"Is Dwalin still attempting to lift the cursed thing?" Balin sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. As much as he appreciated the stubbornness and determination of Dwarves and the obstinate willpower of his own brother, this was certainly a time where Balin wished Dwalin would simply give it up.

"Yes," Nori replied lazily, for once deciding to go with complete honesty. Still, it was actually entertaining to watch the giant Dwarf sweating and swearing up a storm, with a face as red as an apple and yanking hard on the wooden handle to no avail.

Balin sighed before casting a glare at Gandalf who was observing Thorin, Dwalin, and Dori, all of them trying their best to lift the exquisite weapon from the center of the deep and blackened crater.

"Could you not have lied when the Princes asked if it was a special hammer?"

Gandalf returned easily, blowing a puff of smoke that formed into a slithering snake, "And could you and the rest of the Company simply have just continued on the journey to Erebor without deciding to investigate the explosion?"

Balin, much to his irritation, had to admit that the wizard had a point.

Damn him.

Nothing on this quest to reclaim Erebor would ever be so straightforward and simple at this rate.

It wasn't enough that there was apparently a very tempting bounty on Thorin's head by numerous Orcs and countless enemies that were pursuing them at every turn and close behind their tracks.

It wasn't enough that they were very nearly eaten by Trolls last night, bundled unceremoniously into sacks and nearly skinned and roasted over s cooking spit.

And it wasn't even enough that they were only a Company of fourteen, with no other help or allies nearby, on a suicidal mission to reclaim the old Dwarven kingdom from a dragon that has destroyed and decimated Dale and Erebor in a single day.

No, there just had to be an explosion due to a falling star from the heavens last night.

Less than fifty meters from their camping site.

Forceful and loud enough to awaken even Bombur (who had, for one time in the past, slept through a rockslide).

Upon daybreak, when Thorin and the Company decided to investigate, curious about a falling star, imagine their shock when in the middle of a roughly-formed and blackened basin, deep enough to reach over the top of Dwalin's head and wide enough to form a massive pond, was a single hammer.

Granted, the hammer was very exquisite and beautiful, tingling on the innermost feelings of desire within each of the Dwarves as they gazed on the weapon. The rectangular head of the mallet was a dark, polished metal, carved with intricate designs of a foreign language that not even Ori has ever seen before in any book. The handle was thick, wrapped expertly with sown leather straps and even had a loop of leather dangling at the end as a wrist-hold.

Yet, what was most astounding was that there wasn't even a scorch mark on the leather or a scuff mark on the metal cinderblock head, despite falling from the heavens and being at the epicenter of a colossal eruption.

When asked by Kíli and Fíli, Gandalf remarked that he could sense a powerful aura of magic and energy from the hammer, as if it fell from the stars itself.

Thorin, though already carrying the Elvish sword Orcrist, was absolutely enthralled by the weapon that fell from the sky and declared it to be the very hammer of Aulë himself, a sure sign that the Gods would bless the Company into succeeding in taking back their home.

Gandalf then stated that like many magical objects, the hammer would only be wielded by the one chosen worthy to wield it.

Upon retrospect, Balin should have realized why Gandalf smiled when he said that.

Because that was akin to saying "any Dwarf who could not lift the hammer should have Dwarf-hood and masculinity questioned and laughed at".

Which was why for the past two hours, Thorin and the Company have attempting to lift, budge, carry, and move the hammer in many ways that ended in sore fingers, stiff muscles, wrenched backs, and much, much cursing.

And yet despite all their efforts, the mysterious hammer did not even budge a fraction of an inch, cemented to the ground and as heavy as the Lonely Mountain itself.

Some, like Balin, Bombur and Óin, simply decided to accept that the hammer would not work for them after several attempts and were content to move on.

Others, such as Kíli and Fíli kept trying until they exhausted themselves, collapsing on the ground and needing several minutes to stop their dizzy spells and to catch their breath. Their yearning to be the one to wield a weapon of the Valar was just too much to resist giving in to the possibility of defeat.

Bofur yanked so hard at the handle that he pulled a muscle.

Losing his temper, Glóin kicked at the hammer head with his foot. Óin said that Glóin could thankfully still ride on his pony despite his broken toe.

Still, it seemed like the entire trial was never going to end.

Balin wondered if perhaps Mahal was not doing them a favor when he included his creations to be as stubborn as the stone they were born from.

"Maybe we should all try it again," suggested Bombur while Dwalin, Glóin, Fíli and Kíli all tried to do a group effort to simultaneously lift the hammer.

Bifur gave his brother a weary and exasperated look as he signed in Iglishmêk, "We have all tried. Many, many times. None of us can wield the strange weapon. It was not meant to be. And we're wasting time just sitting here. We do not know how far behind the Orcs are from our position."

"Well…" Ori began, and then seemed hesitant when everyone's attention (even Thorin's) turned to him before he forced himself to speak, "Not all of us. Master Baggins hasn't tried to lift the hammer."

Everyone's head turned to Bilbo who was absolutely stunned at being the center of attention.

Predictably, quite a few of the Dwarves scoffed at Ori's suggestion with some of their expressions and sneers being downright insulting. Bofur looked at Bilbo with a soft, non-judgmental look, but one could easily see that he wasn't entirely faithful. In the background, Dwalin derided with, "You have got to be joking!"

But it was Thorin's remark that stung Bilbo the most as he said with disapproval, "No. The Hobbit could hurt himself."

Bilbo frowned. Wasn't it enough to prove he was not a burden after how he distracted the trolls yesterday?

Huffing and now burning with annoyance, Bilbo started to walk towards the crater. Alarmed, though he had absolutely no idea why he acted this way, Thorin immediately got into Bilbo's path, stern and commanding.

"Halfling, stop and save yourself the embarrassment."

"You…you…"

Furious and red-faced, Bilbo was unable to finish the sentence as he side-stepped and circumvented Thorin. Stomping over to the hammer, stumbling a bit on the jagged formations of the crater as he climbed down, Bilbo made his way towards the mystical hammer in the center. Thorin sputtered agitatedly in the background.

"Stubborn Halfling! Do not come wallowing to the Company for pity for your imminent failure!"

"Nicely done, Thorin."

"I was merely trying to spare him!" Thorin snapped at Balin's deadpanned sentence.

Kíli and Fíli looked a little hesitant as Bilbo approached. Glóin looked cranky, not even bothering to look up as he massaged his sore fingers. However, it was Dwalin who was the most ungracious as he mockingly made a bow and gestured to the hammer with his hands.

"Go ahead, Burglar," the Dwarf sneered, "I could use the laugh."

Bilbo bit his tongue and knelt down, grasping the handle and expected fail and be unable to move it like the others of the Company. Still, a small part of Bilbo had the vindictive thought of how it would serve Dwalin right if he did -

The sudden momentum took Bilbo completely by surprise as the Hobbit raised the hammer off the ground and over his head, the effort nearly throwing the poor burglar off balance. Stumbling and caterwauling a bit, Bilbo yelped and failed around a bit as he regained his balance. Blinking and unable to breathe for a few moments, Bilbo stared dumbly at the magical hammer of Aulë resting in his palms, slightly vibrating and sending a tingling sensation of power throughout his body.

"What?" Nori and Dori both gasped.

"WHAT?!" roared Glóin in a cheated manner.

Both Kíli and Fíli let out soft squeaks of disbelief from their throats, similar to the sound of a mouse being strangled.

Dwalin's face turned a brilliant shade of red, his eyes bloodshot and bulging out.

"Of course…" Balin sighed, rubbing his eyes.

All the other Dwarves in the Company had their jaws drop in the complete shock.

Bilbo just looked back at the Company in a stupefied manner.

Gandalf just puffed merrily away at his pipe.

There were actually ten seconds of stunned silence before the protests from Dwalin began.

"Impossible!" Dwalin shouted, striding towards Bilbo before rudely snatching the hammer from Bilbo's hands, "There is no – urk!"

The instant the weapon left Bilbo's fingers, the hammer suddenly dropped to the ground solidly. With Dwalin's fingers still clenched around the handle.

As a result, the guard captain was violently jerked downwards before he crashed, face-first, to the ground, his arm now dislocated due to the sudden pull of the hammer's weight.

All the other Dwarves clamored around to help Dwalin as Bilbo, his hand shaking, tentatively and gently grasped the handle of the hammer before carefully lifting it up.

"It…it feels as light as a feather for me," Bilbo said honestly, confused.

Dwalin started muttering unintelligible (and unprintable) swear words as Óin popped his arm back into place. Indeed, a good number of the other Dwarves around Bilbo started grumbling at the unfairness of the situation, feeling swindled. Still, some such as Ori and Bofur were smiling, actually nodding their congratulations to their friend and truly happy for the Hobbit.

Thorin expected to feel a headache.

Thorin expected to feel shock, outrage, and insulted that Mahal's hammer would choose someone as a grocer to be worthy of wielding it.

Thorin expected to (Aulë forbid) feel lightheaded enough to topple over in a faint.

What Thorin didn't expect to feel was noticeable warmth in his face and chest as he quickly tried to suppress the observation that having Bilbo toting a mighty hammer and laughing in the midday sunlight was actually sort of attractive…

The first thing Bilbo and the other Dwarves realized was that with Bilbo carrying the hammer attached to his belt, he could not ride on his steed like the others in the Company. Apparently, even though it was as light as a feather for the Hobbit, the hammer's immotility was transferable. Minty cried out in pain and actually collapsed onto her side when Bilbo tried to mount her.

With that, Bilbo actually walked alongside the Company instead of riding on his pony, with Thorin harshly grumbling that Bilbo had better not dally and force the group to slow down. This was actually all right with the Hobbit as he enjoyed walking alongside the Company, taking in the sights and enjoying the feeling of dirt between his toes.

At first, Thorin was ready to accept the fact that Bilbo was the one chosen to wield the hammer.

Until Bilbo used it to smash a fallen tree that was blocking the road, splitting it neatly in half and allowing the ponies to walk through, unhindered. What was amazing was the fact that the trunk of the deadwood was enormous, almost as tall as Gandalf himself and would have taken even Dwalin days to chop through.

Bilbo's swing (upon Gandalf's suggestion), easily shattered it into kindling wood, and Bilbo didn't even appear the least bit tired from the exertion. In fact, he looked so shocked that he reduced a gigantic log into splinters so easily with just one blow that he comically fell backwards in surprise, landing on his rump, after the hit.

This didn't help the resentment brewing in a few of the Dwarves (Thorin especially).

And unfortunately, as the journey lingered late into the afternoon, storm clouds gathered and brought forth yet another torrential rainfall.

"Gandalf, please, are you sure you cannot do anything?!" whined Bombur, the rain pattering against his head so hard that water was running down in rivulets off his face. Indeed, the entire coalition of Dwarves were riding in an even worse bout of weather than the first rainstorm, and this brought forth a round of muttering, griping, and complaining that already set Thorin's teeth of edge.

Ori, who was riding close to Bilbo, couldn't help but pipe up in confusion, "Mister Baggins, why are you not…not…not wet?!"

This last part was blurted out in shock as everyone turned to see what Ori stated was indeed true. Almost unable to believe what they were seeing, Bilbo, despite walking in ponds and trudging on foot, did not even have a spot of water on his clothes, the fabric and his hair as dry as an autumn leaf. Gandalf tipped his hat to drain out some of the water from the brim before he guessed the answer.

"A magical hammer of Eru indeed. It appears the weapon is not only powerful, it protects its owner."

"Would be nice if it could protect the rest of us too," pointed out Fíli bad-naturedly, shivering and feeling his nose run.

"Wait. Let me try something, Fíli…" Bilbo said before he whispered a plea to the hammer, treating it like a sentient being (and actually giving it a soft rub on the metal block) before lifting the weapon over his head.

As it turned out, Bilbo could extend the hammer to protect all of them from the downpour, an invisible shield over them that gracefully buffeted the pattering water with a comfortable cloud of steam and heated air. Within minutes, all the Dwarves were soothingly dry and warm within the magical bubble. The entire company had absolutely no problems with travelling in bad weather after that, and all of the Company was thankful and praising Bilbo for being so dutiful and watchful of his new weapon of the gods.

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" howled Dwalin to the sky.

Well, most of them.

Bilbo blushed and tried to downplay his part, pointing out, "Oh, there's no need. The hammer actually listened to me as if…as if it was alive. So really, you should thank it for the help. I merely just asked it to protect us."

Needless to say, Thorin was incredibly irritated, which lingered throughout the day and actually percolated up to dinner time later that evening as he sat on a log, watching the Company set up camp. Thinking and thinking over and over how as the leader of the quest to reclaim Erebor, by all rights, the hammer should have been his.

Balin sensed Thorin's stormy mood and easily slid himself next to his King. The advisor tried to placate the leader by saying diplomatically, "Things never happen without a reason, Thorin. You cannot question Aulë's will and choice on who should receive his help and power, and Bilbo is as good as any Dwarf, loyal and with a willing heart to aid us, and it is fortunate that the mystical object is with us as opposed to one of our enemies. I have no doubt that Mahal's hammer will serve him well."

Thorin growled before he finally let loose of the injustice festering inside his boiling blood.

"Of course that blasted hammer would serve the Halfling well! The burglar's the weakest member of the Company who could actually use an exceptional blessing direct from the Gods themselves! It is the only way to be not considered a burden!"

"Thorin…" Balin chided, but now cutting loose, the Dwarf continued his rant, feeling better and better with each hurled complaint.

"It is incredibly galling to think that such a beautiful and powerful weapon of might would go to a soft weakling who never ventured outside his peaceful little Shire! Apparently, it is asking far too much of Mahal to give it to a warrior who is somewhat competent! As such, the gift is wasted on him! Wasted, I tell you!"

Several of the Dwarves were starting to look incredibly uncomfortable, but Thorin took no notice of them as Balin's tone got a wee bit more insistent.

"Thorin…"

"At least if it went to one of the other members of the Company, we would gladly use it to bring honor and glory to all Dwarves and show our proclamation as a formidable and worthy race! Instead, it goes to a soft, self-demeaning Halfling who treats the hammer like it was one of his doilies! It's absolutely sickening! By Aulë, the grocer would most likely use it to knock down walnuts from trees!"

"Chestnuts, actually…" Bilbo said softly from behind.

Balin rubbed the bridge of his nose as Thorin stiffly turned around to see Bilbo carrying a pile of nuts, gathered in his waistcoat as a makeshift apron, intending to roast them as an additional treat for the Company to eat with Bombur's stew. Bilbo, despite looking dejected, simply walked past Thorin, past all the other members of the Company who were watching the awkward scene with baited breath. Pretending that he wasn't affected by the awful diatribe, Bilbo handed the pile of chestnuts to Bombur so that they could be roasted in the fire.

Thorin was uncertain what exactly was he feeling as he tried to concoct some sort of justification, an excuse, an apology, something to soften what he just uttered.

Until Bilbo met his gaze and smiled sadly.

"It's all right, Thorin. You were simply speaking the truth."

With that, Bilbo abruptly turned around and walked away to the far side of the camp, away from Thorin.

Thorin was rendered speechless until he noticed Bofur glaring at him with absolute disgust from the sidelines before the hat-toting Dwarf immediately took after Bilbo in an effort to comfort the Hobbit.

Kíli then shook Thorin's shoulder, pleading.

"Uncle, please! Just apologize to Master Boggins! Tell him you did not mean it!"

Thorin became stern, his pride kicking in, stopping his nephew with one glare before he said in a dismissive tone, "There is no need to apologize for speaking the truth. A King can never be respected if he stoops to false platitudes. The burglar understands this, and so should you."

However, later that night, it was not lost on anyone in the Company that Thorin relieved Kíli and Fíli of watch duty and spent the whole evening grumbling and griping, arms crossed over his chest and his face stormy. And Bombur and Bifur both were a little worried at the daggers Thorin was glaring at Bofur as the miner slept near the fire with Bilbo snug in his arms in his bedroll.

"Ori!" screamed Dori as the Warg was about to pounce on the Dwarf scribe.

To his credit, despite whimpering, Ori aimed with his slingshot, but he was about as good as dead. Dwalin, Bifur, and Nori raced with their axes, spear, and knives in a futile attempt to save their comrade. Kíli, white in the face, was trying to hurriedly notch another arrow.

Just as the Warg was about to rip into Ori, Bilbo then rushed in front, putting himself between the savage beast and Ori. Without thinking, Bilbo grasped Aulë's hammer and swung at the Warg, hoping to knock it off course.

Instead, what happened was the Warg's body actually exploding into an outpouring of flesh, fur, and bone, a deluge of blood splattering down on Bilbo and Ori and simply drenching them in dripping red.

"Ori!" Dori gasped as he then grabbed his brother in a tight bear hug, not caring that his younger

Brother was covered in blood. Ori just clutched Dori tightly as the older brother began to cry in complete relief. Bifur just fondly rubbed Ori's hair and head. Dwalin let out the breath he had been holding in terror as Nori's shining eyes looked at Bilbo akin with respect and gratitude.

Some of the other Dwarves, such as Thorin and Bombur, were looking at Bilbo with a bit of apprehension. In fact, Gandalf himself was a little disturbed at how easily the Hobbit killed with Aulë's weapon (and as much as he tried to block out the notion, the thought also came to how easily Bilbo could kill all of them if he truly wanted too).

Thorin wondered if he was going to need to make clandestine plans to keep a close eye on Master Baggins.

"Bilbo, are you all right?" Bofur asked worriedly, not caring about anything else except about the well-being of his friend as he gently gripped Bilbo's shoulders.

Scratch that. Thorin was definitely going to make clandestine plans to keep a close eye on Master Baggins.

Bilbo just remained staring at the empty space where he killed the Warg, his eyes wide and his body as stiff as a post. His pupils were the only thing that were white and blank, standing out against the rest of his clothes, skin, and body which were all completely painted in red and bits of black fur.

"Laddie, are you all right?!" Bofur repeated more insistently, grasping the Hobbit's face gently with both hands and touching Bilbo's forehead with his own, "Bilbo, say something!"

Bilbo then did with an agonized wail.

"I HAVE WARG INNARDS ALL OVER ME!"

It was a calm night in Rivendell, with the entire Company taking advantage of the safety and sanctuary after fleeing the Warg scouts.

Well, most of them.

"Are you ready, Master Burglar?" Dwalin sneered as he expertly twirled his axes, Grasper and Keeper, in his hands, enjoying the shivering Hobbit who was slightly cowering with the majestic hammer held in front of his body in an awkward manner. The rest of the Company was lounging by on the outskirts, relaxing and watching the spectacle with keen interest.

Bilbo had absolutely no idea why he gave in to Dwalin's request to train with his new weapon. All right, granted, despite telling Dwalin "no" ten times in a row, it was hard to refuse when one steals your Elvish dessert and leads you on a chase that ends on a large, empty balcony in the sleeping quarters and declares that the training session has begun. And Dwalin then said that the only way he would relinquish Bilbo's serving of Lembas bread was to participate in mock-battle until Dwalin was satisfied.

Bilbo just hoped that Dwalin wanted to help him and not because Dwalin was still sore over not being the one to be chosen by the magical object.

"Brace your feet, shoulder width apart, and bend your knees," instructed Dwalin in a hard tone as he strolled around Bilbo in a circle like a cat with its prey, "Now, since the hammer is 'as light as a feather' as you claimed earlier…"

Bilbo gulped at the glint in Dwalin's beady eyes.

"You will learn to fight with the hammer with equal dexterity and agility in both your right and left hands separately as well as learning to block, parry, and swing in ways that are different from your…Elvish letter opener. First, let us see how well you can block attackers with your new weapon. I will come at you and attack. Your job is to deflect, not dodge, my swings with your hammer with one hand. Are you ready, Master Baggins?"

"Um…well…can I just go back to the hot baths with my dessert and - ?"

"Are you ready Mister Baggins?!" roared Dwalin, barking like a true military commander, and Bilbo let out a strangled, high-pitched squeak before he nodded, obediently holding the hammer out in front awkwardly with his right hand. With a smirk, Dwalin charged with Grasper and Keeper, aiming specifically at the metal hammer and hoping to easily knock it out of Bilbo's hands and disarm him. Not wanting to cause any damage to Dwalin like he did with the tree trunk earlier, Bilbo merely held out the hammer in front of his body and braced himself.

WHAM!

All the Dwarves watching felt their jaws drop a second time to the floor as Dwalin was flung backwards forcibly before crashing back-first against the far wall and collapsing into a heap on the floor. Bilbo was absolutely horrified.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Bilbo stammered, feeling shivers down his spine as a groaning Dwalin managed to throw his an incendiary and murderous look, "I just held it out! I didn't even swing! I did not want to hurt you! I'm so sorry!"

Rubbing his throbbing skull, Dwalin managed to keep his voice even with gritted teeth as he said, "No need to apologize, Burglar. You did well, and I merely...tripped."

He shot an evil eye that promised a bloody and painful end to the snickering Dwarves who clearly didn't buy the excuse. Bilbo thought it would be wise to not comment as he made a suggestion.

"Well, clearly, I'm getting the hang of the matter with my new weapon, so why not call it a night, give me my Lembas bread, and let us both retreat to bed and - "

Dwalin had a disturbing glint in his eye as he smiled vindictively, showing all of his teeth, as he exclaimed gleefully, "Oh no, no, no, no, Master Halfling! The training has only just begun! Now, hold the hammer with your left hand. This time, we will try to see how well you can anticipate your enemy's tactics!"

"But I might hurt you!" Bilbo pointed out, and by Yavanna, if Dwalin didn't give him a fiery glower right then and there that would have sent an Orc retreating in fear. Dwalin did his best to not let his annoyance turn him murderous as he barked out harshly.

"At arms, Burglar! Hold the blasted hammer out with your left hand and actually try to hit me this time! I want a swing, not a pretty, limp-wristed wave that only a wee babe could muster! You hear me, Halfling? I want you to swing at me like I'm Azog himself!"

"Uh…like this?" Bilbo asked meekly as he gave a half-hearted swing, only for Dwalin to duck and roll underneath the feeble attack, tucking neatly into a ball to somersault to a stop at Bilbo's rear. Grinning, Dwalin then aimed the butt of both his axes directly into the back of Bilbo's head, ready to knock his opponent unconscious.

WHAM!

Dwalin was once again sent flying, this time into a wooden table and its matching set of chairs, the exquisite furniture immediately splintering into kindling upon the impact of the Dwarf's heavy body crashing directly into it at astonishing speed.

"He asked for a swing," Fíli couldn't help but comment as Dwalin woozily tried to get his bearings. Bilbo in the meanwhile was murmuring apologies so quickly that one could scarcely understand him.

"It was an accident! I'm so sorry! Oh dear, do you want me to get one of the Elven healers? I can go run out and - !"

"Hardly necessary, Halfling!" Dwalin said in a light voice with a demented smile that did little to hide the malice underneath as he then requested, "Training isn't over yet, so do not try to squirm your way out of this one! I must admit that I am…pleased with your progress. Now, next lesson! I want you to try juggling the hammer between your right and left hands. There will come a time in battle where one arm may be injured or unusable, and as such, you need to not only be ambidextrous, but you need to be able to easily shift your weapon from one hand to another as swiftly and easily as you can blink."

"Like…this?" Bilbo grimaced as he tried to awkwardly toss the hammer from his left to right repeatedly, back and forth, as if he was juggling a rather hot tuber. Dwalin's eyes glinted.

"Yes, but you will have to practice if you wish to do it quickly, Master Baggins," the Dwarf drawled, circling ever so discreetly to Bilbo's right blind spot, "In a real fight, you need to do it with fluidity, nerves of stone and steel, and quickly so that you can defend yourself without being taken by – SURPRISE!"

Dwalin yelled this last word as he blitzed towards Bilbo unexpectedly, raising Grasper and Keeper over his head and ready to tackle and pin Bilbo to the floor. Shrieking, Bilbo grasped Aulë's hammer with both hands and made a sudden uppercut-motion in his panic.

WHAM!

The Dwarven audience managed to see the horrified and stunned look of disbelief on Dwalin's face as the hammer sent him flying over Bilbo's head.

Crash!

And through the marble railing of the balcony, leaving a gaping hole in the fancy stone-work.

Splash!

And down to the courtyard below.

"Oh dear!" Bilbo cried out, panicking, "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! I didn't mean to! Is Dwalin all right?!"

Kíli and Bombur peered out from over the cracked edge of the balcony bannister, with Kíli smiling in jest.

"It's all right, Mister Boggins! The fountain broke his fall!" Kíli declared. The sounds of splashing and chocked sputtering amid the Dwarvish cursing and threats in Khuzdul from below clearly meant that Dwalin was especially angry.

Bombur winced as he peered down and commented, "I daresay it is far appropriate that Dwalin's fall broke the fountain."

"…maybe the Elves won't notice?"

"The statue is missing its head and body."

"…maybe they won't notice?"

"…I see there is a reason Fíli was chosen to be the Heir to the throne."

"I bet you five gold coins that Dwalin will quit his vendetta with Bilbo after the tenth loss," Glóin offered Bifur, sensing a wonderful opportunity to add to his coin purse. The grizzled miner with the axe head in his skull signed back in Iglishmêk.

"I bet you ten gold pieces that he quits after twenty times."

Nori then popped up suddenly out of nowhere from their blind spots, startling both Glóin and Bifur as he joined in, "Bollocks to you both! I have twenty gold pieces that says that Dwalin doesn't stop until after the fiftieth time! Or if he loses an appendage!"

Glóin and Bifur nodded their agreement as the three Dwarves shook on the wager.

"Dori…" Ori whispered hesitantly to his brother, "Nori doesn't have twenty gold pieces."

The eldest Ri brother merely sipped his black tea, making no comment and clearly not wanting to get involved as a waterlogged and apoplectic Dwalin came blitzing through the entranceway from his furious and vengeful climb up the staircase.

"ONE MORE TIME!" the soaking-wet Dwarf warrior roared as he rushed towards a meek Bilbo once again.

It turned out that Dwalin did not stop attempting to win a single spar against Bilbo for a good fifty-two times.

And that was only because Dwalin had to concede defeat by default when Bilbo's weapon broke Grasper.

Nori eagerly counted the coin he made and didn't hesitate in rubbing his victory in Bifur and Glóin's faces for a good minute. Facing one corner of the room, Dwalin sat moodily with his arms hugging his knees close to his chest, griping and grumbling darkly (and secretly thinking thoughts of smothering Bilbo Baggins in his sleep) while Balin, Ori, and Óin tended to him. Bilbo sat on the floor on the opposite side of the room, contentedly munching on his Elvish dessert and licking honey off his fingers.

Balin said without much pity, "Brother, you should have quit while you still had a little pride left."

"Shut up," hissed Dwalin darkly as Óin neatly sets his wrist back in joint. Ori was assisting by cleaning the blood off with warm water and a piece of cloth, trying his best to cheer up the grizzled warrior.

"You should not be so downtrodden, Mister Dwalin. You do not need a magical hammer of Aulë to be any more of a brave, competent, and fierce soldier than you already are. And it was actually quite noble and considerate of you to try to give fighting lessons to Mister Baggins," the Dwarf scribe consoled.

Dwalin just offered a small grunt, but Dori, upon hearing this, couldn't help but raise a suspicious eyebrow at his younger brother's fawning. While sipping his tea. With his pinky finger extended.

Bilbo just concentrated on his Lembas bread, doing his best to pretend that he didn't notice that Thorin Oakenshield was staring darkly at his back, clearly pensive after viewing the spar.

"Is Dwalin still crying?" Dori couldn't help but tease maliciously from the background (earning a glare from Ori).

"I'm not crying!" snapped Dwalin before he griped, "…I'm sulking."

"He's crying," translated Nori, smirking as he deftly juggled a small knife between his fingers as he kept gleefully admiring how much money he made from the bet.

Dwalin made a mental note to grab Nori by the scruff of his neck and throw him off a cliff at the first chance he got in the near future.

After robbing him, of course.