"Dwalin… why do you seem to have acquired a baby hobbit?" Balin asked slowly, as the small being made what to Balin looked to be a valiant attempt at eating his own bodyweight in seedcake.
Dwalin seemed unbothered by the spray of crumbs. Dwalin, Balin reflected, had always had a soft spot for the younglings. Especially younglings who weren't intimidated by his gruff exterior (which really, was most of them, Balin thought, since younglings seemed to have an innate tendency to be able to tell when someone liked them).
"Balin, this is Frodo. Frodo, would you like to introduce yourself to my brother?"
Frodo looked up, considered Balin gravely, and then said something that sounded to Balin like, "Fwodo Baggin at your serfice!" complete with a little bow.
Balin bowed back somewhat absently. He could see why Dwalin was so taken with the little thing. The baby hobbit was more adorable than a basket of puppies.
"The Burglar's child?" he asked Dwalin.
Dwalin nodded. "His ward. Balin," he said more quietly. "The wizard has not been entirely honest."
Balin frowned.
"How so?"
"Well for a start," Dwalin said, "the hobbit had no warning that we were coming, other than a brief meeting with the wizard yesterday that ended in an invitation for tea for the wizard only. He had no idea that we were coming, and it was only because he realised that he had upset the wizard that he assumed that there would be others."
Balin blinked.
"Gandalf was saying that the Burglar would be more than happy to provide hot meals and beds for all!" he exclaimed.
"Well it's not that I'm not happy or able to do so," Bilbo interjected dryly as he re-entered the room with a large tea-pot, "it's just that it's generally considered polite to tell someone when you're inviting plus ones, or for that matter plus thirteens, over to their house for tea." He sat down, and poured himself and Balin a cup. "Us hobbits take hospitality seriously, but it's not like I'm running an inn here, so that I can whip up a feast with no warning whatsoever. You both are just lucky that I decided to prepare for the worst, because irritated wizards tend to have little sense of proportion when it comes to trying to throw one off balance." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "And what do you mean, 'Burglar'?"
Balin started to feel a distinct sinking sensation.
"Let me guess. You've never stolen a thing in your life," he stated.
Bilbo snorted.
"I wouldn't go so far as to say that, we were all fauntlings once, but somehow I doubt that pies from windowsills or vegetables from Farmer Maggot's field are generally seen as something approaching professional burglary. There was that one time in more recent memory that I stole my mother's silver spoons back from Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, but honestly." He shook his head. "And frankly, even if I was a burglar, I have Frodo to look after, so I can't just go traipsing off into the Blue," he scowled. "Especially not without making arrangements to take care of my business. I'm a landlord and an employer. It would be beyond irresponsible to just rush off without telling anyone."
"Does Gandalf know?" Balin asked, noting how 'the Fauntling' was listening to every word they were saying with eyes that clearly comprehended their conversation. Bright little thing.
"About Frodo?" Bilbo shrugged. "I didn't tell him, because he wasn't listening to me. It's hardly a secret though. I daresay if he bothered to talk to any hobbit in the last three years who knew me, then they would have told him unprompted. I have a suspicion than he made a number of assumptions about me based on what he knew about me as a child, and what he knew about my mother, and then decided that a Tookish Baggins would be just the ticket for a spot of adventure. If I didn't have responsibilities, then perhaps I even would have considered it, but…" his eyes darkened. "It's not that no other hobbits would take care of him if I asked, but he already lost one set of parents. I couldn't… I just, I can't…" Bilbo trailed off as Frodo left Dwalin's lap to slip under the table and make a beeline for his uncle's. Bilbo carefully set his tea aside, and hugged his nephew as he scrambled up his legs. He held him, almost too tightly, momentarily burying his face in Frodo's curls.
Balin just nodded, politely ignoring the hobbit's distress.
"Understandable," he murmured.
In regards to what this meant for the quest, Balin was not exactly ecstatic. On the one hand, it sounded like Gandalf was playing games, which Balin did not appreciate. Specifically since it indicated to him that Gandalf was not taking this all seriously.
On the other hand, if Gandalf was being serious about the hobbit being the best candidate, then the fact that he was flatly refusing to even contemplate coming was not exactly ideal for their goals.
Why was Gandalf so sure that they needed this hobbit anyway? Balin was mostly receptive towards the logic of the argument Gandalf had for recruiting a hobbit- quiet, sneaky, not familiar in scent to Smaug- but having actually met this hobbit, he had little idea as to why this was supposedly the best candidate for the job. Was it honestly just because Gandalf had apparently had successful dealings with the hobbit's mother? That seemed a little irresponsible. (Balin was almost certain Gandalf's lassez-faire persona was mostly smoke and mirrors, but at times like this, he wondered.)
Could it really be true that the good of the quest could hinge entirely on this hobbit joining them?
No. Balin refused to believe that. If Bilbo Baggins refused to sign the contract, then they simply would have to find someone else. Balin sincerely doubted that of all the hobbits in the Shire, only one could possibly help them.
"So just to clarify," he said, suspecting he already knew the answer, "if I were to offer you a 14th share in a dragon's hoard of treasure in potential reward for coming on an adventure, then you would…?"
"Laugh in your face," responded Bilbo promptly, still holding Frodo close. "Possibly hysterically. Ignoring the part where, correct me if I'm wrong, you would be somehow expecting me to get past the dragon to get to said treasure, there's the part where I have little interest in treasure for treasures' sake, I'm quite well-off for a hobbit, and I'm not leaving Frodo."
Balin sighed. Well at least that much had been cleared up.
It was at this point there was a knock on the door.
Bilbo moved to rise, but Dwalin waved him down.
"No, you sit, you don't want to dislodge the little one," he said. "I'll make sure whoever it is knows where to put their things."
Bilbo nodded, pressing his face close to Frodo's curls as he breathed slowly and worked to compose himself. It was bad enough that he wasn't doing his guests the courtesy of meeting them at the door, but he would be mortified if they actually saw him so discomposed as his first impression.
Two voices carolled, "Fili and Kili at your- what, Dwalin?!"
Dwalin's voice rumbled something that was too low for Bilbo to make out, but then a few moments later, two young dwarves who looked to be a little younger than he was (though in actual fact they were no doubt quite a bit older, knowing how dwarves were rather longer-lived than hobbits) came tripping through the door.
Bilbo hitched Frodo up onto one hip, and stood up to greet them. "I am Bilbo Baggins, and this is Frodo. At your service," he introduced himself.
Both boys rushed to introduce themselves, and ended up talking over the top of each other. Bilbo managed to not laugh, but it was a near thing. He ascertained after a bit that the blonde dwarf with the braids in his moustache was Fili, and the dark-haired one with only barely a beard was Kili.
Bilbo directed them towards food, and was pleased to see how much they enjoyed his cooking, albeit a little perturbed to see what they considered to be appropriate table manners. Frodo watched them with wide and fascinated eyes, and they both watched him right back. (Bilbo just hoped that he wouldn't start emulating the food throwing anywhere his great-aunts could see… well, perhaps apart from Auntie Donnamira. She would probably find it hilarious.)
To Bilbo's mild amusement, he heard Kili making what he no doubt thought was a quiet observation about how adorable Frodo was to Fili ("Look at those eyes! And those feet! He's just, awwww Fili…") with Fili nodding in agreement.
Bilbo was starting to notice a bit of a pattern here. Apparently dwarves were suckers for tiny fauntlings.
Sooner than he could blink, it seemed, more knocks were occurring at the door.
This time, Bilbo went to open it, still balancing Frodo his hip, and found a further five dwarves at his door.
"Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, at your service," he said with a bow, swinging Frodo down and up with him to make him giggle.
"Well that's a strapping young lad!" exclaimed one whose hair and beard were bright red. "Gloin, son of Groin, and this is my brother Oin. At your service, and your family's. Is that your son?"
Bilbo explained once more that Frodo was his nephew, whom he was the caretaker of, and then was introduced to the other three, Dori, Nori and Ori. Bilbo quickly directed them all towards where the food was, and Dori fairly cooed over Frodo, especially when he hid his face a little shyly against Bilbo's shoulder. Gloin on the other hand started sharing anecdotes about his own son, Gimli, with occasional loud interjections from Oin whenever he thought the embellishing was getting too exaggerated ("My nephew is a good stout lad, but he never could lift that axe when he was only 10. More like 20!") Most of them were pretty funny, and Bilbo shared a few of his own experiences he had had in raising Frodo.
After a while, Frodo became tired of being cooed over, and climbed down to sit under the table, where Bilbo was amused to note multiple dwarves were slipping him bits of cake and other tasty tidbits.
Dori looked somewhere between disappointed and resigned, and his brothers were both snickering at him whilst they "snuck" bits off their plates and under the table. (If they thought they were being subtle, Bilbo thought privately, he might understand why they needed a member of another race to do their burgling for them.)
A short while after that, and there were more people at the door. Frodo seemed happy enough under the table, so Bilbo left him there for the moment. He was glad he had when he pulled the door open only to have three dwarves fall flat on top of him, whilst Gandalf, the menace, stood back and chuckled, saying, "Carefully! Carefully! It is not like you, Bilbo, to keep friends waiting on the mat, and then open the door like a pop-gun! Let me introduce Bifur, Bofur and Bombur!"
Bilbo was distinctly unimpressed.
"Oh, and I suppose it's completely normal to be ambushed and squashed upon opening one's front door, is it?" he snarked. Seeing that the dwarves appeared to be rather embarrassed, especially Bombur, he relented and accepted their apologies, ushering them inside.
Gandalf set himself quite smugly in the corner, and called for a glass of wine, as the dwarves fell on the food Bilbo had provided in no little delight.
"It's a very good spread you've provided here," said the largest one, who Bilbo remembered was named Bombur.
Bifur, who had salt and pepper hair and the somewhat alarming feature of an axehead embedded in his skull, made a few gestures in sign language, which his cousin Bofur cheerfully translated as meaning that he agreed with Bombur.
"Why thank you," Bilbo responded. "You're very welcome. I was worried that it wouldn't be adequate, you see, someone neglected to tell me that I was going to have thirteen dwarves at my table. I only found out the numbers for sure when Dwalin came, and I asked him."
The table, which only moments before had been a little raucous, quietened down significantly.
"Is that true, Gandalf?" Bombur asked him, sounding more than a little perturbed.
Gandalf looked distinctively shifty.
"Well, I just thought if I… eased him into it, he would be more amenable when it came to hosting all of you."
Bilbo was interested to note that most of the dwarves seemed to be somewhat uneasy with this explanation. Balin however seemed to have been expecting to hear something like this, and the dwarf with his hair arranged up in three points (Nori, Bilbo remembered his name was,) had a gleam of understanding.
Bilbo was however wholly unimpressed with Gandalf's reasoning.
"Gandalf, I'm a hobbit. More than that, I'm related to the Tooks. You really think I'm not used to hosting large parties? If you had asked it as a favour in my mother's name, then I would have been mostly annoyed at the fact that you gave me so little notice. I've seen how all these dwarves have been eating. This is the first decent meal most of you have had in a while, yes?"
General noises of assent and nodding heads.
"Then I'm more than happy to have been the one to provide it. But really Gandalf, you can't have it both ways. If I wasn't used to hosting large parties, then my pantries would have been significantly emptier. As it was, I barely could have provided food for all of these people, if I hadn't figured out the fact that you were trying to put me off balance enough to do something ridiculous and spontaneous like, oh, 'go on an adventure.'"
Balin and Dwalin exchanged dark looks with Oin and Gloin, whom they had quietly got up to speed in between enjoying their feast. Regaining Erebor had been reduced to 'going on an adventure'? What kind of romanticized twaddle was that? And it was pretty plain that the sign on the door 'Burglar wants a good job, plenty of Excitement and reasonable Reward' couldn't be further from the truth.
Gloin decided now would be a good time to ask. "So, it wasn't you who put that sign on the door?"
The hobbit looked blank. "What sign?" Then he spotted Gandalf looking shifty.
"Bloody hills Gandalf!" Bilbo swore in exasperation. "I just painted that door not a week ago! What on Yavanna's green earth possessed you?!" Bilbo took a deep, calming breath. The dwarves had fallen silent, watching as though this was a stage show, and whilst he had their attention, he decided to make his position as clear as possible, before Gandalf could start doing whatever it was the wizard did to get his own way.
"Gandalf, I'm not sure who you expected me to be, but I'm telling you now, I'm not the hobbit for this adventure. I don't know what it is all about, but that's irrelevant. The details are not going to convince me. I'm no burglar, and even if I was, I can't leave the Shire."
Gandalf was starting to look significantly put out.
"If I say you are a Burglar, then a Burglar you are!" he started to thunder, causing all in the room to cringe.
Almost all.
"Nuncle Bilbo isn't going on your adventure," piped up a tiny voice from the entranceway.
Heads swiftly turned to see who had spoken, the dwarves who had not been introduced to Frodo yet looking shocked.
Bilbo knew that it was Frodo who had spoken up, (he must have crawled out from under the table and wandered off, Bilbo realised) but did a double-take when he saw the rather distinguished-looking dwarf carrying him.
Bilbo resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. He could only assume that once again Frodo had opened the front door to a stranger. Ah well. Something to work on later.
"Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf greeted. "And who… is this?"
Bilbo quickly stepped forward and collected his nephew from the arms of the dwarf. He was gratified to note that even though this Thorin character was wearing chainmail and looking almost as warlike as Dwalin, like Dwalin, he had clearly been taking care to be gentle with the little hobbit.
"Gandalf, this is my nephew and ward, Frodo. I'm his sole guardian since his parents died a few years ago."
"Nuncle Bilbo can't go on an adventure. He's gots to stay and look after me," Frodo said bluntly, bottom lip sticking out and arms folded.
Bilbo tried not to smirk, as Gandalf rather looked as though the wind had been taken out of his sails.
"So this is the hobbit," Thorin said in a deceptively mild tone.
Bilbo wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he nodded slightly in acknowledgement, then turned back to the wizard.
"Oh," said Gandalf, finally, in a much softer voice than before. "Well this was unexpected."
...
A/N: Heheheh whoops :P