Memories
Bifur wasn't stupid. No matter what people thought, he was far from stupid. He knew that people had different reactions after seeing him. There was those who were scared, those who worshipped him as a war hero and those who pitied him. But never he saw anyone like Bilbo Baggings. The hobbit had glanced at them when they fell in his home, then turned to talk with Gandalf, not bothered by the axe in his head. That had confused Bifur greatly.
The burglar looked soft, he was fussy, fretted over his empty pantry, but the axe didn't bother him at all. The dwarf had watched him closely on the journey, and each time he thought nobody was watching him, he had that far away look, pinched lips and sad, old eyes. One time, Bilbo had spotted him, glancing at him and approached him. "How do you do Master Bifur? How do you ignore all the ones who badmouth you, think you are daft because of this axe?" He had asked, pointing at the weapon in his head and Bifur tilted his head to the side, confused about what brought this theme up. He grunted and tried to explain in Iglishmek. Bilbo pursed his lips.
"I can't understand you. How are we… Oh I know. Master Bifur can you still write Westron?" Bifur shrugged, he never really tried. "For once I'm glad this rain fell." He said, finding a stick and presenting it to the dwarf. Taking it, Bofur's cousin focused greatly and started writing in the mud. "Forget about them. They are idiots. I am me. You are you." Bilbo read out loud. He sat back on the trunk and watched intently the fire.
"You know Master Bifur, I never wanted to be respectable. I wanted to be like my ma. She went on adventures with Gandalf, met the elves of Rivendell. She fulfilled her wanderlust. I wanted to be just like her. But my pa, he was the most proper Baggings ever. He wanted me to be a gentlehobbit. They used to fight a lot because of that. They loved each other to death, but on the way to raise me, they had very different opinions. One day, I couldn't take it anymore, the fighting over me. I spent the whole day acting, like my pa wanted me to act. I read by the fire, gardened, ate my seven meals, drank tea and read some more. I never saw my pa prouder of me than that day. I was glad I finally made him proud. Don't look at me like that, he loved me very much, he just didn't like the way I was acting. But as I was saying, my ma had been so angry. I've never seen her like that. The fight was even worse that night. I didn't know what to do, so I ran away. I left for my cousin's house and stayed the night there. When my cousin came to bring me back in the morning, I've never seen my parents so worried. They hugged me hard and told me to be whatever I wanted to be. A few months after that, my pa died, and I promised to myself to be the proper hobbit he wished for me to be. A lot of people started gossiping and I did my best to shut them out. But now that I've ran out my smial, following 13 dwarrows and a wizard, my reputation will never recover. I don't know how I will ignore them when I return home."
Bifur listened attentively to what he said and wrote. "Your father is him. You are you. Stop being something you are not." Bilbo smiled at him. "I'll try. I promise I'll try Master Bifur." The dwarf smiled in return and they spent that evening getting to know each other better.
Next: Bombur