Bilbo awoke the next morning to a pounding headache and the charming sounds of TinTin being sick to his stomach.

Lovely.

When Bilbo finally cracked open his swollen and undoubtedly blood-shot eyes, he knew that the previous night must never be mentioned again. From what scarce and blurry memories he did have, the night bespoke only of foolishness and embarrassment.

Slowly trying to right his crumpled form from the mess of papers, upon which he'd apparently collapsed, Bilbo noticed immediately when his left arm was speared with a sharp lance of pain.

Oh please, Yavanna I beg you! He mentally implored, let it not be a tattoo!

With great trepidation, the young Hobbit peaked down at the painful limb and instantly wished it was such an inked souvenir of a foolish night.

In hindsight, that would certainly have been preferable to the mess of sticky, half-dried blood that was spread over his clothes, through the tea-towel 'bandage' and onto the piles of parchment beneath. "Oh!" the hobbit cried in fright. His hand hovered uncertainly above the towel for a moment for, despite his years, Bilbo had very little experience with first-aid. However, peeling back the fabric proved futile as his sleeve had dried to his skin. "Ow," Bilbo groaned loudly. In response, the gentle thump of hobbit feet staggeringly approached before a sallow TinTin entered. He looked rather green.

"Urgh, 'ello 'bo." He moaned, one hand cradling his head, eyes squinting. Upon setting his eyes on his cousin, however, his topaz eyes blew wide at the sight of Bilbo sat in a pile of bloodied paper, with crimson staining down his arm.

"Oh, bugger!" TinTin gulped, looking even sicker. "I hope I'm imagining this, Bilbo!" He scrambled closer, gently touching the blonde's arm before yanking back as if burned when the other cried out. "Sorry, sorry!" The older hobbit fluttered, "Come on, we need to bathe it or something!" He shouted before grabbing Bilbo's good arm and leading him to the nearest washroom before rushing over to fill the sink.

"This isn't working…" Bilbo examined his arm with a grimace. The water had immediately turned red and the cloth was still almost welded to Bilbo's skin. "Ahh, there's nothing for it, I'll have to bathe fully." The cousins both gazed at the deep red water.

-oOOOo-

One very red bath later, Bilbo and (a much more put-together) TinTin were sat at the kitchen table, Bilbo's first aid kit spread out before them.

The bath had revealed a long, deep slash from the back of Bilbo's thumb to his upper bicep. The two cousins (after gazing in horror for a few minutes before it had started to bleed again) had wrapped it as best as they could. They stared at it in disbelief for a few minutes longer.

Then they burst out laughing. They laughed and laughed and before Bilbo knew it, he was almost crying as he gripped his stomach.

"What happened last night?!" He burst out.

"We," TinTin giggled hysterically, "had a sword fight!"

What?!

"And you insisted that you could do a sword-toss-thingy-flip-thing and cut your arm!"

Swords? Oh Yavanna, TinTin must've seen my collection from his Father!

"-Then I think I fell off the table and hit my head as that's all I remember really-"

Well, there's hope then that anything I may have said doesn't matter anymore…!

"Well, except that I'm pretty sure we had all your good whiskey."

Bilbo paled in horror.

It was at that point that the morning did the impossible and got worse.

The doorbell rang.

-oOOOo-

"-of all the stupid things to do, Bilbo Baggins, a drunken sword fight must be one of the most idiotic! I have never been so disgusted in two young hobbits before in my life!" The dulcet tones of the Wife of the Thain rang through the smial with all the malice of the death knell.

"And you, Fortinbras Took the Second!" The lady howled in righteous fury, fists shook at her eldest son. "Future Thain, indeed! I have never been more ashamed in my life!"

Bilbo and TinTin sat like the scolded fauntlings they were before the Matriarch, her husband sporting a rare frown behind her.

"Skinny dipping in the brook!"

Crikey, that was news to the two bachelors.

"-Hobbits can't even swim you fools!" Dora continued to berate them. Apparently, their folly hadn't been restricted to Bag-end; according to Dora, they had run naked through the lanes after skinny dipping and ruined more than a few gardens with their drunken pillaging (mainly food).

This had never happened last time around. Bilbo couldn't actually remember if he'd gone to a party before the journey…

"You two are in such a state! Why Bilbo, I told that Big Man outside your door that you were unable for visitors- I cannot allow you to be seen in such a state, especially by some stranger!"

Bilbo choked on the inhale, TinTin slapping him soundly on the back.

"B-big folk? Here?" It can't be! This wasn't right, this had never happened!

Aunt Dora frowned in disapproval, both at the visitor and the interruption. Her toffee eyes glinted angrily as she glared at her once-favourite nephew (she wasn't feeling too generous right now) and nodded at him sharply. "I knew the two of you would be in a right state so I told him to come back another day." This time she frowned in thought, turning to look at Uncle Is as she continued; "He was old, and wore grey...the wandering wizard, I thought."

Bilbo stared at her in shock and dread.

This had never happened last time. Even…the day was wrong, the party - everything!

Bilbo fainted.

Unfortunately, an escape into the oblivion was off the table as, not a few moments later, the poor Baggins came to via a very sharp slap of a soaked flannel.

"Bilbo!" Dora growled. "I'm not through with you yet, lad!"

Well, so long as he was awake, he had to do something.

"Auntie Dora, please," he lunged forward and grasped her hands. "When did the stranger leave?"

Dora, astonished at Bilbo's mood change, found herself stuttering that it couldn't have been 10 minutes past, for she had sent him away directly before coming in.

In a leap, despite current sickness, Bilbo sprung from his seat like an arrow from the string, shooting into the entranceway, arm already through one hole of his jacket (the other was firmly wrapped in a sling). Without so much as a by-your-leave, the Baggins was out the door.

The three relatives left behind were thoroughly bewildered (Dora was more so in the region of annoyed, Is more along the lines of amused and TinTin was too busy trying not to be sick again).

Outside, Bilbo had run towards his nearest neighbour, valiantly ignoring how they pointedly scowled at their ravaged blackberry bushes. "Please, my good sir! In which direction did the grey Big Man go?"

The Hobbit, disinclined to linger talking and wanting Bilbo to go as quickly as possible, wasted no time in pointing down the lane, towards upper Hobbiton. "He's not long gone, only five minutes or so. Had to turn around his cart."

With a grateful smile and hasty nod, Bilbo was off again, leaving his scowling neighbour behind.

Well, there's another dent in my reputation, he thought fondly.

Bilbo was glad once more for his (comparatively pathetic) training regime around Bag-End. Running as fast as he could, stomach still rolling and arm arching, he mercifully caught sight of a pointy grey hat further on through the fields. Quickly leaping the fence beside him, he dashed through cornfields, consoling himself that at least this time he was sober and properly dressed.

The cut through did its job.

Bursting out of the tall sheaths of wheat, gulping air with one arm in a sling and grass all over his person, Bilbo was greeted by the sight of a surprised wizard.

In an attempt to reaffirm his dignity, Bilbo spoke as casually as possible,

"Gandalf the Wandering Wizard…I heard you were looking for me."

...

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