SUMMARY:
In which, as is self-evident by the chapter title, there are dwarrows in Bagshot End and Bilbo prepares a very large supper. (Although there are only the first two dwarrows in this chapter... but fear not! More to come!)
Also- MERRY CHRISTMAS (or happy holidays if you don't celebrate Christmas.) I wish you all every happiness!
Bilbo was grateful for the time to prepare for his dwarven guests. He knew that Gandalf didn't always give people so much as a day's warning before turning their lives upside-down and, knowing this, he was going to take advantage of every day of forewarning that he had.
The day after Gandalf left, after breakfast, some cleaning up, and second breakfast with Holman, Bilbo went down to the market and placed several large orders. His own pantry, he knew, was stocked well enough to feed a group as large as the one Gandalf described dinner and supper but not much else.
If he didn't stock up properly, there would be no dessert or snacks or breakfasts at all the next morning! And breakfasts, he had been reliably informed by his father, were the most important meals of the day. Besides, Gandalf wasn't sure when, exactly, the dwarrows were arriving or how long they would be staying. He would be remiss in his duties as a host if he was not fully prepared for however long they decided to stay.
With his hosting duties in mind, Bilbo also ordered a new, sturdy set of plates and silverware from his cousin, Hildigrim Took, and sent word to the library of Bree requesting any and all books they had on dwarrows. He knew next to nothing about dwarrows as most of his own studies focused on Men and Elves. He hoped to remedy this before meeting the dwarrows so as not to accidentally offend them with his ignorance.
During the following week, Bilbo invited several of his relatives, and of course, Holman, over to eat. He tried out several new recipes and rehashed a few secret family recipes as well, asking for their honest opinions and gleaning what he could from their polite responses. He also took the chance to get rid of most of the fresh vegetables in the house — the one book he owned on dwarrows seemed to suggest that they hated what was described rather rudely as "rabbit food."
The book, an account book turned journal of a dwarven miner, did not paint dwarrows as a very cheery bunch. He hoped it was only the exception, and not the rule, for dwarrows to be so gruff and crude but nonetheless mentally prepared himself for the possibility.
A week and a half after Gandalf's visit, the foodstuffs and books arrived. Holman and Bilbo's cousin, Odo Proudfoot, helped him move everything into the house. Though Bilbo knew his Aunt Linda had only sent Odo over for the potential gossip scoop, he was grateful for his help. The amount of food was simply ridiculous and all at once Bilbo doubted whether it would be eaten or not in time for him to leave.
This reminded him that there would be more left behind than food when he left. So Bilbo wrote a will and had it witnessed, detailing what to do with his property and possessions if he did not return within three years and giving Holman the ability to use his money to pay for Bag-End's upkeep and taxes.
He also wrote letters to the Thain, to the heads of the Took and Baggins family, and to Holman about what he wanted done with his property while he was away: namely, nothing. If there was an emergency, he allowed, Bag-End could be used as temporary housing but that was all the allowances he was willing to make on the matter.
Thus prepared, Bilbo spent the second half of the second week packing and repacking and cooking and baking so that no matter what time of day it was, Bag-End always had a warm fire glowing in it and a good scent coming from it.
This was what Dwalin was met with when he approached the hillside along Bagshot Row: an overpowering, mouth-watering blast of cinnamon, roasting meat, and baked bread.
He followed his nose up the hill to a small fenced in yard. Hobbits seemed to burrow into hills to make their homes which seemed to him a smaller-scale imitation of dwarven caverns. He wondered how they were constructed, and if it was done well, and whether or not they ever had cave-ins. But mostly he wondered exactly how much of that delicious smelling food he could get his hands on before the rest got there.
Dwalin pushed aside the gate with ease and stomped up to the front stoop where the note posted on the door stopped him short.
"Knock, don't pull the bell, if you are one of the dwarrows here for supper."
It was written in old Taliska, a language Dwalin hadn't seen in at least a century. Not that this mattered to Dwalin, with the scent of food wafting out of the windows. He knocked firmly on the little green door, unsure what reception he would face but determined to get some of the food no matter his welcome. Gandalf had promised, after all. He did not have to wait long though; moments later the door was wrenched open.
"Bilbo Baggins, at your service," said the funny little man at the door, bowing deeply. "Come in, come in! I have supper waiting in the kitchen. Can I take your cloak?"
Stepping inside, Dwalin bowed in return, feeling slightly flattered by the depth of the — what were they called again . . . hobbits! — hobbit's bow and his polite greeting.
"Dwalin, at your service," he returned. His ma had drilled him with manners when he was a wee lad and, despite Thorin's claims to the contrary, he did know how to greet like a proper dwarf, and to eat like one too when need be. Well, more when he felt the inclination to than when need be, but either way. The hobbit — Bilbo — struck him as a polite enough fellow and had offered to feed him so Dwalin was inclined to return the favor.
He passed his cloak to the hobbit, careful not to crush him with it, and then stood there as Bilbo struggled with the weight of it, eventually hanging it up. He felt slightly awkward; normally his solution to awkwardness was just to ignore it and keep moving but it would probably, in this case, be rude to just brush past the hobbit in search of that thrice curséd scent. Durin's beard, he was hungry!
"P-perhaps, Mr. Dwalin, you'd like to follow me? The kitchen is this way," the hobbit was mumbling a bit, which was rude, but he gestured to his left and Dwalin was content enough with the promise of food to follow him to the kitchen.
When he entered the room it was the heaping pile of biscuits that first caught his eye, then a steaming platter of fish and after that a dish of thickly sliced ham and a tray of fresh loaves of bread. There was also, he noticed upon sitting down and inspecting the table closer, several meat pies and a large pitcher of gravy.
The aroma was even more tantalizing up close, and the spread looked in that moment more beautiful than a dozen sapphires to him, but Dwalin managed to keep ahold of his manners long enough to say the traditional food-thanks.
"Mahal bless this meal and the hands that provided it. May his halls be ever filled with joyful songs and his pockets with gold. With Durin's blood I thank thee and beg it so," he prayed, and then he could wait no longer. He dug in with great gusto, grunting in appreciation.
It was good, all of it. Even if it had been a plain fare he would have been grateful, for he had been on the road for many days with only rations and what he could hunt and "cook" for a meal but this feast was beyond anything he had been expecting. When he paused to breath for a moment, he told his host so.
"I did not expect you to be so welcoming of dwarves, Master Baggins, nor so generous with your food."
The hobbit smiled from where he sat across from Dwalin, replying, "And I did not expect you to be so courteous, Master Dwalin. It seems we both were opperating under preconceived notions. I hope we can both see each other for who we are, not for who the rumors and tales say we should be."
Dwalin growled his assent.
"I-is the food to your liking?"
Pausing only to swallow his last mouthful, Dwalin answered, "It's a fine meal. Best I've had in decades. I thank you for it."
The hobbit flushed.
"It was no trouble. I'm glad you are enjoying it. I could not find much about dwarrow eating habits in my books, other than that greens were not to be on the menu, so I just prepared a bit of everything. I expected you would be quite hungry from your travels; I myself sometimes forget a few meals when I'm on the road, dreadful as that may sound. But have no fear, there is plenty more of that in the dining room and I've got two more full roasts cooking at my neighbor's smial in case what I have is not enough. How many should I be expecting? Gandalf only said to prepare enough for 'somewhat more than ten and a bit less than twenty' so I may have gone a bit overboard just to be on the safe side..." the hobbit trailed off, chuckling slightly nervously.
Though he was likely trying to be discrete about it, his eyes kept straying to the weapons at Dwalin's hips. Smirking, Dwalin removed the weapons and placed them on the table.
"There'll be thirteen of us, if you count the wizard. You might want ta start a place to put weapons or they'll all bring 'em in your kitchen and scare you more, Master Baggins."
"Bilbo is fine," the hobbit — Bilbo — said absentmindedly, adding, mostly to himself, "Where did I put that dratted chest I wonder? It could probably bear the weight of all that iron easily . . . if you'll excuse me, Master Dwarf, I'll be right. Your advice seems sound; help yourself to anything you want while I follow it."
Dwalin answered by doing just that, taking a glass jar of cookies from a nearby shelf and shaking one free.
Just as he heard the sound of some object, assumably a chest, being dragged toward the entryway, a knock sounded against the door.
"Coming! Coming!" puffed Bilbo. Dwalin peered around the corner and chuckled at the sight that met him: Bilbo had shoved the chest against the wall by the door and opened it and was now brushing clean and straightening his fancy vest. Though Dwalin knew little of hobbit fashions, it looked like the hobbit had dressed up for them. How . . . flattering, really. There were not many who cared enough to dress nicely and cook feasts for a host of dwarrow. It made him smile as Bilbo opened the door.
"Balin, at your service," was the dwarf's greeting, along with a sweeping bow in his classic, arms-spread Balin fashion. Dwalin's grin only grew at the sight of his long-missed brother.
Bilbo welcomed him in, introducing himself and assuring him he was not late at all, and, in fact, early. Then Dwalin swept his brother up in a hug and gave him a fond head-butt.
"Evening, brother," Balin smiled, adding, before Dwalin could taunt his newly white beard, "and I see you've befriended our host or, at least, begged a meal off him!"
"By my beard, you are shorter and wider than last we met! And right too. Have you eaten?"
Balin scowled, but his eyes retained their mischievous twinkle. "Wider, not shorter. And sharp enough for both of us. Though I might not stay wider long if I don't get some food in me soon!"
"So I'll take that as a no then," Bilbo interrupted tentatively, "on the 'have you eaten' front?"
"Ah, where are my manners!" Balin exclaimed. "I can't be ignoring the host! Right you are, I have not. Perhaps, despite my rudeness, you'd be willing to remedy that?"
Bilbo beamed, "Of course, of course! I wouldn't be any sort of proper host if I didn't. Follow Dwalin to the kitchen, he knows the way. There's plenty more food left, and if you run low I'll fetch some from the dining room."
Thus the three returned to the kitchen to eat and chat merrily while they awaited the rest of the company, Bilbo fetching drinks and platters of food aplenty to endear himself to the dwarrow and Balin and Dwalin catching up on the time they'd been apart.
Please give me feedback on what you think of my portrayal of the dwarrows (or anything else! I love hearing from you guys!)
P.S. I have no beta, I self-edit so all mistakes are my own. Please don't hesitate to point them out to me so that I can fix them; I won't be insulted!