T W O B R O T H E R S ' J O U R N E Y
CHAPTER ONE
Hobbits are weird
They felt the change immediately as they stepped off the Baranduin Road and crossed the border into the Shire. The road so far had gone through leagues of forest, cultivated fields and mile after mile of vast, grassy plains. Untamed lands, inhabited only by travelers at the occasional inn. That in itself was something new entirely to the dwarf brothers Fíli and Kíli, who knew little more of the world than what lay in the Blue Mountains where they were born and raised. But the Shire was different. Now the landscape rose and fell, but not at all like the mountain peaks around their home. Even in the deep darkness of night, these soft hills had a beautiful green and yellow glow about them. Huge trees with lush foliages created stunning patterns of light on the ground as the moon shone trough them. Fíli and Kíli were still far from the nearest town, but within the Shire every road was lit up by the warm glow of fires upon lampposts. Every now and then the flowing nature was interrupted by a door going directly into the hillside. Round they were, decorated with flowers and oil lamps, painted in a natural color pallet. The two traveling brothers made sure to check each and every one of these doors. They had been told that there'd be a mark on the door that belonged to their soon-to-be host. What that mark would look like, however, they did not know.
Thorin, their uncle and King, had told them the name of the creditable hobbit at who's house the company would meet. Mr Bilbo Baggins, as it were. Although the subject was at rest now, Fíli and Kíli had argued about pronunciation. Kíli was convinced that their uncle had said Mr. Boggins, and a bet had been placed between the two brothers when Fíli had opposed himself to this.
The first few miles of the Shire were inhabited by farmers alone. Pigs and sheep and cows all stood asleep in their pens, soft lights glowing in the windows to their master's underground homesteads. Fíli and Kíli had never seen anything like these little hobbit houses. They looked cosy and warm, and both brothers longed for the pleasure of a warm hearth and a hot meal.
Then they came to a crossroads, marked fittingly with Waymeet on a sign in the middle. On the same pole hung four more signs pointing down each road; South Farthing, Michel Delving, Rushock Bog and lastly Hobbiton.
"Any idea?" said Kíli.
"Not a clue," Fíli replied.
They looked about themselves for any other signs, as if it would help. They did not know where this Mr. Baggins or Boggins lived. They stood there for a while, debating which way to go, when a lone hobbit came pushing a wheelbarrow full of lettuce heads and pumpkins in front of him. When he passed by the two dwarves, he nodded politely their way.
"Good evening, gentlemen," the hobbit said, but did not stop.
Fíli and Kíli looked at each other to confirm they were thinking the same thing.
"Excuse me," Fíli said. The hobbit halted and turned to them. "You would not know where one Mr… hm, Baggins lives by any chance?"
"Oh yes, oh yes," the hobbit said, looking a bit puzzled. "He lives on the Hill, just outside Hobbiton. You won't miss it, and if you do, ask anyone. Everybody knows him!"
And with that, the hobbit nodded once more and continued down up the road toward South Farthing. And Fíli and Kíli started on the road that lead to Hobbiton, glad that they wouldn't have to guess their way from now on.
"Some burglar, if everyone knows where he lives," said Kíli. Fíli only laughed.
They had found the hobbit quite peculiar to say the least. Never before had they seen an actual hobbit, and knew about them only what had been said about this Mr. Baggins by their uncle. Dwarves were a short people, even though Kíli stood quite tall for one, but hobbits were smaller still.
"Did you see his feet?" Fíli asked.
Kíli smiled. "Yes! He didn't have any boots. And they were huge!"
"I wonder if they all have bare feet," Fíli said. "They must be loud when they have such heavy feet. How could any hobbit be a burglar?"
It was not long before countryside turned into town and the hobbit holes grew bigger and more numerous. There was not much movement around the homes, but darkness did not drive hobbits away from the taverns and markets. Some still had their stalls open for business, and not one inn or tavern was empty. The atmosphere was different from the towns in the Blue Mountains, even the towns inhabited mostly by men. Here the sounds of laughter and music were not disturbed by bar fights or loud bargaining in the market. The air held a constant scent of food that made Fíli and Kíli's mouths water. It was a peaceful place, the Shire.
Once more they had to ask for directions. This hobbit lady said that she'd seen another dwarf walking up to the Hill not too long ago. Another one from the company must have arrived, then. It seemed quite the unusual thing for dwarves to seek Mr. Baggins, as this hobbit looked as puzzled as the last one.
The Hill was an easy place to find — it was in fact nothing less than a large hill, with several round hobbit doors and small gardens to decorate it. Upon the highest ledge, in the unbroken light of the moon, lay the largest hobbit hole of them all. Fíli and Kíli climbed up the Hill and stared at the round, dark green door. A brass doorknob was placed in the exact center, and in the lower right corner was the mark. It was the Khuzdul rune for G, etched into the wood and glowing faintly in white.
Kíli looked to Fíli with a gleam in his eyes. "Let's get this party started."
There was a tassel hanging from the rim around the door. Kíli hesitated for but a second, suddenly nervous to meet such an esteemed burglar, then pulled the string. A little bell was heard from inside the house. Fíli came to stand next to him, sporting his proudest smile. Kíli tried to mimic the expression, but just then he heard steps inside the door and the doorknob turned. His smile vanished as the door swung inward. Behind it stood a hobbit with his hairy feet bare, a messy head of reddish-brown hair and dressed in a patchwork bathrobe. He eyed the two dwarves on his doorstep and sighed.
"Fíli," began the older brother.
"And Kíli," continued the younger. Then together they took a bow for the hobbit and said: "At your service."
When he stood back up, Kíli felt a little less nervous and smiled brightly. "You must be Mr. Boggins!"
The hobbit frowned at them. "No! You can't come in, you've come to the wrong house." Then he began closing the door in their faces.
Kíli was so taken aback that he shot his hand out and pushed the door back open. "What? Has it been canceled?" he asked.
"No one told us," Fíli continued over his brother's shoulder.
Now the hobbit looked like they were taking him for a fool. "No, nothing's been canceled."
"Oh, that's a relief!" Kíli grinned.
He pushed the door and the hobbit aside, expecting to be welcome in now that he was sure the meeting was not canceled. Fíli gave a nod to the hobbit, who stood dumbfounded by the wall, then followed Kíli inside. The place was indeed huge! The hallway was round like a tunnel, luxuriously decorated and furnished. The walls were a flowery yellow color, and everywhere doors funneled off to other, even bigger and more luxurious rooms. Kíli put his backpack down on the floor in the hallway, placed his quiver of arrows and bow in the hobbit's arms and went to take a look around. Fíli followed suit, relieving himself of his weapons and handing them over to the hobbit.
"Careful with these," he warned with a glint in his eye. "I just had them sharpened."
It was an impressive collection of daggers, small swords and mini axes that he carried around, if Fíli could say so himself. Even he had a hard time remembering where each and every one of them was placed on his body. He could not decipher if the hobbit looked impressed or horrified, but decided on impressed.
"It's nice, this place," Kíli said and turned up in the left-facing corridor. "Did you do it yourself?"
"No, it's been in the family for years," the hobbit explained, but Kíli had stopped listening. He was busy trying to get some dirt off his boot on a wooden box. "That's my mother's glory box! Can you please not do that?" the hobbit shrieked.
Another person came around the corner behind Kíli. "Fíli! Kíli!" the dwarf called. "Come on, give us a hand!"
It was Dwalin, Thorin's second in command and a good friend of their family. The tall, half bald dwarf put an arm around Kíli's shoulder and led him over to another room. Fíli followed close behind.
"Mr. Dwalin," Kíli greeted him.
It was a long time since the brothers had seen Dwalin, and they liked him very much. He had taught them everything they knew about axes and maces. When they were little, he'd sometimes taken then hunting, so they shared many happy memories together, and some less happy.
In the hobbit's dinning room waited another familiar face. It was Balin, Dwalin's older brother and trusted counselor of Thorin. "Let's shove this in the hallway, or we'll never get everyone in."
Fíli greeted Balin with a sincere smile and a pat on the arm, then got right to work. Together he, Kíli and Dwalin began carrying side tables and bigger chairs out into the corridor.
The hobbit did not look at all pleased. "Everyone? How many more are there?"
As if on cue, there came the sound of the doorbell. With a distressed look on his face and a sigh, the hobbit scurried off to open the door.
Kíli leaned over the table toward Fíli. "Weird creatures, hobbits," he said. Fíli shrugged and listened toward the front door.
"No, there's nobody home!" the hobbit ranted in the distance. Something heavy fell to the floor. "Go away and bother somebody else! There are enough…"
Fíli laughed a little. "Very weird," he agreed.
Suddenly there was a big commotion by the front door, with many voices calling out simultaneously. The others must have arrived, finally. Soon there was a lot of movement about the hobbit's home, and it was indeed the rest of the company. Some of them Fíli and Kíli knew from before, as close neighbors from the Blue Mountains like Bofur, or distant friends like Ori and his older brothers. Others were old friends of their uncle, like Gloin and Óin. The rest they knew only by name, as Thorin had told them the list of people who had answered his call when the quest was decided upon; Bofur's brother Bombur, their war-scarred cousin Bifur and, finally, the infamous wizard Gandalf.
Fíli looked around the crowd that had gathered, but nowhere he could see the dark hair or blue eyes of his uncle. "Where's Thorin?" he asked Kíli.
His younger brother looked around also, then shook his head. "He said he'd be here, so he'll be here."
The dwarves started coming in with food of all sorts and placing them on the dinner table. Fíli and Kíli figured they'd help. In the hallway Fíli ran straight into the hobbit again, who nearly fell backwards.
"Oh, excuse me," Fíli said and helped the hobbit regain his balance.
"Not to worry," the hobbit said, obviously very annoyed. He corrected his robe and walked away, but in the last second Kíli stopped him.
"Wait. You are Mr. Boggins, right?"
The hobbit looked around himself at the other dwarves, only half paying attention to Kíli. "Bilbo Baggins, yes. That's me, but…" He caught sight of Bifur, who could not speak a word of the common tongue, fiddling with a wine bottle in the dinning room and walked right over. "No! That's a very expensive wine, thank you…"
Kíli was left to stand next to his brother in the hallway, shame coloring his face. Fíli nudged him with his elbow, smiling with raised eyebrows. "Told you."
Kíli took a half-hearted swing at his older brother, who dodged it easily and playfully thrust Kíli's arm away. Then they got back to helping their friends fill the dinning room table with all kinds of goodies. There was pork and lamb and all kinds of pies. Cheese blocks lay uncut on the table in front of Bombur's self-assigned seat at the far end. Eggs and fruit shared the limited space left with beautiful red tomatos and bread. While Gandalf did his best at trying to count them all off, Fíli and Kíli moved a barrel of what they hoped was some good ale into the dinning room. When everyone was seated by the table, a tight fit on a good day, Fíli took it upon himself to fill everyone's cup.
It was a merry supper to say the least. Food was thrown across the table, ale was spilt everywhere and laughter rocked Mr. Baggins' home for long hours. The wizard Gandalf sat on the far end of the table, laughing along and sipping from his tiny glass of wine. Mr Baggins himself had taken to a small chair in the corner, looking quite downcast with but a slice of bread in his hand. Kíli noticed the hobbit, but his attention was soon misplaced. Fíli, as usual, ate too much and had to stop himself half-way through his second plate of meat, while Kíli continued to stuff his face as if there was no bottom to him.
"You're full already?" the younger said, eyeing his brother's untouched meat pie. Fíli rolled his eyes, scooped up the pie and threw it over to Kíli on the other side. Some of it ended up in his ale mug, but it did not matter much. Kíli cheered and chowed down the pie.
Washing up was easier said then done. The dwarves saw the mess they'd made and decided that it was only polite not to leave their gracious host with the work. However, the kitchen was not big enough for half-a-dozen dwarves, including the wide-breasted Bombur. it did not help either that Mr. Baggins was running around trying to direct everything to its proper place, confusing everyone in the process. When poor little Ori, who was the only one younger than Fíli and Kíli by a year or two, came asking Mr. Baggins what he should do with his plate, Fíli had an idea.
"Here you go, Ori, give it to me," he said and took the little plate from Ori's hand.
It was almost magical how Kíli was already standing down the hallway, hand in the air ready to catch the plate. He knew what Fíli was thinking, and winked to let his brother know. Fíli aimed and tossed the plate, to the utter horror of Mr. Baggins. Kíli caught the plate easily with his one free hand, smoking a short pipe in the other.
"Keep 'em coming!" Fíli called into the dinning room, where Dwalin quickly caught up on his idea. Very soon there were pates and glasses and cups flying through the air.
The hobbit was outraged. "Those are my mother's West Farthing crockery! They're over a hundred years old!"
Fíli did not listen to him, he was having too much fun. Suddenly Kíli stood upon the glory box in the hallway. Fíli realized that a very familiar beat was coming from the dinning room. He could see Nori and Gloin by the table, stamping and using forks and spoon as drumsticks upon glasses. Kíli opened his mouth in a wide smile, and Fíli knew exactly what was coming.
"Blunt the knives, bend the forks!" Kíli sang.
"Smash the bottles and burn the corks!" Fíli continued, not caring for perfect notes when the crockery was still flying.
Other dwarves joined into the song one by one. "Chip the glasses and crack the plates…"
It was a widely known song throughout the Blue Mountains, and the next line was on both Fíli and Kíli's lips: That's what Durin's mother hates! But other voices drowned them out with an alternate version of the song.
From the dinning room boomed Gloin and Bofur: "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
Fíli couldn't help but laugh — it was so perfect. Mr. Baggins himself looked about ready to fall over when Kíli nearly missed the next plate that Ori threw his way. But Kíli was agile. He somersaulted from the glory box, caught the plate before it could shatter on the mat and sent it flying to Bifur in the kitchen. Fíli joined him and they performed a jumping trick they'd done as kids for Ori, who looked most impressed.
Thorin, their uncle and King, had told them the name of the creditable hobbit at who's house the company would meet. Mr Bilbo Baggins, as it were. Although the subject was at rest now, Fíli and Kíli had argued about pronunciation. Kíli was convinced that their uncle had said Mr. Boggins, and a bet had been placed between the two brothers when Fíli had opposed himself to this.
The first few miles of the Shire were inhabited by farmers alone. Pigs and sheep and cows all stood asleep in their pens, soft lights glowing in the windows to their master's underground homesteads. Fíli and Kíli had never seen anything like these little hobbit houses. They looked cosy and warm, and both brothers longed for the pleasure of a warm hearth and a hot meal.
Then they came to a crossroads, marked fittingly with Waymeet on a sign in the middle. On the same pole hung four more signs pointing down each road; South Farthing, Michel Delving, Rushock Bog and lastly Hobbiton.
"Any idea?" said Kíli.
"Not a clue," Fíli replied.
They looked about themselves for any other signs, as if it would help. They did not know where this Mr. Baggins or Boggins lived. They stood there for a while, debating which way to go, when a lone hobbit came pushing a wheelbarrow full of lettuce heads and pumpkins in front of him. When he passed by the two dwarves, he nodded politely their way.
"Good evening, gentlemen," the hobbit said, but did not stop.
Fíli and Kíli looked at each other to confirm they were thinking the same thing.
"Excuse me," Fíli said. The hobbit halted and turned to them. "You would not know where one Mr… hm, Baggins lives by any chance?"
"Oh yes, oh yes," the hobbit said, looking a bit puzzled. "He lives on the Hill, just outside Hobbiton. You won't miss it, and if you do, ask anyone. Everybody knows him!"
And with that, the hobbit nodded once more and continued down up the road toward South Farthing. And Fíli and Kíli started on the road that lead to Hobbiton, glad that they wouldn't have to guess their way from now on.
"Some burglar, if everyone knows where he lives," said Kíli. Fíli only laughed.
They had found the hobbit quite peculiar to say the least. Never before had they seen an actual hobbit, and knew about them only what had been said about this Mr. Baggins by their uncle. Dwarves were a short people, even though Kíli stood quite tall for one, but hobbits were smaller still.
"Did you see his feet?" Fíli asked.
Kíli smiled. "Yes! He didn't have any boots. And they were huge!"
"I wonder if they all have bare feet," Fíli said. "They must be loud when they have such heavy feet. How could any hobbit be a burglar?"
It was not long before countryside turned into town and the hobbit holes grew bigger and more numerous. There was not much movement around the homes, but darkness did not drive hobbits away from the taverns and markets. Some still had their stalls open for business, and not one inn or tavern was empty. The atmosphere was different from the towns in the Blue Mountains, even the towns inhabited mostly by men. Here the sounds of laughter and music were not disturbed by bar fights or loud bargaining in the market. The air held a constant scent of food that made Fíli and Kíli's mouths water. It was a peaceful place, the Shire.
Once more they had to ask for directions. This hobbit lady said that she'd seen another dwarf walking up to the Hill not too long ago. Another one from the company must have arrived, then. It seemed quite the unusual thing for dwarves to seek Mr. Baggins, as this hobbit looked as puzzled as the last one.
The Hill was an easy place to find — it was in fact nothing less than a large hill, with several round hobbit doors and small gardens to decorate it. Upon the highest ledge, in the unbroken light of the moon, lay the largest hobbit hole of them all. Fíli and Kíli climbed up the Hill and stared at the round, dark green door. A brass doorknob was placed in the exact center, and in the lower right corner was the mark. It was the Khuzdul rune for G, etched into the wood and glowing faintly in white.
Kíli looked to Fíli with a gleam in his eyes. "Let's get this party started."
There was a tassel hanging from the rim around the door. Kíli hesitated for but a second, suddenly nervous to meet such an esteemed burglar, then pulled the string. A little bell was heard from inside the house. Fíli came to stand next to him, sporting his proudest smile. Kíli tried to mimic the expression, but just then he heard steps inside the door and the doorknob turned. His smile vanished as the door swung inward. Behind it stood a hobbit with his hairy feet bare, a messy head of reddish-brown hair and dressed in a patchwork bathrobe. He eyed the two dwarves on his doorstep and sighed.
"Fíli," began the older brother.
"And Kíli," continued the younger. Then together they took a bow for the hobbit and said: "At your service."
When he stood back up, Kíli felt a little less nervous and smiled brightly. "You must be Mr. Boggins!"
The hobbit frowned at them. "No! You can't come in, you've come to the wrong house." Then he began closing the door in their faces.
Kíli was so taken aback that he shot his hand out and pushed the door back open. "What? Has it been canceled?" he asked.
"No one told us," Fíli continued over his brother's shoulder.
Now the hobbit looked like they were taking him for a fool. "No, nothing's been canceled."
"Oh, that's a relief!" Kíli grinned.
He pushed the door and the hobbit aside, expecting to be welcome in now that he was sure the meeting was not canceled. Fíli gave a nod to the hobbit, who stood dumbfounded by the wall, then followed Kíli inside. The place was indeed huge! The hallway was round like a tunnel, luxuriously decorated and furnished. The walls were a flowery yellow color, and everywhere doors funneled off to other, even bigger and more luxurious rooms. Kíli put his backpack down on the floor in the hallway, placed his quiver of arrows and bow in the hobbit's arms and went to take a look around. Fíli followed suit, relieving himself of his weapons and handing them over to the hobbit.
"Careful with these," he warned with a glint in his eye. "I just had them sharpened."
It was an impressive collection of daggers, small swords and mini axes that he carried around, if Fíli could say so himself. Even he had a hard time remembering where each and every one of them was placed on his body. He could not decipher if the hobbit looked impressed or horrified, but decided on impressed.
"It's nice, this place," Kíli said and turned up in the left-facing corridor. "Did you do it yourself?"
"No, it's been in the family for years," the hobbit explained, but Kíli had stopped listening. He was busy trying to get some dirt off his boot on a wooden box. "That's my mother's glory box! Can you please not do that?" the hobbit shrieked.
Another person came around the corner behind Kíli. "Fíli! Kíli!" the dwarf called. "Come on, give us a hand!"
It was Dwalin, Thorin's second in command and a good friend of their family. The tall, half bald dwarf put an arm around Kíli's shoulder and led him over to another room. Fíli followed close behind.
"Mr. Dwalin," Kíli greeted him.
It was a long time since the brothers had seen Dwalin, and they liked him very much. He had taught them everything they knew about axes and maces. When they were little, he'd sometimes taken then hunting, so they shared many happy memories together, and some less happy.
In the hobbit's dinning room waited another familiar face. It was Balin, Dwalin's older brother and trusted counselor of Thorin. "Let's shove this in the hallway, or we'll never get everyone in."
Fíli greeted Balin with a sincere smile and a pat on the arm, then got right to work. Together he, Kíli and Dwalin began carrying side tables and bigger chairs out into the corridor.
The hobbit did not look at all pleased. "Everyone? How many more are there?"
As if on cue, there came the sound of the doorbell. With a distressed look on his face and a sigh, the hobbit scurried off to open the door.
Kíli leaned over the table toward Fíli. "Weird creatures, hobbits," he said. Fíli shrugged and listened toward the front door.
"No, there's nobody home!" the hobbit ranted in the distance. Something heavy fell to the floor. "Go away and bother somebody else! There are enough…"
Fíli laughed a little. "Very weird," he agreed.
Suddenly there was a big commotion by the front door, with many voices calling out simultaneously. The others must have arrived, finally. Soon there was a lot of movement about the hobbit's home, and it was indeed the rest of the company. Some of them Fíli and Kíli knew from before, as close neighbors from the Blue Mountains like Bofur, or distant friends like Ori and his older brothers. Others were old friends of their uncle, like Gloin and Óin. The rest they knew only by name, as Thorin had told them the list of people who had answered his call when the quest was decided upon; Bofur's brother Bombur, their war-scarred cousin Bifur and, finally, the infamous wizard Gandalf.
Fíli looked around the crowd that had gathered, but nowhere he could see the dark hair or blue eyes of his uncle. "Where's Thorin?" he asked Kíli.
His younger brother looked around also, then shook his head. "He said he'd be here, so he'll be here."
The dwarves started coming in with food of all sorts and placing them on the dinner table. Fíli and Kíli figured they'd help. In the hallway Fíli ran straight into the hobbit again, who nearly fell backwards.
"Oh, excuse me," Fíli said and helped the hobbit regain his balance.
"Not to worry," the hobbit said, obviously very annoyed. He corrected his robe and walked away, but in the last second Kíli stopped him.
"Wait. You are Mr. Boggins, right?"
The hobbit looked around himself at the other dwarves, only half paying attention to Kíli. "Bilbo Baggins, yes. That's me, but…" He caught sight of Bifur, who could not speak a word of the common tongue, fiddling with a wine bottle in the dinning room and walked right over. "No! That's a very expensive wine, thank you…"
Kíli was left to stand next to his brother in the hallway, shame coloring his face. Fíli nudged him with his elbow, smiling with raised eyebrows. "Told you."
Kíli took a half-hearted swing at his older brother, who dodged it easily and playfully thrust Kíli's arm away. Then they got back to helping their friends fill the dinning room table with all kinds of goodies. There was pork and lamb and all kinds of pies. Cheese blocks lay uncut on the table in front of Bombur's self-assigned seat at the far end. Eggs and fruit shared the limited space left with beautiful red tomatos and bread. While Gandalf did his best at trying to count them all off, Fíli and Kíli moved a barrel of what they hoped was some good ale into the dinning room. When everyone was seated by the table, a tight fit on a good day, Fíli took it upon himself to fill everyone's cup.
It was a merry supper to say the least. Food was thrown across the table, ale was spilt everywhere and laughter rocked Mr. Baggins' home for long hours. The wizard Gandalf sat on the far end of the table, laughing along and sipping from his tiny glass of wine. Mr Baggins himself had taken to a small chair in the corner, looking quite downcast with but a slice of bread in his hand. Kíli noticed the hobbit, but his attention was soon misplaced. Fíli, as usual, ate too much and had to stop himself half-way through his second plate of meat, while Kíli continued to stuff his face as if there was no bottom to him.
"You're full already?" the younger said, eyeing his brother's untouched meat pie. Fíli rolled his eyes, scooped up the pie and threw it over to Kíli on the other side. Some of it ended up in his ale mug, but it did not matter much. Kíli cheered and chowed down the pie.
Washing up was easier said then done. The dwarves saw the mess they'd made and decided that it was only polite not to leave their gracious host with the work. However, the kitchen was not big enough for half-a-dozen dwarves, including the wide-breasted Bombur. it did not help either that Mr. Baggins was running around trying to direct everything to its proper place, confusing everyone in the process. When poor little Ori, who was the only one younger than Fíli and Kíli by a year or two, came asking Mr. Baggins what he should do with his plate, Fíli had an idea.
"Here you go, Ori, give it to me," he said and took the little plate from Ori's hand.
It was almost magical how Kíli was already standing down the hallway, hand in the air ready to catch the plate. He knew what Fíli was thinking, and winked to let his brother know. Fíli aimed and tossed the plate, to the utter horror of Mr. Baggins. Kíli caught the plate easily with his one free hand, smoking a short pipe in the other.
"Keep 'em coming!" Fíli called into the dinning room, where Dwalin quickly caught up on his idea. Very soon there were pates and glasses and cups flying through the air.
The hobbit was outraged. "Those are my mother's West Farthing crockery! They're over a hundred years old!"
Fíli did not listen to him, he was having too much fun. Suddenly Kíli stood upon the glory box in the hallway. Fíli realized that a very familiar beat was coming from the dinning room. He could see Nori and Gloin by the table, stamping and using forks and spoon as drumsticks upon glasses. Kíli opened his mouth in a wide smile, and Fíli knew exactly what was coming.
"Blunt the knives, bend the forks!" Kíli sang.
"Smash the bottles and burn the corks!" Fíli continued, not caring for perfect notes when the crockery was still flying.
Other dwarves joined into the song one by one. "Chip the glasses and crack the plates…"
It was a widely known song throughout the Blue Mountains, and the next line was on both Fíli and Kíli's lips: That's what Durin's mother hates! But other voices drowned them out with an alternate version of the song.
From the dinning room boomed Gloin and Bofur: "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
Fíli couldn't help but laugh — it was so perfect. Mr. Baggins himself looked about ready to fall over when Kíli nearly missed the next plate that Ori threw his way. But Kíli was agile. He somersaulted from the glory box, caught the plate before it could shatter on the mat and sent it flying to Bifur in the kitchen. Fíli joined him and they performed a jumping trick they'd done as kids for Ori, who looked most impressed.
Cut the cloth, tread on the fat!
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!
Pour the milk on the pantry floor
Splash the wine on every door!
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl!
Pound them up with a thumping pole!
When you're finished if any are whole
Send them down the hall to roll!
Fíli took a whiff from Kíli's pipe, then hurried to get his jug of ale before someone washed it up. The last of the dishes were done in a chaotic hurry to the sound of Bofur's beautiful whistle and Bombur's burping. Kíli helped pile the clean crockery up on the dinner table, not a single piece of it broken or cracked. It was so much fun messing with the hobbit, for he ran around like a headless chicken. When the final part of the song came, Fíli took a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
Right then, Mr. Baggins pushed his way passed his and stopped dead in his tracks, looking with amazement at the collection of un-chipped glasses and un-cracked plates. From the other side, Kíli stood and pointed his pipe at the awestruck hobbit, laughing loudly. Had Mr. Baggins really thought they'd break it all? What did he take them for — orcs?
In that moment, three loud knocks echoed through the hobbit's home. Every sound died down to silence, few daring to breathe as they looked toward the hallways. They were all thinking the same thing. Kíli sought his brother's gaze, and they shared the same thought: He made it!
Gandalf voiced their silent conversation: "He's here."