Chapter 4 - Bofur
Chapter summary: Beorn's house was a welcome reprieve after all the excitement with the goblins and the wargs.
Beorn's house was a welcome reprieve after all the excitement with the goblins and the wargs. The journey from Carrock had been slow, the company weighted down by their tiredness and various injuries. Though Thorin had tried to hide it, the wounds from the white warg must have hurt a lot and even after Óin had cleaned and dressed them, Thorin still moved stiffly, his face tightened in a pained frown.
Everyone had been overjoyed by the prospect of being able to sleep in safety, with a roof over their heads, so they all went willingly with Gandalf's ridiculous scheme to invade Beorn's house in pairs. Bofur saw a raised eyebrow or two and Balin looked rather amused when Gandalf proposed his strategy, but nobody cared to point out that it was the exact same plan Gandalf had used that evening in Shire when they had visited Bilbo. The hobbit himself remained completely oblivious to the smirks around him, his head probably full of thoughts of food and warm beds.
After the initial mistrust Beorn proved himself to be a generous host and soon they were fed and comfortable, reclining by the fire. Óin busied himself by tending to their various scrapes and injuries that he hadn't had the time to address earlier and the rest of them just sat around, enjoying the moment of peace and quiet.
Bilbo had remained seated at the table, polishing off all the honeycakes he could reach before he sat back with a satisfied sigh, patting his belly. The gesture made him wince a little and he shuffled a little closer to the fire, raising his hands up to examine them in the firelight. Frowning at his discovery, the hobbit stood up from his seat and padded over to where their host was sitting.
"Master Beorn?" he addressed the huge man timidly. "Could I borrow a small pot of honey, please?"
Beorn bent down to look at him.
"And what do you need honey for, little bunny?"
Bilbo looked a little affronted at the address, but kept silent, probably aware that arguing wouldn't help him get the favour he wanted.
"Back home we use honey to treat scrapes and injuries," Bilbo answered. "I just thought that I may use it for my hands, instead of whatever ointment Óin is using." He shot a look at the elderly dwarf, who was tending to Dwalin's cuts in the corner. Judging by the burly dwarf's grimace, the treatment wasn't very pleasant.
"Honey, you say?" Beorn cocked his head. "Very well, I'll give you some honey. Do you need anything else?"
"Well," Bilbo said, "you wouldn't happen to have a potato, would you?"
That made Beorn guffaw and he threw his head back, slapping his thigh several times.
"A travelling circus indeed. You're a strange creature, little bunny, but since you ask so nicely, I will get you both the honey and the potato. Come with me."
They disappeared through one of the side doors of the hall, Bilbo's short legs doing their best to keep up with Beorn's long strides. Not five minutes later the hobbit came back, looking pleased with his loot. He carried both things over to the table and sat down with a look of concentration. It didn't take long for Ori to wander over and sit down next to him, his eyes full of curiosity.
"What are you doing, Bilbo?"
Bilbo tipped his fingers in the jar of honey and carefully smeared the stuff over the scrapes on the backs of his hands.
"I got a bit scraped in the goblin caves. Honey is good for treating wounds and cuts like this."
"Is it?" Ori asked with interest. "I never heard of this."
Bilbo gave him a look.
"I don't know what sort of stuff you dwarves use, but honey works perfectly fine for smaller injuries. It seals the wounds and prevents infections." His gaze slid down to Ori's hands. "You haven't stopped by Óin yet, have you? Take off those gloves, I'll have a look at your hands."
Ori didn't even hesitate before he stripped off his knitted mittens, offering his hands for inspection.
"You got scraped in the trees, didn't you?" Bilbo asked as he washed and cleaned the cuts before he smeared honey on them. "Try not to touch anything for a while, unless you want all your things to be sticky," he warned the shy dwarf. Ori nodded his head obediently, keeping his hands above the table.
"Why do you have the potato?" Bofur finally asked. His seat wasn't far from the table, so he had good view of the hobbit. Bilbo looked up with a smile.
"That one is for burns."
"I have a few burns," Fíli spoke up, walking over to the table. "I haven't been to see Óin yet, either."
"Did you get burnt by the pine cones?" Bilbo asked, gesturing the blond dwarf to sit down. Fíli nodded. "Show me."
Fíli took off his gloves and pushed back his sleeves, holding his hands toward Bilbo.
"That's not so bad," Bilbo said, reaching for a knife. "Still, it can't be pleasant. Let me just slice this potato and you can put it on the burns."
With some help from Ori he managed to bandage Fíli's hands to the satisfaction of them both.
"Thank you," Fíli smiled. "It feels better already."
"Can I get some honey, too?" Kíli popped up behind Bilbo's back.
"Of course," the hobbit replied, shifting to make room for him on the bench. The young dwarf plopped down next to him, looking at Bilbo expectantly.
"I have a few cuts on my face, from where I got slapped by the branches."
"Hold your hair out of your face," Bilbo told Kíli, who obeyed at once, pulling his hair back with both hands.
As Bilbo reached for the honeypot and started smearing the honey over the cuts on Kíli's face, Bofur took a moment to look around. Most of the Companions were watching the scene with amusement, but Thorin sat in the corner, observing the exchange with narrowed eyes. Well, thought Bofur, that's an interesting development. Nobody else seemed to notice Thorin's reaction so Bofur turned his face away as well, pretending that he hadn't see anything. That was one matter he would not interfere with.
"Where did you learn this?" Kíli asked as Bilbo treated a cut on his cheek. "I had no idea you were a healer."
"I'm no healer," Bilbo shook his head. "I just know a few common Shire remedies. My mother used to treat me with honey when I scraped my knees as a boy."
"Hmm, this is definitely better than being doused by spirits," Kíli said, giving Bilbo a sunny smile.
"I certainly hope so." Bilbo returned the smile. "If you wait for a bit, I can have a look at your hands, too."
Before he knew it, there were several dwarfs standing around the table, looking expectant. Bilbo looked up at them in surprise.
"If you have any deeper cuts, you should go to Óin. I can only treat the superficial wounds."
"Do you still have any of that potato?" Nori asked.
"Well, yes," Bilbo said, "there should be plenty of it left." His eyes flew over the group. "I'm really not a healer, you know."
Nobody moved. Bilbo gave a small sigh, his expression turning resigned.
"Oh, well. Who's next?"
°O°O°O°
In the morning they woke feeling refreshed and after a plentiful breakfast the dwarves finally sat down to take stock of all the things they had lost in the goblin caves. They weren't pleased with the results – the goblins had taken most of their baggage and so they had lost food, spare clothes, extra weapons and most of their musical instruments. They were left only with the clothes on their back and four backpacks that a few of them had grabbed in their haste. Bombur was quite pleased that he had managed to hold onto his pots and pans, but most of them were awfully grumpy.
Their mood didn't improve when they discovered that Gandalf was nowhere to be found, his absence reminding them of his oncoming departure. They hadn't managed to persuade the wizard to stay with them and help them slay the dragon. Gandalf's mind was set on leaving and convincing him to change it would be nigh impossible. They would still try, of course, but deep down they all knew that their days in Gandalf's company were coming to an end.
Bilbo had snuck out right after breakfast, leaving them to their grumbling. Getting sick of listening to everyone's complaints, Bofur decided to get a breath of fresh air and go find their elusive companion instead. Luckily he didn't need to search for long, because Bilbo hadn't wandered very far. Bofur found him sitting by the little brook that ran through the land behind Beorn's house, washing his clothes. The hobbit didn't seem perturbed by his presence, so Bofur sat down next to him and drew out his pipe.
Bilbo didn't pay him much attention at first, busy with getting the goblin dirt and soot out of his jacket, but when he finally finished washing his clothes and laid them on the grass to dry, he plopped on the ground next to Bofur with his waistcoat in his hands, a frown on his face.
"I suppose the clothes won't get much cleaner," he said resignedly. "It is a terrible shame that I lost my buttons. My jacket and waistcoat are all torn up now and I shudder to think how I will look when we finally arrive to the mountain." He grimaced. "Hardly respectable, I would imagine."
"You really liked those buttons, didn't you?" Bofur asked him with a smile.
Bilbo ran his fingers over the torn threads sticking out from the cloth where the buttons used to be.
"Yes, I did. They were very nice brass buttons with flowers on them. Not as pretty as the golden buttons on my fancy jacket, but I left that one at home. This waistcoat was my favourite, but now it's ruined." His eyes ran over the garment, cataloguing all the damage. "I suppose that I can make it presentable again with a bit of mending, but I will have to make do without buttons. It's a shame."
"Give it here." Bofur reached for the waistcoat, fingering the torn cloth thoughtfully. "I am pretty sure that Ori still has his sewing kit. You could borrow it and repair the tears. How big were the buttons?"
As he sat listening to Bilbo's avid description, a thought started forming in his head. He didn't say anything to Bilbo though, wanting it to be a surprise.
One of those huge yellow bees buzzed overhead and landed on a nearby clover patch. They both watched it work, not moving from their comfortable position on the grass. The sun had already risen above Mirkwood and was now bathing their little spot by the water in warm morning light. With the rest of the dwarves all holed up in the hall the air outside was quiet, the only noises made by the bees and the occasional breeze that found its way through the mighty oaks that stood all around them.
They sat like that for a while, basking in the sun, until they got interrupted by Kíli, whose head appeared around the corner.
"Uncle is looking for you, Bilbo."
"I am afraid he will have to come here, if he wants to talk to me," Bilbo informed him. "My clothes still haven't dried and I am not going to parade around the house half naked."
Kíli's head disappeared and soon enough Thorin came around the corner, halting when he saw them sitting together. His eyebrows pulled into a frown as he took in the scene and Bofur suddenly realized how their position could look to an outsider – Bilbo sitting on the grass dressed only in his smallclothes, the two of them bending close together to look at the fabric laid over Bofur's lap. Seeing Thorin's eyes start to narrow, Bofur hastily got to his feet, handing Bilbo his waistcoat back.
"I will go ask Ori about that thread and needle and see what can be done about the buttons. I am sure the waistcoat and jacket can both be salvaged." He hastily backed off, making sure to give Thorin a wide berth when he passed him. The older dwarf didn't seem to be in a very good mood and Bofur had no intention of risking his wrath. Instead of listening to their conversation, Bofur headed straight inside, making a beeline for Bifur.
His cousin was quite enthusiastic about helping him and immediately went outside to search for a suitable piece of wood. In the meantime Bofur managed to sweet-talk Ori into lending him a needle and a piece of thread.
Bilbo came back to the hall half an hour later, fully dressed and trailing behind Thorin with a disgruntled look on his face. He sat down with Bofur and Bombur, shooting bewildered glances in Thorin's direction as he ate.
"Thorin took it into his head that I need to learn sword fighting, of all things," he told them in a low voice when they asked him what happened. "He wants Dwalin to teach me. I am not sure which one of us is less pleased about the idea."
They turned to look at the tattooed dwarf, who was staring into his soup, looking thunderous.
"Dwalin taught Fíli and Kíli, you know," Bombur pointed out. Bilbo gave an exasperated huff.
"Yes, but they are both dwarves. You are good at these things. I am more likely to accidentally cut off my toes than slay orcs."
"Not all of us are good at fighting, you know," Bofur said. "And those who are have had decades of practice. There is no shame in being a beginner. Also, Dwalin may not look it, but he can be surprisingly patient."
"We'll see about that," Bilbo muttered into his soup.
°O°O°O°
For skilled carvers like Bofur and Bifur it took just a few hours to make a nice set of simple buttons. Bofur would have been satisfied with a plain, functional design, but Bifur insisted that they carve flowers on them, so it took them until mid afternoon before they were satisfied with their work. They presented them to Bilbo at teatime, rendering the hobbit speechless. He took the small pouch reverently, looking at them with wonder.
"You...made me buttons." He ran his thumb over the flower design. "This means a lot to me. Thank you."
And before Bofur could react, Bilbo reached up and gave him a warm hug. There was little left to do but hug back, and Bofur couldn't help but marvel at how simple it was to win the hobbit's affection. Bilbo pulled away from him with a smile, but paused when he came before Bifur, obviously unsure how to convey his thanks.
"Thank you, Bifur," he said finally, giving the dwarf a tentative smile.
Bifur grinned back and patted his shoulder, answering in Khuzdul.
"You're welcome," translated Bofur. "It was the least we could do for you."
Bilbo gave them one more smile and scuttled away to attach his new buttons to his clothes. He was completely oblivious of Thorin's eyes following him to the corner; Bofur, however, was only too conscious of the weight of that gaze when it settled on him. Bofur had no idea what Thorin's newfound interest in the hobbit meant, but he wasn't too pleased to be caught in the scrutiny as well.
For lack of anything better to do Bofur decided to take a walk across Beorn's grounds. He had noticed the horses the previous day and wanted to give them a closer look. The corral stood just behind the house, its wooden planks far enough apart for him to reach through and pet the horses' heads. Beorn's horses and ponies were big, shaggy and very friendly, inspecting Bofur's pockets for pieces of bread that he had squirreled away at breakfast. He spent a good while petting them, pushing away their inquisitive noses when they tried to chew on his braids.
Bofur had always liked animals, but there was little opportunity to keep any back at home, because his quarters in Ered Luin were deep inside the mountain. His mother used to keep songbirds when he and Bombur were little, but after their father had died in a cave-in she had set them free and never kept any birds again.
Unlike him, Bifur was always surrounded by animals. He took care of the king's hunting dogs and was always willing to feed any stray cat that came to his door. When he wasn't annoying Bombur or drinking with the lads, Bofur spent most of his free time at Bifur's house, helping him feed the menagerie. Bifur was always happy to see him and Bofur enjoyed the visits because they gave him an opportunity to take a break from the endless darkness of the mineshafts.
The ponies lost interest in him after a while and went back to eating grass and rolling around in the dirt. Bofur took the long way back, going around the far side of the house to admire Beorn's beehives. Listening to the peaceful buzzing, he wondered whether he would be able to keep bees in Erebor, once they got it back. After a hundred years he was getting sick of mining.
When he turned the corner, he spotted Bilbo on the porch, sitting on a bench with Ori. The hobbit had his little book open in his hand and Ori was peering at it eagerly, exclaiming every now and then when he found something interesting. Too curious to leave them be, Bofur made his way over to them.
Bilbo was just pointing to a drawing on one page.
"And that is one of the trolls. I am afraid the likeness is not very truthful to the original, as I was rather busy hanging upside down to look at them properly."
Ori shook his head with a grin.
"I think it looks fine. You should see some of Dori's drawings. You wouldn't be able to tell apart a dwarf from a tree."
"Oi! I heard that!" came an affronted yell from inside the hall.
"What else do you have in here?" Ori asked.
Bilbo skimmed through the pages briefly.
"A few drawings, some maps and a lot of notes." He raised his head to look at Bofur. "I'm planning to write a book about this adventure when I come back home," he explained.
Bofur sat down at Bilbo's other side, taking a peek at the book.
"That's an awful lot of notes."
"I like to be thorough," Bilbo said. "Besides, it will be a long time before I return home. I could forget a lot in the meantime and the tale wouldn't be as good then."
"Would you like me to do some illustrations for your book, Mr Baggins?" Ori asked, eyes alight with enthusiasm.
Bilbo gave him an indulgent smile.
"It would be an honour, Ori."
Ori jumped up, practically bubbling with excitement, and ran into the house to get his drawing supplies. Bilbo looked after him with fond exasperation.
"The lad is rather excitable, is he not?"
Bofur chuckled, reaching for his pipe.
"He's young and this is his first big trip outside the Blue Mountains. I would be excited too, in his place. May I?" He reached his hand towards the little book and waited for Bilbo to hand it over. Puffing from his pipe, he started reading. He belatedly realized that Bilbo was sitting next to him empty handed.
"You're not smoking today?"
"I lost my bag of pipe weed in the cave," Bilbo grumbled.
"Here, have some of mine." Bofur handed him his own pipe and went back to the book. It wasn't long before he started laughing.
"Oh, this is priceless. Will you be putting it in the book, too?"
Bilbo looked over his shoulder to see which part Bofur meant.
"That depends on how annoyed with you lot I will be when this adventure is over."
Bofur went back to his reading, chuckling occasionally when he came across something amusing. Bilbo sat next to him, making smoke rings and looking at peace with the world.
"Do you know what I missed most in the goblin caves?" Bilbo's question was quiet, wondering.
"Food?" Bofur guessed.
"Sunlight." Bilbo tipped his head back towards the sun and closed his eyes, letting the warm rays of light caress his face. "I missed the sun, like I have never missed anything else before. We hobbits may live in holes in the ground, but they are well lit and there is always plenty of sunlight. It was terrible to think I would never see the sun again."
Raising his arms up in a languid stretch, Bilbo got up from the bench and traded Bofur's pipe back for his book. He stepped down from the low porch and he made a few steps until he was up to his calves in grass.
"I missed this, too." He turned back and gave Bofur a playful grin. "You know, you dwarfs are missing out on a lot, always walking around with your feet imprisoned in those death traps. You should try walking barefoot sometimes."
Bofur shook his head in mock regret.
"Maybe some other time. I am too intimidated by the bees to try it here. One sting and my leg would fall clear off."
The hobbit laughed, his eyes filling with mirth.
"Yes, they do look a bit scary, don't they? Still, it's your loss, Bofur. You don't know what you're missing out on."
Ori came running back, clutching a few sheets of paper and a charcoal in his hands.
"I've got my drawing supplies!" he announced eagerly, skipping down the stairs.
"That's wonderful," Bilbo told him with a smile. "Come, let's take a walk around the grounds and you can tell me about your ideas for my book."
"It's beautiful here, isn't it?" Ori said, joining Bilbo's side. They started walking at a leisurely pace, leaving Bofur to sit on the bench by himself.
"Indeed it is," Bilbo said. "It feels a lot like Shire in some ways." He gave Ori a look. "Did you know that hobbits are said to have come from these lands? Some of our tales claim that before my ancestors crossed the Misty Mountains and settled down in the Shire, they used to live in the lands around the Great River."
"Really?" Bofur heard Ori say before they disappeared around the corner. Bofur had half a mind to join them, feeling curious about the topic of their conversation, but in the end decided to remain sitting and leave them alone. Ori deserved to have some time away from his overprotective brothers and Bofur could always ask Bilbo about the hobbits at some other time. He had a feeling that there would be more than enough time for conversation in the forest.
°O°O°O°
"So, Master Baggins," Thorin said, as they sat down for supper, "you have told us plenty about what you are not, but you have made little mention about what you are. You have been travelling with us for three months already, but we know almost nothing about you."
That prompted several thoughtful looks around the table.
"Aye," spoke Glóin, "now that I think about it, you really haven't told us much. You can cook and sing and speak elvish, but we only know about that because the tree-shaggers wouldn't shut up about it. When I asked Gandalf about you, he started being all mysterious and refused to answer."
"He did the same to me," Dori grumbled. "I didn't get a single sensible word out of the wizard. There is plenty I'd like to know, but one thing interests me in particular: How on earth did you get past the goblins after we lost you?"
And so Bilbo told them all about Gollum and the game of riddles, carefully leaving out any mentions of a magic ring (Bofur later had to admire the skill with which he had spun his tale, blurring details just enough to make it believable). His Gollum impression made the hair stand on the backs of their necks and when he finished they made him tell the whole tale all over again, so that they could make sense of it.
"Let me get this straight," Nori said when Bilbo finished his tale. "You managed to sneak around a small army of goblins, outwit a dangerous goblin-eating creature and find your way out of the mountain in complete darkness when you got lost in a maze of tunnels." Bilbo nodded slowly. "That is no mean feat indeed. If I had a hat, I would tip it off to you."
"Here, you can borrow mine." Bofur threw him his hat with a grin. Nori caught it with his right hand and stood up, making a show of taking it off his head and bowing low before the hobbit, who was staring at him with wide eyes. The halfling may not have realized the full significance of the gesture, but getting acknowledgement for his skills from Nori, an infamous thief and master of stealth was high praise indeed.
"And that stunt with the Azog...you have courage, lad, I have to give you that," Dwalin chimed in, giving the hobbit an appraising glance. The rest of the company were looking at him with new respect. Even Thorin looked impressed despite himself.
"Tell me, Master Baggins, are there any other skills you are hiding from us?"
Bilbo appeared highly flustered with all the attention.
"I do not have any secret skills, really. I'm just a hobbit. There is not much interesting about me."
"Surely there must be, or Gandalf wouldn't have chosen you as our companion." Kíli was leaning across the table, his eyes alight with interest."Tell us more about yourself, Bilbo. You have been keeping to yourself too much."
Bilbo sighed, reaching for another honeycake.
"What would you like to know?"
"What's your occupation?" Dori spoke up from the other end of the table. "You have mentioned plenty times that you are not a burglar, but you haven't mentioned your profession at all."
Bilbo shifted in his seat.
"That's because I don't have one. I'm a gentlehobbit, which basically means that I have inherited enough gold to never have to work a day in all my life, if I wished so."
It's no wonder he hasn't mentioned his wealth before, Bofur thought when he saw the disapproving frowns around him. The hobbit's luxurious lifestyle could be almost considered a mockery to someone living their live in exile. Bilbo probably noticed the change in mood too, because he hastened to continue.
"I will not deny that I have led a very comfortable life, but I would die of boredom if I did not have anything to occupy myself with. I used to travel a lot in my youth. I have travelled as far as Weathertop in the east and Fornost in the north."
"So you actually did travel?" Fíli asked. "Gandalf didn't make that up?"
"No." Bilbo smiled. "I have even been to the Blue Mountains once, but I did not stay for long." He smiled at their surprise. "Yes, I have seen your city in the mountains and the Grey Havens of the elves. However, after my father unexpectedly died fifteen years ago I had to stop wandering about and start looking after my mother and the family estates. My father owned several vineyards in East Farthing that were bought by my grandfather more than a hundred years ago. Since I was his only child, all of it passed to me."
He laughed suddenly.
"You know, Thorin was not far from the truth when he called me a grocer. I am a trader, of sorts, though most of my contribution to the business consists of signing papers and paying out wages. I have to admit that leaving like I did was highly irresponsible of me. I was not jesting when I said that I cannot just go running off into the blue. I abandoned a lot of responsibilities when I ran off with you lot. Someone has to oversee the fields, to make sure the grapes are tended well and the wine is a good enough quality before it can be sold."
"So you're a wine merchant?" Dwalin asked with a hint of distaste.
"I prefer to think of myself as a scholar," Bilbo replied haughtily, making them laugh. "Anyway, I spend most of my time reading and tending to my garden. The vineyard business mostly takes care of itself."
The talk turned to other things after that, the conversation flowing pleasantly. Everyone was relaxed, drinking and laughing and Bilbo sat at the centre of the company, looking - for the first time since the start of their adventure - completely at ease.
As Thorin's deep laugh resonated around the table, Bofur suddenly realized that he hadn't heard their leader laugh for a very long time. Thorin had been grim for most of their journey, weighted down by his sense of duty and his failure to get their quest more support, and only now, when he had finally let his guard down around the hobbit, could Bofur fully appreciate how tense and suspicious Thorin had been around the Halfling before.
The contrast in Thorin's demeanour was striking and it was subtly reflected by the rest of the group. Bilbo had had few friends among them before the events of the goblin cave, but now that he had been declared a full member of the company, they had all become much more relaxed around him. Bofur wondered if Bilbo realized that, or if he was oblivious of the change. One could never tell with him.
"Will you sing for us?" Kíli asked the hobbit an hour later, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. "You sang for the elves already, so it would be only fair if you sang for us, too."
Bilbo gave him a grin.
"I'll be happy to sing for you, if you ask me nicely enough."
"You could recite some of your own poems, too," Ori suggested helpfully. Bilbo grimaced.
"No. Definitely not."
"Why not?" Kíli pouted. "I'm sure they are good." His expression slowly morphed into a leer. "Or are they too bawdy for an upscale company such as this?"
Bilbo gave him a look of horror.
"No, that's not what I-" he stammered, clearly out of his depth. The dwarves started laughing uproariously and Bilbo's face turned bright red. He reached for his drink and took a long swig. "There's no need for me to write any of that, since we have plenty of stuff like that already in the Shire," he muttered into his tankard.
"Oh? Do you?" their interest piqued, everyone's gaze turned to the bright-faced hobbit.
"Surely you wouldn't deprive us of such fine art," Bofur told him cheekily, nudging him with his elbow.
"By Valar, you're horrible," Bilbo moaned, torn between mortification and laughter. He ran a hand over his face. "I'm not drunk enough for this."
"That can be easily fixed," Fíli assured him, his grin taking on a slightly predatory edge.
"I was afraid of that," Bilbo murmured, but the crinkles in the corners of his eyes betrayed his amusement with the situation.
"Here, this should help." Bofur pushed a fresh tankard of mead in front of the hobbit. Bilbo raised it to his lips with a resigned look.
"So, what would you like to hear?"
To be continued...
A/N: I made a ton of notes when I did my hobbit re-read and one of the things that I noticed was that Bilbo doesn't call the dwarves his friends until he's lost in the goblin cave. He travels with them for over two months before he even starts considering them his friends. If that doesn't speak volumes about his reception within the group, then I don't know what does.
Those of you who have read An Unexpected Proposal may notice some familiar elements in this story (Bilbo's source of wealth being one of them). The reason for that is simple – this story was written first (most of it, at least) and the Unexpected Proposal grew out of the notes I had for this after a random spark of inspiration. The two stories are completely different in most ways, but some elements of my head cannon have stayed the same.
For an alternate (and more smutty) take on their night of drunkenness at Beorn's, go read my other fic When the bear's away. If you wish, you can use it to fill in the blank that this chapter has left. Otherwise I'm leaving those events entirely to your imagination :D
Fanart for this chapter can be found here: nazgullow dot deviantart dot com / art / Discovering-Mr-Baggins-Bofur-425549156