Chapter Text
Bilbo hummed contentedly, the sun shining down around him. All was well. He would be lying if he said a small part of him did not long for adventure, a proper adventure, not the quick skirmishes he had while helping out the patrols, fighting the occasional wolf. He itched, under his skin, to see more of the world again. To have an adventure. Unbeknownst to anyone passing, he had several knifes concealed on his person; one strapped to each of his thighs, one hidden under his belt and several smaller throwing knives strapped underneath his shirt, and both him and his knives ached for something more fun, more dangerous.
A shadow fell across his face, causing him to open his eyes, a frown gathering on his face. But he quickly smiled at the wizard, who was watching him keenly, almost examining him with a light smile.
“Gandalf!” Bilbo cried, standing up from his bench. “Do you have news? Have you heard of my mother?”
The wizard inclined his head in greeting. “I have heard that she was stirring in the far north but that was not why I came, Master Baggins.”
Bilbo glared at him. “Absolutely NOT Gandalf. No, I will not hear of it. Do come in, you pestering wizard.” Bilbo opened his door, angrily gesturing the wizard in. “Tea? Or perhaps wine?” He managed to make his offer of hospitality seem vaguely insulting; the more traditional weapons of the hobbits were after all a quick tongue, a quicker with and the ability to hide insult as compliments.
Gandalf hummed in amusement. “I wouldn’t mind some of your good wine, Bilbo.”
Bilbo disappeared into his pantry, mumbling about stupid wizards, and stupid adventures, and cursing in several languages. Bilbo set down a glass of wine in front of the wizard, managing to refrain himself from tipping the wine over Gandalf and his twinkling eyes.
“Now, Bilbo,” Gandalf started, but Bilbo snorted.
“Don’t 'Now, Bilbo' me, Gandalf. Just because you are my godfather does not mean that I will follow you on quests and such.” Bilbo sipped on his own wine.
Gandalf nodded. “And that is why you are needed Bilbo.” He too sipped on his tea, offering no explanation.
“Gandalf!” Bilbo glared at him. “You insufferable Longshanks!” Bilbo proceeded to insult his godfather in multiple languages, some of which Gandalf had not heard for decades.
-You have been practising?- Gandalf asked, switching easily to Sindarin.
Bilbo huffed. -Of course I have.-
Gandalf simply smiled knowingly and stood, and, wishing his godson a good day, left in a swirl of a cloak out the door. Bilbo huffed again, and when Hamfast Gamgee popped in for elevenses a short while later, Bilbo was still muttering about the stupidity of wizards.
Night had fallen, and Bilbo was making his dinner when a hard knock on the door interrupted him. He grumbled slightly but shouted, “I’m coming.” He opened his door to reveal a dwarf, bulky and intimidating. If Bilbo had been a hobbit of faint heart, he might have been scared of the rather imposing dwarf, but Bilbo had dealt with dwarrows before.
“Dwalin, at your service.” The dwarf bowed, two war axes visible on his back.
“Come in,” Bilbo opened the door wider. He turned down the hall, heading for the kitchen. “Bilbo Baggins, at yours. Dining room’s through there,” he gestured through a doorway, “if you could take you cloak and shoes off, I’ll make you some food.”
Bilbo disappeared into the kitchen, returning to the dwarf a short while later with a lot of food. The dwarf nodded in thanks before helping himself, hungry from travelling. There was another knock at the door. This time there were two, younger dwarves.
“Fili, at your service,” said the blond, bowing like Dwalin.
“And Kili, at your service,” the brunette bowed as well, before grinning. “Nice to meet you, Mr Boggins.”
“It’s Baggins, but Bilbo will be fine.” Bilbo told them the same he had Dwalin, already cursing Gandalf in his mind.
Fili and Kili both grinned when they saw the food, and then again when they saw Dwalin.
Fili cried ~Dwalin!~ The dwarrow engaged in a conversation in their native tounge.
Bilbo, pretending not to know Khuzdul, retreated to the pantry. Most, if not all dwarves were not happy when an outsider knew their language. But, Bilbo mused, it was the same for Hobbits and Hobbitish. When yet another knock sounded, Bilbo gritted his teeth, not surprised when nine dwarves fell through accompanied by a certain wizard.
“Bifur, at your service.”
“Bombur, at your service.”
“Bofur, at your service.”
“Dori, at your service.”
“Nori, at your service.”
“Ori, at your service.”
“Oin, at your service.”
“Gloin, at your service.”
“Balin, at your service.”
Bilbo nodded at all of them in turn, introduced himself and told them to just call him Bilbo before ushering them through to the dining room, and turning to Gandalf.
“GANDALF!” Bilbo kicked his godfather’s shin. “I told you-“ Bilbo suddenly became aware that the dwarves, done with their greetings, were staring at him.
He switched to Sindarin easily. -Gandalf, I told you no! So why do I have twelve dwarves in my smial?-
Gandalf laughed easily. -My dear Bilbo, do not worry. Besides, it will soon be thirteen.-
Bilbo, shocked, forgot to speak in Sindarin, and being more used to Westron, started berating the wizard in it. “You no good stupid Longshanks! Why my mother ever named you my godfather I have no idea!”
“He’s your godfather?” A dwarf asked, Dwalin, Bilbo thought.
“You speak Elvish?” Another dwarf, Balin, wondered. Bilbo wondered whether they were related, and whether dwarves liked to rhyme family names, or just lacked the inspiration necessary for variation.
“Yes, this stupid wizard is my godfather, and yes, I speak Sinadrin!” Bilbo put emphasis on ‘Sindarin’, as that was the name elves preferred to use for their language.
The dwarves broke into conversation in Khuzdul, which Bilbo tried his level best to pretend he was not interested in.
“So where is this thirteenth?” Bilbo asked Gandalf, whose eyes were glinting much too brightly for Bilbo’s liking.
“He is merely late, Bilbo.” Gandalf moved to sit at the table, grabbing some bread. “He will join us shortly.”
Bilbo met the wizard’s eyes, as if searching for something to help him understand why twelve dwarves were ransacking his pantry, with another on the way. Gandalf said nothing, just watched as Bilbo huffed when his search revealed nothing.
“And why me?” Bilbo asked. “There are plenty of folk who would rather go on this adventure of yours.”
“Because I trust you more than any other, that is why,” Gandalf answered easily.
-Liar- Bilbo told him. -Gandalf, I know you are lying. That is not the real reason.-
-All will be explained, young hobbit.- Gandalf turned to continue eating.
-Don’t call me young, Gandalf, we both know I am anything but.- Bilbo contemplated briefly leaving through the back door and hiding in the woods for a decade, before deciding this might be viewed as slightly childish, and like he was sulking. Which he wasn't. Maybe a little. But he deserved to sulk.
"What should I do with my plate?" A young dwarf asked, Ori, Bilbo remembered.
"Uh, if you just-" Bilbo started but was cut off by Fili.
"Over here Ori," He grabbed the plate and tossed it over Bilbo's head, who let out an indignant squawk, not caring that he did not hear a smash. Soon dwarves were flinging cutlery, and, most outrageously, the china and porcelain. Bilbo dashed around his smial, yelling about stupid dwarrows and voicing his displeasure, to which the dwarrows found great amusent.
To Bilbo's horror, a tune was struck up as they started singing about what he hated, blunting the knives and whatnot. To be fair to them, they were good singers, and Bilbo wouldn't mind if they would just stop throwing the best china!
Kili was laughing loudly when he stepped on spilt ale, and despite his reflexes, fell backwards with a cry. The plate he was throwing slipped from his fingers, arching towards the floor.
Bilbo instinctively reached out, his senses heightening as time seemed to slow. He slid on his feet across the floor smoothly, and caught the plate before it hit the floor.
Dwalin watched as the stupid lad slipped backwards. The hobbit stiffened, and despite facing the other way, seemed to know what had happened. Before Dwalin could blink, the hobbit had slid across the floor and caught the plate with ease.
When the hobbit straightened, Dwalin swore he could see a flash of yellow in Master Baggins' eyes, but passed it off to the light. "Quick reflexes, Master Baggins."
The hobbit immediately straightened, a slightly worried expression on his face. "Thank you, Master Dwalin, and please, just Bilbo."
Before Dwalin could tell the hobbit to forget the 'master' for himself, the hobbit turned to the wizard and engaged him in a hushed conversation of Elvish, or as the halfling had called it, Sindarin.
-How much do they know about me, Gandalf?- Bilbo asked.
-They know you are a hobbit, of about 50. They consider that to be very young, but I have explained hobbits age differently to themselves. And, you are about 50, in hobbit years, yes?- Gandalf still seemed rather relaxed, despite Bilbo's agitations.
Bilbo huffed. -Yes yes. Now, fancy telling me what the adventure is yet? Or will you have me endure another china catastrophe?-
The wizard smiled amicably. -Just wait, Bilbo, wait. And are you to let the dwarves know that you understand every single word of their conversations in Khuzdul?-
Bilbo snorted. -I, contrary to whatever belief you hold, do not have a death wish.-
A sharp knock sounded at the door. Bilbo turned to open the door, aware of Gandalf and the dwarrow behind him. It al fell away as he opened the door, greetings frozen on his tongue as sharp blue eyes met hazel.
Bilbo felt both his hearts pang and heard the earth rumble. He was going to kill Gandalf.