Disclaimer: The Hobbit, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkien's estate, and Warner Brothers, New Line Cinema, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and WingNut Films.

Bofur's Hobbit

"What is that?"

Bofur glanced up at his ma standing behind him, a suspicious frown on her face.

"Doesn't look like any dwarf toy I've ever seen before…," she murmured.

The dwarfling turned his gaze back to the toy in his hands before tilting his head far back to look up at the old man robed in grey, a large open sack at his feet, surrounded by dwarf children.

Despite many of the little ones loudly demanding his attention or offering thanks for their gifts, the big person looked up and met the dwarf dame's glare. His eyes twinkled and Bofur could just make out a smile in the midst of the impressive beard as the man glanced back and forth at Bofur's ma and the gift.

"Ah! That would be one of my special creations, ma'am," he explained in a rough voice, bowing his head deeply. Giggles filled the air as his tall grey hat threatened to fall off.

"Huh." The frown on the dwarf woman's face relaxed, but she remained uncertain.

Bofur peered at his toy, awe and curiosity shining in his eyes. He took in the lack of armor, the short legs, the big and furry feet, and the beardless face.

"He looks funny!" he exclaimed with a laugh.

The big person chuckled. "He is what is known as a hobbit."

"Hobb-it," Bofur repeated, holding the toy out and returning its smile with his own bright one.

"Perhaps ye ought to exchange it for a more appropriate toy," his ma said, reaching out for the toy.

Bofur danced away, clutching the plush toy protectively to his chest, darting a look of betrayal at her. "But, Ma, he's perfect!" he protested, pouting.

Her eyebrows shot up toward her hairline. "He's a silly fellow."

"I love him!" Bofur proclaimed, hugging the hobbit closer and nuzzling the curls on his head.

His ma took the toy away. Confronted with Bofur silently staring at her, his bottom lip quivering while his wide eyes filled with tears, she reluctantly handed it back, permitting him to keep the toy. Watching the dwarfling rock the plushie back and forth, the picture of contentment, she could only shake her head.

And again when tucking Bofur into bed, hobbit plushie in his arms, as he whispered sleepily, "Good night, Berilac Bracegirdle."

"Gandalf!" Bilbo huffed, dragging his gaze from the pile of dwarves that had fallen through his door to the wizard who appeared much too calm for his liking.

But he promptly forgot about the wizard in question when a dwarf wearing a ridiculous furry hat managed to get to his feet and faced him. The hobbit blinked at the startled look that passed over the dwarf's face before swiftly transforming into recognition and delight. Bilbo's eyes widened as his shoulders were grasped by warm, strong hands; it was only the dwarf's grip on him which prevented him from tumbling backward when their foreheads knocked firmly together. The hobbit's groan of pain cut off as his face was buried into a solid chest as he was tightly embraced. Yelping, completely astonished, Bilbo felt his feet leave the ground as he was twirled in a quick circle. Once back on his feet, he stumbled back a step or two, a bit dizzy and a great deal mystified as he looked up into the dwarf's merry face.

"Bofur, at yer service, Berilac Bracegirdle!"

Bilbo's jaw dropped, and he gawked at the dwarf's retreating back as he went to greet his friends.

The next few hours were a whirlwind that battered the hobbit's poor nerves. Yet he was not as offended nor as fussy as he could have been in light of the state of his pantry, the dwarves' rough manners, and Thorin Oakenshield's distain. This was due mostly to the many glimpses Bilbo had of the merry dwarf – a complete stranger – who constantly looked at him with inexplicable delight, called him "Berilac," and actually helped rein in his companions a little. So the hobbit concluded this was the reason why, instead of shutting himself up in his bedroom and leaving the dwarves to their own devices, he stayed. As he listened and watched, a confused frown touched his face whenever he focused on the dwarf with the furry hat.

Though he would never admit it, this mystery regarding the cheery dwarf's behavior and the longing to have it explained was the deciding factor for him; and before retiring for the night, the hobbit signed the contract, furnace-with-wings be hanged! Tugging on the braces of his suspenders, he straightened to his full height as the dwarves cast him a mixture of grateful and distrustful looks. When the hatted dwarf winked at him, for the first time Bilbo smiled back.

THE END