7. Lunch Revisited

Bombur was miserable. Left by himself, he ate the miserable cabbage that his miserable relatives had sent for his snack, then miserably dragged himself to his own rooms. Out of habit when he was miserable, he found himself standing in front of his pantry door. It wasn’t locked, but it was empty. This was Bofur's doing, no doubt, done while the others kept him out and busy. It had been a horrible day and he desperately wanted some comfort food, so badly he could literally taste it. The empty shelves stared back at him, and the phantom pies floating before his eyes made him even more miserable.

He was turning away when something caught his eye. Something was on one of the lower shelves at the back. No one being around to watch, he lunged forward with little thought for dignity and pulled out a single currant seed-covered loaf. It was small, he thought, but no golden treasure could have looked more sweet to his eye. He fought his own inclination to inhale it in one bite and instead carried it over to his hearth to savor it as long as he could manage.

Three bites turned out to be what he could manage. He wished there were more. He wished it had been bigger. It was just a little loaf, the kind that…

Mr. Baggins, of course.

It was exactly the kind of loaf the hobbit favored as a portable sort of in-between-meals; he must have been here after Bifur and Bofur had cleaned out his pantry. No doubt the loaf was one of Bilbo's own. Bombur had to smile at that, though his normally humorous spirit had been flagging badly without his beloved meals about him.

He briefly gave himself over to a good round of self-pity, fuming about the lost food (he's paid good money for that food, they'd better not have eaten it themselves!), about the so-called exercising, about the meager rations of cabbage and carrots and pickles. About how hungry he was. He couldn't stop thinking about food.

There was a knock at his door and Bilbo pushed his way in, his hands holding a tray.

"I've brought you some lunch," he said. "I thought after all that walking you might not want to walk back to the hall." In truth, he'd decided to carry it up to keep the others away. After the way these past two days had been going, he figured a meal apart was a good thing.

Bombur visibly brightened, between the good company and the prospect of more food. "You are most welcome, Mr. Baggins. What have you got there?" He shifted to one side, clearing a place on a cluttered side-table for the covered tray.

"I'm not entirely sure, it was just handed to me when I asked. Let's have a look, shall we?" Bilbo set it down carefully, guided by Bombur's hands. Bombur lifted the cover and his cheerful face fell. Bilbo looked at it and shook his head.

A bowl of broth with a some shreds of carrot floating in it met their gaze, a small roll with a single slice of cheese, a piece of sausage and a pickle sat beside it.

"This wouldn't feed a mouse," Bilbo noted.

Bombur looked at him, the very picture of a victimized innocent. He gazed back towards his empty pantry. "They even took my pies, Mr. Baggins!"

"Yes, well. I told them that was a bad idea. I think the trouble is they've taken all of this far too seriously. In fact, they're taking it personally, as if some sort of family honour were involved but it isn't." He sat down on the footstool and poked his friend's overlapping stomach gently. "When in truth, it isn't them at all; it's you."

Bombur pursed his lips, then sighed. "But now what do I do?" He picked up the roll, cheese and sausage and popped it into his mouth in one big bite. "I meaff, I ffaid I wu twy."

Bilbo nodded. "You did try." He leaned forward and steepled his fingers on his knees thoughtfully. "So…do you want to continue?"

Bombur swallowed. "But I don't fit my belt."

Bilbo looked up from his fingers with mild consternation and surprise. "You have gold, don't you? I know you do. Have a new one made, with growing room this time. It's just a belt." He waved his hands impatiently. "Consider it paid for by the money you've saved in food these past couple of days. Look, I apologize for my own part in this, I should have kept the idea to myself, and you can even blame me if you like. I'm not even related, so your family honour doesn't matter to me."

"Eh?" that made Bombur stare at him.

"That is, it isn't that it doesn't matter, but rather that I'm technically not one of you, not a Dwarf that is. It won't hurt me if it's impugned like it would hurt you, if you know what I mean," he rattled on. "In short, blame me for the mess and be happy. I brought it up in the first place, so I accept it."

Bombur picked up the bowl of broth and drained it while he sorted this out, wiping his mouth with his sleeve for lack of a napkin. He gave a little grunt and considered the empty bowl. "I agree... and I think I see what you mean, though you could have said it better." He nudged the hobbit humorously. "No blaming of you, though, relative or not. Still, if I'm to have any peace at all with my cousins, what can I do now?"

Bilbo helped himself to the pickle. "I've an inkling. I'm not sure what a Dwarf would do, but I can tell you what a Hobbit would do…."

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