"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…"
"Will you stop worrying so much, Bilbo? You'll wear out your floor if you go on like that."
"I've worn out my patience is what I have!"
"Oh please. Stop being such a worrywart. It'll just be a couple of dwarves over for dinner -"
"Dwarves I have not invited!"
"The symbol on your door would suggest otherwise."
"I didn't put it there!"
"They won't know that."
"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…"
Ben's loud laughter filled the low-slung hobbit hole as he rose from his chair and placed a hand on the hobbit's shoulder, finally bringing him to a halt until he looked at the young man with a deep sigh.
"Everything will turn out fine, Bilbo. It'll be good for you, you'll see. Profitable too, if you play your cards right." Ben said with a reassuring smile, though Bilbo merely stared at him with suspicious, narrowed eyes.
"That's what the wizard said. Almost word for word, in fact."
"Well, there you go. Two against one," said Ben. Bilbo could swear the man's eyes were twinkling.
"But… but, we're not prepared to host a bunch of dwarves!" Bilbo desperately pleaded, but still the young wizard did not seem overly worried.
"I'll have you know, the correct term is a 'gaggle' of dwarves. I think. Pretty sure most things can be qualified as a 'gaggle'. Besides, ofcourse you are prepared to host a gaggle of dwarves!"
"I am?"
"You're a hobbit: you are. Come!" And with that, Ben slung an arm around Bilbo's shoulders as he led him through one room after the next.
"Let's go down the list, shall we? Welcoming hall?" the young wizard asked as they stepped into Bilbo's hall.
It appeared freshly dusted (though Bilbo hadn't picked up a broom ever since Ben had fallen face-first into his garden and thus his life), the candles in the chandelier were all lit (yet not dripping wax somehow) and there were several good cloaks and sturdy walking sticks awaiting by the door.
"Yes, yes, I suppose everything is in order…" Bilbo stammered, but that was good enough for his companion.
"Check!" he called out, before whirling out of the room, Bilbo still attached to his side.
"Dining area?" he then questioned as they peeked into the next room.
The table was large and heavy set, its wood aged but properly cleaned. Various cabinets were stocked to the brim with silver cutlery and some of the finest porcelain in Westfarthing (much to the continued chagrin and envy of the Sackville-Bagginses) and all the chairs were straight-backed and solid, with fresh upholstery.
"Yes, yes, it's all very nice…" Bilbo agreed easily, already anticipating his companion's reaction by now as the young man at his side let out a large grin, his eyes glowing with mirth.
"Check!" he called out once more, before kicking open a nearby heavy door with the heel of his foot, whirling poor Bilbo inside.
"Pantry?" he asked, the mischievous glint in his eyes almost noticeable in the low lighting of the storeroom.
"Fully stocked and overflowing to the brim, asyou well know, Ben." Bilbo managed in a tone that was simultaneously defiant and defeated.
"Check!" the wizard called out once more, before almost physically lifting the young hobbit off his feet as he leapt towards the central room in the spacious smial, practically dumping Bilbo in the large chair his great-uncle used to nap in by the warmth of the hearth.
"Entertainment and relaxation area?" the wizard questioned as he snapped his fingers and the dry logs lying in the fireplace suddenly alighted with bright warm flames, filling the room with a pleasant glow.
"Aha! It is not 'check'! We haven't got enough seats!" Bilbo finally said in a triumphant tone, though he didn't jump to his feet as he otherwise would have.
It was a very comfortable chair after all.
For once, the wizard seemingly had the wind taken out of his sails as he rubbed his chin in thought.
"Hmmm… I suppose you are right. It would be hard to fully relax if one is forced to stand on two short legs after a long day of walking, and a longer evening still of drinking and eating."
Then Ben shrugged.
"And I suppose there's not much entertainment to be found in a hobbit hole, beyond said drinking and eating," he said, his tone the very picture of innocence if it weren't for the fact that Bilbo saw the young man's eyes peeking at him from underneath lowered eyelids.
Bilbo wanted to defend his people's honour (they were plenty entertaining! They loved telling stories and dancing while eating and drinking, after all) but as that would rather defeat his own point, he merely settled for nodding smugly as he sank deeper into the plush cushions of his lounge chair.
"Indeed! Quite boring folk we are! Oh, it's just dreadful! Obviously, we are not fit to host a gaggle of dwarves, no sir!"
"Well then… it's a good thing that I am no hobbit and thus prepared accordingly!" his friend suddenly called out with a grin as he leapt towards the seated Bilbo, who let out a brief yelp in surprise.
The young wizard grabbed a hold of the grand chair, taking it by its large back before with a flutter of his strange magic, he set the entire thing whirling around, the hobbit sitting inside included. By the time the world stopped spinning, Bilbo was shocked to find that his living room had somehow doubled in size without him noticing, extending far further than what could possibly be contained underneath the hill. The new space had been filled with large, comfortable looking couches made with dark woods and expensive looking leathers and stocky-looking plush chairs all cluttered around low-slung tables.
"Would you stop altering reality to redecorate my home!" Bilbo cried out in desperation, feeling a sympathetic hand descend on his shoulder as Ben leaned closer, his expression one of deep thought.
For a moment or two, they remained locked like that, before the young wizard nodded seriously to himself, glancing towards his shorter companion.
"No."
Refusing to look at that smug smile for a second longer, Bilbo let out a deep sigh, as he took in his new living room and the furniture that had suddenly appeared there.
The tables themselves were in most cases decorated with thick marble slabs or smoky looking glass plates, and on many of their tops stood game boards engraved that Bilbo didn't recognize, with various pieces cut from mahogany and ivory spread around them. On smaller side-tables, teetering on spindly legs made of precious metals like gold and silver, stood various glass bottles, decanters and glasses, the bottles containing an amber liquid.
"What's this?" Bilbo asked weakly, pointing to the bottles.
"This, my friend, is something straight from my homeland - Whiskey. And not just any old whiskey - the finest Scotch, produced in our own distilleries," Ben proudly declared.
"Right… nothing fancy then." Bilbo echoed weakly as he stood up and walked through his new living room.
He couldn't know it, but in style and grandeur it would be the equal of even the greatest Club lounges of any Victorian-era Society in history. Well, not Middle-Earth's history, but still.
"So… what is, uhm… what is this whiskey?" Bilbo tentatively asked as he took one of the new bottles, pulling off the heavy crystal stopper and taking a hesitant sniff of the swirling amber liquid.
Hmmm… it did smell quite nice, in all fairness. Perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea, Bilbo briefly thought, before he glanced at the young man standing in his living room with a massive grin on his face and he very succinctly and determinedly buried said thought in the deepest recesses of his mind, never to see the light of day again.
"You know what? I don't want to know." Bilbo resolutely said as he stoppered the bottle again and returned it to its little side-table, Ben's cheeky grin not lessened in the slightest.
Looking past the annoying wizard, Bilbo's eyes travelled across his renovated living room before they landed on a side chamber. It took a moment or two before Bilbo realized that he was looking at his old cloak closet, the little room now vastly expanded beyond all logical sense and hobbit sensibilities. Inside the darkened room, Bilbo could vaguely make out several large tables and what looked like oddly shaped cabinets. Ben moved to stand at his side and without a word clapped his hands, various lights in bright colours springing to life in Bilbo's former closet, illuminating a room unlike any other in all of Middle-Earth.
The tables had green felt covering their tops, on which there were several shapes displayed. Other tables had a similar green covering, but no symbols and they were surrounded by a thick band which had several holes in it, underneath which hung small nets. On the walls, there were circular shields in various parts black and white and with alternating red and green short little strips, with a red dot square in the centre. There were tables that were illuminated by lights on the inside, with what looked like a handle on the front.
"… what." Bilbo managed, and without turning to see, he knew Ben stood grinning like a loon beside him.
"Arcade and Game Room!" the wizard said with glee, as if that explained it, which (of course) it didn't.
"I see," Bilbo nonetheless muttered, giving the strange new room one last look, before resolutely turning his back on it as he moved towards the nearest 'whiskey' bottle, pouring himself a generous glass.
As he slammed the liquid back, a pleasant burn travelling down his throat, he tried to comfort himself with the thought that, for once, he would not be the only one to suffer from a wizard's strange sense of humour.
The dwarves were in for the visit of their lives.
[SCENE END]
Just before tea-time at Bag End in the Shire, there came a tremendous ring on the front-door bell. Bilbo hurried over, pulling the green door open, revealing that on the other side stood a dwarf with a blue beard tucked into a golden belt, and bright eyes under his dark-green hood. As soon as the door was opened, he unceremoniously got pulled inside by a surprisingly irate looking Bilbo.
"Right!" the hobbit called out, taking the dwarf's hooded cloak and hanging it from on the nearest peg (for even an angry hobbit strives to remain a polite hobbit).
The dwarf, having not yet actually been given the chance to offer said cloak, looked on rather bemused as the hobbit came to a halt in front of him, peering up at the taller dwarf with narrowed eyes.
"Dwalin, at your service-!" the dwarf tried, but the hobbit waved him off with a nervous fluttering of hands, before they settled on his hips.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure. Bilbo Baggins at yours and all that. Now then!"
And with that, he leaned forwards towards the surprised dwarf with narrowed eyes.
"How good are you at throwing tiny little arrows at a target?" Bilbo asked, causing interest to bloom in the dwarf's eyes as he thoughtfully stroked his blue beard.
—
Poor Dwalin had just cried out for the best seven out of eight in darts after Ben had won yet another leg by throwing three of the tiny arrows at once (with his eyes closed and his back turned towards the board) when there came another, even louder ring at the bell.
Leaving Dwalin and Ben to their game of throwing darts, Bilbo rushed to the front door, swinging it wide open, revealing a very old-looking dwarf on the step with a white beard and a scarlet hood. Before the dwarf had a chance to spring inside, Bilbo had already ushered him into the hall, practically stealing the aged dwarf's cloak right from his back as he hung it from a nearby peg, next to Dwalin's green cloak.
"I see they have begun to arrive already." The wizened dwarf said, upon seeing his friend's cloak.
"You're among the first, the other eleven shall be here before the night is done. Says Ben anyways," Bilbo merely replied in a fettered tone.
"Right… Balin, at your service!" the older dwarf said, trying to get things back to a sense of normalcy, but Bilbo was long past that.
"That depends."
"… I beg your pardon?"
"Do you know how to count cards? With the four of us, we should be able to play some of Ben's "Casino" games. I don't know where "Texas" lies, or what they're holding on to, but it sounds interesting. Or mildly safer at least. Much less danger of poking someone's eye out with a tiny arrow." The hobbit prattled on, taking Balin by the arm and leading him towards the outraged cries of Dwalin coming from the Arcade room.
"… I beg your pardon?"
—
"Read 'em and weep!"
"You dare, brother?! Roll up those sleeves of yours, where did you get those Aces?!"
"Dwalin my boy, you're two hundred years too early to accuse me of cheating at cards."
"What, because you don't cheat?"
"Because you wouldn't even notice if I did."
Balin's white beard shook with mirth while he dragged a pile of tokens towards him taller than his torso, when loud came a ring at the bell again, and then another ring. While the guests might not strictly speaking be his, since Gandalf had been the one to invite them, this was still his house and so Bilbo was again the one to rush to the door to greet the new visitor.
Or, visitors, as it turned out. Standing in front of his door stood two more dwarves, both with blue hoods, silver belts, and yellow beards; and each of them carried a bag of tools and a spade. In they hopped, as soon as the door began to open - Bilbo was hardly surprised at all.
That may have been the booze talking. That, or the desensitization that comes from having a wizard as a housemate.
"Kili at your service!" said one. "And Fili!" added the other; and they both swept off their blue hoods and bowed.
"Bilbo, at yours," Bilbo answered, the dwarves straightening up, only to fumble as the hobbit tossed something in their arms.
It was a lacquered stick, too thin to be a proper walking stick and too straight to be a nice cane, though the finish was impeccable. It tapered slightly towards one end, on which sat an oddly flat piece of a material they had never seen before, but which Bilbo had heard Ben call 'rubber'.
Tossing the brothers a piece of blue chalk, Bilbo turned on his heel as he stalked back towards the rest of the group.
"Rub that on your tips and come with me. It's no fun playing cards against Balin. So, we're going to play billiards!"
—
Fili once again broke the balls, leaning over the lowered billiards table and wielding his cue with expert skill as Kili stood by with a thunderous look on his face as he furiously rubbed the end of his stick with some chalk, the brothers having gotten competitive.
Off to the side, the other set of brothers, Dwalin and Balin, stood down a range which by all rights should have extended to somewhere in the middle of Bilbo's neighbour's kitchen, yet somehow still fit snugly inside the new room in Bag End.
Dwalin had stated he would never again sit down at a poker table with his older brother unless Balin conceded to removing all of the layers of cloths, leather and mail that dwarves call a shirt, playing bare-chested instead. It's hard to hide anything up your sleeves if you're not wearing any, Dwalin had slyly reasoned with a triumphant grin.
Said grin was quickly swept away when Balin's eyes gained a twinkle that could rival Ben's in sheer glee as he readily agreed, his great white beard twitching all the while. His younger brother had stared at him for a long silent moment, before throwing his hands up in disgust as he pushed away from the poker table.
When he had picked up the darts again and asked Ben if he had something bigger (and more cathartic) to throw at the target, the young wizard had merely smiled and given him a set of tomahawks and a range which definitely had not been there moments prior.
By then however, frustration and liquor had taken a great enough hold of the blue-bearded dwarf that he merely shrugged his shoulders, and began throwing axes, finally a sport he and his kin were familiar with.
Still chuckling, Balin left Bilbo and Ben to sit in quiet together as he joined his brother. While throwing axes, they talked about mines and gold and troubles with the goblins, and the depredations of dragons, and lots of other things which Bilbo did not understand, and did not want to, for they sounded much too adventurous - when, ding-dong-a-ling-dang, his bell rang again, as if some naughty little hobbit-boy was trying to pull the handle off.
"Impatient one, huh?"
"Four actually." Ben dryly responded without so much as looking, engrossed in building a tower of cards, the tip of his tongue out in concentration.
"Four?" Bilbo asked a little weakly, already reaching towards his glass of whiskey.
"He's right; we saw them coming along behind us in the distance." Fili answered, before with a crow of victory he downed another ball in the corner pocket.
Behind him, Kili was clearly wandering if he should take his cue to either the balls or his smug brother's head. Both were round, weren't they? Surely, there wasn't too much of a difference?
Shaking his head while puffing down his hall, Bilbo threw open his door and in tumbled what indeed could only be described as a 'gaggle' of dwarves, nearly stumbling over each other's feet as they pressed into Bilbo's home.
"Dori, at your service!"
"Bilbo, at yours."
"Nori, at your service!"
"Bilbo, at yours."
"Ori, at your service!"
"Again, Bilbo, at yours."
"Oin, at your service!"
"As you already know, Bilbo, at yours."
"Gloin, at your service!"
"Bilbo, up yours."