Farmer Hodgkin looked over the tumbled heap of runaway apples and children, shaking his head disapprovingly. Frodo winced under the old hobbit's severe gaze and tried to control his breathing, which was still quite ragged from their mad dash down the path. He had the feeling they were in particularly big trouble.

"Well, in all my days I've never seen a vegetable raid like that. Thieving dwarves, teamed up with a self-respecting hobbit, no less! Mighty unusual. No good will come of it, I'll tell you that," Hodgkin said, shaking his head.

Taurion sat up and rubbed his head, which had received a rather nasty bump. "Does that mean we can go?" he asked innocently.

Hodgkin snorted. "Bless me! Of course not! We take vegetable raiding seriously here. Come on, to your feet the lot of you. And I'll have words with your uncle later about this, Mr. Baggins. "

Frodo groaned inwardly as they stumbled to their feet. Being recognised was something he had quite hoped to avoid. He hadn't gone vegetable raiding (or at least been caught) since he moved to Bag End, and had no idea how his uncle might take it. It seemed to be something much more common in Buckland. Perhaps Bilbo would be terribly disappointed in him, and think him a thief. Frodo began to dread his uncle's likely reaction.

"First gather up the apples, then we'll be heading back to the farmhouse," Hodgkin ordered. The dwarflings and hobbit glumly obeyed.

"Now march!" said Hodgkin with a glint in his eye, as if he was quite enjoying this. The farmer cradled the split sack of apples in one arm, and also grabbed the sack of mushrooms hanging from the bush, much to Frodo's dismay. He had vaguely hoped they might be able to sneak back and retrieve those later.

Frodo fell into step beside Finn as they began walking back down the path. "Sorry about all this. I should have known better than to suggest it in the first place," he whispered.

"Nonsense! We almost made it in any case. Next time, eh?" The dwarf whispered back cheerfully, plucking twigs and leaves out of his blonde hair that he had collected in their fall as they walked.

"Don't worry Frodo, it wasn't your fault about the burst sack. We've planned exploits that went far worse, haven't we Finn?" said Dís, trying to console him.

Finn chuckled, remembering several past disastrous schemes.

"Let's see… There was the time we were playing on the battlements outside The Mountain and the catapult went off, but I think that was mostly Uncle Kíli's fault. And a few weeks after that Dís and I tried sending insults to each other with royal carrier pigeons, but the birds all flew to King Thranduil in Mirkwood instead. We nearly started another war. Oh, and the time Taurion 'accidently' locked Great-uncle Thorin in the private armoury when he was supposed to be attending that opening ceremony. He missed it and ended up coming to my birthday dinner that night instead," Finn finished with a grin.

"But no matter what – what they do, I- I always get dropped," declared Taurion resentfully, panting as he tried to keep up.

Frodo instantly felt bad for the dwarfling and stopped to allow him climb onto his shoulders. He had a moment of difficulty standing upright and moving forward.

"You don't have to do that. I can carry him," said Finn understandingly.

"No- no, it's fine. I've… got it." said Frodo, taking several halting steps.

Some minutes later, Frodo was quite regretting not talking Finn up on that offer.

"Good heavens, Taurion. For such a small dwarf you're certainly not light!"

"That's what everyone says when they carry me," said Taurion happily, working a clumsy braid into the hobbit's hair.

"Well, it's true…"

"Ah, back again," said Hodgkin as they entered the farm yard. "Now come along to the toolshed here." The farmer led the way to a small lean-to and rummaged around inside for several moments. He pulled out a spade and a small pitchfork and handed them to Frodo and Finn, then marched to the far end of the garden patch.

"In payment for the spoiled apples, you lot are going to be doing some chores that my wizened old bones have trouble with. Starting with this tater patch here," Hodgkin jammed a finger in the direction of the plot of earth.

Finn looked from the tool in his hand to moist brown soil and back again.

"But- but I'm a prince of Durin, not a farmhand! Dwarves mine for gold and riches, not potatoes! Royal heirs don't do that sort of thing!" he protested, his entitled upbringing finally coming to the surface.

"Sure yeh are," said Hodgkin gravely. "But if you think yourself good enough to steal my vegetables, you're good enough to pick them."

Finn, despite his indignation, didn't have anything to say to that. Hodgkin saw he had made his point and turned to Dís and Taurion.

"Now that I've settled your brother here, you two can come with me and help with the apple picking, seeing as you're quite capable without ladders. An east wind's blowing in, which means it'll be bitter cold tonight, and I don't want the fruit getting spoiled."

The girl and her brother followed him away without complaint, leaving Frodo and Finn standing in the potato patch.

"Sorry. My father would have spanked me if he heard me say that. He's always been very keen to make sure I didn't grow up feeling 'entitled', or something of that sort," Finn said after a moment.

"That's all right," said Frodo absently. It was getting late. Bilbo was going to start wondering where they were. The trouble with Farmer Hodgkin was going to be hard enough to explain without him being cross at their lateness.

"No, I mean it. I shouldn't have said that at all. I meant no offence to hobbits or their tater patches."

"I know," said Frodo, smiling for a moment. "Now let's dig these potatoes. Gaffer Gamgee showed me how to once."

The two boys eagerly set to work, Finn driving the fork down into the soil with his boot and heaving it up to shake off the earth, while Frodo collected the potatoes that were exposed. More often than not, a potato was impaled on a prong of the fork and split in two. The fifth time that happened, Finn growled in frustration and stamped on the spoiled potato.

"Trickier than it look, isn't it?'' commented Frodo.

"By Durin, shoveling coal is easier than this!" Finn exclaimed.

"I thought princes didn't work or shovel," Frodo teased.

"We don't dig potatoes. I've shoveled plenty of coal with Adad in the forges of The Mountain. "

"Ah. That must have been fun."

"It was," said Finn, remembering the first time he been allowed to help with the work.

Ramming the shovel into the coal heap with all of his strength, Finn heaved another massive scoop of coal into the ever-hungry fire of the smelting forge, and reached for the bellows that would fan the flames even hotter.

At least, the few small chunks felt like a massive scoop of coal to the small dwarf, and Fíli watched his son reach for the top handle of the bellow far above the lad's head with a tinge of amusement.

"Here, let me help with that," he said as he pushed the handle down within Finn's reach. Then he picked up the shovel and added the necessary remainder of the fuel. Finn bounced up and down off the stone floor, the stiffness of the bellows carrying him a foot off the ground when he jumped.

"Good work, Finn. The fire's burning well now. Can you fetch me that hammer over there?"

As Finn dashed over to the tool rack to grab the smallest hammer he could find, Fíli pulled the small heated bar of metal out of the smelting forge with a pair of tongs and set it on the anvil. He pulled a stool over and set near the workbench.

"Up you come," said Fíli, hoisting a grinning Finn up onto the bench. "Whew! That's a big hammer. Are you sure you can manage that?"

"I sure!" said Finn certainly, clutching the pen-sized hammer that was typically used to make fine jewelry in his small fist.

Fíli smiled and ruffled his son's hair, delicately rebraided by Héndra that morning.

"Good then. Now take the tongs like this-" he paused to fit Finn's hand over the wooden grip. "And hold your hammer like this. Now pound it up and down the length of the sword. Keep your blows strong and steady. Away you go!"

Finn frowned with intense concentration and began to hammer away. After a minute of steadying pounding his arm began to waiver and his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, but the hardy little dwarf carried on. Fíli eventually stopped him before the boy tired himself out too much.

"That's enough for now. You've done excellent work. Soon you'll have a sword to be proud of."

Beaming with pride, Finn allowed himself to be lowered back to the floor to put tool away. Fíli seized his own hammer and quickly smoothed out the lumps and ridges from Finn's uncoordinated blows.

"Now Finn, we're going to leave this to cool here, and we'll come back tomorrow and heat and hammer it again."

"Can us put it in the big bucket, Adad? My like the big cloud it makes! Then my can hammer it again now!"

"I know you love the steam clouds mizimith, but the metal's not ready for that yet. It needs to stay soft and pliable until we're finished shaping it. And we don't have time to work on it more today. Did you forget about the feast tonight?"

Finn squealed with delight as he remembered. Fíli tidied the last of the tools in the forging station before taking of the leather apron and lifting Finn onto his shoulders. They made their way through the massive chamber filled with dwarves hard at work with their crafts. All made small bows of respect to the prince as he passed them by. Fíli nodded in acknowledgement to each, while Finn remained in happy oblivion to the attention.

"Thank you for taking me to the forge today Adad, and showing me how to make swords," Finn said as they exited the chamber.

"You're very welcome Finn. Did you enjoy learning?"

"Uh-huh. Did your adad teach you how make swords too?"

Fíli startled a bit at that question. "No, Uncle Thorin did. I was still too young for the forges when my father died,"

"Oh. My sorry," Finn was silent for some time after that. Then- "I'm glad you still here to make swords with me,"

Fíli closed his eyes for a moment, then pulled his son down to hug him.

"Me too, mizimith. Me too," he murmured as he walked through the door of his family's apartment.

Little Dís was sitting by the fireplace playing with dolls and Finn's toy soldiers. When Finn saw this he squealed in protest and wriggled down to rescue his possessions.

"Hi, Uncle Fíli!" she said sweetly as Finn tried in vain to wrestle his wooden troll back.

"Hullo Dís. Are you here with your mother?" Fíli asked.

"Uh-huh. She's with Auntie Héndra out there. They're planning the feast tonight," she said, before turning back to her attacker. "Look Finn, Mr. Bofur made me a little box for my doll clothes."

Finn stopped struggling long enough to look, and Fíli strolled into the den. Too late he noticed Kíli sitting at the table, frantically making a 'Flee!' motion. His poor brother was caught between their wives who were drawing up a complicated battle plan for the event that night.

"We'll set the delegates from the Iron Hills here on the far table, alongside the visiting nobles from the Blue Mountains. We'll keep the leaders from the trading parties on this side of the table, opposite the most talkative council members, so that they'll annoy each other with their sales pitches and complaints and not the other guests. And we'll leave this table empty for any latecomers since the weather's been quite bad," Ida declared, marking out various positions on her map of the feasting hall.

"Are you sure that's quite wise?" asked Héndra thoughtfully. "The council members might make a complaint,"

"They'll be sure to find something to complain about in any case, and here it will actually serve a purpose,"

"Very true. But have you considered- ah, Fíli. We were just going to ask your advice for something. Do you think the musicians ought to come in before the third course is served or afterwards?" Héndra asked him.

Fíli had absolutely no opinion on the subject whatsoever. "Whatever you think is best, my love."

Ida snorted. "That's exactly what your brother's been saying. You're both equally useless for planning events."

"Hey!" protested Kíli "I suggested we just send everyone home and have a pleasant party all on our own. I think you should have considered that idea more carefully."

Fíli missed Ida's response to that comment. Finn was pulling at his sleeve.

"Can my come to the feast tonight? Please?"

"Of course, Finn. We always let you-"

"No, can my stay up with everybody? You won't send me to bed when the music starts?"

Fíli considered it. "Alright then, if you can work in the forge I suppose you can stay up at feasts. But you'd better have a nap this afternoon or you'll end up falling asleep."

"Thank you, Adad! I won't fall asleep!" promised Finn, and the little dwarf gleefully ran off to brag to his cousin about his good fortune.

...

That night, Fíli carefully adjusted Finn at his place at the table. The boy's head nodded forward again and he almost slid off his chair. Fíli gave up and pulled his sleeping son onto his lap. Thorin watched with amusement from his place at the head of the table.

"Hard day of playing then?" The king asked his nephew with a smile.

"No, just his first day in the forge," answered Fíli. "We were crafting a small sword together."

"Ah," said Thorin, reaching for his goblet. "I hope it went well, and he didn't nearly burn the building down as you did on your first day."

"I didn't nearly burn the- wait, did I?" said Fíli, trying to recall.

"Not quite, but nearly. As did your brother after you," said Thorin with a deep chuckle.

"What did I do?" asked Kíli, suddenly strolling up and throwing himself into his chair.

"Where did you disappear to just now?" asked Fíli, ignoring the question. Kíli rolled his eyes.

"Dís. She tried slipping into the banquet hall. Again. She's not very happy at all about Finn being allowed to stay up. Not the he's taking advantage of it very much," said Kíli with a grin, nodding at the dozing boy.

"There's nothing shameful about being tired after hard work," Thorin declared. "I'm glad you're training him well, Fíli."

"Just following in your excellent example, Uncle," said Fíli.

"No, you are much more than that. You have both made me proud," Thorin said, while gracing his nephews with a smile that become much more common in recent years.

Finn, who wasn't quite asleep after all, heartily agreed with that.

"Well, I think that's the last of them!" declared Frodo, sifting the last scoop of dirt. "I've had enough of potatoes to last me a lifetime! Or at least until Bilbo cooks them for dinner next." he amended.

Both hobbit and dwarf were covered from head to toe in dirt. Finn's golden hair was now more of a dull brown, and Frodo's eyes shone out like stars from his dirt streaked face.

They quickly piled the potatoes into the basket the farmer had left for them, and both grabbed a handle and made their way to the farmyard. The sun was just starting to set, and already it was growing colder.

Dís and Taurion were both delighted to see them, once they got over the initial shock of their grimy appearances.

"Farmer Hodgkin said we could be finished picking apples when you were done with the potatoes," said Dís, sliding down from her tree. "But really Finn, you should see yourself! Your mother would be horrified."

"Then it's just as well she isn't here," said Finn, trying to dust some of the worse dirt off his coat. "Now can we just leave and go back to Bag End?"

"You're not going anywhere yet, youngsters," said Hodgkin, briskly trotting into the orchard. He smiled craftily when they groaned as one. "Not going anywhere that is, without a small thank you. You all worked hard today, and I'm impressed you stuck to it and didn't try to run off. You can keep the bruised apples, and the mushrooms too, if you're wanting them."

"Yes please, Mr. Hodgkin," said Frodo, his delight at the last statement shining through his weariness.

"Ah, so you have manners now after all," said the farmer with a tinge of amusement.

A fierce gust of wind suddenly blew through the trees and sent both Taurion and Frodo shivering.

"Now I'm sure you'll be wanting to get home and warm. And you two could do with a wash."

And with that, Farmer Hodgkin finally handed over the apples and mushrooms that had caused so much fuss in the first place. The children bade him a respectful farewell and set off at a brisk pace back to Bag End.

"Bilbo's going to be terribly worried," said Frodo, looking up at the darkening sky. "We should have been back hours ago,"

By the time they reached Bagshot Row the wind was wretchedly cold. Bilbo met them halfway down the lane with a warm coat on and a lantern in hand. The hobbit was too relieved find them so easily to be angry at that moment, and he hurried them inside in front of the fire.

"Now what exactly happened out-" Bilbo abruptly cut off as he got his first good look at Frodo and Finn.

"Do I even want to know?" he said as he sat down in his chair wearily.

Frodo felt more guilty than ever. "I'm terribly sorry Uncle. It was all my idea. We… we went on a vegetable raid."

Bilbo stared at him disbelief for a moment. Then he laughed for a moment and ran his hand over his eyes. "I don't believe this… your guests are in the Hobbiton for less than two days, and the first thing you do is take them vegetable raiding. You realize they're going to go home and tell every dwarf they meet about it? All the Company will hear and think I'm really am raising you to be a professional burglar!"

"We won't tell anyone, we promise!" declared Taurion.

"Besides, we're just as guilty. We choose to go with him," Dís added.

"And we brought mushrooms!" finished Finn, handing Bilbo the sacks.

"Really? Mushrooms?" said Bilbo, looking slightly less cross. He examined the contents of both bags. "And caramel apples too?"

"Caramel apples?" all four exclaimed.

Bilbo pulled out a sugar coated apple sprinkled with nuts.

"Well. That was nice of Mrs. Hodgkin," Frodo said after a moment.

His uncle shook his head. "I'm quite lost. Why don't you all tell me about it at dinner?"

Frodo and the dwarflings eagerly agreed. "But bathes first!" Bilbo ordered.

...

"-And they spent so much time arguing that the sun's first light crept over the trees, and poof! They were all turned to stone!" Bilbo sat back in chair and regarded his captivated audience.

"So… you're saying that you and the entire company were almost eaten by mountain trolls because my father and Uncle Fíli weren't watching the ponies?" said Dís incredulously.

"Well, I hadn't thought about it that way before, but you're quite right," said Bilbo after a moment, taking a fill from his pipe.

"That's not the way they tell the story," said Finn uncertainly.

"Well of course they would leave that out. I bet they said they saw a light in the woods or something equally ridiculous," snorted Bilbo.

Everyone was gathered around the fireplace in the den, the same fireplace Thorin had stood in front of and began singing the Misty Mountains Cold song all those years ago, Bilbo had told them. The older hobbit was comfortable settled in his armchair, while the rest were nestled in a heap of blankets by the fire, drinking cider and roasting hazelnuts. And eating their caramel apples, of course.

"Tell another story about Adad!" begged Taurion.

"Another story about Kíli…" mused Bilbo. "Hmmm… Ah! I have just the thing. Far under the Misty Mountains, in the caves of the Goblin King, the company was being pursued by hundreds of bloodthirsty goblins…"

The dwarflings and Frodo snuggled deeper into their blankets, comforted by the known ending of the story.

"-But Kíli found himself at the head of the charge along the walkways, and a monstrous goblin archer threw itself around the corner and fired an arrow straight at his chest!"

Taurion's mouth dropped while the others leaned closer without meaning to.

"But Kíli instinctively brought his sword up, and the arrow was deflected and buried itself in another goblin! A second archer fired, and he deflected that arrow as well! Thus your father's life was saved, and the game of badminton invented at the same time! "

The end of this story met even more disbelief than the last one.

"I do believe you made that up," said Finn after a moment's thought.

"Nonsense! He told me about it himself. Besides, all good stories deserve embellishment, as the wizard Gandalf says. Now would anyone like more cider and nuts?"

There was a chorus of approval, and Dís started gathering up the mugs. Finn transferred Taurion to Frodo's lap before helping her and following Bilbo into the kitchen.

The two sat in companionable silence for a while, before Frodo caught a slight sniff.

"Are you all right, Tauri?" he asked.

Taurion sniffed again before rubbing his face with his hands.

"I miss my Ama," he whispered.

Frodo hugged the little dwarf closer and began to rock him back and forth.

"I miss mine too," he said after a few moments. "But you'll see you Ama again soon, don't worry. She's waiting for you back in the Mountain."

"Is your Ama waiting for you?" asked Taurion.

"I hope she is," said Frodo. "I hope so,"

The hobbit continued rocking the little dwarf by the fire, and soon both were asleep. Bilbo came in with the mugs of cider a few moments later and saw the most endearing sight he had ever laid eyes upon. Everyone slept by the fire that night.

Well, that's my longest chapter yet! I'm actually quite pleased with this one. Never mind I sacrificed almost all of my waking hours today to this writing this. I started writing when it was dark and now it's dark again. Homeschooling = awesome.

But I digress. Please let me know what you think and if you enjoyed it. Was there anything that stood out to you? I slipped a few details in there that only hardcore Hobbit fans would pick up on, so let me know if you noticed. Thanks for reading!