A/N: I am unashamedly in love with Fili as portrayed in 'An Unexpected Journey'. This might become apparent as the story progresses. :D

4.

Five days after leaving the comforts of his beloved home, Bilbo still bemoaned the lack of pocket handkerchiefs. His allergy to horse hair hadn't subsided, nor did his spine feel any less determined to stop drilling a new hole in his skull as he tottered in the saddle. There hadn't been any mention of ponies in that damned contract (and Bilbo had read every little bit of fine-print!). However, as the official burglar of Thorin Oakenshield's company, Bilbo had little choice but to travel like a Dwarf (although, hopefully, he would not be expected to mimic their table manners or start smelling like them anytime soon). He already bemoaned the foolishness of his Tookish ancestry, but while the company passed through the Shire, at least Bilbo could enjoy the trip.

Yet, as the first day of May drew toward noon, they were moving further and further away from Bilbo's last familiar boundary. Buckland lay behind them in a shimmering haze and before them, the Great East Road stretched as far as the eye could see. Bilbo's first taste of the 'world ahead', as Gandalf was so fond of calling it, was marked by a double line of trees and thick undergrowth on each side of the road. He'd never been to Bree, but Bilbo recalled the straight line that lead toward it from the Brandywine Bridge, as it was marked on many of his maps. But blast it all, he'd forgotten to pack any of them! Gandalf would have to be their guide and they'd have to make do with the maps in his wizened head.

They'd been going along at a pleasant pace (or unpleasant, if Bilbo looked to the head of their company and saw Thorin's permanent scowl) for some hours, when the most peculiar thing happened. Bilbo, who usually rode last and usually had Gandalf or Bofur as company, thought he'd caught some movement in the bushes on his left. Not only movement, but also a flash of orange.

He pulled on the reins and brought his pony to a tottering halt, eyes on the rustling undergrowth.

"What is it, Bilbo?" the wizard asked him. "What's the matter?"

"I thought I saw a… Look!"

Bilbo pointed toward the side of the road and there, a fox was climbing from the ditch, crossing the road slowly and fixing them with its beady eyes. There would have been nothing strange about it, if the fox didn't stop in the middle of the road just a few paces away from them. It dropped a walnut from its jaws, sat down on its hind legs and eyed the travelers intently.

"That's a funny thing for a fox to do…" someone behind Bilbo muttered.

The whole company had halted and, predictably, Thorin yelled "What are we stopping now for?!" But the fox did not flinch. It just sat there primly, looking at Bilbo expectantly.

"What do you suppose…?" the Hobbit began, but his jaw dropped when the fox shook its head and pushed the walnut with its paw, almost as if it were showing it to Bilbo. "Is it trying to tell us something?"

"I do believe it is," Gandalf slid off his horse and approached the peculiar little beast. He picked up the walnut, petted the fox and almost immediately, it scurried away into the brambles on other side of the road.

"Now that was queer," Bofur said, riding to Bilbo's side.

"Why would a fox…? Hmm…," Gandalf murmured to himself, turning the walnut in his hands. Bilbo saw the two halves part and Gandalf brought his hands closer to his eyes. "Aaah… I see," the wizard smiled in his beard.

"What do you see? What was all that about, Gandalf?"

By way of answer, Gandalf came to him and gave Bilbo the walnut, along with a pointed look. Bilbo examined the two halves and found that they were hollow… except for a tiny piece of paper tucked inside one of them. Bilbo opened his mouth to ask about it and felt Gandalf's fingers squeezing his leg. He frowned instead and tried to read the minuscule script on the paper.

'At the Pony in Bree, say CRANBERRY to the owner'

Puzzled, Bilbo looked to Gandalf for some kind of clarification, but the wizard shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't look at me, Bilbo Baggins, I have no idea why a fox would offer us a spoiled walnut," he said.

Bilbo felt the wizard's grip tighten for a moment and then it dawned upon him. The Elves! Gandalf patted his leg and smiled very briefly, turning to a grumbling Thorin Oakenshield who had ridden back to investigate what the matter was.

The Elves! They had promised Bilbo they'd not be too far ahead and surely the message came from them. Perhaps they were waiting for the company at the famous Prancing Pony in Bree. There was a cheerful thought and Bilbo could not hold back a smile.

"A spoiled walnut, eh?" Bofur leaned closer to Bilbo, eying his hands suspiciously.

"Ah… yes. Very queer. I've never seen anything like that my whole life," Bilbo closed his fingers and gave the Dwarf as innocent and bewildered a look as he could manage.

"Alright. Alright, lad. Keep yer secrets, you and the wizard both," Bofur shook his head. But he was smiling and tugging on one of his quirky braids as he rode away from Bilbo.

The Hobbit's spirits plummeted somewhat when Thorin spared him a reproachful look, scoffing about foxes and crazy wizards and lazy Hobbits. But, after they had resumed their ride, Gandalf leaned precariously on the back of his horse and whispered to Bilbo: "Animals will listen to Tyelkormo and do his bidding. I do believe we have something interesting to look forward when we get to Bree."

And so it was. Three days later, when the company rode into Bree with the setting sun (and a downpour at their backs), they found they were not at all unexpected. The Prancing Pony's innkeeper welcomed them with many smiles and no need for explanations. He assigned his round-cheeked son Barliman to make sure that the company lacked for nothing.

To their astonishment (and Thorin's mounting suspicion), lodgings for all of them had been prepared in advance and their ponies were unsaddled and unpacked immediately. Before the confused Dwarves had finished removing their wet cloaks, they'd been ushered in a private dining room and Barliman was ringing the bell for dinner.

"What is the meaning of this?" Thorin demanded of Gandalf, pointing around the room, to the long, low table. "How did they know about our coming and even the number of our company?"

"It is not unusual for news to pass between the Shire and Bree."

"But we've encountered nobody on the road, Gandalf. Was it you? Did you send messages ahead for these… arrangements?"

Bilbo espied this exchange with some trepidation, unsure if Gandalf would give away their true benefactors. But the wizard shrugged and smiled, seemingly willing to take the blame. That was a relief…

Suddenly, Bilbo recalled the password on the tiny piece of paper still tucked inside his pocket. He walked up to Barliman and tugged on his sleeve.

"May I do something for you, Master Hobbit?" the young man offered.

"Perhaps. Some… friends of ours might have passed through Bree and stayed here a few days ago."

"Ah, yes! The…"

"Them, yes!" Bilbo shushed the man as discretely as he could. "I've been told to pass a message from them to you. Well, more of a word than a message. Cranberry."

At that, the lad straightened and nodded energetically.

"Certainly. Right away, sir."

Before Bilbo could inquire into it, Barliman had vanished through the dining-room door. Scratching his still damp hair, Bilbo sought Gandalf's eyes. But the wizard had little to say beside advising Bilbo to take off his coat and make himself comfortable at the table.

A few minutes later, the innkeeper knocked on the door, nodding approvingly when he saw the company all seated around the table. He stepped out of the way and let in a veritable procession. Six maids and boys brought with them trays and pots and pans and bottles and even a sizable keg of ale. Under the innkeeper's proud but stern gaze, his staff made the trip three times, leaving not a corner of the table uncovered. They left a feast before the astonished eyes of their guests.

There were more types of cheeses than Bilbo could count. Smoked meat and cooked meat, pork, beef, lamb, roasted chicken, stew, gravy, fresh baked bread, greens and a number of pies that Bilbo could not identify by smell alone. The whole company stared in awe at the culinary feast they hadn't ordered, but welcomed more than could be said with words.

Bowls of clear water were set beside each guest and Bilbo chuckled to himself at the contrary look they received. Some of the Dwarves had already started to dig in, as he washed his hands and dried them on a napkin the girl at his side provided. Closest to him, Fili gave Bilbo a long look and shrugged, but he imitated the Hobbit, taking off his gauntlets and cleaning his hands. Kili would have scoffed, but Bilbo heard him 'ooomph!' instead, presumably kicked by his brother under the table. 'Good lads!' Bilbo nodded approvingly, as both brothers were nice and clean... or at least their hands were.

"I trust everything is to your liking," the innkeeper said. "Enjoy your meal and ring the bell if you need anything. We shall return with desert."

Assorted groans and grunts and some cheerful words added in the mix were the man's thanks. Before long, all of them had foregone small talk in favor of eating. And drinking. And reminding Bilbo about the nightmare at Bag End. But thankfully, it was not his pantry being raided, nor his cellar plundered.

The Hobbit placed a little bit of everything on his large plate and helped himself to a glass of wine. He was cutting his meat into bite-size portion when he caught Fili doing the same. Bilbo saw the young Dwarf eying him intently and picking up a piece of meat with his fork precisely as Bilbo had done it. Except, the gesture seemed positively dainty, coming from the Dwarf.

Bilbo chewed his food and saw Fili doing the same. He picked up a grilled tomato and sliced it in half, blowing on the steaming mouthful. Fili was unnervingly mimicking his every move.

"Beg your pardon, but… what are you doing?" he turned to the Dwarf.

Fili set his cutlery down and smiled innocently.

"Eating, Master Bagging. Although… I suppose I'm not doing it right."

'No, you're not, you people scarf your food down like every meal might be your last…' Bilbo groaned inwardly.

"I'm not exactly sure how you get your fill by mincing your food this way," Fili pointed to his plate where he'd cut everything to bits. "But… I am trying to be a bit more… civilized, if you will."

Kili groaned, rolled his eyes and tipped back a huge tankard in reply to his brother's attempts at being civilized.

"Oh," Bilbo suddenly felt bad for glaring at his companion. "That's… well, you don't have to do everything I do. I can understand how you might not slate your hunger the same way I do."

"Well, you are very small," Fili observed with a smile that Bilbo was beginning to think nobody in the wide world had any arguments against.

"You can be bigger and still have some table manners," Bilbo discretely pointed to the other end of the table, where Gandalf wasn't making a mess of himself and… wonder of all wonders, neither was Thorin.

"We're supposed to mind our manners, actually. As uncle's heirs, we never know what folk we might run into. Best learn not to offend them, even unintentionally," Fili picked up his fork and resumed eating. "My apologies, Master Baggins, I shall try not to stare at you anymore."

"It's quite alright," Bilbo stammered, meaning to compliment the young Dwarf on his good intentions, but the table exploded with laughter and his voice never made it through the din.

Much to Bilbo's secret amusement, after the sorry remains of the feast had been removed, Barliman returned with the most enormous cranberry pie Bilbo had ever seen. With fresh whipped cream on the side. Gandalf outright laughed when a large helping was set on his plate and his bright eyes all but said 'our friends have outdone themselves' to Bilbo.

It was only much, much later, when the Dwarves drowsed, laid back in their chairs and shrouded in smoke, that it occurred to anyone at the table to ask who would pay for everything.

"Um… Mister Gandalf, I don't suppose the good innkeeper has mentioned anything about the costs of his excellent accommodations?" Oin inquired, fiddling with his earpiece as he eyed Gandalf for an answer.

"I would not worry about that, my friend. It's all been taken care of."

"We shall find means to repay you for your kindness," Thorin intervened.

"Oh, it's not me you must thank for all of this. I do believe those Elves you sent away so unceremoniously have passed through here and had everything readied for us."

Thorin gagged on his mouthful of smoke and expelled it in a loud burst.

"WHAT?!"

Gandalf merely shrugged, chuckling in his beard.

"You knew about it and said nothing?!"

"Thoring Oakenshield, do NOT turn your nose up at hospitality when it's offered freely! It'll be weeks before you have a meal like this again, under a solid roof and at your leisure."

Thorin frowned darkly and downed a glass of wine to soothe his throat.

"Fine!" he grumbled, throwing back his chair. "Fine. But to bed now, all of you. We leave tomorrow, at first light."

"We leave after breakfast and replenishing our supplies and giving Butterbur a proper thanks for his hospitality," Gandalf declared.

As many times before, Thorin and Gandalf had their little silent stare-down and, as many times before, Thorin conceded, annoyed huff and all. Bilbo was beginning to find it tiresome, but at least it didn't have to be him at the end of Thorin's fierce glare.

"Fine!" Thorin set his glass on the table with a clink that meant ill news for its integrity and stalked off. "I am going to bed. You'd best do the same."

There wasn't much enthusiasm in following him, not at first. But gradually, the Dwarves began to retreat, collecting their items from wherever they'd dropped them. Bilbo didn't feel much like calling it a night, and drew up the smoking of his pipe as long as he could. In the end, it was Fili who motioned him out of his reverie, telling the Hobbit that he would be left alone in a minute.

"Then… I suppose I should also retire," Bilbo nodded absently.

"It would be wise. Thorin will keep at least part of his word and rouse us at dawn."

"Hmph."

"Tell me, Master Baggins, did you also know about… your tall, pointy-eared friends and this party they've set up for us?"

"Well…," Bilbo searched the Dwarf's smile and found nothing unfriendly in it. "Maybe."

"Hahaha, so I thought. You've been entirely too pleased with yourself ever since we've ridden past the gate. And now the incident with the fox that Bofur was on about makes more sense."

Bilbo shifted from one foot to the other, wondering how to tell the clever Dwarf (who also happened to be Thorin's kinsman!) that he should perhaps keep his clever conclusions to himself .

"It'll not be the last we've heard of the pointy ears, will it?" Fili's eyes narrowed, but again, his dimpled smile belied any fears Bilbo might have had.

"I hope not," the Hobbit found himself admitting. "Just…"

"Don't tell Thorin, I know. I won't. But he's not as dense as he is grumpy. He will have guessed that no self-respecting Elf will take orders from a Dwarf, king or otherwise. We might be in for a bumpier ride than we expect, once we set out into the wild."

Surprised by Fili's choice of words and his candid assessment of their situation, Bilbo could do nothing but raise his eyebrows in a hopeful look. It made the young Dwarf laugh and clap Bilbo's shoulder, guiding him toward the rooms they'd been given to for the night.