An Unexpected Addition (Thilbo - Bagginshield)

Punishment

"Roar! I'm the mighty Smaug! Bow down, foolish dwarves!"

The royal drawing room was raucous that evening, all of the dwarves gathered in small circles throughout the large chamber. Bilbo sat in a plush chair before the glowing fireplace, one of Ori's new knitted blankets draped over his lap and a warm cup of apple cider in his hands. His nephew was on the carpeted floor beside him, playing with some of the many toys Bofur, Bifur, and the princes had made for him. The glorious battle was currently being narrated by Bofur, who was playing the dreadful part of Smaug with the extremely detailed toy dragon he'd designed himself.

Bilbo had almost objected to all of the toys, but the excited expressions on each of the dwarves' faces had stayed his tongue. The only reason Fíli and Kíli weren't also down there playing with the toys themselves was because of their presence down in Erebor's real-life dungeons instead. Both princes had been very grim when Bilbo had seen them shortly before supper, their mouths set into thin lines as they ate their ham and cheddar casseroles and then departed to meet up with their uncle. It was an unsettling sight to Bilbo, seeing a frown of that sort on the princes.

Even Bard would've been impressed, and that was really saying something. Few existed who could be grimmer than the King of Dale.

He much preferred the boys smiling and laughing, it fit their personalities so much better than those nasty, terrible frowns. Even if Fíli's frowns made his braided moustache look like a weeping willow. But that was pretty depressing, too.

"No! You can't eat him! Bad dragon! Very bad dragon!"

Frodo was crawling all over Bifur in an effort to attack Bofur's flying dragon, his toy version of Thorin trying to whack at the cackling lizard with a tiny wooden rendition of Orcrist. The older hobbit was very relieved that Frodo seemed to have forgotten all about the drama from earlier, his own ears still ringing with the screams of the unknown dwarf who'd had his tongue cut out by Dwalin. He'd scarcely even glimpsed Thorin earlier, the Dwarf-King only confirming Frodo's safety before storming out of his throne room, both of his nephews directly behind him.

Balin appeared at his side a few minutes later. The elderly dwarf took a seat in the armchair across from him, smiling down at the game of siege being played on the floor. A tankard of ale was clutched in his hands, a testament to how long and grueling the past several hours had been for the King's advisor.

"How are you doing, laddie?"

"Alright, I suppose," said Bilbo. He took another sip of his cider. "I'm still fairly puzzled by what happened earlier, but Frodo seems to have forgotten all about it. So, I'd say I'm alright with that."

"Well, I reckon some explaining would be called for right about now," said Balin, carefully waiting until Bofur and Bifur had lured the younger hobbit to another part of the room. "Especially considering the circumstances in which it occurred. My brother reacted quite a bit more violently than usual, but I think you'll understand his anger once I've had a moment to elaborate on the actual cause."

Bilbo waved his hand. "Well, elaborate away."

"The dwarf that incurred my brother's wrath goes by the name of Kozul. He's one of several dozen dwarves who arrived in Erebor about eight months ago from northeast of the Sea of Rhûn. And if you know your geography as well as I suspect you do, then you'll be able to deduce that the climate's quite inhospitable up that way. We were quite wary of their sudden arrival, especially since Erebor had very little in the way of good relations or peace treaties with the far eastern dwarves during Thrór's reign. But Thorin believed that turning them away would make his claims to Erebor appear weak, so he accepted them as miners and craftsmen within hours of their arrival."