Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bilbo first noticed that something strange was going on when he saw the brown-black cat sitting on his mailbox.

The cat sitting there was in and of itself was not terribly strange as cats seemed to favour being perched on odd things from time to time. His mother’s cat had loved lying on top of the hat rack, and goodness knows how he got up there as it was a good six feet off the ground.

The strange part about the cat on his mailbox was that seeing the cat made Bilbo realise that he’d seen it before.

It had been sitting on the pavement that morning when he’d left for his work at the library. It had been lying on a park bench during his lunch break, and the dark blur that he’d seen out of the corner of his eyes when he’d entered the reading room; a blur which he’d thought he’d imagined, had been rather… cat shaped on second thought.

Bilbo realised for sure that something strange was going on when the cat nodded politely at him and said:

“Hullo there.”

If Bilbo had thought about it he would have thought that the cat had sounded unusually cheerful for a cat (as he would have assumed that cats would be rather grumpy). But as things were, Bilbo didn’t think about it, because he fainted.

-

When Bilbo woke up he was lying on the couch in his living room and for about three seconds he supposed that  what had just happened must have been a strange dream. A really strange dream.

Then he opened his eyes and saw the cat.

“How, what, why-“ Bilbo tried to ask something relevant, but as his brain was currently only filled with one thought: A TALKING CAT! - it was particularly helpful in helping him progress beyond a single syllable.

“Let’s leave the how for later, shall we,” the cat said amiable. “I’m Bofur, I’m your Familiar, and I’m here because you’ve manifested as a Witch.”

It was lucky Bilbo was lying down, because he fainted again.

-

“Come on, wake up you,” a voice said and something soft patted against Bilbo’s cheek. “I’m never going to hear the end of it if Nori finds out I’ve broken you on the first day. And I wore myself out getting you inside. If anyone is going to be lazing around it's-”

Blinking open his eyes Bilbo gave a (very manly) yell of horror to find green eyes inches away from his face.

“No need for that,” the cat scolded, jumping down from his chest and giving a displeased flick of its tail. “I’m hardly about to hurt you.”

“You’re a talking cat,” Bilbo said numbly. “Oh dear lord I’m going insane.”

“I’m not just any cat,” the cat huffed. “I’m your Familiar. Your trusted companion. Your friendly spirit buddy. Your own personal daemon.  Your-“

“Demon!?” Bilbo cried, horrified.

“Not the kind you’re thinking,” the cat said and smiled in a way Bilbo thought was supposed to be calming. It wasn’t, because cats were not supposed to smile.

-

“One of your parents had to have been a Witch as well. It's as easy as that. In your case it was your mum, and-”

Bilbo stared in disbelief, so much disbelief, at the cat.

“My parents were not witches, I am not a witch!” he exclaimed heatedly. Then he said: “Oh…” in a much more subdued voice because he realised that everything in his living room was levitating two inches off the floor. (Or whatever surface it had been previously resting on.) Including the couch he was sitting on. And the cat too, even though it looked fairly at ease about the whole thing; like accidental levitation was just something that happened every so often.

“I told you,” the cat said. “Besides, I don’t see why you bother arguing with me. Either you believe that you’re really talking to me, in which case you should really try to have a more open mind, or you’re not really talking to me, or rather, I’m not really talking to you, because I'm either not here or just a normal cat, and well that… that’s not good.”

The cat looked thoughtful. “No, not good at all, it’s much nicer being a Witch. You sure your parents didn’t tell you about this whole Witch thing?”

“I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that...” Yes, most definitely he would have remembered something like that.

“Don’t have any books, thick books - smell of magic, lying around then?”

“No,” Bilbo said darkly.  When he could hear his mother’s porcelain vibrating in the kitchen he tried to calm himself.

“D’ya have an attic then?” the cat asked hopefully. “That’s usually where these things end up, it couldn’t hurt to check.”

-

“That wasn’t here before,” Bilbo said suspiciously when he spotted the large book lying on a wooden podium in the middle of his attic. “Did you put that there?”

The cat waved a furry paw in Bilbo’s direction. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo muttered. “You’re not supposed to talk either.” A thought occured to him. "And how did you get me inside before?"

The cat smiled again. "Magic."

"So you did put the book there?"

-

It turned out that his mother had been a Witch after all; her name was written inside the book’s front cover, and now Bilbo was wondering if her cat - Gandalf, had perhaps not been any ordinary cat… He’d always had a knowing look in his blue-grey eyes.

Bilbo had assumed that was just connected to being a cat and knowing that people existed merely to serve and pet you, but perhaps…

“You’re being awfully quiet now,” the cat, Bofur, said worriedly. “Not planning on jumping out the window or anything? I know someone whose Witch did that. A damned mess it was.”

Bilbo glanced around in the very windowless attic. “No, can’t say that I’m planning that. I’m just-” he sighed. “I can’t believe that my mother didn’t tell me.” Oh dear, did that mean that he actually believed this... this madness?

“I’m sure she had her reasons,” Bofur said comfortingly, coming to rub his head against Bilbo’s leg.

“Or I’m just insane,” Bilbo muttered. “Isn’t that a sign of insanity, believing that you’re not insane?”

“So you believe me?” Green eyes looked pleadingly up at him.

“I- I,“I better take this downstairs,” Bilbo murmured and gestured to the book. “It’s too dark in here to read it anyway.”

Suddenly it was not, because suddenly his attic was no longer windowless. A big skylight had appeared centred over Bilbo and the book.

“Good choice,” Bofur said, relief heavy in his voice. “It’d be tough to throw yourself out of that one.”

Chapter Text

“So,” Bilbo said, carefully closing the book. “I’m a witch?”

There was no response, and when the blond looked over at the cat who had named itself Bofur and claimed to be his Familiar; which considering that the cat did talk… well, there was definitely something strange going on there, he saw that it had apparently gone to sleep.

Bofur had spread himself out over the half of Bilbo’s desk that wasn’t covered with what claimed to be his mother’s spell book. (And no, while the cat was talking the book didn’t, but it had notes in his mother’s handwriting and her name inside the front cover.)

How strange was that, that the talking cat sleeping on his desk wasn’t actually the weirdest thing resting on it. Bilbo still didn’t understand why his mother hadn’t told him about this… she could have. He would have believed her.

Surely.

“Wake up!” Bilbo demanded, poking the cat in the side. “Don’t sleep through my existential crisis, that’s very rude.”

“What?” Bofur murmured sleepily. “Is it morning? Oh, hello,” he added when he saw Bilbo. “Done reading yet? When I suggested that we find that book I didn’t mean for you to actually read it from cover to cover all in one go.”

Bilbo pursed his lips. “I had to read it to know what I’m getting involved with. And-“ Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to see if there were any spells on how to fix broken plates.”

He hadn’t been to check, but around the time he was reading how to vanquish evil spirits –and admittedly becoming a little wild-eyed about the entire concept of there being evil spirits to vanquish in the first place - there had been the sound of something that very much sounded like plates breaking from the kitchen.

“You don’t need a spell for that,” Bofur huffed as he uncurled and languidly stretched himself out on the desk. “Just tell them to fix themselves.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe,” Bilbo frowned. “What if I accidentally tell something to do something I don’t really want. I’ve been known to threaten the kettle when it takes too long to do anything productive in the mornings.” His frowned deepened. “It’s not the same for people I hope? I really don’t want to- Why are you smiling?”

Just like when he’d first seen it a few- how long had he been reading anyway? – hours ago, the sight of a cat smiling was fairly disturbing. The teeth weren’t very big, but they sure seemed sharp.

“Because I’m happy I’m your Familiar,” Bofur said warmly. “Your first thought wasn’t how you could use your gift, it was worry for others. That’s wonderful, Bilbo. I mean, I didn’t think that you’d turn out to be one of the bad ones but-”

“Hang on, there are bad witches?” Bilbo stared down at the cat. “As in evil witches? That doesn’t sound good.” In fact, it sounded even worse than evil spirits. Maybe.

“Well, of course it’s not good,” Bofur said and shook his head. “But don’t worry, we usually manage to arrest them before they can do any harm.”

“I’m not sure if I want to ask about ‘usually’ or your use of the word ‘arrest’,” Bilbo murmured. “Or perhaps the word ‘we’.”

“We can get to those things later,” Bofur said and while the cat sounded calm Bilbo could see how the its tail brushed back and forth on the desk in a clearly upset manner.

“Has this something to do with how you were following me today?” Bilbo asked. “What were you going to do if I’d done something- something bad?”

“Can we focus on how you only used your new powers for good instead?” Bofur asked looking pleadingly up at Bilbo.  “I’m not supposed to tell you about these things on your first day as a Witch.”

“No we can’t- used my powers?” Bilbo blinked. “I didn’t do anything, I’m pretty sure I would have remembered making all the bookcases in the library float.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Bofur huffed. “You can do much more than that. Didn’t you think that sorting all the returned books went particularly fast today? That was because they were sorting themselves while you did other things. And you did that without even thinking about it, Bilbo!”

“That really doesn’t make me feel better,” Bilbo said. “What if I think about something I’m not supposed to think about!”

“We’ll help you practice,” Bofur said, placing his paw over Bilbo’s hand where it rested on the desk.

“I’m hearing this ‘we’ again,” Bilbo mumbled.

“You’ll get to meet all of us soon,” Bofur grinned, and it was actually beginning to look less frightening. Dear lord… “We just have to wait until midnight. Or there abouts.”

“What will happen at midnight?” Bilbo asked cautiously. “Anything I should warn the neighbours about? Portals opening in the back garden, pentagrams appearing on the sidewalk?”

Bofur snorted. “Nah, the bus will just arrive.”

“The bus?” Bilbo blinked. “Like, like in Harry Potter?”

“Well, it’s not purple.”

“I refuse to talk to talking hats,” Bilbo informed the desk, which he was now pressing his forehead against. “Really, I’m- there’s a line, and it’s there.”

“You don’t like hats?”

When Bilbo looked up again the cat was wearing a hat. Not a wizard’s hat, no, because wizards hat didn’t have ear flaps. And they probably weren’t lined with what looked to be wool. Then again, what did Bilbo know about wizards…

“Really, you don’t like my hat?” Bofur looked worried. “It’s a nice hat.”

“Does it talk?”

“Well of course it doesn’t,” Bofur said as if that was the silliest thing he’d heard. “It hasn’t got a mouth.”

Somehow, that wasn’t very comforting.

Chapter Text

The bus was indeed not purple. It was no colour at all, because it was invisible. Bilbo would have preferred it to be purple, all things being equal.

He could hear the bus, and the driver - who was also invisible – and the driver was shouting at him to ‘come right in, mate’. But Bilbo had a few problems with that.

It didn’t matter that Bofur was nudging him and telling him that the door was right there, Bilbo still felt like clutching his mailbox and refusing to leave the sidewalk. When he’d woken up that very morning, no one had told him that his day would end like this. Fine, if someone had he wouldn’t have believed them, but it was the principle of the matter.

It was lucky it was midnight, very few of his neighbours would still be awake to see him being pushed towards the street by a talking cat.

“It’ll be better once you’re inside, just keep walking,” Bofur said as he bumped his head against the back of Bilbo’s legs.

“I’m sure people are told that all the time and then bad things happen,” Bilbo muttered. “Just walk into here, nothing bad will happen, and then they get gassed.”

Bofur sighed very heavily for something smaller than Bilbo’s pillow. “I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Bilbo said, slightly ashamed of himself. “Or disrespectful, but…” He glanced towards the bus, or well, the empty space where there supposedly would be a bus. “I’m feeling more than a little out of my depth here.”

“It’s a little overwhelming,” Bofur agreed. “I understand.”

“Do you really?” Bilbo asked. “Because unless you thought you were an ordinary cat and then one day someone informed you that you could actually speak and that-“

“Just get on the bus, Bilbo,” Bofur said with an ocean of patience in his voice. “Mind the step though.”

Bilbo did, both get on the bus and mind the step. And, things actually got a little better once he’d stepped inside the bus, because suddenly he could actually see it. And the driver. And the other passengers, some of which looked as wide-eyed and shell-shocked as he rather imaged he looked himself.

“Welcome aboard, mate,” the driver said and tipped his hat. “And don’t worry, one time we had to wait for an hour and then carry the bloke inside. You didn't do nearly as poorly.”

“Erm, thank you?” Bilbo said and then went to take a seat. Bofur followed and jumped up on the seat next to him.

“See,” he said. “Isn’t this a lot better?”

Bilbo looked around at his fellow passengers, who would have looked like any other people he’d ever seen on a bus, if it hadn’t been for the fact that each and every one of them had an animal sitting with them, or on them, as was the case with some birds, what looked to be a squirrel and a huge snake that hung around the shoulders of a thin, redheaded woman.

“Sure,” Bilbo said dubiously. Then his eyes grew even wider than before as he realised something.

“Is this really safe?” he asked Bofur. “Other cars won’t be able to see us and that’s something of a handicap when driving.”

“Look out,” Bofur suggested. And Bilbo did indeed do so, with a certain anticipatory feeling of dread curling in his stomach because there had been a laugh hiding in Bofur’s voice.

The bus was soaring along a good 5 metres above the ground and Bilbo quickly stopped looking out.

“I’m not going to talk to any hats,” Bilbo muttered. “No, just, no.”

“I really don’t see why you dislike hats so much,” Bofur said sadly and patted his own hat with a furry paw. “They’re nice, keep your head warm and such. Stylish too.”

"Where are we going then?" Bilbo asked after a few minutes of silently staring out the window and pretending that it was normal to see roof tops while being on the bus. "Stonehenge? Dartmoor? Tintagel?"

"Cardiff," Bofur said a bit distractedly and Bilbo looked down at him only to discover that the cat had produced a touch screen phone from somewhere; which was now lying on the seat between them, and he was busy playing some sort of brightly coloured game.

"Cardiff?" Bilbo said, deciding to let the whole smart phone thing slip for now, for the sake of his own sanity. "Please tell me you're not aliens."

"Bilbo." Bofur looked up at him. "I think you need to watch a bit less telly."

"Says the talking cat," Bilbo muttered.

"I don't see what that has to do with it," Bofur said with a sniff.

"Besides, Harry Potter was a book first."

Bofur patted his knee. "It's okay. Like the driver said, you're doing good."

"Actually, he said I wasn't doing poorly," Bilbo pointed out. "Not doing poorly and doing good, that doesn't have to be the same thing."

"It'll be fine," Bofur said with a smile. "Just try and relax. Want to play for a bit?" He pushed the game towards Bilbo.

"Thank you, but I think I'll just sit here and panic for a while," Bilbo said and closed his eyes. "It feels like the sensible thing to do."

Chapter Text

“Hang on,” Bilbo said, reaching out to poke Bofur in the side when the cat didn’t pay him any attention (talking or not, cats were still cats it seemed, even if Bofur was now ignoring him because he was playing on his phone and not just staring out into space like cats usually seemed to like doing).

“I need to be at work tomorrow.” He looked at his watch. “Today even.”

Bilbo couldn’t believe that he was only now realising this. Or… well, he rather could believe that actually. Compared to invisible buses his own absentmindedness was a lot easier to take in. Or compared to talking cats. Or giant books suddenly appearing. Or skylights suddenly appearing.

Yeah, on second thought, Bilbo definitely could believe that he’d forgotten that he had a work that he needed to go to.

“Don’t worry,” Bofur said without looking up from his phone. “It’ll be taken care of.”

“No, still worrying,” Bilbo said after a moment. “Are you going to enchant my co-workers?!”

“Or, we’ll just phone and tell them you’re sick. Throat infection. Can’t talk, very contagious.”

“Oh.” Bilbo deflated. “Ah, well, that would work.”

“Glad to have your approval,” Bofur said, little kitty face splitting in a wide grin as the phone beeped. Bilbo still wasn’t quite used to that. Creatures with very pointy, sharp-looking teeth usually didn’t smile, and he was rather figuring out why.

Not that he felt threatened. Not really. Bofur seemed about as threatening as a teddy bear. Albeit one with fangs. (Were they still called canines on cats? It seemed a little… wrong.)

“Wait.” Bilbo’s eyes widened. “How long will we be gone for? You’ve not told me.” Another thought occurred. “And I’ve not packed, not even a handkerchief.” He didn’t even have his wallet.

“Bilbo, if you want a handkerchief, you can just magic one up.”

“Is that the technical term?” Bilbo asked faintly, sinking down a little in his seat. “And I’m fairly sure that would be breaking all sorts of laws of physics.”

Rather like invisible buses, or even, invisible, flying buses, did.

Bilbo glanced out the window. The world did seem to still be there, he could see the street light below them, no black holes had started to form, so maybe…

There hadn’t been anything in his mother’s book about handkerchiefs, but if Bofur said that he could just ‘magic one up’…

Bilbo concentrated and poof (!) a handkerchief did appear in his hand. Only without the poof, really. It was suddenly just there. Looking perfectly ordinary, and no black holes appeared, so Bilbo decided to consider it a success. Even if the pattern looked a little wonky.

“Um,” Bofur looked at him with wide eyes. “Bilbo, you’re not really supposed to be able to do that.”

“But you said I could?” Bilbo protested, waving the handkerchief in Bofur’s face as proof. “You said.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t even say the spell.” Bofur looked around and lowered his voice slightly. “There are supposed to be limitations. Why do you think your mum had a book as thick as a- something very thick? What would be the point of that if you could just do anything you wanted anyway?”

“Oh.” Bilbo looked at the handkerchief and tried to make it go away. It agreeably popped out of existence. “Is that better?”

“Not really,” Bofur said slowly. Then he snorted. It was disturbing to hear a cat snort. “You’re going to be a real interesting one, aren’t you?”

“I’m not though,” Bilbo protested. “I don’t think anyone has ever said that I was interesting in my entire life. I work in a library.”

Bofur tutted. “Don’t sell yourself short. Nothing wrong with libraries. Except the mice.”

“You don’t like mice?” Bilbo asked.

“Not the one in libraries.” Bofur made a face. “They taste like dust.”

“Oh.” If there was something more profound he could say to that, Bilbo did not know it. “You never told me how long we’d be gone for,” he said instead.

“It was only supposed to be for the day,” Bofur said contemplatively. “But considering what you just did with the handkerchief…”

Bilbo showed the cat his empty hands. “No handkerchief here. Nothing at all to see.”

“… we might just end up staying a little longer. Thorin will want to see you.”

“Thorin?”

“He’s our king,” Bofur explained.

“Witches have kings?”

“And queens,” the cat nodded. “Sometimes both at once. But not right now. We’ve got two princes and a princess though.”

“And they all live in Cardiff?” Bilbo swallowed and looked down at his clothes. “I’m not sure if I’m wearing something suitable to meet royalty in. The British in me might curdle.” It was already making protests about Bofur casually calling a king by his first name.

“Eh, they don’t care about things like that,” Bofur said dismissively. “Just don’t mention Elves to Thorin and-“

“There are Elves?”

“Did you or did you not read the book?” Bofur asked, whiskers twitching slightly. “There ought to have been a whole chapter on them, your mother even lived with them for a while.”

“I don’t remember even seeing a chapter like that,” Bilbo said. “But, what kind of Elves are we talking about?”

“Well, not the kind that lives on the North Pole with Santa,” Bofur said with a chuckle, and Bilbo desperately hoped that Santa wouldn't be one of those things that would turn out to be real after all. He was maybe beginning to accept that witches were real, what with the talking cats and magically appearing handkerchiefs, but Santa?

That would be- no, just no.

“They’re… Elves,” Bofur shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll meet one sooner or later. Especially since you’ll be staying for a while.”

“I am, am I?” Bilbo asked pointedly. “I’m sorry, but when did I agree to that?”

To his annoyance Bofur only chuckled. “I think you’ll like it. You should see our library for one.”

“You’ve a library?”

“Of course,” Bofur nodded. “Mice still taste like dust though. But if you just keep away from them-“

“I’ll do my best,” Bilbo said with a sigh.

Chapter Text

"I still don't see what the big deal is though," Bilbo said defensively. He looked around the bus, no one seemed to be listening to their conversation. "You told me I didn't need a spell to fix my plates. And I didn't. And I didn't even mean to do anything when I made everything float. And –and - your hat," he added, finger pointing accusatorially at said hat. 

That thing had certainly materialised out of nowhere. No spells required. 

"Yes, but the plates were already there. And so were the books, and your furniture. And I really don't see why you keep complaining about my hat," Bofur said sadly, his whiskers drooping. "It's a nice hat. I’ve had it for years, you’re the first one to complain about it."

"But you 'magicked it up'!" Bilbo protested. "And the book!" he exclaimed pointing a finger at Bofur. "The book that suddenly appeared out of nowhere."

"It was your mother's book, it hardly came out of nowhere. And it's my hat, so the same applies," Bofur said with a sniff. "They were just somewhere else for a bit. Until they were needed." Bofur's whiskers twitched. "You really don't like my hat?"

"It's fine," Bilbo said wearily. "It's a perfectly lovely hat." If you liked that sort of thing. Bilbo wasn't really a hat person. He glanced around again, thankfully the bits about wizards, erm witches (?), having special hats seemed to be greatly exaggerated. 

“Is everyone a witch or are their wizards too?” Bilbo asked.

“Depends on who you ask,” Bofur said and stretched himself out on the seat. “It’s a bit of a potato-potahto thing if you were to ask me. Which you did.” The cat yawned, showing many sharp white teeth, not that Bilbo felt in any way threatened by a housecat, a talking one or not.

“Could you wake me when we’re there?” Bofur asked and curled up in the shape of a comma.

“How will I know when we’re-“

“You’ll know,” Bofur said and yawned again. “Oh, and you feel like stroking me, that’s entirely all right on my part. I’ll even get rid of the hat for you.”

And just like that the hat was gone.

“What if the handkerchief was just waiting for me to need it,” Bilbo said and tentatively stroked his hand over Bofur’s side. Refusing had seemed rude.

“Was it one of your handkerchiefs?”

“Well, no,” Bilbo admitted. “The embroidery on it was quite lovely but also somewhat lopsided, none of mine look like that.”

“So either you managed to snag someone else’s possession, or you just convinced the universe to arrange itself and make a brand new handkerchief.” Bofur’s eyes slid close as Bilbo stroked between his ears. “Oh, you are a good witch you are. But yes, none of those things are very good.”

“I still don’t see what the difference is,” Bilbo said and discreetly shook his hand to get rid of some of the hair sticking to it.

Bofur lowered his voice. “If you could just go around wishing to have other people’s things, or just making things appear out of nowhere, don’t you think that would be a mite troublesome? If you wished for my hat and it decided to go to you then it wouldn’t be my hat anymore so I couldn’t get it back unless you actually gave it to me.”

“This is starting to sounds a bit like Harry Potter again,” Bilbo said and frowned down at the cat. “Only they had wands, not hats.”

“You could have a wand if you want,” Bofur said as a low, scratchy purr started in his chest. “It won’t do anything, but I guess you could poke people with it? Or if you meet someone with a dog familiar you could play fetch. I’d not try it with Dwalin though.”

“And who is Dwalin?”

“He’s the king’s familiar. Could you rub between my ears again?”

The purring increased in strength as Bilbo did just that.

“How about the window?” Bilbo asked. “I made that appear out of nowhere too.”

“Well, technically you made it appear out of a roof. Not quite the same thing. And considering where it was your mother probably made it appear in the first place, and you just lured it back out again.”

“Bilbo Baggins, librarian and window enticer,” Bilbo muttered. “No, I do not think that’s going on my resume.”

Chapter Text

They arrived to Cardiff, and to be honest it was a little bit of a let-down.

The bus didn’t stop at the castle, or at some other grand and impressive building. It stopped outside a Burger King, glaring bright lights and all. Including a smell of greasy chips.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Bilbo said. “I- no.”

“Off you go,” Bofur prompted.

“Tell me that there’s not a magical gate to whatever version of Diagon Alley you’ve got inside that Burger King and I’ll go.”

“You really like Harry Potter, don’t you?” Bofur mused. “Well, I guess it could be worse.”

“Ah!” Bilbo said and pointed his finger at Bofur. “You knew which colour the bus was. You’re not in any position to throw stones.”

“Ten years ago all anyone would talk about was that telly series with the three sisters,” Bofur defended. “But now it’s just that Harry bloke. Of course I had to read it to see what everyone was on about.” He brought a paw up to rub at his whiskers. “Can’t say I approved of that woman’s version of a school. Those children would graduate without knowing anything about the real world. Even the ones with non-magical parents. And the lack science education was appaling. Not to mention that of course you’ll have conflict when you've got two populations living together without proper integration. We’re not different enough that seclusion is the best option. Leave that to the Elves, and even they-.”

“I am not having a discussion about the politics of a fictional world with a cat,” Bilbo said and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He had the feeling that he’d never used the words ‘I’m not’, ‘I won’t’ and ‘No’ as often as he’d done in the last hours, but there was nothing to be done about it.

“Are you getting off my bus though?” the driver called. “I’ve got places to be!”

Bofur looked up at him with big, green, pleading eyes. And the bastard even let out a low sad meow as well.

“Fine!” Bilbo said and got to his feet. “Fine, it’s not like anything was making sense before this anyway.”

-

To Bilbo’s relief there was not a secret gateway to another world inside of the hamburger restaurant.

To Bilbo’s despair there was a secret gateway to another world in the alley just outside the hamburger restaurant. And as they walked up to it, one of the other people that had been on the bus walked right through what appeared to be a solid brick wall. Wonderful, just wonderful.

“It’s not our fault they decided to build this here,” Bofur protested when Bilbo began to mutter beneath his breath. “We were here first. We had a lovely gate, wrought iron. Fine craftsmanship, with silver bits at the top. Bt it looked terribly suspicious once the wall came up. And do you know how hard it is to move one of these portals? It’s not something you just do with the wave of a paw, let me tell you that much. And it’s not to another world. It’s still Cardiff. Just-“

“In another world,” Bilbo muttered.

“It’s not,” Bofur sighed. “Don’t be so difficult.”

“Difficult,” Bilbo sputtered. He glared down at Bofur with narrowed eyes, then purely out of spite he snapped his fingers and made the handkerchief come back again, stuffing it into his pocket with a pointed look at the cat.

“Just be a doll and walk through the nice brick wall will you?” Bofur said and curled his tail around his paws.

-

“Okay,” Bilbo said looking up at the sprawling mansion. “This is more like what I expected. And you swear it’s not in another world?”

“It’s not,” Bofur promised. “Only if you don’t come through the way we did you’d just see a construction site. Well, if you could see through walls. Or if you went through the effort of climbing over it.”

“A construction site?”

Bofur nodded. “And a dreadfully boring one too. Not even any fancy machinery, just dust and someone’s broken dreams.” The cat shrugged. “Seems to work well enough to keep people away. And if someone actually manages to get inside, we do have guards. Usually they can be escorted out before the walk into something that is not technically supposed to be there.”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Bilbo murmured. “Can we go see this Thorin-king person now so I can go home again?” And possibly forget that any of this ever happened? To think that less than a day ago he'd just been a normal librarian. And now- Bilbo looked up at the mansion. Now not so much.

The mansion didn’t look like a castle, but it was impressive enough anyway. Bilbo could believe that a king lived there. Even if it was next to a fast food place.

They were standing on a gravel path leading up towards the building, and it was lined by waist-high wellkept hedges and the old-fashioned kind of street lights that had been run on gas before electricity made its appearance. The only thing that suggested that magic was involved was the complete lack of weeds on the path, and that could just be a very dedicated gardener.

“I think King Thorin might be asleep still, and don’t you want to get a kip in of your own first?” Bofur started to trot up the path and Bilbo followed. “You’ve been up all night. You should have napped on the bus like I did."

“I’m not sure I could sleep,” Bilbo admitted.

“Let’s get you settled first anyway,” Bofur suggested. “Since you’ll be staying a while.”

“Great,” Bilbo said. “At least unpacking will be done in a-“ His eyes widened. “What is that on the roof?”

Curled around one of the chimneys was a- a-

“Oh that?” Bofur shrugged. “Just the dragon. Don’t worry, he’s entirely harmless. Bit of an ego on him, sure. But as he’s one of the last dragons in Britain we usually see between the fingers. Most of ‘em have moved to Australia.” The cat wrinkled his nose. “Don’t see why, but I guess they like their space. Or maybe it's the kangaroos."

Chapter Text

Bilbo resolutely kept his eyes on the ground.

However trying not to think about the dragon on the roof was like trying to avoid picking at a scab. You knew picking at it wasn’t going to be pleasant, but some masochist part of you wanted to do it anyway and would revel in watching the scab fall away.

Bilbo didn't know what the dragon equivalent of that would be, and he didn't want to know.

A dragon. On the roof. And the talking cat did not think that was strange, which okay, fair enough.

As they walked up the large stone stairs to the front doors a pony trotted up next to them, carrying a small child on its back. The girl was about five, maybe six, or- well, she was small and definitely younger than ten, and when she grinned at Bilbo she revealed that her front teeth had decided to seek employment elsewhere.

“I like your kitty!” she said and smiled down at Bofur. “Hello pretty kitty!”

The pony snorted. “He can’t carry you anywhere.”

“Hello to you to, Bill,” Bofur chuckled. “Been a while. And hello pretty young lady! I’m Bofur, and this is my witch Bilbo, what’s your name?”

“Eowyn! I’m a witch too!”

Feeling a sneeze coming his way Bilbo scrambled to get the handkerchief from his pocket.

Three sets of eyes eyed him with concern, however Bofur’s quickly filled with alarm.

“Bilbo, your handkerchief…”

“Yes, what?” Bilbo said as he blew his nose. “Regardless of what you said it came quite in handy didn’t it?”

“Look at it.”

“I don’t-“

Bilbo looked at it. And then looked at it even more carefully.

The pattern had changed from the slightly wonky one with the blue flowers to a myriad of tiny red dragons. Dragons that moved.

There were tiny moving dragons on his handkerchief. There was nothing about that which wasn't upsetting.

“I’m not making it do that!” Bilbo protested. “I’m really not.”

“Best show that to Thorin,” Bofur murmured and Bilbo turned his aghast stare to the cat.

“I can’t show a king a snotty handkerchief, are you mad?”

“It’s good that you used your handkerchief,” the little girl informed him kindly. “You’re not supposed to use your sleeves.”

The pony whinnied out a soft laugh. “Good girl, Eowyn. I think we better continue now, it’s past bedtime for you. Bofur,” he nodded down at the cat. “And Bilbo, pleasure meeting you.”

“Pleasure meeting you!” the little girl echoed and waved her hand. “You can come visit if you bring the pretty kitty. My brother has a bird, but you won’t eat it, will you?”

“Erm,” Bilbo said, before he realised that the question had been directed at Bofur.

“I’d never,” Bofur promised.

As the pony and girl continued up into the house Bilbo and Bofur lingered on the steps a little longer.

“I’m not showing this to a king,” Bilbo protested and waved the handkerchief around, carefully.

“He’s seen worse,” Bofur said.

“Not from me!” Bilbo glared at the handkerchief and the dragons, which now appeared to be migrating to one of the corners, most of them looking very sleepy.

"It'll be fine."

"No it won't."

-

“Nori!” Bofur called as they walked into the large entrance hall, interrupting Bilbo’s morose chain of thoughts.

There were dragons on the roof (well, one dragon), dragons on his handkerchief, and snot his handkerchief, and for some reason his brain had gotten stuck on the last one as the biggest problem, even though it was the only natural thing of the three.

“Nori, I need a room for my Witch, he’ll be staying a few days!”

A sleek rust-coloured cat, easily three times the size of Bofur slunk out from the shadows lining the edges of the hall. His claws made quiet clicking sounds against the marble floor as he approached them.

“And what’s wrong with the common rooms?” Nori purred as he stopped in front of them, giving Bilbo an unimpressed look that Bilbo tried very hard not to be offended by lest he dump the handkerchief over the cat’s head. Then the words 'common rooms' registered in Bilbo's head and he started worrying about talking hats once more.

“He’ll be staying a while. Thorin will want to see him,” Bofur explained.

“Is that so?”

This time the look was not quite as unimpressed; there was a good dollop of scepticism there as well, but Bilbo was a little too distracted to see it as a group of penguins had appeared from a hallway and filed past them on their way out.

“It is so,” Bofur nodded. “He’s very impressive, my new witch.”

“He’s in the room,” Bilbo sighed, tuning back into the conversation. “And he does not enjoy being talked about like-“

“He made a handkerchief!”

“Like that.”

“A handkerchief?”

“Show him the handkerchief.”

“I will not,” Bilbo said and crossed his arms. “I’ve used that handkerchief.”

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse,” the larger cat yawned. “Regardless of what you wiped up with it. I've had kittens."

"You've had kittens?" Bilbo tilted his head. "I'm sorry, are you a girl?"

"If he can't see that I'm a cat I'm afraid you've got your work cut out for you," Nori said to Bofur.

Chapter Text

While Bilbo had stopped himself from saying that the cat’s voice was distinctly male and that was why he had assumed that it wouldn’t be able to have kittens, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from thinking it.

As such, Bilbo had to admit to himself that ‘the cat has a male voice’ was indeed a thought he’d entertained. Just like he had to admit that he was in possession of a handkerchief decorated with moving dragons (albeit not moving at the moment as they’d all gone to sleep in a corner – a corner well away from the snot) , and just like he had to admit that the last few hours of his life had not been in any way normal.

The hallway he was currently walking through looked normal enough; normal floor, normal walls, normal ceiling, but he was sure it was a trap. If he let his guard down a talking purple porcupine, or something of that sort, would surely appear to nibble away at the remains of his sanity.

Bofur was leading the way to the room Nori had given Bilbo, keeping up a steady stream of small talk that Bilbo was absently listening to as he tried to not go insane.

“The newest sections of the house were finished just a few years ago. The place needed some attention anyway after the Goblin Rebellions and-“

“That’s from Harry Potter!” Bilbo said accusingly.

“Pardon?” Bofur asked.

“The Goblin Rebellions. That’s in the Harry Potter books.”

The cat blinked. “Well, true, but it’s definitely not the same thing. Our Goblins... let's just say they're not nearly as pleasant to be around. You know, I’ve always thought it was a bit unfair of Rowling to call them rebellions. Her Goblins did have a point. Don’t even get me started on the House Elves situation. And rebellion sounds so much more… not-nice than a revolution.” Bofur hummed thoughtfully. “Would you say that there are parallels between the Goblins and to the slavery in the colonies and such? Because I’ve always thought-“

“I’m not discussing fictional politics with a cat in the middle of the night,” Bilbo said firmly. “I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

“After breakfast then?”

Bilbo sighed. “All right, fine.”

He knew he’d previously refused to discuss fictional politics at all, but it was really hard to say no to Bofur’s wide green eyes.

“Oh, are you hungry now by any chance? We could pop by the kitchens before you go to bed.”

Bilbo was a little hungry, but not enough that he’d like to brave more hallways before being able to shut himself up in a hopefully normal room.

“I can wait for breakfast.”

“Sure? I could go and bring you something.” He gave Bilbo a pointed look. “Please don’t try and create any food with magic. Even if you manage not to poison yourself that stuff’s just never very nutritious.”

“Uh-huh,” Bilbo said, distracted by the appearance of a stray penguin waddling down the halls. The penguin nodded up at him as they met and gave a small honk.

Did that mean that the penguins couldn’t talk? Even though Bofur and that pony and Nori could? And did that mean there were some limits to-

“Bilbo? Bilbo are you listening to me?”

“I’m sorry?” Bilbo looked down at Bofur. “What were you saying?”

The cat sighed. “Never mind. Come on now, let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep on your feet. That usually only works for the likes of Bill.”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Dwalin manage it a time or two.”

Bilbo turned his head to look for the source of the voice, rather hoping it wouldn’t be a goldfish or ladybug (not that he disliked goldfish or ladybugs, but just because he was fairly sure that fish and insects weren’t actually in the possession of the parts needed to make much sounds at all, much less words and there were limits to how far his suspense of disbelief could stretch before it snapped) but to his relief he saw that the person speaking was a human being.

At least… Bilbo supposed he was human. He looked human enough. And normal enough, even if he was a bit more handsome than could be considered average.

“Frerin!” Bofur said cheerfully as he trotted up to the blond. “I didn’t know you were back. How did Morocco treat you? Got a nice tan I see.”

The blond man, Frerin, chuckled and crouched down to shake Bofur’s paw. “I just arrived a few hours ago. Glad to be home. As for the tan I’m not sure how that happened as I only remember being stuck inside in endless meetings.”

“Magic?” Bofur suggested with a teasing twitch of his whiskers.

Bilbo’s own lips twitched upwards as Frerin tilted his head back and laughed. There was something pleasingly contagious about that laughter.

“I’d ask what’s new with you,” Frerin said as he straightened back up. “But I think I know.” He gave Bilbo a smile before looking back down at Bofur. “Did you get yourself a Witch, Bofur?”

“I did indeed,” Bofur said proudly. “Frerin, this is Bilbo. Bilbo, Frerin.”

“Hullo,” Bilbo said, feeling a little awkward.

“Very nice to meet you,” Frerin said and held out his hand as he flashed Bilbo a wide, white grin. A very pretty one, and Bilbo was suddenly very aware that he’d benefit from a shower, a comb and a nap, and not necessarily in that order.

“Same,” Bilbo said, silently telling his hand to please not act like a dead fish as he shook the hand offered to him.

“Hey, where’s Óin?” Bofur asked. “You didn’t leave her in Morocco did you?”

“Like she’d let me,” Frerin snorted. “Nah, she went to see Glóin and Gimala. Their kit is going to come any day now. I’m glad we made it back in time for that.”

Bofur perked up. “Really? I didn’t know it was that close. How lovely. And with Dís expecting too.”

“Yeah,” Frerin nodded. “I think Fíli would prefer to be a skunk though. He thinks he’s already waited too long for his sibling, and Dís still has a few months to go.”

At first Bilbo did not at all understand the bit about the skunk, then he realised that Frerin’s familiar, or the people she’d gone to see, or both, were likely skunks. Maybe.

“Congratulations?” Bilbo offered a bit hesitantly. Of course Frerin already had a family. Not that Bilbo-

Giving himself a stern mental pinch Bilbo stopped that particular train of thought right there before it got even sillier.

“Thank you,” Frerin said and smiled warmly at him. “I’m looking forward to being an uncle again.”

Oh.

Uncle.

Licking his lips Bilbo tried to find something to say that wasn’t stupid and/or too forward. But the smile still aimed his way did not help with either of those goals.

However, instead of saying anything he ended up yawning, much to his embarrassment.

“Right,” Bofur said. “Long day. Best get you to bed. Might see you later,” Bofur added to Frerin. “We’re going to see Thorin later today anyway. Bilbo made a handkerchief appear out of nowhere.”

Bilbo was really beginning to wish that he'd conjured something other than a handkerchief. Something just little more exciting. Though Bofur certainly sounded proud enough.

“Is that so?” Frerin asked, and... all right, he did look somewhat impressed. “I’m sure we’ll meet again then. I’ll let my brother know you’re coming.”

“Right,” Bilbo nodded, not knowing what else to say.

After they’d said good-bye and continued on their separate ways down the hallway Bilbo turned to Bofur.

“Why is he going to let his brother know we’re coming? Does he work for the king?”

Bofur snorted. “Close but not quite. His brother is the King.”

It took a few seconds for the realisation to settle inside Bilbo’s mind.

“That was one of the princes?!” Bilbo hissed. “I just met a prince and you didn’t think to warn me?”

“Warn you? He’s hardly going to bite you,” Bofur said offended. “I’m not sure what kind of royalty you’re used to, but ours are fairly well-behaved.”

Chapter Text

When Bilbo woke up it took a few moments for him to remember where he was.

Then he saw the cat sleeping on the foot of the bed, not to mention that it was not his own bed at all, and it all came back to him.

He was pretty sure that it did not paint him in a particularly good light that the thing he was most upset about was not knowing that Frerin was a prince and making a fool out of himself. Surely the Dragon should at least rate higher.

Even if it wasn't as pretty.

Sighing Bilbo melted back into the bed. This was not supposed to be his life. He was quite sure of it.

A soft rumbling sound caught his attention and he looked towards Bofur again to see the cat make a leisurely stretch before curling up again in a fluffy purring ball.

Well, that part was rather nice. Bilbo had never really been one for pets before, after Gandalf disappeared he'd never even considered getting a new cat, but perhaps he'd been missing out.

"Good morning," Bofur said, raising his head up for a yawn that seemed to open his mouth implausibly wide.

Albeit, if he'd gotten a cat off one of the shelters he was pretty sure it wouldn't be talking to him.

"Good morning," Bilbo said, not being able to resist adding: "I hope."

"Sure it'll-" Bofur's ears stiffened. "Wait. What time is it?"

"The time is half ten," a voice said. A voice coming out of nowhere. Bilbo really felt that this had to be pointed out.

"Oh, dear," Bofur said, his eyes now opened wide. “We've overslept. We're going to be late."

He jumped down from the bed and then when Bilbo didn't move, he jumped back up and pawed at his leg. "Come on, Bilbo. We're late!"

"But, what about breakfast?" Bilbo complained even as he crawled out of bed. Apparently when Bofur wasn’t going to sound like someone out of Harry Potter he switched over to Alice in Wonderland instead. If something from Narnia didn’t make an appearance soon Bilbo was going to be horribly disappointed.

"Do you want to be late for your first meeting with King Thorin?" Bofur asked even as he was no help at all, twining around Bilbo’s legs in quick, nervous eights, making it really difficult to put on trousers.

"Well, not particularly," Bilbo said. "But since we're going to be late anyway, wouldn't being late and being full be a better combination than being late and hungry?"

Bofur paused. "Point. We'll stop by the kitchens on our way to the throne room."

-

As he suspected it was bad manner to eat in front of a king, Bilbo made quick work of his sandwhich on the way to the throne room, feeling vaguely bad about the crumbs he was sure to leave behind for someone to sweep up, but really, he had bigger things to worry about.

He was going to the throne room. With a king inside of it. And likely more talking animals.

Indeed. This was not supposed to be his life.

- 

The throne room had a throne, but other than that it was rather empty.

It was a big room, strangely big since there was close to nothing in it. It had to be this big for a reason, so what did they use it for? Ballroom dancing? Markets? Did the Dragon visit sometimes?

As they got closer to the throne and the king seated upon it Bilbo made himself stop speculating. The king was a fairly large dark-haired man, and sitting next to the throne was a decidedly large dog. Bilbo had no idea what sort of dog, but it was large, grey, rather.. fluffy, and did he mention that it was large?

“Hullo, Thorin,” Bofur said cheerfully when they got close enough. “Hullo, Dwalin. I’m sorry we’re late.”

Bilbo stared down at him, jaw trying to get a lot closer to the floor. You did not speak to royalty that way, you just didn’t.

“Bofur,” the king said, and Bilbo hid a wince. That was not the tone of someone pleased to see you. “You’re late. Why did you want to see me?”

Should he introduce himself? Bilbo bit the inside of his cheek. Was that rude? Was it rude not to introduce himself? Why didn’t they teach royal etiquette in schools? Or let you know you might be a witch, and thus someone who might end up with a cat who wouldn’t know subtlety even if it hit him over the head; something subtlety would of course never do.

“My Witch here, Bilbo, made a handkerchief appear out of nowhere,” Bofur said proudly.

Bilbo really, really, truly, wished he'd done something more impressive than a handkerchief.

Like a piano or something. Or at least a table cloth. Hell, why not a piano covered with a table cloth.

There was a terrible bang, clang and ruckus (albeit slightly melodic) as something distinctly heavy landed behind Bilbo.

He closed his eyes. No, nope. He was not going to look.

“I see,” the king said. Slowly. So apparently he had looked.

“If he can’t control his magic he’s dangerous,” someone growled, and as Bilbo did not recognize the voice that had to be the dog, Dwalin, then.

“Dangerous?” Bofur said, offended. “My Witch isn’t dangerous at all. He’s the kindest, gentlest, well-mannered Witch you’ll ever meet. He even fainted when I first talked to him, poor lil’ thing. His mum hadn’t told him what he was.”

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly. Was it possible to combust from embarrassment? He was about to find out.

“He could have dropped that piano on Thorin,” Dwalin growled.

“But he didn’t! It’s not even anywhere near Thorin.”

“If his mother did not tell him he’s had no training at all then?” the king asked, sounding annoyed and impatient and rude, and how could someone as nice as Frerin, Prince Frerin, be that man’s brother? How?

“I’ve not,” Bilbo replied, opening his eyes a fraction. “And please don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the room.”

“He speaks,” the king said drily. ““Let me have your council, Tharkûn.”

A tall, old man with an impressively long grey beard slid out of the shadows. Literally. No, literally. One moment he’d not been there at all, and then next, very much there.

And he looked… strangely familiar.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Bilbo asked, tilting his head to the side. “Have we met before?”

“Oh, many times,” the old man smiled. “But it’s been some time now, dear boy.”

To Bilbo’s comfort, everyone in the room looked as confused as he felt. Wait, on second thought, that was not particularly comforting at all.

“Gandalf?” Bofur asked. “Do you kn-“

“Gandalf!?”

Bilbo took a second look. Scruffy. Blue eyes. Smug expression. Grey… beard. Not fur. But grey.

"Gandalf,” he repeated. “As in my mother’s cat, Gandalf?” He turned to Bofur. “Bofur if you’re not actually a cat, please tell me right now.”

If he was going to share a bed with someone, he had to right to know what species they were. But Bofur didn’t listen to him.

“You used to be a cat?” he asked Gandalf, whiskers twitching. “And now you’re not? That’s horrible.”

Dwalin huffed. "Cats..."

“This is not turning out to be the morning I expected,” the king said and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

Chapter Text

"Accidents can happen to anyone,” Gandalf said mildly. And it was so strange to see those familiar eyes in a very unfamiliar face. Not that the eyes were entirely familiar either, his pupil were round like any ordinary human’s. Only the bit about actually being a cat wasn’t very ordinary.

"Not accidents that turns cats into humans," Thorin said drily. "I'm pretty sure that's new one. Or rather, not new. When exactly did this happen? And why wasn't I informed?"

"Wait, how old are you?" Bilbo asked as he realised that it had been a long time since he last saw Gandalf the cat. "My parents... it's been, I was only 14 when they died and you disappeared the year after that. And you'd been-"

"You were only 14?" Bofur’s tail was puffed out enough to almost be as big as he was. “Bilbo, you were-“

“Well that explains why you didn’t know you were a Witch,” Thorin said and sighed. “Children aren’t told until they come of age.”

“But the little girl-“ Bilbo blinked. “When we arrived we met a little blonde girl, Eowyn.”

“Her powers manifested early,” Bofur explained as he pressed himself against Bilbo’s leg. “Otherwise you’re not to tell children.”

“Why?”

“Two reasons,” Thorin said shortly. “It’s not certain you’ll be a witch just because your parents are and it can be very disappointing even for adults when they realise that they’ll not have any magic. And secondly it’s not a very good idea to ask children to keep secrets like this. It’s not fair and it’s not safe unless they are raised in a safe environment.” Something in the King’s eyes softened. “Though you should not have been left alone without someone in your life to guide you, should your powers have manifested at an earlier age.”

“I’ve watched over him,” Gandalf said, and Bilbo flinched a little when Bofur literally hissed at the old man.

“How wonderful of you,” the cat growled (not literally) at Gandalf. “You stayed for a year and then pranced off to be furless somewhere else. Leaving my poor little Witch all alone. If that’s the sort of person you turn into when you lose your tail then I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

“I was called away on another mission,” Gandalf said and aimed a familiar grey-eyed glare at Bofur. “But I stopped by when I could to check that Bilbo was all right. But it would have been rather strange if I’d walked up and knocked on the door, in either form.”

“Mission?” Thorin asked with a frown. “On whose orders did you go on any mission?”

“On a higher authority’s,” Gandalf replied reservedly.

Bilbo’s head was beginning to hurt. But at least it was a little bit comforting to know that his mother would have told him eventually, if- if the car accident hadn’t happened.

“You whisker-less sack of skin,” Bofur meowed, and a moment later a surprised Bilbo had a very upset Bofur in his arms. “Bilbo, hold me so I don’t do anything I’ll regret. Higher authority my furry arse.”

“Right, we’re going to need to pause this here,” Dwalin interjected. “The piano.”

Oh. Bilbo had almost forgotten the piano, and when he turned around to look at it he discovered that it wasn’t actually there anymore.

“That happened with the handkerchief too,” he explained looking at the grumpy dog. “I can make things disappear too. Rather handy really. Bofur tells me that I should need a spell to do it though.”

“Sure,” the dog said. “But spell or no spell, the piano isn’t actually gone.”

“It’s invisible?” Bilbo asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Look up,” Dwalin sighed, and Bilbo did. The piano was floating just underneath the ceiling, straight up from the spot it’d occupied before.

“Um, so that’s new,” Bilbo admitted, shifting his grip on Bofur when the cat squirmed around to be able to have a look as well.

“Well, you did make the couch float before,” Bofur said comfortingly. “It’s not that strange really. Making things appear literally out of nowhere without anything like a proper spell is much stranger.”

“Thanks,” Bilbo sighed. “I think.”

“And I think that you need to bring that thing down,” King Thorin said. “Gently.”

“Can’t you do it?” Bilbo asked. “Seems safer if someone who knows what they’re doing could-“ he waved his hand at the piano. “Help out.”

“It’s not safe.”

“That’s not safe,” Bilbo argued pointing at the piano. “And I did that.”

“Exactly,” Thorin said. “Your magic created that piano. Or potentially pulled it from somewhere not here. Either way a lot of your magic has already been tied to it, and it is tied to it still since it’s you who are making it float. If we start to manipulate it as well it could end badly.”

“AHA! BUT NOT AS BADLY AS THINGS WILL END FOR YOU, THORIN OAKENSHIELD!”

The voice echoed around the room, and Bilbo would have covered his ears if he’d not had a cat in his arms still.

Or perhaps he wouldn’t, because when he tried to move he realised that he couldn’t. He was frozen on the spot.

“How fortunate that I should have chosen this day to end your miserable life.” A tall, thin man with vibrantly red hair and an entirely too wide grin had appeared in the room, standing between Bilbo and the others, not counting Bofur of course.

“I’d thought to destroy you as well, Gandalf the Grey,” the man said as he twirled around in a happy, if demented looking, circle. “Only now I don’t think it will suit my purpose at all if it’s indeed true and you used to be a cat. No, indeed not. I will take you with me, and with your help I shall finally manage to achieve my ultimate goal!”

The man paused for a few moments. “Is no one going to ask me what it is? No, wait, you can’t talk. Never mind. And you!” He spun around to look at Bilbo. “You’re very interesting aren’t you. Perhaps you can also help me conquer my ultimate goal."

This time when he paused Bilbo didn't know if he'd forgotten that no one was able to ask or if he just wanted it to be a little more dramatic. Because he did continue again after a few seconds of silence.

"My goal of BECOMING A DRAGON. But first…”

The man turned back to face King Thorin, and a large ball of fire appeared in each of his hands.

“Thorin Oakenshield, I am your dea-“

And that’s when the piano landed on him.

-

“Am I going to jail?” Bilbo asked, nervously petting Bofur as Dwalin walked around the piano, sniffing.

“No,” Bofur purred, rubbing his cheek against Bilbo’s. “It was self-defence and you saved our lives and I’m sure the Thorin will very much remember this. Otherwise I think he needs some help with the memory loss problem he would then obviously ha-“

“You’re not going to jail,” the King sighed. “And thank you.”

Bilbo perked up a little, only that feeling disappeared as soon as he glanced at the piano again, and at the pair of feet sticking out from underneath it.

Not Narnia. And admittedly no ruby slippers, but he probably should have seen the Wizard of Oz thing coming anyway.

Chapter Text

 “Yeah, bit too fond of dragons that one. He was known for harassing the one nesting on the roof; Wilbur. Nice fellow.” Bofur nodded along in agreement with himself as he kept turning in smaller and smaller circles on the bed.

Thorin had asked Bilbo to go back to his room, and then there would be the trial that afternoon, no point waiting, better just to have it over and done with. Joy.

“We should go say hi to him later, Wilbur I mean. Nothing wrong with networking a bit while you’re here.”

Bilbo made a non-committal sound and Bofur sighed as he finally curled up in a fluffy ball on the bed. When he next spoke there was a hint of forced cheerfulness in his voice.

“You could show him your handkerchief? I think he'd like it. It's a bit lonely up here these days. And up on the roof in particular I wager."

"I see."

"Bilbo..." 

Bilbo turned from where he’d been looking out the window, meeting concerned green eyes.

“The trial is just going to be a formality,” Bofur said. “There’s nothing to worry about. Thorin is not going to throw you in the dungeons."

"I didn't know dungeons was an option," Bilbo murmured, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. "Dungeons, really?"

Bofur made a small meeping noise. "Um, they came with the house?" he offered. "They're hardly ever used though."

"I'm sorry," Bilbo said. "But that's not comforting."

Silence fell over the room. A soft touch against his trousers made Bilbo look down.

"Can I sit with you?" Bofur asked, eyes wide and pleading, his paw looking so small against Bilbo’s leg.

"I thought eyes like that were a dog thing." Bilbo sighed. "Sure."

Bofur’s ears perked up and a graceful jump later he was making circles on top of Bilbo’s thighs before lying down.

He'd… missed having a cat. Bilbo had not realised it before meeting Bofur, but there was something truly comforting about having a small warm body curl up in his lap. Especially when Bofur started to purr.

Bilbo had always told himself that he’d not want a cat, or any other sort of pet, that he’d not even missed Gandalf when he disappeared, but… It was likely that he’d been wrong. Best not tell Bofur, he’d find a way to blame Gandalf for it. And also… the idea of having Gandalf the cat in his lap... that was a somewhat disturbing one knowing what he knew now, so best not to dwell on it.

"You understand why there has to be a trial, right?" Bofur asked as he nudged his head against Bilbo's hand, his purrs deepening when Bilbo reflexively started to pet him. "Kings can't just go around and decide things on their own, that way we'd be in serious trouble if one came along who wasn't as nice as Thorin."

"Thorin is nice?"

"He's nice," Bofur promised. "Just a little... grumpy."

"Or a lot," Bilbo muttered. "Bofur..."

"Yes?"

"I'm not worried about the trial."

"Good, you shouldn't-"

"But... I've killed someone." Bilbo's hand fell away from Bofur's back. "I- how can I- And with a piano!"

"It was self-defence," Bofur comforted. "And defence of others even. And the piano bit... not your fault."

"Dwalin was right," Bilbo said. "I'm dangerous, aren't I? I didn't mean to kill him, but-"

"Hey, hey," Bofur purred, standing up and bracing his paws against Bilbo's chest. "Accidents happen, but that, that wasn't an accident. Or well, it was, but it was the happy sort of accident?" Bofur winced. "I didn't mean it like that. Just that, if it hadn't happened then things would not be happy at all, and I'm just making things worse, aren't I? Can we start over?"

"By all means."

"What I meant to say is that I understand."

Something, either the cat's expression or his voice, convinced Bilbo that he did understand.

"And whatever I can do to help you, I'll do it." Bofur's eyes narrowed. "Especially if I'm allowed to yell at Gandalf. The nerve of him."

"I think-"

Bilbo was interrupted when someone knocked on the door.

"Frerin," Bilbo said, hands twitching at his sides as he realised that he still looked like a mess. "I mean, your Highness."

"Bilbo." A brilliant smile was aimed Bilbo's way, and then he was being hugged within an inch of his life. "Thank you for saving my brother," Frerin breathed into his ear. "And the others. Thank you. Are you all right? Is there something I can do for you. And please, call me Frerin."

"Um," Bilbo managed, hands flailing a bit, unsure if they should land on Frerin's back or not. The hug should be over soon, it was already a really long hug. Only... it didn’t seem to be ending, so he gingerly placed his hands on the very broad, very solid back, squeezing slightly to see if that would make Frerin let go. Which it did, and Bilbo wasn't at all disappointed.

"My witch is the best," Bofur purred, and Bilbo felt his tail hook around his leg.

"Modest as always." 

Bilbo looked down just in time to see a skunk with a very impressive tail of its own roll its eyes. Her eyes? Because this was Oin, wasn't it?

"Hello?"

"Nice to meet you, lad," the skunk said, nodding up at him. "I'm Óin. You've met my witch already, my condolences."

"Hey," Frerin protested. 

"He tries his best," Óin said apologetically, and Bilbo smiled for the first time since the 'incident'. 

"I'm Bilbo," Bilbo said.

"Oh I know."

Bilbo winced. "I guess you've heard about the piano."

"And the handkerchief.” Óin glanced up at Frerin. "And... other things."

"Other things?"

"All very nice things," Frerin rushed to add. "But please, there has to be something I can do for you?"

Bilbo's cheeks coloured as he thought about a few entirely not suitable, nor decent, things.

“It’s- you don’t owe me any-“

“Erm, Bilbo? Your shirt…”

“My shirt?” Bilbo asked, looking down at his shirt, which seemed normal enough, if a little worse for wear.

“It’s on the back,” Bofur said, voice a little strained, and Bilbo was concerned before he realised that Bofur was simply trying not to laugh.

“May I?” Frerin asked, gently touching his hand to Bilbo’s shoulder, and Bilbo allowed himself to be turned around. “Oh,” was Frerin’s comment.

“What is going on with my shirt?” Bilbo demanded.

“I like it,” Óin said.

“Of course you would,” Bofur snickered. “And you accuse me of not being modest?”

Óin sniffed. “At least your witch has good taste.”

Bofur’s grin was still somewhat alarming. “As do yours I bet. Nice things, eh?”

“Your Highness?” Bilbo asked.

“Frerin,” Frerin protested. “And there’s nothing wrong, your shirt just have… skunks.”

“My shirt has what?”

Bilbo looked down again, at his perfectly normal- was that a tail? As Bilbo looked a small black and white, 2D skunks wandered in over his stomach, followed by two other, smaller, skunks.

“I-“

“There’s more on the back,” Frerin said helpfully.

Chapter Text

The handkerchief had acquired dragons after he’d seen a dragon and his shirt had acquired skunks when he met Óin. It had nothing to do with Frerin what so ever. Nope. Except for Óin being his familiar but that was it. See, hardly a connection at all.

Bilbo tried to cheer himself up by thinking that it could have been worse. His shirt could have disappeared, or ended up with decorations a lot more suggestive than skunks.

The skunks were rather sweet to be honest, and they’d all looked terribly sad when Bilbo had tried to get rid of them. It hadn’t really been working anyway, and he had been afraid of accidentally ending up with no shirt at all, so stopping hadn’t been that much of a sacrifice anyway. And Frerin had said that they looked nice before he left.

Still…

Back in the chair by the window Bilbo looked down at his shirt where one of the skunks were nosing at one of the shirt buttons. “Bofur if I’m going to stay here for a while I really should have brought some other clothes with me. I can’t keep wearing the same thing day out and day in.”

“If you humans had been sensible and had stuck with having fur you wouldn’t need any clothes.” Bofur looked up at him with a look that seemed to say that he really couldn’t understand why Bilbo and all other humans were being so deliberately obtuse.

“I don’t think it’s fair to blame me for something evolution got rid of millions of…? Is it millions of years?” Bilbo frowned. “It’s more than thousands. Thousands of years ago that’s when the pyramids and such were built. People weren’t particularly hairy back then, I’m sure.”

Bilbo was also sure that somewhere his old history teacher was crying.

“The Egyptians really knew how to treat cats right,” Bofur nodded. He sighed and rested his head on his paws. “Those were the days.”

“Um, that’s- you weren’t actually there, were you?” Bilbo asked.

Bofur’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying that I look old? I think I preferred you complaining about my hat.”

“Oh for-“ Bilbo bit his tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with your hat.”

“I should hope so,” Bofur sniffed, hat now firmly in place on his furry little head, not looking apologetic at all about appearing out of thin air. It was unfair, why was that allowed to be normal but Bilbo’s handkerchief (and piano) wasn’t?

“Clothes,” Bilbo sighed, trying to get the conversation back on track. “For me. How to get them. Please?”

“Shopping?”

“Shopping,” Bilbo said flatly.

“Shopping!” Bofur nodded. “Great, we’re agreed. We should have time to get you something nice before the trial.”

“Not robes I hope,” Bilbo muttered, wondering if he was even allowed to go anywhere. Thorin had asked him to return to his room after all. Then again, Bofur did seem to know the rules better than Bilbo, such as the rules were.

“Have you seen anyone wearing robes?” Bofur rolled his eyes.

“Your king had a cape, didn’t he?” Bilbo hadn’t noticed until Thorin had gotten up from the throne, and since there’d been a squished would-be killer beneath a piano at that point, staring at the cape would just have been petty.

Bofur looked a little embarrassed for a moment. “Well, that’s just Thorin. It’s expected, him being king and all. And besides, a cape does not a robe make.” He frowned. “Unless it’s a big cape and you add a couple of buttons and-“

“Shopping you said?” Bilbo asked.

-

Bilbo wasn’t sure what he’d expected to come from Bofur’s suggestion to go shopping, but he’d not expected to end up in a perfectly ordinary shopping mall. To be honest he’d not really expected to be able to leave the magical mansion, and didn’t that sound disturbingly like a children’s television show of some sort? The Magical Mansion, talking cat and all. And here was your host, the Befuddled Bilbo.

At any rate, no one had tried to stop them as they left and here they now were, outside a John Lewis in central Cardiff. It was normal enough that Bilbo’s skin crawled just a little, albeit normal usually didn’t entail:

“I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed bring a cat inside,” Bilbo whispered to Bofur who was stretched out over Bilbo’s shoulders.

“You can say I’m your service animal?” Bofur suggested. “Emotional support?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s all sorts of immoral,” Bilbo protested. “You’re not actually a service animal. And it’s probably illegal too.”

“Fine,” Bofur sighed. “But I really hate being invisible. Puts my fur on end it does.”

There was a flicker at the corner of Bilbo’s eye, and when he turned his head, careful to not jar Bofur enough that he fell down, it was to discover that Bofur’s tail had disappeared.

“Bombur keeps telling me that it’s easier to do it all at once,” Bofur said morosely. “But he also thinks that anchovies are delicious. They’re not. They’re squiggly.”

“Bombur?”

“My brother,” Bofur explained. “His mate is Nori, you remember Nori right? Took them ages to stop pussyfooting around each other, but when they finally stopped they made me an uncle in less than six months.”

“Pus- nope,” Bilbo shook his head.

“Hey, I’m a cat, I’m allowed to use that word for cat things,” Bofur said.

“Oh,” Bilbo said as he realised something else entirely. “I didn’t bring my wallet with me. It’s still back home.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bofur said. “I’ve got mine with me.”

Bilbo; for the sake of his own sanity, decided not to question that.

-

The less said about the actual shopping the better, because while Bilbo returned to the mansion with a new pair of trousers and a couple of shirts, and some much needed pairs of underwear, he was also fairly sure he could never again show his face in downtown Cardiff.

The amount of people who had seen him talking with himself, or rather the invisible cat, were too many to bear thinking about.

Bilbo had tried to be quiet, but Bofur was incredibly chatty and also had horrible taste in clothing. If he’d been allowed to choose Bilbo would have ended up in some purple flower-patterned monstrosity of a shirt.

And pink trousers.

Bilbo shivered.

“Go on and shower and change now,” Bofur prompted. “I’ll get us some food.”

It wasn’t until he was stepping out of the shower Bilbo realised that it’d been several hours since he’d thought about what had happened that morning.

Shopping with Bofur, from the public humiliation to occasionally being worried about his skunk-infested shirt (even though it’d been covered by his jacket Bilbo had not been sure that the skunks wouldn’t just spread to the nearest piece of clothing, had at least done wonders to distract him from what his brain had elected to name the ‘Piano Incident’.

Hopefully the trial would go just as quickly and easily as Bofur thought.

-

“Let’s get started,” said Princess Dís, whom Bilbo had just been introduced to. She was very pretty and very pregnant and she was to be the judge because apparently it was frowned on for the king to be the judge of trials when he was one of the key witnesses. The entire concept of having the king be the judge in the first place sounded a little strange, but knowing what he did about his own country’s justice system Bilbo bit his tongue.

The princess Dís looked kind, if a little impatient, but considering that it looked as if she'd swallowed a very large melon Bilbo didn't blame her for being a bit short tempered. He got cranky enough after eating too many biscuits. And biscuits never tended to kick your internal organs.

“Bilbo, if you could tell us what happ-“

“DID YOU THINK IT WOULD BE THAT EASY TO KILL ME!?”

Chapter Text

"What are you, a horror film villain?" Bilbo did not say, because he was too busy staring wide-eyed at the red smoke swirling around in the middle of the room. It was a very ominous swirl, and Bilbo was fairly sure he’d never seen smoke look this threatening before. Unless you counted the smoke monster from Lost, but as that was fictional he wasn’t going to.

Even that smoke monster hadn’t spoken though, particularly not with the voice belonging to someone Bilbo had accidentally dropped a piano on. (Bilbo felt a sting of guilt when he realised that he rather regretted not summoning a heavier piano.)

You couldn’t drop a piano on smoke, was a particularly insistent thought that kept coming to mind, and that was not at all helpful and Bilbo wished that his mind would stop repeating it and instead think of something helpful. But no such luck.

Technically you could do it, drop a piano on smoke that was, but it very likely wouldn’t do any good. There wasn’t anything to, um, squish. No matter how heavy the piano. Not that the measures that were currently being taken against the smoke seemed to help any.

The ones that were present at the now interrupted trial were - excepting Bilbo, Bofur and Dís - also Thorin, Frerin and their familiars, and also and Gandalf and someone called Bard. No familiar, and Bilbo hadn’t even been sure if he was a witch or not. His sole purpose seemed to have been to stand in a corner and look handsome and brooding.

At the moment Bilbo was fairly sure he was actually a witch, since this Bard was amongst those trying to use magic on the manically laughing cloud of smoke. Trying and failing, rather miserably at that.

It wasn’t saying good things about Bilbo’s sanity that he couldn’t help but notice that the blue shine from the runes that Frerin had somehow managed to sketch up in the air really made Frerin’s eyes look unfairly pretty. But at least he wasn’t alone, Bilbo was fairly sure that he’d heard a couple of the skunks on his shirt sigh dreamily.

Making Frerin look prettier was all the runes seemed to be doing though. The smoke kept swirling in a more and more sinister looking way, and the cackling kept getting louder.

Dis’ and Thorin’s bright flashes of lightening seemed to have as much of an effect as the runes, that was to say none, and same for Bard’s green and blue sparkles.

Eyes darting around the room Bilbo tried to figure out what to do.

What would be a good weapon against a cloud of evil smoke?

A fire alarm?

A fire blanket?

No, no, and Bilbo was very annoyed at the saying that there wouldn’t be smoke without fire as his mind had clearly taken that to heart and wanted to extinguish something that wasn’t even there.

…a fire extinguisher?

Oh for-

Think, Bilbo told himself. There had to be something he could do. What did people use to get rid of smoke?

They… flicked on the kitchen fan? Well, that could work. Sort of. But it wouldn’t really solve the problem. The smoke would just be sucked up into-

Bilbo’s eyes widened as he got an idea.

Bofur hissed at the sudden whooshing, wheezing sound and his tail puffed out even more until it was almost as big as he was.

“Bilbo what are you-“

“I have no idea,” Bilbo said faintly as he aimed the vacuum cleaner at the smoke.

-

“I can’t believe that worked,” Bard said as he stared down at the shuddering vacuum cleaner. It was glowing a dark red, and the power cord was twitching, but it seemed to be holding up.

“I need to sit down,” Bilbo said faintly and indeed sat down, at the floor, just narrowly avoiding Bofur’s tail.

“That shouldn’t have worked,” Bard said, nudging the vacuum cleaner with his foot, causing it to jerk.

Bilbo made a small noise and stretched himself out flat on the floor, which was blessedly cool and not magical at all and-

The vacuum cleaner imploded with a large bang.

“HOW DARE YOUUUUU!”

Bilbo felt a lot like crying when the smoke billowed out of the destroyed vacuum cleaner.

It wasn’t fun being a witch. It wasn’t fun at all.

“I guess it didn’t work,” Bard said as Bilbo scrambled up on his feet, backing away from the smoke that was now heading straight for him, slithering over the floor like only something incredibly unpleasant could slither.

“Perhaps it’s your turn to think of something now?”

“I WILL BURN YOU!”

“Any day now,” Bilbo said as he smacked into the wall.

“No, but that's the right idea,” Frerin breathed. “We just- fortifying spells. And something to- Bilbo can you summon a large glass box? Like an aquarium or-“

“YOUR BONES WILL BE-“

Bilbo swallowed and closed his eyes. Bofur yowled. Thorin said something, Bilbo wasn’t sure what, he was busy trying all that he could to not panic, and to magic up a glass box, in that order.

When the glass box appeared it appeared about four feet up in the air and immediately fell down and smashed into a million pieces. The smoke wasn’t even a little squished and slithered on unhindered.

“Close,” Frerin said encouragingly. “One more try, I’ll catch it this time.”

And so he did, or so Bilbo assumed because the box floated softly to the floor. But not only that, Frerin also did… something. There was a new rune, a red one this time, on the top of the box, and as soon as that appeared there was a small popping sound and the smoke started to slide into the box, likely not out of its own free will considering the loud protests from it.

“Now is the time to try and make this strong enough to hold him,” Frerin gritted out, and the way his hands weaved brightly coloured patterns in the air was beautiful and fascinating and made Bilbo’s stomach protest a little as the runes were now swirling in the air, quickly enough that Bilbo got dizzy looking at them.

He’d no sooner begun to look away though before there was a new popping sound and all the runes plastered themselves on the glass box.

It wasn’t long before they were accompanied by long, glowing chains of light, and bright green, glittering ribbons.

Bilbo couldn’t help but to look down at his shirt, where a skunk was turning around in a circle trying to catch its tail. Making things appeared out of nowhere was all well and good Bilbo supposed, but it would have been… nice, if his magic had been a little more pleasing to look at, not to mention a bit more sophisticated, and above all, less concerned with his clothes.

“Right,” Dís said and took a deep breath, one arm protectively curled over her belly. “I think that might actually hold. Careful everyone, don't step on the glass shards."

There came a somewhat ominous rumble from the glass box, but nothing more. There was so many brightly glowing spells on it that it was a little hard to look directly at it. If an over the top Christmas tree had a child with a garishly wrapped Christmas present the result would be somewhere along the lines of what they know had in front of them. Possibly with a lava lamp as the third parent as the smoke kept swirling inside of it.

“I’ll go get some wet towels to put over it, just in case,” Bard said, and everyone blinked at him.

“Towels?” Bofur asked, whiskers twitching. “Wet towels?”

"No baths," Dwalin said firmly.

“Smoke is just solid particles suspended in gas,” Bard said and crossed his arms. “So the solid bits will stick to the wet towel and-" he shrugged. "No more smoke. I don’t see why this wouldn’t be true in this case as well.”

His tone of voice said that he was very disappointed in all of them for not paying more attention during their chemistry lessons, and Bilbo got the distinct impression that Bard had to be a father. Possibly to a whole bunch of kids. You did not acquire the disappointed parent voice without a fair bit of practice.

“I’m going to lie down again,” Bilbo declared to everyone and no one, and proceed to do just that. It wasn’t long before a purring Bofur trotted over to nudge his head along Bilbo’s jaw.

“Good job, Bilbo.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Frerin said as he knelt down on the floor next to the both of them. “You saved us, saved Thorin again, and Dís and-“

“No, no, no,” Bilbo protested, awkwardly scrambling up into a sitting position. “Whatever you did on the box, all of you, that saved us.”

“We could not have done it without you,” Frerin smiled, and Bilbo was helpless to do anything but smile back, and that in turn widened Frerin’s smile even more.

Quite possibly Bilbo got so caught up in looking at Frerin's lips that he almost missed the words coming from them.

"May I kiss you?”

Bilbo almost fell over, and Bofur made a small meeping noise. From Óin’s direction came a large snort.

“You-" Bilbo flailed a little. "Please tell me that you don't feel obliged to-“

Frerin leaned in and softly brushed his lips over Bilbo’s.

“You’re really cute,” he said, and Bilbo blinked, then flushed.

If he’d looked down at his shirt in that moment he would have seen the skunks all paired up, every tail curved just so, and forming one half of many, many small hearts.           

“And you’re unfairly handsome." Frerin's grin widened further and BIlbo's eyes grew round when he realised what he'd just said. "I mean-“

“Frerin.”

That was Thorin who had spoken, and Bilbo flinched. Oh, right. They weren’t alone. And Frerin was a prince. And brother of a King who was now glaring at Bilbo. At least the Princess Dís was looking pleased enough.

“Oh shush, Thorin," she said.  "As Smaug is not actually dead I think we can skip the trial.” Dís winked at Bilbo. “I hereby declare you entirely innocent. Frerin, would you be so kind to escort Mister Baggins to his room again. I think a nap would do him good, I know I’m going to aim for one. Or if you feel up to it, Mister Baggins, you could take pity on Frerin and take him to lunch.”

“Dís,” Frerin protested.

“I do not think that is appropriate,” Thorin said sternly and Dís waved a hand at him.

“If I’d let your sense for what’s appropriate guide me then you wouldn’t have a nephew and this one-“ she gently patted her belly. “Wouldn’t be here either. And I don’t think Mister Baggins will get Frerin pregnant.”

“Please call me Bilbo,” Bilbo said faintly.

Chapter Text

“I’m glad you decided to stay a while longer.”

“So am I,” Bilbo said, daring to reach out and take Frerin’s hand, giving it a small squeeze before letting it go again.

“Ah, ah,” Frerin said and caught Bilbo’s hand in his own. “Finders keepers. When you have my hand you need keep it for a little longer than that. Oh, that reminds me of something,” Frerin added as he twined their fingers together. “I’ve figured out a good way to test if the things you’re summoning exist already before you bring them here, or if you create them. It would be good to find out.”

“All right,” Bilbo said. “Why not. It’s not like it would hurt to know.”

Frerin fished his mobile up out of his pocket, quickly pressing buttons and flicking at it until he presented it to Bilbo.

“This is the Arkenstone,” Frerin explained as Bilbo looked at the photo of a softly glowing jewel on the small screen. “There’s only one of it in the entire world, so if you can-

Bilbo almost jumped three feet in the air when alarm suddenly started shrieking.

“Um, right,” Frerin said, looking wide-eyed down at the radiant stone in Bilbo’s hand. “Good job, that was, erm, quick. We better put that back before Thorin misses it.”

“Unless he’s suddenly deaf I think he’ll know already,” Bilbo said drily. He sent a slightly worried look at the stone covering most of his palm. “I’m not going to have to go through another trial, am I?”

“Depends on how quickly we can get it back,” Frerin said, tugging at their connected hands.

“I can try and-“

“Since we’re not sure what happens to things when you get rid of them we best not,” Frerin said quickly. “Come on, I’ll race you there. Last one to the throne room has to explain to Thorin.”

“But it was your idea,” Bilbo protested, allowing himself to be pulled along down the hallway, Frerin’s warm hand holding on to his own, and Frerin’s bright blue eyes smiling at him.

“And it’s in your favour that Thorin knows about what sorts of ideas I get,” Frerin nodded. “You’re still the one with the stone though.”

“At least it doesn’t have any skunks on it,” Bilbo murmured, and Frerin snickered and squeezed his hand as they continued towards the throne room.