Chapter 2

*Yzma voice* I bet you weren't expecting THIS!

I apologise for how long this has taken. The original chapter 2 is now part of chapter 1, because they were both really short. Here is the new chapter 2...

A big thanks to MSU82 for helping me to finally get this posted.

There was a sparkle in those eyes, a liveliness that could not be mistaken.

Gandalf smiled.

He did believe he had found what he had been looking for.

Gandalf the Grey left Bag End a lot happier than he had been for some time. There was something about that hobbit that he had always liked.

He was quite odd, oh yes, that much was obvious, but experience had long taught him that all the best people were. He was convinced that there was a fine mind underlying that soft hobbit exterior and also what he suspected was a strong heart. Useful qualities, ones that would become invaluable if times grew hard.

Indeed, Mr Baggins had agreed to travel with them on their quest. Though in all honestly, the wizard would say it had felt rather more as if he had been requesting the company join Bilbo Baggins and not the other way round...

"An adventure you say?" The hobbit had busily puffed on his pipe as he set down his mail. "Why not! I left my diary free this year for something of the likes, afterall."

He leant forward with a gleam in his eye. "Pray tell, what kind of adventure did you have in mind?"

Hesitant as to whether to disclose their purpose so directly, both for secrecy's sake and for fear of scaring the hobbit off by saying too much to soon, the wizard took a moment to carefully pick his words.

"It would be with a company of dwarves." He said in the end.

The hobbit waited a while in expectation of something more and when he did not get it leant back with a frown.

"Ah!" He cleared his throat. "Well. As long as they don't spend too long braiding their beards every morning I don't suppose that should be a problem. They don't snore, do they?"

He paused a minute to take a puff of his pipe before prompting to wizard to go on. "And where are we going?"

"Oh! Far away over mountain peaks and river, further away from home than you have ever been before."

This was it. This was the moment Gandalf would expect a hobbit to rethink, even one that had appeared eager so far. As a general rule, Hobbits didn't stray from home - only exceeding rarely, more rarely still of their own accord.

The hobbit stared up at him unblinkingly and removed his pipe from his mouth.

"That," He said. "Narrows things down considerably."

He nodded to himself as he tucked his letters into his inner waistcoat pocket. "Thank you. I know all I need to know."

Gandalf spluttered indignantly at the hobbits' tone. He pointed his staff at the unperturbed halfling, who had the nerve to be chuckling. "You'd do well to hold some of that cheek, Bilbo Baggins!"

His moustache bristled.

"As for the final goal of our quest, I shall tell you," He drew his staff back to him and fussed with the arrangement of his cloak. "But only if you promise to tell no other! This is not news we want spread around to every ear in the land."

"Yes, yes, understood." The hobbit agreed, ceasing his chuckles to become straight faced once more. "I am hardly one for gossiping over the garden fence, Gandalf."

"My dear fellow, I wasn't suggesting such a thing! We are to head East, to the Lonely Mountain."

"The Lonely Mountain..." The hobbit echoed, testing the words on his tongue and humming for a bit in thought. "You underestimate the distance of my previous travels, my friend..."

Gandalf lifted his brow at that. Bilbo Baggins had been travelling before? That didn't surprise him given who his mother was, but to have gone as far or further a distance as the Lonely Mountain was from the Shire? Now that was something very interesting indeed if it was in fact truth. He filed the information away for later investigation.

The hobbit had meanwhile risen a critical eyebrow. "What business would you have there?"

The wizard went to open his mouth, but Bilbo Baggins continued. "A company of dwarves heading to the solitary peak, where lies desolation and the dragon that brought it..."

"The wealth of Erebor is legendary, my friend." The hobbit answered the wizard's surprise.

"Is this for gold?" He asked evenly. "For treasure? Wealth? Cold metal and shiny rocks with value higher than the bonds of friendship and kin?"

There was a strange emotion in the hobbit's eyes, as if he knew some ugly truth about the world he would have happily lived his whole life without knowing and indeed spent many a day pretending he didn't. He held, overall, the slight discomfort of one who had said more than they had intended to say. He was quick to place his pipe back in his mouth, as if it would defend him.

Well, that was a little disconcerting. The grey wizard felt there was something he should say, but the words eluded him. Instead he cleared his throat. "I believe it would be best to wait until the rest of the company is here before I tell you more."

The hobbit harrumphed, but was quick to leave it be and turned his gaze away. "At least say when we are to leave."

"Tomorrow."

The hobbit choked on his pipe.

"No doubt soon after dawn."

Bilbo Baggins looked up at him and blinked. "My dear fellow... You don't hang around much, do you?"

"Would you still be interested?"

"Yes." The hobbit looked affronted. He frowned. "Yes, of course."

He sat silently for a minute regarding the wizard and no doubt digesting everything he had been told.

"Bring your friends to dinner why don't you," He gestured vaguely with his pipe. "If we leave tomorrow at first light then I have a pantry that needs emptying."

He shook himself.

"Now you better be off!" The hobbit stood and straightened out his clothes. "Go and inform them. I myself have a lot of food to prepare and affairs to set in order and many other important things I need to do!"

And with that he was making for his front door, muttering all the way.

"You do leave it late to ask, don't you? Could have given me a day or two but ha! No no no, you expect me to just up and leave without so much as-! The nerve-! I completely forgot-" The grumbling was cut off by the click of the door closing behind his hairy feet.

Gandalf stood still a while in silence - it was a few minutes before he managed to pull his thoughts together.

Well...that went...well, he supposed. It seemed he had a burglar...

The wizard gathered his wits and cleared his throat, stooping down to open the hobbit's little garden gate. He made his way up to the perfectly round front door, the thought in his mind to leave a mark there so that his dwarvish companions could pick out the dwelling from all the others. Before he could do anything of the sorts, however, the door swung sharply open and he was faced with the hobbit once more.

"Ah! Don't you dare!"

The short being flapped his hands irritably like a large well-dressed bird. "I will not have you carving great holes in my door, it was painted just last week! I will take care of it. Off with you!"

The old wizard had never been shooed away in such a manner before in all his life, none had dared. But instead of the anger he could have easily directed at the strange little hobbit he felt a bubble of amusement and before he had really known what he was doing he was already off obeying his words. Off down the road he went, wondering how on middle-Earth the hobbit had guessed his intention, rather bemused but oddly content.

What a strange fellow.

He glanced back behind him and then up into the sky. He did not know exactly what he was in for, but there was obviously something more to Bilbo Baggins than met the eye. He was happy to go along with things for the time being.

He decided that he liked Bilbo Baggins. He was more puzzling than he had expected for sure and a great deal bolder, but he didn't feel untrustworthy or in any way ill-meaning.

He smiled and walked on a bit quicker. Dinner promised to be an interesting affair.

Bilbo grinned to himself as Gandalf walked away. Oh, how he had missed that meddlesome wizard.

It had been many years, many, many years since he had woken up with memories of a life already lived. Every day since he had been thankful for it - this surprise second go at things. He had cherished every minute...but he had long wished to see these particular old friends.

He had waited, oh! How long he had waited! He had travelled the world and done so much in his second life, but on none of his ventures had he encountered any of his dwarves or even the grey wizard (who normally managed to worm his way into everything adventurous one way or another)...but now at last the time had arrived!

He went about his business with a skip in his step. He would have a house full of dwarves soon. A house full of dirty, impolite, irritating dwarves. Bilbo let loose a joyful laugh. Wonderful!

...It was time to dwarf-proof the house.

Morning fast turned into midday, which then became afternoon and was quickly followed by evening. The finest rugs were rolled away, the larder made it's way to the kitchen and the best pottery was securely locked in a secret bunker underneath the halls.

Bilbo cooked, he cleaned, he made beds and moved furniture. He nailed a sign to the garden gate with a rolling pin because he'd lost his hammer. Then he had a cup of tea.

Following that he had the thought to retrieve some wine from the wine cellar, and it was a good thing he did-

"Laeniel! We wondered where you had gone!" Bilbo hauled the tipsy elf onto his feet. "Out, out! I have guests coming!"

The elf let out a small groan at the change in light before straightening, attempting to give a bow and fairwell but instead wobbling and settling for a solemn 'party hard' and left, swaying down the road.

Bilbo made a noise of exasperation and returned to his wine cellar. Only one bottle left. It would have to do.

Outside the light faded and Bilbo took it as his cue to scuttle down to his garden gate to light a lamp and toss the orc head skewered on the fence into a nearby plant pot. Filibert Bolger let out a squeak and hurried on along the road.

Bilbo let out a contented sigh. The house was clear and the last of the food to be prepared was bubbling away in the kitchen. For a while at least, his work was done.

The evening was clear and pleasant and the hobbit took a minute to breathe in the cool air as he patted his hands down on his breeches. All he had to do now was wait.

It was not long after dark that the first knock came at the door.

"Coming, coming." Bilbo bustled his way through his smial, taking the time to smooth down his best blue waistcoat with the shiny buttons. (He looked like quite the proper hobbit if he did say so himself. One had to at least begin with being proper - he was still a Baggins, afterall.)

He pulled open the door to find a familiar bald head on his doorstep.

Not just a bald head all on it's own, of course. There was a dwarf attached to it. However, Bilbo's memory for all it was currently, was foggy with faces from as many years ago as he had last seen these particular dwarves. In his defence, it had been over a hundred years and he had seen a great many faces in his time. If the main thing he remembered of Dwalin's appearance was the bald top of his head, well... at least he remembered something, right?

"Dwalin, at your service." The dwarf bowed, giving Bilbo a good view of that bald top of his head.

"Ah." Bilbo coughed and gave a slight bow of his own, longer than any he would normally give as he suddenly felt a very concious need to show off his own (very much full) head of hair.

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours." He straightened and stepped aside as Dwalin entered.

The dwarf took in his fancy waistcoat with its shiny buttons, noted his perfectly polished floors and the doormat that politely wished him welcome and looked a little too elvish to not be elvish and was quick to form an opinion. Unimpressive.

"I take it you found the place well enough?" The hobbit chatted away as he led the dwarf down the hall and into the dinning room.

"Yes."

"Good, good. Some folks from other parts get mighty confused - all the hills look the same, apparently." The hobbit rolled his eyes at the notion.

They entered the room where the food was set.

"Eat," Bilbo urged, herding the large dwarf into a chair. "I imagine you're hungry. Long trip?"

The dwarf blinked once at the food spread out before him like a feast for a king and did as he was told. "Oh -er, yes. Rather long."

Bilbo nodded understandingly as he busied himself arranging blocks of cheese into a tower of sorts in the middle of the table.

"This is good, this."

"Why, thank you." Why did he even have so much cheese? He couldn't remember.

Another knock sounded at the door. Balin, that would be, Bilbo vaguely recalled as he hurried off.

It was indeed.

"Balin, at your service."

The dwarf's beard looked awfully more fluffy than he had remembered. Bilbo wanted to touch it.

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours." He said instead. "Lovely evening, isn't it? Shame it might rain later. Do come in."

The old dwarf glanced back up at the sky as he entered. "Yes, I think it might..."

Balin and Dwalin were not bad company, not if one was accustomed to dwarves. They were pleased to see one another and after the customary greeting of attempting to give each other concussion, talked amongst themselves for the most part, leaving Bilbo to continue his bustling. Still, Dwalin grunted his thanks when he brought out the ale and Balin complimented his cheese tower.

It wasn't all that long before Bilbo was back at the door again.

"Fili."

"And Kili."

"At your service." The dwarves in front of him chorused and bowed with twin smiles on their glowing faces.

"You must be Mr Boggins!" Kili beamed.

"No, sorry. You must have the wrong house." Said Bilbo. He closed the door and went back to the kitchen to check on the soup.

He hummed as he stirred and the muffled banging on the front door went ignored.

"Who was that?" Dwalin question as he wandered in, hand wedged firmly in the cookie jar he had discovered on the mantle piece.

"Oh, some folks looking for a Mr Boggins." Bilbo chuckled as Balin joined them. "It's an easy enough mistake to make, I reckon. Baggins, Boggins, Baggins...but no Boggins has ever lived here!"

The banging on the door eventually drew to a stop, good riddance. There was a notable pause, then there came a very proper knock.

"Hmmm..." Bilbo straightened and put aside his ladle. He made his way to the door once again.

It swung open to the same two dwarves he had left on his doorstep.

"Oh! Misters Fili and Kili!" Bilbo exclaimed, face a picture of honest surprise.

"My good fellows," He started, expression slightly pained and a little bit worried at what he had to inform them. "I very much hate to tell you this, but I fear you have the wrong house again. You were at this very door not five minutes ago."

"We-"

"We realise that-" Kili muttered.

"We are here," Fili spoke over his brother. "On the business of a quest. The sign on your gate directed us here."

"Oh!" Bilbo's eyes widened, and a delighted smile began to bloom on his face.

"Oh, wonderful! Wonderful!" He cried joyfully and threw the door open wider. "Welcome!"

He stepped aside and beckoned them in.

"Bilbo Baggins is the name." He told them matter-of factly as he gestured they hand over their weapons and cloaks. "And I am so glad you decided to join us."

"I am sorry you didn't find Mr Boggins, whatever business you had with him, but I do believe you've made the right decision coming here instead!"

"Right!" He turned to them with a clap of his hands. "Food is in the dinning room, and Dwalin and Balin too I believe."

"You'll find it that way." He pointed down the hall. "I must get back to the kitchen before something burns, but shall be along in just a bit."

The brothers perked up at the mention of Dwalin and Balin and of food.

"Thank you, Mr Baggins!"

"Yes! Thank you!"

Bilbo shook his head as they headed for the dinning room. Had they looked so young the last time? He supposed they must have.

'Touch my mother's glory box and you're troll-meat.'

Kili gave a yelp, sending a wary looked back over his shoulder, but the hobbit was gone and the hallway empty. He hurried quickly after his brother.

"Coming!" Bilbo strolled down the hall and yanked open the door, stepping back before a rabble of dwarves fell on his feet.

"Bilbo Baggins at your services' good sirs, and Bilbo Baggins's doormat at that of any muddy boot you may possess." He finished his bow.

"Come in, come in! Leave your things in the hall, I have just finished setting the table. I hope you have good appetites because by time we leave tomorrow I don't want a single scrap to remain!"

Even if none of them were listening before he drew all eyes and ears at that. A murmur of approval went through the group as they de-tangled themselves. Really, it worked every time.

"Bofur, at your service." The first dwarf on his feet gave a bow with a dramatic sweep of his hat. "And this is Bombur-"

Bofur was swept aside and the dwarves began to file in with little bows, eager to get to the food and not at all bothered about hiding the fact.

"Gloin." Said Gloin.

"Oin." Said Oin, a little louder.

"Ori!"

"Dori. " - This particular dwarf shook his hand rather enthusiastically. Bilbo tried to shake with even more enthusiasm back.

Bifur greeted him in ancient dwarvish.

"Nori." The last dwarf bowed his way in and shrugged off his cloak.

"Pleasure!"

That just left Gandalf to stoop through. Bilbo closed the door behind him. Twelve down, one to go...

"The wine is in the kitchen, Gandalf," The hobbit directed the wizard down the hall as the noise coming from the dinning room began to rise. "Please, make yourself at home!"

Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, had been lost before, which meant his current predicament was not one strange or foreign to him.

He let out a long suffering sigh (after checking there was no one around to hear it).

So far he had not had a pleasant journey. First, there had been the let down of his meeting in the Iron Hills. He had not gotten lost on the way, surprisingly, but his request for aid had been turned down on his arrival. Bastards.

Then there had been the blasted business of the travel from the Iron Hills. (On which he had gotten lost. Very lost.) He had ended up without a path in some woods, gotten himself out to find he was at the exact place he had entered and had been chased by some demon of an animal across a farmer's field. If anyone had been around to see that he would have had to abdicate any claim to the throne of Erebor out of sheer shame. Thankfully they were not.

Right now he was somewhere in Hobbiton, of that at least he was reasonably certain because he had twice passed the sign declaring so. Unfortunately there were no signs directing him to the particular hobbit he was looking for.

The dwarf was therefore stuck wandering around in a seemingly random pattern that was, in actual fact, as random as it seemed. It was not a very good method, but it was one that after a considerable passing of time, paid off – He eventually found himself gazing at a round door that looked just like every other round door, except this one stood behind a little garden gate bearing a message to say this was the one he had been looking for.

Victorious as a mountain troll that had successfully counted to three, he pushed through the little garden gate and made his way up the little garden path.

He knocked loudly and waited and it was not long before the door swung open and he found himself faced with a wizard and what had to be the hobbit he had taken fit to recruit as their burglar.

"Gandalf." He could not say he was not a little relieved to see the old man, it had been an absolute nightmare getting to the hobbit's house.

"You told me this place would be easy to find." He stepped inside and shrugged off his coat. "I lost my way three times." It had been more of a constant state of lostness, actually, but no one needed to know that.

The wizard failed to show even the slightest bit of guilt. Thorin shook his head and cast his eye around. The rest of his company had all already arrived it seemed: they gathered off to the side, his nephews among them. No one appeared to be missing.

He lay his gaze on their host.

The hobbit was a soft looking creature, as he had expected – small, beardless, with a golden head of curls and two feet covered in them too. There was some muscle on him to be fair, but he was decidedly unwarrior-ish.

He had not wanted a hobbit in their company for exactly this reason. The helpless thing would probably get himself killed and Thorin would not be blamed for his death. No, the blame would be for Gandalf to shoulder. Hobbits were soft peaceful folk from what he knew of them: farmers and grocers and no fighters among them. He opened his mouth to say something of this, to once again show Gandalf his displeasure at the idea, but he was beaten to words.

"So," The hobbit spoke before he could say anything at all, looking him up and down with a critical eye as he circled.

"This is the dwarf."

I'll be back again, hopefully this time before 3 years have passed...

Thanks to ThisCatWhatDidThat for the elf name :)