually didn't screw up until at least five minutes into a conversation. It's been less than three. This was a new record. "What was it I said that offends you so?" Bilbo asked, going over his sentence in his mind and finding nothing insulting in it.
"You called me 'Dwarf'!" the dwarf all but roared.
"And you called me 'Hobbit'." Bilbo replied, voice rising in incredulity. "Are we not a dwarf and a hobbit?" Perhaps the dwarf really was soft in the head. Honestly, being offended at being called he was!
The dwarf paused, visibly faltering. "I . . . You truly find nothing degrading in being called a 'Hobbit'?" He gave Bilbo a scrutinizing look, gauging his reaction.
"I would prefer to be called by my name, Bilbo Baggins. But there's nothing wrong with being called what I am." Bilbo was thoroughly bewildered now. Was there a faux pas he was completely overlooking?
With the 'you are strange' look the dwarf was shooting him, Bilbo supposed there was. Whispers of 'Mad Baggins' echoed in his ears, cruelly taunting him. The hobbit squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcefully dispelling the phantom voices. His grip on his pipe tightened to the point that the wood was creaking in protest.
Bilbo let out a tired and resigned sigh for the nth time that day alone. He was too exhausted to be dealing with rude dwarves that may or may not have a mental-affliction.
He got to his feet, neck already aching from looking up at the dwarf. He tapped out the ashes from his pipe. "It has been a long day. I'm sure it has been for you as well." Bilbo added the last sentence as an afterthought. "Why don't you come inside and eat? And I'll—Oh dear, I haven't even prepared the rooms yet!" exclaimed the hobbit, slapping a hand on his forehead. More to himself, he muttered, "Surely, you won't be staying in an inn. The nearest one is an hour away by feet. I haven't aired out the cushions. It's all probably dusty—"
"My Company shall take care of their own," interjected the dwarf. In a flat tone he added, "As they always have since we've lost our home." With that parting statement, the dwarf strode away, heading towards Bag End.
"Your Company?" Bilbo asked, hurriedly follow the dwarf. The other's stride was wide and fast, and Bilbo struggled to keep up.
"Yes," was all the dwarf said before he rapped his knuckles on the round door.
Before he could help it, Bilbo shot the dwarf a pitying look. Yes, definitely mentally-afflicted, this one. "Um, there is a doorbell right here." Bilbo pointed at the string connected to a bronze bell that was beside the door. "And," the hobbit pushed the green door open with one hand. "I couldn't lock the door if I was outside, could I?"
The dwarf shot Bilbo a particularly scathing look, not that the hobbit noticed. Instead, the hobbit's wide eyes were drawn to a glowing rune carved on the wooden door. It appeared similar to the Westron letter 'F'.
"What in Eru's name . . ." Bilbo leaned down, fingers running through the wood. He was quite sure this mark wasn't here this morning. Who on Middle Earth had vandalized his home?
"It is Gandalf's symbol," the dwarf behind him muttered with a brusque tone before pushing past Bilbo and entering Bag End.
"Gandalf?" Ooh, that blasted wizard!
"Bilbo, my dear, there you are!"
Speak of the wizard and he shall appear. Trailing after Gandalf like ducklings were the other dwarrrows. They were chattering excitedly with one another. However, as their gazes landed on the dwarf by the front door, they abruptly stopped—both in their conversations and their steps.
Bilbo opened his mouth to demand answers about his door but the recently arrived dwarf beat him to it.
"Gandalf, I thought you said this place was easy to find," the dwarf said, removing his outerwear. Bilbo, by routine, grabbed for it and hung it right beside the other dwarrows' coats. The dwarf merely raised an unimpressed brow before continuing, "I lost my way. Twice."
Twice! Why, Bag End was one of the most noticeable smial of them all! Not only mentally-afflicted but directionally-challenged as well. . . What is Gandalf thinking?
"I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."
The statement brought back Bilbo's anger.
"Gandalf!" Bilbo placed his fists on his hips, eyes burning with fury as he looked up at the wizard. "What have you done with my door?" Bilbo pointed at the glowing rune. "This was painted just a week ago!" The hobbit didn't want to give Drogo any more work than he had to. He didn't want to give away Bag End in poor condition.
"Ah, yes. I've carved a mark on it so the dwarves could easily find it." Gandalf replied with a smile. The smile dropped as Bilbo continued glaring up at him. The hobbit appeared as intimidating as a bunny but the wizard knew that hobbits, especially of the Took side, were never quite as innocent as they seemed. Gandalf cleared his throat. "Y-Yes, it was terribly rude of me to put it there without your permission. I apologize."
"And can you . . . magicked it away?" Bilbo crossly asked, folding his arms on his chest.
Gandalf looked extremely offended at the suggestion. "Magic is used for things only of outmost importance, Bilbo. Not for doors that just needs a little bit of paint to fix!"
Bilbo let out a frustrated sigh. "I thought as much." He closed the door, already thinking of adding an apology in his letter to Drogo.
"I see you have met the leader of our Company." Gandalf said, nodding at the last dwarf.
Bilbo's brows rose with surprise; he turned to the aforementioned dwarf.
"You are the leader?" asked Bilbo. Now in the proper lighting, the hobbit could see the regal bearing of the dwarf. His eyes were old and his face was set in a hard determined edge. The dwarf had definitely pegged the 'fallen soldier' look.
For the sake of the other dwarrows, he hoped the dwarf was not actually as brain-addled as he seemed to Bilbo.
"Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain," the dwarf said tersely, not even attempting to bow. He gave Bilbo a look that one would give to a bug in his path. Bilbo tried and failed not to feel inadequate. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Thorin released the hobbit from his scrutinizing gaze.
"We have much to discuss, Gandalf," the dwarven leader nodded at the wizard before stalking away towards one of Bag End's many halls.
The other dwarrows followed after without hesitation, gravitating to him like magnets to a pole.
Bilbo frowned after them. "Where are they going?" He and Gandalf exchanged confused glances. "The dining room's at the other hall."
❤•°o.O`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´ ◇ⓛⓞⓥⓔ◇ `•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´O.o°•❤
A/N: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English is not my native tongue)
P.S. I researched about the mark on Bilbo's door. In the book, it's not really an 'F' but 3 runes symbolizing a Burglar, Excitement, and Reward. But the movie showed only an 'F' -like symbol. Apparently, in Cirth (the language which Khuzdul was based on), it's actually a letter 'G'. That's why it could denote 'Gandalf'
Thank you for all your suggestions about the bromance/slash thing! So far, I haven't decided yet whether to have a SLASH pairing with Bilbo but there will definitely be a BROMANCE. Perhaps Bilbo with all thirteen of the dwarves (and maybe some elves and men). But I will probably have Thorin as the best friend because, well, considering happened in the last Hobbit movie, THINK OF THE POSSIBILITIES! *evil laughter*. So many opportunities to torture Bilbo . . . Wait, I meant *clears throat*, so many opportunities to cure Bilbo of his depression, of course . . .
Yeah, so if you guys don't like a Thorin/Bilbo bromance, I apologize, but this is not the story for you. Happy readings!
Constructive criticisms are very much welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!
Have an awesome day!
~ Vividpast