Archive of Our Own ^beta

   Bilbo and Thorin both breathed soft sighs of relief when Bag End finally came into view, the sight more welcome than they ever could have realized. After nearly two years spent away from their beautiful home, they felt almost like crying at the thought they could sleep, finally, in their own bed. Fortinbras had, of course, looked like he had seen a ghost when Thorin and Bilbo had arrived at the door to his home, looking a bit haggard and with a few scars they had not had when they left, but they were alive and whole and Adalgrim had demanded a party when he’d learned of their survival.

   “No,” Bilbo stated firmly. And hadn’t that caused quite the reaction, the Shire unused to such firm statements. “I am going home, with my husband, and we are sleeping for the next month straight. If anyone disturbs us, I now know how to use this.” When he’d brought out Sting, even the Tooks had looked like they might faint right where they stood! “I will see you in a month.”

   With that, Bilbo had calmly exited the Great Smials with his grinning husband in tow and headed towards Bag End. They deserved rest and calm after their ordeal.

   Bilbo paused in front of the green door that still had Gandalf’s blasted rune on it, drinking it in. He only unlocked the door when Thorin gently took his other hand and squeezed, reminding the hobbit that he was not alone. With a watery smile, Bilbo pushed their door open and the couple stepped inside.

   “Oh!” Bilbo gasped. “Looks like they’ve kept the place clean!” For not a speck of dust could be seen in the house, and all traces of the twelve dwarrow who had come barreling into their life one late night were gone.

   “Do you want to unpack in the bedroom while I get the food put away?” Thorin asked with a tired smile, indicating the meals they had been sent on their way with by the Tooks.

   Bilbo nodded, reaching up to press a kiss to Thorin’s rugged cheek. “We’re going to need to get your clothes tailored,” the hobbit muttered as he dragged their packs to the bedroom. Thorin glanced down at himself, suddenly aware of the muscle mass he had gained since they had left. He was once again a trained warrior, and though he felt little need to stay as such, a large part of him knew that he would keep up with his exercises and swordplay. Apparently, you never knew when it might come in handy.

   “You think anyone kept up the forge?” Thorin called as he puttered about the kitchen, getting the oven ready to heat up a casserole someone had shoved in his hands at some point. It looked to be chicken and beans, and wouldn’t that be a treat?

   “Honestly?” Bilbo called back. “They probably fixed the house for you! You know they’ve been threatening to fix it for years!”

   Thorin huffed, a bit put out even if he knew it was most likely true. “You know I’m perfectly capable of it, now!”

   “And they don’t! We didn’t even mention your memories are back. It will be hilarious when they find out just who you are!”

   “You know I’m not king anymore, Bilbo,” Thorin warned loudly.

   “Ex-king and yet still a prince!” Bilbo chortled. “Your sister sits on the throne of Erebor, Thorin, you’re still royalty!”

   “And we’re in the Shire now! It’s not like being dwarven royalty has any effect on us here!”

   Bilbo poked his head into the kitchen, and impish grin on his face. “Yeah, but boy will it piss Lobelia off.”

   Thorin turned to frown disapprovingly at his husband, though he couldn’t help the snort that forced its way past his barriers at the thought of Lobelia finding out he, and by extension Bilbo, was royalty. Bilbo just stuck his tongue out at Thorin before retreating back to their bedroom to finish unpacking. Shaking his head at his hobbit’s antics, Thorin finally put the casserole in the oven to heat up.

   “I’m going to take a quick bath!” Bilbo shouted from further into the house. The idea of a bath filled Thorin with longing, but he knew better than to get between Bilbo and luxurious hot water at the moment. The pipes in Erebor had all been burst when they’d arrived, and it would be years before all the infrastructure would be fit for proper use again. So, they’d had to trek down to the communal washrooms to bathe, since it had been the first area to have its pipes fixed, and even then the water had been chilled. While they’d gotten to enjoy hot water at their various stops between Erebor and the Shire on their way back, nothing was quite as appealing as their own copper bathtub at home.

-

   Bilbo sighed softly as he carefully covered the seed with soil, Thorin stood right beside him with a comforting hand resting on the hobbit’s shoulder. He was so worried…

   “What if it doesn’t take?” Bilbo asked softly.

   “It will,” Thorin spoke just as soft as he finally knelt in the dirt with Bilbo. He began to gently place gems and stones of every shape and color in a tight circle around the seed, digging them firmly into the dirt. “You just need to have faith, love.”

   Bilbo leaned heavily against his husband and closed his eyes, unable to stop the fear that gathered in his breast. But once he was done, Thorin wrapped a solid arm around him, pulling the hobbit firmly against him, and Bilbo couldn’t help the way his body relaxed against his dwarf. It was oh so natural at this point, he didn’t bother to fight it.

   “We still haven’t discussed names,” Bilbo noted in a subdued voice.

   “We still have time,” Thorin pointed out with a quiet chuckle.

   “Do you want a girl or a boy?”

   “Any child born of our seed will be my greatest treasure, no matter their gender.”

   Bilbo nodded, a smile pulling his lips up gently. They sat like that for some time, not saying anything in the darkening evening, just watching the little patch of soil that they had poured all their hopes and love into. Perhaps, soon, a plant would grow, tall and strong, and give them a gift they so desperately desired.

-

   They had planted their seed in early spring, like any good gardener would. And their efforts saw fruition quickly, a little green sprig popping out of the ground not a week after the seed had been planted. The good news was spread all over the Shire by the little faunts who came by near every day, eager to see their new playmate bloom.

   “Oh, I’m so glad!” Magnolia sobbed on their doorstep, strawberry and cream cake shaking in her hands. Thorin and Bilbo had been quick to usher her inside, Thorin taking the cake from her so Bilbo could thank her with a laugh and attempt to calm the hobbitess down.

   “About time,” Adalgrim said with a hearty grin, handing Thorin a book called ‘So You Married a Took and had a Faunt’, which he claimed had been passed down through generations of those who had married into the Took family, and that there was a companion to it called ‘So You Married a Brandybuck and had a Faunt’.

   Bilbo had temperamentally reminded Ad that Bilbo was only half Took. Adalgrim had laughed uproariously at that and claimed that since Bilbo had gone off on an adventure, the Took half had obviously won, making the book necessary.

   “Granny Baggins made me,” Otho grumbled when he dropped off a veritable dragon-hoard of hand-made baby items. “She and her knitting group decided that since Belladonna passed, you needed all the motherly help you could get.”

   “She also made Thorin some new waistcoats!” Falco called as he poked his head around their dour cousin.

   “Said since he’s outgrown his old ones,” Odo added with a soft smile, looking around the other side of Otho.

   Bilbo had just laughed and divested all his Baggins cousins of their gifts and invited them in for tea, as was customary. All but Otho had readily agreed.

   “I would be remiss in my duties as Thain were I not to bring flowers to welcome the newest addition,” Fortinbras said with a hefty sigh the next day when Thorin opened the door. “Expect more.” He’d handed the bouquet of myrtle and marjoram to the dwarf and promptly walked away, muttering about how he didn’t need to be the one to come all this way.

   And, indeed, Fortinbras had been correct.

   Flower wreaths of white hyacinth, lily-of-the-shire, holly, lilac, calla lily, basil, all sorts showed up day after day, obviously praying for this or that for the new babe.

   However…

   As the days turned to weeks turned to months, their little sprout did not grow. It did not shrivel, either, it just did not grow.

   “Do you think we’ve done something wrong?” Bilbo asked softly one night as they sat careful guard over their little garden. “I’ve never heard of such a thing happening…”

   The wreaths slowly withered and died and the well-wishers stopping coming. Rumors were spread that the odd Baggins’ were just unlucky, that they had a curse placed on them, that Yavanna was torturing the couple for daring to plant a mixed seed…

   “It will bloom, Bilbo, I know it in my heart,” Thorin had whispered to his husband as they lay curled up in bed.

   Their sprig stayed just as it was through spring, past summer, and late into autumn. Bilbo had a panic attack the morning he had awoken to find an inch of snow on the ground, sobbing as Thorin rushed to make sure their little planting was still there.

   When Thorin didn’t return, Bilbo finally pulled himself together and staggered outside, turning around the corner to see his husband blankly staring at the…

   “Did it grow?” Bilbo asked loudly, disbelievingly.

   “Yup,” Thorin wondered at the leaves that had now sprouted on the much taller sprig.

   “I’m not… I’ve never heard of this,” Bilbo walked forward and promptly sat in the snow, not caring if he was getting wet. Thorin did the same thing beside him, eyes never leaving their little bud.

   “It’s like… a little snowdrop,” Thorin whispered reverently.

   “Snowdrop…” Bilbo breathed, an adoring smile slowly tipping his lips up. “Don’t you think that would be a lovely name for a girl?”

   Startled, Thorin looked at Bilbo, and, upon noticing the smile his husband wore, murmured a soft, “It would be a perfect name.”

-

   So it was that Snowdrop Thutrel Baggins was born to the world in 1344 S.R., to adoring parents Bilbo and Thorin Oakenshield Baggins. Signs were posted outside Bag End thanking those who had kept the little family in their hearts, and that she would be introduced to the Shire once the last ice had thawed.

-

   “She’s a wonder,” Thorin rumbled as he spun their little girl around. She squealed brightly as her adad twirled her about, wide, toothless smile a charming sight.

   “You’re going to make her throw up on you again,” Bilbo warned with a laugh from where he was waiting for the pie to finish in the oven.

   “Well worth you smile, my thatrulkhud,” Thorin proclaimed, though he did stop spinning and instead pulled his daughter close to his chest to cuddle. She babbled at him in nonsense at that, though Bilbo was thrilled to watch Thorin act like every noise made complete sense. He always knew his dwarf would make a wonderful father.

   Snowdrop was a unique being. There had never been any like her in written record, so her life would be a complete mystery, and Bilbo couldn’t help but be glad for it. Of course, there was one thing he could be certain of: boys would be fighting for her hand when she came of age. Snowdrop had been born with blazing blue eyes and curls the color of mithril (Bilbo had squealed that they were just like the dignified streaks in his husbands hair), skin as pale as moonlight and feet with the most perfect of curls.

   Thorin had been disappointed when they had realized her ears were rounded like his, but Bilbo put that to rest quickly when he had scolded his dwarf for thinking any part of him was lacking. Bilbo happened to find his round ears absolutely adorable, and they were even cuter on their daughter!

   They didn’t yet know if Snowdrop would grow a beard, but Thorin did not care one way or the other. As long as she was pleased with her appearance, nothing else mattered.

   They had sent the proclamation of their daughters birth to Erebor the very day she was born, both a bit too excited to hold back. They had gotten a response two weeks later that… hadn’t really been decodable. Too many splotches of ink and hurried writing and Bilbo was fairly sure that multiple writers had written over each other. But at least it meant their friends were excited!

   They probably should have tried harder to figure out what the message said, because three months later a caravan had arrived in the Shire and little Hamfast Gamgee had come to the door of Bag End stuttering and stumbling over his words, pointing to the procession that was coming toward the home.

   “Dwarf,” Hamfast gasped. “Elf. Lots!”

   “What?” Bilbo muttered as he stepped out the door and past the poor hobbit, Snowdrop safely napping against his chest.

   And…

   “Thorin, your entire family is here and I might kill them!” Bilbo hollered. Somewhere inside Bag End he heard something break and dearly hoped it was replaceable. Then thundering footsteps and Thorin was throwing himself out the door beside his husband, taking in those coming up the lane towards them.

   “I…” Thorin quickly went quiet, not quite understanding what he was seeing. It seemed as if every dwarf and elf to the east of the Shire had banded together in one long train to, presumably, come to meet the newest addition to the Baggins family.