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Bilbo had sworn up, down, and sideways that hobbits didn’t have magic. Not even for special occasions. It just wasn’t the done thing. Frankly if you needed magic to help you do something then you probably shouldn’t be doing it to begin with. Gandalf’s fireworks were about as much magic as a hobbit would tolerate and they certainly didn’t produce any such thing on their own. Nope. No hobbit magic. Bilbo lied.
Bilbo hadn’t been kidding when he told Ori and Bofur that running off on an adventure would make him the least respectable hobbit in the Shire. And coming back with two dwarf ‘friends’ only made him down right suspicious. But Bilbo was still a Baggins and the grandson of Old Gerontius Took, so despite being a little odd now he still received an invitation to the Took’s midwinter gathering. And to Ori and Bofur’s surprise they were invited as well.
Before leaving for Tookland Bilbo had spread out his family tree, from both his mother and father’s side, and done his best to explain who everyone was, who they were likely to meet over the course of the week, and who they would be expected to know about. Ori went a bit cross-eyed, Bofur forgot nearly every name instantly, and what the two dwarfs took away was that hobbits did come from very large families, and that Bilbo was technically part of the closest thing the hobbits had to nobility.
So when the day came Bofur and Ori scrubbed up, put on their nicest clothes, tightened up their braids and went to face down proper hobbit society. Even with Bilbo at his side Bofur would have preferred wargs to the sideways looks and whispers of matronly women in their holiday finest. Still Bofur smiled his most charming smile, and Ori looked his usual sweet, kind self, and after a few glasses of fine sweet cider Bofur was beginning to relax.
That was when he found himself ambushed by hobbit magic, the type Bilbo swore they didn’t have. It came in the form of ten very small hobbits, who asked if he was a dwarf (he was), did he braid his hair himself (he did), and did he know any stories. Before Bofur could even think to answer all ten tiny hobbits opened their eyes wide and stared right into him. With no other thought he sat and began telling the story of their cousin Bilbo bravely outsmarting trolls who were debating how to best cook dwarf.
When that story finished the children asked for another, their eyes still wide, pinning him to his seat. Several stories and a many hours later Bofur found himself snapped harshly into the world as if from a trance as grown hobbits arrived to collect the children thanking him for keeping them amused. The children turned their wide eyed spell on their parents, the smallest even trying a tiny lip quiver that caused Bofur to briefly contemplate hobbitnapping. The grown hobbits however seemed completely immune to this fiendish spell work and simply scooped up the small ones announcing that it was time for bed.
Bofur looked franticly around the great hall until his eyes fell on Bilbo who was giving him a strange little smile over a cup of cider. He made a note to be wary of hobbit children in groups for they obviously possess keen powers of mind control, and to not believe Bilbo again when he says things like hobbits have no magic.