Fighting Back

Chapter One

Nothing was heard inside the rooms of Bag End save for the gentle sizzling of fat in a pan and the quiet, rhythmic humming of a hobbit. The hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, in fact, was making dinner for one.

Yes, for one.

Despite living with someone else, he always made meals for only himself. She never showed up on time for meals anyway. Besides, she didn't eat as often as he did (but was pretty close).

Bilbo wondered when she would get back. She was out doing some favor for another hobbit. He thought he remembered it being something about fending off wolves, but he couldn't be sure. He'd ask her later.

The hobbit continued to hum, now gently lifting the completely cooked fish from the frying pan and onto a plate. Perfect. If there was one thing that he could do right, it was cook. Not even Lairin could deny that.

There was a sound at the door. Bilbo looked up from his plate; listened. Heavy footsteps.

Lairin. Was she home?

The person outside the door knocked. Well, it was more like pounded.

No. That wasn't her. She never knocked. She merely walked in.

The hobbit frowned. A visitor? He hadn't been expecting a -

Oh. Gandalf. Yes, Gandalf. The wizard who had stopped by earlier that day. He had said something about guests, did he not? Bilbo didn't want to think about it. All he wanted to do was enjoy his dinner.

But... he did have a guest at the door, did he not?

With a deep sigh, the disgruntled hobbit stood. He tightened his robe as he padded to the door. Bilbo unlocked it, swinging the door wide open to see... a dwarf?

The only reason Bilbo knew it was a dwarf was because of Lairin. This man had the same physical structure as she did.

"Hello?" Bilbo had hardly gotten the words out when the rather large dwarf brushed past him. Were they all so rude? Hello was not an invitation to barge into his house.

Before he could blink an eye, the dwarf was sitting in his spot and going to eat his fish.

And then the door opened.

Bilbo spun around (a little too eagerly) to see who it was.

Lairin.

She stood in the door, imposing as ever. Her tall form filled the doorway and casted a long shadow in the entry.

The dwarf behind him stopped. Lairin hadn't been looking at him at first, but now she noticed the sudden lack of movement.

"Who are you?" She asked, her dark eyes narrowing.

"D-dwalin, m'lady," the dwarf managed to stutter out.

Bilbo's brow furrowed. Did dwarves stutter? He didn't think so.

Lairin stepped fully into the house and shut the door behind her. She had to duck her head slightly to fit her slender body completely in the compact hobbit hole. Slowly, she walked into the dining room.

"What are you doing here?"

The dwarf seemed to recover his composure, but his eyes still glanced nervously at the bow slung across her back and the sword hanging at her waist. Bilbo knew she had many more weapons on her, concealed in clever places.

"Gandalf told us to come here."

At this, her brows raised. "Gandalf, eh? Really, Dwalin?"

Dwalin nodded. "Yes... we're meeting our leader here to," he paused, thinking, "discuss some matters Gandalf felt important."