Alright. This was it. This was his chance. He was of age now. He had the right to court whomever he wanted, right? Right… He had a business already! Sure it was just a little stall at the market, but it was his, his father let him run it all day long now, not just be a delivery boy anymore. He was a respectable owner! He could provide for his chosen one. Not that the he would need providing for, oh no. Not this one. He had a big homely hole under the biggest hill in Shire. He had storages full of gold and commodities, not like his own shammy rented hole. He had fine clothes and intricate leather belts and jewelry. If he courted him, there would be no more thread bare coats and hole-patched pants. No more saving for months to have enough for a good belt. No more cringing at his last name that no one had heard of before. Nope. If all went well he'd be a Baggins, and living the good life. An easy living of leisure and comfort. All he had to do was make sure that no one else got the same idea.

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Shire was buzzing with excitement for the rest of the week as young hobbit lads and lasses went about their friend's houses talking about the upcoming Winter Gathering at the Took Hill Burrow. Lasses were running to the old matron's who had greenhouses and were already growing flowers. Snowdrops and lilies of the valley along with dandelions and tulips were making their way into vases and glasses all over the little ladies rooms.

Lads were more adamant about making sure their buttons were as shiny as their handkerchiefs were starched; trying to walk around with as much dignity as one who barely got off their father's knee could. Which is to say not a lot.

Bilbo Baggins was as nervous as other hobbit, only his reasons were different. He wasn't much concerned with showing himself off as a responsible adult; he'd been doing that for years now, so that wasn't a problem. Oh no. IT was hammering an emergency course on hobbit formal gathering into two stubborn dwarves who did not want to listen or comprehend, or even try to apply the shakily gained knowledge.

To the hobbit's surprise Kili was the one who took to the manners, or at least the pretense of them, with at least a bit of acceptance, while Fili refused to agree to the notion. Oh he was perfectly fine with the idea of being a chaperone for Bilbo, but the fact that he still had to let him communicate with a'courtin' lads and lasses made him uncomfortable. Kili just secretly wanted to mess with everyone's mind and lure them into a false sense of security with his upturned pinkies, and wiped feet, and a hanky in his pocket before he unleashed the full dwarven possession on them. So far he was succeeding.

Already the younger dwarf had received a few propositions for a dance at the Gathering, more then his fair share of pastries and baked goods brought to the door by flustered hobbits, and was not strutting around with his nose in the air.

Bilbo and Fili just shook their heads as they quietly went over the list of those Bilbo knew was going to be at the party, so as to be at least a bit familiar with the innumerable familial relations. There were the Tooks, the Brandybucks, Proudfoots, Sackvilles, Gamgees, Bracegirdles, and many more. And those were just the cousins!

Bilbo didn't even know for sure who would be showing up at the Took Hill come weekend, and was seriously dreading the occasion. Never the less, he took a deep breath, straightened his jacket, and went about his day as usual, being possibly just a bit more taunt with the neighbors and the constant stream of "visiting" hobbits, who just so happened to ask if Masters Kili and Fili were attending as well. In the end the Master of Bag End grew annoyed enough with the repeated question that he hanged a sign on the front gate stating "The dwarves are coming to the party. Don't bother knocking; we're not in." and went blissfully undisturbed for the rest of the evening.

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Bofur's pretty tired by now. He'd walked a long time and crossed many a miles before coming to the borders of Shire. He heard that they have an abundance of children, and truly, what is a better place for a toymaker then that filled with customers.

So the cheery dwarf packs his meager belongings, wishes hic cousins well, and sets off in search of a better place to set his shop then the childless dwellings of dwarves. Not that there aren't any children there, no. But they are so few and far in between, that he is simply unable to sustain a decent living. So to Shire he goes.

Bofur heard from the grapevine that the hobbit's dwelling was a good place to be. He heard they're friendly, have a very mild climate in the area, no orcs, and plenty of food. Add to the fact the large number of children, and the absence of men to look down upon him, and it sounds pretty perfect.

And when his warm brown eyes fall on the rolling hills of the hobbit country, Bofur can't help but think that this would actually be nice.

He sets his little stall in the market of Hobbiton, as central settlement of the Shire, and one of the most populated ones. Nearby he builds a tiny shack of a place, made over a week of hard work with his hard saved wages, and reinforced against the cold with thick bushels of straw and hay. It's no hobbit hole, but it is close to the market , and no one bothers him in it too much. There's one room, no kitchen, the amenities are outside, but it is his, and he's content for now. A merry fire in the small tingle he bought keeps the place warm at night when he's covered with a thin blanket and resting near the warmth.

The stall is full of toys the very next week, and he is informed that his timing is great. A big celebration is coming, and all the hobbits want something or other to give to each other as gifts and trinkets. The dwarf is surprised to see his toys go not only to the children but bought happily by adults for adults as well. He even takes a few commissions for more complicated things, and now his evening are spent busy whittling wood in this shape or that, scales, gears, curls and lace coming from his skilled fingers in matter of hours and sometimes even minutes. The children are happily squealing outside the stall every morning as he brings out a fresh batch of goods, all clamoring around the table in order to be the first to see the newest wonders that the strange fella brought.

And so one morning he is not at all surprised to see a group of children crowing his yet closed stall as he strolls out of his little hut with a box filled with goodies. Bofur smiles at them cheerfully and shakes his head a bit, making his twin braids flap a little at the motion, sending the children into a fit of giggles. That never fails to make them laugh and brings a smile to Bofur's face early in the morning. He likes the kids, and they like him. If all he has to do is flap his braids a bit, well there's nothing wrong that he sees in it.

What does come as a surprise is an adult, if young looking hobbit, standing a tad away from the still giggling group of fuzz balls swaddled in shawls and scarves, also looking at the dwarf, smiling with a big grin. Bofur lets his eyes sweep over the newcomer. He's never seen him at the market before even though he'd been there for a week, and he'd come to know pretty much every patron by now.

This hobbit is, like he noticed earlier, young, has a typically hobbit head full of curls, although they are a warm honey color, and laughing brown eyes. He stands with his hands in the pockets of his sturdy red jacket, tops of mittens poking through; brown trousers that end lust below the knee and bare feet, just like all the hobbits. There's a lovely scarf around his neck, very bright yellow, and looking as like the fuzziest scarf that the dwarf ever saw in his life. He is half-expecting it to start chirping.

Customers are waiting though, and so Bofur comes over to the side of the stall fishing a key out of his coat pocket, and going in. Moments later the wooden boards open up, letting the winter sun shine upon the assortment of wooden delights lining the table of the dwarf's little business venture, and drawing another wad of laughter and giggles out o the children as they push and shove to get closer.

The hobbit in the fuzzy scarf stays behind them, taking advantage of his height, for once taller than someone, thinks Bofur. He observes the hobbitlings squeal and talk to each other as small hands reach towards the toys, exchanging some coin with the dwarf as he quickly and skillfully wraps their purchases and keeps a sharp eyes on the few extra adventurous shirelings that try to make off without paying. A sharp rap on the fingers gets those ideas out of their heads for another day, and Bofur carries on with his easy chatter and wrapping.

Soon enough the group dispenses and the two adults are left pretty much alone, allowing Bofur a moment to finally properly look over his observer. The other comes closer and leans against the stall. Smiling slightly at him their first words are exchanged.

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Bilbo heard quite by chance from the Gamgees, that there was a toymaker in the market. Now usually hobbits made the toys for their children themselves, and they were nice, sure. Dollies and clay tea sets for the girls; little wagons and balls for the boys; slingshots, throwing belts, and belt flags for all of them. But this was someone who specialized in making little ones happy, and Bilbo wanted to see what that man's things looked like. So he followed through with his idea one less chillier then usual morning, a day before the Winter Gathering.

He comes to the market and sees a small hoard of kids gathered in front of a closed stall. Taking a guess at their excitement Bilbo decides to wait and see what happens, thinking that children would not be standing at the same place for too long if there was no reward. His guess is confirmed as a few minutes later a person shows up from behind a corner with a box in his hands. To Bilbo's astonishment he is a dwarf.

The other has a nice open face, twin braids that merrily stick up from his sides, a hat with upturned furry flaps, and a goatee. He's dressed rather plainly in a leather long coat, dark breeches and extremely furry boots. He's also got knitted gloves on, and a tri-colored long scarf winding about his neck. As soon as his eyes land in the kids laughter shines through and he does a strange quick shake with his head, making the braids dance and bounce, sending the little ones a'gigglin. That brings another smile to the dwarf's already happy face, and Bilbo can't stop himself from laughing with them.

Soon the toymaker disappears in the stall and moments later opens it up sending kids tumbling closer. Bilbo sets his gaze on the displayed wares and becomes amazed. He'd never seen such detailed work in toys before. The other truly is a dwarf for his hands are blessed by Aule with the same creativity and artistic sense that the others of his race Bilbo had the pleasure of meeting. Attentiveness to detail, meticulous execution, miniscule parts that turn and shift with presses of a button, or a turn of a hidden leaver: all of these things are something that the hobbit observes in the toymaker's creations.

When all the kids leave he comes closer, leans against the stand and introduces himself. The dwarf's name is Bofur and he is from the northern mountains, here to look for some more prospective work. Bilbo finds out that the other has a brother and a cousin but no children of his own, and that he is somewhat young by dwarf standards.

Bilbo remembers what Thorin said to him when they first met and volunteers his age first, not noticing a surprised look in his companion's eyes, and is reciprocated with a grin and a mutter of 120. He smiles in return and the conversation flows on uninterrupted. They are stopped occasionally by a hobbit lad or lass coming in to ask for a trinket or a toy for a child, but ultimately they spend at least an hour just talking. Its been quite some time since Bilbo had an opportunity to have a chat like this with someone new and interesting and he intends to take full advantage of it.

Somehow the idea to invite his new friend comes in spontaneously and takes root in the hobbit's head. So he follows his instinct and extends the hand of tea and cakes to the delighted dwarf. Bofur agrees immediately, for he too had enjoyed their talk, and wants to know more about the Shire, Hobbiton, Bilbo and hobbits in general. The Halfling is interesting to talk to, he's funny and they seem to have a lot of things in common. Not life adventures for Bilbo didn't seem to have left Shire too much, but the general cheery outlook on life is definitely something they both have.

So it is with an easy heart that Bilbo waits for Bofur to close the stall, and walks them both back to Bag End, telling Bofur all about the sights and people who lie on their way. Its quite an engaging conversation with the hobbit remembering a few anecdotes about the neighbors and their quirks, Bofur throwing in his opinion or a story every turn or so. Very soon they are climbing the uphill leading to Bilbo's hole and Bofur begins to see unmistakably dwarven influence in front of him. The iron wrought shapes around the gate, locks of unhobbit make, a bench in front of the door, made with definitely dwarf hands, for it is covered in sharp lines of khazad carvings.

Turning a questioning look towards Bilbo, Bofur only gets a mischievous grin in return and an open door. Bilbo steps in first, motioning for him to follow and the dwarf obeys coming to a stop at the sight of a young tangar sitting on a chair in the living room, another by the hearth with a spool of copper wire and some bone fragments on his lap. All three stare at each other for a bit before the blond one grins and stands up.

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The brothers did not anticipate the company of another dwarf so soon after leaving the mountains. And yet when Bilbo comes in and motions to person behind him to come in as well they are at a moment of complicated feelings.

Fili is glad for the presence of his kind. Being the only dwarf besides Kili in the whole Hobbiton is tiring, and even though Bilbo is amazing and they love him to bits, he's not a dwarf, and doesn't know all their customs yet, not that he isn't slowly learning. So he smiles at Bofur as he is introduced, exchanges a few greetings in Khuzdul with him, and slams his hand on his shoulder in welcome.

Kili is suspicious. He thinks that this newcomer stands a bit too close to their Auntie, and smiles a bit too widely at him. He does keep his hands to himself though, so that saves him a few broken fingers.

Bofus just smiles, happy to be at a friendly person's presence.