Book One: Little River | Thorin Oakenshield

Chapter Three

~ | The Redhead | ~

The dwarves, with their usual gusto, began ferrying food from the pantry through Bilbo's home and into the kitchen. They heaped it all onto the table with little regard for the hobbit's attempts to stop them. Bilbo dashed after them, growing increasingly frustrated and exhausted as his carefully stored provisions were moved around.

"Those are my... Excuse me, not my wine! Put that back. Put that back! Not the jam, please. Excuse me. Ex... Excuse me!" he called out, his voice tinged with desperation.

One dwarf, notably large, emerged from the pantry carrying three wax-covered cheese wheels. He balanced the wheels precariously on his round belly, his ginger beard tied in a large braid that draped across his stomach.

"A tad excessive, isn't it? Have you got a cheese knife?" Bilbo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A cheese knife? He eats it by the block," replied Bofur, who was lounging in the kitchen, blowing smoke from his pipe. His dark brown hair was styled in two braids, and his goatee was neatly braided at the end.

Bilbo continued to scurry about, trying to manage the chaos. "No, no, that's Grandpa Mungo's chair, no... uh, so is that. Take it back, please. Take it back, this is antique, not for sitting on. Thank you. That is a book, not a coaster. Uh... put that map down," he pleaded, shoving another dwarf who was carrying a wooden chair back down the hallway.

Meanwhile, the rest of the dwarves, joined by Gandalf, were busy preparing the dining room for the impending feast, their boisterous energy adding to the already overwhelming scene.

Another dwarf approached Gandalf in the dining room, balancing a tray in one hand and a pot of tea in the other.

"Excuse me, Mr. Gandalf," Dori said politely.

"Yes?" Gandalf responded.

"May I tempt you with a cup of chamomile?" Dori offered.

"Ooh, no thank you, Dori. A little red wine for me, I think," Gandalf replied. He moved into the hallway but inadvertently knocked his head on a hanging candle chandelier. He quickly steadied the light, ensuring it didn't swing wildly.

As he began to count the dwarves amidst the ongoing commotion, he called out their names. "Uh... Fili, Kili. Oin, Gloin. Dwalin, Balin. Bifur, Bofur, Bombur. Dori, Nori..."

The bustling activity continued around him as he tried to keep track of the growing crowd and the overwhelming number of dwarves now present in Bilbo's home.

Bilbo rushed over, his voice filled with concern. "No, no. Not my prize winners, thank you!" he protested as he noticed a dwarf reaching for his prized collections.

Gandalf, who had been counting dwarves, suddenly called out, "Ori!"

One of the dwarves hurried over to Gandalf, grunting loudly in Dwarvish before slapping the leather strapping on his arm with a firm pat. Gandalf nodded in agreement, acknowledging the dwarf's gesture.

"Yes, you are quite right, Bifur," Gandalf said. "We appear to be one dwarf short."

The Hobbit rushed over to Gandalf, his eyes wide with concern. "Excuse me, did you say more dwarves?"

Gandalf looked down at Bilbo with a nod. "Yes, Bilbo, and another. Although I wouldn't call her a dwarf if I were you."

As if on cue, a loud yet gentle knock echoed through the house, momentarily stunning even the dwarves into silence. Kili and Fili sprang from their seats in the dining room, their excitement palpable as they rushed toward the front door, eagerly awaiting the Hobbit's action. They stood there like eager children, barely able to contain their anticipation as Bilbo approached the door to open it.