Comes Around Again (Gigolas & Bagginshield)

An Expected, Unexpected Party

Dwalin was the first to arrive.

The knock sounded just before teatime, as Bilbo was directing Gimli on where and how to move the large, cast-iron pot full of dumpling stew. "Oh!" Bilbo fairly squeaked, and Gimli managed to not drop the pot only by sheer luck. "They're here!"

Bilbo scurried off to answer the door. Gimli placed the pot down on the sideboard and smoothed a hand over his hair, his tunic. 'Here we are,' he thought. The letter from Dís sat heavy in his pocket where it rested next to the Lady's Gift, and he just hoped he had been correct in his prediction of who would support his presence here.

"...right through there," Bilbo's voice drifted down the hall, and Dwalin grunted a reply. Gimli rolled his eyes; if that had been Bilbo's first introduction to Dwarves, no wonder he had been a bit overwhelmed.

Dwalin appeared in the doorway and was so distracted by the sheer quantity of food laid before him, he did not immediately notice Gimli. In fact, Gimli was certain he saw a tear form in the corner of Dwalin's eye, and filed that information away for later.

Honestly, it was truly a tear-inducing feast. Even at the height of wealth Gimli remembered, Erebor's feasts would be hard-pressed to match the sheer volume and quality of the dishes before them. There were bowls of potatoes and other starchy tubers, mashed, roasted, and made into salad. There was a plate of spicy sausages next to a creamy gravy to cut the heat, and a little plate of savory meat-pies. A whole roasted lamb sat in the center of the table next to a brace of hens, seasoned with fresh herbs Bilbo had picked from his newly sprung garden. There were three types of rolls, four types of cheese, five types of jam, and a large pot of honey to drizzle over the lot of it. Not to mention the fruit pies and seed cakes Bilbo had on the sideboard for afters, and the bowls of pickled vegetables and whole cooked eggs for munching. And, naturally, the mushrooms Gimli had brought had been stuffed and sautéed and braised and added to every dish possible. Hobbits did really like mushrooms.

Of course, then Dwalin noticed him, narrowing his eyes. Gimli straightened and met Dwalin's stare, unflinching. He had every right to be here, regardless of what Thorin had said. Finally, Dwalin grunted, shook his head, and attended to more pressing matters; he took a seat and settled in to eat. His first bite of roast chicken was a test and he paused, chicken grease shining in his beard, before he let slip his hunger, barely pausing to fill his plate before feeding his face.

"Very good, this," he said around a mouthful of sausage, once Bilbo appeared in the doorway. "My compliments."

"Oh, thank you," Bilbo said with a funny little bow, and then the doorbell rang again, and he was gone. Gimli took a piece of cheese and an apple, and ignored the look Dwalin gave him. If Dwalin didn't approve, Dwalin was more than capable of saying so.

"Balin," Gimli heard. "At your service."

"Oh," Dwalin muttered, shoving a sweet biscuit into his mouth and standing as Balin joined them.

"Evenin', Brother," Balin said, entering the kitchen with a swaggering step.

"By my beard," Dwalin said, wiping the crumbs from his lips. "You're wider and shorter than last we met."

"Wider, not shorter," Balin said with a wink. "And sharp enough for the both of us."

Dwalin chuckled and grabbed Balin by the shoulders. Balin returned the grip, and, after a moment, they smashed their heads together with enough force to make Bilbo jump.

In his corner, Gimli rolled his eyes. They had seen each other last a week ago. He wondered, if they had lived that long, if Fíli and Kíli would adopt such overblown habits. Probably, he realized, and they would most likely be even more ridiculous than these.