When the Dwarf Came A-visiting ~Míriel

            Chapter 2 ~Dinner, Supper, and the End of Bag End’s Foodstuffs          

            We ran forward and flung ourselves at the Dwarf.  It was the oddest thing that I have ever felt; very squishy.  

            Bombur flew through the door and landed on the floor, and we fell down on top of him.  It must have been much more painful for Bombur than for us; as he was wonderfully springy, quite a good cushion.  

            Bilbo ran over and pulled us off of Bombur.  “Oh, dear me,” he said; “Bombur, are you all right?”  

            Bombur moaned in response.  

            I cast a worried look at Bombur, who seemed to be fine, but one never can tell.  

            Bilbo grabbed Bombur’s hand and attempted to pull him up.  As he did, Frodo, Merry, and I watched in fascination as Bilbo’s first turned pink, then red, then a delightful shade of purple.  Bombur did not budge, and Bilbo soon gave up. 

            “Well, just stay there all day then,” he said in exasperation.   

            Bombur mumbled something from his position on the floor. 

            Bilbo leaned over.  “What was that?”  

            “I’ve had a most trying experience just now; I’m not ready to get up yet.”  His voice was slightly muffled, as his face was on the floor. 

            Bilbo rolled his eyes and sat down in a chair.  “Well lads,” he said, turning our attention from the Dwarf sprawled on the floor, “Did you have a nice day of it?”  

            Merry opened his mouth to speak, but Bombur sat up and interrupted him.   

            “Dear Bilbo, I feel rather faint.  Is there any way that you might have something to nourish a famished Dwarf?”  

            Bilbo looked horrified as he realized that he had a guest in his home, and he had not so much as offered him a spot of tea!  “Oh, dear me, come, come,” he said, leading Bombur down the hall into the front room.  Bombur barely managed to squeeze through the hall, which was the widest in Bag End.  “Here you go,” he handed Bombur the cold cup of tea that had been abandoned earlier, “Where are my manners?  Just one moment...” his voice faded as he ran into the kitchen.  We could hear pots and pans banging, and snatches of Bilbo’s voice as he worried about what to feed Bombur.  

            Bombur took a sip of the tea and made a face.  “Cold,” he said.   

            Merry was staring in awe at the Dwarf, or, most likely, the axe that Bombur was carrying.  “Have you been in many battles?” h asked, clearly impressed.  

            I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying that with Bombur’s girth, he probably would not have been in any battles, as he would have been too easy a target.  I leaned over and whispered as much to Frodo, who glared at me while trying to not to laugh.   

            Bombur had been going on for several minutes about the Battle of Five Armies; (which I am sure he observed from behind a nearby rock, or hill.  Poor Frodo’s face was turning a pretty red color from attempting to hold in the laughter as I continued to relay my thoughts to him.  I’m sure that he could have cheerfully killed me ;) when Bilbo came back into the room carrying a plate full of fruit, cheese, and breads.  

            “There’s some water for tea heating in the kitchen.  I hope this is sufficient for now,” Bilbo said.  

            Bombur hungrily eyed the plate and took some bread and cheese.  “Yes, quite,” he answered around mouthfuls.  

            Bilbo pulled out his pocket watch and inspected it, then frowned.  “Forgot to wind it,” he muttered, then said loudly “Frodo!”  

            Frodo stopped, hand inches away from the plate of food.  He turned to Bilbo with a guilty look on his face.  

            “Frodo, be a good lad and go see what time it says on the clock in the hall.”  

            After giving a longing glance to the food, Frodo turned and went down the hall.  He came back and reported that it was 4 o’clock and a half, which meant that it was only thirty minutes until dinner.   

            While we were making dinner, Bombur and Bilbo caught up on the events in each others lives during an animated conversation through the kitchen door.   

            “So, Bombur,” Bilbo said eagerly, “What news of our old companions?”  

            Bombur thought for a moment.  “Let me see now,” he said thoughtfully, “I’ll start with Bifur and Bofur.”  

            “Ah, yes, how are your brothers?”  

            “They’ve both gotten married.”  

            Bilbo looked up in surprise from the soup he was stirring. “Married!  Bless me, what wonderful news!  And who are the lucky, er,” his face wrinkled in confusion as he wondered what to call the spouses of Bifur and Bofur.  He had never heard of Dwarves marrying, although they needed to reproduce somehow.  

            “Bombur, what are they marrying?”  

            Bombur gave Bilbo an odd look.  “Women, of course.”  

            “Well, I know that, but I didn’t know that you Dwarves, er, had any women.”  

            Bombur stared at Bilbo for a moment, and then laughed, his triple chins jiggling merrily.  “Dear me, Bilbo, surely you don’t think that Dwarves come out of stone?”  

            Bilbo was silent.  

            Bombur shook his head in mirth.  “Dear Bilbo, there are Dwarf women, although they are few to be seen.  Surely you remember Thorin calling Fili and Kili the sons of his father’s daughter?”  

            Bilbo reddened.  “Of course I remember,” he huffed.  “It merely slipped my mind.”  

            Bombur nodded.  “Of course,” he said.  

            “So,” Bilbo said, trying to get Bombur to forget his mistake, “Who are the lucky ladies that Bifur and Bofur are wedding?”  

            “Difur and Dofur, two of the most beautiful Dwarf women I have ever seen.” Bombur said proudly.  

            “I’m sure they were made for each other.” Bilbo said dryly.  

            “What do they look like?” Merry asked, taking a sip of water.  He had recently realized that the female species existed, and was intent on learning all he could about them.  

            Bombur sighed dreamily.  “They both have the most beautiful brown eyes—you could lose yourself in them—deep pools as dark as Kheled-zâram itself; long brown hair, and the softest, longest beards—”  

            Merry spit out his water and started choking.  I rushed over and pounded him on the back until he stopped.  “Mer, are you alright?” I exclaimed.  

            He waved me away and stared at Bombur.  “Did you say...beards...” he asked faintly.  

            “Yes, indeed.  They have the most beautiful beards I have ever seen on a woman.”  

            Merry’s face went completely white, and I knew that he was just picturing that sweet little Lily Chubb with a full beard.  He turned and ran outside, and from his lack of appetite later, I believe it is safe to say that he proceeded to lose his lunch.  

            Bombur looked confused.  “Was it something I said?”  

            Bilbo and Frodo assured him that it was nothing; Merry was given to have spells like that.  Bilbo then tried to change the subject to something safer, such as how his other old companions were doing.  

            I had lost interest in the conversation and wandered outside to check on Merry.  He was sitting outside looking very pale.  I sat down next to him and waited for him to speak.  It was silent outside, save for the birds chirping here and there.  Inside, I could still hear Bombur and Bilbo reminiscing.   

            Finally Merry spoke.  “Beards, Pip.  When he said that, I saw women with beards.” Merry shuddered.  

            I patted his shoulder in sympathy.  

            “I am never going to be able to look at Lily the same way again,” he murmured.            

            Some how Merry made it back inside for dinner.  That night, Bilbo somehow managed to make dinner and supper for all five of us.  (I think that with Bombur it added up to nine or ten.)  I have never seen anyone eat so much, not even at my cousin’s wedding, as Bombur did that evening.  He simply ate...and ate...and ate...and, well, you understand.  Halfway through dinner, Merry and I gave up trying to concentrate on our dinner and just stared at Bombur in fascination.  Frodo managed to be a little more subtle in his observation: he actually blinked now and then while staring.  Bilbo was the only one who seemed unnerved by the whole thing; I suppose that he has seen Bombur eat before.  

            We ate dinner and supper on the floor in the front room, as we had realized that even though Bombur was in Bag End, he could just not simply walk about as he pleased.  He had gone from the front door to the front room, and that is where he would stay.  We had tried to take him into the kitchen to eat dinner, but as soon as he tried to enter we realized that the doorframe was too small for him to fit through, thus, we would eat in the front room.  We ate on the floor because Bilbo valued his chairs.  

            By the time that dinner and supper were eaten and cleaned up, Bilbo was looking extremely frazzled.  (This was greatly increased by the fact that in only two meals, we had managed to clean out the cupboards.) He walked into the front room, where Bombur was busy telling Merry, Frodo, and me of another of the battles that he had been in.  He waited impatiently for several minutes, tapping his fingers, clearing his throat, and sighing heavily.  Finally Bombur noticed Bilbo and turned his attention to him.  

            “Bless me Bilbo, is something the matter?  You seem to be all fidgety.”  

            Bilbo fidgeted some more and looked highly uncomfortable.  “Well, I was simply wondering if, well, maybe you needed some, foodstuffs, or maybe some, er;” he stammered.  

            “Why, whatever for?” Bombur exclaimed.  

            “For your—journey, as I assume that you must be setting out before night.”  

            “Journey?  Oh, dear Bilbo, I meant to ask you, but it just slipped my mind, what with the problem with your door and all.”  

            Bilbo’s voice went up an octave.  “Ask me what?”  

            “Well, you see, Bifur and Bofur have been visiting in the mountains west of the Shire, and they agreed to meet me here in Hobbiton, since I was visiting, er, well, that isn’t important right now, but since they’re meeting me here, I need somewhere to stay, and none of the inns would take me, and Bifur and Bofur were sure that you let an old friend visit for a while, and, er...”  

            Bilbo opened his mouth and moved his lips, but no sound came out; just some funny little squeaks.  Frodo glanced at him worriedly, but Merry and I looked at each other with excitement.  Imagine!  A Dwarf staying here, in Bag End, at just the time that we were!  What luck!  

            Bilbo finally managed to find his voice.  “Well, I guess that I’ll need to stock up on food then,” he said faintly.   

            I smiled to myself.  This would prove to be a most magnificent visit, indeed.