— Third-Person Point of View —
— Rivendell, the area where the dwarves are staying —
The dwarves' quarters had finally fallen silent. Bombur lay on the floor, snoring deeply, as if he had never gone mad at all. His face was covered with various swellings and bruises, and the backs of his hands were smeared with dried blood. Dwalin sat on the bed, breathing deeply, trying to steady himself. Gloin and Fili were still sitting on the floor in shock, attempting to process what had just happened. Balin stared curiously at the plump dwarf lying on the ground, yet there was unmistakable respect in his eyes. Bofur lay unconscious in the corner of the room, while Ori was trying to wake him.
"Bofur! Wake up already!"
Thorin stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest, brows furrowed, radiating authority.
"Someone explain to me what happened here."
Just as everyone was about to speak at once, Thorin raised his hand and looked at Ori.
"Explain."
Ori nodded and explained the situation. Thorin's eyebrows rose.
"So Bombur had a nightmare and couldn't fully wake up from it, went mad, and started seeing everyone as food. Gloin was a purple onion, Fili was a wild carrot, and you were celery."
After nodding, Ori added,
"And Dwalin was Count Broccoli."
Thorin turned to Dwalin in astonishment. Dwalin, glaring angrily at Ori and the others, spoke.
"If I hear the word 'broccoli' from any of you, that person will be my training partner for the next year—and I won't hold back at all!"
All the dwarves except Thorin and Balin nodded rapidly. Thorin, meanwhile, looked curiously at his nephew and Gloin.
"And Bombur defeated both of you, is that right?"
Fili nodded.
"I've never experienced anything like this before, Uncle. Bombur was incredibly agile for someone so plump. He lifted me up, spun me around in the air, and threw me at Gloin!"
Gloin nodded and spoke in disbelief.
"We tried to stop him without hurting him, but Bombur truly surprised us, Thorin. I never realized we had such a warrior in the group! He threw Dwalin over his shoulder!"
Thorin was stunned, and Balin was outright shocked. Both of them looked at Dwalin. Dwalin said a single word.
"True."
Balin murmured in disbelief.
"By Durin's beard…"
Thorin looked down at Bombur lying on the floor. Even he was surprised. No one knew Dwalin better than Thorin and Balin—except perhaps their lost father, Thráin. That Bombur had managed to push Dwalin this far was astonishing. He looked at his friend with curiosity.
"Why did you struggle so much, Dwalin?"
Dwalin sighed.
"At first, I went easy on him. But Bombur surprised me with his strength and agility. I never expected that plump cook to fight like that. I underestimated him, and that's why he pushed me so hard. Even when I got serious, it was difficult to take him down. Subduing someone without killing them—especially a dwarf in a frenzy—is no easy task. Bombur's fat-laden body softened the impact of my punches. It felt like I was fighting a crazed bear. My blows didn't fully land, and he was incredibly agile—agile enough to catch my punch mid-air."
With that explanation, Thorin and Balin were even more astonished. Dwalin chuckled.
"I've never had such an absurd and ridiculous fight in my life… No matter how much I rack my brain or imagine insane scenarios, I doubt I'd ever come up with something as ridiculous as today's fight. Honestly, I'm not even sure whether I'm dreaming or not."
He looked at Bombur, who was sleeping peacefully, his face covered in bruises, and continued.
"To be honest, it was a very entertaining morning workout. If Bombur fought like this all the time, I'd never get bored."
Thorin sighed. He too was still processing the absurdity of the situation. At that moment, Bofur slowly opened his eyes. His head wobbled a few times as he looked around groggily, trying to remember what had happened. When he saw Bombur sleeping on the floor, he jumped up in terror, drawing everyone's attention. The moment he spotted Thorin, Bofur darted behind him at lightning speed and hid there. Thorin stared blankly at Bofur in confusion.
"What are you doing?"
Bofur spoke, trembling.
"THORIN! PLEASE PROTECT ME! BOMBUR TRIED TO EAT ME! HE WAS CALLING ME A STEAK! THERE'S A CANNIBAL IN THE GROUP!"
After a few seconds of silence, everyone burst out laughing. Even Thorin chuckled and spoke calmly.
"Then you're in the wrong place, Bofur. Bombur didn't even stop when I arrived—Dwalin knocked him out."
Bofur stared in shock at Dwalin's bruised face, then at Bombur sleeping on the floor, and made his decision.
"Thorin! I want to sleep in the same room as Dwalin! There's no way I can sleep at night with Bombur! My life won't be safe! What if he gnaws on my arm one night?!"
Dwalin was stunned. Everyone except Thorin laughed. Thorin raised an eyebrow and looked at Bofur. At that moment, Ori spoke cautiously.
"Thorin… I would like to make the same request."
Dwalin's shock intensified, and he immediately shouted.
"Absolutely not! Go find another room!"
Balin began laughing. Dwalin looked helplessly at his brother. When Balin laughed, Gloin and Fili couldn't hold it in anymore and joined in. Dwalin's face darkened. Thorin sighed and spoke.
"Request denied, but I'll try to arrange extra rooms for you. It would be best if Bombur sleeps alone for a while."
Balin raised an eyebrow and spoke in an amused tone.
"Are you sure, Thorin?"
Thorin looked at his former mentor and asked,
"What do you mean?"
Balin chuckled.
"What if Bombur goes into another frenzy and wanders outside to attack the Elves? Or if he can't get out of bed because of his injuries and storms into Bifur and Nori's room to attack them? How many people could restrain a frenzy that even Dwalin struggled to suppress?"
Thorin turned to look at Bombur sleeping on the floor and sank into deep thought. Dwalin shuddered and muttered,
"I have a bad feeling about this…"
Thorin sighed and spoke.
"…I can't believe I'm dealing with something this ridiculous…"
And he looked at Dwalin.
"Dwalin, you, Gloin, and Balin will sleep in the same room as Bombur! Even if the chance is low, it's better not to take any risks."
Dwalin froze in disbelief, then slapped his own face lightly before dragging his hand down over it, covering his eyes. With a deep sigh, he finally accepted his fate.
"…Fine. I accept… This morning is getting more ridiculous by the minute…"
As Balin chuckled, Dwalin shot him a sharp glare—then suddenly grinned as an idea struck him.
"I think having a wise dwarf like Balin with us would be extremely useful. He could wake Bombur in… gentler ways."
Balin blinked in surprise, while Thorin nodded in agreement.
"I agree. Balin, you should support your brother."
Balin stared at his brother in astonishment and spoke slowly.
"I never expected such a sly tactic from you… It seems my brother is still growing."
Fíli, relieved that he was no longer a potential victim, let out a quiet breath. Just then, Bombur suddenly pushed himself into a sitting position, jolting awake, and the room tensed instantly. Even though Dwalin remained seated, his body was coiled, ready to leap at Bombur at the slightest sign of danger. Thorin, however, merely watched him calmly.
Bombur yawned widely, rubbing his eyes as he looked around sleepily. The moment he noticed Thorin, he jumped to his feet with respect.
"Thorin! Why are you in my room? Ori, Bofur—why didn't you wake me? Our king has come!"
A collective sigh of relief filled the room. Bombur was back to normal. Everyone relaxed—everyone except Dwalin, who felt a hint of disappointment. It had been a long time since he'd fought another dwarf so fiercely with his bare hands. Part of him wouldn't have minded a little more.
Bombur winced and touched his face.
"Why does my face hurt?"
He pressed his fingers to his split lip, then stared at the blood on his hand in shock.
"What happened to my face?"
After thinking hard, his expression turned to horror.
"Don't tell me… did I bite my own lip?!"
Then he noticed something else and frowned.
"But my eye hurts too…"
The dwarves burst into laughter at his confusion. Only Dwalin and Thorin merely smiled while the others laughed openly. Once the room settled, Balin asked calmly:
"Bombur, what's the last thing you remember?"
Bombur looked at him in confusion.
"Why do you ask?"
Balin chuckled.
"We're just curious."
Bombur glanced at Thorin, surprised. Thorin nodded slightly, and Bombur, taking that as permission, folded his arms and thought seriously.
"Hmmm… I was dreaming…"
Balin leaned forward with interest.
"What kind of dream?"
Bombur thought carefully. Then his mouth watered, and he spoke with longing and deep passion.
"I was holding a huge, juicy, greasy steak—almost as big as me!"
Bofur shuddered and edged closer to Dwalin. Dwalin glared at him.
"Stay away from me."
Bofur pretended not to hear, whistling innocently while looking elsewhere. Dwalin sighed and focused back on Bombur—he didn't have the energy to deal with Bofur right now.
Bombur continued, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He clenched his fist and raised it dramatically.
"But there were two bandits trying to steal my steak—one was a wild carrot, and the other a purple onion!"
Fíli and Glóin's faces darkened. Balin struggled to hold back laughter, while Thorin listened with a blank expression, unsure how to feel about his nephew being described as a vegetable. Even for him, this was new. Dwalin, however, began to snicker.
Bombur pressed on with deadly seriousness.
"I fought them! I defended my steak to the very end! I was about to finish them off—when a sneaky celery attacked me from behind!"
Ori swallowed hard and quietly slid closer to Dwalin. Dwalin's expression collapsed.
"Not again! Stay away from me!"
Ori whistled innocently, ignoring him. Thorin pretended not to notice and continued listening.
Bombur spoke as if reciting an epic, using his hands to heighten the drama.
"But I grabbed that celery and threw him off my back! Yet the sneaky vegetable called for reinforcements… my most terrifying enemy! Count Broccoli!"
Dwalin's face darkened as the dwarves fought desperately to suppress their laughter. Even Thorin allowed himself a faint smile. Dwalin growled sharply:
"Don't forget what I said! Don't push your luck!"
With great effort, the dwarves fell silent. Bombur, completely absorbed in his tale, continued.
"I fought him fiercely, like a true dwarf should! Our battle was brutal—he was incredibly strong!"
Suddenly, Bombur's posture changed. His eyes filled with deep respect. The dwarves stared in confusion, while Thorin felt an inexplicable sense of dread.
Bombur continued, drooling slightly, his voice heavy with reverence and exaggerated drama.
"Then, in the middle of our fight… I saw him. My focus wavered—and Count Broccoli defeated me!"
Balin asked cautiously:
"Who did you see?"
Bombur answered with overwhelming hunger, admiration, and passion.
"The Great Meat King!"
The room's atmosphere shifted instantly. Thorin's face darkened, while everyone except Bombur struggled violently not to laugh. They all knew exactly who Bombur meant by the Great Meat King.
Balin, unconcerned, burst into uncontrollable laughter—he was the only one who dared, being Thorin's former teacher.
Thorin's expression grew even darker as Balin dropped to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Dwalin clenched his jaw with immense effort to keep from laughing, while the others covered their mouths, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Thorin's voice cut through the room like steel.
"ENOUGH!"
Bombur tilted his head in confusion.
"Why are you laughing?"
Thorin replied coldly.
"Never mind. It's nothing important."
Balin only laughed harder—so hard his face turned purple, and he forgot to breathe, breaking into coughing.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—COUGHCOUGH!"
Ori panicked, grabbed a glass of water from the table, and rushed to Balin's side. After drinking, Balin finally caught his breath.
"Thank you, lad. I don't think I've laughed this much in my entire life."
Just then, Bilbo entered the room, a cloth tied around his head and an apron wrapped around his waist. Noticing the strange atmosphere, he asked curiously.
"What are you doing?"
Thorin and Dwalin spoke at the same time.
"We're doing nothing." ×2
They shot sharp glares at everyone in the room, and silence immediately fell. After clearing his throat, Bofur spoke.
"We're having a morning meeting. Thorin requested it."
Thorin nodded in confirmation and looked at Bilbo.
"What is it, Bilbo?"
Bilbo, recalling why he had come, spoke.
"Thorin, we need men to carry the food prepared for breakfast. Halt already gave me five men, but it's not enough. The rest are scattered across different parts of Rivendell. Could you spare me a few more?"
The Dwarves looked surprised. At the mention of breakfast, Bombur's face turned pale green. Dwalin asked in a mocking tone,
"So those long-ears aren't bringing us breakfast?"
Bilbo shook his head.
"No, that's not it. Today, Igris prepared the breakfast. Since cooking took up the morning, the attendants were sent to serve Lord Elrond and his family. Igris decided we should handle our own matters instead of calling the Elves, so he chose people from our group and sent me."
The Dwarves reacted with pleasant surprise, but Bombur snorted like an enraged bull and suddenly grabbed Bilbo's hand with both of his own, staring at him with blazing eyes.
"What did you say, Bilbo?! Say that again! Who prepared the breakfast?!"
Caught off guard, Bilbo answered cautiously.
"Uh… Igris…"
Bombur's eyes filled with hope as if he had glimpsed salvation. Then, snorting fiercely, he charged forward like a raging bull and bolted out of the room—his destination clear: the Elven kitchen. As he ran, his excited voice echoed through the corridor.
"REAL FOOOOOOOD!"
Ori and Bofur snapped out of their shock and immediately chased after him.
"BOMBUR, WAIT FOR US!"
"YES! DON'T EAT EVERYTHING!"
Fili and Gloin also recovered and ran after them.
"HEY, WAIT FOR US!"
"DON'T FINISH IT ALL! LEAVE SOME FOR US!"
Bilbo stood there, staring after the Dwarves in stunned silence. He hadn't expected this reaction. Apparently, the Dwarves had truly been living in famine. Balin stroked his beard with satisfaction.
"This morning is full of pleasant surprises."
Thorin looked at Bilbo and asked,
"Is Igris truly well?"
Bilbo shrugged.
"According to him, yes. His arm has returned to normal. He looked perfectly fine to me."
Dwalin burst into laughter.
"HAHAHAHA! I TOLD YOU HE'D BE FINE."
Thorin nodded.
"Let's go then. Let's see what we're eating this morning."
Dwalin and Balin nodded as well. Just as they were about to leave, Balin stopped, flashed a mischievous grin, and gave a deep, exaggerated bow.
"After you, Your Countship."
Dwalin's face darkened instantly. The veins on his forehead bulged as he snorted thick steam from his nose like a furious bull.
"Don't push your luck and make me spill brother's blood, Balin."
Balin chuckled.
"As you wish, Your Countship."
Dwalin snapped.
"BALIN!"
But Balin only laughed and walked out the door, ignoring him completely. Dwalin continued forward in a fury, muttering something about skinning a Dwarf alive. Bilbo, unsettled by the strange scene, silently looked at Thorin.
"What did I miss?"
Thorin sighed and shrugged.
"Just a Dwarven morning that's slightly above average in chaos."
Bilbo nodded, and the two moved on.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Igris was speaking with Bamsı and Doğan.
"Did anything important happen while I was unconscious?"
Doğan shook his head.
"Just minor issues. Halt and Gilan handled everything."
Igris nodded and looked at Bamsı, who was rapidly devouring Potato patties. Igris sighed.
"Bamsı, we should eat together with everyone. Don't eat everything."
With his mouth full, Bamsı looked at Igris in surprise, swallowed, and spoke.
"But my lord, it's incredibly delicious—and because of Bombur, we might not get any."
Igris rolled his eyes.
"Do you think I forgot him? I prepared a special portion enough for ten people just for Bombur. Eating together brings people closer—be patient—"
BAM!
"WHERE'S THE FOOOOOOD?!"
Everyone in the kitchen jumped in shock. Doğan and Bamsı—still with a Potato patties in his mouth—immediately took defensive stances. Others nearly dropped what they were holding. Igris stared blankly at the door as Bombur stood there, scanning the room like a hunter. When Igris noticed the injuries on Bombur's face, he was startled.
"Bombur, what happened to your face?"
Bombur looked at Igris as if gazing upon a great savior. That intense, reverent gratitude made Igris shiver; he stepped behind Bamsı and asked,
"Are you… alright?"
Bombur rapidly scanned the room.
"Where is it?!"
Doğan asked curiously.
"Where is what, Bombur?"
Bombur took a deep breath and sniffed the air.
"Real food."
His eyes suddenly locked onto the meatball in Bamsı's mouth. In a cold, terrifying, and dangerously calm voice, he asked,
"Bamsı… what is that in your mouth?"
The stunned warrior Bamsı shoved the Potato patties. fully into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and replied,
"Potato patties."
Bombur snorted.
"Did Igris make them?"
Igris twitched an eye.
'Does it really matter if I cooked it, man…?'
Bamsı nodded.
"Yes."
Bombur's eyes narrowed.
"Are they good?"
Bamsı stared at Bombur strangely for a moment, then gestured toward the plates piled with meatballs.
"See for yourself."
Bombur looked from Bamsı to Doğan, then to Igris. His eyes were deadly serious. He stepped forward to the plates, picked up a meatball, and examined it carefully. He scanned his surroundings, checked its greasiness with his finger—causing Igris's eyebrow to twitch.
'He looks like a MasterChef food critic…'
After sniffing it carefully, Bombur looked at Igris.
"Did you use eggs and spices?"
Igris nodded. Bombur tossed the Potato patties into his mouth, chewing slowly, analyzing. His face shifted repeatedly—first frowning, then smiling, then frowning again, then smiling once more. Finally, he relaxed, swallowed, and spoke with shining eyes as tears streamed down his face.
"This… is real food!"
Bombur's hands moved like a storm, stuffing his mouth relentlessly. Igris, Doğan, Bamsı, and the others watched the plump Dwarf in stunned silence. Bamsı looked at Igris in disbelief. Igris nodded.
"I will never stand between him and his food. It's like standing between a hungry lion and its prey…"
Doğan nodded.
"I agree… My lord Igris, will what you prepared be enough?"
Igris crossed his arms and thought.
"…I'm not sure."
---
( 3074 Words)