ᴍᴀʀᴀʟᴍɪᴢɪ | KILI DURIN¹ ❦

➺ That's What Bilbo Baggins Hates! ➵

Back again, down Bag End. The Shire looked different after dark, almost more beautiful in a way. Fireflies danced under the treetops, illuminating the leaves like little fairies carrying lanterns to and fro. The cobblestone path seemed to glow a magical blue hue under the moonlight; like walking in a dream; though, travelling anywhere at any time in the Shire was like walking in a dream, a very good dream.

I stood in front of Bilbo's round emerald door, staring at the handle of the doorbell. I noticed the carvings Gandalf scratched into the wood were still glowing brightly, I couldn't imagine how anybody who was looking for them could miss them. That, of course, being the point.

I was early to the gaff, likely one of the first few. It was planned that I was to join Gandalf, but he was unfortunately delayed while rounding up the majority of the invited guests. The guests in question, being dwarves, and not some of the brightest. I inhaled a breath of cool fresh air; it smelled of dewdrops after rainfall.

Riiing!

I pulled the doorbell gently. The jingling, crisp echoes of the small metal bell filled up the sounds of the night, overshadowing the faint chirps of distant crickets for only a moment. As soon as the silence retained, the door swung open to reveal a very flustered hobbit. His eyes were squeezed shut in annoyance.

He sighed dramatically, "Let me guess, another dwarf insisting on giving me his service?"

"Not quite," I smiled, "but I am very much at your service Mr. Baggins, sir!"

Bilbo quickly switched his demeanour, standing up tall and fixing his dressing gown against his pyjamas. He coughed awkwardly, "My mistake—ahem—Seyda. May I ask if you know what's going on here, specifically why I have two dwarves—uninvited, mind you—ransacking my kitchen?" The hobbit seemed exasperated as it was, if only he knew what was to come...

"Oh you'll see in due time, Mr. Baggins. In the mean time, do you mind if I come inside, it's quite cold out here," I shivered, the rain on my black cloak had begun to seep under and freeze in the wind.

Without a second thought (almost as if his good manners betrayed him), he kindly allowed me inside. The interior was even more homely then I imagined; the hallway we were standing in was lit warmly by a copper chandelier, hung on the ceiling a little above my head height. The white walls glowed orange from the candle fixtures. Bag End was filled with the smell of a comfortable open fire, crackling boisterously in the room over. There was also sounds  of shuffling and talking coming from further into the hobbit hole, I was most interested in finding who they were coming from.

"Not ideal, but at least that's it," Bilbo ran a hand through his curly mop of golden hair, standing with his other hand on his hip, "Right, Seyda?"

I looked down at him for a moment, the corner of my lip curled upwards.

"Seyda?"

Without answering, I diverted my gaze to a small pile of weaponry strewn on the floor beside a rather impressive wooden dresser. A couple of wet cloaks hung limply on the rack. Bilbo continued to feen for an answer, but to keep the night exciting for him I simply ignored his fretting.

From around the corner, hard footsteps could be heard making their way over to us. They came from a short stout looking man—a dwarf, in fact—wearing bulky black boots with thick iron souls. He was dressed in a long red robe adorned with patterned silver accents, shaped in swirls and diamonds along the collar and sleeves. The hair on his head was cut short, sticking upwards in all directions as if struck by lighting, though his round face was soft and kind. His large hooked nose overhung the friendly grin reddening his cheeks.

His long white beard fell to his knees as he bowed, "Balin, at your service!"

I returned a capacious smile, "Seyda, at yours!"