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Chapter Text

Bilbo Baggins was a quaint and respectable Hobbit. Despite his Took blood and troublesome behaviour as a child, he was the darling of the Shire with no history of nonsense or worrisome secrets, and he had never been involved in anything as unbecoming as a quest!

He adored his life in Bag-End, in the beautiful family home his father had built for his mother. He was full, warm and unassuming of the troubles outside of his rolling hills and fields of corn and countryside.

And yet, it was on the waning summers days, in the crook of his armchair - gazing out the window. Or sat on his bench with his pipe, that he found his eyes resting on the horizon to the east, and a persistent tugging in his gut reminded him of the emptiness of his home, of the multiple guest rooms that echoed with missing people. When he leaned back and shut his eyes, the little Hobbit found images of his mother and father imprinting upon his eyelids. Bilbo would sit for hours, until the tobacco in his pipe had disappeared and the sun had long since gone in.
His was a lonely life, and as happy as he was, he was far from satisfied.

It was on an evening such as this that Bilbo was left pondering over his meeting with a wizard.

Gandalf the Grey had approached him that morning, making strange and wheeling remarks as wizards do, cryptically confusing Bilbo when all he had said was "Good Morning!" to the old man.
Then talk of adventure and irresponsible nonsense cropped up, and Bilbo had hastened to escape back into his little hillside house.

Now sat in his study, with that same old empty feeling in his chest, the little Hobbit once more found himself looking east, and sighing with a longing that he could barely begin to understand.

He missed his mother on days like this.
He cursed the wandering wizard for bringing her up this morning.
He cursed his aching heart and his selfish discontent, but most of all he cursed his very own confusion.

"Bilbo, you indisputable fool," he sighed again, wishing he could understand why he felt so lost in his own life.

He supposed he would have to make dinner for himself before too long.

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He had only just sat down for his fish supper, when the knock at the door caused Bilbo to leap out of his seat in shock.

Who in their right mind would be visiting at this time?

Who would have the indecency to visit during supper?!!

Part of him reasoned that it must be very urgent for a Hobbit to knock during such an important meal, but in that case, who would turn to Mr Bilbo Baggins of all people?!

He shuffled to the hallway, cursing under his breath that his fish was going to go cold, and almost fainted on the spot when he opened the door to see an awfully large Dwarf standing there.

"Dwalin," the bald, tattooed Dwarrow grunted, and bowed deeply - keeping eye contact with the Hobbit in a very judgemental way. "At your service,"

"B-Bilbo Baggins! At yours..?" the smaller of the two stuttered (as he feverishly tied his housecoat's belt at the sudden formalities), and was further shocked when 'Dwalin' walked past him and into his house as if he owned the place!

Catching his breath, the little Hobbit asked in a voice too high for his own liking "d-do we know one another?" To which the burly Dwarf scrunched his face and said "No," as if Bilbo had said something completely ridiculous. "Which way, Laddie? Is it down here?" Dwalin moved with intent and took his cloak off with a steady eye scanning the Smial.

"I-Is what down where...?" The Hobbit asked, and his unexpected guest faced him - throwing his cloak for his host to catch. Bilbo's eyes followed Dwalin, tracing the obscene amount of fur the larger male was wearing. There were several belts and clasps, all Dwarven crafted by the looks of it, and oh Yavanna, Dwalin was certainly very tall.

"Supper. He said there'd be food - and lots of it,"

Bilbo could only make a strangled noise of confusion while Dwalin made his way to the dining room.

He gestured, his hands twitched and he balled them into fists before letting them fall loose at his sides. He tried to speak, and then tried again, and had absolutely no idea what to do with himself.

"He said...? Who said?" The Hobbit asked, although it was mostly to himself.

What purpose did Dwalin have here, and who had told him about food..? Bilbo had many a query cross his mind, and only became more surprised when he heard the doorbell chime. The older man was marching around with purpose, he had thrown his cloak off and Bilbo really wasn't sure what he should do.

"Mr Dwarf, I -"

"Dwalin, son of Fundin. Call me Dwalin, lad," the battle-scarred dwarf rumbled. "Did the door not just sound?" he added when the Hobbit did nothing more than stand there gawping.

Bilbo could have hit himself upside the head; where were his manners that evening?!
He almost tripped over his large feet on the dash to the door once more, opening it swiftly to see a white haired Dwarf smiling at him.

"Balin!" the newcomer clicked his heals and bowed low as he said "At your service!"

"Bilbo Baggins..." the Hobbit greeted despite himself. "Please make yourself welcome...?" he was utterly confounded as to what was going on. Balin thanked Bilbo graciously for 'having them all' and for "agreeing to help so" he then strode into the little Hobbit home and hung his scarlet cloak up before finding his way to where Dwalin was eating his third teacake.

"Mr Balin," he coughed, "um, would you prefer tea or coffee?" he supposed once they were settled he could begin asking what in the name of Yavanna was happening. There was no sense in treating his unplanned guests differently to usual guests; if he ever behaved so rudely his father - Bungo Baggins - would be absolutely rolling in his grave!

"A little beer would suit me better, if it is all the same to you, my good sir," the old Dwarf's snowy beard bounced a little as he chuckled. Bilbo couldn't help but smile back at him.
The old Dwarf looked around the Smial, and when his eyes fell on the largest person in the house, his twinkling grin grew more, "Evening brother..." he said.

"By my beard..!" Dwalin chuckled deeply, "You're shorter and wider than last we met...!" he teased.

"Wider, not shorter," Balin told his brother, "and sharp enough for both of us..." they were smiling and chortling, and then Bilbo was wincing as they headbutted one another. Hard.
Bilbo rubbed his own forehead as if it were he that had almost been knocked out!

The two strangers began talking amongst themselves, small talk and catch ups no doubt, and they were helping themselves to Bilbo's supply of beer while their poor host attempted to assert himself. ("Have you eaten?" Dwalin was asking his brother.) "Um, excuse me, sorry... I - I hate to ah - interrupt, but ah, the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house...? It's, it's not that I don't like visitors... I - I like visitors as much as the next Hobbit," and then the Dwarves were in his pantry, helping themselves to his cakes!
"But I do like to know them - before they come visiting,"

"What is this?" Dwalin asked his brother, sniffing something. "I don't know," Balin said, "I thought it to be cheese - gone blue,"

"Um the thing is," Bilbo kept trying.

"It's riddled with mould," continued Balin.

"I don't know either of you."
The tallest Dwarf threw the cheese over his shoulder.

"Not in the slightest," the Hobbit said, watching the cheese roll past him.
"I don't mean to be blunt, but I - ah - but I had to speak my mind," he put his hands up to stress it, "I am sorry,"
Dwalin and Balin both turned to him at that, and silence fell over them.
Bilbo cleared his throat and rocked back on his heels a little. Who knew how these Dwarves would react.

"Apology accepted," Balin told him, smiling brightly and understandingly - despite obviously not understanding in the slightest when he turned back to his brother to ask him to fill his keg with beer once more! ("Oh, now fill it up, brother - don't stint!" Balin chided s he handed the cup back. Dwalin quickly did as he was told, while the oldest Dwarf continued with "I could eat again, if you insist...".)

The door sounded again - this time it was the door bell chiming softly.
Bilbo slowly turned away from the pantry (and its now resident Dwarves) and allowed a look of horror to cross his features.

Oh Yavanna, please don't let it be more Dwarves! Or worse! Neighbours from Bagshot row asking what the heck these ones were doing here!

When he opened the door to find two young Dwarves standing before him, Bilbo wished this was some sort of nightmare.

The older of the two had a bright sparkle in his eye - an excited one rather than Balin's knowing one. He drew himself up as he took in a breath of air and nodded to Bilbo with a smile.
"Fili," he said, with the air of a noble and a diplomat.
"And Kili!" the darker headed boy said, his eyes were wide and bright. He had looked Bilbo over and had a very determined expression on his young face.
The two bowed in unison, "At your service!"

"You must be Mister Boggins!" Kili grinned, and his companion had an equally wide smile on his blond face.
"Nope! You can't come in! You've come to the wrong house!" Bilbo told them, trying to shut the door, and failing when the youngest Dwarf blocked the door with his body and an exclamation of "What?! Has it been cancelled?" His eyes shone with confusion and more than disappointment. Fili looked between his upset companion and the squinting Hobbit, "No one told us..?"

"Ca- no, nothing's been cancelled...?" Bilbo muttered mostly to himself, having not even heard of plans being made in the first place.

The shining smile returned to Kili's face, and he sighed "Oh! Well that's a relief!" as he barged past Bilbo and into the Smial. Fili followed at a slower pace, smiling to the Hobbit as he walked through confidently.

These Dwarves and their grins and their intrusion into his home!!

Bilbo had little time to consider it all when Fili turned to him and passed him a bag full of his weapons. "Careful with these," he told the Hobbit, looking down at him as if he were younger than the Dwarf. "I just had them sharpened," and Bilbo almost baulked under the weight of them. Did Fili have an entire armoury in his bag??!

The youngest Dwarf was striding circles around the hallway, "It's nice this place!" He exclaimed, taking in all the details. Bilbo would have been flattered, if it weren't for the dark haired Dwarf trapesing mud through his floors! "Did you do it yourself?"

"No... It's been in the family since my father built it..." Bilbo told him absently, and turned in time to see the young ruffian wiping his boots on a box. "That's my Mother's Glory Box can you please not do that," Kili didn't seem to be put off by his yelling however and Fili was still piling more swords and knives into his aching arms.

"Fili! Kili! Come on, give us a hand,"
When Dwalin walked in - not even greeting the new guests properly - grabbing Kili and herding him into the next room, Bilbo had no time to ask what they were doing in his home. Kili was escorted by an arm over his shoulder and some laughter, with Fili soon following and Bilbo was left trying to keep his arms from betraying the weight he carried.
The Hobbit caught them planning to "shove this in the hall else we'll never get everyone in," just as he found a spot to dump Fili's weapons.

"Everyone?" Bilbo exclaimed. "How many more are there?!"
As if he had cursed himself, the door chimed again to signify the arrival of "everyone else".

"Oh no," the Hobbit growled as best as he could. "No... No! THERE'S NOBODY HOME!" he threw Fili's weapons to the side as he marched to the door.
"GO AWAY AND BOTHER SOMEBODY ELSE! THERE'S FAR TOO MANY DWARVES IN MY DINING ROOM AS IT IS!"
Waving a finger to the new arrivals was pointless of course, but made him feel better about emphasising his point. "I-I-If this is some... Clothead's idea of a joke..!" He laughed almost hysterically, and didn't know he reaching for the door. "I can only say it is in. Very. Poor. Taste," as he said this he pulled the door open, and he was thrown aside as soon as the door had the full force of over eight Dwarves falling against it!

The giant group fell flat into his hallway, with groans of protest and shock.
"Get off ya great lump!" was heard alongside words that were most certainly curses - which had the poor Hobbit gasping in disgust.

It was ducking into the doorway that got Bilbo's complete attention however.
The wizard looked at Bilbo and the Hobbit simply sighed.

"...Gandalf."

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He had somehow found time to change from his evening house-coat and back into regular clothes, but returning to the chaos of his hallways was like stepping into a fever dream.

As if four Dwarves hadn't been enough.

Now there were twelve - TWELVE Dwarves running back and forth from his pantry!

Poor Bilbo was near enough going to pass out from the stress of it all.

Yelling at them to put things down was not going to work at all, it seemed.

The sound was deafening, and the mess was enough to think his smial had been raided by trolls!

The poor hobbit couldn't take much more of this...

"That's my wine! Excuse me..!" he interrupted a greying Dwarf only to almost shriek when he turned around to face him. The bearded man had an axe in his head! An axe!

"Ah! Khurzd Belkul," the wine-stealing Dwarf told him in Dwarvish, pointing to his axe as if it explained to the simple Hobbit everything. Bilbo squinted at him.

"He's got... An injury," an even greyer dwarf sighed, coming up behind him. He sounded like he was pitying Bilbo's lack of understanding of their language. It was now he who Bilbo stared at like a madman.

"What - you mean the axe. In his head." the Hobbit bit out sarcastically. Sadly it didn't appear very effective as immediately after, the old dwarf pulled an ear-trumpet to his head.

"Dead?" he mis-repeated. "No. Only between his ears." and with that he went on his way, stating "his legs work fine," in his thick accent as he went.
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The Hobbit was tugging on his suspenders anxiously now as he followed a rather large Dwarf into the hallway. "Tad excessive... Isn't it..." he murmured, given the fact the rather gorgeous Dwarrow was currently carrying three wheels of cheese stacked in his arms.
"Uh, have you got a cheese knife...?" he called, overly aware that he should at least attempt some form of propriety still... The large ginger was very good looking after all.

"Cheese knife!" Another voice piped up, "He eats it by the block," said a behatted Dwarf as he walked past with purpose.

The Hobbit simply stared after them, feeling completely at a loss.

From the corridor to his left - the one leading to his front door, where he wISHED these Dwarves would go back out through and soon - was filled with marching feet carrying more feet above their heads; some Dwarrow were carrying chairs from his living room and into the kitchen where apparently a meeting of sorts where Dwarves ate his food was to take place.
The young "Fili and Kili" who had appeared after Dwalin and Balin were trying - and failing - to figure out how the keg of beer worked. It seemed the pair had been beaten by the tap. Bilbo just hoped they would work it out soon before they decided to take the entire barrel with them.

"Ah! Oh no, that's Grandpa Mungo's chair!" The Hobbit lamented when he spotted the redecorating, "And so is that!" he cried, trying as hard as he could to get in the way of the old Dwarf with the trumpet and bad ears, and almost wrestling him for it.
"Take it back please!" and the Dwarf was pointing to his own head as Bilbo insisted, "Take it back..!"
"I cannot hear what yer saying, lad..." the old Dwarf was explaining, pointing to the Hobbit and his ears, while Bilbo kept pointing to the chair and to the hallway. It was a mess of communication all round to be honest, but Bilbo succeeded in forcing him backwards down the corridor he came from, saying "It's an antique! Not for sitting on!" as one would tell a child not to touch things in a china shop. "Thank you,"

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"That is a book! Not a coaster!" Bilbo was explaining to Dwalin, meanwhile the pack of visitors in the dining room were making up the table and setting the food down (including the three huge wheels of cheese) Gandalf was busying himself with carefully laying knives and forks in pairs when he was approached by a Dwarf with intricate braids holding a tiny tray of tea.
"Excuse me?" said the Dwarf. "Mister Gandalf?
"Yes?" asked the Wizard, looking up from his work. He noticed that little Ori on his other side kept giving him wide-eyed glances, and was carefully reaching past him to place a plate where he had just set a knife and fork down.
"May I tempt you with a cup of chamomile?" Dori asked and he emphasised his question with a bright smile as he poured the little teapot into a cup.

"Oh, no, thank you, Dori. A little red wine for me, I think." The wizard tried to ignore the way Dori's face dropped into a sad frown and ducked out of the dining room to escape the pretty Dwarrow's disappointed face.
He stepped out into the hallway, finding no more room there either.
"Whoop! Mind out," Nori drawled as he and the wizard bumped into one another.
"Yes - ah!" Gandalf stepped back, only to hit his head on the chandelier. He tried to steady it when he spotted two young Dwarves staring at him (and also the chandelier) in great amusement as they carried a barrel of beer between them towards the dining room.
"Fili... Kili..." he nodded to them and the boys were on their way. The Istari decided that it was a better time than any to count the Company - something told him it would be a thing he would be doing a lot on their Quest.
Little Ori came from the hallway behind and migrated to the pantry, followed by Oin and his ear-trumpet. Ori gave the wizard a smile, evidently having wanted to have an another look in awe at the Wizard. Bless him. "Uh... Oin, Gloin," Gandalf counted as Oin's younger brother made his way from the pantry to the dining room. "Dwalin, Balin,"
"Bifur, Bofur, Bombur..." that made nine.
"Dori, Nori..."

The third brother made the list as he appeared again - wrestled from a bowl of tomatoes by their Hobbit Host ("No. Not my prize-winners, thank you! No thank you!" The Hobbit was growling through clenched teeth.)

"...Ori..." Gandalf used his best 'stern-voice' for the young Dwarrow, who let go immediately.

Everywhere the Wizard turned there were Dwarrows. His attention was drawn for a moment when a particular toymaker approached him to speak Khuzdul as he tapped his arm to refer to a shield of oak.

"Yes, you are quite right, Bifur... We appear to be one Dwarf short,"

"He is late is all," a deep accented voice told him. Gandalf looked down to see Dwalin leaning casually against the wall, beer in hand, not seemingly fussed about running round the Smial to help organise everything.
"He travelled north, to a meeting of our kin. He will come."
"Mister Gandalf? A little glass of red wine, as requested," Dori was back - and looking happier now. "It's got a fruity bouquet,"

"Oh. Cheers!" The Wizard said as he took the glass and proceeded to down it in one sip. Rather disappointing that there wasn't more. "Hmm,"
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Chapter Text

After the eating, drinking singing and the throwing of his Mother's poor crockery, the large group had settled somewhat in the Dining Room (under Gandalf's amused gaze). Somehow there was still beer going round.

"The last of our company... Where is he?" a dwarf with a serious face and thick ginger beard asked amidst the chatter and yelling.

The reply came from the elderly Balin - the second to have appeared at Bilbo's door.
"Just late. He was at a meeting in the Blue Mountains..." he said.

Whoever this last "guest" was, he must have been involved with some very important goings on.

"Typical of his Majesty. He cannot tell the east from the west!" Someone chuckled. The resident Hobbit found his ears twitching when they mentioned royalty.

"Excuse me, Mr Balin..." he murmured upon sidling up to the more quiet Dwarves; curious despite himself about the last uninvited guest. "This would be your thirteenth Dwarf? Who is he?"

"Dwarrow, Laddie," Balin said, and for a moment Bilbo thought that was the name of their king.

"Dwarrow...?"

"Not Dwarf - as Men call us. Dwarrow is the proper term. It matters not honestly, we don't mind - or rather, most of us don't, but now you know, little one," he told the Hobbit kindly, and Bilbo let out a soft "ah," of understanding. It was the same as when Men called Hobbits "Halflings", he presumed, which was not something they particularly liked.

"Our King -" Balin continued, and a muttering from the serious ginger Dwarrow returned with something along the lines of "Not quite yet" and "Thrain lost somewhere,".

"Our King is a noble, good and strong Dwarrow. Most of us here are related to him somehow. He's the heir to Erebor and the rightful King Under the Mountain. I think he'll rather like you, Mister Baggins,"

Well that was not unnerving in the slightest! Bilbo felt rather sick, having to make an impression on a King now of all people! How does one host royalty?! He focussed for a moment and then gasped - Balin had said they were all related to the King... Which meant he was already hosting royalty... Oh Yavanna this night was simply becoming more an more distressing.

He buried his head in his hands - ignoring the rabble around him.
And that is when the door sounded.

Immediately, a heavy silence fell over the group, as if most of the Dwarrow were holding their breath. They were expecting something of significance to happen.

"He is here," murmured Gandalf mysteriously (and rather unnecessarily in Bilbo's opinion).

Bilbo felt sick, and took his time on his way to the Entrance Hall.

He wiped his palms on his trousers and held his breath as he reached for the handle.

The door opened, slowly. Bilbo's hands trembled ever-so-slightly. His breathing hitched as the evening air hit his face.

The doorway was empty...?

"Stonemud - at service,"

Bilbo had to look down to see who was there and was greeted by a Dwarf smaller than himself.

"Bilbo Baggins... At yours?"

Every Dwarrow and Wizard in the Smial was gathered round the front porch now, and there was a clear exclamation of excitement and welcome passing through them all.
"Stonemud!!" Someone exclaimed - the young one with mousey hair, "Thank Mahal! I did not know you were to be part of our Quest!"

The newcomer grunted, "Stonemud not. Just followed Princes. Easy."
The Hobbit in the room was far too taken with how small the King was to really pay attention to what was going on at this point.
Distantly, Bilbo heard the sound of the young blonde Fili (the one with all the swords) and his brother being hit upside the heads by Dwalin (along with some foul-sounding Dwarvish curses, and then "We did not think we were easily trackable!") and yet another reference to royalty had him quaking.

"Is this your king...?" The Hobbit asked, and then looked toward Fili and Kíli. "And these his... Sons?"
The little Baggins had no idea how to behave around royalty! Oh Yavanna help this poor Hobbit!

Before he could properly address the king, however, Stonemud had disappeared into the crowd, with cheers and slaps on the back. Bilbo remembered Balin saying they were mostly all related, so it was little surprise they were acting quite casually... He decided he would behave respectfully however, at least until they left his house - it wasn't as if he would see the Dwarf King again after that evening.

The grumbling of Gandalf as he counted the Dwarrow soon caught Bilbo's attention, and drew him from his staring in Stonemud's general direction."Well, I must have miscounted... But no matter... The more the merrier..."

"Excuse me! Gandalf, whatever do you mean...?" Bilbo asked the Wizard. Surely everyone was here now?

The old man's face twitched a little as he bumbled over his words, "Thirteen Dwarves, but now it looks as if we are still one short..."

"Gracious me, I don't know if my house can survive any more Dwarrow!"

He received a strong pat on the back from the Wizard, "Come now Bilbo, one more can't hurt! Thorin is unlikely to cause much of a ruckus, I assure you... Well, so long as no one gets on his bad side..."

"Thorin? Stonemud? Balin, Dwalin?? Gandalf would you please - please - just tell me what they are doing in my house?!" Bilbo hissed the words, and only grew more exhausted when Gandalf slowly toked on his pipe instead of answering - all the while keeping eye-contact.

Poor mister Baggins simply threw his hands in the air with a huff. Unbelievable!

"C'mon lads! When are we gettin' started then?"

The chatter picked up to more agitated conversation... Bilbo was pacing in the atrium outside the Dining Room, and jumped near enough out of his skin when the Dwarrow with the axe in his head suddenly snarled and went for one of the others, having to be held back by the one with the hat.

What a long night this was proving to be...

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The three knocks on the door echoed through Bilbo's heart. He felt his bones resonate with the sound in a way he had not experienced before. The surprise he felt was quickly washed away by the worry that whoever had knocked so powerfully had damaged the front door.

"I'd laugh if it isn't him," a Dwarrow with extravagant star-like hair cackled when the group fell quiet.

"Nori! Hush!" an older one with a beard very intricately braided into a case growled and swatted 'Nori' over the head like a mother would scold her fauntling.

"Oi! Watch the hair! It took an age to get it right!" the first Dwarrow was grumbling and it earned him yet another smack.
As the group followed the Wizard to the door, Bilbo overheard 'Nori' laughing that it wouldn't be surprising if Thorin was later than another unexpected company member.

When Gandalf pulled the door open, Bilbo wasn't able to see who was there, as he was still pushing past Dwarrows to see. He did, however, hear the newcomer's voice.

"Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easier to find... I lost my way. Twice,"
Ignoring a snicker from the hatted Dwarrow when 'Nori' elbowed him in the ribs, the final guest stepped calmly into the Smial. Bilbo assumed he was putting his cloak up with the other thirteen's.

"I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door,"
Finally Bilbo peeped past Dwalin, looking around still rather overwhelmed. The new comer was facing away from the front door and so the Hobbit could only see the back of his head.

"Mark? There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!" Bilbo exclaimed and turned to Gandalf expectantly.

"There is a mark... I put it there myself..."

The pair missed the newest Dwarrow turn around to watch the exchange, with the little Hobbit glaring at the Wizard and Gandalf himself looking rather sheepish. Bilbo did, however, catch what sounded like the newcomer drawing his breath sharply.
Bilbo continued to stare at Gandalf for an answer... One he wouldn't get as the old man cleared his throat and looked away. He gestured to the Hobbit and looked over to the latest guest.
"Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our Company;" and now Bilbo finally turned to see the latest guest. He stepped forward to greet him."Thorin Oakenshield,"

The taller Dwarrow was staring intently at him, and Bilbo felt his ears go a tad warm under such a stare. A strange, twisting feeling knotted in his gut.

"So," said Thorin as he also stepped closer. He crossed his arms and tilted his head as he watched the party's host. "This is the Hobbit," like Fili, this one had a sort of glint in his eyes. Bilbo almost lost his breath staring back into the intense blue.
Thorin and he shared eye contact for a moment longer, which felt like an eternity, before the Dwarrow stepped into a circle of assessing the little Hobbit.
Poor Bilbo's whole face was going red now. Under Thorin's scrutiny, he had no clue how to act. What was this man's interest? He could see the Princes - Fili and Kíli - standing just behind the newcomer, naturally drawn close.

"Tell me, Mister Baggins. Have you done much fighting?"

He assumed this Dwarrow must be some sort of guard. He had an air of nobility surrounding him, and by his behaviour it seemed he was a cautious sort.
"Pardon me...?" Bilbo asked softly, turning on his heel so he could see Thorin's circling.
"Axe or sword. What's your weapon of choice?"

Surely Thorin Oakenshield didn't think a respectable Hobbit had ever even seen such things!

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers," Bilbo said, smiling a little awkwardly and fidgeting. "If you must know...! But, I fail to see..." he breathed "Why that's relevant," Thorin had settled to stand facing him once more, crossing his arms again. He nodded.
"Thought as much," the Dwarrow said softly as he faced his kin just a little. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar," and then he smiled, broadly and with ease. That glint in his eyes had become a sparkle, and Bilbo was taken aback. The Company and Gandalf laughed a little, and Thorin still held Bilbo's eyes with his own, before deciding his assessment was done, and disappearing with the others around him.
Bilbo looked between the guard and Gandalf, and was a little unsure what had just occurred.

Thorin really did have lovely eyes when he smiled... But what was that he said about a burglar?

Gandalf let out a sigh of relief and rested against the ceiling a little. He looked as exhausted as Bilbo felt.
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Chapter Text

The dysfunctional group had settled once more in the Dining Room, now with Thorin at the head of the table, eating what little remained of Baggins' pantry.

Stonemud had refused the offer of food, all the while having a very serious expression on his face. "Stonemud too big already," was all he said.

Nori could tell that the older Khazad had already eaten on the trip to the Shire. He would have done the same, had he the spare food to do so, and he thought it a very clever move on Stonemud's part.

The idea of having food to spare on the journey had been running round Nori's head as he had eaten, and he snatched a few things to hide in his clothes when he was sure he wasn't being watched.

He knew it was a bad habit; that he wasn't on the run or starving in the wilds anymore. He knew everyone would have their rations on the Quest - that Thorin wouldn't let him go hungry... But it was a habit that had been carved into him over the last fifty years, one which had kept him alive countless times.

Could Thorin truly guarantee they would always have enough to go around? And if it came to smaller rations, Nori would be the last in the Company to deserve a meal.

Now taking note of the funny little halfling who was hosting them, Nori felt a little guilty for his filching... But shook the feeling away with a reminder that the Hobbit had agreed to all this, and it wasn't as if he were the only one who had taken Baggins' food.
He reassured himself further that he hadn't even eaten that much in comparison to the others - especially Bombur who was still going for it. Yes, Nori had drunk as much ale as everyone else (and Mahal, was it good stuff. It had been far too long since he last had good alcohol) but he was hardly able to stomach much more than Gandalf had eaten.

Baggins was hovering about in the hall with the Wizard, twittering and shuffling between glances into the dining room and the Company inside.
He particularly seemed to still when staring at the back of Thorin's head. Nori couldn't blame the Hobbit. Thorin was very pretty.

Nori himself was trying with all his might not to glance in Dwalin's direction...he could practically feel the guard's glares in his direction when he had first arrived, and provoking him was the last thing he wanted. It seemed that since they had all come to the same room however, Dwalin had taken to ignoring Nori as much as Nori was ignoring him... Which was both a relief and something which irritated the thief. It annoyed him more that he couldn't explain why it irritated him. It was very dumb and frustrating, and Nori only wanted to ignore all the feelings associated with Dwalin if he could.

Nori couldn't shake his annoyance that Thorin hadn't told him Dwalin would be here... And a stupid little voice in his head reminded him that Dwalin would follow Thorin wherever he went.

Dori had placed himself between Nori and Ori and didn't appear any happier to see him than Dwalin had been. When the oldest Ri brother wasn't looking, Nori reached past him to poke Ori and make him jump. It was hilarious, and he hadn't been caught yet.

He decided it was best to stay silent when with the whole Company. Making himself as unnoticeable as possible was easy and he could not risk getting kicked off the Quest or arrested. Not with Ori here... Not with so much at stake.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin was asking. "Did they all come?"

Nori took a long toke on his pipe, and looked over at Thorin as he replied. He spied the Hobbit lingering in the hallway behind, hovering like a lost cat or bird interested in food but too frightened to come closer.

"Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms,"

"All of them!" Almost all of the group were cheering and thumping each other on the backs with big grins. Nori smiled and fist pumped as they all celebrated.
He couldn't betray Thorin's trust in this, not after all the King had done for him.

"And what did the Dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us...?" Dwalin asked, the only member of the Company to not have cheered. He was turned toward Thorin; appearing relaxed... But Nori knew him, and he knew when he was being ignored and when Dwalin was trying to pretend he wasn't upset or angry.

Nori swore to himself that he would not risk causing trouble on this Quest. He would stay away from Dwalin, ignore his coldness and get this all over with.

"They will not come," Thorin sighed. "They say this quest is ours and ours alone,"

Nori shared a fleeting look with Dori who only shook his head slightly. Nori in turn raised his eyebrows at the most communication between them in a very long time.

"You're going on a quest?" a small voice asked.

Had the Hobbit completely forgotten why everyone was here? Very promising burglar indeed.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow..." Gandalf cut in, changing the subject with an uncomfortable cough. "Let us have a little more light,"

One look at the Wizard's shifty expression and Nori realised that he had never told the Hobbit why everyone was here. What an ass.
Dwalin had moved to carefully move the scones out of Gandalf's way as he placed some paper on the table... Nori quickly shoved away a memory of a young guard sharing cookies on a rooftop with him in Ered Luin a lifetime ago. He didn't want to risk this Quest.

"Far to the east... over ranges and rivers... beyond woodlands and wastelands... lies a single, solitary peak." the Wizard was saying.

Well, maybe he wanted to wait to introduce it properly in person. The guy was good at the theatrics after all. Probably sells better hearing it all now, Nori reasoned.

"The Lonely Mountain." Nori blinked as the Hobbit read the paper in front of him. The thief looked away to poke Ori again.

"Aye, Óin has read the portents... and the portents say it is time," On Nori's other side, Glóin was preaching his older brother's prophetic skills and Nori could practically hear his own older brother rolling his eyes.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain - as it was foretold," Óin confirmed with a passive aggressive glare in Dori's direction. The middle Ri brother decided then that he could get along with the old healer - and if Dori didn't have the time for him, then he must be good company.

"When the birds of yore return to Erebor..." Óin said, "The reign of the beast will end." Nori hung off each word as Óin recited the legend in a voice suitable for kids' stories. He listened with interest - along with his younger brother and the Princes. Even if it was bullshit, it was the reason he wasn't a corpse rotting with countless nameless thieves at that moment.

"Uh, what beast?" Came the Hobbit's voice.

So the Wizard really hadn't told him anything, and Nori wasn't sure if the rest of the Company could tell. As far as everyone here was concerned, Baggins had already agreed to be their Burglar and just needed to sign the contract for formality's sake.

When Bofur leaned forwards, pipe in hand and with a particular glint in his eye, Nori grew even more curious. He knew that glint.
"That would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible... Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather. Teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks - Extremely fond of precious metals," his expression didn't match the bright way he spoke about the dragon. Bofur's apparent oblivious scaring of the Hobbit and cheerful manner didn't reach his eyes; still glinting and serious with a stony intelligence Nori didn't just recognize, but knew like he knew himself. Bofur was assessing the Hobbit, which meant Nori wasn't the only one who had picked up on how unaware Baggins was of the Quest.

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," snapped their host, and his fidgeting betrayed his anxiety. Nori tried to his smile at Bofur when Ori suddenly jumped up in his chair.

"I'm not afraid. I'm up for it!" he exclaimed, and when Nori turned to look at him, he found Dori still sat between them, glaring at him as if to say "What have you been teaching him?"
"I'll give him a taste of Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!"
Dori's look of horror was melted with one of disgust and a promise of "we'll talk about this later..."

"Good lad, Ori!" Fili yelled, and Nori ignored their older brother in favour of grinning at Ori as well.

"Sit down...!" Dori growled, pulling him back to his chair. Ori looked frustrated at being berated and huffed a bit until he met Nori's eyes and smiled back at him. It warmed his heart, and Nori - still trying not to laugh - was glad to see his baby brother look proud of himself.

Dori was huffing, and looking towards Balin of all people for support, who held his gaze for a while as he spoke. "The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us...but we number just fourteen," The rowdy Company immediately settled down, and Nori found himself getting royally pissed off with Dwalin's brother.

"And not fourteen of the best..." he was looking around now, and Nori could practically see him raising his eyebrows as he spoke to Thorin, "Nor brightest,"

"'Here, who are you calling dim?!!" Nori snarled, hot offense burning his ears. How fucking dare Balin?! His good mood had immediately soured at the son of Fundin's words.
Dori had probably told him all sorts of bullshit about his reputation and past. Dwalin too - he would bet money on it. They had no right - they hardly knew him at all now. They of all people had no right to judge him. How dare -

"We may be few in number... but we're fighters! All of us - to the last Dwarf," The unrest at the table died as another Durin spoke; and Nori immediately felt calmer when Fíli piped up. The lad was shining with determination, looking almost identical to the boy Nori had known him to be so many decades ago now. It wasn't that much different if he squinted - Kíli still at Fíli's side, determined expressions and sparkling eyes… they looked just like they had as pebbles.

"And you forget - we have a Wizard in our company!" the youngest of Dis' sons exclaimed brightly,
"Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time,"

"Oh, well, no. I wouldn't say..."

Dori cut the Wizard off "How many, then?"

"What?" Tharkûn spluttered.

"Well, how many dragons have you killed?" The way the oldest Ri brother spoke suggested he knew for a fact the Wizard hadn't faced a Dragon before.

"Go on. Give us a number!" Dori roared over the yelling of the company as the room exploded. Nori himself snarled as Dwalin stood suddenly to join the arguments. What curses he yelled were lost in the fury of the Company's bristling and rage. He wouldn't remember what was said in that moment.
They were all silenced when Thorin barked an order for them to shut up in Khuzdul. Faces flushed, Dwarrow slowly sunk back into their chairs and realized the tensions in this room couldn't follow them on their Quest when they left.

"If we have read these signs..." Thorin told them and sobering them, "do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon, Smaug, has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to The Mountain, assessing... wondering, weighing the risk... Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?!" The rallying cry of "Du Bekar!" tied up his speech, and the Company all felt a familiar fierce loyalty fall over them. Nori was not unaffected by how inspiring Thorin could be.

Balin took the newfound quiet as an opportunity to point out there was no way into the Mountain, a somber comment rattled the group a little. Was there really any chance of success with fourteen Dwarrow against such perilous odds?

The silence drew out, until at last Tharkun spoke up, pulling an aged key - Dwarvish - royal - from his shining grey robes.

"How come you by this?" Thorin murmured, awestruck, emotional.

"It was given to me by your father. By Thráin. For safekeeping..." The Wizard replied, "It is yours now." he twirled the key in his fingers as he passed it to the leader of the Company. Nori thought he sensed some sort of possessiveness in the old man's voice.

"If there is a key there must be a door!" Fili exclaimed, half hugging his little brother.

"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the Lower Halls,"

"There's another way in," Kili said softly, excited as a pebble, amazed this was really happening. He and Fili wore the brightest expressions of hope and awe.

"Well, if we can find it," Gandalf muttered," but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map... and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can-"

"Elves remember all old words," Stonemud spoke up for the first time since they had sat down. His long silver beard was wrapped deliberately around his shoulders. Nori paid him close attention for the first time that evening. His eyes were heavy in thought, features relaxed but wrinkled from years of experience. He always appeared to know more than he let on, and it was interesting to be so close to such a legend. He said nothing more as the silence fell, however, he slowly looked between everyone present, before settling on Thorin, as if challenging him to complain.
Everyone here knew that Stonemud had seen more of the world than most of the Longbeard clan - even more than the years of traveling after Erebor was stolen from them.
Stonemud was a mystery in himself, his motivations unclear, his history a secret. And yet here he was, supporting their Quest to take back their ancestral home... But here he was suggesting going to Elves for help.

The Wizard cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. "Yes, well, ah, Elves are - certainly - one option, yes,"

"Grey Wizard meant Elves. Easy," Stonemud stated, and the incredulous look the Wizard gave him was enough to satisfy Nori that Stonemud was correct. Gandalf had been planning on persuading the Company to go to tree-shaggers for help, he would've done it subtly, sure, as there was no way the Dwarrow would agree to such a dumb plan...

"We will not be asking the likes of them for aid," Thorin hissed at the Wizard.

"Yes, well," Abruptly moving on, Tharkûn said "The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth...and no small amount of courage. But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done,"

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