6 Masterfully Miscommunicated (III)

Nori wondered what in Mahal's beard he had been thinking. He may like to act all smug and self-assured, as if he was the most upbeat person on Middle Earth, but that was just a performance he put on for the benefit of everyone else. He was one who had grown from petty thief to petty crime ring leader, then all the way to (oft-downtrodden like all his kin) spy master after Smaug totally shattered their livelihood, blurring the lines between the good dwarves and bad. After spending decades keeping up his legally ambiguous ways and preempting assassination attempts against Thorin and his family (thankfully few and without them knowing, for the most part, but even those were more than there should have been), his hope for a better future had been well and truly shot.

And with it, so had his hope for pretty much any sort of good turn. It was great being a doomsayer. It meant that if you were ever surprised, it could only be in a good way.

So what in The Halls of the Ancestors was he thinking, indulging in optimism?! It's not like he'd been given enough cause to think Thorin and Bilbo Baggins would hit it off! Sure, the hobbit was lean and elegant, cultured and quick-witted, a master of knives no matter how unbalanced, the best cook ever and charming as sin, but that wasn't enough cause to…

Oh, who was he kidding? There had been plenty of reasons to be optimistic!

And yet they hated each other on sight.

Which meant that the fact Nori ended up unpleasantly surprised was all Thorin's fault. He was going to strangle that troublesome dwarf someday. Thorin would deserve it and Nori would enjoy it.

Now if only he could rid himself of that little shred of morality he still possessed…

Drat. Loyalty was so troublesome.

At least the hobbit (and no, Nori didn't say or think the word as an insult) didn't seem to hold Thorin's "introduction" against the rest of them. After finally sitting down at the table to join the feast he'd cooked, Bilbo Baggins kept up a steady stream of conversation with whoever was willing to reciprocate, especially the princes (the two were surprisingly taken with him, though Nori suspected Bilbo had bought them off with pastries) and Ori.

He was chatting despite that Dori had sat himself between the hobbit and their younger brother, supposedly to act as a barrier.

From the conversation with his younger brother, Nori could see that Bilbo shared Ori's love of all things written and drawn. Bilbo even shared his passion for creating maps, which was a surprising skill really, although Nori would be the first to admit they didn't know much about hobbits so he wasn't the one to judge. Or shouldn't be anyway.

Which was pretty unacceptable for the one supposed to know things. Too bad they couldn't stay in the Shire for a while. He had a feeling it wouldn't actually be a waste of time to spend a day or two learning about the supposedly gentlest folk on Middle Earth.

Although he could admit he was learning enough from just this one hobbit. Their incredible capacity for putting away food being one of them. Stone, where was all that food going? And how in the world was the Hobbit devouring it so fast and without making a mess of himself? And he thought Bombur was an endless pit when it came to eating!

And as Nori had noticed before, Bilbo Baggins did it all while keeping up various conversations, and without speaking with his mouth full even once.

It was baffling.

But not as much as his ability to completely turn around everything Thorin said to him, and twist every comment about him into a compliment.

"Well, at least this feast means you lived up to my expectations of you, such as they were."

"Yes, I don't know about dwarves but we hobbits love food." Baggins would casually say, acting as if he was totally pleased with the remark. And also immersed in the act of cutting his steak. "Being complimented on our cooking is one of the greatest honors a guest can bestow upon us."

Nori wasn't sure if Thorin was seeing through the act. Probably, but the way he scowled meant he was pissed off anyway.

Tough break. If Bilbo Baggins was going to weaponize culture shock, Nori would damn well enjoy every single moment of it.

"I noticed there were a lot of flowers outside. Very… delicate. I assume you tend to them yourself? I imagine they take up most of your time." Which was to say, I suppose you're also a gardener in addition to a grocer.

"Oh, I'd love to, but I simply haven't the time for them all!" And bless the lad, he sounded honestly contrite. "I usually find I must rely on dear old Hobson Gamgee from down the street. Wonderful fellow. Has the best green thumb I've ever encountered."

"I am certain he does."

That was a lousy topic closer, Nori thought. Thorin could have easily bent that statement around and made a quip about Bilbo Baggins starting a project that was beyond him and having to rely on the pity of the neighbors.

Mahal, if you're going to get into double-speak, at least do it decently! This was cringe-worthy! Literally! Everyone at the table other than Gandalf and Thorin himself had cringed at least once. And Dwalin kept wincing every time those two spoke to each other, if it could even be called that. And had even whimpered that one time, though no one other than him seemed to take notice. Blast the guardsman for taking the seat right next to him. Bastard just wouldn't let go of the past and kept insisting he, Nori, should be kept an eye on.

Dwalin wasn't fit to keep an eye on himself with the state he was in.

And lo and behold, Fili and Kili seemed to find the sight of their uncle getting verbally trounced absolutely hilarious. Their attempt at hiding their amusement beyond pints of ale (Mahal, the ale) were half-arsed at best, but Thorin was too absorbed in his ongoing, self-engineered aggravation to notice anything.

Nori wondered when the world had gone wrong to the point where he, a crook, seemed to have more loyalty towards their would-be king than the man's own nephews.

And he wondered why Thorin was so easy to rile up, and why he came in looking to make himself feel better at another's expense in the first place. The only answer Nori could think of was that he was already burdened with a foul mood. A mood so foul that it could only mean the to the council of lords in the north had resulted in failure. It would explain why he would linger on the doorway for so long. If Dain had refused to help them, Thorin probably wouldn't be eager to share that bit of news.

Nori really hoped he was wrong. But he was willing to bet his hair style he wasn't. And he was good at gambling, because he always cheated.

The feast continued on in that fashion for a while, until nearly every plate and tray was empty or filled with scraps. Bilbo was talking to Gandalf, the wizard having sat at his left the whole time, when Ori hesitantly cut in. "Excuse me."

Bilbo Baggins turned his entire attention towards the blond dwarf. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

Nori wanted to sigh. Good old Ori. Always had too many manners.

Before Bilbo could answer (probably with something along the lines that he'll take care of it because he's the host after all), Fili stood up from across the table. "Toss it here!"

Nori knew that eye gleam and that grin.

But surprise of all surprises, Ori looked at Bilbo for permission first. From the corner of his eye, Nori saw Thorin straighten at seeing the Hobbit's authority so blatantly recognized as superior to that of the Heir Under the Mountain.

Bilbo Baggins smiled indulgently and leaned back in his armchair, gesturing that he go ahead.

One plate toss led to another, then the other dwarves began to pound the ends of their forks and knives against the table, and despite all the strained quips during the feast, the overall experience had been good and merry, so it wasn't too long before plates were flying and dwarves were singing.

Blunt the knives bend the forks!

Smash the bottles and burn the corks!

Chip the glasses and crack the plates!

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates -

Only he didn't. The hobbit shook his head with the air of someone amused at a group of overexcited children and quaintly finished his ale.

Cut the cloth tread on the fat!

Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!

Pour the milk on the pantry floor!

Splash the wine on every door!

But of course they did none of those things, instead gathering up the tableware in tall piles, each with a bottle of ale mug on top. Nori was participating in the whole thing, but still had a free eye to glance at Bilbo from time to time.

What he saw almost made him stumble and cause a horrible disaster. There, right in front of Bilbo Baggins, were all the best plates neatly stacked on top of one another.

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;

Pound them up with a thumping pole;

And when you've finished, if they are whole,

Send them down the hall to roll!

Dori, totally caught up in the process that only Thorin and Gandalf had stayed out of (the hobbit notwithstanding) reached out to grab one of the plates that their host had surreptitiously snatched out of the air at whatever point.

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!

A hobbit's hand came down in a hammer fist upon the searching hand of the dwarf with surprising force. Dori's palm made a muffled splat against the wood, and the noise suddenly halted the antics of everyone. Utterly unperturbed by being the center of attention, Bilbo Baggins sent the strongest dwarf in the company a very sweet smile. "This is my late mother's china, and I am very fond of it, Master Dwarf." He uncoiled his fist and let his palm rest on the far end of the steak knife. The steak knife that had gone between Dori's fingers and into the tough wood below. "I may be convinced to let you include them in your merrymaking, but if you put even a scratch on them I will not be held responsible if any of you end up smothered in your sleep tonight."

Beside Nori, Dwalin made a noise resembling a wounded puppy.

Fili and Kili both gaped, piles of dishware still held aloft in both hands.

"Although I suppose that friendly warning could easily turn irrelevant if you decided it suited you better to seek lodgings at the inn instead." The hobbit heaved at the knife a few times to pull it out (mercy, had it gone so far in?) and stood smoothly. His armchair slid back to allow him easy movement. And it must have moved on its own, because the short creature couldn't have pushed it back, at least not that easily. "Not that I would suggest or desire it. After all, all of you whom I welcomed into my home tonight have been excellent company."

Nori blinked, eyes flicking from Dori's pale and stunned face to the serene visage of the curly-haired halfling. With that, he'd essentially excluded Thorin from his statement of goodwill because he hadn't welcomed the dwarf inside. The King had invited himself in.

Given Thorin's barely concealed anger, he had caught the jab as well.

"Besides!" The hobbit scooped up his prized plates in a single hand, smiling at them all (except Thorin). "I need these to bring in the desert!"

Oh, he was good.