Later that evening, Bilbo was just cooking his dinner until he was interrupted by the doorbell. Finding a dwarf standing there, "Dwalin", he bowed. "At your service". Bilbo wasn't expecting company nor did he know who this was. The clothing was not of Hobbit descent, it was of the dwarven brethren. "Uh…Bilbo…Baggins…at yours", the Hobbit awkwardly introduced himself back to him, just before Dwalin stepped inside. "Do we know each other?", he asked him. "No. Which way, laddie? Is it down here?", the dwarf asked. "Is…Is what down where?" "Supper. He said there’d be food, and lots of it" "He…he said? Who said?" Dwalin was entering the kitchen now. This was not expected for the Hobbit. The doorbell rings again. As soon as Bilbo opens it, there was another dwarf standing there. This one looked elderly with a fading white beard. "Balin. At your service" "Good evening" "Yes. Yes, it is. Although I think it might rain later. Am I late?" "Late…for what?" The two dwarves continue to ignore him by raiding the pantry. The doorbell rings once again, and this time, there were two dwarves. Possibly younger than the previous two. "Fili", one of them says. He was blond, braided in some places of his hair, along with matching facial hair: beard and mustache.