Chapter Text
Looking back, Bilbo Baggins could say that he was once a perfectly respectable hobbit. Nothing untoward about him, despite being half Took.
The key word in that sentence… is ONCE.
That all changed about eighteen years ago.
Not that he would ever change anything of course.
With a soft smile on his face, he listened to the children playing off in the distance, the slightly out of tune flute playing, clearly heard over the hills.
Well, at least it was getting played.
He blew out a smoke ring and tapped his foot along to an imaginary beat. Maybe they were all dancing?
Maybe they were pretending to be elves again?
Who knew with fauntlings?
Before he could dwell on the matter further, a cloud of smoke hit his face, causing him to cough and splutter, opening his eyes to see an old man standing over him, dressed entirely in grey, with an equally grey beard and a pointed hats.
There was something about pointed hats that made him instantly suspicious, but he nodded at the odd man anyway.
“Good morning.”
The man frowned, “What do you mean?”
“I- “
“- Do you wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning, whether I want it or not?”
Seriously?
“Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on? Hm?”
Sometimes, it was best to put an end to these conversations before they could get out of hand…. Like when children got into the ‘why’ stage.
“All of them at once.”
“Hmmm.”
It might not have been the answer the man was expecting, but it was the one he was getting.
Sensing that he wouldn’t be getting a chance to finish his latest bedtime story anytime soon, he looked back up at the old man.
“Um, can I help you?”
“That remains to be seen. You see, I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”
“Of course, you are.” Bilbo sighed wearily, “Well, I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things… make you late for dinner.” He headed over to his letterbox, avoiding all eye contact as he shuffled through them.
Several looked like commission letters, so he would put them to one side.
“Besides, I am far too busy to even consider adventures.” He concluded, giving the man a nod, “Good morning, and I wish you the best of luck.”
He moved to head back indoors.
“To think that I should have lived to be ‘good morninged’ by Belladonna Took’s son as if I were selling buttons at the door!” The man sounded indignant, prompting Bilbo to turn back to him
“… Beg your pardon?”
“You’ve changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?!”
“Well, you know my name, although you don’t remember I belong to it. I’m Gandalf, and Gandalf means… me.”
“Gandalf.” Bilbo thought to himself for a few moments, before finally remembering where he’d heard the name, “Not Gandalf the Wandering Wizard? Who made such excellent fireworks? Old Took used to have them on Midsummer’s Eve!” He chuckled fondly at the memory, “I tried to get a hold of you for my wedding, but nobody could seem to find you. I thought that perhaps you’d…” He trailed off, clearing his throat and taking another puff of his pipe.
“… You thought what?” Gandalf shook his head, “Never mind, I rather think I know the answer… I hadn’t realised you’d gotten married.”
“Some sixteen years ago now.” Bilbo confirmed, “My husband is a toymaker, so unfortunately, I can’t introduce you to him right now.”
“… Perhaps I can return another time? I think I would like to meet the man who captured the heart of Belladonna Took’s son.”
Honestly, Gandalf made it sound like he thought Bilbo was destined to be a bachelor for the rest of his life.
“Suuuuure?” Bilbo answered, not feeling entirely sure as Gandalf gave him an amused look, “Tomorrow or- “
“- Tonight should suffice.”
“Tonight?! But- “
Gandalf was already walking away, disappearing around the corner before Bilbo could fully voice his protests.
Muttering out a very un-gentle-hobbit curse, Bilbo stormed back into the house to grab a jacket and some money.
He was going to need to stock up on food if Gandalf did insist on being rude.
…………………………………………………………
“Hello Mr Bilbo!” Mr Worrywort called out, pushing his cart in front of him, “Here, have a feel of me tubers. Nice and firm, they are. Just come in from West Farthing!”
“Very impressive Mr Worrywort.” Bilbo looked around, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my troublemakers have you?”
“Not since yesterday.” Mister Worrywort frowned, “Come to think of it, that’s mighty suspicious that.”
“What about wizards?”
“Tall? Long, gray beard, pointy hat?”
“Yes!”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Right… good.” Bilbo weakly smiled, “Good to know.”
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
He visited his husband to warn him of the upcoming guest (where he was reassured that everything would probably be fine), before heading back home with his basket of goodies, cooking the usual feast that’s required for a Bag End evening meal.
He didn’t notice the mark on the door, too consumed with worry.
The sun was just starting to set, and he expected everyone home soon when the first knock on the door echoed through the empty home.
“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” Bilbo wrapped his dressing gown around himself, “No need to bash on the door like that!”
He threw open the door, frowning at the sight of an unfamiliar dwarf standing there.
Bald, with tattoos across his bare skin, twin axes on his back.
Certainly not the sort of person Bilbo was expecting.
“Dwalin, at your service.”
“Bilbo Baggins at yours.” Bilbo returned the traditional greeting, before frowning in confusion, “Are you here for my husband? Because I’m afraid he’s not home yet and- “ he grunted the dwarf barrelled inside, eyes looking around.
“Which way laddie? Is it down here?”
“Is what down where?”
“Supper. He said there’d be food and lots of it.” Dwalin entered the dining room, lighting up at the sight of the spread.
Oh no, no, no.
Quick as a flash, Bilbo grabbed a wooden spoon, cracking it across Dwalin’s knuckles, making the dwarf yelp in pain, turning a vicious glare on the Hobbit.
“Stop right there!” Bilbo snapped, “I was not expecting you for dinner. In fact, the only people I am expecting is my family and a certain, meddling wizard, who I suspect is behind all this!”
The dwarf stared at him in amazement, only for someone else to knock on the door. Bilbo brandished his spoon threateningly at Dwalin, “Do. Not. Move… from that spot.”
Once he was sure that his point had been made, he moved to open it up, seeing another dwarf standing there. Shorter than the other one, with a long, white beard.
“Balin, at your service.” Balin bowed lowly.
“Yes… good evening.” Bilbo felt exhausted, “Related to Dwalin I assume.”
“I am, yes.” Balin looked delighted, “Is my brother already here? I thought I was late, but I was sure that he’d be later.”
“Well, he’s not.” Bilbo stated, “He’s in the dining room. The food is not to be touched as the meal I prepared was for my family. Exactly how many more surprise guests am I supposed to expect?”
Balin looked a little taken aback for a moment, before clearing his throat, “Around nine more, I shouldn’t wonder.”
“NINE?!”
Bilbo cursed mentally as his voice echoed throughout the home, hearing noises from the back of the house.
“Please.” He sighed, “Just… be patient, whilst I figure out what to make for over ten hungry dwarves and two fauntlings.”
The door knocked again.
Bilbo groaned, opening up the door and frowning at the sight of the two, clearly young dwarves standing there.
“Fili…”
“… and Kili.”
“At your service!” “At your service!”
This was all getting rather out of hand.
“You must be Mister Boggins!” The dark-haired one, Kili, stated, as they moved into the home, Fili dumping a ton of swords into Bilbo’s arms.
“Careful with these, I’ve just had them sharpened.”
“It’s nice this place…. Did you do it yourself?”
“Um… no, it’s been in the family for years.” Bilbo dumped the weapons on the ground, thankful that his husband was more conscientious about his own weapon, only to freeze when he saw one of them wiping their boots on his mother’s glory box.
“ALRIGHT, ENOUGH!”
The two young dwarves both jumped in alarm, as Bilbo stormed over to them and grabbed their ears, pulling them into the dining room, ignoring their cries of protests.
“Hey! Ye can’t do that to them!” Dwalin cried out, as the two were practically thrown into the room.
There was a further knocking on the door, which Bilbo rushed to answer, only to jump back when a crowd of dwarves fell onto his welcoming mat, Gandalf peering into the home behind them.
“Gan- “
“-AARRRRRRGGGHHHH!”
As his husband’s uncle burst out of the shadows, wielding a large axe, eyes demented as he stared at the ‘intruders’, Bilbo stared up at the ceiling, and wondered how this was his life.