A/N: The watchtower Bilbo sees is supposed to be Weathertop.
Bilbo's first few weeks with the company of Thorin Oakenshield were spent getting to know his new traveling companions, talking, laughing, and joking with them. It didn't take long for him to become especially close to Balin and Bofur in particular.
The scenery along the way was nice, too. It wasn't a sightseeing adventure, but Bilbo admired every farmhouse they passed by, every town they went through, and every rolling green field on the side of the road. Whenever they came upon another traveler on the road, Bilbo always waved. The other person would always be friendly and wave back; once Bilbo even got a "good day" in return.
The adventure took a definite turn after the Company went through the town of Bree. They didn't pass through any more towns after that. The scenery-and the weather-turned perpetually gloomy. One particular landmark stuck out to Bilbo: an old, crumbling watchtower on top of a tall hill. It seemed to him like an ominous castle.
The saddest thing to Bilbo was that they didn't chat or sing as much as they used to. He missed the carefree spirit in all of them. The gloomy weather is affecting all of us, he thought. I wish I could think of something that would cheer us up.
That evening around the campfire, he thought about what was pleasant to him: the comforts of home, singing songs, a good dinner, a warm fire. Back in the Shire, you needed go no further than the Green Dragon Inn to find those things. And the Prancing Pony wasn't so bad, either.
Slowly, an idea formed in Bilbo's mind. He took a quill and his journal from his pack and began to write. Twenty minutes later, he read over his work. Perhaps it's a little too absurd? He began to doubt himself.
"What's that you've got, Mr. Boggins?" Kili piped up, and moved to try to look over Bilbo's shoulder.
Bilbo pressed the paper to his chest. "Oh, n-nothing. I was trying to write a song, but it turned out to be nothing but a bit of nonsense."
"Nonsense songs are perfect for campfires." Bofur looked up from his whittling. "If ya don't mind, we'd love to hear it, right lads?" He looked around at the others. They all nodded eagerly, and echoed Bofur's request.
Bilbo sighed. "Alright," he obliged, "but please don't laugh." He held the paper out, took a deep breath, and began:
There's an inn, a merry old inn
Beneath an old grey hill
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
One night to drink his fill.
His voice was unsteady at first, but as he sang, he noticed Bofur grinning widely and Ori slightly bobbing to the song's rhythm. Bilbo gained confidence at that. He continued, and Kili began to clap to the beat.
The ostler has a tipsy cat
That plays a five-stringed fiddle.
And up and down he runs his bow
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
Now sawing in the middle.
The song went on, and by the end, all the dwarves were cheering. Even Thorin had a small smile on his face.
Bilbo was pleasantly surprised. His silly song was a hit with the Company! He would definitely be writing more songs after this!