Chapter Text
Personally, Gandalf felt too old and too dignified to be herding a large group of dwarrow through The Shire. In fact, he was a hair width away from losing his mind and although he had not been a disciple of Melkor he could suddenly see the appeal for the first time in his long, long, (longer than he would ever admit even under the influence of Hamson Gamgee’s moonshine, which is the most potent drink he had ever encountered) existence. It wasn’t that he didn’t like dwarrow, it was quite the opposite in fact. As he used to be best friends with Curunír back in Valinor when they were young, Aulë was like Curunír’s cool father (with Yavanna being his kind and loving mother who Curunír somehow hated); and dwarrow were created in Aulë’s image so they brought back memories of less complicated times. (Gandalf, back when he only went by Olórin, once heard Rómestámo tell Morinehtar that Daddy Issues create people pleasers while Mommy Issues create psychopaths. He had no idea what they meant at the time, but well, look what happened to Mairon. He had issues with both, and he became eager to please his dad’s creepy ex-coworker and then tried to take over the world through extremely barbaric and insane ways.)
But maybe, just maybe, he could see where Mairon’s Daddy Issues stemmed from. Back then, he had only been in Aulë’s presence for maybe 3 hours at most; but now, he had been in continuous, non stop contact with dwarrow for 3 weeks. Even if the dwarves took after their Maker by only 25%, it was still too much. (The horror Gandalf felt even contemplating if their personality was 100% Aulë’s, well, Gandalf could always weep for himself and Aulë’s Maiar, even if Nienna would heavily disprove.) The worst part was that the most important dwarf wasn’t even there; when Gandalf had met up with the group on the outskirts of the Tower Hills, he had been succinctly informed that Thorin Oakenshield had left by himself to seek Dwarven Aid before he planned to meet them again at The Burglar’s house. Gandalf had only gotten through the trek by thinking about Belladonna, and wondering what that little faunt Bilbo grew up to be like.
Only for his expectations of Bilbo to be both dashed and exceeded. After leaving the dwarrow at The Green Dragon, with an excuse of “meeting the Burglar” to hide the real reason of a much-needed break, Gandalf took off to hopefully throw Bilbo off-kilter and raise his own spirits by doing so. Unfortunately, that didn't go as planned (as had much as this Quest so far, as well) so in a last ditch effort, Gandalf had crowded the 9 dwarrow he was in charge of in front of Bag End’s door, knocked, and planned to push them all in on top of Bilbo as soon as he answered.
“Good evening, you must be- THE VALAR CAN’T SAVE YOU FROM MY WRATH, GANDALF.” Bilbo yelled from underneath the mass pile of dwarrow he was buried under. He continued on shouting with “IF I JOIN WHATEVER HARE BRAINED SCHEME YOU’VE COME UP WITH, YOU BETTER- pardon me, Master Dwarf,- YOU BEST SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN!” A curly head popped through the edge of the pile of bodies, and a small body soon followed. (Gandalf thought he scuttled out from under the bodies much like a spider.) Bilbo huffed, and straightened his clothes. “Mark my words, Gandalf,” he said in a low voice while pointing a finger at the Wizard standing on his threshold, “my vengeance may not be swift, but it will come,” here, Bilbo dramatically narrowed his eyes in such a deadly glare that Gandalf started to worry, “but it will be deadly and justified.”
An uncomfortable silence followed that statement, only to be broken by Fíli’s voice. “You hear that, Kee? Not only will it be deadly, but it’ll be justified too.”
After the dwarrow had all been helped up, and quick introductions made, Bilbo herded everyone into his formal dining room. The fireplace had been previously lit, providing light and warmth. Bilbo removed the small kettle hanging over the fire, which had been filled with water, orange rinds, apple peels, cinnamon sticks and cloves to give the room a pleasant smell. A fresh white table cloth had been laid down, with bright clusters of lilacs, tulips and daffodils beautifully embroidered alongside it’s delicate scalloped edge. A stunning lace table runner ran down the middle, dyed a soft yellow. The centerpiece of arranged flowers and foliage did not go unnoticed, nor did the carved beeswax candles in their delicate ceramic holders, but the rest of the attention was stolen by the exquisite china they would be dining on. The bottommost plate of each stack was pure white with an almost unnoticeable scalloped edge. On top of that was a slightly smaller robin’s egg blue plate, with a thin white strip stamped with small flowers along the edge. The very topmost plate, though, was the eye catcher. With a border of filigree gold, the centre of the white plate was taken up by a fantastically (but not accurately) coloured peahen standing on a rock amongst foliage, plumes down. On the sides above her were a sunbird and liocichla.
“Please, sit wherever you want. Gandalf, your spot is on the end, against the far wall. As you settle down, I have one last thing to do.” Bilbo said, clasping his hands together. “Underneath your plates, you’ll find tonight’s dinner menu. Excuse me.”
After leaving his guests to sort out their seating, Bilbo quickly went outside and attached a lit lantern to the pole beside his gate, a signal he and Bell had come up with to alert her to send over her eldest son Hamson and two of her nephews who he had agreed to hire as servers for the meal. As soon as Bilbo had finished hanging his lantern, he could see the Gamgee’s smial door open and three figures stumble out. Even from his spot just up the row, Bilbo could hear their hushed tones and quickly stifled giggles..
“Hey!”
“Watch it!”
“Fredegar watch your stupid feet! You almost tripped me.”
Smiling to himself, Bilbo turned around and headed back to the dining room, confident that the boys would let themselves in and start their jobs without him hovering. (Bilbo always hired those lads, for they had good heads upon their shoulders and took it seriously.) Blinking, Bilbo paused at the archway to his dining room. “Oh my,” he stated mildly. “It appears we are missing a guest, aren’t we? You did tell me to expect fourteen guests, did you not?” Bilbo asked Gandalf. Upon seeing Gandalf’s slightly vexed nod, Bilbo tuttered away. “Shall we wait? Or,” he amended quickly upon seeing the looks of outrage on the 13 heads that snapped towards him upon hearing that blasphemy, “I could simply get the lads to set aside food for our missing guest that we can heat up upon arrival?” Seeing the mollified expressions, Bilbo cleared away the setting to his left and quickly brought it to the kitchen. ‘My word!’ he thought to himself in a huff. ‘No loyalty at all when it comes to food for these dwarrow! A hobbit would never start a meal without everyone present.” He paused, then tilted his head. “Mind you, a hobbit would never be late in the first place. Never late, never too early. Much too improper.” he thought to himself dryly.
When the dwarrow convening in the lounge heard the yells, they all jolted and rushed to see what was going on. (Only after they had all carefully set their teacups and plates down, none of them eager to see what their little host would do to them if they dared break or dirty something.)
It would be fair, to say, that none of them expected what they saw; their host presumably (seeing as that's where the yelling was emanating from) buried under the mountain of bodies of their brethren , and the legendary figure Tharkûn, just visible outside the door, with a shit eating smile on his old, wrinkled face. While the four of them were still trying to come to terms with seeing such a legendary being in person, hearing their small, 3 foot tall host threaten the wizard with bodily harm was another shock that seemed to stun everyone, even the dwarrow who had travelled here with him. Just as the silence that followed that statement dragged on to the other side of ‘too long’, the crown prince opened his fat mouth and proceeded to jar everything back into motion.
“You hear that, Kee? Not only will it be deadly, but it’ll be justified too.” His brother nodded his head, solemn expression on his face, as if his brother’s words were straight from the mouth of Eru Ilúvatar himself. Upon hearing that, Balin despaired over his apparent failed teachings, Dwalin wanted to smack the back of both of their heads, Óin was glad he was suddenly deaf again, while Bifur, Bombur, Glóin, and Dori worried for the future of the Durin's Folk. (Bofur and Nori thought that was hilarious, while Ori wasn’t surprised, seeing as he had been in contact with the princes before in his role as Balin’s apprentice.)
After righting themselves and being introduced to their (possible) burglar, (all while ignoring Glóin’s mutterings of ‘how dwarrow were made to stand tall’ and ‘Mahal did not intend for us to thrown around by vague, too-tall wizards’) the gaggle of dwarrow followed their host to his dining room.
Upon entering, it well and truly hit them that while they may be of similar heights, Dwarrow and Hobbits had two (apparently) very different cultures. The only ones who weren’t awkwardly shuffling around finding seating were Balin and Dori, who (with no hesitation) ended up sitting on opposite ends of the table from each other but somehow started pleasant small talk about the china and table decor. Only for their easy conversation to be halted by a small squeak from Ori, who had grabbed his dinner menu and was the first to look.
Immediately, he turned it towards his eldest brother and quietly started to rapid-fire questions. “This can’t be real, can it? Why so much food? And why so many options? What’s a ‘Removes’?” Immediately after seeing his brother wasn’t going to answer, too busy intensely going over his own menu, Ori whipped his head towards the Princes. Both who, unfortunately, looked just as confused and out of their comfort zone as everyone else.
“Don’t look at us,” Fíli said with both of his hands up. “The Dinners I’ve been to have looked nothing like this.”
“Yeah, it’s usually help yourself to all the food that’s already laid out on the table with fancy metal plates; none of this ‘It’ll break if I talk too loud’ delicate-ness Mr. Boggins has going on.” Kíli tacked on when the eyes turned to him. (Mahal knows why ; he was both the younger brother and the spare, so he hadn’t gone to as many nor for as long as Fíli had.)
Gandalf’s deep chuckle sounded through the room, surprising most dwarrow seeing as
- Gandalf had still been outside the last they had been aware,
- He somehow managed to maneuver to the end of the room, even though it was quite cramped even for the dwarrow to scoot behind chairs, nevermind that Gandalf was 5’6”
And lastly
- Gandalf had produced a man sized wine glass from Valar-knows were, and was swirling a strongly smelling wine around in it, while he had already started drinking, if the wine on the corners of his beard were to be believed.
“Young Ori,” Gandalf began magnanimously after taking another sip. “You’ll never find another race so serious about food. Hobbits eat plenty, and they eat well. Never, in all my years and travels, have I ever personally had as delicious food as that cooked by hobbits.” Finishing the last of his wine, the istari gestured broadly around him. “They have little care for jewellry or precious stones, caring only if their metals work well and are well-made. Only the oldest and richest families have silver sets, but that's only been a thing for the past 300 years, or so I am aware, and even that’s from the influence of Men.”
“If they don’t care, then why is my cutlery gold and stamped with wheat?” Bofur interjected with a confused look on his face while he turned the cutlery over and over in his hands.
Before Gandalf could answer, Bilbo came back in and enquired about their missing king. After whisking away a place setting to the kitchen so some food could be saved for him (and every dwarrow quickly feeling guilty over not even stopping to think of their king and making sure he had food), Gandalf quickly answered. “Yes, that’s gold. Gold is the only metal to not affect the taste of food; a sheaf of wheat is a famous symbol of Yavanna. It’s traditional for hobbit newlyweds to be gifted a gold spoon, fork, and knife stamped with a symbol of Yavanna. Dear Bilbo probably pulled out this set in particular for me, for they used to belong to a very dear friend.” Gandalf sighed and seemed to remember where he was. “But Bilbo Baggins is one of, if not the best, hosts in the Shire, for all that he doesn’t do it often.” As soon as Gandalf finished speaking, Bilbo walked into the room and sat down.
“Terribly sorry for the delay, but now dinner can be served!” the hobbit announced. Following his words, in walked 3 hobbits tweens, arms laden with food.
That proceeded an hour filled with scrumptious foods, good wine, fragrant teas, sweet juices and an almost dizzying dance of bringing in different foods and taking them out. When the last plates were finally taken out, (most still laden with food as only Bombur and Bilbo could eat more than a few bites) Bilbo stood up and was in the middle of suggesting that they retire to the smoking room when three heavy thuds rang through the smial.
It appeared the last guest had finally arrived.