Moon-Bugs

I like combining that with the "hobbits immune to poisons" fanon, and, while Bilbo CAN feel the spice, it doesn't cause the type of, more intense, reactions it can for others.

Thorin, learning of how hobbits flirt with food, begins making uniquely dwarven meals and presenting them in a hobbity style displays of affection. Bilbo hearts-in-his-eyes Baggins takes a single bite and then asks when he'd like their wedding to be.

Thorin has the privilege of introducing Bilbo to new ingredients, and brings him to the mountain's gardens where he can see where they come from. Bilbo has been picking fruits to sample them the whole way, which of course Thorin is happy to allow. Thorin, who has been monologuing for some time now about the history of dwarven cultivation, stops walking.

"I ask that if you see a fruit which is red and curved, however, you refrain from touching it. For that is the infamous Ereborian Scythe Pepper. A single drop of its essence is enough to bring an entire army of dwarrow to their knee--"

Bilbo, who has a small collection of those very peppers in one hand and a handkerchief in his other, stops chewing and swallows. Sniffs.

"Oh. Well. That explains why my nose has been running so."

Bilbo wipes his nose and Thorin looks at him in confusion, then worry, then confusion again, and ending with a mixture of incredulity and amusement. After a bit of explaining on Bilbo's part about hobbit physiology, they both have a good laugh. Thorin says something incredibly sappy about hobbits always surprising him, and Bilbo, happiest he's ever been, gives him a peck on the lips.

A few minutes later Bilbo is bringing thorin jugs of goat milk and apologizing endlessly as Thorin, red and sweating up a storm, pushes through the pain of the Ereborian Scythe Pepper.

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

DRAW IT BADLY OR IT'LL NEVER BE DRAWN

DRAW IT BADLY OR IT'LL NEVER BE DRAWN

DRAW IT BADLY OR IT'LL NEVER BE DRAWN

Dwalin only knows THE THIEF™  by the style of their hair, therefore he doesn’t suspect anything of the cute assistant Dwarf at Dori’s tailor shop. Shenanigans ensue.

I like combining that with the "hobbits immune to poisons" fanon, and, while Bilbo CAN feel the spice, it doesn't cause the type of, more intense, reactions it can for others.

Thorin, learning of how hobbits flirt with food, begins making uniquely dwarven meals and presenting them in a hobbity style displays of affection. Bilbo hearts-in-his-eyes Baggins takes a single bite and then asks when he'd like their wedding to be.

Thorin has the privilege of introducing Bilbo to new ingredients, and brings him to the mountain's gardens where he can see where they come from. Bilbo has been picking fruits to sample them the whole way, which of course Thorin is happy to allow. Thorin, who has been monologuing for some time now about the history of dwarven cultivation, stops walking.

"I ask that if you see a fruit which is red and curved, however, you refrain from touching it. For that is the infamous Ereborian Scythe Pepper. A single drop of its essence is enough to bring an entire army of dwarrow to their knee--"

Bilbo, who has a small collection of those very peppers in one hand and a handkerchief in his other, stops chewing and swallows. Sniffs.

"Oh. Well. That explains why my nose has been running so."

Bilbo wipes his nose and Thorin looks at him in confusion, then worry, then confusion again, and ending with a mixture of incredulity and amusement. After a bit of explaining on Bilbo's part about hobbit physiology, they both have a good laugh. Thorin says something incredibly sappy about hobbits always surprising him, and Bilbo, happiest he's ever been, gives him a peck on the lips.

A few minutes later Bilbo is bringing thorin jugs of goat milk and apologizing endlessly as Thorin, red and sweating up a storm, pushes through the pain of the Ereborian Scythe Pepper.

When a hobbit speaks to you directly— in a matter that could be construed as rude, no less— it’s a big deal. A big freakin’ deal. So he can’t even bring himself to expressing his displeasure at having his house hijacked by a bunch of foreign strangers without adding an apologetic disclaimer. This is the face of a hobbit who has been pushed to frustration, and that’s pretty damn rare.

Then Dwarves. They’re tough as nails and hard around the edges. It takes a hell of a lot to offend them, and even more than that to admit your own guff and apologize— so when somebody does apologize, you take it seriously. Even if you weren’t actually listening to whatever preceded that apology. Even if you don’t think it was worth apologizing for. That shit is serious business, and you take it seriously, yo. 

This is culture clash at its finest, reduced to two words.

My brain just keeps thinking about the fact that Bilbo is a posh gentleman in comparison to much of the Shire.