Fire crackled softly on the hearth, and the floor was cozy to the touch of his feet.

Bilbo smiled.

The fire was warm, his hole was snug, and snow drifted lazily down outside his window. His supper would be done cooking soon.

All was as it should be in the world.

The bell rang.

Bilbo scowled.

Then he sighed, and he went to the door.

On the opposite side he was met by a bevy of smiling faces, bright hoods and curls and hats and scarves, all thrust forward under the light of a pair of swinging lanterns two of their number carried aloft.

He'd been hoping not to do this tonight.

The crowd did not give him a chance to protest – really, there was nothing he could do beyond shutting the door in their faces to be rid of them. It was tradition, and tradition was not to be put aside for something so inconsequential as personal taste. It was enough for talk that Mr. Baggins did not go with a caroling group. It would not do should tales spread that he was turning them away from his door.

Regardless.

They gave him no chance to voice his dissent, but burst into a merry chorus.

Bilbo waited, and tried to look somewhat as if he was in the spirit of the thing.

Finally, they had done, and stood, looking at him, expectantly and a little breathless.

Bilbo got the basket from beside the door, and offered each of his tormentors a wrapped notion from the basket kept there for just the purpose.

With many bobbed heads and promises of good will for the season, they left, and Bilbo could finally shut the cold out. He hoped, feebly, that that would be the last of it for the night.

It was not.

Hand over the fire, he was so badly startled by another pull of the bell not ten minutes later that his oven mitt was very nearly scorched beyond repair.

That time the group was predominantly made up of children, so Bilbo did his best to look entertained. He was, however, no less pleased to see them go.

Half-way into his seat for his supper, the bell was rung a third time, rather harshly, and the opened door revealed Lotho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Only. Lotho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. They had chosen not only the longest song from the traditional list which they performed in duet, but Bilbo was certain that they had made up at least three verses and shoved them somewhere inside it because he wasn't listening and certainly the song had never been this long before.

They scowled at the parcels he offered them, and Bilbo said several unkind – but not entirely un-true – things about them after he had shut the door.

Shuddering, he pulled his sleeves down far as they would go, and shuffled back to his fire and his almost-despaired-of supper.

The bell rang a fourth time.

Bilbo leapt up, "Confusticate these traditions!" he snapped, and he pulled the door roughly open, only to see a figure alone. A figure, tall for a Hobbit, in a red hood, looking off down the way.

"Balin?"

The Dwarf turned and beamed at him. "It's good to see you, my Lad,"

Glancing furtively behind the Dwarf, Bilbo drew him forward, "Come in, quickly,"

Bilbo bolted the door. "You're just in time," he kicked the mat out from under the door, "for supper."

"Has there been trouble?" Balin asked.

"No, no," Bilbo checked to be sure about the bolt – absolutely sure – and realized how odd this must look to his guest.

Sure enough, Balin was watching him in concern.

"Just, ah…" Bilbo decided he could explain over supper. He shrugged. "Carolers."