A/N: I'm so sorry it took such a long time. It was the end of the semester, which meant a lot of work. But enjoy!
A few months later.
"Tell me again why we had to take the pony express?"
Bilbo didn't answer that question. The whole way to Bree had consisted of complaining, complaining and complaining. "Why are we going to Bree?" "Why didn't we take the Eagle train?" "Why aren't there more mushrooms?"
He was sick of it. It hadn't been easy to arrange a gig, with their history of not-that-successful performances and with a new bandmember no one had seen live yet. Bree was local, small and, as Kili said: "completely below their standards". But they had no other choice. And Bilbo hoped that they would realize that too, preferably before the end.
"I hope they have mushrooms."
"Could you stop talking about mushrooms?"
"I just like mushrooms."
"Shut up, all of you!"
Bilbo sighed and turned towards the gate. He knocked. A hatch above them opened and was closed again. Only a moment later a second hatch, this time at hobbitlevel, was opened and a unpleasant looking face was visible.
"Well, well," he said. "Seven hobbits. That's a sight you don…"
"We're not hobbits!" Kili said angrily.
"And I am here too," Legolas said. He threw his cap off, which showed his almost luminous blond hair. "I am also not a hobbit," he added, completely unnecessary.
"Well… er…" the man was confused now. "I see… And er… So, what's your business?"
"Our business is our own…"
"We're a band," Bilbo said quickly, cutting Kili off. "We have a gig at the Prancing Pony. Butterbur, that's the name of the man that hired us."
The man raised his eyebrows.
"Alright," he said. "Good luck with that. It's a full house." He opened the gate and then pointed them in the right direction.
Before they entered the bar, Bilbo turned around and said: "Please, please, let me handle this. And don't ask about mushrooms!"
They all grumbled.
"I won't," Legolas said earnestly.
Bilbo pushed open the door and found himself in a large room full of talking and laughter. He made his way to the bar, with the rest of the band (and Frodo and Sam) behind him.
"Er… excuse me!" he shouted. A moment passed and then a bald man appeared.
"Good evening, little masters," he said. "My name is Butterbur. Barliman, Butterbur. What can I do for you? If you're looking for accommodation, we have some nice rooms just for hobbits, on ground level with…"
"We're not hobbits!" Kili said.
Butterbur looked strangely at Kili, so Bilbo decided to get down to business.
"We're the Fellows," he said. "The band, you know."
The man responded by thinking very hard.
"Fellows…" he said. "Fellows? Oh yes. I remember. That's that band. With the heir of the steward of Gondor in it." Bilbo almost said something about that, but then Butterbur said: "They're not here."
Bilbo just stared at him in confusion for a moment.
"No… We're the Fellows. We are the band."
"Oh…" The man was quiet for a while. "Are you looking for accommodation?"
"What? No!" What was wrong with this man? "We're here to perform. I'm Bilbo Baggins. We talked over the phone."
"Baggins?"
"Yes!"
"Oh, of course." Finally. "But you would be here the 28th."
"It is the 28th!"
"Really?" Everyone nodded, except for Legolas who said "yes" in a grave manner, as if it was a case of life or death. "Alright then. Nob!"
A cheery looking hobbit appeared.
"It's the band, Nob," Butterbur explained. "You can bring them to the waiting room." Then he said to the band: "It's gonna be a good night, I think. There is such a crowd already in the house tonight as there hasn't been for long enough. Good luck!"
As Bilbo followed Nob to the room, he thought that they would probably need all the luck they could get.
