Chapter Eight
The moon was bright and barely a cloud covered the stars. It was exactly the kind of night that Bilbo used to like best for walking and he was tempted to hum one of his many walking songs as they went. Somehow, though, he didn't think his companions would appreciate it.
An hour is not a long walk for a dwarf, nor for a hobbit who is inclined towards such things. It seemed easy too for the wizard, who was far more capable of exercise than his aging appearance might suggest. When the three reached Bywater they noticed lights shining through the windows of many hobbit holes as well as in the Green Dragon, which they found to be doing a good evening's trade. It was several minutes before they could order a round of ale from the bar, and would have been longer had the woman serving not been interested in the strangers.
"And here's three," the woman said, placing the last mug down in front of Bilbo. "Can I be getting you anything else?"
"Now that you ask," Gandalf said, "We seem to have found ourselves in need of some provisions. Is there someone we could talk to?"
The general chatter and laughter drowned out the barmaid's answer but she disappeared with a smile. A moment later she reappeared and pointed Gandalf out to her companion, who made his way towards them.
"My missus says you'll be wanting provisions," the hobbit said. He had a kind face, round and framed with curly brown hair. "What is it you'll be needing?"
Bilbo thought it best to let Gandalf and Thorin take care of business. He sipped his mug of ale, which for the first time in his life was a whole pint instead of the half usually served in the Shire, and let his thoughts wander. He was surprised to find that he had drunk all but the dregs when Thorin gripped his shoulder.
"I said, pass over your pack."
Bilbo realised that Thorin had probably asked several times before being able to get his attention. He did as requested, and watched as it was packed with eggs, safely tucked inside a bag full of grass to stop them breaking, an entire ham, a stalk of tomatoes and other breakfast foods.
Thorin's grip had been firm; Bilbo could still feel it after the dwarf let him go. He found he didn't mind the sensation, which he might normally have called pain. No doubt it would bruise, but no real damage had been done. He slung his pack onto his back, ready to leave, and found that the strap pressed where he was most sore. Bilbo didn't complain, though, even if he also thought the pack unnecessarily heavy.
"Farewell, until tomorrow." Gandalf made it clear that he was speaking to both Thorin and Bilbo, but Bilbo knew that Thorin didn't share the wizard's high opinion of hobbits. He was completely unaware that Gandalf's high opinion didn't stretch to all hobbits, most of whom are kind and gentle folk but rustic and too fond of home to be of any use in an adventure. All Bilbo understood was that Thorin thought Mr. Baggins to be unequal to the task required of him.
If the truth must be told, Bilbo wasn't completely comfortable with the thought of an hour's walk with no company but the dwarf. He bade Gandalf goodnight and made for the door, wishing he was tucked up in bed with no guests and a full pantry. There was nothing to be done about the situation in his hobbit hole, so Bilbo left the Green Dragon without looking back.
The moment he stepped outside, Bilbo found the inside of the inn to be a very inviting place, despite the crowds and the noise. He would probably have enjoyed the walk, he thought, had he been alone. There wasn't the slightest breath of wind and the temperature hadn't dropped too cold, but it wasn't the weather that made him unhappy with the prospect of the journey home.
As they took the road out of Bywater, Thorin behaved exactly as Bilbo had feared, striding a short way ahead and not speaking to the hobbit. The lights of the village faded away behind them and the road ahead ran further than they could see by the moon and stars. Bilbo didn't bother trying to keep up with Thorin; after all, the way was easy to follow even for those who didn't know the area.
After around a mile, Thorin stopped. Bilbo reached him, and the dwarf marched on at Bilbo's side. Thorin was clearly not tired enough to need a rest, and until he spoke Bilbo didn't know why Thorin had waited.
"Do you feel you know us all well enough to come on this journey?" Thorin asked.
"Know you! I doubt I could name you all!" Bilbo exclaimed. It was hard to tell in the dark, but he thought he saw Thorin smile. It was a look that suited his rugged features nearly as well as the stern authority usually written across his face.
"Try," Thorin said, and it wasn't a request.
"Dwalin arrived first," Bilbo managed without too much difficulty. "Then Balin, and after that it was the two brothers… Kili and Fili. You're Thorin, of course," he added, wondering if he should have said that first. Thorin didn't reply and Bilbo kept on thinking out loud. "Bombur's the one who ate so much cheese," he said, after trying and failing to find a polite way to describe the overweight dwarf. "The youngest is Dori… No, Ori. Dori's older and Nori's the middle brother."
"Good," Thorin said. "Four more."
It soon became clear that Bilbo wasn't going to manage to name any more of the dwarves, so Thorin finished the list for him. "Oin, who carries an ear trumpet and a small chest of medications. Gloin, red hair to match his temper. Bofur has probably already treated you to a tune from his flute, wears a silly cap. Bifur… you might have noticed the axe stuck in his skull. I wouldn't bother talking to him, the injury makes him a little temperamental. He only speaks our Dwarf tongue, anyway."
Bilbo felt his mouth drop open.
