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English
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Part 1 of The Cracky Ideas Which Come From Tumblr, and are Darth_Stitch's Fault
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Irreplaceablegems
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Published:
2013-07-23
Completed:
2013-08-01
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7,976
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5/5
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A Change In Status

Summary:

Dwalin and Thorin, visiting Bilbo, have gone off to run some errands. Things happen. Dwalin dumps the whole mess on Bilbo and runs off for a needed stiff drink.

Based on this prompt here, which is the fault of Darth Stitch. And a few other folk.

Notes:

::covers eyes with hand:: I've done this. I. I couldn't help myself. I actually started it, thought I'd infected passed it off to someone else and kicked back to relax, then I walked off and got hit by the frying pan of inspiration.

FINE. JUST. FINE.

BUT JUST THIS ONE CHAPTER. I SWEAR.

(See the end of the work for more notes and other works inspired by this one.)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

~~~

Bilbo winced at the roll of thunder, which seemed to go on and on and on, and finally realized, as he rubbed the remains of an after-tea nap from his eyes, that someone was knocking at the door. He sighed and made his way down the hall. Houseguests were very nice – even if they were well-beloved houseguests who were helping you pack up the house – but he’d been looking forward to a quiet afternoon while his batch were out on errands and now here was someone else come knocking and….

“Dwalin?”

“Hobbit. Bilbo. I. Here.” Dwalin shoved a bundle of mewling something at Bilbo, as soaking wet as Dwalin was, but hopefully not as cut up. Bilbo gazed in consternation at the tall warrior, who looked like he’d gotten on the bad side of a bramble bush and a mud puddle, perhaps several times.

“Why didn’t you just come in?” Bilbo asked, confused, as he automatically balanced the animal Dwalin had thrust into his arms. “And who’s this, then?” He asked, more softly, trying to gently jostle the creature enough to look into its’ face. It seemed to be a cat, and perhaps the most bedraggled thing he’d ever seen.

“Oh, do come in, Dwalin, and put those wet things there.” Bilbo nodded to the bundle of weapons and whatnot Dwalin was carrying. The dwarf seemed to collect them like Hamfast collected seed packets.

“I.” Dwalin muttered, swaying, standing just outside the door, water pouring off his nose. “I. Here.” He made one large step inside, carefully placed his bundle on the mat Bilbo had put out for drippy dwarrow boots, and stepped back outside. “I. Can’t.” He heaved a shaky sigh, in the grip of some powerful emotion. It was hard to tell with the rain, mud and blood, but it had clearly been a bad day. “Green Dragon. Drink,” he finally growled, and lit off at a near run through the rain.

“Well, would you look at that?” Bilbo said softly to the cat, who now had his nose in Bilbo’s neck and was shaking from the cold. “Honestly, he just gets stranger and stranger. Couldn’t find a stouter heart, and he’s a good friend, I know, to my love, and to me, really.”

Bilbo patted the poor bedraggled thing and closed the door. “You’ll meet Thorin later. Not sure why he’s not with Dwalin, now….hmm. Let’s see.” Bilbo kept up his soft talk as he moved through his smial, wondering at bit at how trustingly the cat – clearly shaking with cold or fright – was lying in his arms, little face pressed against his neck. He got a few towels and an old blanket and wandered back to his fire.

“Let’s have a look at you,” Bilbo said as they drew near, and began to kneel down, suddenly having a bit of trouble. “My goodness, what a big beautiful fellow you are, don’t worry, we’ll be down in just a tic….” The cat jumped down on his own, turned and glared at Bilbo. “Or you could do that,” Bilbo finished. “Right.”

The cat was most likely a beautiful thing when dry. All black with a few streaks of almost silvery white whiskers and eyebrows, long fur, big blue eyes, all currently the picture of wet and draggled misery. Bilbo made a clucking noise of sympathy and instantly was on the other end of a furious glare. He began to understand, perhaps, Dwalin's scratches.

Bilbo bit his lips to not laugh at the visual dressing down he was currently receiving from a wet cat. It was all too reminiscent of certain regal glares of Thorin’s. Unable to help himself, he reached out a hand to pet the poor thing, and the cat pulled his head back haughtily and fixed Bilbo with another even more lethal glare and a warning throaty noise.

“You’re going to fit in here just fine,” Bilbo chuckled. “I’m not even going to attempt helping to dry you when you’re in a mood, so I’m off to find something for you to eat. Hmmm. Am I or am I not supposed to give cats milk? I never can remember.”

The cat gave him a bewildered look. Bilbo laughed.

“Yes, I am going to talk to you as if you understand. I’ve always suspected you lot knew more than you were letting on. Aren’t you going to…you know…wash yourself? Get dry?”

The cat glared at Bilbo again and plunked down into pile of towels Bilbo had brought out, pointedly turning his back, radiating disgust.

“Well, I guess that’s me told,” Bilbo murmured, and padded off to the kitchen.

Halfway through chopping up a bit of chicken, Bilbo was hit by a horrible, horrible horrible thought. He walked in a daze to his sitting room and said softly. “Thorin?”

“Mrrrrrrow!” The cat was absolutely incandescent with outrage. "Grrrrrmrrrrrow!"

Bilbo stared into furious blue eyes and tried to take that in. "Nope." He bent over and breathed deeply, trying not to faint. He looked back at the cat from knee-level. The still-bedraggled thing was looking a bit worried now, Bilbo thought. Stricken and standing, almost hovering, like he wanted to help. Bilbo shook the odd thought out of his head and pursed his lips, thinking.

He glanced at the pile of weapons in the entryway. The hilt of Orcrist was visible, as was the toe of one very familiar boot. Bilbo staggered over to pick it up. As he did, a familiar tangle of jewelry fell out, including Thorin’s ring, and a chain of gold and mithril entwined Bilbo had commissioned Fili to make as part of Thorin’s courting gifts. Bilbo clutched it to his chest, closed his hand over the matching necklace around his own neck and choked out a half-sob. A moment later, he was butted in the leg by a damp little head, and he looked down to find large blue eyes looking up at him in a familiar soulful, sorrowful manner.

“Thorin.” Bilbo breathed.

The cat pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s calf and sighed. “Aow,” he said plaintively. “Aoooow.” What Bilbo heard was a mix of heartbreaking apology embarrassment, grief, and a small plea of comfort. Interesting, Bilbo thought, dizzy with shock, that Thorin could communicate so much so clearly with just few meows.

He crumpled to the floor and let Thorin come into his arms. Thorin headed straight for his favorite place, to rest his face in the crook of Bilbo’s neck (Bilbo should have known sooner, he really should have) but Bilbo had other ideas, and hauled his betrothed until they were nose to nose.

“What” he said in a quiet voice that those who knew him had cause to fear. “Did you, say,exactly, to Radagast?

~~~