Chapter Text
Bilbo enjoyed his life. He enjoyed being small and busy, as well as watching telivision with hashbrowns and a cup of tean in front of him. It was enough to say that he didn't enjoy sports. He couldn't find the appeal in tiring himself out, as well as getting dirty and possibly injured. Concequently, he gave up trying to impress the girls throughout highschool. His parents only ever cared about good grades and a clean nose, so naturally he stuck with his academics. As it turns out, sticking with academics got him into one of the best universities this side of Fangorn: Erebor.
His parents couldn't have been prouder, and Bilbo couldn't have been more terrified. He had never ventured outside of the small suburbs of the Shire, and Erebor was out east, way over the Misty Mountains. He tried to argue that residence was too expensive, but both his mother and father insisted that with all of his academic acholarships, Bilbo had basically earned a free ride. And just like that, the arguement was over, and an old family friend showed up to drive both Bilbo and all hid worldly posessions to Erebor and help move in.
Bilbo sighed against the windo of the grey truck, and Gandalf chuckled.
"Don't be so glum," he muttered, "I thought you wanted to go to Erebor, was it not you that applied?"
Bibo fidgeted in his seat and glanced out at the dark forest, "I only did it to make my parents happy." he tapped his toes and twiddled his thumbs nearously. Mirkwood was a vast expanse of forest that the two needed to drive through in order to get to the University. The thick foliage was capable of blotting out the sun, casting eerie shadows over the road. It made Bilbo nervous to say the least, never mind Gandalf's halfhazard way of driving, "besides, I didn't think I'd actually get accepted."
Gandalf actually laughed this time, sending the old man into a coughing fit, nearly driving them both off the road.
"Bilbo Baggins! I have always known of the greatness you have inside you, and everyone seems to be sure of it but yourself!" he scolded, though his tone was good-natured. Bilbo could only roll his eyes, he had heard enough of that from the man all his life.
"I don't belong in Erebor! I'm just Bilbo Baggins! I'm supposed to stay home and inherit my house from my parents! I have to . . . I have to . . ." Bilbo trailed off after his outburst, only the quiet sound of his breathing to quell the silence. Gandalf looked down the road and shook hid head, bus said nothing.
They arrived at the university late in the afternoon, and after asking for directions twice, as well as a trip to the University Help Centre to retrieve his key, Gandalf pulled into the residence area on campus. As they drove through the congested roads, Bilbo couldn't help but gawk.
Hundreds of kids, his age or older, were carrying furniture and suitcases up stairs and through doorways. Furniture was being lifted out of trunks and garbage was being thrown out. Everyone was laughing and smiling in excitement for the new year, at least, everyone but Bilbo.
Gandalf pulled up and parked next to a large, three-story condo with the name Bag End plastered onto the door. The entire building was made with red brick, besides the wooden door and window frames, which were painted a deep forest green. The clashign colours made Bilbo wince, even the big, brass doorknob seemed out of place.
He slid out of the passenger's seat and sighed heavily, somehow unable to tear his eyes away from the residence building. His residence building. Gandalf handed him his suitcase and in return, Bilbo shot him an exhasperated look. The old man only rolled his eyes and motioned for Bilbo to follow him. They both climbed the stairs, and Bilbo fumbled with his key to open the door.
Luckily, his name was posted on the first door to the left of the entrance, the pink sticky not spelled Billy Boggins. He didn't read the second name, as he was too nearvous to stand still. He quickly jiggled the doorknob until it opened and almost fell into the room behind it. Gandalf was only able to catch him by the collar of his shirt and haul him to his feet.
The flat was bigger then Bilbo thought it would be, complete with a kitchen, bathroom and a living room. The latter was equipped with a cheap looking ikea couch and armchair surrounding a cofee table. The entire space had white carpets, and the kitchen's floor was laminate and boring.
"Hello?" Bilbo called, walking towards the back of the flat, where he found two bedrooms and a linen closet. Both rooms were identical, and held a bare bed, night stand, and empty closet. Biblo dropped his suitcase on the floor and turned to Gandalf
"We forgot the hangars." he huffed, and the old man only shrugged dismissively, depositing a pillow and set of sheets on the bed.
"Maybe he hasn't arrived yet." Gandalf sugested.
Bilbo scoffed, "Well, then he's terribly late." he then worried at the hem of his shirt and went to the kitchen. Inside was a small refridgerator, a stove and sink. The cabinets were painfully empty, along with the fridge. Biblo peered through the archway into the living room, almost appaled, "We have to go get groceries."
The next few hours consisted of the two moving the rest of Bilbo's personal effects into the flat, and then leaving to get groceries. They bot returned with an entire pantry's worth of food, along with soup cans and hangars. The bed was then made, clothing hung up and folded. Evverything was dusted and wiped down until the flat was spotless. Bilbo even had time to make himself dinner after Gandalf had left to chack into a hotel.
Bilbo sighed contentedly as he sat in fron of his full plate. He took pride in the efficiency of which he had been able to set up his new home. Bilbo looked about and smiled at his good work. He decided he could like it here in Erebor, however loud and busy it was outside. He was so caught up in the moment he barely heard the knock at the door.
Bilbo made an exhasperated sound as he stood and hurried to the door. Upon opening it, his face fell in disappointment. A man with broad shoulders and muscled arms eyed him expectantly.
Bilbo bliked, "Um,"
"Dwalin." the man growled roughly, and pushed both past Bilbo and through the door. Bilbo stood frozen in place and pursed his lips, brow furrowed. He was interrupted by a loud roar from the kitchen.
Bilbo jumped and ruched back to the table, imagining a worst-case acenario that invilved a broken plate. Instead, he saw Dwalin seated at the table, wolfing down the dinner he had prepared himself.
"'S good, this." the intruder grunted through a mouthful. Bilbo pursed his lips together again and bit his tongue, trying not to get annoyed at Dwalin's awful table manners. He was going to politely ask this new student what he was doing here when a knock at the door stopped him.
Thinking it was Gandalf, Bilbo stormed down the hall to the doorway and flung it open. Instead of the tall, grey and familiar face, he was met with a smiling shorter man that somehow resembled his other visitor.
"Balin." he shook Bilbo's hand politely and wandered into the flat, laughing and roughly exchanging a greeting with Dwalin. Bilbo was too dazed at first to notice the two had founf the cupboards and fridge, but the clanging of pots and pans snapped him out of it.
The two were muttering to themselves quietly as Bilbo snuck in, wringing his hands.
"Um," Bilbo squeaked, vying desperately for their attention, "now I know that we're all really excited for school starting, but. . . um. . . I've just moved in, but. . . I don't mean to be rude, but I'm sorry." Bilbo blinked at the two men, who continued talking as if they hadn't even noticed him, "Um, excuse me?"
Both of the intruders slowly turned and Bilbo shrunk under their gaze. The seemed to grow in size when they looked at him, both bodies large and intimidating.
"Um, well, nevermind." Bilbo waved his arms curtly and flushed pink, and the two men continued unloading the cupboards without heasitation. Bilbo was about to protest with an excuse of money trouble, but there was another knock at the door. The noise made him jump, and he scuttled off to answer the door once more. He winced when he opened it, praying to God it was the old man that was two visitors late of an explanation.
When he opened his eyes he almost sagged, as two more unframiliar faces smiled at him expectantly.
"I'm Fili," the blond one rocked on his heels in excitement.
"and I'm Kili," the dark haired one giggled, looking to the taller one, "the Durin brothers, at your service." the last portion was spoken by the two of them in unicine, both giving curt nods before pushing past Bilbo and wiping their dirty shoes on the carpet.
"Ah! Dwalin and Balin are here!" one of the two roared from the kitchen.
"I can't wait 'till the others get here!" the other laughed heartily.
The comment barely registered in Bilbo's already befuddled mind. He turned towards the kitchen with wide eyes and and overall horrified look on his face, "O-others?" he managed to sputter, and he heard the clanging of plates and dishes once more. He was just about to bustle back to the kitchen and abjure the use of cutlery and dishes, but yet another knock at the door interrupted him.
He was halfway between scolding and cursing when a group of people cut him off by faceplanting onto the doormat, with Gandalf chuckling softly behind the rowdy group.
His company all stood with a clamour and loud laughter, everyone seeming to be yelling at each other, includinf Bilbo, but there was too much going on for him to register what anyone was saying. All the little host could to was look at Gandalf, and the smirk on his face was telling enough. Bilbo knew who was behind all of this.
There were shouts from the kitchen, and Bilbo saw that most of the space, including the counters, was taken up by visitors and plates of food. One particularly large man had made off with an entire tub of ice cream, and Dwalin had somehow produced a fair amount of liquor. Loud laughter erupted from the menu and Bilbo suddenly felt very small and out of place amongst the crowd. Gandalf also sat and laughed gently, but decided to hold off on the feast before him.
Bilbo, at a loss for words, could only watch as the company devoured his entire kitchen. The lot of them took a swig from their beers and cheered merrily, but Bilbo politely refused when offered. What irked him the most about the whole lot was the fact that none of them said please or thank you, they were also too boisterous and rowdy for his taste, as if everything was somewhat funny.
When the group was full, the lot of them washed the dishes and piled them neatly on the table. Bilbo stood dumbstruck in the doorway of the small kitchen, a look of complete astonishment on his face. Gandalf chuckled at the smaller students reaction, who merely glared daggers at the older man.
By this time, Bilbo had built up enough courage to implore the meaning of this party and to kindly get out, if you don't mind. Before he could even draw a breath, a strong knock at the door caused the room to quiet. Gandalf raised an eyebrow at him and Bilbo cursed, being cautious as he opened the door. He nervously peered out from behind the door frame and sighed with relief.
The man standing before him was a whole foot taller than him, with a thick neck and broad shoulders. His toned arms were crossed over his chest as he glared at Bilbo, puffing up dominantly and widening his stance.
"Sorry I'm late." the accented lilt rolled off of his tongue as he held out his hand, which Bilbo took gently. The great paw engulfed Bilbo's own easily as the stranger nearly shook him off of the mat. "Thorin Oakenshiled. I guess everyone's already eaten?" Bilbo nodded and shrunk back behind the door as Thorin stepped in confidently. The rest of the company greeted the newcomer with a little more respect than they had each other, Bilbo was surprised.
"So, this is our scrummy, Gandalf?" Thorin asked, allowing his eyes to flick over Bilbo, who merely blinked and glanced from side to side.
Gandalf smiled, "Why yes, Thorin, I'm sure he'd be the appropriate choice."
Bilbo widened his eyes as panic set in, "Um, no. I'm not a scrumhalf, I actually can't play rugby! Terribly violent, much to difficult for me! I - uh. . . School's-" the company stared as Bilbo tried to sputter excuses, and Kili turned to Gandalf with a smirk on his face.
"Well, he certainly is small enough." a couple others grunted in agreement. "You ever play before?" he then asked Bilbo quietly.
"No! Never! Not in my life!" Bilbo blurted hurriedly, almost as if he were panicking. He only stopped when the Thorin held up a hand to quiet him. He looked to Gandalf, who shrugged quietly, and then he faced Bilbo once more. Thorin opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to decide against it, shaking his head slightly.
"Well," he turned to the group of kitchen-invaders, "at least you can all help me move in." the room erupted with cheers and the entire group pushed past Bilbo.
Bilbo stood in a daze for a moment, the silence almost deafening in the ruined kitchen.
"M-move in?" he squeaked at Gandalf, who smiled softly and guided Bilbo to the doorway yet again. The first name was still spelled horribly wrong, and Bilbo reminded himself that he would have to complain later. But just underneath his name, a sticky note was attached hurriedly just under it, where a name was proudly scrawled in thick letters.
Thorin Oakenshield
Bilbo groaned and sagged into Gandalf's grip, feeling weak at the knees.
"I think you should get to sleep." he grumbled and helped Bilbo to his freshly made bed and pulled the covers over him. Bilbo closed his eyes and nuzzled into his pillow, scoffing as he heard the dull clamour of too many people in his flat.
"Scrumhalf."