Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In Dwarven culture, one proposes by demonstrating your skills in your chosen profession, whether that be miner, jewellery maker, warrior or as in Thorin’s case, King of Erebor. As such, Thorin would need to demonstrate his ability to rule and protect. It would have been great if Bilbo had been told any of this before Thorin showed up at the door to his rooms.

It was very early in the morning when Bilbo heard a knock at his door, really it wasn’t even time for first breakfast, not the time Bilbo wanted to be entertaining guests. Yawning, he slipped out of bed and pulled on his quilted robe and slowly staggered his way to his door whilst his legs were still waking up.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he wretched the heavy wooden door open to reveal the sight of Thorin standing, very majestically, before him, wearing full armour and a dark blue cloak, held in a silver clasp on one shoulder and bearing a very serious expression.

Not fully taking in the fact his beloved looked ready for war, Bilbo gave him a sleepy smile, “Morning Thorin... you’re up early,” he noted, moving forward to give him a kiss on his bearded cheek.

But before he could get any further, Thorin swept Bilbo up into his arms, ignoring his cries of shock and protest as Thorin started to run down the hall carrying a now very awake and disgruntled hobbit.

“Thorin!? What in all of Yavanna’s good earth are you doing? Slow down! You’ll end up tripping and landing on me at this rate!” Bilbo cried, wriggling in the dwarf’s strong arms which only caused his grip to tighten further.

“I would never drop you Ghivashel, I would carry you to the ends of Middle Earth,” Thorin murmured out between breaths into Bilbo’s ear.

Why did dwarves have to be so blooming dramatic? Really! “I don’t need you to carry me to the ends of Middle Earth Thorin! I’m perfectly capable of walking thank you very much! Now put. Me. Down!” Bilbo cried, ceasing in his wriggling to glare at the dwarf, what in all the Arda had gotten into him?

Thorin stopped then, skidding to a stop to stare down at Bilbo with a look which was almost heartbreaking, “You’re rejecting me,” he whispered, still not releasing his hold on the now frozen hobbit.

“Rejecting you? No I’m not rejecting you-” he was cut off as Thorin immediately started running down the halls again, his face clearing of sorrow and being replaced by strong determination.

Bilbo huffed and crossed his arms as best he could against his chest, relaxing into the dwarf’s hold when he realised that the only way he was going to get to the bottom of his dwarf’s peculiar behaviour was to wait it out.

They’d been courting for many months now, exchanging gifts and being chaperoned through dinners and dances. If it was one thing Bilbo had learned, it was that you could not rush a dwarf for anything, they hadn’t even been allowed to kiss up until recently which was a huge relief for them both. After all that pining on the quest and months of traditional dwarven courting, they’d taken to the physical contact stage quite readily, even if they hadn’t progressed further than that. Anything was a blessing.

Now that Bilbo had finally relaxed into the dwarf’s strong arms, he began to notice the looks they were getting from the dwarrows they met along the corridors and halls. They looked positively overjoyed, much to his confusion. As they passed one particularly excitable dwarrowdam, she positively squealed at them both, causing Bilbo to jump slightly at the sudden noise- she and her friend swooning after them.

And as they passed a group of guards, they stood to full attention, saluting them both and crying after them, “Hail King Thorin and Royal Consort Bilbo!” This was just getting weird now... Bilbo was used to getting a lot of attention as the saviour of Erebor and the King as well as being Thorin’s consort, but never had the guards shouted at them when passing through the corridors.

And why was Thorin wearing all that pointy armour? It was hardly comfortable, and here was Bilbo just lying in his arms, like a young Hobbit lass, wearing nothing but a nightshirt and robe. There can't have been an attack going on, the other dwarves and guards looked far too relaxed.

Thorin did not slow in the slightest as he carried a pouting Bilbo up many stairs, all the way up the top levels that Bilbo had not had the chance to explore a great deal. They’d only recently been restored after the damage dealt to them from the dragon’s attack.

When they came to Bofur leaning against a pillar, he almost jumped out his skin when he saw them, his eyes widening with glee, “Nori! Nori!” he called to the wall behind him which opened up to reveal the spymaster.

“About bloody time! I’ll rouse the others, looks like Dwalin’s won this bet,” he replied before disappearing back into the shadows.

About what time? What bet? Bilbo wanted to shout after them but Thorin quickly carried him out of earshot. The great lump wasn’t even out of breath Bilbo observed sullenly.

He was carried through a narrow corridor before they emerged on a snowy outcrop, Thorin slowing to a steady walk as he carried him through the great drifts to stand close to the edge, overlooking the area surrounding the mountain and the sprawling city of Dale. Bilbo was finally allowed the return to his feet as they gazed out at the kingdom, hand in hand.

“Oh... goodness...” Bilbo whispered as he took in the sight before him.

Dawn was breaking over the horizon, the golden light warming their faces and causing the snow to sparkle around them. Long shadows were cast when the light hit the city, the sandstone shining in the morning sun. Bilbo didn’t even notice the cold. He was far too distracted by the breathtaking sight in front of him, his previous annoyance forgotten. He turned to look at his dwarf, and realised that Thorin was watching him, his eyes warmer than the sun and a soft smile gracing his lips.

“What’s going on?” he asked Thorin softly who only grinned wider before dropping to his knee in front of the gaping hobbit, holding one of his hands between two of Thorin’s calloused ones.

Thorin squeezed his hand gently, “Bilbo Baggins, I have courted you in the traditional ways of my kin. If someone would have told me a few years ago that I would be lucky enough to have you in my life, when I did not feel I deserved such happiness after failing my subjects-”

The king held up his hand when Bilbo opened his mouth to protest before continuing, “I would have told them that such a fair creature was not meant for a dusty old dwarf such as me. A creature so fair, he surely belonged to the trees and flowers, not the dark halls in which I resided.”

He heaved a deep breath before continuing, “I have carried you here, demonstrating my strength to you and shown you the kingdom I reside over where I shall protect you always, in the hope of bringing our courtship to its close.”

Bilbo’s blood ran cold... “You don’t wish to court me anymore?” he whispered confused, a pain stabbing at his chest.

“No Bilbo, you silly hobbit, I do not,” Thorin replied softly, squeezing Bilbo’s hand again reassuringly, “I wish to marry you.”

Bilbo froze, his brain struggling to process what was happening. Thorin wanted to marry him. He knew this was coming at some point, but he’d given up waiting when the months of courting ceremonies would not end, figuring that it would happen when it happened. And now it was happening! Tears pricked his eyes as he stared down at his dwarf, unable to form the words in his mouth as he felt overwhelmed by the sheer joy he felt.

“Amralime?” Thorin asked concerned, his smile slipping as he noticed Bilbo’s tears. Moving one hand out of Bilbo’s he gently wiped away a tear tracking its way down his cheek with a stroke of his thumb. Bilbo caught the hand, holding it to his cheek and pressing a kiss to the palm.

“Yes, you sappy old dwarf, of course I’ll marry you!” Bilbo blurted out between tears and Thorin immediately gathered him up in his arms, twirling him around laughing as cheers exploded around them. The company coming out of their hiding places in the rocks to move forward and congratulate the couple.

When Thorin set Bilbo back on his feet, he cradled the hobbit’s cheeks between his hands and leant down to press a kiss to his waiting lips, ignoring the company around them, nothing was going to stop him showing his hobbit how much he cared. Warmth exploded in Bilbo’s chest as he kissed his fiancé back, tangling his hands in Thorin’s locks to pull him closer.

The company smirked around them, some looking away to give the couple some privacy whilst they kissed, others just watching in amusement. Fili and Kili giggled like a couple of dwarflings as they watched their uncles break off the kiss with reluctance.

Thorin smiled down at Bilbo, his cheeks almost hurting with the intensity of his smile, “Come,” he said, holding out his hand, “We have a wedding to plan,” causing the dwarves to erupt in cheers again.

Bilbo grinned back at his soon-to-be husband as he took hold of the dwarf’s much larger hand. He felt as though he was walking on the clouds- after all, how difficult was it to plan a dwarven wedding?

Chapter Text

“I want to invite the Elves of the Woodland realm,” Bilbo declared one night over dinner with Thorin and the company.

The reaction was instant. The company immediately stopped eating to stare dumbly at the Hobbit before erupting into shouts and protests. Dwalin, who had been chewing on a chicken leg like a Warg, ended up chocking and spluttering profusely when he’d sucked in a breath as well as the bone, his face slowly turning purple. Balin, the only one managing to stay calm, began thumping the dwarf on the back whilst chaos ensued around him.  

“Why would you do that to us Bilbo?!” Kili cried.

“Ents?!” Oin yelled, “What do you want trees here for lad?”

“Not Ents Oin! Elves!” Gloin shouted into his ear trumpet.

“Elves? You mustn’t be well Bilbo, let me check your head,” Oin yelled up the table at the startled Hobbit, making his way out of his seat.

“No... no... no,” Ori moaned as though he’d just been told he’d have to eat lettuce for the rest of his life.

Bifur grunted and gestured wildly in Khuzdul, causing the dwarves around him to cheer in agreement. His Khuzdul was still very poor, but Bilbo managed to make out the words, “Thranduil... glue... crown...” and he put the rest together for himself.

“If he brings that bloody moose here, I swear I’m going to turn it into a soup and secretly serve it to the poncey Elf at the feast,” Fili grumbled, still not having forgiven the Elk for defecating outside his tent after the battle which he’d then stood in, much to his brother’s amusement... until Fili had mixed some into Kili’s hair oil and they’d both ended up with only Bilbo willing to tend to their wounds. Bilbo didn’t think he’d ever get the smell out of his nose, it had stung something fierce.

The bone that had been stuck in Dwalin’s throat then went sailing across the table, hitting Bofur’s hat off of his head and knocking him off of his chair when the toymaker jumped violently in surprise. In other circumstances, Bilbo might have laughed, but he was slowly becoming less and less amused.

“I could lead him down a wrong tunnel during the ceremony and leave him there...” Nori plotted, “By the time he found his way back, it would all be over and we wouldn’t have to suffer!” The dwarves cheered in agreement.

“Stop!” Bilbo shouted at the dwarves around him who turned to meet his gaze once more as he jumped to his feet, “No Bifur you will not be gluing Thranduil’s crown to his head unless you want me to glue that beard of yours up your nose. Fili I don’t care whether that Elk has to sit on your lap throughout the entire thing, you will not harm it! And Nori, you will not be getting the Elves lost in the depths of Erebor or I’ll personally search for them myself. Oin I’m fine,” he said swatting away the healer’s hands, “Honestly! They’re not even that bad!” However that turned out to be the wrong thing to say as they erupted in shouts once more.

“Not that bad?!” Kili started once more.

“They locked us in cells!” Bofur cried as he crawled back into his seat, firmly pulling his hat back onto his head.

“Well yes...” Bilbo conceded but was interrupted once more.

“And brought an army to attack us!” Dwalin croaked, his face still red and eyes streaming from coughing.

“Yes but you did-”

“And they chased us down a river!” Bombur cried through a mouthful of food.

Bilbo sat down with a defeated thump as the dwarves continued to throw back at him every tiny thing the Elves have done over the past two hundred years. Really, who cares whether an Elf once looked at them funny, the dwarves did that all the time.

Gaping, he turned to Thorin, sat next to him at the head of the table, for help. The King sat there frozen, face pale, staring at Bilbo as though he’d just sprouted antlers that Thranduil’s Elk would have been proud of.

“Thorin will you stop staring at me like I’ve shaved your beard off and help?” Bilbo asked furiously, gesturing at the company.

That seemed to snap Thorin out his daze as he jumped to his feet and yelled, “Shazara!” the dwarves instantly falling silent.

Thorin cleared his throat and turned to Bilbo, saying in a lower and more controlled tone, “Bilbo if you’d speak with me outside?” already leaving his seat and walking towards the adjoining sitting room. Bilbo rolled his eyes and started after the dwarf before turning back to the company one last time.

“If I hear so much as a peep out of any of you about what you’re going to do to the Elves, I swear I will braid all your heads together so tightly it’ll take you days to undo them!” Bilbo threatened, waving a finger at the all. He felt some satisfaction at their stunned and horrified faces before following his soon-to-be husband out of the room, shutting the door with a click so they could talk in private.

Thorin stood with his back to Bilbo who crossed his arms in exasperation. It wasn’t as though he was asking the Elves to move in permanently.

When Thorin finally turned to face him, his face was the perfect mask of control, “Why do you want to invite the Elves?” he asked, his voice betraying his grumpiness.

“Because Thorin, despite the fact that they locked you all in cells-”

“-and chased us down a river,” Thorin added.

“Yes, I’ve heard it all from the bearded idiots next door. What I’m saying is you have an alliance with the Elves now and it will help to build relations if you do this. Plus they’re not all that bad once you get over all the kidnapping and refusing to help stuff, Legolas is perfectly alright.”

“But he’s Thranduil’s son,” Thorin replied sullenly. He was sulking worse than a fauntling who’d broken their favourite toy.

“And you’re Thrain’s son, and I’m Bungo’s son and Balin is Fundin’s son!” Bilbo responded exasperatedly, “It doesn’t matter! To be honest Thranduil will probably just send his son in his place anyway- I'm sure he'll enjoy pretending to be happy for you as much as you will enjoy pretending to be happy he came.”

“Who says I’ll be pretending anything?”

“I am! Come on Thorin, this is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives, surely not even a few Elves could ruin that.”

“We could stage a fake wedding...” Thorin muttered, more to himself as he thought his plan through.

“What?” Bilbo frowned, what in Yavanna’s good earth was the dwarf on about now.

“We could have a fake wedding and invite them... then have the real wedding with them not there,” Thorin continued.

Bilbo gaped at him, “No! I am not marrying you twice just so you don’t have to put up with a few pouting dwarves. You’ll be with me the whole time after all, just let me do all the talking.”

Thorin was silent for a moment as he weighed up Bilbo’s offer, “Fine... you can invite them,” Bilbo sighed with relief, but then Thorin held up a finger, “If I can invite all these relatives I’ve heard so much about... the Sad-mice Baggins was it?”

“It’s Sackville-Baggins,” although, Bilbo didn’t really cared what Thorin called them, “and why in the blazes do you want to invite them? They’re awful! You can invite Drogo and Primula, they’re probably the only ones willing to leave the Shire anyway.”

“You should have some family there and I’m curious,” Thorin replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“You’re curious? Yes I was once curious about how many teeth a Fell Beast has but I’m not going to walk all the way to Mordor and stick my head in one of their mouths just to find out!”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t let you get into such danger,” Thorin murmured and Bilbo’s anger may have dissipated a little. But only a little bit, he still couldn’t believe Thorin wanted to meet his insufferable relatives.

Bilbo huffed, “You’re changing the subject. Trust me, if you invite that lot, it won’t be dragons you’ll have to worry about looting your treasure chamber. I swear Lobelia’s part dragon judging by the way she sniffs out all my mother's jewelry even when I've hid it in places no normal hobbit should find.”

“Don’t worry Ghivashel, I’ll have Dwalin escort them around Erebor so they don’t get lost,” Thorin assured him with a wry grin.

Now that was tempting... seeing how Lobelia and Otho took to the fierce dwarf who looked ready to split skulls even when he was laughing. It had taken Bilbo weeks on the quest before he’d realised that Dwalin was actually a very kind, albeit a very scary dwarf, who had been trying to ask Bilbo what in Mahal’s name Conkers was but Bilbo would run off every time the dwarf called his name, fearing that Dwalin wanted Bilbo to spar with him. Lobelia would probably take one look at his bulging muscles and sharp axes and faint right then and there. That's if she was still conscious when he'd introduced Thorin as his intended. 

He chuckled at the image, finally being able to return Thorin’s smile, “Fine, but only if Dwalin’s watching them like a hawk,” he relented, moving forward to wrap his arms around his dwarf and bury his head in his chest, he felt a headache coming on. Thorin returned the gesture and buried his nose in Bilbo’s curls. “I don’t like it when we fight over something stupid,” Bilbo added.

“Nor me Amralime,” Thorin agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll send the ravens out to Mirkwood, Dale and the Shire tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, moving back to press a peck to the dwarf’s lips. “We still need to think of who else we’re inviting.”

“Well, my sister Dís should be arriving in a few days with a caravan from the Blue mountains so she’ll be here. Then we’ll have to invite the nobles...”

“Ugh do we have to? I swear none of them has seen a hobbit before in their lives. One asked me the other day if I was a Dwelf! A Dwelf! He warmed up to me a bit after I told him that no, I was not descended from a ‘scandalous’ pairing of an Elf and a dwarf. I mean, I can understand the height and the ears thing but where does he think I got the feet from? Really!” Bilbo babbled.

Thorin just snorted at him, rubbing small circles into the small of Bilbo’s back with his thumbs, knowing just how to placate his hobbit. “All the more reason to invite your relatives, they can be thoroughly educated.”

Bilbo hummed. “I’m not sure I want the Sackville’s representing the Hobbits of the Shire. I guess we could invite Hamfast as well, although he and his wife were talking of having a child just before I left.”

“We’ll send one anyway,” Thorin smiled, “And then we’ll need to invite Dain and his wife and nobles.”

“That’s fine, Dain’s not too bad. Although he better behave with the elves. I can’t believe he told Thranduil to ‘sod off’ right before a battle, I can see your diplomacy skills run in the family.”

“I was surprised he was so polite... But I’ll have a word with him,” Thorin assured, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead, temporarily soothing the hobbit’s building headache. Bilbo closed his eyes, relaxing into his fiancé’s hold.

“And that pig’s not coming in either. He can stay with the Elk outside, I don’t trust it with the food and cake.”

“We’ll sort out the food tomorrow,” Thorin sighed, he’d had enough of wedding planning for one night and just wanted to curl up with his hobbit.

“Alright,” Bilbo agreed, “Let’s go and break the good news to the others.”

“As you wish,” Thorin smirked in amusement. They weren’t going to be happy that the Elves were coming but then it wasn’t them getting married.

Chapter Text

Thorin didn’t think he’d ever eat again.

After he’d attended court and sent the Ravens to the Shire, Mirkwood and Dale to invite the guests outside of Erebor, Thorin had returned to his chambers to the smell of cooking. Excited by the prospect of Bilbo’s cooking, he’d entered their small kitchen to find various dishes covering all available surfaces. Bilbo hadn’t just cooked... he’d cooked enough to feed an army.

Gaping, he watched as Bilbo pulled out, what appeared to be various roasted vegetables out of the oven. At least that was what Thorin assumed they were, he’d seen vegetables in a book once and had briefly glimpsed them in Rivendell, but he’d been too busy scowling at the Elves to notice what poison they were feeding them.

“Bilbo?” he queried, confused by what could have possible come over the hobbit.

Bilbo whipped round at his words, oven mitts still on his tiny hands. “Ah Thorin! You’re just in time. I’ve been preparing samples of dishes I think we should serve at the wedding feast. Take a seat and you can tell me what you think,” Bilbo answered, beaming and gesturing at the kitchen table.

Gulping, Thorin slipped into the seat at the table as Bilbo placed the first dish in front of him. He stared down at it, frowning whilst he tried to work out what exactly it was. It was a plate with what appeared to be various long green sticks sat on it. They were steaming slightly and Thorin couldn’t place the smell. Carefully, he picked up his fork and speared one on the end of it, lifting it into the air to get a better look at the green thing. It flopped slightly in the air. Thorin still had no idea what it was.

Looking up at Bilbo, he saw the hobbit watching him intensely, waiting for his approval, “What is it?” he asked as pleasantly as he could but after hours of sitting in court, listening to insufferable nobles and issues of his people, his voice came out a little gruffer than he’d intended. It wasn’t his fault, he’d had to settle a squabble between two dwarves regarding who had copied the other in their beard braiding design, an argument which had resulted in their families declaring a blood feud that Thorin had had to settle lest he have over 50 less dwarves in his kingdom. Could they not tell that he’d rather ride Thranduil’s Elk naked through Mordor than settle such a petty dispute which had taken up the majority of court time?!

Bringing himself back to the present, he watched as Bilbo smile faltered. “They’re asparagus... I’ve roasted them with chives and butter...” the hobbit’s eyes were fixed on his face, desperate for approval of his cooking which had no doubt taken him hours. Great... now he felt bad, why did Bilbo have to look so cute when he was insecure? It had driven him mad at the start of the quest, the looks Bilbo would give him after Thorin yelled at him just making it worse.

As for the asparagus... he’d never heard of it. Managing a small smile, he bit the end off and chewed, allowing the flavour to fill his mouth. Oh Mahal... was Bilbo actually trying to kill him? They tasted bitter... and like the underside of an Elf’s boot. Not that he’d ever licked an Elf’s boot... well maybe once when he was 15, Frerin had dared him to do it when Elven dignitaries stayed in Erebor. Not an experience he’d ever expected to repeat. He chewed quickly and swallowed to rid his mouth of the taste that left an even worse after- taste.

But he couldn’t tell Bilbo that, his face looked so hopeful, his eyes wide and staring. “Delicious,” Thorin said as sincerely as he could, even managing to turn the grimace he was suppressing into what he hoped was a smile.

Judging by the way Bilbo’s eyes lit up, he’d pulled it off. “Really? Great! Well they’re an option as an appetiser. Don’t eat them all yet though, you’ve got plenty more dishes to try!” he beamed.

Thorin’s stomach growled discontentedly. “Can you get me some water please?” he asked. He needed to get the offending taste out of his mouth before it permanently damaged his taste buds. Although what he really wanted was Ale, being slightly drunk may help him get through this. But he knew Bilbo would want him sober.

“Oh yes of course! You’ll want a clean palate for the next course. How silly of me,” Bilbo prattled as he dashed off to pour Thorin a glass of water, placing the drink in front of the dwarf.

Thorin grabbed the drink immediately, downing it in one and almost groaning in the relief he felt when the taste finally left his mouth.

“...I’ll just get you some more water then,” Bilbo said frowning at Thorin’s sudden thirst. “And I’ll grab the next dish!” he added, hurrying off.

The blood drained from Thorin’s face, putting out a silent prayer to Mahal that whatever was brought forward next would contain at least a little bit of meat. He wasn’t asking for much... just a sliver of bacon, a chunk of steak, a piece of pork... anything!

But as Bilbo placed the next dish in front of him, he quickly took back his prayer, the phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’ taunting his mind. Thorin could recognise this dish at least, he should be able to after being buried in a barrel full of it after all. On his plate was a fillet of fish... salmon by the looks of it. After having his majesticness tainted by the experience of being smuggled in a barrel of fish, Thorin had never wanted to look at, let alone eat, fish again.

“Steamed salmon fillet with lemon,” Bilbo said, waiting by Thorin’s elbow yet again for his reaction.

Taking a deep breath, then another, Thorin picked up his fork, willing his hand not to shake as he stabbed the smallest flake of the fish he thought he could get away with. He took one last look at Bilbo’s expression to remind himself to use all his Kingly control before he shoved the fish into his mouth, chewing and swallowing with increased fervour. It wasn’t unpleasant Thorin was willing to admit... but did he want unpleasant memories brought up on their wedding day? No, he did not.

And yet, he pulled his face into a smile and chocked out, “Lovely,” before reaching for the water again. He was glad Bilbo was not asking him to elaborate; he knew Thorin was a dwarf of few words after all.

“Excellent! Then I think you’ll enjoy the next dish, I managed to procure us some caviar. Although I don’t think we’ll be able to serve it to all the guests, it is rather expensive-”

“Caviar?” Thorin queried. Why did that sound familiar?

“Yes, Fish eggs!” Bilbo clarified, his smile never breaking as he whirled away to grab the next plate.

Thorin’s stomach lurched uncomfortably and he had to brace himself on the table, his knuckles white as he fought the urge to faint.

Taking deep breaths, he managed to compose himself before Bilbo brought forward the next dish.

And on it continued, the next dish no better than the last. Thorin had to endure plates of roast mutton (memories of the trolls spilling into his mind, not grateful in the slightest that there had been a meat dish), salad (Elf food), stew (days of eating nothing but the stuff springing to mind) and even garlic mushrooms (mushrooms were all they’d managed to find to eat in Mirkwood and they’d left them vomiting well into the night).  

Thorin had to draw the line though when Bilbo presented the next dish, he’d declared could be an accompaniment to the main or cut into croutons for the salad. It was Lembas bread... actual Lembas bread. Despite its high regard in Elvish culture, it had been served to the company during their imprisonment in Mirkwood, enough to keep them alive but lacking all the satisfaction of a good hearty dwarven feast. No, this was too much.

“I-I’m sorry Bilbo... I can’t do this anymore... this is too much...” hanging his head, not daring to look at the shock and disappointment that had no doubt filled the hobbit’s face.

What he didn’t expect to hear was laughter. Startled, he lifted his head to see Bilbo doubled over in laughter with tears streaming down his cheeks. Maybe Oin was right... maybe Bilbo wasn’t well.

Every time Bilbo managed to clear away enough tears to look at Thorin’s stunned expression, he burst into fresh rounds of laughter, his face turning bright red.

“Ghivashel? Are you alright?” Thorin asked concerned.

Wiping away tears, Bilbo finally managed to choke out, “Oh Thorin...” he giggled again, “Thorin... I’m so sorry... I didn’t expect you to actually...” Bilbo’s giggles finally taking over once more.

What? “I don’t understand...” Thorin frowned. What was Bilbo sorry about?

“Oh Thorin... I wasn’t seriously proposing those dishes be served at our wedding. Well... maybe the asparagus but the rest of it can go to Dain’s boar for all I care. It was a joke,” Bilbo admitted, his face flushed from laughter and eyes sparkling in amusement.

“A joke,” Thorin echoed. So all that he’d eaten... oh he was so embarrassed. Reacting in the only way he knew how, he huffed and crossed his arms, frowning in disapproval.

“Yes a joke you bean,” Bilbo said, coming up behind Thorin to rest his chin on the dwarf’s shoulder and wrap his arms round the dwarf’s chest, pressing a kiss to his ear before adding, “I’m quite proud of you if I’m honest. I didn’t think you’d be able to maintain such composure for so long. But you do need to tell me when you don’t like something, this day if for both of us after all.”

Thorin hummed, wanting to change the subject away from his humiliation. “So what are we having at the wedding feast?”

“Well, I spoke to Bombur and the chefs and we’ve come to the agreement that the feast will have an assortment of roasts including roasted Pork, Beef and Chicken to appease you carnivores.  And of course they’ll be accompaniments of various vegetables, roasted and boiled, to go with them, even if you don’t eat them, I can assure you that myself and any hobbits that come will. There’s more but that’s the general gist of it. Happy?” Bilbo smirked.

Thorin sighed in relief, slumping in his chair and turning his head to kiss Bilbo’s nose, “Much better,” he sighed. He was grateful Bilbo had sorted it- his day had been long enough as it is.

“Good, now that’s sorted you can try the cakes I’ve been baking for our wedding cake,” Bilbo said, moving off Thorin to move back to the counter.

“Wedding cake?” Thorin asked confused.

“Yes. You know the cake couples have at weddings?” Bilbo replied exasperatedly.

Thorin just shook his head, “Dwarves don’t have cake at weddings.”

“Well... that’s preposterous! All hobbit weddings have cake. I know this is a dwarven wedding but I really must insist on this one.”

“As you wish,” Thorin said, giving out a small smile as Bilbo pulled out a platter with various small cakes on top of it.

Several he recognised, sponge, chocolate and orange... but he couldn’t place the last one. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the last cake.

“That’s carrot cake,” Bilbo replied jollily, cutting a slice off and popping it into his mouth, groaning at the taste. “I was thinking of having this along with a sponge cake and a chocolate one.”

Carrot cake... now surely Bilbo had to be having him on, carrots were vegetables, you didn’t put them in cake. “Har har Bilbo, the joke's run its course,” Thorin snorted, pleased with himself at having caught the joke this time.

Bilbo frowned at him, “No... This isn’t a joke Thorin.”

“You got me once Bilbo but you’re not getting me again. As if you put carrots in cake... do you take me for a dwarfling?” Thorin smirked.

Bilbo jaw dropped open, “No no, I’m being serious Thorin. This cake is a Shire favourite!” Bilbo insisted.

Thorin froze, “So... you mean... you put actual, real carrot in actual cake?” he spluttered, his cheeks reddening.

“Yes! Honestly Thorin, next you’ll tell me you’ve never heard of fruitcake!” Thorin just stared back at him dumbfounded, fruit in cake? “Oh Yavanna save me from dwarven ignorance! Look, you pick two cakes and we’ll have a small carrot cake for the hobbits,” Bilbo exclaimed, rubbing his temples.

He needed to do something other than stare at Bilbo before the poor hobbit had an aneurism. Looking down at the platter before him, he pointed to the sponge and chocolate cake, remembering that had been Bilbo’s idea. He liked those cakes the most though so no loss there.

“Fine... that’s the food and cake sorted... now I’m having a bath to ward off this headache,” Bilbo moaned, walking out of the room.

Thorin stared around the room at all the plates and dishes he’d been picking at, unsure what to do with himself.

And then Bilbo’s head popped back round the corner, “Feel free to join me before the next solstice!” he smirked cheekily before disappearing.

That made Thorin jump to his feet and dash off after the hobbit, the day may not have been so fruitless after all!

Chapter Text

“Thorin we are not having our first dance to ‘Far over the Misty Mountains cold’!”

“Why not?” Thorin asked petulantly, he’d looked so pleased with himself when he’d first suggested the idea until Bilbo shot it down dead.

“Because it’s depressing. Honestly, as if I want to dance with you and think about spending the rest of our lives together with the words- ‘The dwarves they heard the tramp of doom. They fled their hall to dying fall’ playing in the background!” Bilbo said exasperatedly, having learnt the lyrics from the countless times he’d asked Thorin to sing for him.

“You always like it when I sing it,” Thorin pointed out, sullenly playing with his bacon.

“Yes I do,” Bilbo said, softening slightly, but Thorin was being ridiculous and Bilbo was not going to roll over on this one, “But that’s because you have a lovely deep voice and you can’t possibly sing it since you’re dancing with me.”

“Fine,” Thorin conceded, “What do you suggest?” his eyebrows rising expectantly.

“I don’t know,” Bilbo admitted, “I’ve asked Balin to gather Erebor’s bards and they should be arriving in the throne room soon and then we’ll see what music they’ve come up with.”

Bilbo didn’t know anything about dwarvish music apart from what the company had sung on their quest and he didn’t particularly want to be reminded about what he hated or that ‘The Worm of Dread is slain and dead’. No, those songs did not make for good dancing music at all.

The first dwarf that entered the throne room was a stout dwarf who looked incredibly fierce, sporting many scars from countless battles. He didn’t really look like a bard at all- he looked much more like a warrior. Where in Eru’s name had Balin found this one?

But Balin looked perfectly proud of his choice as he announced, “Gilfur the Mighty, a bard from the Iron Hills,” before stepping back to allow the bard to step forward.

Feeling somewhat nervous, Bilbo shot a glance at Thorin on his much larger throne next to him, the dwarf looked as stoic as ever, apparently it was completely normal for dwarven bards to look as though they’ve been chewed up by a Warg and spat out again. He even made Dwalin look like a young faunt lass in comparison.

The dwarf bowed low to them both. “Hail King Thorin and Consort Bilbo! May I convey my congratulations on your engagement and my gratitude in having the opportunity to sing for you on your wedding day. I have sung for the great Lord Dain in many battles and I come highly recommended!” Gilfur growled, puffing out his chest. Well at least he was polite...

Bilbo nodded in thanks and took the lead when Thorin remained silent, “Thank you Gilfur the err Mighty, you may begin.”

Gilfur looked to Thorin for final confirmation that he could continue and the King gave a casual wave of his hand. Thorin was probably still sulking from this morning, Bilbo thought to himself before sitting up on his seat and giving the terrifying dwarf his full attention.

The bard stood a little straighter, putting his arms behind his back before opening his mouth and singing a song which made Bilbo slump in his seat as he desperately resisted the urge to hide his face in his hands.

“Oh the battle was short and sweet,

Little chance did they stand against my mighty sword,

As I chopped them down into chunks of meat,

So easy it twas that I grew bored!”

Not only was it a lyrical mess that sounded like a faunt had wrote it, but it was entirely inappropriate for their wedding... but he could see why Dain liked him, it was completely barbaric!

Before Gilfur could proceed to tell him just how many Orcs he’d decapitated in his time Bilbo clapped his hands to silence the dwarf. “Err thank you Gilfur, we’ll get back to you...” Bilbo said uneasily, throwing a glance at Thorin who actually had a small smile playing on his lips. He couldn’t have seriously just enjoyed that nonsense? But as he looked around at the nobles dotted around the hall and the guards, they were all smiling at Gilfur in appreciation. This wasn’t going to go well...

Once Gilfur had bowed and exited the throne room, Thorin bent his head closer to Bilbo’s, saying in a low tone so that no-one else could hear, “That was pleasant, I’d put him straight on the short-list. What do you think?” Thorin asked him in all seriousness.

Bilbo gaped, what were these dwarves on? “You seriously want to dance with me to music about decapitation?”

Thorin frowned at Bilbo’s expression, “Ballads about battle are the most noble and beautiful of our songs. They show just how mighty our race is and I believe Gilfur was trying to make you proud to have been adopted into our culture.”

“Of course I’m proud to be part of your culture but that’s not because of your prowess in battle, Thorin! It’s because of your strong family values both within and out of your blood, especially with your children,” Bilbo argued.

“Ah... then you may not like the rest of the bards Balin has rounded up...” Thorin said, looking slightly put-out.

“Don’t tell me they’re all like that?” Bilbo cried, his heart sinking, this was supposed to be romantic... but he supposed that dwarves have different ideas on what is considered to be romantic.

And indeed they were all like that, Rossi the Blood-thirsty sang of her quest to destroy the race of Goblins, Kard the Boar-rider (more like boar-brained, Bilbo had thought to himself) sang of all the boars who had lived and died in his service- a song which had reduced many nobles to tears but had just left Bilbo feeling somewhat nauseated. And Wedig the Warg-killer came striding in wearing nothing but the pelts of Wargs which barely covered his modesty before singing of his great hunt of the Wargs of the South, whom he’d hunted for many days and nights before finally stamping out their pack.

And some songs were entirely in Khuzdul, which Bilbo could make neither head nor tail off. But judging by the hand gestures and cries of the nobles, several individuals had indeed been disembowelled and garrotted in their tales.

By the end of the first lot of bards, Bilbo’s face had turned from sheet-white to a pale green colour after he’d had one too many images of decapitations and disembowelment thrust into his mind. Thorin on the other hand looked to be having a whale of a time, he tapped along to each song and looked to Bilbo after every song, expecting the hobbit to be sharing in his joy. What he didn’t expect to find was a hobbit who was slipping further and further down his seat, to the point where he would likely fall off his throne if he should carry on.

Oh this was a disaster, Bilbo thought to himself. There was one bard left... surely this couldn’t get any worse?

The next dwarf came striding in, he was skinny compared to his brethren and his beard was pulled neatly into a long, dark braid which nearly covered his sharp cheekbones.

Balin stepped forward to introduce him, “Liddo the Wise,” he announced. The wise? Well that sounded promising, Bilbo sat further up on his throne- perhaps this could yet be salvaged.

Liddo bowed low to them both and Thorin indicated once more for him to continue. What happened next would stay with Bilbo to his very grave and leave a sharp indentation on whatever respectability he thought he had left.

Clearing his throat, Liddo began:

“Bilbo,

Bilbo Baggins,

He’s only three feet tall,

Bilbo,

Bilbo Baggins,

The bravest little hobbit of them all!”

Yes... apparently it could get worse...

Bilbo blushed furiously, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to process what was actually happening. They had made a song... about him! As Liddo began to recount his deeds in saving the company from Thranduil’s halls, Bilbo looked to Thorin who was watching the bard with a huge grin spreading across his face and he looked at Bilbo then, pride filling his eyes.

Looking around the hall, the other dwarves were all nodding along and smiling as Liddo sang, “That brave little hobbit whom we all admire!”

Bilbo pinched himself, surely this was some bizarre dream induced by standing too close to Radagast when he was smoking... but when he felt the sharp pain of his pinch and the room stayed around him, he realised that yes, this was actually happening.

And as Liddo finished the song, his face flushed from singing, the dwarves in the hall erupted in cheers whilst Bilbo sat frozen and staring.

Liddo bowed profusely, delighted by his reception, “Thank you, I believe it is called ‘The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins’ in honour of the brave deeds our Royal Consort carried out on the Quest for Erebor!”

Bilbo snapped himself out of his daze then, “Wait... you didn’t write the song?” he asked, confused.

Liddo shook his head, “I’m afraid I did not have the honour. No, young Master Bofur here wrote that masterpiece, he merely passed it along for me to sing.”

Bofur... oh that dwarf was so dead. As for his hat... that would be sent to the fires of Mount Doom as soon as Bilbo got his hands on it. No, Bofur would not be seeing that hat again.

Turning to Thorin, he hissed, “Did you know about this?”

Thorin’s smile faltered, “Err... I may have heard Fili and Kili singing it the other day...” he answered bashfully.

Bilbo clenched his jaw, this was ridiculous... he was no closer to finding a song for their wedding day and now he was going to have this bizarre song about him circulating Erebor.

Composing himself, he managed a weak smile before turning back to Liddo, “Thank you Liddo... you are dismissed,” he said as politely as he was able. Liddo bowed lowly before exiting the throne room.

Thorin clapped his hands and stood, the rest of the dwarves in the room stood with him and jumped to attention. “Court dismissed,” he commanded, settling back on his throne.

The nobles and guards filed out, some of them having the audacity to sing ‘Well, he fought with the Goblins, He battled a troll’ under their breath as they left, the tune having stuck in their minds. Bilbo did have to admit... the tune was rather catchy... but completely inappropriate for their wedding. Nope, that would not do. These songs could have been sung by Gollum, they were about as romantic as the foul creature had been.

When Thorin and Bilbo were finally left alone, Bilbo slumped forward and put his head in his hands. “Oh Yavanna, that was awful,” he groaned.

Thorin chuckled next to him, “You did ask Balin to gather the bards of Erebor,” he pointed out.

“I know! But I expected them to put together something a little more...”

“Romantic?” Thorin suggested, smirking.

“Exactly! I think I’d rather dance to ‘Far over the Misty Mountains Cold’ than songs about decapitation and incineration. I can see why Bofur enjoys singing so much if that’s the crowd he gets to hang around with.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin called softly.

“What?” Bilbo asked, fed up with the day’s events, but he looked up to see what Thorin could possibly want.

With a pat on his knee he said, “Come here,” with a smile.

Bilbo rolled his eyes, “Thorin, I’m not sitting on your knee like a dwarfling, what if someone walks in?”

“They won’t,” Thorin said, “Humour me.” He patted his knee once more.

Huffing, Bilbo got up and clambered up onto Thorin’s knee, sitting sideways with his arms crossed. Thorin snaked his arms around him and pulled him close so that his head was on his shoulder.

“If you wanted something romantic then you should have said, Ghivashel. It is not the bards you needed but the orchestra, I should know, I used to play the harp with them,” Thorin placated.

Well he supposed the music did not have to be lyrical, a great deal of Shire music was without lyrics after all.

And then Thorin began to hum, and Bilbo’s heart swelled to heart it, finally relaxing against the dwarf’s chest which rumbled gently beneath his hands. It was incredibly sweet, not darkened in the slightest by Thorin’s usual deep voice.

“Better?” Thorin asked once he’d finished.

“Much better,” Bilbo answered, kissing the dwarf on his bearded cheek. He couldn’t wait to hear the full orchestral version.

Perhaps, if Thorin kept him in a good mood, Bofur’s hat may have been saved from his wrath... although he could not guarantee the toy-maker’s safety.

Chapter Text

“Otho! Grab your pitchfork, there’s a vulture on the mailbox,” Lobelia screeched whilst glaring out the window at the offending bird.

A sleepy Otho came wondering through their smial to see what could possibly be bothering his wife now. It was way too early in the morning to be dealing with disgusting wildlife.

“What is it dearest?” Otho mumbled, coming to stand by his wife’s side to stare out of the window with her.

Lobelia gripped his arm tightly and urgently whispered, as though the bird could hear her, “It’s looking at me Otho, do something! Look at its eyes, it’s evil.”

“Err that’s a Raven,” Otho said cautiously, it would not do to bring Lobelia’s wrath down on him but that was indeed a Raven sat on their mailbox. A bloody large one, but it was a Raven all the same and not a vulture.

“A Raven? Are you sure?” Lobelia asked him, a frown pulling at her mouth.

“Quite positive,” Otho assured her.

“Oh... well get rid of it. It’s going to poop all over my Roses,” Lobelia told him before pulling him towards the door and thrusting his pitchfork into his hand.

With little choice, Otho pulled open the door and exited the smial, gulping as the large bird turned its beady eyes on him.

Tentatively, Otho raised his pitchfork and pointed it at the bird who looked at it unimpressed by the threat. “Shoo,” he said, shoving the pitchfork in the bird’s direction.

The Raven ruffled his feathers indignantly and squawked loudly when Otho continued to advance. Behind the hobbit, Lobelia was hiding behind her flowery curtains.

“Get out of here,” Otho tried to say impressively but his voice may have wavered a little- not that he’d ever admit he was intimated by a bird.

The Raven continued to glare at him, staying on his perch. But then, to Otho’s surprise, the Raven stuck its leg out and there, tied around its leg was a letter. Who, in all of Yavanna’s fields, was writing to them by carrier-Raven? Otho didn’t even know anyone used Ravens to carry letters; no hobbit would be seen using such filthy birds to carry their mail.

Still keeping an eye on the bird, should it decide to suddenly fly at him, Otho lowered his pitchfork and inched closer to the Raven who looked slightly less angry now that he didn’t have three spikes aimed at him. Slowly, he reached out a shaking hand towards the Raven who cawed and caused him to jump back and retract his hand.

To his amazement, the Raven seemed to snicker at his reaction which only caused Otho to grow even more irritated and take the letter from the Raven’s leg before it could recover from its laughter.

Once Otho had the letter, he backed away from the bird and made his way back into his smial where he was greeted with the furious face of Lobelia. He considered going back outside with the Raven...

“Why is it still here?” she hissed whilst Otho shut the door.

He turned to face her, a vein was bulging behind the curls on Lobelia’s forehead, he noted. “I-I don’t know... it was carrying this,” he said, presenting his wife with the letter which she just stared at disgustedly, not moving to take it.

“I’m not touching it, Eru knows what pests that beast is carrying,” Lobelia said indignantly, her nose turning up at the letter and she crossed her arms across her chest. Why did he marry her again...

Sighing, Otho turned the letter around in his hand and noticed with surprise that the letter was sealed with a blue wax seal- he didn’t recognise the coat of arms, it appeared to be seven stars surrounding a hammer and an Axe. Well there was only one way of finding out who had sent it... and with that thought, Otho broke the seal and opened out the letter which was filled with swirly writing that he had to squint at to read.

Clearing his throat, Otho read, “Greetings Otho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. I am pleased to inform you that a relative of yours, Mr Bilbo Baggins is to be married to Thorin II Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain, slayer of the white Orc and heir to the line of Durin. If you wish to attend the wedding, please return the slip below with Roäc son of Carc and meet the caravan of dwarves heading to Erebor in Bree in a week’s time and you should arrive in time for the wedding. May your axe never blunt and your beard never wither. Regards, Balin son of Fundin, Royal Advisor.”

Silence greeted his words and Otho looked up to see the flabber-gasted face of Lobelia staring back at him. “What?” she gasped.

Confused, Otho began to read again, “Greetings Otho and Lob-”

“No, no! I got that... our Bilbo, who ran off with a bunch of dwarves and is presumed to be dead, is marrying a dwarven King?” Lobelia spat.

Looking down the letter again, he replied, “Err that’s what it says...”

“A dwarf... Well, we shouldn’t be surprised with Belladonna as his mother, she never was very respectable...” she trailed off, her eyes becoming deep in thought.

“Are we going?” Otho asked, thinking of the Raven still perched on their mailbox who must have been this Roäc fellow.

Lobelia trained her eyes on him, now full of mischief and cunning- he could see a plan forming in her mind. “Of course we’re going. Our Bilbo is marrying a King, and a dwarven King at that and whilst I don’t care for dwarves I do need some new jewellery... plus this will be a perfect opportunity to show Bilbo who his real family is and before you know it, we’ll be moving into Bag-End,” she said excitedly, a grin forming of her face.

Of course... how silly of him to miss that. “I guess we’ll just sign this slip here...” he said, scanning the bottom of the letter.

Lobelia snatched it from him, “Oh give that here, I’ll do it,” she grumbled, moving to her writing desk where she scribbled their assent on the bottom and handed it back to him. “Now go and give that to the thing outside and I’ll start packing,” she told him before heading off, deep into the smial.

Sighing, Otho made his way outside where the Raven looked up from his pruning to watch him approach. Seeing Otho carrying the letter, the Raven stuck his leg out and allowed Otho to re-tie the letter to him. When he was finished, the bird stared at him for a moment before nipping at his hand sharply and flying away before he could even finish cursing the bird. This was why he didn’t like nature...

“Oh you got an invitation too?” a high voice asked him.

Looking up from the red welt forming on his hand, he saw Primula walking towards him. Otho scowled at her, “If you’re talking about the wedding, then yes,” he said gruffly.

Despite his dark expression, Primula continued to beam at him, “Isn’t it wonderful? Oh, Bilbo would make his parents proud. We can’t wait to see him-”

“You’re going too?” he asked. Lobelia wouldn’t be happy about this.

“Of course,” Primula replied, “Hamfast also got an invite but his wife’s just got pregnant so they can’t make the journey sadly. I’ll see you in Bree then?”

“Yes... see you in Bree,” Otho said.

This was going to make their plans regarding Bag-End a little more problematic...

“Da! Da! A Raven’s come from Erebor! We’re invited to a royal wedding!” Bain cried as he ran into his father’s study with a large Raven sat on his shoulder. Bard looked up from a document he was reading to take the letter his son was waving in front of him.

“Did you open my mail?” Bard asked, straightening the letter so that he could read it.

Bain looked a little sheepish as he replied, “Maybe... but read it quick so we can reply to say we’re going!” he said excitedly.

Bard raised his eyebrow at his son, but he couldn’t help but feel amused by his son’s excitement, he’d have thought his son would think wedding too boring an affair. “Who says we’re going at all?”

His son looked slightly dejected as he stroked the Raven on his shoulder, “Aw c’mon Da! Everyone will be there and I want to see Fili and Kili again!” His children had become fast friends with the princes during his diplomatic visits to the Mountain when he’d taken them along.

Bard snorted, “I’m not sure they’re a good influence...” He didn’t know what they got up to with the princes, but he could see the guilt and mischievous glints in their eyes a mile away when they’d returned to him after the meetings.

“I promise we’ll behave, please Da!” Bain begged, bouncing on his feet slightly.

Bard sighed and held up a finger, “If you behave... you may come,” he conceded. As King of Dale, he was expected to attend these sorts of events and even though he wasn’t particularly fond of the dwarves, Bilbo was always pleasant company.

The room was filled with the excited cheers of Bain and his two other children who had been listening outside. This was certainly not going to be a dull wedding...

Thranduil was sat in his throne room when one of his guards walked in, bowing lowly before approaching the King. The Elven King paused in stroking his Elk’s head to turn his attention on his guard. His Elk nudged his hand slightly, not pleased that the petting had stopped but Thranduil ignored him, he was still miffed that the Elk had decided to chew on his Throne that morning.

“A letter from Erebor, your Grace,” the guard said, handing the King the letter. Oh what did those bearded trolls want now?

Taking the letter, he nodded in thanks to the guard who bowed his way out of the throne room, leaving the King in private to open the letter. Sighing, he opened it and read whatever message the dwarves had decided to bother him with.

His eyes widened the further he read, so the Halfling had actually gotten through the courtship with the buffoon of a King. And they wanted him there at their wedding! Thranduil smirked to himself when he realised this must have been Bilbo’s doing, he could just see Thorin’s startled expression when Bilbo had dropped that one out. There was no way the dwarves would willingly invite him to the wedding of their King. He had to hand to Bilbo, he knew how to manage Thorin that was for sure. Maybe Erebor wouldn’t become a complete mess...

“Father?”

Looking up from the letter, Thranduil saw that Legolas had entered the room and was staring expectantly at the letter in his ringed hand.

“An invitation from Erebor,” he answered, scratching his Elk behind his antlers, causing him to close his eyes in contentment.

“An invitation?” Legolas prompted.

“Yes, apparently that hobbit, Bilbo, has agreed to marry the King. And we’re invited to the farce,” Thranduil said disinterestedly. Dwarven weddings were messy, tiresome affairs- not something he cared to go to. He still remembered Thror’s wedding- it had taken him weeks to get the stink of Ale from his hair and even longer to remove the fish scales that had stuck into his robes. Apparently it was completely customary to wear the food as well as eat it, if you could have called it that. Dwarvish food lacked all refinement, especially when it was being used in a food-fight. He shuddered at the memory- No, that was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

“I’m happy for them, seems like the hobbit has taken to Erebor. I guess we should get gifts and our dress robes sorted-” Legolas started.

“Gifts?” Thranduil snorted. As if he wanted to give anything to the infernal dwarves... except maybe a razor for those disgusting beards.

“... Yes, we are going I presume?” Legolas asked, frowning.

Thranduil sighed, “There are more enjoyable activities I can think of attending...” like grooming his Elk... or having his nails done again, neither of them had fully recovered from the battle.

Legolas threw him a disapproving look, “You’re the King of Mirkwood you have to go!”

“Exactly, I’m the King! I can do whatever I want!” Thranduil retorted.

“You of all people should know that’s not true. To strengthen the new alliance you’re expected to be there. And if it makes you feel any better, I doubt Thorin wants to you there either, or even any of the dwarves for that matter. You still owe it to Bilbo for his assistance in the war,” Legolas pointed out.

He did make a good point... the Halfling was enjoyable company even if the dwarves were downright annoying. And it would amuse him greatly to see the dwarf King grit his teeth and be forced to smile at him at his own wedding. Perhaps this wedding would not be a completely dull and boring affair. But he would certainly not be wearing his best silk robes this time, not after his last ones were ruined.

Deep in thought, he looked down at his pet who blinked his large brown eyes at him. It would do the Elk good to get some exercise... and he can munch on the dwarves tablecloths for a change.

Reluctantly, Thranduil nodded, “I suppose we will have to endure the affair,” he grumbled.

Oh he couldn’t wait to see Thorin’s face when he turned up.

A moth flew through the air, landing on a wizened old hand who lifted the creature to his ear so that he could listen to whatever he had to tell him.

Gandalf smiled when he heard the news the little Moth told him- a wedding in Erebor and between Bilbo and Thorin! Well he certainly couldn’t miss that, after watching all that pining on the quest, he’d had a front seat in watching the relationship develop. He still felt positively warm and fuzzy every time he thought back to that time Thorin had hugged Bilbo on the carrock. It had been the first time he’d seen the dwarf actually smile and it had been at Bilbo! It had been obvious from that moment onwards that they were smitten. 

Taking one last look at the surrounding lands of Rohan, he walked into the throne room of King Fengel.

“Mister Gandalf, can you show me how you make those sparkly butterflies again?” a little voice called by Gandalf’s feet.

Looking down, the wizard smiled at the toddler, “I’m sorry young master Théoden, I’m afraid I’ll have to show you some other time. Now run along with your maid,” Gandalf told him kindly, watching as the young prince waddled his way back to the maid waiting in the wings.

Having seen to the prince, Gandalf walked to the throne where King Fengel, Théodan’s grandfather, was watching him cautiously.

“My apologies, King Fengel, but an urgent matter has come to my attention and I must depart immediately,” Gandalf told the King regretfully.

“You’re leaving? But my son is threatening to move to Gondor unless this matter of state is settled,” Fengel grumbled, tensing on his throne.

“And I deeply regret having to leave in such dark times but I’m afraid you will have to manage without me,” the wizard replied, leaving no room for argument as he swept out of the hall. He didn’t tell Fengel that Thengel was already making preparations for leaving, and he can’t say he blamed him after Fengel’s increased greed for food and gold.

No, there was no more for him to do here. He had some fireworks to make and a certain happy couple to congratulate.

Chapter Text

“Bilbo?” Thorin said nervously over breakfast in their chambers.

Bilbo looked up from his scrambled egg and frowned at Thorin’s guilty expression. Oh Yavanna, what had he done now? The last time Thorin had looked so nervous, it had been because he’d mistaken Bilbo’s patchwork robe as a towel. It was only after the robe was covered with soot and dust from visiting the mines and was completely sodden through from Thorin’s bath, that Thorin realised that his ‘towel’ had sleeves. So when Thorin looked so nervous so early in the morning, Bilbo can only begin to imagine what he’s done... maybe he’d mistaken one of his books for kindling... or used Bilbo’s toothbrush to brush his beard again (apparently Thorin had assumed Bilbo had bought him a small brush with which to comb his short beard- Bilbo was not amused when he’d gone to brush his teeth and had found black and silver hairs in the bristles).

Trying to stop his mind from jumping to conclusions, Bilbo replied, “Yes, Thorin?”

Thorin gulped and stared down at his hands, “I-I... I have a confession to make...” unable to go any further than that.

Bilbo’s blood ran cold, this must be pretty serious. And so he decided to put his knife and fork down, just in case he accidently stabbed himself in the hand after this ‘revelation’. “Go on,” he prompted.

Thorin took a deep breath and looked up into Bilbo’s eyes before blurting out, “I can’t dance.”

Bilbo was about to say, ‘That’s okay Thorin, we’ll just buy another one, there’s really nothing to forgive’, but the words died in his throat as he stared flabbergasted at Thorin’s expression. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to find the words to respond to Thorin’s big ‘confession’. That’s what he was so nervous about?

Thorin grimaced as he mistook Bilbo’s dumbfounded expression for disappointment, “I-I know I’ve let you down... we would normally lead the dance as both the married and the royal couple, but I just can’t find a way around it. Maybe Dís or Fili could lead instead-”

“Wait wait wait, you’re telling me that you can’t dance so we won’t be dancing at our wedding at all?” Bilbo asked for clarification.

Thorin winced, “I’m sorry, but yes... I can’t dance with you, or with anyone for that matter.” Bilbo stared at him for a moment. Thorin- I’m so majestic I can do everything with my limbs tied- was actually admitting he couldn’t do something. Even with Bilbo’s best efforts to convince him otherwise, Thorin still believed himself to be an excellent diplomat. But regardless of Thorin’s issues with denial, there was no way Bilbo was missing out on having the first dance with his husband.

Bilbo snorted when he realised how silly Thorin really was being, “You’re being daft Thorin, your dancing surely can’t be that bad.”

Thorin’s face continued to look pale and stricken, “No, you don’t understand... I really can’t dance. My grandfather banned me from all balls and dances because of my affliction,” he insisted.

“Your affliction? Thorin, you may have an issue with having two left feet but that hardly puts you on par with having gold-sickness.” Bilbo could have kicked himself from bringing that up, but to prevent Thorin from simply dying in front of him from guilt, Bilbo added, “Look, we’ve got plenty of time before the wedding, we can get a few lessons in before then and we’ll be fine.”

Thorin shook his head, “It’s hopeless,” he said dejectedly, bowing his head.

Rolling his eyes at how over-dramatic Thorin was being, Bilbo reached out and put his hands over Thorin’s much larger ones. “Then it’s a good thing I can dance,” Bilbo said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll speak to Balin and we’ll get this sorted out, alright?”

Thorin was still for a moment and then he nodded in defeat, moving his hands to that he could clasp Bilbo’s.

But Bilbo was not to be dissuaded. Clearly, Thorin had just had a few bad dancing experiences, nothing that couldn’t be easily remedied.

“Ouch Thorin, that was my foot!” Bilbo cried out, not for the first time, in pain as he looked down to his very red and sore toes.

Thorin huffed in frustration and dropped his hand from Bilbo’s waist but kept a loose hold of Bilbo’s other hand. “I can’t do this,” Thorin declared gruffly.

“Nonsense... it’s just an issue of my feet being so much bigger than yours, right Balin?” Bilbo said, looking to Balin for support and raising his eyebrows as though daring the dwarf to disagree with him.

Balin, who had long since zoned out, perked up at Blbo’s tone and immediately spotted Bilbo’s intention, “Oh yes, of course your Majesty. Perhaps if you removed your boots until you got used to each others, err, difference in gait.”

Thorin blinked at his advisor, “Remove my boots?” he asked, as though Balin had just asked him to remove the rest of his clothing as well.

This was ridiculous, Bilbo knew Thorin was very attached to his boots but he liked his toes more than how Thorin looked right this minute.

“An excellent idea, Balin. Right, Thorin?” Bilbo crossed his arms and waited patiently whilst Thorin looked between the two of them and seeing that he was outnumbered, bent down to undo the many clasps and ties which tied the heavy things to his feet, muttering something to himself which sounded suspiciously like ‘Am I not the King?’ and ‘I’ll get married to Dain’s boar... pigs can’t dance’.

When Thorin was finally down to his socks, Bilbo said, “Socks as well, or you’ll be slipping on this marble floor like it’s an ice-rink and I don’t want to go down with you.”

Thorin narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, but Bilbo stared back unimpressed- he’d had worse stares off of his gran... and she’d been 105 last time he’d seen her before she’d passed away. With reluctance, Thorin bared his feet and threw his socks onto the nearby couch, wriggling his toes slightly in response to the sudden coolness of the stone beneath his feet.

Bilbo ogled at Thorin’s feet for a moment... they were just so small! Dwarf feet always fascinated Bilbo, their toes were so tiny and pink and delicate; he didn’t know how they coped with the amount of walking they did on them.

“Okay... let’s try again. You’re doing fine, Thorin, just... I don’t know, loosen up a bit. Loosen your shoulders and hands a little and you may feel more comfortable,” Bilbo advised as Thorin’s hands resumed their position.

Nodding at Balin, who resumed his count of “One, two, three”, Bilbo tugged on Thorin’s hands to start the dance again. He was sort-of improving... he was stumbling less at least and he wasn’t holding Bilbo’s hand in a death grip anymore. Another issue was the fact that Thorin’s brow was constantly furrowed in concentration, something which Bilbo hoped would be replaced with something more loving and caring on their wedding day or Thorin was going to look like he was twirling Bilbo off to murder him.

And now came the jump... Thorin’s hand slipped from Bilbo’s hand to his waist and Bilbo moved his hands to grasp Thorin’s broad shoulders- Okay great so far. But then as Thorin lifted Bilbo to spin him around, Thorin’s foot slipped and he lost his grip on Bilbo’s waist, resulting in Bilbo flying across the room and hitting the bookcase.  Bilbo didn’t even hear Thorin shout, “Bilbo!” before he blacked out.

When Bilbo finally came to, he was still lying on the floor and his head was throbbing from where he’d hit it on one of the shelves. He nearly fainted again when he opened his eyes and found his vision filled with the faces of Thorin, Balin, Oin, Fili and Kili. Thorin, Balin and Oin looked concerned and Thorin had the decency to look guilty at least but Fili and Kili looked positively overjoyed.

“Wow Uncle! You must have swung him real hard!” Kili exclaimed.

Fili added, “Yeah! You do realise there is a difference between dancing and wrestling right?”

Thorin was prevented from throttling his nephews when Oin said, “Stand back, stand back. Our hobbit is waking up, give him some space!” which allowed Bilbo to pull himself into a sitting position with Thorin’s hand moving to his back to support him.

“I’m so sorry Bilbo, you told me to loosen up...”

Bilbo groaned, “I said loosen up, not let go of me. Help me up, let’s get this over with.”

Thorin frowned and made no move to pull Bilbo up. Oin, however, began looking through Bilbo’s hair for any sign of cut or bruises. “Are you sure that’s wise, Bilbo? You need to rest, look I’ll carry you back to the bedroom,” Thorin offered, moving to wrap his arms around Bilbo’s back and knees but Bilbo swatted his hands away.

“I’m fine!” Bilbo insisted, “You are going to learn how to dance, even if it kills me,” he huffed, adding sliently, which it probably will at this rate.

“The skin’s not broken, there'll be a bruise but nothing to be worried about,” Oin concluded after thoroughly examining Bilbo’s hair.

“See? I’m fine, now help me up,” Bilbo said hastily, grabbing onto Thorin’s shoulder to pull himself to his feet. He swayed for a moment, his head going incredibly light but he quickly shook himself and stepped back. Now that he was stood, he saw that the whole company had come in. Great, now they had an audience.

But then an idea struck him, “Okay, well if you’re all here, you may as well pair off and join us,” Bilbo said smugly at their shocked expressions. Apparently, they’d come for the show and hadn’t expected to have to join in. Waiting, Bilbo crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘well? what are you waiting for?’

Grumbling, they all began to pair off: Fili with Kili, Oin with Dori, Nori with Gloin, Bofur with Bombur, Bifur with Balin which just left Dwalin with Ori. The shy scribe blushed furiously as he looked about himself for any other partner than the stern warrior in front of him who looked like he’d rather being doing anything, such as beheading Wargs or throwing cabbages at Elves (a game they’d invented during their stay at Rivendell), other than dancing.

Dwalin just huffed and threw Bilbo a look that said- if you weren’t the King’s consort...- before grasping Ori’s hand and waist. Ori squeaked at Dwalin’s sudden move but tentatively put his hand on the taller dwarf’s shoulder. Fili and Kili were giggling at the exchange, humour dancing in their eyes.

Making sure that everyone was paired up, Bilbo moved back into Thorin’s arms and gestured at Balin to resume his count whilst the whole company moved across the floor.

Fili and Kili were the only ones who didn’t take it quite so seriously and were practically throwing each other around the room, jumping and twirling in a fashion which was entirely... unique and really not in time to Balin’s count at all. But Bilbo was so occupied with making sure that Thorin didn’t toss him across the room again that he didn’t really notice. No-one tosses a hobbit.

Dwalin was a surprisingly good dancer, clearly all that training with a sword and an axe had not left his muscles too rigid to lift Ori into the air very elegantly. And that gave Bilbo another idea.

Looking back at Thorin who staring at their feet so intensely, he might just drill through Bilbo’s feet before this was over, Bilbo whispered, “Hey, look at me.” Thorin immediately tensed and raised his head to look at Bilbo, his brow becoming pleated, “Just pretend you’re practicing with your sword.”

“What?” Thorin’s face became confused and their step faltered, forcing Bilbo to forcibly steer Thorin back in the right direction before they collided with Bifur and Balin.

“Just try it,” Bilbo insisted, “Don’t treat this like a dance. Treat it like one of your training drills. I’m just an axe.”

“You’re an axe?” Thorin said sceptically, cocking an eyebrow.

Bilbo winced when Thorin accidently kicked his shin- at least he didn’t have his boots on anymore. “Yes,” he said impatiently, “One that will quickly become buried in that thick skull of yours unless you work with me on this,” he added, the spot where he’d hit his head throbbed painfully.

“Fine,” Thorin huffed and Bilbo watched as his eyes grew a little distant, clearly putting himself in his warrior mind-set. Bilbo just hoped that didn’t mean Thorin was going to now grab Bilbo’s legs and swing him round like Orcrist.

But, to both their amazement, it worked! Thorin’s feet were now placed with greater care and assurance, stepping and side-stepping in perfect time. Bilbo couldn’t believe it had actually worked. Thorin’s face was still an issue, although he no longer looked as though he was about to go on a murderous rampage, his eyes were now slightly vacant which could be mistaken for Thorin being misty-eyed if he was actually looking at Bilbo, but his eyes were staring off above Bilbo’s head.

However, there was something Bilbo could do about that and he stood on his tip-toes to capture Thorin’s lips but he pulled back before Thorin had so much as a chance to splutter. Thorin immediately snapped out of his daze and met Bilbo’s eyes, their step faltering again, but as Thorin moved forward to chase Bilbo’s lips, Bilbo pulled away and led Thorin across the dance floor. The dwarf persistently chased his lips and Bilbo let him take a few before pulling away again and giggling as Thorin settled for kissing any part of Bilbo’s face he could reach- his nose, his chin, his eyelids.

Strangely enough, the new arrangement worked and Thorin relaxed enough for Bilbo to lead him across the floor, even if it now worked like he was leading a donkey, just with kisses instead of carrots.

The company around them gradually came to a stop and Balin eventually stopped counting when he realised no-one was listening to him anyway.

Fili and Kili kept dancing though, and had long since decided to take their dancing to the dining table at the far end of the room. And that, if nothing else, snapped Bilbo out of his reverie when Thorin twirled him round and his eyes fell on the two young dwarves dancing and kicking their legs out on the table. Dwalin, Gloin, Nori and Ori were watching them with amusement, clapping their hands in time with their steps.

But Bilbo immediately pulled out of Thorin arms to start down the room towards the scene, “Stop!” he yelled, “We have to eat at that table!”

Fili and Kili paused to watch a very angry hobbit approaching them. They exchanged a glance before quickly deciding to get off the table and grab Bilbo between them.

“Hey! What are you- put me down!” Bilbo cried out as the brothers hefted him onto the table with them. Bilbo could only splutter as the pair grasped his hands and started spinning him around on the table in some form of bizarre dance.

Bilbo resisted at first, dancing in the exact place where one eats is incredibly disgusting to a hobbit, but as the company gathered around the table to laugh and clap along, he could not help but join in their merriment.

And so that was how two nobles found them sometime later, with the King’s consort and his nephews having a dance-off whilst said King and his companions laughed until they had tears streaming down their faces and their bellies ached.

Bilbo had long since forgotten about his sore head and toes, this was far more enjoyable but he did intend to continue that dance with Thorin, he’d been too mean in the kisses he’d withheld after all.

Chapter Text

Dain grinned when he read the letter the Raven had given to him not moments before. So his cousin had finally settled down and finished courting that hobbit of his. Oh he loved weddings, the food, the ale... the food and everything about it was fun and exciting with plenty of opportunities to annoy those infernal Elves in the name of a truly joyous occasion.

Without hesitation, he called out, “Rekhor!”

Immediately, the door to his chambers opened and in stepped his main servant, “Yes, my Lord?”

“Get The Chopper ready and muster my guard and family, we march to Erebor!” He had to be there in plenty of time for the wedding of course, he would not miss the Gift Giving ceremony after all. And he knew just the perfect gift to give his dear cousin and his intended.

After the company had finally dried their tears of laughter and finished singing a few verses of ‘The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins’, the nobles had finally managed to get a word in that the Ravens had returned bearing news of their guests. All the guests, save for Hamfast and his wife, had accepted the invitations and would be arriving in time for the wedding.

Bilbo was still surprised and somewhat annoyed that Lobelia and Otho would be attending when the royal tailor arrived in the Royal Chambers a few days later. He’d never actually expected they’d come all the way from the Shire to Erebor when they considered travelled any farther than Bree as being entirely unnecessary and quite scandalous. Although, Bilbo suspected they had never travelled any further than Bree was more down to the fact they still believed all the old tales they’d tell each other as children of ‘big-folk’ eating young faunts and dwarves popping up out of the ground and taking unsuspecting hobbits down into their dark caves. Bilbo wouldn’t be surprised if Lobelia believed the last one in regards to how Bilbo had somehow managed to become Dwarven Royalty.

Oh he wished he could have seen Lobelia’s face when she read that Bilbo was marrying a Dwarven King. He hoped she fainted... and landed in the manure she uses on her roses. Either way, whilst Bilbo didn’t want the company terrorising the Elves, he wouldn’t complain if Lobelia or Otho got lost at some point or if Dwalin decided to show them the training halls. Even Bilbo was not overly keen on watching a group of half-naked dwarves wrestling each other like feral animals. And that was not even mentioning the smell of sweaty dwarven soldiers training hard with axes and maces. No, Lobelia with her sickly perfumes and finery would not appreciate the sight in the slightest.

Bilbo was snapped out his brooding when he and Thorin had to greet the tailor- Prion, who had taken their measurements to design and make several different outfits for their wedding day. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to this- Dwarven attire did not exactly suit him in his opinion. Thorin had tried to force him into several tunics and surcoats over the past few months, but Bilbo was having none of it. In defiance, he’d travelled to Dale to have some simple shirts and breaches made. Thorin had pouted so hard, Bilbo thought it’d poke his eye out.

“I trust these items will suit your majesties handsomely,” Prion said as he handed over two separate bundles of clothing to Bilbo and Thorin.

“Thank you, Master Prion. I’m sure you’ve done a wonderful job,” Bilbo replied, he had no doubt the tailoring would be beautiful but he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive on what Thorin had commissioned for him. ‘Traditional Dwarven Wedding Attire’, he’d call it. Bilbo hoped that wasn’t code for, what we used to wear in the first age when they were still figuring out the difference between diamonds and copper.

Prion nodded his head in thanks, “Your grace. I have arranged the packages so that the clothing is in order of wear but I can assist in dressing if you so wished?”

“Err... I think we’ll be okay. Won’t we, Thorin?” Bilbo asked his fiancé who was smiling at him with slight amusement. Oh he knew just how much Bilbo had been dreading this.

“I believe we’ll manage,” Thorin smirked, “You first, I’ll wait here and you can come out when you’ve got the first one on.” Of course, he was also going to have to parade about in these first to allow them to make a joint decision and for the tailor to make any adjustments.

Bilbo shot him a glare before he hurried off to their bedroom and shut the door behind him, struggling with the sheer number of packages he was balancing in his arms.

Taking a deep breath, he opened up the first package and stared down at the pile of clothing. He couldn’t see what was beneath the first item, but the first item was a simple white shirt which was reassuring. Nothing insane so far...

Very aware of the pair waiting next door, he quickly undressed so that he could get this over with. Standing in his small clothes, he pulled on the first white shirt and the leggings which were placed under it. Bilbo frowned when he saw the next item was a pair of breeches. Breeches and leggings? That didn’t seem right... but he pulled them on all the same, dwarves did seem to appreciate their layers.

Next, came a long shirt which fell just short his knees. It reminded Bilbo of his night-shirt except the fabric was thick and scratchy on his arms. Oh Yavanna, that was going to drive him insane. He already wanted to scratch his skin with the tingles that the shirt was sending across his arms. It felt like he’d fallen in an ants nest and then fallen again in a pile of Ori’s knitting wool. Biting his lip to resist tearing the infernal item from him, Bilbo slipped on the tunic and then finally the red surcoat which bore Thorin’s crest.

Trying not to look down at himself, he looked in the mirror and a stranger stared back at him. He looked ridiculous... he was wearing so many layers, it made him look several stones heavier which did nothing for his already low self-esteem as regards his figure. How was he supposed to stand next to the majestic Thorin Oakenshield when he was barely more recognisable than a ball of clothing with two arms and legs sticking out awkwardly due to the number of layers?

If Bilbo had anything to say about it, and he would be damned if he didn’t, he would most certainly not be wearing this on his wedding day. Still, Thorin would want to see him all the same... and with that thought, he forced his head to be held high as he waddled to the bedroom doors and entered the main chamber to where Thorin and Prion were waiting.

It wasn’t until he’d gotten to the centre of the room and two loud wolf-whistles met his ears that he realised that Fili and Kili were also waiting for him. The two young dwarves were lounging next to Thorin on the couch and were grinning madly.

“Lookin’ good, Uncle!” Kili smirked at him.

“Yeah, any more layers and we’ll be rolling you down the aisle,” Fili added which caused Bilbo’s face to pull into his ultimate death stare. Oh he would be having words with those young dwarves later. If he was their Uncle as they said, that did not exempt him from being able to put them on watch duty every day until their wedding day.

Thorin got to his feet to complete a circle around his hobbit and Bilbo only grew more irritated, he felt like a cow at the farmers market being put on show.

When Thorin finished his circle and came to adjust his collar, Bilbo hissed, “What are your nephews doing here?” This was humiliating enough as it was without the most mischievous pair in Erebor getting involved.

Thorin chuckled slightly, “They came uninvited... Plus I thought it might be useful to have another’s opinion.”

“So you chose Fili and Kili?” Bilbo asked sceptically. Of all the individuals in Erebor, Bilbo really wouldn’t be turning to Fili or Kili for fashion advice, pranks and how to make Thorin’s blood boil-yes, clothing- certainly not. Eru, they could barely even dress themselves. Bilbo wouldn’t forget them turning up to breakfast with their tunics backwards and their breeches absent. The weirdest part was that only Bilbo seemed to have an issue with it, the rest of the company had continued as though it was completely normal. But then it occurred to Bilbo that for them, it probably was. 

“Is it to your Majesty’s satisfaction?” Prion asked Thorin which only caused Bilbo’s frown to deepen. Bugger Thorin, what about his opinion? He was the one wearing the bloody thing after all.

Thorin’s smile grew, “Hmm... I’m not sure. What do you think, Ghivashel?”

Bilbo blushed at the endearment- Thorin never called him that in front of his subjects and only rarely in front of the company. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Fili and Kili making ‘kissy-faces’ at him which he pointedly ignored... perhaps they’d enjoy extra drills with Dwalin too. He would have a word with the warrior later, in the meantime...

“Err... well, the tailoring is very well done... It’s just that, I can barely move my arms and legs,” Bilbo pointed out politely. He didn’t want to offend the poor tailor who had no doubt worked tirelessly on these items but he really wouldn’t want to be rolled at his own wedding.

Prion frowned slightly at him, “Was your royal consort planning on moving your arms much?” to which Fili and Kili had to practically hide their faces in the cushions to cover their laughter.

“Well I wasn’t planning on cart-wheeling down the aisle but I would like to be able to move my arms beyond my chest at least,” Bilbo replied, losing his patience slightly. A small bout of laughter emanated from the Prince’s direction that apparently couldn’t be held in their cushions.

The tailor just stared at him dumbly as though Bilbo was being purposely difficult. Bilbo stared back, his gaze unwavering as he stood his ground on this, how was he even supposed to dance when he was trussed up like this?

“Perhaps the next item would be more to your satisfaction,” Prion finally relented and Bilbo wasted no time before turning tail and marching back into the bedroom with the Prince’s laughter chasing after him. However as he closed the door, he did hear a sharp yelp and Bilbo could only assume Thorin had cuffed their ears which gave him one reason to give a small smile.

He quickly undressed and sighed in relief when the itchy undershirt was finally gone and cool air soothed his skin. How Thorin got through every day wearing so many layers he’d never know.

Opening the next package, he saw this one was mainly comprised of furs and leather armour. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the items on, one after another and looked again in the mirror. Great... now he looked less like a ball and more like he was giving a warg a piggy back. The furs were heavy on his shoulders and the leather armour was extremely hot and sweaty. By the time he made it to the wedding feast, he’d be sliding there, forget the rolling.

And when Bilbo walked back into the main chamber, he noticed that Fili and Kili were desperately trying to hold back laughter but they looked far more humble this time around at least, their red ears atoned to that.

Thorin’s eyes softened as they fell on him and he smiled warmly, “I like this one,” he murmured. Of course Thorin would like the one where he looked like Bilbo had decided to dress in Thorin’s image with that great fur coat he’d lugged around.

Bilbo suppressed a scowl- he would stay polite, he chanted in his head like a mantra. It was a mantra he’d had to use many a time when he was invited to Thorin’s council meetings. Half the nobles talked so slowly, he thought he would decay before they actually got to their point.

“Are furs err... normal at weddings?” Bilbo asked both Prion and Thorin. They seemed to be more like winter wear in his eyes but then he’d never been to a Royal wedding.

“Absolutely,” Prion replied, puffing out his chest slightly. “Furs have been used in weddings all the way back since the First Age. It’s traditional.”

Traditional my arse, Bilbo thought bitterly. If it was traditional for them run around naked on anniversary of the day Mahal had created the dwarves because that was how they were born, would they do it? ... Yes in fact, they probably would and Bilbo was very thankful no traditions included nudity. Well, any that he knew of...

Seeing Bilbo discomfort, Thorin stepped in, “Perhaps you would appreciate a break and for me to go next?” he offered.

Bilbo almost sagged in relief. He’d only tried two outfits on and he was already feeling ready to drop and was thoroughly put out. He could only imagine the horrors that were packaged in his room. There was only one large package left but Bilbo was reluctant to open it. These things only tended to get worse and worse if this was going to go anything like the meeting with the Bards.

“Please,” he sighed and Thorin threw him a wry grin before taking his package and walking off to their bedroom.

Looking around, the only space he could see was between the two Princes. Sighing, he shrugged off the outer fur onto the table before he melted onto the floor and made his way over to sit between the two.

“So... Bilbo,” Kili started.

“Me and my dear brother here...” Fili added.

“Would just like to say...”

“... that you look very handsome today,” Fili finished.

Bilbo frowned at that; well... he wasn’t expecting a compliment. “Thank you,” he said suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the grinning pair.

“Yes, we think your aspiration to become... how did Beorn put it?” Kili asked his brother.

“Thorin’s little bunny,” Fili supplied.

“That’s it, we think your aspiration to live up to your title, is truly admirable,” Kili finished grinning.

Bilbo spluttered- he’d hoped they’d forgotten that nickname. After months of enduring their teasing as Thorin and Bilbo’s relationship developed, he thought that had gotten dead and buried. Apparently not...

He was saved from replying when the bedroom door opened and Thorin strode very majestically into the room. Now that wasn’t fair... how did Bilbo end up looking like a hobbit gone wild when Thorin  just looked so handsome. It was more similar to Bilbo’s first outfit, with the tunic and surcoat, but where his had been deep red, Thorin’s was midnight blue. On his shoulders, he wore a blue cloak with a black fur trim.

Thorin strode forward and came to stand before them in all his regality. The infernal dwarf even had the nerve to do a slight hair toss... Bilbo suddenly felt very hot and the layers of leather armour were not helping in the slightest.

Seeing Bilbo’s sudden flush creeping up his neck, Kili immediately elbowed Bilbo cheekily, who jumped slightly at the contact. He’d forgotten anyone else was in the room, if he was honest; he was more concerned with observing how the blue of Thorin’s tunic matched his eyes.

“And how does that feel, your majesty?” Prion asked Thorin as he adjusted one of the clasps holding his cloak on his shoulder.

Thorin looked thoughtful for a moment, “I’m not sure,” he said uncertainly. How could he not be sure? Surely he noticed how... how handsome he was? If it wasn’t for the other three in the room, Bilbo would have most certainly pulled the majestic idiot into a deep kiss that would leave this whole affair entirely forgotten.

Taking a deep breath to ensure his voice did not betray him, Bilbo said, “I-I think we’ve found winner.”

The King frowned at him, “You don’t want to see the others?” he asked.

“No... no, I think that’ll do,” Bilbo replied. He didn’t think he’d be able to sit through any more Thorin looking just so darn perfect. If the outfits made him look any more handsome, Bilbo might just have lie down for a bit.

Thorin smirked smugly as he understood Bilbo’s meaning. “Then there’s just you to sort out. Come, hobbit mine, I think you’ll need help with that last package.”

Suspicion filled Bilbo’s mind but he followed Thorin out of the room all the same.

“If this is another warg pelt or piece of armoury, then Fili and Kili are going in dresses,” Bilbo threatened. If there was anything that was going to take the attention away from him on his wedding day, it would be the royal prince’s dressed up like hobbit lasses and Thorin just being... well, Thorin.

Thorin just smiled as he handed Bilbo the last package. “Open it,” he said softly.

Bilbo raised his eyebrows and huffed slightly as he unwrapped the package. But his face immediately fell slack as he stared down at the last outfit and his jaw dropped. Inside it was a waistcoat of deep green with beautiful gold embroidery that laced around the buttons in the shape of acorns. With it was a simple cream shirt and breeches. It wasn’t on the level of Thorin’s regality but then that wasn’t Bilbo.

“Do you like it?” Thorin asked uncertainly.

Bilbo turned to face him, “Thorin, I... I love it,” he admitted, “But the other outfits, why-?”

Thorin then grinned guiltily, “Well, you didn’t think I would let you get away with getting me to eat fish eggs and making me endure dance lessons now did you?”

Bilbo gaped at him, “You! Oh we will be having words Thorin Oakenshield,” but even he couldn’t hold back the giggle in his throat. Had their wedding planning really turned into a battle in trying to get one over each other?

However, Thorin was not dissuaded in the slightest, “Although I must admit...” he started.

“Yes?” Bilbo prompted, crossing his arms.

“You did look very cute in that second outfit, could I not-”

“No,” Bilbo said defiantly, “I will not be going to our wedding dressed like one of Beorn’s animals! I want to look like I belong at your side.”

Thorin eyes softened at Bilbo’s words and he placed his broad hands on Bilbo’s shoulders, “Bilbo, you would belong at my side regardless of whether you wore a potato sack or a waistcoat,” and he bent down to kiss Bilbo’s lips tenderly which helped to soothe Bilbo's growing migraine.

As they broke apart, Thorin added guiltily, “However, I’m afraid we’re not done...”

“What?” Surely this covered everything as regards their wedding attire?

“No... I’m afraid I have a few more items to... err... accompany your outfit,” Thorin said, smiling gently.

“What kind of ‘items’?” Bilbo asked, growing irritated once more. Thorin was really driving his emotions up and down today...

“Jewellery,” Thorin answered and Bilbo’s chest filled with dread. If it was one thing he hated, it was excessive jewellery, oh Thorin really did not appreciate Bilbo making him eat salad did he?

Chapter Text

“Thorin, are you sure this isn’t a little bit excessive?”

“Absolutely not, my Halfling. Now stand still,” Thorin told him as he placed another necklace around Bilbo’s neck.

Bilbo was not enjoying himself although he was thankful that Thorin had asked Prion, Fili and Kili to leave. And by leave, he meant drag the two prince’s out by the backs of their coats whilst the tailor hurried away with the rejected clothing. Ordinarily, Bilbo might have complained about Thorin man-handling his nephews but he hadn’t enjoyed them watching Bilbo try on clothes let alone watch him try on unnecessary jewellery.

In the past half hour alone, Bilbo had had to put on his new clothing, that he didn’t mind, but what he did mind was having to try on necklace after necklace to see what went with his outfit as well as countless rings, jewelled arm-bands and pins. If he had to wear this lot to the wedding, he was going to jingle worse than Lobelia’s pockets after visiting Bag-End.

Thorin stepped back to appreciate his work, a huge grin plastered across his face. Bilbo couldn’t return the gesture, he felt utterly ridiculous. He felt too weighed down by the sheer volume of gold and silver that decorated his body.

But then Thorin paused in thought and stepped forward to play with the hair behind Bilbo’s ear, causing the hobbit to shiver slightly.

“If you’d just have your ears pierced here-” Thorin started.

“No! I am not having my ears pierced, they're sensitive enough as it is,” Bilbo argued, crossing his arms in defiance.

Thorin stared at him for a moment before nodding reluctantly, “You’re right,” he agreed to Bilbo’s surprise but then the dwarf smirked mischievously, “They’d just get in the way,” he added, moving forward to kiss Bilbo’s ear but Bilbo put his fingers on the dwarf’s lips to push him back.

“No, you do not get any kisses after making me look ridiculous,” Bilbo huffed.

“You don’t look ridiculous,” Thorin pouted, “You look stunning.”

That only caused Bilbo to roll his eyes, “Now you’re just being ridiculous. Why do I have to wear all this jewellery and not you?” Apparently the only jewellery Thorin was going to wear was his gemmed braid clasps and rings. Not that Bilbo wanted Thorin covered with gems as he was, but it would be nice to be on even ground.

“I'm the King, I do not need to show off my wealth. However, I do need to show I will share it with my intended,” Thorin said seriously.

“Surely you can do that without emptying your treasure hoard on my head?!” Bilbo said in frustration, taking one of Thorin’s broad hands, “You know I don’t care about all that. I just want you.”

Thorin smiled softly, squeezing Bilbo’s hand, “I know, Amralime. But you must indulge me.”

Realising that this was one Dwarven tradition he could not escape, Bilbo replied, “Well... can we cut it down, just a little? All of this is incredibly uncomfortable,” he complained, his shoulder’s sagging.

Thorin was silent for a moment before he answered, “I guess your crown may show enough wealth...” Thorin trailed off but Bilbo’s brow immediately furrowed.

“My crown?” Bilbo asked sceptically. He wasn’t fond of Thorin prancing about in a crown as it was, let alone Bilbo having to join in.

Thorin smiled guiltily and moved to pick up the final box, “The wedding will involve you being crowned as my consort...”

Why didn’t anyone tell him anything? Really! “And you were going to tell me this...?”

“When I’d finished forging it,” Thorin answered before opening the ornately carved box to reveal a mithril circlet. It had been fashioned into the shape of vines which twirled around in a circle with mirthril flowers twisted into the metal. At the centre of each flower were tiny emeralds and sapphires which glinted in the light. Even Bilbo had to admit it was a truly incredible piece of craftsmanship; it must have taken Thorin ages!

“How long...?” Bilbo asked in awe as he traced the petals of a small forget-me-knot flower with his finger.

“... about two months,” Thorin admitted and Bilbo couldn’t help but smirk up at him.

“That sure of yourself were you?”

Thorin shrugged, “Even if you had rejected me, I was going to gift it to you... I thought the emeralds would go with your eyes, and well the sapphires...”

“Would match yours,” Bilbo answered for him. Oh he wished he could show this Thorin to the Thorin who had stumbled into his smial all that time ago, they’d barely even recognise each other.

Saying no more, Thorin lifted the crown from its bed of velvet and held it out towards Bilbo with a question in his eyes.

Obediently, Bilbo bowed his head and allowed Thorin to place the crown atop his curls where it fit snugly. He was thankful it was made of mithril and not gold or silver, the weight would definitely give him a headache that Thorin really didn’t want to be on the opposite end of. And yet, it did feel alien to have something on his head, but maybe he could get used to it if this was all the jewellery he was going to have to wear.

Lifting his head, Bilbo met Thorin’s eyes which had become incredibly soft and tender. “Aye,” he said, “I think that’ll do.”

Bilbo snorted, “That’ll do? What am I a pig you’re training?”

Thorin laughed gently at Bilbo’s tone before replying, “This is why I leave diplomacy to your able mouth.”

“Too right you will,” Bilbo smirked, “Come here,” he added, grabbing hold of Thorin’s braids to pull him down into a kiss. He’d had enough of Thorin’s sappiness for one day.

However, they were forced to jump apart when the doors to their chambers burst open. Thorin whirled around, displeasure filling his expression as he looked to see who had dared to burst into his chambers unannounced.

Peering around Thorin, Bilbo saw a dark haired dwarrowdam stood in the doorway. Her hair was pulled into intricate braids around her face which led down to a short beard on her chin. When two loud bursts of laughter filled the air, Bilbo realised that Fili and Kili were with her who were now hanging onto each other to stop themselves falling onto the floor with the intensity of their laughter. Bilbo blushed when he realised that he was still in all that flamboyant jewellery Thorin had thrust upon him and he could only stare dumbly at the trio, resisting the urge to crawl under Thorin’s cloak and never come out.

The dwarrowdam looked between the now frozen Thorin and the flushed Hobbit before saying, “Well, I was going to offer my congratulations but now I just feel sorry for your intended, brother. What in Mahal’s name have you done to him?”

The blood drained from Bilbo’s face when he realised this was Thorin’s sister, Dís. Well, talk about poor first impressions; this was not how he imagined meeting Thorin’s sister for the first time.

Thorin cleared his throat and raised his voice above the sounds of his nephew’s shrieks of laughter, “When did you get here?” he gasped out.

“Just now,” Dís answered, “I asked in letter Balin to keep the time of arrival secret so I could surprise you... Oh, be quiet you two, you sound worse than Thorin when he’s drunk,” she scolded her sons. Fili and Kili just about managed to compose themselves but a giggle did keep escaping from their mouths.

“Well are you going to introduce us, brother? Or are you just going to continue to gawk at me like an idiot?” Dís asked him, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Thorin looked lost for a second before stepping back to gesture between Bilbo and his sister, “Err... Bilbo, allow me to introduce my sister, Dís. Dís, this is my intended, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Bilbo offered, feeling the need to say something other than just stare.

“And you,” Dís replied, “I can only apologise for my brother’s idiocy. It tends to run on the male side of my family it would seem,” she said, looking between her brother and her sons.

Bilbo couldn’t hold back a laugh at Thorin’s stricken expression, “No apology needed- I’ve grown quite used to it. I apologise for my appearance, I assure you, I will not be looking like this again anytime soon,” he said which drew a slightly forlorn expression from Thorin.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Dís replied smirking, “It’s nice to see someone who can handle my brother- I think we’ll get along fine, Master Baggins. But, I’m afraid I must leave you both, I have a mountain of unpacking to do. Fili, Kili, you can help the others carry my cases to my chambers.”

The Prince’s faces instantly dropped. “But they’re so heavy-” Kili complained.

“And the Royal Quarters are up three flights of stairs from the entrance chamber,” Fili moaned.

Dís just smiled at her sons, “Exactly. I’ve heard you’ve been terrorising your Uncles these past few months and I can only imagine that song I’ve heard on my way here was spread by you two. Now go and get my bags and don’t drop anything.” Bilbo’s ears turned red when he realised that must have been his stupid ‘ballad’ she was referring to.

“But mum!” they complained.

“Now!” she said sternly and they wasted no time before turning tail and running from their mother’s wrath.

Dís sighed, “Well, I best go after them if I don’t want all my belongings spread all over the stairs... I’ll see you both at dinner,” she finished before following after her sons.

Both Thorin and Bilbo stared at the empty doorway for a moment, both unable to get over what just happened. However, Bilbo found he liked Dís. If she could handle her sons and brother like that, then maybe there were a few lessons he could learn from her.

He was somewhat annoyed that Dís had found him in this ridiculous jewellery, that Thorin had put him in... but then that gave him an idea...

“Thorin?”

The dwarf turned to face him, his face still slightly pale. “Yes, Ghivashel?”

“I will wear this crown if you will allow me to make a few adjustments to yours,” Bilbo offered, resisting the urge to grin widely.

Thorin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What kind of adjustments?”

“Oh, nothing major... just a few flowers here and there,” Bilbo answered as Thorin’s face dropped in horror.

Thorin was going to look spectacular in a flower crown!

Chapter Text

Bilbo sat nervously whilst he waited for the first of the ‘gift-givers’ to arrive. Apparently, for dwarven weddings, gifts were given by family members and friends before the wedding in a ceremony. That would have been fine if their ceremony was confined to the company and Thorin’s family, but because it was a Royal wedding, the whole bloody kingdom was invited to give gifts!

Thorin had told him that it was aimed at building relations between the Royal Family and their subjects as well as the trading communities who wanted to show off their wares and promote their businesses.

Eru knows what they were going to receive. Balin had slipped in not moments before to inform them that quite a lengthy line had grown outside of the throne room who would be admitted to enter once family and friends had finished their part. Bilbo was just thankful that Lobelia and Otho weren’t here yet. He dreaded to think what they would bring based on his previous experiences at Solstice. The last Winter Solstice he’d spent in the Shire, he’d given Lobelia a beautiful quill and ornately carved writing board. It had therefore pained him greatly when he saw her use the writing board as a doorstop and the quill to dust the inside of her pots. She’d given Bilbo a, not so subtle, book on downsizing and the value of small smials for lonesome Bachelors. It was the only book in his house he hadn’t read and it was also the only book he’d ever wanted to use to knock someone out with.

Surely whatever the dwarves had to bring forward was nothing as bad as that? And yet, based on his previous experiences over the past few weeks with dwarven bards and unexpected ceremonies, he was not optimistic.

Dís, as Thorin’s sister, was the first to approach the twin thrones and present her gift. Bilbo knew he could count on Dís to be at least sensible about her choice of gifts. He’d found her to be the most level headed and sensible dwarf that he’d ever met. How Fili and Kili were her sons, he’d never know.

Bowing deeply, Dís passed Thorin a smooth wooden box which he accepted with a regal nod of his head. With steady hands, Thorin lifted the lid of the box and stared at the contents within. If Bilbo had to describe the expression on Thorin’s face, he would have described it as being deeply moved and stunned. From his position, Bilbo could not quite see what was in the box but he did see the glint of some gems that could have been rubies.

After allowing Thorin to take in what he had received, Dís started, “My brother, I gift to you a set of braid clasps and beads that were forged by...”

“Frerin,” Thorin gasped out in awe and Bilbo sat a little straighter in his seat, “These were the first items he ever forged.” He then proceeded to lift one between the pads of his fingers. For being the first thing Frerin had ever forged, they were exquisite. The first was a small gold bead with tiny rubies pattering its edge. Its simplicity did nothing to dull its beauty.

Dís’s face softened as she saw how moved her brother had become, “Yes, he gave them to me to practice braiding my hair with. And now I gift them to you so that you may teach your intended the braiding styles of our people,” she said, casting a glance at Bilbo who smiled in thanks.

Before Dís could get any further, Thorin handed the box to one of the servants who were to take the gifts away as they received them and stood to embrace his sister warmly. As they pulled back, they bashed their foreheads together in a fashion Bilbo knew to be a traditional method of showing affection, but he could not help with wince all the same. After Bilbo had been named the ‘saviour of the King’, he’d lost count of how many dwarves had tried and succeeded to bash his forehead. Once he’d been admitted to Oin for concussion, after a guard in a helmet had decided to knock heads, Bilbo had made Thorin issue out a public notice that he had skull injuries from the battle and so could not possibly knock his head against anything, especially a dwarf’s forehead.

With one final shared smile, Dís moved off and Thorin returned to his seat. Bilbo reached over a squeezed Thorin’s forearm in reassurance and affection and the dwarf cast him an almost watery smile. If all these gifts were going to promote such a reaction, they may collapse from emotional exhaustion. Simply seeing Thorin so emotional was enough to stir Bilbo greatly; he was just so used to the dwarf being as stoic as the rocks he slept under.

Their gaze was broken by the sounds of footsteps which indicated the next guests were here to give their gifts. Looking down, Bilbo saw Fili and Kili standing before their thrones and he immediately threw a glance at Dís who was waiting on the side, giving her sons a serious glance that could be mistaken for nothing other than- ‘If you mess this up, I’m not having grand-dwarflings’.

The brothers looked quite serious and were formally dressed, no doubt from their mother’s insistence. They each stepped forward and handed the couple two books, one for Thorin and one for Bilbo.

It was a heavy, leather bound thing with rough Khuzdul runes etched across the front. The only word Bilbo could make out was ‘Dwarven’.

“A book on Dwarven Culture for you, Uncle Bilbo,” Kili explained gleefully. Bilbo couldn’t hold back a smile when he realised this must have been a suggestion by Dís. After Bilbo had explained how Thorin had proposed to Bilbo, Dís had not been impressed when Bilbo had told her he had absolutely no idea what was going on and had called her brother ‘rock-brained’.

“And for you, Uncle Thorin, a book on Hobbit Culture, as written by dwarves,” Fili added with a grin. Suspicion filled Bilbo’s mind when he noticed the characteristic glint in their eyes, they were up to something...

 However, he was more so surprised that a book had been written on Hobbit culture, and by a dwarf no less! He would have to read it with Thorin to check its accuracy; Hobbits were almost as secretive as dwarves when it came to their culture. It was what came with living near big-folk- the less they knew, they more protected they were.

“Thank you, boys,” Bilbo said eventually whilst Thorin flicked through the contents. The King’s raised brow did nothing but concern Bilbo further, but he wouldn’t get the chance to look at the book until later, for now the company had to give their gifts.

The first to step forward was Dwalin, as Thorin’s personal guard and longest friend. The dwarf kneeled before them and Bilbo knew Thorin had to resist telling him to rise- he hated it when the company bowed to him after how badly he’d acted towards them at the end of the quest.

Dwalin kept his head bowed as he recited, “I have no great gifts to give you, my Kings. I offer you my service and I swear that I will protect you both and your family for the ages to come, for I shall continue to serve you even when you enter the halls of your fathers.”

Bilbo was somewhat taken aback that Dwalin had referred to him as a ‘King’, he wasn’t really, he was just a consort who had yet to be crowned. Still, he was moved by the gesture.

“Arise, Dwalin son of Fundin,” Thorin answered softly, “Your service is a great enough gift, my friend.”

“My King,” Dwalin bowed again before stepping back and allowing the three ‘Ri brothers to step forward.

As the eldest, Dori was the first to start. “In memory of the first time you both met and of the start of our adventure, I have crafted for you two matching tankards in the hope that you will drink together for many years to come.” In hindsight, Bilbo could smile at their first meeting even if it had been disastrous for his blood pressure.

Ori was the next to step forward and he passed Bilbo a long tapestry which stretched from Bilbo’s lap and onto Thorin’s. Tracing the threads with his finger, Bilbo realised that this was the Durin family tree, all the way from the first Durin to Fili and Kili at the bottom, the last heirs of Durin. Emotion welled in Bilbo’s chest when he saw his name connected to Thorin’s by a strong golden thread. Glancing up at Thorin, he saw that the dwarf had also seen their names together; it made the reality of their engagement seem all the more real that no so long from now, Bilbo would indeed be joining the Durin family tree.

“Did you make this?” Bilbo asked Ori, his voice thick with emotion.

The young dwarf blushed and nodded his head, “I wanted to give you something to show that you are one of us now. If the Durin’s are our Lord Protectors, then you are family to every dwarf in this Mountain,” he told Bilbo, his voice stronger than Bilbo had ever heard it.

Bilbo’s throat constricted in emotion and he found himself unable to answer. He already considered the company his family and more, but to have it requited and shown in front of their court was another thing entirely.

Seeing that his intended was as close to tears as he had been earlier, Thorin saved Bilbo the need to reply, “Thank you Master Ori and Master Dori.”

Ori’s face turned all the more red at having been addressed by the King and he stumbled back to allow his final brother to present his gift.

Nori handed Bilbo a slim dagger that was sheathed in incredibly soft, but firm, leather. “I know you have your wee sword but I thought you may want some protection should you find yourself caught unawares. It should fit within any tight space, say a boot or under a belt,” he said but then smirked and added, with his bent slightly closer to Bilbo so that no-one else could hear, “Plus, I thought you might want something in case this marriage craps out,” finishing it off with a wink and retreating off to his brothers.

Bilbo gaped at him for a moment then looked between the dagger and the curious face of Thorin who had missed the exchange entirely. He couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter, even if the gift was slightly absurd- trust the spy-master to be ready for any eventuality.

When Thorin frowned at him, Bilbo just promised, “Later,” before handing the dagger and tapestry to a dwarf who would put it with their steadily growing pile of gifts.

The rest of the company then came forward to present their gifts and Bilbo could not help but feel grateful and touched by what they had received. From Balin, he’d given Bilbo a new set of quills and ink and to Thorin, he’d given him Sunday Mornings and Evenings free of duties so that he could spend more time with his consort and take a break from ruling. That they both could appreciate greatly. Of late, their days had been filled with nothing but attending court and council meetings followed by wedding planning and soothing headaches. They had therefore, thanked Balin most profusely for the simple gift of time.

From Bifur and Bofur, Bilbo had received a grand and rather bulky writing desk which had taken four dwarves to carry from the room. The table-top had been simple oak-wood but Bilbo could not help but smile fondly when he saw acorns and oak-leaves twisting up the table-legs.

And from their brother, Bombur, Bilbo also received new dishes and pots for cooking which was as much as gift for Bilbo as it was for Thorin since it surely promised that he’d be getting more of Bilbo’s, now famed, cooking. However, Bilbo was pretty sure Thorin was going to ban any fish, stew or asparagus making the pot after the last time Bilbo had cooked for him.

Finally, from Oin they received various Herbal remedies and bath salts which he’d given with a heavy wink that had resulted in Bilbo blushing right up to the tips of his ears. And from Gloin, he gave them a gold locket so that they too could hold pictures of their ‘family’ which Bilbo had been slightly confused about. Apart from Thorin, who else would he want to hold a picture of? He realised he must have been speaking about Fili or Kili, they were the closest equivalent they had to Gloin’s Gimli.

With the family and friends part of the ceremony over, it was time for them to meet their subjects and accept whatever gifts they had procured for the Royal couple. Unless the gift was threatening or greatly insulting, they were not allowed to refuse it. And that fact alone made Bilbo feel incredibly nervous. He would have to smile and nod through every gift they received, and this would surely take hours. He already felt completely exhausted just from the company’s gifts which had made him want to both laugh and cry.

It started off promising, various jewellery makers had made various pins and rings for the King and his consort to wear, saying that they would be honoured for the Royal Family to carry their work which they had said they would do with pride. Although, Bilbo was not too keen on a the ear-rings he’d received, he certainly was not going to get his all too sensitive ears pierced just for the pleasure of their people. And he was definitely not going to get his nose pierced which he’d conveyed to Thorin through a stern glance once the jeweller, who had given Bilbo several gold nose-rings, had left.

Thorin had received many new robes and other items of clothing he’d no doubt look utterly majestic in whilst Bilbo had been surprised to receive several potted plants after apparently it had become known that hobbit’s greatly prized nature and plants. He’d been told they were plants that would survive even in the lack of sunlight within the Mountain.

However, it was not only hobbit’s love of plants which had become known and the gifts steadily went downhill after Bilbo and Thorin received the most unusual gift of the day.

The blood draining from his face, Bilbo leant across to Thorin whispering, “Thorin... is that...?”

“Yes... I do believe it is,” Thorin whispered back, his face equally pale and confused whilst the carpenter stepped forward with his gift that had to be carried between two other dwarves.

“Your Grace, My King, may I offer my congratulations on your engagement and I wish you all the luck in the future of your family,” the dwarf said which only aided to confirm that, yes, the gift he had brought for Bilbo and Thorin was indeed a cradle. Bilbo racked his brains, trying to think how in the world this dwarf had thought that they could have children. They’d given no indication that they would be adopting and he was pretty sure that only dwarrowdams could carry- hence why dwarflings were so highly revered.

Looking around, Bilbo could see the members of the court and company smiling knowingly and not at all shocked or surprised by the unusual nature of their gift.

Thorin met his gaze and Bilbo shook his head slightly to convey that he had no idea what in Yavanna’s garden was going on.

Clearing his throat to try and be polite, Bilbo addressed the carpenter, “Err... we accept this gift and thank you master-?”

“Mendil,” the dwarf finished for him.

“Mendil,” Bilbo stammered, “Right... well, thank you,” he finished, dismissing the dwarf who left with a steep bow.

Well that was... unexpected. He wondered whether the dwarf was just confused and had mistaken Bilbo for being female, little was known about Hobbits after all. But then that reminded him, there was one source of information on hobbit culture that was within the Mountain.

“May I take a look at that book on Hobbit Culture,” Bilbo asked the nearest dwarf before they could call forward the next one. His request was met with a few disapproving glances from the nobles for this interruption in the ceremony’s events but as far as Bilbo was concerned, they could stick their beards up their arses, he needed to get to the bottom of this.

When the book was placed in his lap, Bilbo waited not a second before opening up the contents and turning to the chapter on ‘Hobbit families’. Aware that the rest of the court was waiting for him to finish, he read in his head quickly, ‘From my crude observations of Shire Hobbits, I have noted that Hobbits have unusually large families with litters of up to 10 hobbitlings. I can only conclude that male hobbits are as able to carry as female hobbits. How this is possible, I have yet to investigate, however I can safely say that, judging by the girth of several male hobbits, that I have been privileged enough to witness male hobbits in the late stages of pregnancy.’ Oh Yavanna and all her bleeding flowers, they didn’t think he was pregnant did they? And he immediately became very self-conscious of his slightly rounded belly. But no, they knew dwarven courting forbid such coupling until marriage. Yes, there had been bathing and heavy petting but not that!

His hands shaking slightly, he handed the book to Thorin and pointed to the section he needed to read. Thorin’s face morphed from concern, to shock and then finally to disbelief as he read further and further.

“Is this true?” he asked Bilbo once he’d read all that he needed to, keeping his voice low and private.

“No!” Bilbo gasped out, “Did you honestly think I would marry you and neglect to tell you that I could get pregnant?”

Thorin just shrugged in reply and Bilbo rested his forehead against his palm. This could only mean that Fili and Kili had spread this knowledge throughout Erebor. He knew they were up to something! Looks like Dís would not be having grand-dwarflings after all. How many others were now walking around with the false belief that Bilbo and Thorin would be having dwobbits shortly after being married?

It transpired that the answer to that was- quite a lot! Bilbo and Thorin had had to smile and nod through numerous gifts of baby-clothes, toys and even a set of ‘my dwarflings very first braiding beads’. How was he supposed to tell these dwarfs that he could not carry when they had taken so much time to make these fine gifts for him? The truth was bound to come out eventually... maybe he could pretend that he’d had an ‘unfortunate’ accident that had resulted in him not being able to carry. And yet, he didn’t want the dwarfs to go on believing that male hobbits could get pregnant...

He was jumped out his thoughts when the doors to the throne room burst open and the sounds of hooves echoed off of the walls. Lifting his head to face the intruder, Bilbo’s mouth dropped open in shock when he saw that no other than Dain himself was currently riding into their throne room riding his pig! He wasn’t supposed to be here until just before the wedding, the same as every other guest who was from outside of Erebor. It had been agreed they would give their gifts at the wedding feast since it was too difficult to plan a time that would suit all other parties when the Kings of Mirkwood, Dale and Iron-hills had greater issues to deal with than a wedding.

“I’m no’ late am I?” Dain boomed as he clopped towards them.

Thorin and Bilbo just gaped at him in mutual shock. From behind him, Bilbo could hear Dís tutting disapprovingly.

“No, Lord Dain,” Balin answered, “You’re still in time.”

“Ah, excellent,” Dain replied as he dismounted, leaving his boar to sniff at Fili’s boots.

Bilbo’s stomach clenched at the thought of what this dwarf, who was clearly half-mad, would bring for their wedding.

His curiosity was quickly sated when Dain reached inside his robes and brought out a wriggling mass of wiry fur. Initially, Bilbo could not identity what it was but then it started to squeal and all doubt was removed from his mind. Dain had brought them a piglet which he then proceeded to dump on Bilbo’s lap.

“Chopper’s mother came bac’ into season and he was the pick of the litter,” Dain proclaimed proudly as though he was speaking about his own son. Putting his hands around the piglet’s waist to stop him jumping off his lap, Bilbo lifted the creature up for inspection. As it stopped wriggling to stare back at Bilbo, he did have to admit it was quite cute... for a pig. What were they going to do with it? The Royal Chambers were no place for livestock, or battle-boars as this must be.

The exhaustion must really be getting to him as another thought sprung to mind and he turned to his intended who was regarding the piglet cautiously, as though afraid it was threatening to eat Bilbo’s face.

“I guess all this baby stuff won’t be going to waste,” he said and Bilbo and Thorin shared a pained glance before dissolving into laughter, the tension and bizarre nature of their gifts finally getting to them.

The rest of the court, having missed the exchange, could only watch in confusion whilst the Royal couple laughed at their own private joke with a piglet on the consort’s lap.

Nothing ever did seem to go as they quite expected, but this still beat whatever drab gift the Sackville’s would be bringing. Whatever it was, after this farce, Bilbo could be sure he could sit through anything. 

Chapter Text

“Thorin! Stop!”

Thorin blinked several times, realising he’d been staring at the wall for Mahal knows how long. “What?” he grumbled, looking up at Bilbo who was staring irritably at the floor.

“No, no, not you. The pig’s just run off with a cream napkin I was looking at... Thorin, come back here!” Bilbo yelled, getting up out of his seat to chase the piglet across their chambers.

Thorin scowled at the ball of fur which was squealing excitedly whilst Bilbo chased him, still clutching the napkin firmly in its mouth.

“Careful brother, if that scowl gets any deeper we’ll have to iron your face to get it out,” Dís remarked dryly as she sifted through samples of table cloths.

Thorin just huffed and crossed his arms against his chest, “Well, this is your fault.”

Dís paused in her browsing to stare up at her brother with an expression that could only be described as being a cross between amusement and irritation. “What? Because I said your name when you and your pet both happened to be the room and now the pig won’t answer to anything except Thorin? Yes, excellent deduction brother, it most certainly is my fault and not the fault of our dear cousin for thinking a pig is an appropriate wedding gift,” Dís said sarcastically and Thorin’s lips twitched slightly in amusement, not quite pulling into a smile.

Ever since Bilbo had brought the thing back to their chambers, they had tried to get it to respond to any other name, absolutely anything. They’d tried Buttercup, Legolas (the creature was irritating Thorin on levels akin to Thranduil after all), Pumba and Thorin had even thrown out the suggestion of  Death Pork, although when he did suggest that he was more thinking along the lines of what he’d now like to do with the animal. And yet, every name had failed and gone ignored. After Dís had uttered Thorin’s name when they were ending the Gift Giving ceremony, the piglet had perked up its ears and would respond to nothing else. Thorin half suspected Dain may have been involved, he had been talking of wanting to name his first son Thorin after all- in the King’s honour, and he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if the pig had picked up on that too.

But the pig was nothing like him! Although Fili had remarked that they shared the same face to nose proportions which had earned him and his brother (just for laughing and encouraging him) a night guarding the southern walls which became bitterly cold during the night. Still, it did nothing to relieve the embarrassment of sharing a name with an animal which barely knew the difference between its tail and its hoof.

By the time, Bilbo had managed to wrench the napkin out of the piglet’s mouth, he was panting, leaving said pig to chew on their table-leg.

“Right,” Bilbo gasped out, “Now what do you think of this napkin and this tablecloth?” he asked Thorin, picking up the soggy napkin and a sample of green tablecloth. Bilbo raised his eyebrows expectantly whilst he waited for Thorin’s answer.

What did he think? What kind of question was that?  They were... nice, he guessed? He didn’t really know if he was honest, he wasn’t very good at this sort of thing- something which he’d learnt when they’d first embarked on this painful conquest through napkins, flowers, plates and Eru knows what else. Just hours before, traders had filled their chambers with their wares for the Royal Wedding and had dutifully left them to browse and give their verdict later in the day.

The only problem was, Thorin had to admit to himself, he had no idea what he was doing. How was he supposed to know whether they should have pattered tablecloths to go with plain napkins... or whether they should have white roses to go with a traditional Shire Wedding theme or to omit flowers entirely to go with a more dwarven theme? It all looked the same to him and he didn’t think it would make any difference to the wedding whatsoever. Surely the most important elements were the food and the crowning? And the wedded couple too of course. With everything else going on, no-one was going to be paying attention to whether the cutlery matches the style of plate.

Feeling the pressure of Bilbo’s stare, Thorin said the only thing he could think to say, “They’re... good.”

Bilbo threw him a despairing look, “You’ve said that to everything I’ve suggested. Surely you’ve got to think something about what our wedding should look like.”

“I don’t know!” Thorin whined, picking up a napkin and table cloth at random and presenting them to Bilbo. “There.”

Surprised by Thorin’s sudden show of life, after the King had been staring into space for so long, Bilbo inspected the combination and his face morphed into disgust, almost as though Thorin was a cat who had presented Bilbo with a mauled, dead bird.

“Really, that embroidery with that trellis pattern?” Bilbo said sceptically, tilting his head as though a better angle may make the combination less horrific.

Sighing in defeat, Thorin threw the samples back onto the table. “Well, what do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want Thorin, it’s what we want. You’ve got to meet me halfway here,” Bilbo pleaded, giving Thorin his big pleading eyes which, in other circumstances, may have led to some cuddling and kissing. But with their room filled with a mess of wedding tat, Thorin doubted he’d be able to make it around the table without ending up in a vase of Peonies or getting knocked out after falling over the box of napkin rings.

“I’m afraid you’re fighting a losing battle, Bilbo. Thorin never had an eye for colour or taste in clothing; our mother had to pick his clothes until she decided that he was way too old for someone else to be choosing what the Prince wore. Of course, she quickly decided otherwise when he turned up to court in black breeches and a yellow tunic that was meant to be worn as an under-tunic,” Dís interjected with a grin to lighten the mood. Thorin was beginning to see who Fili and Kili took after in their mischievous ways...

“No!” Bilbo gasped out disbelievingly. Thorin leant back into his chair when he realised that he was going to have to suffer through more ‘tales of Thorin’s childhood’. It was bad enough when Dís had gotten out the album of drawings of them as children that the royal scribe had drawn all those years ago. Bilbo had been cooing for hours after seeing ‘Thorin’s first beard’ and him trying on his ‘first boots’.

“I kid you not,” Dís laughed, “He looked like a bumblebee!” This resulted in both his consort and sister dissolving into giggles that only worsened when they glanced back at Thorin to find the dwarf glaring at the pair. Even wedding planning was better than this.

“I hate you both,” Thorin scowled, with no real malice, sparing a glance for the other Thorin which had now decided to lie on top of the thick hair on Bilbo’s feet.

Bilbo only laughed in response, “Lighten up, love. You’ve got the rest of eternity of this to look forward to.”

“Don’t remind me,” Thorin muttered, having no doubt that even in the afterlife, Bilbo and his sister would continue to torment him.

“Right, right, we got off topic,” Dís said once their laughter had died down enough for them to be able to see what they were looking at. “Now, Bilbo, I was thinking that perhaps this tablecloth would look nice with that napkin you have there, and if we get those inlaid napkin rings that we were... yes, those ones, then I think that’ll be a match,” Dís said with some uncertainty as she held up a white tablecloth with fancy gold embroidery up to the cream napkin.

“That’s brilliant Dís!” Bilbo gasped out. As Thorin looked at the arrangement, he couldn’t see what was so impressive about throwing a few different coloured cloths together; she hadn’t exactly made them herself.

“But wait-” Bilbo then frowned, “If we switch out this napkin with this off-white one-”

“Then that’ll be even better!” Dís exclaimed as Bilbo rearranged the combination. Thorin was thankful they hadn’t asked his input, maybe if they left him alone long enough, he could re-find that spot of wall he’d been staring at.

“Now we just need to sort out the flowers,” Bilbo said seriously, shaking piglet-Thorin off his feet so that he could stand and drag dwarf-Thorin out of his seat.

Reluctantly, Bilbo pulled Thorin over to the many vases of flowers which contained species that he could not identify for all the gold in Erebor.

He’d expected Bilbo to point to various flowers and ask his opinion on whether they would suit the new arrangement. Therefore, he was completely unprepared for Bilbo to take out various flowers and carnations and hold them up to his salt and pepper hair for comparison.

“What are you doing?” Thorin asked bewildered when Bilbo stuck a string of forget-me-nots into his hair.

“Well you didn’t think I’d have ordered these for the tables did you? No, these are for you,” Bilbo explained, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stuck flower after flower into Thorin’s hair. “We’re having bouquets of assorted lilies in the corners of the rooms, we sorted that out whilst you were busy studying the wall.”

Thorin could feel the stems scratching at his scalp and they made him itch slightly. Seeing Thorin’s discomfort, Bilbo added, “Don’t worry, they won’t be in your hair like this on the day, I just need to know what will work, colour-wise, with your hair.”

Ah, the dreaded flower crown. It certainly wasn’t traditional, or majestic for that matter, but he could tell, from the look in Bilbo’s eyes, that this was important to him, even if Thorin really didn’t understand why. If Bilbo had made compromises in his wedding attire then so could he, he rationalised. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

“Looking good, brother,” Dís grinned as she came into view to inspect Bilbo’s work for herself.

“Go away,” Thorin told her sullenly.

She held up her hands defensively, “Is that any way to speak to your dear sister? But I think I’ll leave you both, I don’t think you’ll need my help anymore,” she said with a wink at Bilbo.

“Thank you so much for your help Dís,” Bilbo said gratefully.

“Anytime,” she smiled, “I best go and see what’s left of the kitchen, I left Fili and Kili scrubbing the stains off Bombur’s pots this morning,” she added warily before exiting the room, leaving Bilbo and the two Thorins alone.  

The room fell into silence after she’d left, the only noises being made were the occasional ‘umm’ and ‘ahh’ as Bilbo adjusted the flowers on Thorin’s head. When it got the point where Thorin could feel his head, physically, weighed down by the sheer number of flowers on his head, Bilbo stopped and made a circle around the King, checking his work from all sides before coming back to Thorin’s front again.

“Well?” Thorin asked when Bilbo continued to stare at him.

Bilbo answered by taking Thorin’s hand and pulling him towards a large, standing mirror where they could study their reflection, side by side. Thorin couldn’t believe the transformation on his head. The stems weaved in and out of his locks of hair, allowing the flowers to mesh together in an arrangement of blues, greens and whites. No doubt they held some meaning, Bilbo had told him once that all flowers meant something, but he was too stunned by the sight of him in flowers that he could think no more of it. It wasn’t excessive, or too heavy in any way. It was just... beautiful, in a sense even Thorin could appreciate.

“Obviously, when I make the final crown, the flowers won’t be quite so haphazard,” Bilbo said, his insecurity showing in his tone. “I-I know you don’t really like flowers, but... what do you think?”

Smiling, for the first time today, Thorin looked down at his consort. “You’ve done a wonderful job,” Thorin complemented and Bilbo beamed in response, pleased by Thorin’s answer.

Taking Thorin by surprise once more, Bilbo pulled down on Thorin’s braids for a kiss, the heat from it lighting up Thorin’s chest and face to the point where he half-wondered whether the flowers, which were now tangled in with the fistfuls of  hair Bilbo had grabbed, would wilt from the intensity of it.

The kiss was cut off abruptly and Bilbo stepped back with a rather curious expression, his nose twitching. Thorin feared he’d done something wrong but then Bilbo covered his nose to let out an incredibly violent sneeze.

“Maybe we should have the bellflowers towards the top,” Bilbo wheezed from the aftermath of his sneeze and Thorin chuckled at his red nose. “Or I won’t get through our first kiss as a married couple.”

“We can practice,” Thorin argued with a grin before leaning down to capture Bilbo’s once more. And practice they did, until all the flowers had fallen out of Thorin’s hair and onto the floor where they lay forgotten. That is, until Thorin the piglet came along and ate them off the floor.

Chapter Text

Writer’s block- something which Bilbo had never in his life experienced, even through the numerous volumes of books and stories he’d written. The words had always flowed onto the paper, never ceasing until his story lay before him in writing, ready to be read at the Summer fairs to the curious young faunts who had always gathered about his feet to hear his tales. Lobelia had always called them ‘stupid’ but then, she could never write anything if her life depended on it and Bilbo could not help but feel a shred of pity that it didn’t.

But now, after hours of scouring the library and reading passage after passage in the countless books the library contained, he just didn’t have the inspiration for writing his wedding speech. What did dwarves say at these affairs? Bilbo didn’t want to say anything which would cause offence or appear rude, not after Bilbo had publically complemented Thorin’s beard on how short and neat it was which had resulted in many gasps and rumours being spread that the courtship was going to be called off. Understandably, Bilbo had been very confused by their reactions, but none more than Thorin’s reaction. The dwarf had gaped at him for a solid minute before remarking that Bilbo did not have a beard at all and stalking off in a massive huff. Apparently, Bilbo had accidentally insulted Thorin by saying in dwarf language that Thorin ‘was so ugly, even a short beard was an improvement,’ which Bilbo thought was ridiculous. And Thorin had responded in kind by basically saying that Bilbo was, ‘too childish to know anything, as was evident by his lack of facial hair,’ not that Bilbo had felt particularly insulted at the time, he knew he didn’t have a beard! The issue had been resolved when Balin had found Thorin sulking in his chambers and had brought the two together to remind them of their cultural differences.

Which was why Bilbo was incredibly worried about this speech. He would be speaking to such a large reception of people that every word he said was not going to be forgotten for some time to come. For even when the dwarves got positively drunk on ale and the elves on wine, there would always be that one dwarf who would happen to remember every word Bilbo said and Bilbo wanted to be sure that his speech was unforgettable for all the right reasons.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved when he was found by Ori sometime later, even if he was found in manner he would usually be ashamed of- with his face pressed against an open book and his mouth open and drooling whilst his mind was within the firm and reassuring hold of sleep.

A shake at his shoulder stirred him, “Bilbo?” Ori whispered.

“Hm?” Bilbo grunted, “Go away Thorin, it’s not time for first breakfast,” he mumbled, snuggling further against his pillow, not registering why his pillow was now incredibly firm and uncomfortable.

“It’s not Thorin... Bilbo you’re in the library. There are people staring,” Ori whispered back, shaking the hobbit’s shoulder once more.

The library? The library! Yavanna’s mighty plow- he’d managed to fall asleep! Jolting awake, he managed to peel his face away from the slightly damp page to meet the blushing and pitying face of Ori.

And that was not the only face that was looking in his direction. Ori had been right when he’d said people were staring. From behind books on shelves and peering around the corners of bookshelves, he could see many curious and amused eyes watching as the King’s consort quickly pulled his mind away from the security of sleep. Now that they’d seen the hobbit was very much awake and glaring at every dwarf he caught, the eyes prompty disappeared back behind the shelves which they’d come from.

Bilbo felt his face heat up nonetheless, how embarrassing! “How long have I been asleep?” Bilbo asked Ori groggily, putting his head in his hands as all the knowledge he’d picked up over the past few hours came crashing through his brain worse than Dwalin when startled.

Ori fiddled with his cardigan nervously, “Err, not long I don’t think... It took me a while to get you to wake up. You were murmuring something about Thorin a-and flowers...”

Bilbo groaned at that, he desperately hoped his spectators hadn’t heard because no doubt that information would be relayed to Nori who, in turn, would tell the whole company.

“May I ask whether you were looking for something in particular?” Ori asked, seeing Bilbo’s discomfort, “Maybe I could help?”

At that, Bilbo managed a weak smile, half of his face still numb from being pressed awkwardly into a book and his neck still sore from the angle at which he’d been lain. “Not unless you know of any books on weddings and speeches,” Bilbo answered weakly, “These books have been useless,” he said, gesturing to the piled around him.

The titles had not exactly been reassuring but Bilbo had tried to read them anyway. ‘Your consort and you’ had been written by a King’s advisor some five hundred years ago and to say it was a bit outdated would have been an understatement. Bilbo had shut the book firmly after the author had insisted that public signs of affection were ‘unnecessarily disgusting acts’ and that the consort must keep themselves clothed, ‘from their feet to their neck’ and that, ‘a hat would also be preferable.’ For starters, Bilbo was not going to be told that he could not even hold Thorin’s hand in public or even smile at him in a way that would be interpreted as being ‘longingly’. And he was most certainly not going to start wearing shoes or hats- shoes messed up the hair on his feet and hats irritated his ears. He’d turned to the book to try and find some advice on what was deemed, in the present day, to be acceptable, with what he may be able to say in public, but the book had just given him a headache. And he didn’t even want to get started on what the other books were like!

“Ah, have you tried, ‘dwarven weddings since the first age’?” Ori asked, his brow furrowing as he cast his mind through the library in his brain.

“Yep,” Bilbo replied, not even a sentence on speeches, it had been too focussed on the food.

“Dwarven marriage councelling?”

“Yes.” He did not need a book telling him that to make his husband happy, he was going to have to ‘brush his beard every night’ and ‘cook his favourite meals three times a day’.

“How to have your perfect wedding?”

“Sadly.” The book had rambled on for ages about the importance of ale and food without a mention of speeches.

“Hmm,” Ori hummed, looking through the pile of books Bilbo had gathered. “Maybe you can’t find what you need in a book.”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked.

“He means,” another voice added behind him, “That what you need to say has to come from the heart,” it said teasingly.

Turning around, Bilbo had to suppress another groan when he saw Bofur and Nori coming towards them to sit at their table with them.

Bilbo snorted at Bofur’s words and tone, that sounded horribly cliché and clichés were at the top of things Bilbo wanted to avoid at this wedding.

“Yeah,” Nori added, “Like this- ‘Thorin, Thorin, your eyes are as blue as the sky and whenever I gaze at them, I feel as though I have transcended into Valinor’- see it’s easy!”

Bilbo thought he might be sick, that was worse than everything he’d come up with so far put together.

Clearly Bofur thought so too as he saved Bilbo the effort of replying with, “He’s writing a speech not a poem, idiot.”

“Well you come up with something better,” Nori retorted, slightly affronted.

Clearing his throat, Bofur started, “Thorin- from the moment I first saw you, I just knew- that I loved you and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you!”

Well that wasn’t right... He would admit that he’d been quite taken with Thorin’s majesty and handsomeness when he’d walked into his smial but then the dwarf had opened his mouth and any desire he’d felt towards the dwarf had fallen down as dead as the wheels of cheese Bombur had previously eaten. It hadn’t been till Balin’s story and the hug of the carrock that Bilbo had allowed his feelings for the dwarf to fully manifest.

Ori sighed dreamily at Bofur’s words, captivated and that caused the toy-maker to puff out his chest, proud of his words. This was romantic to dwarves? He really hoped that Thorin didn’t say that at their wedding, but with the dwarf’s way with words, he was not reassured.

Much to Bilbo’s horror, Ori added, “And when you first admitted that you loved me on top of the carrock, I knew, our love would never die.” Again, they hadn’t admitted their feelings for one another until after the battle, although there may have been a great deal of subtext and flirting in between.

“And when you got taken by the tree-shaggers, I thought my heart would break to be separated from you for even a moment,” Nori added, joining in the sickeningly sweet speech. Yes, he had been greatly relieved to find Thorin alive and well, and yes he felt better when Thorin was in sight, but he was a full grown Hobbit, his heart was not going to break from just being distanced from his dwarf.

Bilbo could only sit dumbstruck as he listened to ‘Bilbo and Thorin’s love story’ be retold in a way that could only be described as stomach churning. Every moment they spent together was dissected and twisted to include thoughts which had most certainly not been going through Bilbo’s mind! Well now at least he knew why the company had kept giggling and whispering every time Thorin and Bilbo had spoken to each other or even stood in each other’s presence.

After a while, the three of them trailed off to stare dreamily off into space and Bilbo just sat between them, stunned into silence that these dwarves had thought their pining and courtship so romantic and soppy.

The truth was- it really wasn’t for the most part. Thorin had driven him up the wall to begin with, and he still did to this day. Their relationship had been a rocky road and had not been born within a day or even a week, it had needed the entirety of the quest for them both to truly understand one another, in a way that none other did.

And it was with those thoughts that Bilbo realised that these dwarves had helped him, although not in the way they quite imagined, and a speech began to form in his mind. It would be truthful, almost bitterly so, but it would be no less romantic. In fact, it may be all the more romantic because of it.

In hindsight, perhaps Thorin hadn’t made the best choice when he’d gone to Dwalin for help with his speech. He was just stuck and Dwalin had been the closest dwarf on hand. Thorin knew he wasn’t good with words; he’d had that proven to him time and time before and during his courtship with Bilbo.

What he said in his head came out completely different when he said it out loud. For example, when he’d first seen Bilbo, he’d been surprised how different Bilbo looked to the other Hobbit’s he’d seen gawking at him through the Shire. So when he said, “So, This is the Hobbit,” and asked him on his weapon of choice, his mocking tone had crept in quite against his will. And when he’d said, “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar,” he’d been busy thinking of how his curls caught the light and how indecently revealing that robe of his had been. Like he said, his thoughts just didn’t come out loud right!

He didn’t even know what he was supposed to put into a speech. Words of devotion? More promises? Those words were meant for Bilbo, not his subjects, why couldn’t he just save them for his wedding night? Or all the nights after? Thorin was a private person, it was bad enough being the King and having his footsteps dogged by nosy subjects and nobles, let alone having their wedding publicised and shown for entertainment.

Thorin discomfort and anxiety had left his mind completely blank as he stared down at the quill and parchment as though willing the quill to pick itself up and start writing for him.

Dwalin sat next to him, equally dumbfounded by the King’s request for help in this matter. Thorin knew if he asked Dwalin to bring him the head of any one of his enemies, Dwalin would simply rise, brandish his axes and set off after the individual, not returning until he was successful or had died trying. Speech writing had not been in the job description as the King’s Royal guard.

“What abou’ poetry?” Dwalin suggested lamely, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

Well poetry was an idea, not that Thorin could write any, but he knew Bilbo enjoyed reading it. “Do you know any?” Thorin asked, not really feeling up to the task of reading through poetry books when he couldn’t understand half of the flowery language. In his opinion, when it was said in common or even in Khuzdul, it sounded too much like Sindarin for his own comfort.

“...no.” Dwalin answered after a pause, not that Thorin should be surprised. He didn’t suppose Dwalin’s daily routine consisted of sharpening his axes, guarding Thorin, glaring at nobles, training new guards and then, to top it all off, writing poetry.

“Great,” Thorin sighed dejectedly, resting his chin on his hand.

Feeling as though he’d failed his King, Dwalin started weakly, “Erm... Shall I compare thee to a joint of Pork?” Across the room, he could hear piglet-Thorin snort discontentedly from his pile of cushions that the piglet had quite taken to. Bilbo had insisted it was his turn to look after their pet today. They’d decided they couldn’t leave him unattended after they’d returned to their chambers after a long day to find half of their furniture’s legs chewed to pieces and the bottoms of their curtains reduced to a slobbery mess.

“A joint a pork?” Thorin asked sceptically. How was Bilbo in any way, like a joint of meat?

“Yeah,” Dwalin insisted, “Thou art more tender and more mouth-watering... Balin used to leave his poetry books lyin’ around,” he said sheepishly.

“Who’s tender and mouth-watering?” Balin said as he stepped into the room, Thorin hadn’t even heard the door open.

“No-one,” Thorin said immediately. Even with Bilbo’s love of poetry, he didn’t think Bilbo would quite appreciate being called ‘mouth-watering’.

Balin frowned at him with the same expression which had remained unchanged since Thorin was a dwarfling. “You’re writing your wedding speech,” he concluded, taking a seat around Thorin’s desk, next to his brother.

“Yes,” Thorin admitted, “But it’s a hopeless task!”

Sighing patiently, Balin said, “Well, first you should begin with thanking everyone for coming and then move to thanking individuals but then the next words need to come from you and certainly not my brother,” he said, shooting his brother a cursory glance.

“What words?” Thorin moaned, feeling no better off.

“Well, why are you marrying Bilbo?” Balin replied, entwining his fingers on the desk.

“Because I love him!” Thorin retorted, as if Balin had been accusing him of having any other motive.

Balin smiled at Thorin’s passionate defence, “I do not doubt that laddie. But the question is, what is it about Bilbo which makes him stand out against all the others who have sought your favour?”

That was so obvious Thorin didn’t feel it needed saying. Bilbo was just brilliant- he was smart, he was funny, loyal, kind, forgiving and far more beautiful than any other being Thorin had set eyes on. How could anyone not love him? And how he’d managed to stay a bachelor so long would always be a mystery to Thorin.

Seeing the play of emotions being written across Thorin’s expression, Balin’s face softened, “They don’t need to be great words that were borrowed from a book or another’s mouth. It will be enough for Bilbo to know that they were yours and yours alone. Even if you say them with all the grace of a cave-troll,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

That was somewhat reassuring and feeling slightly bolder, Thorin picked up his quill and dipped it in his inkwell and just wrote. He didn’t really think what he was writing, he allowed his feelings to take over and his heart to flow through his hand and onto the page in front of him. What he ended up with would need to be edited and refined for sure, but it was a start. And a start was all he needed.

Chapter Text

“What about Rivendell?” Bilbo suggested as he gazed down at the map of Middle-Earth spread out on the table before them.

Thorin’s frown deepened, “You’ve already seen Rivendell,” he pointed out gruffly.

“No harm in seeing it again,” Bilbo replied, “We could spend a couple of nights in Rivendell, then move through Bree and into the Shire.”

In response, Thorin just made a noise of discontent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing in a way which infuriated Bilbo to no end. They hadn’t had the map out long and Thorin already looked ready to split skulls, it was as though the map was personally insulting him, which was ridiculous!

“I don’t see why we need to go away at all,” Thorin replied sullenly, perhaps realising that if he didn’t reply with something then Bilbo was going to break the map over the dwarf’s head!

Bilbo sighed deeply, “Because if we stay, you know as well as I what will happen. You won’t be able to resist going to court-”

“I don’t enjoy listening to the nobles that much,” Thorin protested.

“No,” Bilbo conceded, “But you enjoy telling everyone what to do and Kinging too much to leave it in your sister’s hands whilst you’re still in the Mountain. We’ve been back at Erebor for over a year now, you’ve worked tirelessly day after day, your arse must be getting sore from sitting on that throne so much,” Bilbo teased. He’d sat on Thorin’s throne once, when he’d found himself alone in the Throne room and some childish delight and daring had overcome him. After all, how could he resist sitting on the throne and imitating the stoic King himself? Thorin had walked in just as Bilbo was firing all the nobles for their incompetency and declaring that vegetables are to become a staple food for all dwarves. Needless to say, Thorin’s lap had made a much more comfortable seat than the hard, cold stone that made up the throne.

Bilbo continued, “And never mind about you, I need a holiday. It’s going to take me months to get all this dust out of my lungs!” The library had been incredibly dusty when it had finally been unearthed, although from what Ori had told Bilbo, that the dust had been there long before the dragon’s attack. Apparently, caring for the library had not been high on Thror’s list of priorities.

“What about the Iron hills?” Thorin suggested, pointing to the small group of mountains.

“You want to spend our honeymoon with your cousin?” Bilbo asked sceptically, raising his eyebrow. Dain had been staying with them since the ‘Gift-giving ceremony’ and he’d almost declared five wars, eaten through their supplies of sausages and almost lost Chopper to an ‘unfortunate’ accident after the boar had eaten half of Kili’s arrows and chewed on his favourite bow. Clearly, nature was not fond of the two princes.

Thorin shrugged, “You want to spend it with the relatives you so despise,” he pointed out.

“We’ll be in the same area but we won’t be living with them. You know what Dain’s like, he’ll be inviting us to every dinner and meeting he could devise. It would be worse than staying here and suffering through Fili and Kili’s teasing.” And then realisation struck Bilbo like a hammer to an anvil, “Wait, you’re don’t want to go to the Iron Hills, you just don’t want to have to walk through Mirkwood again!”

Thorin at least had the decency to look bashful, “Well do you?” he asked, his tone reminding Bilbo of the first time they had ventured through the forest. But that had been ages ago, it surely couldn’t still be that bad?

Brushing off Thorin’s concerns, Bilbo said, “I wouldn’t mind seeing what Thranduil has done with the place, he’s said that the spiders aren’t a problem anymore.”

“Yes, he says,” Thorin grumbled, more to himself than to Bilbo, “We could always go around the forest...”

Bilbo stared at him in disbelief, “You do realise that would add weeks to our journey?”

Thorin frowned as he stared back down at the map, “But the distance from here to here looks no different from here to there,” Thorin said as he traced the two different routes with his fingers.

“Thorin to go around Mirkwood we would have to go north then west then many leagues south just to get to the River crossing that will take us back through the mountains,” Bilbo pointed out patiently, “And that’s not even considering the different terrain gradients. Just going North will take us several days looking at those steep sections.”

“How can you tell?” Thorin asked him suddenly, as though finding a flaw in what Bilbo had been saying.

Taking Thorin’s hand in one of his, Bilbo traced Thorin’s finger across the thin lines on the map, “See these lines here, when they get closer together, that means it’s getting steeper... wait, surely after travelling so much, you can read a basic map?” Bilbo asked, not understanding Thorin’s confusion over map reading skills that even a faunt would know.

Thorin’s cheeks reddened, “I may have left such... duties to Balin,” he admitted.

“Well that explains how you managed to get lost on the way to Bag-End,” Bilbo concluded, feeling somewhat relieved that the great mystery had finally been resolved.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew,” Thorin said, flipping his hand so that he could entwine his fingers with Bilbo’s on the table, “How do you think we got here?”

“So Balin led us all the way from the Shire to Erebor?” Bilbo asked sceptically, thinking who was the real ‘leader’ of the company, although he supposed there was more to leading than map-reading... however when you’re on a quest, it certainly did help.

“I helped,” Thorin protested, looking somewhat affronted by Bilbo’s tone and Bilbo decided to soften it a little, but not by much, he’d felt the same when Thorin had mocked his first skills in his first weapons training.

Casting his mind back to the quest, Bilbo couldn’t hold back a small smile, “And it wouldn’t be the time we ended up walking from Bree towards Dunland instead of towards Rivendell that you decided to help?” Yavanna’s plow, he’d thought that Thorin had been intentionally avoiding Rivendell by making a detour. And they would have continued getting lost if Gandalf hadn’t come back from one of his ‘walks’ to point out to them that they should be in a forest by now, not on a hill.

“...  It doesn’t matter,” Thorin said quickly, “So long as we don’t have to go into Thranduil’s kingdom, I would not oppose passing through.”

“That would be terribly bad manners considering you’re the King and we’re using their road,” Bilbo replied, although that had been a victory in itself.

“The Iron hills are lovely this time of year...”

“Fine, you don’t have to go and see Thranduil,” Bilbo conceded, “If I’m honest, I don’t think I trust the company not to do something to the elf at the feast so if we leave the next morning, he’ll probably not be there when we pass through.”

A relieved and amused smile danced at Thorin’s lips- no doubt he was thinking of all the horrors the company could inflict upon the elf during his stay. Bilbo just hoped they realised that whatever they inflicted on Thranduil, he was going to inflict on them three times over; he had warned them after all.

“You have spoken to Dain haven’t you?” he asked, worried that, even with the two seated separately, that they would find some way of getting into a fight. Bilbo couldn’t exactly leave Dís to resolve the mess that had been caused by two idiotic kings. Although, saying that, if anyone could get some sense into their thick skulls, it was Dís.

Thorin nodded and Bilbo could tell from that simple gesture that the conversation hadn’t gone easy, but at least it was out the way.

“We could go to the Blue Mountains after visiting the Shire?” Bilbo offered, guessing Thorin may want to see the place he’d spent the majority of his life once again. “You would be hailed as a hero.”

Thorin snorted, “I am not the hero they think I am. You did most of the work,” he said with a soft smile. Yes, Bilbo did not see Thorin as a hero, he was a dwarf who had done great deeds but for their tale, Bilbo couldn’t say he’d distinguish any singular hero. Bilbo had saved Thorin and the company on multiple occasions but he’d lost count of the multitude of times they had saved him- and not just his life, they’d also saved a part of his being that he’d repressed until meeting them. The Eagles had concluded the battle and yet no-one named them among the war-heroes. Bard had slain the dragon and he would always be the hero of Lake-Town but not to the dwarves who still thought on the issue with the Arkenstone. Bombur had killed the most Orcs during the escape from Mirkwood and no-one had commended his deeds. There had been no singular hero during the quest in Bilbo’s eye. When he looked back, all he saw were 13 bumbling dwarves looking for their lost home who had happened to pick up a hobbit along the way to join their mad adventure. And that’s how he preferred to remember it, without the darkness that he was not ready to cast his mind back onto.

“Only because you’re so good at getting yourself into trouble,” Bilbo said, smiling up at his dwarf.

“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m taking you with me,” Thorin said tenderly and Bilbo was thankful that they were alone; Thorin knew exactly what that voice did to him.

However, he couldn’t hold back a shred of amusement at Thorin’s words, “I bloody well hope so,” Bilbo chuckled, “Who else would you take? Your nephews? Or perhaps our new pet?” he teased.

Thorin chuckled deeply, moving slightly closer to Bilbo, “There’s only one person I want to take with me.”

“And that would be me?” Bilbo said, playing slightly coy.

“Yes,” was all Thorin said, before stealing any more of Bilbo’s words with a tender kiss.

Eventually they finally pulled back to stare back down at the map, although Thorin now had eyes only for Bilbo who he had pulled into his side.

“So how about it?” Bilbo asked.

“How about what?” Thorin said, distracted by Bilbo’s proximity.

Bilbo rolled his eyes, “How about, we run through Mirkwood without anyone being any the wiser. Then we check in on Beorn, although I swear if he still calls me Little Bunny then we’ll be raiding his pantry and leaving there before you can say elevenses.”

Thorin smirked, “You do twitch you nose like a rabbit.”

“... Shut up,” Bilbo irritably.

“You did it again,” Thorin teased.

“Only because you stink,” Bilbo threw back, knowing, even to himself, that his retort was weaker than usual. He blamed it on the kiss they’d shared not moments before.

Thorin pulled back slightly, his eyebrows rising in amusement, “I can-” but Bilbo had already pulled him back, missing the warmth the dwarf offered and the softness of his robes.

“Now where were we...?” Bilbo asked, wishing to get back on topic which was difficult when Thorin’s fingers were stroking small circles onto the top of his hip.

“I believe we were raiding Beorn’s pantry,” Thorin supplied.

“Yes... well after that, it’s just the walk to the mountains then straight through to Rivendell. Then after that we can rest and resupply there before going down to Bree and taking the Brandywine Bridge to the Shire. I’d suggest we spend a week there and I can show you around and introduce you to the rest of my family, who you wanted to meet, let me remind you. And then we can make our way to the Blue Mountains,” Bilbo concluded, feeling strangely tired, as though he’d already walked that great distance.

“I look forward to showing you through the halls of my old home,” Thorin said softly which caused Bilbo to smile.

This honeymoon was shaping to be quite the trip, and whilst Bilbo couldn’t wait for the wedding, he was certainly ready to stretch his legs and go on another adventure.

Chapter Text

They were coming. Bilbo shifted nervously on his feet as they stood in the entrance hall, waiting for the caravans to arrive. Around him stood the company in all its entirety- they’d insisted on coming, even when Bilbo had assured them that it was quite unnecessary, that Thorin, himself and Dís could manage fine. But after hearing Bilbo’s numerous stories about hobbits, the Shire and, most notably, his relatives, they had grown quite curious of what the other hobbits were like if Bilbo was not your ‘typical’ hobbit.

Seeing Bilbo’s discomfort, Thorin took his hand in his, engulfing it entirely. However, it did little to quell the anxiety brewing at the pit of Bilbo’s stomach. Lobelia and Otho were insufferable at the best of times, and now they had just travelled an extremely long way with a company of dwarves, in harsh conditions. Whilst Bilbo would have said they couldn’t get any worse, he wouldn’t put it past them to prove him wrong. Would they dare to be rude in front of a King, no matter if he was a dwarf? Would Thorin be able to reign in his temper should they remark on one of Bilbo’s quirks?

Those were just a couple of the numerous questions which raced through Bilbo’s mind- feeding his anxiety. The only comfort he could take was that Primula and Drogo were coming too, and he knew he could count of them to be their usual pleasant selves. Perhaps their presence may bring calm to the tension that was now going to hang over every ‘family dinner’ and conversation. Oh Yavanna, he was not ready for this.

But ready or not, his family were only seconds away, the sounds of cart wheels and pony hoofs already filtering in through the open gates. At this angle, they couldn’t quite see through them, but he found he didn’t need to as a horn hailed their arrival and the first pony-led carts started entering the hallway.

Giving Bilbo’s hand one final squeeze, Thorin stepped forward to great the head of the caravan. At the front was a hardy looking dwarf, weather-beaten furs draped across his shoulders and leather armour covered his torso. Even with his dirty and torn clothing, Bilbo could tell from the complexity of his braids and the way he held himself, that this must be one of the Lords of the Blue Mountains.

“Hail, King Thorin. A glad day it is to join you in your new Kingdom,” the dwarf said, bowing low, his eyes flickering to Bilbo before falling back on the king.

“I gladly welcome you and your people to Erebor, Lord Icus,” Thorin replied, his voice formal and proper. “My men will see you to your housing and aid you with your baggage,” he said, groups of dwarves already moving forward to lead the ponies to the stables and to take the numerous chest and bags from the carts. Bilbo craned his neck to see the familiar hobbit curls amongst the groups filtering in but he had yet to spot them.

“Thank you, may your beard and reign grow ever longer,” Lord Icus said customarily but then his face morphed into a slightly uncomfortable expression, “Err we have your hobbits too, picked ‘em up in Bree as instructed.”

“My thanks for your assistance in the matter,” Thorin replied, his own eyes wondering in search for Bilbo’s relatives, “I take it you had a pleasant journey?”

Bilbo noted Icus’s wince, ah... “Well... pleasant as I think it was going to be.” Well that was hardly reassuring and Bilbo’s eyes searched frantically for the hobbits but then a shriek filled the air and a dark mass of curls came into view. Found them...

“I’ll allow you to greet your family, my lieges,” Lord Icus bowed to them both before hurrying away, in the opposite direction of the shriek.

His nose twitching nervously, Bilbo retook Thorin’s hand, “Ready to meet your new family?” he asked with a nervous smile.

“Ready as ever, my Halfling,” Thorin replied softly as they began to weave their way through the mass of bodies to find the group of hobbits.

“Get your filthy hands off of my jewellery box,” Lobelia shrieked, wrestling the box of out a flustered looking dwarf who Bilbo recognised as Miko- a young dwarf who Bilbo had been training in the library. Next to the pair was a tired looking Otho, already fed up with his wife.

Taking pity of the dwarf, who looked confused at the aggressive hobbit in front of him, Bilbo cleared his throat to announce their presence. Instantly, all eyes turned on Bilbo and the company who had sneaked up behind him. Fili and Kili’s faces were filled with huge grins and they were snickering at a joke they’d whispered to each other.

“Bilbo!” Lobelia shrieked, her eyes widening as they fell on the hobbit and his fiancé.

“Lobelia, please allow your belongings to be taken care of, they are not stealing them, they are trying to help,” Bilbo said patiently and added when Lobelia continued to clutch her jewellery to her chest, “but if you prefer, you can carry your boxes and cases to your rooms up the 500 steps it would take to get there,” which seemed to settle the dispute as Lobelia reluctantly handed over her box to the relieved looking Miko.

“Lobelia, Otho, allow me to introduce King Thorin Oakenshield, my intended. Thorin, these are my cousins, Lobelia and Otho Sackville-Baggins,” Bilbo said as formally as he was able, waving a hand between the two.

He resisted the urge to grit his teeth as he noticed how Lobelia’s eyes raked Thorin’s form, lingering particularly on his rings and the gems that adorned his buttons. However, her face grew quite pale once she realised just how tall and well... built Thorin was, she would not be stealing anything from this dwarf, of that Bilbo was sure.

“It is a pleasure to have you within my halls,” Thorin said gracefully and Bilbo could have kissed him for his good manners in the face of such irritating hobbits. Although, had Thorin been rude to Lobelia and Otho, he may have kissed him either way.

“Yes...” Lobelia drawled and an awkward silence followed, and Bilbo didn’t think he would be thankful when it was broken by Kili who muscled his way forward with his brother in tow.

“Well aren’t you going to introduce us?” Kili complained, a childish grin spread across his features.

“Ah, yes,” Bilbo replied automatically, “These are Thorin’s nephews and heirs, Fili and Kili. And this is Thorin’s sister, Lady Dís.”

“Welcome to the family,” Fili said cheekily and, going by Lobelia and Otho’s expression as they took in the two princes and the dwarrowdam, Fili could have said ‘welcome to the warg’s den- we like to eat all our guests’ for they looked quite stricken in the realisation that they would soon be related to dwarves.

“Bilbo!” a female voice called and Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Primula and Drogo making their way forward, their faces beaming.

“Primula!” Bilbo said as he let go of Thorin’s hand to embrace the hobbit who hugged him tightly, letting go only to be pulled into another hug from Drogo.

Feeling more relaxed, Bilbo stepped back to introduce his other relatives, “Primula, Drogo, this is my intended, King Thorin Oakenshield and his sister and nephews, Dís, Fili and Kili. And this is Thorin’s company- Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Balin, Dwalin, Oin and Gloin.” The company all bowed slightly at finally having been introduced, their faces amused and curious.

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Primula said genuinely, smiling round at them all, where Lobelia and Otho had scowled and scoffed.

Thorin stepped foward, and Bilbo threw him a glance to say, ‘behave yourself’- he really didn’t want to have four fainting hobbit’s on his hands. “I welcome all of you to Erebor,” Thorin said formally, bowing to Primula and Drogo in greeting.

With his sensitive hobbit hearing, Bilbo heard Lobelia mutter, “We didn’t get a bow...” and Bilbo could only think that she should count herself lucky that Thorin hadn’t decided to knock foreheads with them both which would have definitely knocked them out.

Primula blushed under Thorin’s blue gaze and Bilbo was thankful that she had noted his regality rather than his wealth. But she seemed to snap out of her daze and with a wave of her hand, she said, “Oh no need for that,” and she surprised Thorin by pecking him on either cheek in the traditional way hobbit’s greet family, leaving out only the hug.

“Yes, we’re family now, no need for formalities,” Drogo added and Bilbo’s heart warmed, momentarily forgetting that Lobelia and Otho were only a few paces away, scowling at the scene.

“Why don’t we continue this somewhere more comfortable?” Bilbo inputted.

“Aye, you must be exhausted,” Thorin said with a smile, “Our chambers are closest and then we’ll show you to the rooms you’ll be staying in during your visit.”

“We’ll show you the way!” Kili said earnestly, the two brothers linking their arms through Pimula’s and immediately whisking her off with a baffled Drogo trailing behind them.

“Dwalin, I need to have a word with Thorin for a moment, would you be willing to show my cousins the way?” Bilbo asked the tall guard, suppressing a smug grin.

The dwarf nodded shortly before stepping towards the pair. Any blood that was left in Lobelia’s face promptly drained out of her face as she was finally able to take in Dwalin’s bulging physique and the weapons that were strapped to his back and waist. Otho put his hand protectively on his wife’s arm, as though expecting Dwalin to throw her over his shoulder and carry her like a dead deer. Although, Bilbo secretly wished that he would...

Dwalin just rolled his eyes and said gruffly, “This way,” jerking his head in the direction Primula and Drogo had disappeared and set off after them, forcing Lobelia and Otho into a slight jog to keep up with Dwalin’s lenthy strides.

After a moment of watching the curly heads disappear and the crowds of dwarves bustle by, Thorin moved closer to Bilbo’s elbow. “You didn’t really need to speak to me, did you?” he murmured with an amused glint in his eye.

“Thorin, it hurts me that you would think me so devious,” Bilbo said in mock surprise and astonishment but then he couldn’t hold back his grin anymore and he added, “But no I did not need to speak with you.”

Thorin chuckled, “I thought as much. Shall we?”

Bilbo hummed, “Yes I suppose we must,” he conceded, “Lobelia or Otho might have tripped and fallen on Dwalin in their hurry and I’d be loath to miss that.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Bofur,” Thorin noted.

“I heard tha’,” Bofur said from behind them and the couple turned to face them. “Well I must say, Bilbo, I am slightly disappointed. From your descriptions, I was expecting Smaug re-born.”

Bilbo snorted, “Give her time, she’s not settled in yet. Then you’ll need to lock up your spoons,” and the dwarves smirked at his words, “Now I’m sure you all have better things to be doing that gawking at my family,” he said with a raised eyebrow. As much as he’d love to see how Lobelia and Otho take to the dwarves company in a more refined setting, he wanted to make sure Primula and Drogo didn’t feel completely overwhelmed.

After saying their goodbyes to the company and receiving far too many ‘good lucks’ for Bilbo’s liking, Thorin and Bilbo headed towards the direction of their chambers and Bilbo desperately hoped that Dwalin was not going to be too annoyed with Bilbo after this. Then again, with the wedding so close, Dwalin would have the entirety of the honeymoon to forget his irritation at Bilbo.

As they passed down the corridors, Bilbo thought that it was probably for the best that they’d asked Dain to hold the council meeting with the nobles today. Bilbo was sure that Dain’s... high spirited nature would be too much for even Primula and Drogo who had looked tired despite they enthusiasm and excitement at finally being in Erebor. Dain had been very enthusiastic when Thorin had asked him to stand in for him at the council meeting and Bilbo couldn’t hold back a smile when he thought on what those dusty old nobles must have thought when Dain burst into the room, as dramatic as ever. Bilbo almost wished he could have sat in on that meeting, he doubted the nobles would complain much about his input in meetings after having sat through Dain’s profanity and speeches. Dis and Balin had no doubt, gone to see what damage lay in wait.  

“What has that smile on your face?” Thorin asked him as they passed through the left wing.

Bilbo grinned up at him, “Just thinking on how Dain’s meeting is going.”

“I’m sure he has everything under control,” Thorin snorted.

“Oh I don’t doubt that,” Bilbo assured him, “I’m sure he has them all quivering in their seats.”

“That is if they haven’t already caught their death,” Thorin added and the oddity of the conversation had them both in laughter. Bilbo had no idea why it was so funny, that Dain be so lively and excitable that he has shocked the poor nobles into their graves. Maybe Thorin was right, perhaps he had been spending too much time with Bofur. Regardless, Bilbo cherished these moments with Thorin- that they could laugh over the most stupid things in between the chaos of their lives.

Their laughter died down however, when they finally reached the doors of their chambers and Lobelia, true to her nature, announced her presence with her voice before they saw her.

“What is THAT?!” she screamed and Bilbo and Thorin shared a pained glance before pushing open the heavy doors to finally see what was bothering the hysterical hobbit now.

Bilbo’s face contorted in pain as he realised that Lobelia was stood on their best table, but then his mouth dropped open when he saw what had gotten her so excited. There on the floor was little Thorin, his curly tail wiggling as he stared up at the half-crazed hobbit. Otho, being the blithering idiot that he was, had grabbed a broom and was attempting to shoo the piglet away but Thorin just thought it was all a game and jumped out of the way of the broom, completing a circuit around the table and continuing to gawk up at Lobelia.

Primula, Drogo, Fili and Kili were being very ‘helpful’ by standing and laughing as Thorin squealed and jumped out of Otho’s way.

Dwalin came to stand by the dwarf- Thorin, his face unimpressed by the events, “I’ll leave this to yeh,” he said, giving Thorin a pat on the shoulder before leaving to stand guard on the door. Bilbo couldn’t say he blamed him, chasing after piglets and dealing with insane relatives was not in his job description.

Even Thorin looked entertained by the sight, perhaps his piglet counterpart would grow on him yet.

Taking pity, more on the piglet than Lobelia, Bilbo moved forwards to scoop Thorin up into his arms. “Really, Lobelia it’s just a piglet,” Bilbo placated, shifting the wriggling piglet in his arms so that he could hold him more firmly.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Lobelia squealed, in a way which was bizarrely reminiscent of Thorin the piglet.

“He’s so sweet!” Primula swooned, coming up to scratch Thorin behind the ears. Drogo hung back, smiling at how delighted his wife was over the animal.

“Would you like to hold him?” Bilbo asked, holding Thorin out.

Primula’s eyes lighted up, “Oh please,” she said, taking the piglet into her arms who seemed to settle there quite nicely. Primula sat down on one of the seats, Drogo taking his place next to her as he stroked the piglet curled on her lap.

Lobelia remained on the table, eyeing the piglet nervously.

“We’ll help you down,” Fili and Kili enthused, jumping on the table after her which made her jump as they took her arms and swung her off of the table before she could say so much as a word.

“Fili, Kili, make some tea for our guests,” Thorin ordered smoothly, taking charge of the situation. It wasn’t probably the wisest move, asking his nephews to handle a kettle of boiling water but then it was probably safer than letting them swing Bilbo’s cousin any more.

The pair looked slightly put out at having been ordered away but they just giggled amongst themselves as they moved into the next room to prepare the tea.

The situation having calmed down, the group took their seats. Thorin and Bilbo sat near Primula and Drogo whilst Lobelia and Otho took the furthest seats away they could that would remain to be socially acceptable.

Casting a glance at Thorin, Bilbo could see he’d grown nervous in the face of so many relatives. The King who could face down an entire army of orcs and wargs was daunted by the prospect of small-talk with the people he would be family with in more than sentiment.

Bilbo reached over and laced his fingers, squeezing reassuringly before taking the lead in the conversation, “How is everything back home?” he directed his question at Drogo and Primula whilst Lobelia got her breathing back under control and Otho calmed down from his murderous rampage with the broom, that now lay close at hand.

“Well,” Drogo answered, leaning forward, “The last harvest was a strong one, we should not struggle this winter.” And Bilbo was struck how different his problems had become. Back in the Shire, the greatest worries and concerned revolved around keeping yourself and your family fed, settling the odd skirmish and making sure the wolves did not wonder out of their seclusion in the forest and the mountains. Now in Erebor, Bilbo was forever flitting between council meetings, court, helping in the library and making sure Thorin didn’t overwork himself.

“Oh never-mind about our boring lives,” Primula cut in, “What about you two? You’ve got so much to tell us. Where have you been? How did you meet?”

Bilbo chuckled, “Well, where to begin? I guess it all started with this lump calling me a grocer,” he teased, elbowing Thorin lightly.

“And I have apologised most profusely for the slight,” Thorin grumbled, “I suppose we should tell them about your stay at Beorn’s.” Making a reference to Beorn’s nickname for Bilbo which Bilbo had been hoping to skip over, it was bad enough that the princes had adopted the name, let alone the Shire taking it up too.

“Beorn?” Primula asked, confused.

“A skin-changer,” Bilbo clarified.

“A skin-changer- how frightful,” Lobelia drawled, as though Bilbo was making the whole thing up.

“Oh Beorn’s quite alright,” Bilbo said, forcing himself to remain cheery, “He’s a delight compared with Smaug.”

“The dragon,” Thorin added, before anyone could ask.

“This is shaping to be quite the tale,” Primula remarked with a laugh.

“Aye, but Bilbo began it wrong,” Thorin inputted, “Where it really began was with a hole in which there lived a hobbit...” and between the two of them, they gave the outline of their quest, skipping over a few details here and there and rushing past the gold-sickness. Thorin still felt guilt ridden for what he had done to Bilbo and Bilbo didn’t want Thorin feeling any more uncomfortable than he already did, although he did seem to be taking to the better of his cousins.

In the meantime, there was no sign of tea, however, there was a crash of shattering pottery at one point and Bilbo made a mental note to buy a new set of cups and pot on the morrow.

“You’ve had quite the adventure, cousin,” Drogo concluded, shaking his head in disbelief of all he’d been told.

“We all have,” Bilbo said, giving Thorin’s hand another squeeze.

“Well you have my blessing,” Primula added with a smile, looking between Bilbo and Thorin, “Any dwarf who can make our Bilbo happy and finally get him out of that dusty hole he’d made for himself, is alright by me.”

“And me,” Drogo said, his own face lightening with a smile.

“I thank you both, you shall always be welcome in Erebor, should you be passing this way,” Thorin said with a slight nod of his head in gratitude. And Bilbo couldn’t help but feel immensely proud to call Thorin his own just then.

“So I take it you won’t be coming back to Bag-End?” Lobelia asked, breaking the moment as she often does.

Bilbo looked at her, he’d almost forgot she was there, the pair having not spoken a great deal during the tale, only giving input via looks of disgust and disapproval. “No, Lobelia,” Bilbo said, “Erebor is my home now.” And his words gave cause for Thorin’s face to pull into a beaming smile, Bilbo having never truly acknowledged that yes, he was here to stay, for the entirety of his life with Thorin. “But thank you, Lobelia for reminding me. I almost forgot that I need to pass on my estate.”

That finally drew Lobelia’s and Otho’s interest and they both sat forward, their elbows coming to rest on their knees. Bilbo shot them a wry smile before looking back to Primula and Drogo who were looking somewhat concerned as they noticed the Sackville’s sudden show of life.

“Primula, Drogo, it is my understanding that the two of you have plans of starting a family?” Bilbo asked them.

Primula blinked at him, pausing in her petting of the piglet who had long fallen asleep in the warmth of her lap. “Well, yes, in time we would like to start a family.”

Bilbo’s smile softened, “Then I would be honoured if you finally filled Bag-End with the life it has been missing all these years,” and he noticed Lobelia and Otho sag back into the cushions, disappointment now replacing the expectation on their faces.

“Bilbo, are you sure? Surely, you need to think on this matter,” Drogo said.

“I have thought on it, and I want Bag-End to be filled with laughter once more and with the pitter-patter of tiny feet after this stuffy old bachelor has kept it to himself,” Bilbo insisted.

“Oh Bilbo, this is too much-” Primula started, tears glinting in her eyes.

“Take it,” Bilbo interrupted softly, “As a gift from me to you.”

Overcome with emotion, Primula shifted the piglet onto Drogo’s lap who accepted him gingerly and stood to pull Bilbo into a tight embrace when Bilbo stood with her. From over her shoulder, he could see Lobelia’s face darken considerably and Bilbo wondered whether they would still stay for the wedding. He supposed they would considering that they would need to wait for an escort back to the Shire but Bilbo wouldn’t mind if they didn’t come.

When they pulled out of the embrace, Primula gave him a watery smile before Fili and Kili poked their heads around the door at long last.

“Erm, Bilbo-” Kili started.

“- we’re very sorry but-” Fili added.

“It’s okay, boys. I’ll sort it out,” Bilbo said tiredly, not feeling able to get angry at the pair after the day’s events. “If you would escort my cousins to their chambers so that we can all freshen up before dinner- that would be most helpful.”

“Thanks, Uncle Bilbo!” Fili enthused.

“Come on Auntie Primula-” Kili said, taking one of her arms again.

“- And auntie Lobelia,” Fili smirked, the hobbit looking non-too pleased at having two disaster-prone young dwarves as nephews. And they whisked the four hobbits out of the room, Primula sinking into conversation with the young princes as they exited the room whilst Lobelia and Otho preferred to hold back and follow as they had done with Dwalin.

Welcome silence finally descended on the room, and Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. That had gone better than expected, there was just dinner to get through and then he could finally go to bed with everything set for the wedding.

Feeling exhausted, Bilbo curled back onto the seat next to Thorin, allowing the dwarf to loop his arm around Bilbo’s waist and pull him to his chest.

“What do you think?” Bilbo asked him sleepily, Yavanna knows how he was going to stay awake through dinner at this rate.

“Of what, my Halfling?”

“Them,” Bilbo clarified, too tired to expand more.

“I am glad to have met them,” Thorin said earnestly, “Primula and Drogo are pleasant enough company.”

Bilbo hummed, “I’m sorry about Lobelia and Otho, but I did warn you.”

“You did, and I didn’t listen,” Thorin conceded.

“You never do.”

“I listened to you about the elves,” Thorin returned, his voice slightly hurt.

“Barely,” Bilbo sighed.

Thorin chuckled, “Sleep Bilbo, I will wake you in plenty of time for dinner if your stomach doesn’t that is.”

“Mmm, you better,” he replied, his anxiety of what lay in wait at dinner forgotten in favour of thinking on dinner itself.

And as Bilbo slipped off into blissful unconsciousness, surrounded by the warmth of Thorin’s arms, a deep calm settled over him- one quite unlike that of sleep. It was a feeling of finality, of finally having the pieces in place for what was to come. There would be plenty of time for worrying about the ‘big-day’ in getting the room organised and making sure no-one committed any murders before the wedding, but for now, they could rest. Yavanna above, Bilbo felt that, after the last few weeks, that some rest in all of this had been well earned.

Chapter Text

Bilbo played nervously with the hem of his waistcoat, butterflies danced in his belly and words of Khuzdul streamed through his mind on an endless cycle. The whole ceremony was going to be said and done in Khuzdul, a language that Bilbo had struggled to grasp with its harsher tones and guttural sounds. If he made a single mistake on any syllable then Bilbo may go from promising his love and faithfulness to saying, in a polite tone, that he would forever care for Thorin’s corpse. It had happened quite a few times when they’d been practicing but, as Bilbo had protested many times, it was not his fault that the words for love and corpse were so similar!

He took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. In just a few hours, he would be married to Thorin. It almost didn’t seem real- he would have thought that after the past year of courting and planning that he would have gotten used to the idea, but now that the day had come, it felt surreal. And yet that didn’t stop him from fretting about all that was to come. What if he slipped up on his vows? What if he tripped when walking to meet Thorin? What if the dwarves and elves started fighting? What if... what if... what if...

The tension that had grown in the mountain since Thranduil and his son’s arrival had not abated despite Bilbo’s best efforts. It hadn’t helped when Thranduil had arrived on his elk and asked for him to be taken to the stables, letting slip that his name was ‘Thorind’ which had caused great amusement from the company as well as anyone within earshot, thinking that the King had not only had a piglet named after him but also an Elk as well. Thranduil’s face had reddened and he’d fiercely defended that Thorind was Sindarin for ‘leaping heart’ which only caused the company to laugh harder. However, Thorin had stopped laughing after being repeatedly asked by his nephews when his heart had ‘leapt’ for Bilbo and when his antlers were in season. And in the end, everyone had stopped laughing because Fili and Kili had been assigned to mucking the stables and to making sure the Elk was well stocked on carrots for the duration of their stay. And the company had stopped laughing after Bilbo had reminded them what would happen to them should anything untoward happen to the elves.

Still... that was no guarantee and Bilbo just wanted this day to go by without any need for bickering or worse. It was bad enough that Kili had started mooning after one of Thranduil’s guards, a scene that even Thorin, with his excellent observational skills, couldn’t miss, thus ultimately sending the King into a foul mood which had darkened many of the days leading up to this moment.

But now that moment was here and soon Bilbo and Thorin would be leaving the mountain, away from politics and the tension which lay inside.

“Bilbo, are you finished?” Primula called from behind the door, making Bilbo jump. He’d been so lost in thought that he’d completely forgotten that his family was waiting next door and that he should be getting ready.

Willing his hands not to shake, Bilbo called back, “O-one minute,” but Primula wretched the doors open anyway and slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

“Prim!” Bilbo protested, scrambling to fasten the buttons of his waistcoat- this was hardly proper!

She just raised her eyebrows at him and moved to fasten his buttons for him when his hands proved too shaky to manage the last.

“Stop it,” she said firmly, smoothing the wrinkles out of his waistcoat.

“What?” he asked confused- he wasn’t doing anything!

“Worrying! I know that look Bilbo Baggins and I want you going into that room looking like it’s the happiest day of your life.”

“But it is the happiest day of my life,” Bilbo said defensively.

“That’s the spirit,” Primula breathed, helping him into his overcoat. “Now, let’s have a look at you,” she said, stepping back to check for any creases or flecks of dust.

Bilbo rocked back on his heels awkwardly, his nerves abating slightly when a smile spread across Primula’s face and tears glinted in her eyes.

“You do know if you start crying, I’ll start crying?” Bilbo said, forcing his eyes to remain clear. He did not want to go into this looking like he’d been crying, Thorin would think something was wrong and then he’d spend the ceremony trying to smooth the worry out of Thorin’s brow.

Primula nodded frantically as she hastily wiped her eyes, sniffing, “Oh just ignore me, this day is about two people, and I am not one of them,” she smiled shakily before neatening Bilbo’s curls.

“Hey,” Bilbo said softly and then drew her into a quick hug to stop her mothering. After his parents had died, Primula had taken him under her wing and made sure that no-one had taken Bag-End from him, defending his ability to manage the estate even if he wasn’t of age. It shocked Bilbo to remember that Primula was a few years younger than him when she acted so much older.

The hug had the desired effect and Primula was calmer after they’d moved apart. “Ready?”

Bilbo nodded, “I think so.”

Keeping his head high and his shoulders back, Bilbo pushed open the door to greet the rest of his waiting family. Drogo grinned as soon as he saw him and moved forward to clasp his shoulder affectionately, his eyes filled with emotion.

Lobelia and Otho, hung back, nodding out their courtesies. But Primula was having none of that.

“Doesn’t Bilbo look handsome?” she asked pointedly, her eyes hardening as she dared them to disagree.

Lobelia blinked, pulling her face into a sickly sweet smile, “Lovely,” she drawled and her husband nodded in agreement. Neither of them had been particularly forgiving after Bilbo had given Bag-End to Primula and Drogo, but Bilbo found that he couldn’t care less. Thorin had wanted them here, not him. Just so long as they behaved and kept their mouths shut, they could think what they wanted to.

“Well, we best be off then,” Drogo announced.

Bilbo whipped his head round, “Is it that time already?” he asked, panic setting in once more.

Drogo nodded, “You’ve been in there ages, we didn’t think you were coming out!”

“Of course, we didn’t think you were having cold feet,” Primula assured him, “Unless you are?” she added, worried.

“No!” Bilbo protested, he wanted to be married to Thorin, of that he was sure. And he certainly didn’t go through this whole planning fiasco to run away at the last minute. The thought of Thorin’s face should he not turn up was enough to assure him that he never wanted to see that look ever again, not after Thorin had looked so defeated and broken when he’d found out about Bilbo’s betrayal. But that was in the past, the future was all that was worth thinking about. His future with Thorin...

“Let’s go,” he said assuredly, ready to march out of that door but then a hand on his arm stayed him.

“I need to get the crown!” Primula said and she rushed off to the opposite side of the room to grab the satin cushion, atop which sat the flower-crown Bilbo had woven for Thorin. Delphiniums for possibility, Bell Flowers for Unchanging love, purple Carnations for enduring love and, of course, forget-me-knots were just some of the flowers which had filled out the crown. In the end, Bilbo had been quite proud of his work and he hoped that Thorin wouldn’t mind the break in tradition. Usually, it was just the consort that was crowned, with the King already having been coronated.

Ok... Primula was carrying the crown with Drogo beside her. Then Lobelia and Otho were coming behind as additional witnesses. Everything was set.

Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, Bilbo opened the door and walked out of the room. The hallways were quiet, the guards having been asked to keep these paths clear for the wedding. The whole kingdom had been growing more excited by the day for this wedding and Bilbo did not think he would have made it if he’d had to walk through crowds of cheering dwarves.

The walk helped to calm his nerves and settle the butterflies still in his belly. However, when they came to the door which led to the ceremonial chamber, his nerves were back again. He could hear the voices through the door, laughs and cries as the guests talked amongst themselves while they waited for him to arrive. It took a small poke from Primula to remind him of what he needed to do next.

Gulping, Bilbo raised his fist and gave the door three sharp knocks, after which silence descended around them, the voices hushing.

Entirely too soon for Bilbo to find his courage, the doors swung open and all eyes turned to him. The faces of dwarves filled his vision, their presence dominating the large room and filling Bilbo with anxiety. Should he slip up, all of these people would know. There would be no forgetting.

The sounds of heavy boots beating against the ground reminded him that he should probably be walking by now and he hastily stepped forward, walking down the narrow aisleway towards the raised platform in front of him. Bilbo couldn’t see Thorin yet, he was on the opposite side of the platform, walking towards him as Bilbo was currently doing. The familiar sounds of his boots allowed a smile to spread across Bilbo’s face and it took all his self control to stop himself from running up those steps to see his dwarf.

As he passed each dwarf on his left and right, they bowed their heads, their beaming smiles nearly lost in the thickness of their beards. Most he did not recognise, there had been many guests from Dain’s company that Bilbo had yet to meet and many dwarves from the Blue Mountains that Bilbo had failed to acquaint himself with- their status and position being their only cause for invitation.

Many, however he did recognise. He recognised those he’d invited from the library and those who sat on the council. And there, stood at the front with all the nobles, was Thranduil, his son Legolas and many of his guard, including Tauriel. The dwarves behind them were not best pleased to have been placed behind an elf that blocked much of the view of the ceremony but, much to Bilbo’s confusion, many of them seemed to be giggling to themselves. Oh no...

Looking up to the back of Thranduils crown, Bilbo could see a carrot leaf, complete with a carrot end, hanging from one of its spines. He forced his smile not to slip as Thranduil gracefully turned his head to watch as Bilbo approached the steps. Next to Thranduil, was Bard and his family. Bard was almost unrecognisable from when Bilbo had first seen him, his clothing and manner having become more refined but still remaining simple enough. Bilbo knew Bard struggled as much as he did when they were treated like royalty, their backgrounds having been so much simpler than where they were now... now that Bilbo was about to marry a King.

Bilbo was forced to pause when he came to the first step and he strained his ears for any sign of Thorin. Silence.

After three counts, Bilbo took the first step, then the second and he lifted his head to catch the first sight of Thorin coming into view. Bilbo managed to keep his feet steady as his eyes met Thorin’s and all at once, no other eyes in the room mattered but his. He only took the briefest moment to take in Thorin’s clothing, his rich robes flowing around him and only adding to his regality. But then Thorin smiled ever so shyly and Bilbo couldn’t help but return it, feeling more peaceful than he had done in months.

Behind Thorin, came Fili and Kili, Fili being the one to bear Bilbo’s crown as Thorin’s eldest heir. And behind his nephews came Dís and Balin, Thorin’s witnesses.

Coming to the final step, Bilbo made sure to keep his pace measured and controlled as he walked to meet Thorin in the middle of the platform. Their witnesses stayed a step down and their crown-bearers just a couple of paces behind them.

Without hesitation, Thorin held out his hands and Bilbo slipped his into them, allowing the warmth and comfort they offered to wash over him, reflecting in the smile he now wore. They waited whilst the dwarves assembled around them so that they could take their vows. Six dwarves were needed for the ceremony, one each to represent one of the first fathers, not including Thorin who, as King, represented the line of Durin by default. Not being able to choose family, they had asked Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori and Ori to say the vows of the seven fathers with Dwalin, Oin, Gloin and Dain standing on one of the steps as Thorin’s extended family.

“Okay?” Thorin whispered, for only him to hear.

Unable to say a word, Bilbo nodded shakily and Thorin’s answering smile was worth the long journey here in itself.

Dori was the first to step forward, reciting in Khuzdul he said clearly, “I Dori, represent the line of the Broadbeams. Do you both promise to share your homes with one another- to live and breathe under the same roof for as long as you may live?”

“I promise,” they both replied and Thorin squeezed his hand gently, letting him know that he hadn’t faltered.

Nori was the next, “I Nori, represent the line of the Firebeards. Do you both promise to share your warmth, your light, your hearth?”  

“I promise.”

Ori spoke, “I Ori, represent the line of the Stonefoots. Do you both promise to walk each path your lives may take, side by side, for the rest of your days?”

“I promise.”

“I Bofur, represent the line of the Blacklocks. Do you both promise to share in each other’s darkness, to share in each other’s perils and to not lose sight of one another?”

“I promise,” the words now coming easy and without thought.

“I Bifur, represent the line of the Ironfists. Do you both promise to fight against all those who oppose you, to never willingly allow harm to come to one another?”

“I promise,” their voices only growing more sure and confident.

“And I Bombur, represent the Stiffbeards. Do you both promise care for one another, in body, in spirit and in this life and the next?”

“I promise.” And Bilbo almost sagged in relief, but the firm grip of Thorin’s hands stayed him for he knew this was not over yet.

Dori stepped forward again, “Then you may exchange crowns.”

With reluctance, Bilbo allowed Thorin’s hands to slip out of his grip so that Thorin could get his crown. When Thorin turned to face him, Bilbo took a deep breath before slipping down onto one knee, bowing his head to allow Thorin to place the crown atop his curls. The mithril flowers scratched pleasantly against his scalp as he stood, lifting his head to find Thorin’s eyes again. Bilbo had never seen Thorin look so... emotional, his eyes were alive as they gazed down at Bilbo with pride and he recited, “I give you this crown, to show that I wish you to stay by my side always, as my equal for all my days and beyond.”

It was incredibly difficult for Bilbo to stop himself from kissing Thorin right then and there, but he forced himself to turn away and gently lift the flower-crown from its bed, giving Primula and Drogo a smile as he did so before turning back to Thorin.

Mimicking Bilbo’s actions from before, Thorin sunk down on one knee and Bilbo faltered on his way to delivering the crown. Seeing Thorin as vulnerable as he did, his emotions open and his head bowed, was enough for Bilbo to pause for a heartbeat, before placing the crown on Thorin’s head, not allowing a single flower to crumple. As Thorin, came to stand, he decided to start reciting before his words could be taken from him, “I give you this crown, to show that I will always stand by your side, and love you in all the ways I can.” Relief flooded through him- judging by the heartbreaking expression across Thorin’s face, he had not stumbled.

He barely heard the words, “You both now stand, joined as consort and King under the eyes of Mahal and Yavanna,” before Thorin had closed that short distance between them, pulling him close as he pressed a tender kiss to Bilbo’s waiting lips. Cheers and clapping thundered around them but Bilbo took no notice, he was far more concerned with cradling Thorin’s cheeks in his hands as he responded in kind.

As they pulled apart, Thorin kissed his brow one last time before linking their fingers together. Bilbo clung on tight to Thorin’s hands, a tear threatening to spill over his cheek as he committed the sight of Thorin to memory- the sight of Thorin as now his husband and he his consort.

Chapter Text

After the kiss, it all became something of a daze for Bilbo as he received many hugs off of the company and his family, all the while trying to tell dwarves that- no, they could not give him a head-butt, even if it was the customary way to congratulate newly wedded couples. Dain had settled for giving him a rib-cracking hug instead so Bilbo had been thankful when Thorin had pulled Dain away to receive his own congratulation, clasping shoulders and bashing their foreheads together.

However, as soon as Dain had let him go, Bilbo had been swept up by a beaming Fili and Kili who were singing in a delirious sing-song, ‘Uncle Bilbo, Uncle Bilbo’ as they compressed the poor hobbit between them. And for once, Bilbo found himself unable to correct them- now, at last, he could say that he was Fili and Kili’s Uncle. But not only that, he was now part of the whole Durin family, that meant that he was even related to Balin and Dwalin! Oh he couldn’t wait to tell Lobelia that the very dwarf who had been assigned to ‘guard’ her and Otho (more watch that they didn’t find themselves in Thorin’s treasure hoard) was now a relative of theirs. In fact, he may be tempted to reveal said fact when he next visited the Shire, he doubted whether anyone had actually stopped to consider that all the Baggins family was now tied to a dwarven one.

As for Thorin, Bilbo had never seen him look so happy as he bathed in the attention of all his company and family, giving him numerous head-butts that would have had Bilbo concerned if he had not seen the display countless times before. After Dís had finished giving him a (thankfully far gentler) hug, Bilbo found himself watching Thorin as he stood surrounded by his kin.

But then Thorin caught Bilbo’s eye and he held out his hand which Bilbo gladly took, having regretted letting it go in the first place.

“Ready to go?” Thorin murmured next to his ear, having to bend low to speak over the raucous cheering. Bilbo nodded his assent, not trusting his voice quite yet, he was still overwhelmed by the fact that he was now Thorin’s husband.

With Thorin leading down the steps and towards the corridor which would lead to the banquet hall, Bilbo received many pats and well-wishes off of the dwarves that lined their path. Most obviously was Thranduil and his kin, looking out of place and whilst Legolas and Tauriel looked shocked at the volume of noise the dwarves were making, Thranduil looked not at all surprised and Bilbo guessed he must be used to this by now, even if he still didn’t particularly enjoy it. Bilbo promised to himself that he would try and talk to them later, and try and get that carrot off of Thranduil’s crown, that was if one of his kin hadn’t already moved the offending vegetable.

Looking farther afield, Bilbo saw Bard looking quite concerned as his children sped off towards the young princes, having failed to call them back or reign them back in before they were out of ear-shot. Well at least his children were enjoying themselves, Bilbo guessed Bard would too once he’d had a pint of Ale, or three. He dearly hoped that that the volume of Ale that was likely to consumed this night was not going to be enough to intoxicate half of Erebor, he really didn’t want Dís to be faced with an army of hung-over dwarves when they left- they were bad enough when they were sober!

Something he was quickly reminded of when they finally exited the hall and was assaulted by hundreds of clapping and cheering dwarves, all who had gathered to catch a glimpse of the new Royal couple. However, it wasn’t the noise that became an issue, far from it. It was the fact that, someone, and Bilbo would skin them alive if he knew it was, had started up a verse of ‘The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins’ as it had been called.

Of course, Thorin looked mightily pleased with himself, as though he’d planned the whole ordeal... wait, he hadn’t had he?

Managing to raise his voice about the line, ‘He’s only three feet tall!’, Bilbo asked, “You wouldn’t have anything to do with this would you?”

Thorin grinned down at him, “Of course not, my dear burglar. Although I may have made a comment at public court the other day, saying how much we’d appreciated the dwarven bards, even if we hadn’t used one.”

“Anything else?”

“... I may have also said we appreciated the song pertaining to your heroic deeds,” he admitted, showing little remorse despite Bilbo’s pout.

Bilbo rolled his eyes, “We will be having words Thorin Oakenshield. But in the mean time, lead on, I’m starving after all of that!” Yes, Bilbo had been looking forward to marrying Thorin, but his stomach had had other intentions and was looking forward to its fill of various dwarven dishes.

In response, Thorin just laughed and continued to pull Bilbo through the crowd until they finally came to the banquet hall. Many of the guests had already found their way there and were seated patiently, however they brightened when they saw Bilbo and Thorin entered, erupting in even more shouts and cheers. Although, Bilbo couldn’t be sure whether it was because they were happy for them or because their coming meant that dinner would soon be served... their early arrival did suggest that they may have been edging towards the latter option.

Bilbo had little time to dwell on the intentions of his guest, because before long, Bilbo had found their seats at the head table and the rest of their guests took their places around them. The exact planning on seating arrangements had had to be extensively thought out between Bilbo, Thorin, Balin and Dís to ensure that everyone was seated with their family and friends and far enough away from anyone who may cause an argument or offence.

In the end, they’d seated all the nobles together, at the opposite end of the room to the elves or to any dwarves that could be deemed ‘excitable’ by dwarvish standards. Really, they just made sure Dain was nowhere near them after he’d nearly given five of them heart-attacks and the rest of them aneurisms; they had never forgiven Dain for his version of a council meeting which had had far too much cursing and happiness for their liking. 

At the head table, Bilbo and Thorin were to be sat in the middle with their family either side. Originally, they were going to have Bilbo and Thorin’s family on opposite sides but then Bilbo had enjoyed the notion of Dain sat between Lobelia and Primula too amusing to pass up. Whilst Dain, Primula and Drogo got on like a smial on fire, Lobelia and Otho had unsurprisingly, failed to warm to the cheery dwarf who was far too towards the edge of eccentric and mad for their liking. Dain, on the other hand, found them fascinating and was constantly peppering them with questions about hobbit feet and why hobbit families were so large. Primula was greatly enjoying passing those awkward questions onto Lobelia who she had claimed was an ‘expert’ on all things that a hobbit is and ‘should’ be.

In addition, Bilbo had thought it be best if Dain, Fili and Kili did not sit next to each other. The combination of Dain’s loud mouth and Fili and Kili’s mischief would have been enough to end the wedding feast with too many unforgettable moments that Bilbo would dearly wish to be forgotten. No, Fili and Kili were sat under the stern gaze of their mother who was to Thorin’s right. Balin and Dwalin had also been given seats at the table whereas the rest of the company had decided to sit on a table close by, close enough to be heard but hopefully not close enough to give Bilbo grim flash-backs to the first night they’d stayed in his smial and had eaten all his food!

Speaking of food, Bilbo was pleased to see that dishes were quickly being placed around the tables, everything that he’d organised present and correct.

As a joint of beef was placed at their table, Thorin bent his head close to Bilbo saying, “I see you did not lie regarding the ‘alternative’ menu.”

Bilbo snorted, “Well it would have hardly been romantic if you and the rest of your kin had been retching on caviar for the entirety of the evening.”

“Your kin too,” Thorin pointed out with a smile, ignoring the bitter reminder of his distaste for fish.

“Don’t remind me,” Bilbo joked, giving Thorin a chaste kiss before turning his attention to more important matters-like dinner.

Thankfully, as Bilbo tucked into the many courses that had been laid out for them, he couldn’t help but notice how civilised everyone was behaving. There was laughter and joy to be sure but there wasn’t any food flying through the air, no belching competitions and certainly no brawls between the elves, dwarves and men. The elves looked especially surprised by the amount of salad and greens that had been placed before them, Bilbo having made sure that they would not be forced to eat dwarvish food if they didn’t want to. However, every time a dwarf near to Thranduil made any violent movement with his hand, the Elven-King did shirk away from any risk of food splatter onto his fine robes in a fashion that was quite unlike him.

After they had had their fill of main courses, they moved onto dessert, and Bilbo was glad to see that carrot cake had not been forgotten, although he did notice that it did go neglected on the tables were it had been scattered around. Bilbo had hoped to sway the dwarves to his style of eating, but it seemed they were far more content to stick with sponge and chocolate cake. Fili and Kili especially had chocolate cake all around their mouths which Dís kept scrubbing off of their beards, receiving many complaints of ‘Mom’.

They seemed to take after their uncle in that respect, since Thorin had pointedly ignored the carrot cake in favour of filling his plate with a slice of chocolate cake.

Feeling bold, Bilbo speared a piece of carrot cake on the end of his fork and nudged Thorin to get his attention, not that he had to go far out of his way to do so, Thorin had hardly kept his eyes off of Bilbo all evening.

The smile slipped off of Thorin’s face once he saw what Bilbo was offering him, “Haven’t I suffered enough from your cooking, Ghivashel?” Thorin said, not keeping his mouth open for longer than necessary, as though Bilbo was going to try and force-feed the dwarf at his own wedding!

Bilbo was in such a good mood that he could hardly find himself to be insulted by the slight to his cooking. “Come on, Thorin. If the kingdom sees you eating carrot cake, who knows, the recipe might actually take off!”

“Or they’ll refuse to let me back when we return after I’ve made all of Erebor sick,” Thorin countered but after having looked at Bilbo’s adorable pout too long, he obediently opened his mouth for the hobbit to put in the tiny piece of cake.

Bilbo smirked, “I think I could live with that,” as Thorin cautiously began to chew away. If they were refused back into Erebor because of his culinary choices... well, he would just take Thorin back to the Shire where his cooking could be appreciated and where he could continue to spoil Thorin no end.

He watched as Thorin’s face pulled into a slight frown as he chewed through the cake and swallowed. Well he hadn’t immediately shot over for a glass of water of a tankard of Ale, which he’d seen many dwarves do as they dared each other to sample the strange new food item placed at their table.

“That was...” Thorin started, but then he managed a small smile, “surprisingly okay.”

Not quite believing it after Bilbo had witnessed Thorin’s acting skills first-hand, he replied, “You’re not just saying that to-”

However, Thorin cut him off, “Bilbo, if I truly detested carrot cake so much, would I do this?” he asked, stealing another cut piece of carrot cake off of Bilbo plate.

“Oi that was mine!” Bilbo protested with a grin, stealing some chocolate cake off of Thorin’s plate in turn.

“Mine now,” Thorin replied through a mouthful of cake, causing them both to break down into quiet laughter. Careful not to mess Thorin’s flower crown, Bilbo pulled Thorin down for a quick kiss, getting a few crumbs off of Thorin’s lips when one of Thorin’s lips came between his.

Perhaps it would not have been so quick had it not been for someone standing in front of their table, audibly clearing their throat. Even with the interruption, Bilbo couldn’t help but share one last smile with Thorin before twisting back into his seat to find the disapproving face of Thranduil and his son bearing down on him. Looking around for the captain of his guard, Bilbo noticed she’d long gone to sit with the company and their families, having decided that the aloofness found at the elves’ table was not for her.

Behind Thranduil, Bilbo could see that Bard and his three children were also waiting patiently for their audience with the couple.

His face maintaining its slightly bored expression, Thranduil said dryly, “We apologise for missing the gift-giving ceremony,” however, he didn’t seem at all sorry and Bilbo slipped his hand under the table to grip Thorin’s, hoping to remind him to respond in a manner that would be suited to a King and not to a child. “For you both, I have a gift of seeds from the great Mallorn trees whose leaves shine golden and whose boughs will grow silver. We hope that they will remind you that not all gold is found within stone, it is also found within the world beyond your mountain halls.” Next to him, Legolas gave his father a relieved look, and Bilbo wondered whether his son had been behind the choice of gift.

Bilbo had heard of the golden trees of Lothlórien from his books and from his conversations with the elves and he had longed to see the legendary Mallorn trees. Saving Thorin from the effort of pretending to be happy that Thranduil was here, Bilbo said graciously, “We thank you for this most generous gift, King Thranduil and Prince Legolas. We will indeed look to these trees and be reminded, not only of the many forms of gold, but also of the friendship between our races.”

Thranduil gave Bilbo a graceful nod off his head before turning away to return to his table with his son, throwing Tauriel a final disapproving glance as she was handed a pint of Ale by one of the two princes, who had decided to emigrate to the company’s table to join in their merriment as dinner came to a close.

Next came Bard and his children, who all bowed or curtsied before approaching the couple.

Keeping his hands on the younger two of his children’s shoulders, Bard spoke, “On behalf of the people of Dale, I offer you our congratulations in light of this happy occasion.”

“Thank you, Bard,” Bilbo replied, not feeling the need for formalities when he knew Bard still struggled to take the title of ‘King’. “We are glad that you could join us here today.”

Bard nodded, “I do not have rich gifts to offer you both. But I do have this,” he waved and his eldest son brought forward a long and heavy box which seemed to be made of oaken wood. Releasing Thorin’s hand, Bilbo leant forward to undo the clasps on either end of the box, opening the lid to reveal the black arrow inside.

“Is this...?” Bilbo asked, hoping that this wasn’t the same arrow used to kill Smaug-he really didn’t want that stench in his chambers.

Bard shook his head, “No, this is first black arrow to be forged since the days of my ancestor, Girion. I offer it in remembrance of the alliance we have and in the knowledge that, should ill times befall us again, that men and dwarves can stand beside one another once more.”

Thorin was the first to answer this time, “We thank you for this gift, King Bard,” Thorin said graciously, inclining his head.

The king of Dale bowed shortly in response and was about to turn away when one his children’s hands caught his shirt. Tilda asked, “Ada, can we go and sit over there now?” pointing towards the table where the company were sat, now falling about in raucous laughter from a joke Fili had told.

A torn expression crossed Bard’s face as he glanced around at the numerous faces that filled the table. Bilbo couldn’t exactly blame him for being apprehensive about letting his children join the company; after all, the last time they had all been together was shortly after they had all climbed out of their toilet!

“I assure you Bard, the company are under strict instructions to behave themselves,” Bilbo said wryly which drew a smirk from the man.

“Fine, off you go,” Bard sighed and his children wasted no time running off to sit with the dwarves who made room on the benches for the three excited children. With a final nod, Bard turned to join Thranduil at his table, engaging the stoic elf into deep conversation.

Bilbo grinned up at Thorin, “See, that wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Thorin hummed, “It wasn’t entirely unpleasant seeing that elf under false courtesy,” he admitted, “I still wished you had let Nori take him into the lower halls and leave him.”

 “I won’t have Thranduil and his kin fighting off dwarven merchants and wading through the long halls where we stable the mounts,” Bilbo said sincerely, “Not after you got your way with my family.”

Speaking of which, Primula, Drogo, Lobelia and Otho had made their way around the table to present their gifts that Bilbo could say he was intrigued to find. Primula and Drogo were the first to step forward whilst Lobelia and Otho were busy avoiding eye-contact with anybody within the room.

“We’re so happy for you both,” Primula gushed, her cheeks slightly pink from the Ale she’d been drinking, “And whilst we will dearly miss you in the Shire Bilbo, I know now that you are in good hands,” she said, winking at Thorin. “But just so you don’t forget us entirely and so you don’t feel homesick, Drogo painted this picture of the Shire for you.” Taking his cue, Drogo took from behind his back a small oil painting of the Shire, laying it out on the table for the couple to study.

Seeing it sent a pang of longing through Bilbo. Whilst he could say he was completely content and happy at having Thorin with him in the mountain, he did miss his old home sometimes.

“And for you Thorin, we didn’t know what to get you since we don’t know any Kings... or any dwarves for that matter, but I know that you’ll be visiting the Shire soon and we would offer our hospitality for at least one night of your stay,” Primula said tentatively, looking between Bilbo and Thorin.

“I would be honoured to sit under your roof,” Thorin replied, a tad too formally but then that was just Thorin being Thorin.

“Aye, we’ll have to see whether our Prim can teach you how to cook for our Bilbo,” Drogo said with a smile and Bilbo resisted the urge to laugh at what must now be flying through Thorin’s mind. Thorin was not the best chef, and that was putting it lightly. Primula would need all the patience she had to teach him and all her focus if he was not to burn her smial down, since they would be using Bag-End only after Bilbo and Thorin had left to travel to the Blue Mountains.

“An excellent idea,” Bilbo agreed, smiling at the King who now, to Bilbo’s eye, had a slightly forced smile on his face. “I look forward to it.”

“Us too,” Primula finished before coming back round the table to take back their seats. As they sat, Bilbo leaned over to peck Primula’s cheek before cautiously looking over to see what in Yavanna’s good earth the Sackville’s had dug up for them.

Lobelia’s face pulled up into a sickly sweet smile as she and, a rather bored looking, Otho stepped forward with a bundle in their arms. “Congratulations to you both,” Lobelia drawled, with the same tone that could be used when describing how dreary the weather had become. Next to her, Otho muttered his own congratulations and Bilbo forced himself to smile as pleasantly as he was able when Lobelia passed him the bundle which he unwrapped.

Inside of it was a collection of enamelled cutlery which was incredibly ornate in its design, but also incredibly familiar...  The cheek of it! They’d given him back his own cutlery at his wedding that he’d forgotten he’d even owned! At least she’d returned them, but Bilbo didn’t quite believe that returning stolen goods constituted as an appropriate wedding gift.

Seeing the look that passed over Bilbo’s face, Thorin answered shortly, “Thank you to you both,” which gave them the necessary excuse to dash off back to the safety of their seats.

“What’s wrong?” Thorin murmured, bending his head close to Bilbo’s.

“They used to be mine!” Bilbo said in a furious whisper, “They must have stolen them whilst I was away.”

A thoughtful expression crossed Thorin’s face and he said with a smirk, “Worry not, ghivashel. I’ll ask Dain to show them how to ride his boar.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but return Thorin’s grin after that, the image of Lobelia clinging for her life on top of Chopper’s back was one he really wanted to see happen. Before he could properly thank Thorin for the excellent notion, the chamber suddenly erupted into cries of ‘Speech, speech!” and Bilbo looked around to realise that all the dwarves had long finished eating and had been waiting patiently for the final gifts to be given.

Nerves immediately set back in when Bilbo remembered the speech he was to give. Oh Yavanna, he really hadn’t been looking forward to this!

Thankfully, since Thorin was King, he’d be the first to give his speech and after hearing what Thorin had to say, Bilbo may find the courage he was looking for to give his speech. However, he was incredibly nervous to hear what Thorin had to say, words were not his strong suit after all.

Giving Bilbo a gentle smile, Thorin got to his feet and immediately the hall fell silent, having seen their King stand before them.

Clearing his throat, Thorin gazed around the room before starting with confidence that Bilbo could be envious of, “I thank you all for coming here today and sharing with us, the happiness of the occasion of our marriage.” Good start, Bilbo supposed, that would certainly placate the nobles. “In particular, I would like to thank my company for without whom, I would not have made it this far,” to which he received much cheering from the company’s table.

“He’d still be pinin’ if we hadn’ pushed him out the door!” Bofur shouted up which drew out many laughs around the hall.

Thorin nodded his head in acknowledgement, keeping himself as formal and proper as ever under the laughter which slowly died down. “But most of all, I would like to thank my Bilbo, for without whom, I would still be the bitter shell of the dwarf I was,” he said turning his eyes to Bilbo, “Bilbo, I know not how to put into words everything that I love about you, for the most important things about you I love are not things at all but rather the light that you bring to my life.” The love and adoration that filled Thorin’s eyes rooted Bilbo to his spot, immobilising him under their intense yet honest gaze. Oh Eru, Thorin better not reduce him to a blathering mess before they’d even gotten to his own speech!

Not breaking his gaze, Thorin continued, “I will forever be amazed by you- that you gave up your books and your armchair to come on a mad venture to reclaim a home for a group of rude strangers that you did not owe a thing. And most of all that you taught me the value of home above gold, and that the world could be a merrier place if more people were as incredible as you are.”

Well that was that, Bilbo didn’t want to hear another soppy word from that dwarf’s mouth or else he may just burst into awful tears. Startling the dwarf, Bilbo jumped to his feet and pulled the dwarf into a chaste kiss, not caring about the fact they had an audience. They could all go to Valinor for all Bilbo cared; he just needed to shut this dwarf up before he completely wrecked his emotions!

The kiss had a cheerful reception, many dwarves clapping, cheering or cat-calling. However, at the edges of Bilbo’s awareness for what was happening around them, Bilbo could have sworn he heard someone shout to them to ‘just skip to the wedding night why don’t they?’ which Bilbo could only assume was from Fili or Kili, the two prince’s still not enjoying whatever they considered to be remotely ‘mushy’ between their Uncles.

Breaking off the kiss, Bilbo put a hand on Thorin’s shoulder to indicate for him to sit down so that he may have centre stage.

“Thorin Oakenshield, I know we have had our ups and downs. Really, after you called me a grocer at our first meeting, I would never have imagined standing here today,” he said smiling down at the dwarf who’s ears had turned red under from the kiss and at having been reminded of their less than romantic first meeting. “And I can’t say from there it got much better. You led me through such perils that I had to save you from, from trolls, to orcs and to spiders; you really have a knack for making a hobbit work hard. And then to top it all off, you had to go and get stabbed and leave me to clear you up!” Bilbo said in mock horror and to stave the worry off of Thorin’s brow, he added, “But as much as I want to kill you myself half of the time, I am glad to have shared in your perils Thorin, each and every one of them. For within each of them, I was with you, and I would share them with you a thousand ages over.”

As his short speech came to a close, thus ending the speeches from the wedded couple, all the guests clambered to their feet to cheer the couple on as they embraced in another kiss. Bilbo dimly wondered whether the dwarves’ voices were getting hoarse yet from all this shouting when Thorin pulled back to press their foreheads together, “Thank you,” he said brokenly and Bilbo gave him a final kiss before saying, “None needed.”

They smiled giddily at each other for a moment, losing themselves in the moment before the first chords of the orchestra were sounded. The end of the speeches had hailed the start of the first dance and Thorin gave Bilbo a worried smile before allowing Bilbo to lead him to the far side of the hall which had been left clear for the orchestra and for the dancing.

Coming to the centre of the floor, Bilbo and Thorin took up their positions, counting the beats within the music for when they should start dancing. Smiling wryly, Bilbo stood on his tip-toes to peck Thorin’s lips before murmuring, “remember?” and Thorin gave him a shaky nod in response, still overcome by the number of kisses he was being bestowed this evening and by his slight nerves in having to do something that he’d been so fearful of.

Now, Thorin would be dancing in full robes and with his boots on. Bilbo’s toes tingled in the memory of the sheer number of times Thorin had stepped on them when practicing but he focussed on Thorin’s face and not his frightened toes.

“Just follow me,” Bilbo whispered as the orchestra hit its note and Bilbo and Thorin were sent whirling around the dance-floor. Bilbo sent a silent prayer to Yavanna and all the Valar when Thorin successfully completed the first cycle without injuring them both and without looking remotely murderous or blanked out as he had done when they’d first started dancing all those weeks ago.

Once the guests had assessed that it was indeed safe to join the couple of the dance floor, having judged Thorin’s dancing skills to having been much improved his early dancing years which many dwarves in Erebor had not so easily forgotten, many other couples joined them, the crowd splitting off into pairs.

However, they had not been dancing long when a guard burst into the hall and immediately made his way towards Thorin and Bilbo who had stopped dancing to assess the situation cautiously. Oh no... Bilbo thought, fear pulling at his chest- what had happened now? Everything had been going so well...

The guard came to a halt before them, bowing low before saying, “My apologies on interrupting the dance, my King. However I have been sent to fetch you both by a man who was quite insistent that you meet him now on the ramparts.”

“Who is it?” Thorin asked urgently, irritation flickering in his eyes.

“I-I’m afraid he asked me to keep that confidential sire,” the guard replied. Confidential? Who was so important that they could ask one of Thorin’s own men to keep information secret? Bilbo hoped this wasn’t Saruman paying a visit, Gandalf had told him of the wizards attempt to stop the quest and Bilbo really didn’t fancy meeting him on his wedding day thank you very much!

But then realisation dawned on Bilbo and suppressing a grin, he grasped Thorin’s hand in his and said, “Come on, I know who it is,” tugging the dwarf towards the corridor which would lead to the ramparts. The company followed after them, the other guests having chosen to ignore the disturbance and carrying dancing and drinking or to simply stare after the pair with vague concern.

“Who?” Thorin asked him as he allowed Bilbo to pull him along, bewildered by what had suddenly gotten into his hobbit.

Bilbo ignored him, favouring to pull the dwarf along and keep him in the dark until they managed to clamber up the steps to the ramparts to witness the display in front of them. Instead of stars, the sky was alight with fireworks which shot and exploded in the air, raining sparks down towards the ground in a gorgeous display. When Bilbo, Thorin and the company had finally made their way over to the edge of the ramparts, the sky fell still and Bilbo worried that they’d missed the display, but then a singular rocket whizzed into the air and as it exploded it split off into several branches, which in turn, split into more and more branches. On it went until the form of an Oak tree sparkled above them, dissipating into a shower of green sparks which looked suspiciously like oak leaves.

“You didn’t think I’d miss your wedding now did you?” a voice called from behind them.

Not releasing his hold on Thorin’s warm hand, Bilbo turned to find Gandalf standing behind them, smiling fondly down at the pair. “Gandalf!” Bilbo gasped, “You’re late! You missed the ceremony and most of the feast,” Bilbo pointed out.

Gandalf chuckled, “A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to!” Of course, Gandalf had an answer to everything that Bilbo said.

To that, Bilbo could only laugh and move forward to hug the wizard before he could move off to greet the rest of the company who were still watching the firework display with rapt attention. Even Dwalin, who was never really impressed with anything beyond battle prowess, looked in awe when a rocket exploded and morphed into the shape of an Eagle which swooped before exploding in a shower of red sparks.

As Bilbo stood there, watching the display with his husband by his side, a deep sense of fulfilment passed through him (although that may have just been the asparagus he’d eaten earlier) at having finally achieved what had taken months of planning. In the end, it hadn’t mattered that not everything had been perfect, for that feat would have been difficult to achieve at the best of times. What had mattered was the end goal- and that was having finally gotten married to the giant lug-head of a dwarf who had lost interest in the display to watch the light of the fireworks dance in Bilbo’s eyes.

Looking away from the display, Bilbo took Thorin’s hand and grinning, he said, “Hows about we leave them to it and end the night elsewhere?” Bilbo quite believed that they had stayed at the feast long enough for them to not be missed, the dwarves should be far too intoxicated by now to miss just a hobbit and a dwarf.

“My burglar, you read my mind,” Thorin replied, and like a giggling pair of thieves in the night, they sneaked off down a corridor, leaving the festivities behind them and looking forward to spending some time with just each other, where they didn’t have to worry about courtesies or nobles. They could leave their crowns behind them and just be Bilbo and Thorin for one night before they could embark on a new adventure!

However, as much as Bilbo and Thorin tried to be discreet, their disappearance did not go unnoticed.

Thranduil had settled for moving to the edges of the hall when the dwarves had settled into merry drinking and dancing. This hadn’t been as bad as he thought this was going to be, he supposed. This event had been quite tame for the other weddings he’d been too and he couldn’t say he was sorry. It was bad enough that he’d had to go to this event and put on this facade of happiness that he thought he’d managed to pull off.

And really, he shouldn’t have been at all surprised when Bofur and the company ran into the hall shouting, “They’ve gone!” the dwarves immediately erupting in cheers. They seemed to cheer at just about anything... Thranduil noted without humour. What little humour he had left was promptly quelled when the dwarves decided to pull in even more barrels of Ale and start trying to throw handfuls of food into each other’s waiting mouths.

Thranduil blanched when what appeared to be a lump of carrot cake sailed through the air and landed too close to his feet for comfort. The dwarves’ ability to aim had diminished somewhat under the headiness of all that drinking. Why was it that all dwarven weddings must end in such a disastrous way?

Having decided that he’d sooner marry a dwarf himself than stay here a moment longer, Thranduil cast his eyes around looking for his son so that he could announce their leaving. And all thought of taking his son with him promptly disappeared when he saw that Legolas had a tankard of ale in one hand and was using the other to throw food at the dwarven princes, laughing as he did so!

Clenching his fists in having seen his son behave in such a manner, Thranduil glared at everyone in the room before turning tail and exiting the hall. He wasn’t going to stand there and join in with such ridiculous antics! No, he would go and get Thorind and go home to Mirkwood where he could enjoy his solitude. He’d had quite enough of dwarves for a lifetime!

However, as he rounded the corner to enter the stables were Thorind was being kept, he was forced to stop dead in his tracks. There, in Thorind’s stable, with said Elk was Dain’s bloody boar!

He gaped when Thorind gracefully raised his head from where it had been resting on Chopper’s back to blink at Thranduil as if to say, ‘Do you mind?’

This was too much, way too much, Thranduil decided as he backed out of the stable. Forget all this, he’d walk home! He just needed to get away from all things dwarven and dwarven weddings were the bottom of his list of places he wanted to be right now.

He didn’t care what Bilbo or Legolas or anyone said- there was no way that a dwarven wedding could be in any way, perfect!