Masterfully Miscommunicated (II)

Kili would be lying if he said that wanting to get away (for a while) from the expectations of acting as "befitting" an Heir of the Durin line didn't play any part in his decision to join his uncle on this mad quest.

A quest to reclaim a mountain, and slay a dragon.

But it was only one reason of many, and not even the main one. No, the main one was that he wanted to finally do something to repay his uncle and mother for everything they went through while raising him. And, okay, Fili too, but mostly he was the one that sought mischief when they were little, while Fili kept curbing the worst of his impulses while acting as though he was egging him on.

Kili doubted Thorin even now knew Fili had never actually planned any of their unruly behavior when they were children.

He also doubted Thorin knew how sorry Kili was for all the messes he caused as a dwarfling. Now, with the wisdom of age (though his mother would probably laugh at the idea he was anywhere resembling old and wise, and not just because he barely had a stubble) he could look back on those early days and know how often Thorin and Dis had trouble making enough money to get by. He could recognize the instances when the adults told them to go ahead and eat without them because they had people to meet or some last minute work to do. There were never such loose ends but Thorin and Dis didn't want them to know they were rationing the food they ate so he and Fili wouldn't have to.

History had dealt the dwarves a harsh hand, which meant that if they were to ever regain anything of what they'd lost they'd have to do it themselves.

So Kili had badgered and pestered and argued with those older than him until they relented and let him leave the Blue Mountains with the others. Well, the ones that happened to be there at the time anyway, since some were already on business on the other side of Eriador. He felt guilty for feeling glad that so few had answered Thorin's call. He was sure he and Fili would have been left behind if more dwarves had actually come forward.

As it was, the only ones that were warriors by profession were Dwalin, Dori, Thorin, Balin, Thorin of course, and the two of them, the youngest in the company. Well, Bifur too, never mind the axe head stuck in his… head, but anyway, their group was otherwise a company of bakers, toymakers, scribes, artists, crooks…

Kili knew Balin didn't have faith in this quest, that he thought it was wiser to stay in the Blue mountains. Thorin had managed to finally secure a life of comfort and plenty for them, and Kili agreed that it was better than how it used to be, and it was good not to have to be on the road all the time, dependent on Men and whatever business they could offer, assuming they even were willing to deal with dwarves in the first place.

But Thorin had sent a call. He'd even gotten an envoy from the Iron hills to come. Lord Dain Ironfoot himself, his cousin. And so Balin had gone against his pessimism and joined in, like the rest of them.

Thorin had doubts too, Kili knew. Sure, Gandalf had given him the key of King Thrain (and Kili's stomach still turned at the thought of his grandfather tortured by that dark force in Dol Guldur until he didn't even remember his own name). But Tharkûn refused to share more unless they followed his lead and met up in the Shire, of all places, to find a burglar, of all things.

Nori had grumbled for days, wondering why he wasn't good enough. Kili had wondered too.

But the wizard was wily. He had a way with words, and the way he acted, as though he felt entitled to having his opinion heard and his direction followed without question, was a lot like Thorin sometimes. And he was damn intimidating too.

And in the end, they all shared the same opinion, that the wizard was needed to deal with the dragon, so they may as well see what his whole idea about a hobbit burglar was all about. No matter how skeptical, rightfully or otherwise, they felt about the entire business. After all, what could the gentle folk know of adventure? What did hobbits know of burglary?

The Shire seemed to reinforce their doubts.

Then they finally found Bag End.

A hole in the ground.

A ludicrously cozy hole in the ground that made them feel more at home than they did anywhere beside the Blue Mountains, because things all around them were finally the right size.

And it was alive. So alive that Dwalin, big, mean, old, gruff, train-you-until-you-die-and-your-bruises-have-bruises-Dwalin was acting skittish as if he expected some sort of ghost to jump at him from the shadows.

It was surreal.

Then they met Bilbo Baggins.

Sitting at the table now and inhaling food like there was no tomorrow, Kili felt absolutely giddy. Giddy at the homely feel of the hobbit-hole, awed at the shocking amount of different, delicious dishes, happy with how upbeat everyone seemed to be, and how united they were in their opinion that Dwalin's skittishness was hilarious.

Amazed at the fact that they were currently inside a house that was apparently alive.

And absolutely relieved that they had living and breathing evidence that the trip all the way up here hadn't been a waste of time, because more than any of them, more than what even Gandalf had expected, they were going to get what they came for. None of them would be disappointed, none would have to worry taking the hobbit along would be a mistake, because Bilbo Baggins was totally, positively, absolutely, undeniably too awesome for words-

Something struck the front door three times, loud and hard.

The noise echoed loudly through the house. Ominously, some might say, and the twelve dwarves at the table (Bombur had finally joined them not long before) abruptly stilled, some with food half-way into their mouths.

But Bilbo Baggins, who was in the process of distributing trays loaded with fried chicken legs, didn't seem to care about the knock. He slipped the last tray suspiciously close to Ori, who was squashed between his brothers, then stepped back from the table. Kili noted that the Hobbit still looked completely spotless, despite not having taken the normal precautions while cooking.

"I was wondering when he'd finally knock," the hobbit said absently, stretching.

"He is here." Gandalf rumbled ominously from where he'd suddenly materialized right outside the dining room entrance.

"I know." Kili's eyebrows shot up when Bilbo reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a small, round, shiny silver object, tied by a chain. "He's been outside for…" A short squeeze made the top lid swing open with a soft click. "Huh. 20 minutes now."

"Indeed?" Gandalf murmured, seemingly just as interested in the object Bilbo was studying as Kili was.

Bilbo returned the item to his pocket and swept out of the room. "He's been sitting on the bench." The hobbit didn't seem to care about the company of dwarves skulking in his wake. "Heavens know why." From his tone, glib and self-assured, Kili rather suspected the Halfling had made his own opinion already.

Kili shared a somewhat concerned glance with his brother.

Bilbo Baggins reached the door and grabbed the brass knob located right at the middle of it.

The round, green door opened inward, and Bilbo Baggins leaned against the edge as his eyes finally landed on the black-haired, blue-eyed dwarf beyond the threshold. There he was, his uncle, in all his heavily armored, braided-haired, short-bearded glory. His dark blue fur coat only added to his great, majestic aura.

Kili held his breath.

And his uncle chose that, of all times, to put his foot in his mouth. "Gandalf." He'd barely even looked at Bilbo. He hadn't even acknowledged him, sweeping his gaze past him instead, to look at the wizard. "You said this place would be easy to find." Then he grandly strode into the house, not sparing Bilbo even a glance. "I got lost. Twice." And, obviously, it was not his fault at all, was what his tone implied. "I would not even have found it if not for that sign on the door."

Kili, to his surprise, found himself growing uncomfortable. He'd never had a problem with Thorn acting like he owned the place, because, technically, in the Blue Mountains he did own the place, sort of…

But by the gleam in Bilbo's eyes, the youngest prince was pretty sure his uncle had well and truly made a horrible first impression.

Gandalf cleared his throat. Was he uncomfortable? And was it just Kili's imagination, or did the light of the candlesticks get just a bit dimmer? "Bilbo Baggins, may I introduce you to the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

And, naturally, Thorin had to slap on that haughty smile and look down on their host from the get-go. "So. This is the hobbit." The word sounded like an insult.

Kili almost missed the way Bilbo's eyes flashed, but he didn't know what that emotion was. He just knew it wasn't anything good.

With an almost careless push, Bilbo closed the door.

And the King Under the Mountain (to be) began to circle him, slowly. And Kili wanted to palm his face. This wasn't supposed to become an interrogation! "Tell me mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?" As if he was stalking an enemy. Bemusedly, the black-haired, nearly beardless dwarf saw Dwalin making halting, almost frantic movements from the corner of his eye. Sadly, Thorin had his back to them.

Damn.

"Pardon me?" And Bilbo didn't even try to turn around, though he did tilt his head, and his eyes went distant for a moment, just as the candle light flickered again, though the flames did not waver in the least.

Not good.

"Axe or sword. What is your weapon of choice?" It was clear to them all that Thorin had already reached an opinion about their host, and it was not at all high.

Not good, not good at all.

Bilbo shook his head and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow when the dwarf finally ended up in front of him once more. "Well, I do happen to be fairly good at conkers, if you must know."

Kili couldn't see his uncle smirk, but he knew he'd done it anyway. It was clear in his voice. "Thought as much." Then he half-turned to share his grand joke with them. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

For that half a second while Thorin was looking at them, Bilbo's eyes narrowed.

Then his face smoothed into the perfect mask of placidity, not responding to the derisive amusement that Thorin Oakenshield aimed at him. The King Under the Mountain slowly turned away from him to head in the direction of the dining room, as if he owned the place-

Only to suddenly trip and fall on his face as soon as he made to go through the closest alcove.

Kli gaped, not so much at the fall but at the squawk that his uncle produced when he lost his balance and tripped on the edge of the carpet that had been perfectly smooth and stretched until that point. The prince heard more than saw Dwalin drop his head and rub his eyes. And Bifur's muttered Khuzdul left him torn between hysterics and mortification.

"Are you alright, master dwarf?" Kili's eyes snapped around, shocked to see that Bilbo had disappeared from the hallway. He'd somehow snuck around them all and ended up on the inside of the room during the short commotion. "That was quite the fall." His words of concern rung with a genuineness that everyone somehow knew was totally fake. He was standing over the fallen form the dwarf. "I won't pry into your business, since we Hobbits are very clear on privacy and manners, you see." Kili winced at the direct jab. "But you have been sitting on my bench for near half an hour now, for whatever reason. Have the rain and night chill gotten to you? I can brew an excellent tea for the cold if you have one."

Thorin, who had climbed to his feet with as much composure as he could scrounge together after that embarrassing display, seemed to be doing his best not to glare too obviously. "That won't be necessary." Kili was amazed his teeth didn't shoot sparks, with how tightly they were grinding together.

"Oh." Was all Bilbo said. "Okay then." After which the hobbit promptly turned on his heel (thus totally dismissing the presence of the newest arrival) and marched through the sitting room and another hallway until he reached the dining room and casually sat himself at the head of the table, putting together a plate worthy of royalty without paying mind to anyone else.

Kili wondered when Bilbo had had the time to drag his armchair there.

Not much later, Thorin pointedly took the seat at the other end of the table, the one that put the round window and the merrily blazing hearth at his back. Bag End seemed to have lots of those.

With a cringe, Kili, son of Dis, shared a worried look with his more fair-haired brother, who looked no less pained than himself.

Both of them had been sure that things would go oh so well between their uncle and their burglar.

Fat chance.