Chapter Text
Rivendell was a strange place. The buildings were all made of stone, but carved in a way so unlike a Dwarven settlement. It had its own beauty, sure, but in an almost decorative way. Nice to look at, but not good for much else. Rather like the hobbit King Thorin had hired to try and steal the Arkenstone from a damn dragon, but Bofur didn't want to voice his doubts. He liked Bilbo Baggins, fussy little thing that he was, and thought him a good new friend. It helped that he seemed eager to communicate with Bifur despite his disabilities, shared Bombur's passion for good food, and didn't judge any of them for being visibly poorer than the rest of the company. If anything, Baggins connected with Bofur and his family easier than any of the other dwarves. Bofur had thought Baggins would get along smashingly with Dori and Balin, but any conversations Baggins tried to have with them seemed a bit stilted. Bofur wasn't complaining. He was more than happy to befriend the little burglar.
Bombur clearly had the same idea, as he and Baggins were happily chatting about cooking techniques while munching on the piles of leaves and vegetables the Rivendell elves called "dinner".
"Our mother used to make the most wonderful food," Bombur said, popping a little bit of something red into his mouth. Bofur thought it was a pepper. "My favourite, I think, is a rather simple dish she made all the time. Thinly sliced potatoes fried in oil, topped with cheese curds and a hot beef gravy. I tell you, Master Baggins, there's nothing more comforting!"
"That sounds lovely," Baggins said, smiling. "Truly, I've found that some of the best dishes are the simplest. My father used to make the best sheppard’s pie, and I once ate it for two weeks straight as a child! Never put me off of it, though, for which I am very grateful."
Bombur laughed, and Bofur smiled. It warmed his heart to see his brother so cheerful. Dinner wound down not too much later, and the Company started to spread out a bit. King Thorin, Balin, the wizard, and an elf got up and went off together. The wizard tried to get Baggins to come along, but the hobbit waved them off. Instead, he got up to wander around a bit, but didn't stray too far. He went up to the little band of elves, and started talking to them. Bofur couldn't hear what he was saying, but one of the elves shrugged and handed over the fiddle he was playing.
It looked almost too big for Baggins, but he held it securely enough. He played a few notes, seemingly to test it out, then started playing. It was a jaunty little tune, faster and more cheerful than the slow song the elves were playing, and much more to Bofur's taste. Some of the elves clearly knew the song, as they joined in with their own instruments. Baggins seemed cheered by this, and was swaying along to the music and tapping one of his furry feet to the rhythm.
The Company noticed the change in music, obviously, and a few got up to dance. Nori led Ori in a dance that had far too many dips and spins, but Ori was laughing and Dori didn't mind, so who cared? Dori himself was being led in a dance with Óin, and seemed very pleased. Fíli and Kíli were prodding Dwalin into dancing, and though he grumbled about it, the old stone got off his arse to dance. Kíli ditched them in favour of trying to get some of the elves loitering around to join him. Two of the younger looking ones that Bofur had seen sitting with Lord Elrond were happy to join Kíli, no matter that they towered over him. The three of them seemed determined to find a way to mix their cultural styles.
Bofur stayed seated. No one had asked him to dance, and he didn’t fancy doing so alone. He did pull out his wooden flute, though, turning it in his hands. He was tempted to join the band, but hesitated. He didn't know the song, and while the elves seemed happy to have the hobbit with them, he wasn't sure how they'd feel about a dwarf trying to play with them. Baggins looked his way, and grinned when he saw the flute. He jerked his head, and, well, Bofur couldn't ask for a more clear invitation. He got up from his seat and went over to the rest of the band. Bofur had no idea if the original song had a flute in it, but after tapping his own foot to get the beat, he started playing.
Bofur's playing mixed seamlessly with the other instruments, adding another perfect melody to the song. It seemed as though those two elf lads joining Kíli was enough for the other elves, as they had started dancing, too. It was in that odd, fae-like style elves liked, but matched the music well enough. Kíli and his elves looked to have figured themselves out. They led Kíli around, and Kíli would stomp after them, ducking under their arms. The three of them were having a great time, by the wide smiles on their faces.
The band— and, oh, by Mahal, had Bofur forgotten how nice it was to be part of a true band— played well into the night, with a few breaks for snacks and drinks. Bofur drank a sweet wine that had chunks of fruit in it, which had been infused with the wine. One of the elven musicians suggested it, and it wasn't something he'd usually pick, but it was surprisingly good. Baggins was necking some clear drink that he seemed unaffected by, but the elves were giving wary looks. Kíli, boasting about the hardiness of dwarves, threw back a shot of Baggins' drink, and almost fell over with the force of his coughing. Baggins laughed loudly, patting Kíli's shoulder.
"That's moonshine for you, lad!" the hobbit said, grinning. The only sign he'd been drinking was a rosy flush on his plump cheeks and pointed ears. "Strongest drink in the West, I'd say, and you're probably more used to sweet ciders."
Kíli, still coughing, just flashed some rude hand gestures at Baggins. Bofur snorted, and batted at Kíli's hands.
"Best not let yer uncle see those, Kíli, he'll wanna know where ye learned 'em," Bofur said. "'sides, it ain't kind, bein' mean t'someone tellin' the truth." Baggins laughed again, and now his grin was directed at Bofur. A smile like that was infectious, and Bofur couldn't help but grin back.
Even later, after Kíli, Fíli, Ori, and the two young elves had collapsed in a pile and fallen asleep, the rest of the Company decided it was time to follow in their footsteps. The rest of the elves, also somewhat drunk and now very fond of dwarves, bid them all a goodnight. They'd been given bedrooms, but they all decided to just sleep in the dining room, as none of them wanted to leave the younger ones alone or wake them up. As usual, the dwarves split off into family groups. That would have left the hobbit behind, but Bofur led him over to where Bombur and Bifur were spreading out their blankets. Bilbo— and they were certainly friends at that point, it'd be silly to deny it— didn't complain, and settled down with the three of them. He was still clutching the fiddle he'd been playing, as the elf who'd had it had gifted it to him after seeing him play it. He carefully put it aside, gently petting the strings one last time before lying down.
Warmed by good food, drinks, and company, Bofur lay next to the hobbit, both of them using his hat as a pillow, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.