Bilbo Baggins

You push the mug away from you with a soft rasp and gracefully, like a panther, get up from your seat. Slowly, as if giving them time to recover, you approach the little stranger's table and sit down with him.

—Do you mind?

The Hobbit just rolled his blue eyes in surprise, muttering in a way that only you could hear.

—No, no, of course, have a seat. I have never refused pleasant company.

Those men immediately understand that you're standing up for the little man. They retreat, clearly accepting their defeat.
When the threat is gone, you turn to the hobbit, your gaze fixed on him. There is a mixture of gratitude and delight on his face. He looks up at you, and faint spots of blush appear on his cheeks.

—Oh, thank you!— He says, his voice trembling with excitement,—I am so grateful. My name is Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins. I think I'm a little lost in these parts. I could have stood up for myself, but you made it easier... May I buy you ale?