A/N: I've decided to use Thorin's character as it was in the film, because though I am loathe to admit it it seemed a bit deeper and likelier to come about than the one in the book. Tolkien's Thorin was a bit flippant about the hardships the dwarves went through after Smaug, and the Company seemed primarily interested in the gold and getting rich than helping their people recover from the disaster.

And the dwarves were mostly one-dimensional characters, whereas the films gave them actual traits and hidden depths.

No tunes in this chapter, since Bilbo doesn't play or sing anything. I did find some awesome ones that gave me some ideas for the next installment, which will finally start the journey, and not in any way you guys might expect.

The Shire – 2: Masterfully Miscommunicated

"-. .-"

Bilbo didn't think his satisfaction at running those big lumps out of his kitchen like terrified fauntlings would dwindle any time soon. Even after Fili and Kili helped move the food that had finished cooking and settled on their own seats, he was still very smug inside, even if he didn't show it. So one might imagine his surprise when that self-satisfaction totally popped like a balloon no more than fifteen minutes after he laid down the law. And, as was the case with so very many things, it was all Dwalin's fault.

"Excuse me, Master Dwalin, what?" Bilbo sputtered, freezing in mid-motion from where he was reaching forward to place a tray of smoked beef on the table in the main dining room. "What did you say had become of Gandalf?"

In any other situation it would have been amusing to see the large dwarf sitting so stiffly. "He's been in the room across the hall since he got tired of being harassed by this dam-" Bilbo almost pulled the tray away, and Dwalin cut himself off with a glowering grimace. "Harassed by your home." The dwarf gave the meat a hungry look but thought better than to reach for it. Bilbo could just decide to really reconsider and take it away.

Bilbo focused outward, knowing his eyes would go unfocused, but he didn't care what he looked like now. Images and impressions flittered across his awareness and when he finally had an idea of what he'd missed, he groaned and finally set the tray on the table, ignoring how his guests descended on it like starving beasts. "Oh Eru!" He frowned at the bald dwarf, noticing from the corner of his eye that Balin seemed very curious about the exchange. And not just him. "And you didn't feel it relevant enough to mention?" The hobbit hissed.

Dwalin peered at him suspiciously, looking around nervously while still chewing on a half-swallowed strip of meat. "Wasn't that what you wanted?" He asked, lowly. Lowly for a dwarf anyway. "I thought you controlled everything this house does!" He hissed back.

"I do! But I don't always pay attention! Bag End has its own mind!" The hobbit groaned again, rubbing at his temples. "Here I've been thinking I was a decent host, but now it seems I'm terrible!'

"No don't say that mister Boggi-" The blazing wood in the fireplace crackled like a collapsing tree house and Bilbo's glare settled firmly on the youngest prince's face. "Baggins!" Kili hastily corrected. "You're a wonderful host! Great!"

"Perfect!" Fili hurried to add when his brother elbowed him in the side.

"Marvelous!" Bofur hastened to add.

"Splendid!"

"Attentive!"

"Mighty thoughtful!"

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the increasingly ridiculous and not-at-all heartfelt praises and walked out of the room, knowing Bombur would see to the rest until he had to go check on the roast and pies.

Now that he'd shoved the distraction provided by the dwarves aside, he could sense that Bag End wasn't only gushing over the new creatures anymore. There was something else, which Bilbo would have normally noticed if there weren't 12 dwarves taking up his attention. Something like wariness and, for the first time ever, defiant protectiveness.

That was new, and it made Bilbo frown. Bag End had never reacted defensively before, on his behalf or its own, because there had never been anyone it felt could pose a threat. Had Gandalf unnerved it somehow?

Bilbo went through what he knew of Maia and tried to hypothesize what would happen if one of them and Bag End clashed in a confrontation of will and being.

When he reached the obvious conclusion, he winced.

But Bag End had not felt threatened by Gandalf the previous day, when the rune episode happened. Which meant that something had to have happened over the past two hours for the new wariness to make sense.

Bilbo found Gandalf in the sitting room closest to the entrance hallway. The Wizard was on an armchair, nibbling on his pipe which, Bilbo noticed, was not lit, nor had any tobacco in it. His eyes were closed, but the hobbit doubted his arrival had gone unnoticed. With a thought, the air outside the room stilled. No sounds would escape that room until he willed otherwise. "Gandalf."

The wizard had not taken his hat off, and the outside light had gone dim, making everything seem shrouded in semi-darkness, but his blue-grey eyes were perfectly visible when they finally opened. "Bilbo." He moved his pipe away from his mouth and favored him with a wry smile. "Come to finally take pity on an old man?" Back when he was a child, Bilbo's mother had often said that despite how aggravating the wizard could be, she could never really stay mad at him for long because he just gave you this look and…

Bilbo sighed explosively, trudged over to grab another armchair and dragged it right in front of the one Gandalf had taken. Bag End made it easy for him to pull furniture around like that.

The hobbit threw himself in the chair groaned in relief. Hosting a company of dwarves was hard work. He didn't allow himself too long a moment, though, before he met the surprisingly earnest gaze of the wizard. "Gandalf." A beat. "It seems I have wronged you. I apologize."

The wizard's thick eyebrows disappeared under the brim of his hat.

"I am very cross with you," Bilbo carried on before he could chicken out. "But I never intended to repay your rude actions of the past day with more than the occasional glower. I never intended nor ordered my home to harass you in the matter that has only just been brought to my attention. Had I not been preoccupied with the others, Bag End's actions towards you, or rather against you, would not have gone past my notice-"

"-Bilbo-"

"-TURNABOUT is fair play," Bilbo continued. He was determined to say his piece. "But on that note my own treatment of you would have been sufficient. Especially when I have been going on about my reputation as a perfect host, which I definitely am not anymore now that I have discriminated between my guests in such a loathsome manner. What Bag End has done in retaliation was disproportionate-"

"Bilbo-"

"-regardless of how endearing it was if it was on my behalf, though I am not altogether sure it was on mine, since I haven't mind-melded deeply enough to check yet-"

"-BILBO!"

The hobbit shut his mouth with a dull clamp and pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at the wizard who'd sat up in his chair, looking aggravated. Gandalf was looking at him as if he'd seen him for the first time and wasn't sure what race he belonged to.

It felt oddly appropriate.

"Interrupting someone is rude you know," Bilbo said in the ensuing silence.

The wizard harrumphed, easing back in his chair. "I think we are both well past the point where we pay heed to such concerns, are we not?"

"I suppose s-" Bilbo jerked in his seat at the rush of caution-suspicion- alarm that came over him.

The hobbit and wizard shared an uncomfortable and heavy silence for a time.

"I assume that was your home warning you clear of me?" Gandalf asked, a touch contrite. "It is not entirely undeserved, I fear."

That admission completely swept away all pretenses. "What on earth happened?" Bilbo breathed, not sure who he was directing that question to.

Gandalf smiled sadly. "Such amazing creatures, Hobbits. You can learn everything about them in a year, and even after so long they can still surprise you."

Bilbo grimaced. "I think we both know I'm not longer a normal hobbit."

"Oh, but you are," And Gandalf sounded totally certain of that. "You just added some extra facets."

"… You'll be grilling me for information then I suppose?" Bilbo wasn't sure how he would react to an interrogation.

"Honestly, no," Gandalf reached up and removed his hat at last, placing it on a counter nearby. He'd probably kept it on until that point because he doubted it would meet a pleasant fate if he left it behind somewhere, out of sight. "I do have questions, but also theories. And I believe I shall find the challenge of putting the puzzle of you together quite refreshing."

Bilbo was actually pleasantly surprised by that. "I think I'm starting to see why mother liked you."

"Belladonna Took was a dear friend." And there was no lie or indulgence in that statement. "Perhaps someday I will be able to call you by a similar title."

Bilbo eyed the man evenly. It was honestly rather baffling that Gandalf the Grey would seek out companionship among the simple folk of The Shire. Or that the wizard seemed so fond and careful of hobbits as a whole. The hobbit knew that the Grey Pilgrim was a significant reason of why the Rangers of the old Kingdom of Arnor still guarded the borders of the Shire from the darkness.

He told Gandalf as much.

The reaction was delight. "Perhaps if you one day call me by a similar title I will share the reasons for that with you." Yes, delight indeed. Delight at the possibility of leaving the Hobbit hanging.

Well, turnabout was fair play.

The Master of Bag End knew he looked like he'd swallowed something sour, but he didn't bother with putting on a performance anymore. "Well, friendship still depends on your explanation of what happened between you and my home."

"I knew something was… strange when I came and found my rune gone," Gandalf started, looking out the window at the rapidly disappearing twilight. "I should have detected the… presence yesterday, but I fear I did your home the same disfavor I did you." Gandalf looked at him again. "Which is to say, I acted on false assumptions. With you it was the brazen assumption that I could steamroll into your life simply based on the fact that I had a very close rapport with your mother. Or perhaps I have grown proud and self-centered in my old age, though it is no excuse for treating you as if I had… as if I felt I should have more say in your life than yourself. It was unsightly of me, and I hope you will one day forgive me."

Bilbo forced himself to nod and not show his stupefaction openly. This sincere apology was not what he expected.

"As for Bag End," Gandalf gestured around them with his pipe. "The… sentience… came to my attention when I stepped through the door earlier, and I fear I acted rather rashly."

Bilbo blinked. "You tried to mind link …" He realized.

The grey-robed wizard nodded gravely. "It was not my intention to appear hostile. I was… merely curious, and until our minds touched I did not think there was any sentience, in truth. I thought it was your mind I was reaching for, and when I did not get the reaction I expected, I may have… pushed harder as I called for you specifically."

The understanding dawned on Bilbo with none of the relief and satisfaction that such an event would normally bring. "You scared it…"

"I did not wish to, I assure you of that." Gandalf seemed to become tired all of a sudden. "But I did frighten it, though it reacted thus more on your behalf than anything else. I attempted to soothe it, but your home had no reason to trust me after I essentially committed physical harm upon it not a day before."

"That didn't hurt it, exactly," Bilbo was a bit bewildered by all these revelations, so he hoped Gandalf would excuse how he latched on the least relevant part of his confession. "I toss knives at walls all the time and the scratches and cuts mend in minutes. Your magic just… felt wrong."

"Invasive," the old man nodded. "I would have tried communicating again, more gently, but your home decided to show its displeasure with me in a more direct fashion, so I felt it prudent to wait until I could clear things up with you."

Bilbo Baggins stared at the wizard until it was almost long enough to be considered rude. "Or you could have intimidated it into submission."

"…"

"I'm not a simpleton, Gandalf." It may have been a touch cooler than he intended, but it was too late to take it back. "I know what you are. I know you could have obliterated-"

"BILBO BAGGINS!"

Bilbo flinched and shut up.

There was a cloud of darkness around the wizard for a moment and Bilbo could feel Bag End straining between shrinking away in fright and reacting violently against the disturbance.

It came to neither.

Gandalf's whole body seemed to suddenly lose all strength. The wizard slumped back in his chair, looking older and more exhausted than Bilbo had ever seen anyone. "I have gathered many names over the centuries." There was a bone-deep weariness in the man's voice. "I do not wish to add bully and slayer of children to the list."

Bilbo felt like he'd been hit in the stomach with the blunt side of a shovel. Once, he might have bristled at the implications, but he was no normal hobbit anymore, nor a young one, so he could tell the remark had not been referring to him. "Gandalf…" Bilbo rubbed his temple. This discussion was a bit heavy for the late hour. Good thing he'd eaten his fill while cooking that feast. Even so, the wizard was probably seeing more things to be guilty of than there really were. "I'm not sure you can apply the same aging conventions to a house as you can a man or hobbit."

Some spark of amusement seemed to come back to life in those old eyes. "And yet your home chose to confront me on its own, and behind your back, by throwing a temper tantrum, no matter how many logical reasons existed for that to be deemed unwise."

Bilbo thought back to that time when Billa Bracegirdle had accepted the marriage proposal from one of the Tooks across the water. Later in the day, when Billa left for the seamstress, her fauntling brother Bruno picked up a trowel and attacked the groom-to-be, declaring loudly that he would defeat him and protect his sister so that she wouldn't be taken away.

Bag End may have realized it was too young an existence and not (yet maybe) powerful enough to take on someone like Gandalf, so it wasn't a reaction born from ignorance. Probably. Let it never be said Bilbo held no loyalty towards his creation. "It wasn't a tantrum." Let it also never be said that Bilbo Baggins was above teasing his own creations. "The way it's been mooning over the dwarves is pretty hilarious and childish though."

Gandalf blinked and smiled, leaning forward. "Oh? Do tell."

Bilbo eyed him askance and made his decision. "I think I have something better." Reaching out with his mind, he treated his house to the best impression of an unimpressed owner and told it to suck up and get over his initial impression. "Try communicating now."

The wizard looked surprised, then reluctant, but after a while he finally placed his pipe (which he'd kept gesturing with through their conversation) into some pocket or other and settled back in his chair. After that, it only took a moment for something new but somehow familiar to connect to the same… node, Bilbo supposed, he and Bag End met in every time they communed like this. All of a sudden, there were three lines meeting in a center, not just two. Bilbo could feel the youngest mind shying away in suspicion, but he coaxed it forward until Gandalf and Bag End finally introduced themselves to each other.

Bilbo, eyes closed, relaxed and smiled at the successful communication. Gandalf was minding his manners and not digging where he wasn't supposed to, which meant that Bilbo and his house could still trade thoughts and knowing without the wizard realizing. Well, he probably could deduce it was happening, but he was not privy to the "discussion" all the same.

Which meant that he didn't know that Bag End only agreed to open itself to Gandalf because Bilbo assured it that old Tom and the river daughter wouldn't stand for anyone harming their grandchild.

Gandalf probably had more of a point than he realized, about children and rash retorts.

After all, Bag End was Bilbo's firstborn, after a fashion.

Once his home finally got over its initial impression and began to tentatively brush its mind against the Wizard's by its own initiative, Bilbo slowly pulled out of the connection and blinked away the haze that always lingered after that deep a communion. Seeing Gandalf sitting back, eyes closed and content, fascinated even, he soundlessly slipped out of the room.

He still had some pies and cakes to finish after all, and that turkey was not going to come out of the oven alone.

"-. .-"

Kili would be lying if he said that wanting to get away (for a while) from the expectations of acting as "befitting" an Heir of the Durin line didn't play any part in his decision to join his uncle on this mad quest.

A quest to reclaim a mountain, and slay a dragon.

But it was only one reason of many, and not even the main one. No, the main one was that he wanted to finally do something to repay his uncle and mother for everything they went through while raising him. And, okay, Fili too, but mostly he was the one that sought mischief when they were little, while Fili kept curbing the worst of his impulses while acting as though he was egging him on.

Kili doubted Thorin even now knew Fili had never actually planned any of their unruly behavior when they were children.

He also doubted Thorin knew how sorry Kili was for all the messes he caused as a dwarfling. Now, with the wisdom of age (though his mother would probably laugh at the idea he was anywhere resembling old and wise, and not just because he barely had a stubble) he could look back on those early days and know how often Thorin and Dis had trouble making enough money to get by. He could recognize the instances when the adults told them to go ahead and eat without them because they had people to meet or some last minute work to do. There were never such loose ends but Thorin and Dis didn't want them to know they were rationing the food they ate so he and Fili wouldn't have to.

History had dealt the dwarves a harsh hand, which meant that if they were to ever regain anything of what they'd lost they'd have to do it themselves.

So Kili had badgered and pestered and argued with those older than him until they relented and let him leave the Blue Mountains with the others. Well, the ones that happened to be there at the time anyway, since some were already on business on the other side of Eriador. He felt guilty for feeling glad that so few had answered Thorin's call. He was sure he and Fili would have been left behind if more dwarves had actually come forward.

As it was, the only ones that were warriors by profession were Dwalin, Dori, Thorin, Balin, Thorin of course, and the two of them, the youngest in the company. Well, Bifur too, never mind the axe head stuck in his… head, but anyway, their group was otherwise a company of bakers, toymakers, scribes, artists, crooks…

Kili knew Balin didn't have faith in this quest, that he thought it was wiser to stay in the Blue mountains. Thorin had managed to finally secure a life of comfort and plenty for them, and Kili agreed that it was better than how it used to be, and it was good not to have to be on the road all the time, dependent on Men and whatever business they could offer, assuming they even were willing to deal with dwarves in the first place.

But Thorin had sent a call. He'd even gotten an envoy sent from the Iron hills. Lord Dain Ironfoot himself, Thorin's cousin, was to come himself. And so Balin had gone against his pessimism and joined in, like the rest of them.

Thorin had doubts too, Kili knew. Sure, Gandalf had given him the key of King Thrain (and Kili's stomach still turned at the thought of his grandfather tortured by that dark force in Dol Guldur until he didn't even remember his own name). But Tharkûn refused to share more unless they followed his lead and met up in the Shire, of all places, to find a burglar, of all things.

Nori had grumbled for days, wondering why he wasn't good enough. Kili had wondered too.

But the wizard was wily. He had a way with words, and the way he acted, as though he felt entitled to having his opinion heard and his direction followed without question, was a lot like Thorin sometimes. And he was damn intimidating too.

And in the end, they all shared the same opinion, that the wizard was needed to deal with the dragon, so they may as well see what his whole idea about a hobbit burglar was all about. No matter how skeptical, rightfully or otherwise, they felt about the entire business. After all, what could the gentle folk know of adventure? What did hobbits know of burglary?

The Shire seemed to reinforce their doubts.

Then they finally found Bag End.

A hole in the ground.

A ludicrously cozy hole in the ground that made them feel more at home than they did anywhere beside the Blue Mountains, because things all around them were finally the right size.

And it was alive. So alive that Dwalin, big, mean, old, gruff, train-you-until-you-die-and-your-bruises-have-bruises-Dwalin was acting skittish as if he expected some sort of ghost to jump at him from the shadows.

It was surreal.

Then they met Bilbo Baggins.

Sitting at the table now and inhaling food like there was no tomorrow, Kili felt absolutely giddy. Giddy at the homey feel of the hobbit-hole, awed at the shocking amount of different, delicious dishes, happy with how upbeat everyone seemed to be, and how united they were in their opinion that Dwalin's skittishness was hilarious.

Amazed at the fact that they were currently inside a house that was apparently alive.

And absolutely relieved that they had living and breathing evidence that the trip all the way up here hadn't been a waste of time, because more than any of them, more than what even Gandalf had expected, they were going to get what they came for. None of them would be disappointed, none would have to worry taking the hobbit along would be a mistake, because Bilbo Baggins was totally, positively, absolutely, undeniably too awesome for words-

Something struck the front door three times, loud and hard.

The noise echoed loudly through the house. Ominously, some might say, and the twelve dwarves at the table (Bombur had finally joined them not long before) abruptly stilled, some with food half-way into their mouths.

But Bilbo Baggins, who was in the process of distributing trays loaded with fried chicken legs, didn't seem to care about the knock. He slipped the last tray suspiciously close to Ori, who was squashed between his brothers, then stepped back from the table. Kili noted that the Hobbit still looked completely spotless, despite not having taken the normal precautions while cooking.

"I was wondering when he'd finally knock," the hobbit said absently, stretching.

"He is here." Gandalf rumbled ominously from where he'd suddenly materialized right outside the dining room entrance.

"I know." Kili's eyebrows shot up when Bilbo reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a small, round, shiny silver object, tied by a chain. "He's been outside for…" A short squeeze made the top lid swing open with a soft click. "Huh. 20 minutes now."

"Indeed?" Gandalf murmured, seemingly just as interested in the object Bilbo was studying as Kili was.

Bilbo returned the item to his pocket and swept out of the room. "He's been sitting on the bench." The hobbit didn't seem to care about the company of dwarves skulking in his wake. "Heavens know why." From his tone, glib and self-assured, Kili rather suspected the Halfling had made his own opinion already.

Kili shared a somewhat concerned glance with his brother.

Bilbo Baggins reached the door and grabbed the brass knob located right at the middle of it.

The round, green door opened inward, and Bilbo Baggins leaned against the edge as his eyes finally landed on the black-haired, blue-eyed dwarf beyond the threshold. There he was, his uncle, in all his heavily armored, braided-haired, short-bearded glory. His dark blue fur coat only added to his great, majestic aura.

Kili held his breath.

And his uncle chose that, of all times, to put his foot in his mouth. "Gandalf." He'd barely even looked at Bilbo. He hadn't even acknowledged him, sweeping his gaze past him instead, to look at the wizard. "You said this place would be easy to find." Then he grandly strode into the house, not sparing Bilbo even a glance. "I got lost. Twice." And, obviously, it was not his fault at all, was what his tone implied. "I would not even have found it if not for that sign on the door."

Kili, to his surprise, found himself growing uncomfortable. He'd never had a problem with Thorn acting like he owned the place, because, technically, in the Blue Mountains he did own the place, sort of…

But by the gleam in Bilbo's eyes, the youngest prince was pretty sure his uncle had well and truly made a horrible first impression.

Gandalf cleared his throat. Was he uncomfortable? And was it just Kili's imagination, or did the light of the candlesticks get just a bit dimmer? "Bilbo Baggins, may I introduce you to the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

And, naturally, Thorin had to slap on that haughty smile and look down on their host from the get-go. "So. This is the hobbit." The word sounded like an insult.

Kili almost missed the way Bilbo's eyes flashed, but he didn't know what that emotion was. He just knew it wasn't anything good.

With an almost careless push, Bilbo closed the door.

And the King Under the Mountain (to be) began to circle him, slowly. And Kili wanted to palm his face. This wasn't supposed to become an interrogation! "Tell me mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?" As if he was stalking an enemy. Bemusedly, the black-haired, nearly beardless dwarf saw Dwalin making halting, almost frantic movements from the corner of his eye. Sadly, Thorin had his back to them.

Damn.

"Pardon me?" And Bilbo didn't even try to turn around, though he did tilt his head, and his eyes went distant for a moment, just as the candle light flickered again, though the flames did not waver in the least.

Not good.

"Axe or sword. What is your weapon of choice?" It was clear to them all that Thorin had already reached an opinion about their host, and it was not at all high.

Not good, not good at all.

Bilbo shook his head and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow when the dwarf finally ended up in front of him once more. "Well, I do happen to be fairly good at conkers, if you must know."

Kili couldn't see his uncle smirk, but he knew he'd done it anyway. It was clear in his voice. "Thought as much." Then he half-turned to share his grand joke with them. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

For that half a second while Thorin was looking at them, Bilbo's eyes narrowed.

Then his face smoothed into the perfect mask of placidity, not responding to the derisive amusement that Thorin Oakenshield aimed at him. The King Under the Mountain slowly turned away from him to head in the direction of the dining room, as if he owned the place-

Only to suddenly trip and fall on his face as soon as he made to go through the closest alcove.

Kli gaped, not so much at the fall but at the squawk that his uncle produced when he lost his balance and tripped on the edge of the carpet that had been perfectly smooth and stretched until that point. The prince heard more than saw Dwalin drop his head and rub his eyes. And Bifur's muttered Khuzdul left him torn between hysterics and mortification.

"Are you alright, master dwarf?" Kili's eyes snapped around, shocked to see that Bilbo had disappeared from the hallway. He'd somehow snuck around them all and ended up on the inside of the room during the short commotion. "That was quite the fall." His words of concern rung with a genuineness that everyone somehow knew was totally fake. He was standing over the fallen form the dwarf. "I won't pry into your business, since we Hobbits are very clear on privacy and manners, you see." Kili winced at the direct jab. "But you have been sitting on my bench for near half an hour now, for whatever reason. Have the rain and night chill gotten to you? I can brew an excellent tea for the cold if you have one."

Thorin, who had climbed to his feet with as much composure as he could scrounge together after that embarrassing display, seemed to be doing his best not to glare too obviously. "That won't be necessary." Kili was amazed his teeth didn't shoot sparks, with how tightly they were grinding together.

"Oh." Was all Bilbo said. "Okay then." After which the hobbit promptly turned on his heel (thus totally dismissing the presence of the newest arrival) and marched through the sitting room and another hallway until he reached the dining room and casually sat himself at the head of the table, putting together a plate worthy of royalty without paying mind to anyone else.

Kili wondered when Bilbo had had the time to drag his armchair there.

Not much later, Thorin pointedly took the seat at the other end of the table, the one that put the round window and the merrily blazing hearth at his back. Bag End seemed to have lots of those.

With a cringe, Kili, son of Dis, shared a worried look with his more fair-haired brother, who looked no less pained than himself.

Both of them had been sure that things would go oh so well between their uncle and their burglar.

Fat chance.

"-. .-"

Nori wondered what in Mahal's beard he had been thinking. He may like to act all smug and self-assured, as if he was the most upbeat person on Middle Earth, but that was just a performance he put on for the benefit of everyone else. He was one who had grown from petty thief to petty crime ring leader, then all the way to (oft-downtrodden like all his kin) spy master after Smaug totally shattered their livelihood, blurring the lines between the good dwarves and bad. After spending decades keeping up his legally ambiguous ways and preempting assassination attempts against Thorin and his family (thankfully few and without them knowing, for the most part, but even those were more than there should have been), his hope for a better future had been well and truly shot.

And with it, so had his hope for pretty much any sort of good turn. It was great being a doomsayer. It meant that if you were ever surprised, it could only be in a good way.

So what in The Halls of the Ancestors was he thinking, indulging in optimism?! It's not like he'd been given enough cause to think Thorin and Bilbo Baggins would hit it off! Sure, the hobbit was lean and elegant, cultured and quick-witted, a master of knives no matter how unbalanced, the best cook ever and charming as sin, but that wasn't enough cause to…

Oh, who was he kidding? There had been plenty of reasons to be optimistic!

And yet they hated each other on sight.

Which meant that the fact Nori ended up unpleasantly surprised was all Thorin's fault. He was going to strangle that troublesome dwarf someday. Thorin would deserve it and Nori would enjoy it.

Now if only he could rid himself of that little shred of morality he still possessed…

Drat. Loyalty was so troublesome.

At least the hobbit (and no, Nori didn't say or think the word as an insult) didn't seem to hold Thorin's "introduction" against the rest of them. After finally sitting down at the table to join the feast he'd cooked, Bilbo Baggins kept up a steady stream of conversation with whoever was willing to reciprocate, especially the princes (the two were surprisingly taken with him, though Nori suspected Bilbo had bought them off with pastries) and Ori.

He was chatting despite that Dori had sat himself between the hobbit and their younger brother, supposedly to act as a barrier.

From the conversation with his younger brother, Nori could see that Bilbo shared Ori's love of all things written and drawn. Bilbo even shared his passion for creating maps, which was a surprising skill really, although Nori would be the first to admit they didn't know much about hobbits so he wasn't the one to judge. Or shouldn't be anyway.

Which was pretty unacceptable for the one supposed to know things. Too bad they couldn't stay in the Shire for a while. He had a feeling it wouldn't actually be a waste of time to spend a day or two learning about the supposedly gentlest folk on Middle Earth.

Although he could admit he was learning enough from just this one hobbit. Their incredible capacity for putting away food being one of them. Stone, where was all that food going? And how in the world was the Hobbit devouring it so fast and without making a mess of himself? And he thought Bombur was an endless pit when it came to eating!

And as Nori had noticed before, Bilbo Baggins did it all while keeping up various conversations, and without speaking with his mouth full even once.

It was baffling.

But not as much as his ability to completely turn around everything Thorin said to him, and twist every comment about him into a compliment.

"Well, at least this feast means you lived up to my expectations of you, such as they were."

"Yes, I don't know about dwarves but we hobbits love food." Baggins would casually say, acting as if he was totally pleased with the remark. And also immersed in the act of cutting his steak. "Being complimented on our cooking is one of the greatest honors a guest can bestow upon us."

Nori wasn't sure if Thorin was seeing through the act. Probably, but the way he scowled meant he was pissed off anyway.

Tough break. If Bilbo Baggins was going to weaponize culture shock, Nori would damn well enjoy every single moment of it.

"I noticed there were a lot of flowers outside. Very… delicate. I assume you tend to them yourself? I imagine they take up most of your time." Which was to say, I suppose you're also a gardener in addition to a grocer.

"Oh, I'd love to, but I simply haven't the time for them all!" And bless the lad, he sounded honestly contrite. "I usually find I must rely on dear old Hobson Gamgee from down the street. Wonderful fellow. Has the best green thumb I've ever encountered."

"I am certain he does."

That was a lousy topic closer, Nori thought. Thorin could have easily bent that statement around and made a quip about Bilbo Baggins starting a project that was beyond him and having to rely on the pity of the neighbors.

Mahal, if you're going to get into double-speak, at least do it decently! This was cringe-worthy! Literally! Everyone at the table other than Gandalf and Thorin himself had cringed at least once. And Dwalin kept wincing every time those two spoke to each other, if it could even be called that. And had even whimpered that one time, though no one other than him seemed to take notice. Blast the guardsman for taking the seat right next to him. Bastard just wouldn't let go of the past and kept insisting he, Nori, should be kept an eye on.

Dwalin wasn't fit to keep an eye on himself with the state he was in.

And lo and behold, Fili and Kili seemed to find the sight of their uncle getting verbally trounced absolutely hilarious. Their attempt at hiding their amusement beyond pints of ale (Mahal, the ale) were half-arsed at best, but Thorin was too absorbed in his ongoing, self-engineered aggravation to notice anything.

Nori wondered when the world had gone wrong to the point where he, a crook, seemed to have more loyalty towards their would-be king than the man's own nephews.

And he wondered why Thorin was so easy to rile up, and why he came in looking to make himself feel better at another's expense in the first place. The only answer Nori could think of was that he was already burdened with a foul mood. A mood so foul that it could only mean the trips to the councll of lords in the North had resulted in failure. It would explain why he would linger on the doorway for so long. If Dain had refused to help them, Thorin probably wouldn't be eager to share that bit of news.

Nori really hoped he was wrong. But he was willing to bet his hair style he wasn't. And he was good at gambling, because he always cheated.

The feast continued on in that fashion for a while, until nearly every plate and tray was empty or filled with scraps. Bilbo was talking to Gandalf, the wizard having sat at his left the whole time, when Ori hesitantly cut in. "Excuse me."

Bilbo Baggins turned his entire attention towards the blond dwarf. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

Nori wanted to sigh. Good old Ori. Always had too many manners.

Before Bilbo could answer (probably with something along the lines that he'll take care of it because he's the host after all), Fili stood up from across the table. "Toss it here!"

Nori knew that eye gleam and that grin.

But surprise of all surprises, Ori looked at Bilbo for permission first. From the corner of his eye, Nori saw Thorin straighten at seeing the Hobbit's authority so blatantly recognized as superior to that of the Heir Under the Mountain.

Bilbo Baggins smiled indulgently and leaned back in his armchair, gesturing that he go ahead.

One plate toss led to another, then the other dwarves began to pound the ends of their forks and knives against the table, and despite all the strained quips during the feast, the overall experience had been good and merry, so it wasn't too long before plates were flying and dwarves were singing.

Blunt the knives bend the forks!
Smash the bottles and burn the corks!
Chip the glasses and crack the plates!
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates -

Only he didn't. The hobbit shook his head with the air of someone amused at a group of overexcited children and quaintly finished his ale.

Cut the cloth tread on the fat!
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!
Splash the wine on every door!

But of course they did none of those things, instead gathering up the tableware in tall piles, each with a bottle or ale mug on top. Nori was participating in the whole thing, but still had a free eye to glance at Bilbo from time to time.

What he saw almost made him stumble and cause a horrible disaster. There, right in front of Bilbo Baggins, were all the best plates neatly stacked on top of one another.

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;
Pound them up with a thumping pole;
And when you've finished, if they are whole,
Send them down the hall to roll!

Dori, totally caught up in the process that only Thorin and Gandalf had stayed out of (the hobbit notwithstanding) reached out to grab one of the plates that their host had surreptitiously snatched out of the air at whatever point.

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!

A hobbit's hand came down in a hammer fist upon the searching hand of the dwarf with surprising force. Dori's palm made a muffled splat against the wood, and the noise suddenly halted the antics of everyone. Utterly unperturbed by being the center of attention, Bilbo Baggins sent the strongest dwarf in the company a very sweet smile. "This is my late mother's china, and I am very fond of it, Master Dwarf." He uncoiled his fist and let his palm rest on the far end of the steak knife. The steak knife that had gone between Dori's fingers and into the tough wood below. "I may be convinced to let you include them in your merrymaking, but if you put even a scratch on them I will not be held responsible if any of you end up smothered in your sleep tonight."

Beside Nori, Dwalin made a noise resembling a wounded puppy.

Fili and Kili both gaped, piles of dishware still held aloft in both hands.

"Although I suppose that friendly warning could easily turn irrelevant if you decided it suited you better to seek lodgings at the inn instead." The hobbit heaved at the knife a few times to pull it out (mercy, had it gone so far in?) and stood smoothly. His armchair slid back to allow him easy movement. And it must have moved on its own, because the short creature couldn't have pushed it back, at least not that easily. "Not that I would suggest or desire it. After all, all of you whom I welcomed into my home tonight have been excellent company."

Nori blinked, eyes flicking from Dori's pale and stunned face to the serene visage of the curly-haired halfling. With that, he'd essentially excluded Thorin from his statement of goodwill because he hadn't welcomed the dwarf inside. The King had invited himself in.

Given Thorin's barely concealed anger, he had caught the jab as well.

"Besides!" The hobbit scooped up his prized plates in a single hand, smiling at them all (except Thorin). "I need these to bring in the desert!"

Oh, he was good.

"-. .-"

Desert (tarts, apple pies and pastries of at least five different kinds) came and went with surprisingly little fuss, as did the discussion that everyone had been waiting for, though it did kill whatever mood was left after the sweets. Thorin had gotten all the lords together, but none had answered his call, not even his cousin Dain Ironfoot, which meant that their company was all that they had to go reclaim the Lonely Mountain.

13 dwarves.

Well, 13 dwarves, a wizard and a Hobbit, assuming he was going to agree to come despite Thorin's, ahem, handling of him.

Right. Nori wasn't going to bet his starfish hair against those odds, no sir.

The mood was somewhat lifted when Gandalf produced the map of the lonely mountain and revealed the existence of the secret door, which the Durin Line knew of and could use to evacuate in case of emergency. After that the talk turned into multiple isolated conversations, with the occasional point that everyone paid attention to. Like the time frame they were willing to set for themselves (one or two years, but extendable) and whether or not Gandalf had any experience with dragons (he didn't).

Through it all, even when everyone crowded around the map as well as they could, with gandlaf ending up right next to Thorin, Bilbo Baggins sat in his armchair, sipping at a cup of tea and reading through the contract that Balin had finally handed over at Thorin's order. Just the usual: summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth.

Ha! Just the usual indeed.

Nori had been keeping one eye on Bilbo and didn't miss the rising eyebrows and bemused shakes of the head. The Hobbit seemed quite immersed in his reading, and Nori found himself truly curious to see how much he would find unacceptable in it. The thief himself had caught a couple of things in the fine print that didn't sit well with him, and had haggled with Balin until he got the terms he wanted.

The discussion on Thorin's end of the table died down eventually, and it was just in time to see Bilbo Baggins frown, though the half-smile never really left his face, even as his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Oh, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth total profit if any. Seems fair." Then he snickered. "Present company shall not be liable for injuries including but not limited to laceration, evisceration... incineration?"

"Yeah!" Bofur enthused. "Think furnace, with wings!" Bilbo only seemed to find it funny. "He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye! Flash of light, searing pain, then poof, you're nothing more than a pile of ash."

"Yes, thank you Bofur," Bilbo told him easily. "Very helpful. Your flippancy in the face of my potential death is endearing."

"I thought so too!" Gloin cut in. Nori had almost forgotten about him. He'd been among the most silent ones during the whole evening.

Bilbo hummed and lowered his eyes to the mile-long contract again. "You might as well have added immolation and combustion to the list. And why not, decapitation, impaling, death by orc ambush." Nori's eyes flickered over to Thorin whose expression began to close off even more than it already was. "That's what they are, aren't they? Throat cutters. There'd be dozens of them out there after all. The low lands are crawling with them. They strike, in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."

"You think that's funny?" Thorin cut in, and yes, he had raised his voice. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

Bilbo glanced up and Nori felt a shiver go down his spine even though those green irises weren't aimed at him. "I didn't say that."

"No you didn't," the dwarf king bit out, settling back into his chair as if it pained him to relax. "You know nothing of the world."

Gandalf sat up in his seat and all the dwarves standing or sitting close to that end of the table gasped or yelped and sprung away as if burned. Nori would have paid more attention to Thorin's reaction to that if his eyes weren't riveted on something else. The room to Thorin's back suddenly went dark, as if a cloud of ash had sprung from nowhere. Then it looked more like ink.

Even with the candles still burning, it was like a veil of darkness fell, leaving only the window, skewed and half-covered by the curtains. The moonlight was pale but the lantern outside made up for it. Half-covered as it was, it looked like the glaring eye of a giant resting its face on its side.

Shocked by the outburst of his dwarves, at the horrified looks they sent to the wall behind him, Thorin cautiously twisted as well as he could to look over his shoulder. It was just in time for the fire in the hearth to flare. The hearth looked like a mouth twisted into the most hideous rictus. One about to spit flame all over them.

Thorin cursed in Khuzdul and jumped at the sight of a monster leering and preparing to eat him, or would have if his chair could move, but it didn't. The dwarf king grunted in surprise, then tried to push himself away, but failed. One arm became two and he tried to heave himself, but when his efforts proved to be vain his chair suddenly moved further in, crushing his chest against the edge of the table.

On the other side, Bilbo Baggins moved to the next fold of the scroll, ignoring the alarmed and helplessly angry struggles of his unwelcome guest. "Burglar acknowledges and agrees that each item of the Company's valuables, goods, money or merchandise which he recovers from the Lonely Mountain during the term of his engagement with the Company, shall remain the Property of the Company at all times, and in all respects, without limitation."

His voice caused a hush to fall over the room, and the growing darkness seemed to strain against his every word.

"Furthermore, the company shall retain any and all Recovered Goods until such a time as a full and final reckoning can be made, from which the Total Profits can then be established. Then, and only then, will the Burglar's fourteenth share be calculated and decided." Bilbo tapped his fingers against the paper a couple of times. "So, I'm not actually entitled to any part of the treasure. Just whatever gold you lot think I'll be owed at the end of it."

Nori internally acknowledged the point as Balin quietly sighed.

"You know, this is actually a hilarious term, all told," Bilbo said randomly, cutting off whatever anyone was about to say. "It means I won't get to claim any actual item or gem from there. Did you even bother learning anything of us hobbits?" Bilbo asked Balin that, not Thorin. He seemed to enjoy ignoring the seething king, to whom the fiery maw seemed to be getting ever closer. "Even if we weren't simple folk that care not for gold or riches, I'm already the richest Hobbit there is you know."

That caused another round of gapes, and even Thorin paused in his ongoing attempts to push himself from the table.

Bilbo shared an amused look with a calmly smoking Gandalf and crossed his legs, then returned his attention to the contract. "Confidentiality is of utmost importance and must be strictly maintained at all times. During the course of his employment with the Company, Burglar will hear, see, learn, apprehend, comprehend, and, in short, gain knowledge of particular facts, ideas, plans, strategies, theories, geography, cartography, iconography, means, tactics and/or policies, whether actual, tangible, conceptual, historical or fanciful. Burglar undertakes and agrees to maintain this knowledge in utmost secrecy and confidentiality, and to neither divulge nor make known said knowledge by any means, including but not limited to speech, writing, demonstration, re-enactment, mime, or storage and retrieval within means or apparatus currently known or unknown or as yet unthought of."

Bilbo let that sink in.

"So, technically, I won't be allowed to speak or write about anything on the journey. Freedom of speech is not a right among dwarves?" Bilbo shook his head, though he didn't look at anyone. "Terrible society you people live in."

"Now, laddie, that's not-"

"Oh look!" Bilbo cut Balin off. "I love this one: Burglar acknowledges that monetary damages alone will be adequate compensation for a breach of this contract by the Company. So you can toss me to the wolves and it'll be fine as long as you dump some gold or silver coins in my lap. Wonderful insurance I must say."

Okay, the contract really did start to sound a bit odd if you take into account that the Burglar isn't a dwarf. And even then…

"And my, what a clever fine print we have." Bilbo shifted in his seat, took a sip from his tea and continued. "Disputes arising between the Contract Parties shall be heard and judged by an arbitrator of the Company's choosing – no mention of a neutral party. Fills me with utmost confidence."

The darkness behind Thorin, who was trembling with rage at being forced to stay immobile, began to creep further. It licked at his elbows and made the dwarf king freeze.

And then Bilbo dropped all pretense of being amused by anything. "… and all pleas shall be pleaded, shrewed, defended, answered, debated and judged in the Dwarvish Tongue." The fire in the hellmouth flared a second time and the light in the lantern outside the window went out for a moment, making it seem as if the monster had blinked at them.

Nori could feel the heat from the hearth all the way across the room. He could only wonder how it felt against Thorin. The king was fortunate that his chair had a backrest.

The Hobbit slowly held the contract away and dumped it on the floor beside him with undisguised contempt. The moment it hit the rug, the fire in the mouth of the monster surged and crackled like a whip. Sparks were kicked up, some landing on Thorin's sleeves and in his hair.

Normally, the dwarves would have charged the perceived threat to their king by now, at least the one they thought they could handle, namely the hobbit. But it was always Balin or Dwalin that called such a charge. And the former was a bit far away, and Dwalin had shrunk back and was looking wildly around, as if he thought the furniture would come alive and attack him.

"Umm… Mister Baggins?" Kili hedged plaintively, looking well and truly worried. "Please don't let the house eat our uncle."

"We still need him, you see." Fili was somewhat more composed. Somewhat.

"Hmmm…" Bilbo was glaring at the dwarf king now.

Then he suddenly pushed himself away and everyone started, thinking he would topple over and fall.

Two bare feet snagged on the underside of the table edge, leaving the armchair and hobbit teetering backwards but surprisingly steady on just two feet, despite the precarious position. Bilbo reached up, just in time to catch a jar of honey that had come flying all the way from the kitchen.

A slight tug made his large armchair crash back on all four feet. The hobbit proceeded to replenish his tea from the kettle and uncapped his honey jar. Then he gingerly added some to his tea and stirred, slowly, his glare never leaving Thorin, who was looking thunderous but no less helpless, stuck in place as he was.

After a few minutes, Bilbo brought the cup to his mouth.

A beat.

The darkness in Thorin's half of the room shuddered.

Bilbo took a deep breath, then released it and took another sip of his honey tea.

The darkness retreated nearly all the way to the wall, but the window still glared and the hell mouth still blazed.

The third sip finally, finally made the apparition disappear, slowly but surely, and Bilbo Baggins slumped in his chair with heavy, weary sigh.

The dwarves let out a collective breath. Both those who were standing and those that hadn't managed to leave their stools when Bag End got angry. Thorin visibly relaxed, though not all the way, and he was well past the point where he could pretend he'd been completely free of fear.

The King Under the Mountain tried to push away from the table, but he failed still.

"You know," Bilbo stared at his tea as he stirred it with his spoon. "You are dwarves and I'm a hobbit, so because of the entire culture shock thing some allowances could be made. So despite that there have been some things not altogether proper that I have had to cope with this night, I tried to keep an open mind when mud was dragged all across my home." The hobbit drunk all the tea, though he didn't rush. "When every new guest made enough noise to make my ears ring, I took heart in the fact that it meant they were in a good mood."

As he talked, the other dwarves returned to their chairs and kept their eyes down, not looking at either of the two opposing parties.

"But in the end I still ended up making one false assumption." Setting the empty cup and tray on the table, the Master of the House stood from his armchair, which obligingly scuttled back a couple of feet. "Pleasantly surprised as I was by the cheer of these 12 fellows around us, I mistakenly thought their merry and, in some cases, cultured and polite manner was a reflection of the one they had sworn to follow. The great leader they had joined on this grand quest to reclaim their homeland, and slay a dragon. I assumed," Bilbo propped both palms on the table, "That the positive impression they left on me was a reflection of you." The hobbit pushed himself away and gave Thorin a look of utmost contempt. "Clearly, I was mistaken."

Thorin looked thunderous, itching to stand up and do and say Mahal knew what, but Nori and everyone else never got to know what it would be.

The entire room went dark as if Gandalf had just gone into one of his famous fits.

And Bilbo Baggins was glaring at the dwarf sequestered to the chair across the table from him. "You have the gall to show yourself here and treat me with utter derision in my own house. You barely acknowledge me when I open the door and proceed to insult me at every turn without past grievances existing between us! You presume to think yourself my better even though your amazing ability to get lost twice on a 2-mile road is the absolute least of your issues!"

The fire in the hearth almost exploded and a wave of heat wafted over everyone gathered in the dining room. Dwalin made a strangled noise, barely drowned by the yelps of the princes and Bombur.

"I would have been willing to overlook it all," Bilbo said lowly. "After all, you came here burdened by the knowledge you would have to share the bad news with the rest of your fellows. That the rest of your kin had turned their backs on you. That is why you lingered outside for so long, despite having come through the rain, wasn't it? Because you didn't know how to break the bad news. I was ready to bear your attitude, even though it is the mark of a lesser man."

Nori was sure someone or Thorin himself would have snapped something back by now, but he doubted he was the only one who felt like too much air was pressing on his mouth and nose and throat.

"But this!" Bilbo waved at the discarded contract in disgust. "This so-called contract is nothing but a deliberate, premeditated insult to my intelligence. Because, clearly, insulting my appearance and my presumed occupation was not enough. And to think you seethe when Men sneer down their noses at you. I can't imagine why, since the moment you found someone smaller you proceeded to do the exact same thing."

Without any notice, the darkness lifted.

But Bilbo Baggins had one last thing to say. "Maybe you missed it in all the excitement, but I am not your subject, Thorin Oakenshield, and you are not my king."

Silence.

"And I will travel nowhere with hypocrites, no matter their station."

The air pressure choking them dispersed, making all but the now nearly blank-faced king buckle and sigh in relief.

"Now if you'll excuse me," Nori did a double take at how quickly the hobbit once again assumed his unbothered air. "I will turn in. I must usher in the dawn tomorrow. Gandalf, a word in private if you don't mind?"

Without further ado, Bilbo Baggins strode out of the room.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick-tock went the clock.

Gandalf heaved himself from his chair and smoothed out his robes. "Well," he said bemusedly, subjecting the company to a cursory gaze. "That could have gone better." And without another word, the wizard followed the landlord out.