Work Text:
Bilbo had been left to his own devices. Not that it was bad, not being surrounded by dwarves in the strange little tavern. Taverns were a rarity for them to be in, a roof over their head, food to be eaten and alcohol that seemed to be flowing.
“Oh for the love of the Valar not that sodding song again!”
A gruff voice called out, startling a harried fiddler.
“Well none of you uncultured lot know the lyrics to anything else! My wonderful talents going to waste because you want a voice to sing.”
“If you could sing as well as you fiddle we wouldn’t be in this predicament!”
The hobbit was reminded of the eerie resemblance the fiddler had with a particular troll they’d encountered. Actually this entire conversation had the feel of it, but, Bilbo was quick to remind himself that the Men did not wish to eat him nor had they blown their noses on him. So all in all his opinion of them was much fonder than he had of the squabbling trolls (who had in their own way reminded him a little bit of the Sackville-Bagginses).
The dwarves were still in their corner, talking (plotting, he knew their plotting faces at this point) and ignoring the people (and hobbit) around them. Finishing the rest of his pint he placed his empty mug on the counter and hopped off.
“Excuse me,” Bilbo had managed to make his way to the fiddler and his most vocal critic. “I know a great many songs. I used to talk to travelers quite a bit when I was young and if you and I think on it there may be a song we both know that they don’t.”
The fiddler looked down at Bilbo, quite perplexed as to what the hobbit was. Despite his gruffness with his critic the fiddler thought for a moment. The first song he named Bilbo didn’t know, and it went back and forth back and forth, neither angry with the other’s lack of knowledge.
“The Elfin Knight?” The fiddler finally asked and Bilbo lit up.
“I know that one! Though I’m not exactly the gender who is supposed to sing it.”
“Gender don’t matter! Just sing a sodding song and make merry!”
“You shut yer trap or I’ll shut it for you you peg legged tavern wench!”
“Glad to know my looks are appreciated!”
Bilbo eyed the two men bickering, wondering if they were brothers or married. Either were likely, though he wasn’t about to ask. With a rude gesture to his critic the fiddler began the merry tune.
If Bilbo was back in the Shire he might have danced to it. No...not really, back in the Shire he hadn’t felt like dancing for a long time. Right now though, the music sparked something happy in him.
“The elfin knight stands on yon hill
He blows his horn both loud and shrill
He stands so proud and he stands so still
Blow winds blow my bonnie o
Blow winds blow my bonnie
Blow winds blow my bonnie o
Blow winds blow my bonnie ”
There was a bit of a smile creeping across his face. It had been so long since he’d sung and found amusement in it. Perhaps it was because he was singing about a particularly attractive elf and he was in the company of dwarves. Perhaps it had been the play between the fiddler and the critic. Perhaps it was because there was still something to enjoy in life.
“If I had the knight that stands on yon mound
My true love then surely I have found
Down to the square then soon we will be bound
Blow winds blow my bonnie o
Blow winds blow my bonnie
Blow winds blow my bonnie o
Blow winds blow my bonnie ”
Bilbo didn’t know what happened. He’d been standing quite still but suddenly he found himself in a whirl of motion. It was familiar the movements, a dance, a dance from the Shire. Bilbo looked up to see Kili looking down at him, laughter in his dark eyes and mischief on his face. It had been years since Bilbo had danced like this and when he heard a flute join in, familiar and warm, he looked up long enough to see Bofur near the fiddler.
“He'll make me a dress with seams of fine thread
Make me a garland of flowers for my head
Down to the church then away we'll go to bed
Blow winds blow my bonnie o
Blow winds blow my bonnie
Blow winds blow my bonnie o
Blow winds blow my bonnie ”
There was a smattering of laughter among the patrons of the tavern at that, but there was far too much excitement in the dancing dwarf and hobbit for them to pay much heed to it. Bilbo’s face was split into a smile anyway, giddy from movement and alcohol.
“The elfin knight stands on yon hill
Blowin' his horn both loud and shrill
He stands so proud and he stands so still
Blow winds blow my bonnie o
Blow winds blow my bonnie
Blow winds blow my bonnie o
Blow winds blow my bonnie
Blow winds blow my bonnie o
Blow winds blow my bonnie”
With a flourish Bilbo and Kili stopped, breathless and full of laughter. There were cheers and calls, applause all around as Bofur called out to Bilbo.
“Nice voice you’ve got there Bilbo! Use it more often, eh?”
Kili was soon swept away by Fili and began to badger the poor fiddler for more. Dwarven voices began to ring out as songs began to fly around the tavern. Retreating to a chair Bilbo had to climb up onto it. Grabbing his now refilled glass Bilbo looked around the room now full of life and song. Then his eyes caught movement, no that was wrong, a lack of movement. Thorin sat in the corner, his lips pushed into a thin line of irritation as he stared at Bilbo intensely.
He can’t seriously be mad that I sang a song....Wait, right. It’s Thorin, he’s mad I’m breathing in his direction. Bilbo’s Tookish side grumbled.
The dwarven king’s eyes narrowed meaningfully and furiously on Biblo. The hobbit wished to throw his hands up in the air in exasperation, unsure what he’d done to anger his ex. It had just been a silly cheerful song. It wasn’t like Bilbo wished to actually dally with an elf. Thorin was quite tall enough for him, thank you. Or had been. He didn’t want anyone taller or bigger or...not Thorin-y. Not that he was allowed to admit that, but still.
Thorin was warrior enough to catch his eye and keep it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen his dwarven smith king stand on a hill and look particularly fetching. Thorin usually looked fetching. Except when he was glowering at Bilbo in such a ridiculous manner.
Quite ready to jump off his chair, ale in hand, and throw it in Thorin’s face he was suddenly picked up by Bifur.
Bilbo couldn’t help the surprised squeak that escaped him at his sudden departure from his seat. The strange dwarf (well admittedly they were all strange so that wasn’t much good in clarifying who was who) twirled Bilbo for a moment then put him down. His Tookish irritation was forgotten as he was soon caught up with dancing dwarves. Partners switching all the time and Bilbo would have said at the beginning of this adventure he would not have been able to switch between twelve different partners and they each other and everyone still manage not to trod on anyone’s toes or end up injured.
And later when he found himself pleasantly exhausted and stumbling into bed with Bofur both giggling over the lingering affects of their wild uncoordinated but still coordinated dancing he found that for the first time he was happy. The realization was shocking, strange, but not dwelled upon too long as he climbed into the bed. It was good to be among family once again after all.