AN: I do not own the Hobbit, its characters or places. I merely decided to play with them one day.
Chapter Three – A Lull.
Bilbo, his mind made up, pottered about Bag End as he waited for Dwalin to awake. He knew unless one knew him well he would look the same and he intended to keep that appearance until he could scream loudly at the wizard. The meddling old fool might have meant well, Bilbo didn't know, but he had sent thirteen strangers to his home without so much as a by-your-leave, so yes Bilbo was ready to scream at the old man. He automatically attempted to tidy the smial, he paused in the middle of putting his books away. He was actually doing quite well. The kitchen was spotless, the copper pans gleaming and odds and ends put tidily away, he would need the space in there to cook for fifteen bodies. The sitting room had been meticulously tidied, its windows were flung wide and its tables clear of parchment and books. Bilbo had paused in putting the books away as he realised he could simply shut the door to his study. Huffing at his own stupidity, he left the room the way it was deliberately shutting the door with a soft snick behind him. His guest bedrooms were always tidy and so he made short work of making the beds up, to his embarrassment he realised people would have to share, but from what he had gathered from Dwalin talking last night a soft bed would be enough to push that to one side. Besides it wasn't like dwarfen hospitality meshed completely with hobbits'. Perhaps some of them may prefer to share, he would give them that option and it would hopefully settle his problem for him. The bathing room was tidy and the only change he made was to fill the shelves with towels from his airing closet.
The sun was high in the sky and there was still no sign of movement from his guest so Bilbo started to cook. His larder and pantry were full as were the many cupboards in the kitchen. He decided on a simple stew and some of the rosemary bread from yesterday for his guest as it was too late for breakfast. He took some of his frustrations out on making some new loaves, he felt a twinge of satisfaction as he took in the mounds of olive dough, rosemary dough and a several bowls of plain wholemeal dough proving on the window sill. He braised some rabbit in a smaller pan and added carrots and onions along with several springs of thyme and a bottle of Hamfast's pale ale. He allowed it to simmer as he turned his attention onto making enough food for fifteen people, thirteen of whom would likely be ravenous. Standing in his pantry Bilbo grinned as he took in the shelves full of fresh ingredients, well at least he wouldn't be embarrassed by running out of food. Several trips later he was hot and shrugged out of his over shirt, leaving him in his vest and trousers. He decided on starting the potato dishes first. He whistled to himself as he filled a deep casserole dish with lamb mince, garden peas and mint before topping with slices of potato and lashings of grated cheese. He placed it on the table ready to go in when the oven was hot enough, before turning his attention to start the next dish, chicken thighs were dumped into a large pan, followed by thyme, bay and a jug of water. He added tomatoes, small hot peppers from his garden, several onions and measured out the rice ready to go in later.
Dwalin had awoken to the peaceful sound of someone whistling in the distance. The sun shone through a leaded window and his body seemed supported by a cloud. He stretched feeling his joints pop loudly. He was in no hurry to get up and he actually felt safe for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace with himself and was in no hurry to ruin the strange feeling. He snuggled deeper under the heavy quilt, enjoying the smell of lavender and sandalwood that seemed to hover around it. His head was cushioned on the softest pillows Dwalin had ever known in his life, something tickled his ear and he swore realising one of his braids must have worked loose. That and the delicious smells wafting into his room-he was astounded at how nice that sounded and (although he would deny it forever) did a happy dance-forced him from his bed. Looking around the room, the previous day came flooding back to him and Dwalin sat heavily back down on the bed. Soon though a happy smile was gracing his face making him look decades younger, there was a gleam in his eye and he picked up the whistling himself, easily following the merry tune. His hands worked swiftly untangling his many braids and drawing what he had left of his long, thick hair back into a simple plait. He looked at his boots and weapons, remembering his host's promise the night before. He straightened his shoulders, he would show Bilbo he was trustworthy in return. Instead of going through the endless job of replacing his weapons and boots, Dwalin merely tidied them into a neat pile. As the air was warm he also shrugged out of his furs and the worst of his mail. He felt naked without them all, but he remembered his host had promised he was safe and for some reason he trusted the smaller man. So barefooted and weapon-less he followed his nose to the kitchen. His eyes widened as he reached the open door. The table was piled high with dishes ready to be cooked, the stove itself was already busy and his host was standing in vest and trousers, studding a pork joint with cloves. He leant on the doorjamb content to take in the sights before him.
Bilbo knew his checks were flushed but he was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had entertained and he had forgotten how invigorating cooking for a large amount of people could be. He grinned as he checked the temperature of the oven with the back of his hand and once satisfied slid the joint in. He'd followed his mother's recipe for the pork, the pang in his heart soothed by the knowledge she would have been proud of him. The joint was massive and it had taken awhile to stud it with the cloves, but between those and the orange slices Bilbo had managed to arrange under its skin he knew it would be delicious. He spun happily on the spot, smiling more widely when he saw his guest watching him from the doorway. "Come in Master Dwalin, don't stand on ceremony," Bilbo rapidly cleared a place on the table for his guest to sit at, "I hope you don't mind but it's stew and bread for lunch as it is far beyond even second breakfast and elevenses." He saw the dwarf's eyes crinkle and finally figure it meant he was smiling gently. "Excellent," Bilbo chirped happily setting a large bowl of steaming stew down in front of the dwarf followed swiftly by the bread and a mug of strong black coffee, "If the drink is too bitter for your liking Master Dwalin I have milk." He spun away to carry on with his cooking.
Dwalin watched him flit around as he ate the delicious stew in front of him, how someone could make a few vegetables and rabbit taste so nice he would never figure out. The smaller man seemed to be in his element as he moved gracefully around the large room. Dwalin's eyes widened when he finally realised just how many of the dishes surrounding him contained meat of some kind. He was in such shock that he didn't realise his host had stopped and was looking at him unsurely. "Master Dwalin?" Bilbo asked worriedly, and Dwalin felt a strong desire to set him at his ease, "I haven't done anything wrong have I?" Dwalin watched the hobbit flap his hands at the mountains of food.
"Relax Bilbo," he rumbled voice still rough from sleep, "I was merely surprised at how much effort you were willing to go to for a bunch of uninvited strangers." He held up a large hand to stop the hobbit from talking, and smiled gently at him hoping the smaller man would actually know it was a smile. "I am not annoyed, how can I be when not only have you accepted me into your home, but you have taken care of me and treated me with kindness. I am now finding out you intend to do so for my kith and kin." Dwalin leant forward and caught one of the long fingered hands in his own giving it a gentle squeeze. "No Bilbo," he stated softly, still holding onto that hand, despite it being improper for him to do so, "You have done nothing wrong." He felt himself relax as the hobbit smiled shyly at him, "It will just take a long while before any dwarf can just accept someone would be willing to go for this effort for us." He squeezed the hand again watching an indignant expression cross his host's face, "I know you are going to say it is nothing, but trust me Bilbo it is something to me." He sighed and reached his other hand to brush flour from the hobbit's nose, "It will be something to those who come today." He straightened, fighting down a blush, as he released his host. "I know you said I was a guest and not to do anything, but is there anything I can do to help?"
Bilbo looked at him carefully, he was shocked by how much physical contact Dwalin was accepting and even starting himself, from what he had learnt of dwarves it was considered improper outside of family. He would still wait and see how the others acted before he judged though. At the larger man's question he smiled. "No Master Dwalin," he cocked his head thinking, "Unless you would like a bath?" He smiled as the grey eyes lit up, "It's down the hall, third door on the left, there is plenty of hot water so don't worry" He had to chuckle as the dwarf was out of the room almost before he was finished speaking. It was sweet how much home comforts effected the man. Bilbo frowned. If everything Dwalin had told him was right then he was going to go out of his way to make this a night his visitors would never forget.