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Chapter Seven: Centenarians and Night-time Visits

Trembling hands touch a cold brass handle.

A room left forgotten; lived in, yet abandoned.

Agonized wails send neighbors scurrying away.

Despite his twenty-five years of interaction with the land (via mining) Bofur proves to be only marginally more adept than Fili and Kili when it comes to Bilbo's garden. Whilst he can tell the difference between a bramble bush and a wisteria- and knows the correct way to use a shovel- putting such skills in combination with creating some sort of order seem slightly out of his grasp.

Bilbo doesn't mind; he's happy to spend his afternoon with three amusing people that all remind him in some way or another of Anaya. It makes him feel almost as if he were back home in the Shire; weeding out his garden whilst Anaya lounged lazily on his love-seat, languidly smoking the clay pipe she'd stolen from her grandfather. She'd never been much of a green-thumb either.

Together they worked for another two hours or so, the three locals toiling under the strict tutelage of Bilbo. With four people in his rather spacious front garden, they make remarkable headway and by two-thirty they had cleared almost all of the brambles- save for those that gathered under his kitchen window, which seem to be particularly insidious. For now, they leave the clippings out the front of his gate; Bilbo promised the boys that once they were fully dry, he would indeed have a bonfire to commemorate their fine efforts.

Of course, destroying hapless vegetation in a garden long since gardened came with its advantages. In two hours they had quickly collected an assortment of objects, swallowed by neglect decades ago. Kili was the first to find something- a crumbling pair of children's leather boots, with laces that disintegrated upon touch. With a great deal of reverence for the ancient booties, he'd placed them carefully outside Bilbo's front door. He planned to take them home and clean them to see what could be preserved.

Not to be outdone, Fili had crowed with delight when he stumbled across the remnants of a stone bird bath. It was carved from the same stone as the house and the carvings about its lip and broken base were reminiscent of the design on his front door. Bilbo thought it would look quite charming were the basin to be repaired and placed on a new pedestal.

Bofur, curiously enough, turned into their own metal detector. Though only concerned with killing off the undergrowth, he'd inadvertently collected almost a dozen pieces of tarnished cutlery (how it managed to get into the yard in the first place was anyone's guess) and twenty-six coins, all of varied age and value.

And Bilbo almost broke his spade when he came across a medium sized metal box under the shade of his apple tree. The boys had been almost bursting with excitement when the two older men had lifted the remarkably well preserved box (given its placement… in the ground) from its carefully dug hole. That was at least until Bofur had carefully pried open the lid. Stale air washed over them; inside was the skeleton of what looked to be a cat, most of its flesh long since rotted away.

Bofur guessed from the make of the box that the unfortunate creature was probably over a century old. Somberly, they return the exhumed feline to its grave. Wraith- who'd suddenly appeared the moment the sharp clang of Bilbo's shovel alerted the others- watched from the base of the apple tree, acid-green eyes following their every move. When the deed was done, the cat lost interest. Watching Wraith's receding form, Bilbo wondered idly if his squatter had somehow known there was a body hiding there.

Come three o'clock and they ventured back inside- the locals being careful not to get any dirt on Bilbo's floors… or at least, they made sure to after Fili had gotten a strict telling off for traipsing into the house with his filthy boots still on two hours prior.

The kitchen was much as they'd left it- the table and battered looking chairs still pulled to one side- the only exception being the trapdoor, which was once again firmly shut. Bilbo thought nothing of it- three hours in the garden was thirsty work and most of them had gone in to have a drink- he simply figured that one of the boys, or maybe even Bofur had closed it during one of their trips. Wraith followed them in- considerably cleaner and spryer than the other four and jumped back onto the bench to settle himself on the windowsill again.

"Tea?" Bilbo asks as he fills the jug in the sink.

"Coffee… please," comes the synchronised reply for Fili and Kili.

"Got any beer?" inquires Bofur. Bilbo rolls his eyes.

"In the fridge… Fili, Kili, do you mind moving the table back?" the sound of wood dragging on stone is his only reply.

Soon enough they were sitting around his table again, sipping at too-hot drinks (and beer in Bofur's case) and nibbling away at a pack of digestive biscuits that Bilbo had triumphantly pulled from his pantry. Another companionable silence fills his kitchen until Wraith jumps down from his place at the window to transfer into Bilbo's unsuspecting lap. He starts violently at the intrusion into his personal space, but can't help himself once the animal settles there and contents himself with stroking the feline's silky fur.

Bofur watches the silent interaction shrewdly.

"That's an interesting pet you've got there," he says into the silence, Bilbo looks up, distracted.

"Hmm?"

"Kili was just telling me before that it let them in when you weren't awake this morning." Bilbo frowns down at Wraith.

"Actually, yes… you never did explain how he did that Fili." The young man squirms uncomfortably.

"Well he didn't let us in, per se… but we'd been knocking at your door for five minutes before we checked to see if it was locked- it was- so we kept on knocking. We figured you'd wake up eventually. Except then Kili tried the door again five minutes later… and… well… it opened. And there was the cat, watching us from behind the door."

They all turn to start at Wraith, varying levels of disquiet written across their faces. The cat opens one eye when Bilbo's steady petting halted.

"Mrrow." It says into the heavy silence and closes its eye to fall asleep again. His input seems to dispel the uneasy quiet.

"We'd kind of just figured I hadn't checked the door properly the first time… it just sounded funny to think that the cat had let us in." Continues Fili. Bilbo smiles slightly and resumes his stroking.

"Yes, I'm sure that was just the case."

Bilbo is quite certain he'd locked the front door last night before collapsing into bed last night.

The strange moment passes, and they fall into an easy conversation about the comings and goings of Erebor. Bilbo, being the only non-local at the table is eager to learn the ins and outs of the place; the people-to-know, the people-not-to-know and all the places to check out and become acquainted with. His guests are more than happy to oblige and they spend a good hour or so enthusiastically discussing (and in some places heatedly) the best landmarks to explore (the gates to the original mine, the barrow tombs and stone circles of the town's ancient inhabitants) and the best places in town to get the things he needs. Fili and Kili boast about the fine homemade ale sold at the local tavern- The Angry Dwarf- run by their mother Dis- who, according to all three locals, is beyond terrifying.

Bofur excuses himself at about five- he'd promised to have dinner with his brother and his large amount of offspring. The talk of dinner alerts Bilbo and the Durin brothers to the fact that they are in fact ravenous. An entire pack of digestives between four people- two of them hungry young men and another a Baggins (in the Shire, the Bagginses were renowned for their prodigious appetites, yet unusually small figures)- was very clearly not enough to fill their stomachs.

Bilbo remembers some delicious-looking sausages hiding away in the meat draw of his fridge and fishes them out. They do, indeed, look as good as he remembered and he turned to the boys in askance.

"Will you stay for dinner?" if possible, Kili's adoration grows even stronger.

"You're going to feed us again?" he breathes in wonder. Bilbo laughs through his nose and shares a look with his brother.

"Anyone would think you'd been starved half your life," he says as he bustles around the kitchen, fetching the cast iron frying-pan and a pot. The onions and potatoes are hiding in the pantry, carefully closed away in a wooden bread-box.

Ever the diligent host, Bilbo refuses to let the brothers' help. Although when it comes down to it, this may be more because he doesn't trust them with sharp pointy things (what with their performance in the garden) and less because of his hosting principles. So they sit and talk, and Bilbo listens, occasionally throwing in a question on two about their dreams and aspirations.

And by Aule, but doesn't that make him feel old.

Kili loves archery; several times a month he wanders off into the wilderness with Fili to hunt wild deer or occasionally even boar. He talks of a little fox vixen that he befriended recently, feeding her scraps of food behind the tavern- he's hoping that come spring she'll have had cubs for him to see, and perhaps even breed- he'd read somewhere about domesticating foxes. Fili smiles indulgently at the fantasy. He has a soft spot for art and the like- an appreciation of which is something Bilbo gets the general feeling has been lost in this little town.

When asked about what he wants to do with himself, the younger brother falls short, shrugging with a callous ease that speaks of youth and naivety and uncertain dreams for the future. He has an entire lifetime to work out what to do with himself and Bilbo doesn't grudge him for that- even if he'd been busting his ass in med school at Kili's age.

Fili, being the elder, has somewhat more of the plan. He talks of going to university- to do what, he's not entirely sure, but he figures he'd work it out once he gets there. There's a certain set to his face that tells Bilbo of his unsurety, and he has suspicions that there's someone (or someones) in his life holding him back- one way or another. Instead of asking about such things, he just smiles and asks about his thoughts on a business or arts degree; that perhaps he should go to a few university open days before choosing. Fili smiles so genuinely at that that he has to turn away- such easy smiles reminds him of someone else and he can't bear to think about that.

"You know," Kili says, in-between mouthfuls of dinner, "I would have thought I'd have found this kind of thing more weird." Bilbo raises a confused eyebrow.

"Weird meaning what, exactly?"

He screws up his face, trying to find the words, "well… kinda haven't known you for long-"

"All of about eight hours." Interrupts Fili, looking at his watch.

"Yeah. And now here we are, sitting at your table eating the dinner you made for us."

"…Your point being?"

"Well, Erebor doesn't exactly get a lot of new people… in fact we don't get any. And it's not as if Fili and I have ever travelled much. So I dunno… would someone consider this normal? Or are you just unusually hospitable?"

The recent memories of throwing Balin and Dwalin out of his house not two days before comes to mind and he smiles sheepishly. Then he remembers the Shire and its infamous hospitality. It's not as if he wasn't raised to greet complete strangers as if they were long time family friends… he'd just sort of… forgotten it of late.

"My parents did raise me according to the Shire standards… so normal… maybe? I don't know, it's not really a thing I've ever thought about. We just welcome people- and food's always been a big part of that." He stops himself from gesticulating with his fork and embarrassing himself by flicking mashed potato or something equally stupid.

The brothers nod slowly. Kili seems deep in thought about the concept and something tells Bilbo that Ereborean's might be pretty big on the isolationist front. A feeling of unease settles in the pit of his gut as he considers a life in a town hostile to newcomers.

But that would be ridiculous wouldn't it? After all they'd been the ones to open their gates and sell off their old houses. One would have thought that was an open invitation for new blood. He shrugs off the sensation and smiles again at the boys before turning back to his dinner.

Fili and Kili are telling him about their recent escapades with their cousin Gimli, who'd found someone in Dale to be mooning over whilst they wash the dishes (they'd started before he'd even realized, and he just decided not to protest). Bilbo has an inkling that the brothers might not be the best wingmen for poor cousin Gimli and he can't help but giggle at the thought of them whispering ridiculous fallacies about the boy into his recent heart-throbs ears. They're half-way through at tale involving a stick of celery and a very nonplussed barman when there comes a knock at the door.

Fili turns around to eye Bilbo, "Expecting anybody?" Bilbo frowns and shakes his head.

"No… unless it's maybe Gandalf-" he suddenly remembers that he's very mad at the crazy bugger and stands up, brushing down his shirt with a deceptively large amount of calm,"-Who I am going to hurt. Very much." He stalks out of the hallway, guns blazing.

Back in the kitchen, Fili and Kili share a confused look, sounds of "Gandalf you bastard I'm going to kill you!" and "My door, my beautiful door Aule-dammit Gandalf!" echoing into the kitchen.

Bilbo hears hysterical laughter emanating from the kitchen as he rants his way to the front door. He's halfway through a "You'd best be planning on taking that off you mad old bastard!" when he opens the door.

He trails off.

It's not Gandalf.

A man stands at his doorway- not as tall as Dwalin was, but tall enough to tower over Bilbo's diminutive 5'6" status. His eyes are grim, the set of his mouth borderline sullen and framed by a close cropped black beard flecked with grey. Two braids fall down the sides of his face, clasped in ornate silver beads, the rest of his thick black hair worn in much the same style as Fili's. He can see a fair amount of grey streaks in it; though he couldn't be older than forty-five.

Bilbo feels intimidated just by standing there under his scrutinizing gaze. This is the face of a man who smiles little and laughs less. Power emanates him in waves, as potent as Dwalin, but there hangs a more… regal, commanding air about him. It renders him silent and frozen, like a frightened rabbit and he can't help but want to kick himself for that simile.

"Expecting someone?" the man rumbles and holy cow it's like thunder and lightning bearing down on him all at once, sizzling through his veins and burning through his blood.

His fingers grasp and clench at his side and all he can muster is a strangled "…not really…" before lapsing back into a sort of stunned silence. Not that the man is helping- by Aule, he's just standing there, staring at Bilbo as if he could eventually burn straight through him.

For a brief moment he feels the urge to giggle hysterically; this whole thing is entirely too melodramatic for such a commonplace meeting. Then as suddenly as it came, the pressure stops; the man looks beyond him and into his home and Bilbo is able breathe again.

Now that he's not pinned to the spot he can study the man himself. He seems vaguely familiar, and the awareness scratches at the corners of his mind annoyingly for all of three seconds- right up until the point where the man grumbles out to him "Is Fili and Kili here?"

Bilbo blinks at him dumbly. Well that would explain it; relative of the boys then. Father maybe, or uncle or something. An awkward silence is prevented by said relatives walking down the hall- curious to know who the new door-knocker is.

"Uncle!" Kili exclaims exuberantly from down the hall. Bilbo turns and steps out of the way just in time to avoid the flying blur of dark hair launching itself at the stranger. Fili follows at a more sedate pace, grinning broadly.

"Enough of that, you only saw me this morning," their Uncle scowls, though it seems as though his eyes looks a little less serious to Bilbo, who watches their interaction feeling very much like a bystander.

"What brings you here Uncle?" asks Fili after his brother has been removed from the tall man's person. He glares at the boys with eyes that glitter like sapphires in the dim light.

"Fetching you two. Who seem to have forgotten that it's a Saturday night."

Fili and Kili visibly pale.

"Ah shit," whispers Kili, before crying out as his Uncle cuffs him over the head.

"Enough of that. I'll not have the pair of you mouthing off like a pair of guttersnipes."

Kili spins back to Bilbo, rubbing at his head as he does so, "We may have forgotten that we've got work at the Dwarf on Saturday nights," He says sheepishly, "by Mahal, Ma is going to slaughter us! Crap crap crap crap crap!" the brothers run down the path in a panic, then remember their manners and turn around, giving Bilbo a pleading look.

"Sorry Bilbo!" cries Fili.

"We would have liked to have stayed longer!" says Kili

"But we were supposed to be at work an hour ago and Ma is gonna kill us!"

"Thanks for feeding us though!"

Bilbo smiles, and waves them away, "Anytime you two. Feel free to come back whenever! Now go, you've got a job to be at."

The brothers smile gratefully, nod once and turn around, sprinting away from his house. He laughs through his nose when he hears the strained "Shit we are so dead!" from Kili as they run down the street.

They stand awkwardly at the doorway- one on either side- both pretending to be watching the boys run away, even though they're no longer visible. Eventually, the man turns back to Bilbo, looking for all the world as if he were entirely uninterested in holding any form of conversation with him. Irregardless, he does in fact start talking.

"Bilbo Baggins, I presume."

Bilbo purses his lips, only slightly unhappy (after all, it wasn't as if Fili and Kili hadn't been shouting his name liberally only moments before), "It would seem that everyone knows my name, and yet I know no one." The man looks at him for a moment, head tilted slightly to the right (similar to the way Kili studies things, but more composed and self-conscious, as though he'd been trying to quell the behavior) before sighing.

"Yes, well small towns tend to do that. Thorin Oakenshield." He puts out his hand and Bilbo shakes it. It positively engulfs his own; warm and rough and firm, studded with several thick rings. The hands of a working man, though his rings would suggest moreso a man with status, Bilbo notes as he lets go.

He offers Thorin a smile, "A pleasure to meet you Mister Oakenshield."

Thorin's mouth seems a little less grim. Bilbo takes that as a promising sign.

"So," begins Thorin, and oh Aule he knows exactly what's going to come out of his mouth next, "Word is you're a doctor."

Bingo. The muscle below Bilbo's right eye visibly twitches.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself; something tells him that he doesn't want to lose him temper in front of the foreboding Thorin. Perhaps it's because he's Fili and Kili's Uncle. Or maybe it's just the authority and power exuding from his every pore. Then he remembers Thorin's exact wording, and offers him a strained smile.

"Yes, I was a Doctor."

"Was?" Thorin's eyes turn sharp.

"Was. But certain events have left me-" he pauses, looking for the right phrasing, "…unwilling to continue practicing."

Thorin remains quiet for a moment, his gaze merciless. "I see," is all he says as the silence stretches out. Bilbo can't help but feel like the man's been judging him this whole time, and he's only just now deemed him wanting. He wants to shrink away and hide in his house, shielded from those steely eyes.

The silence stretches, warps and turns tacky to the touch. Bilbo finds that he has nothing to say- the pause sticks to his skin and clogs up his tongue. Finally, mercifully, Thorin breaks it.

"Very well," he grumbles, answering some unspoken question of his own perhaps. He nods at Bilbo, "I expect we'll be seeing a lot more of you Mister Baggins."

If Bilbo didn't know any better, he'd call that emphasis on the Mister Baggins a sneer, but Thorin's face remains stonily impassive.

He takes a step away from the door, far enough away that the light from his hallway can't reach and it casts his face in shadow, "Goodbye, Mister Baggins."

"Goodnight." His voice sounds small and tinny to his ears. The taller man nods again and turns away; walks down his garden path as if he'd passed through it a thousand times, like it wasn't full of snags and brambles ready to trip him up.

Bilbo chooses not to watch him pass through his gate and closes the front door with hands that are curiously shaking. He walks back into his kitchen in somewhat of a daze, not entirely sure of what just happened. His good mood that a day outside in good company had wrought is shattered, leaving behind a growing depression that eats away at the corners of his mind and the steadily sinking feeling that some sort of test had just been thrown at him and he had somehow grievously failed.

A/N: so it feels sort of like this chapter was partly prophetic, because the note about a dead cat was written a week ago, and this afternoon I got a call from my Father telling me that my own cat had just died. Which is awful because she'd been my Christmas present when I was ten, and our other cat had only just died six months previously. So yay.

Enough sobbing, hope you enjoyed.