Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was much to learn when you knew nothing. This was not simply a philosophical discussion that Bungo Baggins enjoyed holding, but the genuine truth of the matter. Holm literally knew nothing. Well…not nothing…but he certainly didn't remember anything from the time before he woke up in a beautiful labyrinth of a home, being cared for by the master and mistress of, what Holm would later learn was called, Bag End.

This had all been five years ago when he was found beaten and bruised, propped up against a Holm Oak tree off the road between Michel Delving and Waymoot. Bungo had been returning home to Hobbiton after a less than pleasant meeting of the main clans of the Shire, when he stumbled upon the poor dwarf. He didn't hesitate to approach the poor fellow, taking in the sight of his head wound, and disheveled appearance. Anything but the lightest layer of his clothes had been stolen off his person…including the braids from his hair, Bungo assumed, as it looked as if someone had taken a knife to his long, black locks, and sliced them from his head, leaving him for dead.

"How about…Holm? That was the kind of tree I found you under…You'd have a rather nasty sunburn if it weren't for the oak's leaves shielding you! It was a rather hot day…" He smiled at the groggy dwarf, patting a cool, damp cloth at his forehead, happy to see the dwarf looking more lively than he had the other days since he'd brought him back to his smilax.

"Holm? Sounds…good." The dwarf nodded, tentatively accepting the new name…just until he remembered his real name.

But there had been nothing on Holmes person to give any indication as to who he was. Bungo had been tempted to send word to Bree or to the Blue Mountains if he could, asking if anyone was missing a dwarf…but when he asked Holm if he'd like that, the dwarf looked uncertain. "What if…what if the people who did this to me catch word that I did not die? I…I'd rather not lose my memory again…or worse, my life this time…" He said one day over lunch, grateful that Belladonna finally started giving him smaller portions of their seven meals a day.

"But what if we maybe find your family?" She suggested, knowing how crippling uncertainty can be, but she hated seeing the dwarf so lost.

"Perhaps…but…Lady Baggins-"

"Belladonna," She corrected quickly, wagging her spoon at him before she continued eating.

"Belladonna…what if…what if I should have died? What if I am not a good person? If…if word is sent out that I lived…I…I am unsure I wish to know who I was. I know I am a dwarf…I know I am proud of that. I need nothing else." Holm spoke softly, poking at his potatoes rather melancholic sigh.

"Well…we won't push…you're welcome to be with us for as long as you want…Bag End has been lonely without Bilbo here, so we're grateful for the company." Bungo smiled, patting Holmes hand reassuringly.

That was that.

It took a few months to recover from his injuries completely, and after a year of living in Bag End, he insisted he find a job to pay back their generosity. Though they insisted it was not necessary, he insisted that it was.

It didn't take long for Holm to find where he was most comfortable working- the long abandoned Hobbiton smithy.

Most hobbits took their repairs either to Bywater, or Michel Delving if they needed something more complicated to be crafted or fixed. Holm felt drawn to the boarded up building, and, unsurprisingly , Bungo told him it was one of his many properties, and opened it up for the curious dwarf. It was a wonderful thing to witness, Bella would later tell Holm. To see a soul who'd been so lost and so uneasy …to see him pick up a simple hammer and look more self assured than he had in a year. It was heartwarming.

"Do you know how to use it?" Bella asked excitedly, though did her best to not sound too enthusiastic, as after raising her son Bilbo, she knew all too well how someone's excitement can actually be discouraging. She held her breath as she waited for her answer.

"I'm a blacksmith…" Holm smiled tenderly, looking around the smithy, his blue eyes shining as he regained something of himself for the first time in a year.

They waisted no time in getting Holm set up, and as soon as the forge was operational once more, he had customrs lined up, all eager to have a dwarven smith in Hobbiton of all places. No longer would they need to travel or send their belongings off elsewhere, but could stay in the comfort of their little town.

Holm was happy. He'd smile and wave, and did his best to act according to the ways of hobbits, even though Belladonna made sure he knew he didn't need to push himself to do so. But he reminded her, that he knew nothing of his own customs…so it was hardly pushing himself.

He did grow his hair back out, as it simply felt right to do so…but he did keep his beard trimmed. It didn't necessarily feel right to do so…honestly, for Holm, it felt almost as if it were a sign of repentance. A compulsion to strip his honor away from himself for the crimes he'd committed in his life he did not remember.

"Next week?" Bungo sighed in disappointment as he and Holm sat across from one another at the Green Dragon one evening.

"Yes. Next week I'll be leaving for Frogmorton. The blacksmith there, Branson Bumblefoot…he told me he has a large order he'd need some assistance with. I'm caught up on all my orders, so I figured there is no harm in me closing shop for a little bit to help him out. Is…is something wrong with that?" Holm asked nervously, suddenly afraid he'd committed some odd taboo by agreeing to this.

"No! It's all fine and dandy…It's simply that Bilbo is coming home for a few days! Bella and I were hoping you could finally meet him." He explained as he took a long sip from his mug of mead, enjoying it more than the ale. Bungo, like his son apparently, preferred the sweeter things, where Belladonna preferred more earthy and bitter tastes.

"Oh…Well…perhaps I can meet him another time? I'm sure we'll meet eventually! Besides…I'm just a blacksmith. He probably has no interest in meeting me." He shrugged, but he understood why his friend, for he could happily call Belladonna and Bungo his friends now, wanted him to meet their son. The two were very proud of Bilbo, and simply wished to prove to Holm that their bragging was all very honest and true. 'It's not bragging if its true' Belladonna would sing whenever Holm playfully accused her of bragging about Bilbo being 'simply the best hobbit of his generation'. Which would be quite a feat if it were true, seeing as each generation of hobbits was rather…populated.

"Yes, yes…I suppose you're right. I'd still like for you to meet…" He sighed.

Yet despite how terribly they wanted to introduce Bilbo to Holm, each time Bilbo returned from Tukburrow, their paths were never to cross. The next time it happened, Holm had promised to do some repairs to Old Lady Mistle (she insisted she loved her nickname, and insisted he call her by that) smilax,as she was too old to travel to Hobbiton, and what needed repairing was too big to bring anyways.

Holm had broadened his business from fixing and crafting farming equipment, and started making house-calls, as he could do the job twice as good as any three hobbits could in half the amount of time. At first, he'd been worried he was taking work from someone else, but the hobbits who would have been helping folk like Old Lady Mistle told him that less work simply meant more time to enjoy themselves and their hobbies, so there were no hard feelings.

The next time Bilbo returned to Bag End, Holm had gone to Longbottom to do some repairs for the Old Toby farm, where the Hornblowers kept him there for several months with the multitude of repairs they needed that they hadn't ever bothered to fix until it was too late. Belladonna had told her son it was because of Holm he was able to have Old Toby at all, as according to Holmes letters 'all their equipment is a mess. Even a simple hoe can hardly work…how they've been working like this, I've no idea…'.

But this was simply how it went for five years. In that time, Holm had enjoyed himself. He'd learned much about the Shire, and every day he grew more and more thankful to have chosen to stay. There was always a nagging feeling that perhaps he was simply running away…what if he was an upstanding Dwarf who was in the wrong place at the wrong time? What if he had a family who missed him? Who needed him? A wife and children who longed to see him again?

But he would always push such thoughts to the side, because Holm was positive he'd never felt such happiness in his life…even if he didn't remember it. And as Bungo always insisted, Holm deserved to be happy. This was, of course, a tenet that Hobbits took very seriously. Holm appreciated this, and as he'd told Bella all those years ago, he'd do his best to live the way hobbits did.

"Holm! You are not to leave Hobbiton for the next three months, understood?" Belladonna ordered as she walked into his smithy, and handed him some hand pies while he took his unexpected break to chat with her.

"Why not? Not that I was planning on it…" Holm asked, taking a bite and sighing as the heavenly taste of venison filled his mouth.

"Because! Bilbo's birthday is on the twenty-second of September and he will be having a party of special magnificence! You will meet our son, and I will not take no for an answer!" She grinned, slamming her hand on the counter between them, daring Holm to defy her will.

Holm knew that to be the stupidest thing to do, and didn't even try to do so jokingly. He simply nodded.

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded quickly, finishing the hand pie right as she handed him another.

"Good. Typically coming-of-age parties are only for family, close friends, and potential marriage candidates…but you are as good as our family, I'd say, and Bilbo has already agreed to let you come. It'll be wonderful!" She giggled gleefully.

"Coming-of-age?" Holm asked, tilting his head to the side as he squinted at her, the same tone in his voice and look in his eyes whenever he remembered something, and Bella waited patiently for Holm to chase the loose memory. "…He…He is sixty-five?" He asked, furrowing his brow, knowing that can't be right, as Bella isn't even sixty-five yet.

She snorted, wiping her mouth quickly as she nearly spat out her food at the thought of her son being older than her, knowing he'd grow up to be just like Bungo.

"Oh goodness no! He's turning thirty-three, not sixty-five." She corrected, and Holm nodded thoughtfully.

"So he's…he's of battle ready age then?" He asked next, knowing again that no hobbit was ever 'battle ready'.

"Most definitely not. He's simply of age. I take it you dwarves have different 'ages' then?" She asked, never pressuring Holm to remember things despite her aching curiosity.

"Yes…I think we do. I…I recall that…when you're thirty, you're battle ready…I think it means that you're old enough to carry a sword and wear armor…but I don't think it's the same as your thirty. A-and then when you're forty we stop aging as quickly….Sixty five…that's when we reach adulthood." He spoke slowly and carefully, looking at his hands as if he was calculating something.

"So…any idea how old you might be, then?" She asked, burning with curiosity.

"…I think…I'm past sixty-five…" He replied with some thought.

"Five hundred?" She offered excitedly.

"Hardly…we're not elves. dwarves don't live that long…Unless you're Durin himself…and even then." He rolled his eyes before pausing, the two of them pleasantly surprised at the new memory that so easily rolled off his tongue. "dwarves reach old age when they're two-hundred and fifty…I…I am not that old…I'm somewhere in between." He decided.

"Perhaps you're….eighty then? A hundred? One-twenty?" She offered, and it all suddenly became quite overwhelming. Holding up his hands, he silently asked her to hold her questions for now.

"However old I am…I am old enough to know I've got work to do, and I cannot spend my entire day eating lunch with my friend."

"You're far too responsible for your own good," She grumbled playfully before giving him one last hand pie, and waving goodbye. "We'll see you on Trewsday for supper and dinner, yes?" She asked, quickly popping her head in the doorway before truly leaving.

"Yes. And I'll see you for tea on Sterday and Heavensday, just as we have for four years." He grinned, not upset in the slightest that Bella and Bungo felt compelled to remind him of their group meals despite the time that has passed.

As Bilbo's party grew closer, Holm offered his services however he could to his friends, knowing they were quite overwhelmed with all the preparations. Apparently, it was to be the biggest coming-of-age party Hobbiton has seen since Bungo's own, and it'd be even bigger than that. Holm managed to bully his friends into giving him something to do to take the load off their shoulders, and so while they worked on the many invitations, each hand written by the two parents, Holm went out and did their shopping for the week, picking up their groceries and supplies they needed.

"Did you hear that Desi Proudfoot presented?" Holm overheard two young lasses gossiping. Glancing over curiously, he saw it was Lily Boffin and Daisy Bracegurdle, and they were very aware others could hear them.

"He presented?" Gasped Lily in disbelief. "Say it isn't so! My little cousin Marigold was quite keen on him…" She sighed dramatically.

"It's true! I heard it from Jasmine Brandybuck when she was visiting my cousins here…she said that according to her brother, he smelled like the best thing he'd ever smelled in his life! I bet you all my buttons that Syd Brandybuck and Desi Proudfoot are married by the years end!" Daisy giggled as Lily playfully swatted at her, squealing in delight at the gossip.

Holm was used to gossip. It was a Shire pass-time, and he couldn't fault them for it…for even if he didn't participate in it, he did enjoy eavesdropping on it all. Hobbits had a tendency to say 'if it isn't for me to know, then why did my ears hear it?', and he couldn't help but agree. As he finished purchasing food for the Baggins family, he couldn't help but ruminate about what the girls had been gossipping about exactly.

"What does it mean if someone has 'presented' exactly?" He'd asked his friends when they all sat together for tea after he put away their groceries.

Bungo had spat out the drink at the question, choking for a moment, while Belladonna snorted some tea out her nose, and moaned in discomfort as she blew her nose. Holm had never seen such a reaction from them when they were sober, and especially not with hot tea. He grabbed them both fresh handkerchiefs and apologized for springing such a question on them, but he truly had no idea why it evoked such a reaction.

"S-sorry, Holm…It's just a question I never thought I'd be asked!" She laughed breathlessly, patting Bungo's arm as she saw how awkward he'd gotten at the question. Flustered, Bungo excused himself, needing to change clothes before they stained. Bella, on the other hand, didn't care about that.

"It isn't spoken about so openly," Bella began after Holm explained where he heard the word. "Not often at least…it is seen as something rather taboo to speak about. We know of it, we do not judge someone who has presented, for it's a natural thing…but it is personal." She began, and wondered if dwarves also had such a thing, and Holm simply didn't remember.

"Essentially, it means that a young man has become a 'bearer' as we say. Discussing someone presenting as one is as rude as discussing a lady's menstruation cycle." She said plainly, not embarrassed to speak of either presenting or a lady's cycle, as she was Belladonna Took, and nothing phased her (as she said). "There are some lads who, typically during their mid tweens, present…meaning that their bodies have…adjusted itself to carry offspring like a lass's. There are even some lasses who present to be a 'sire'…which is to say, that she'd be able to…well…father a child. But like I said, it's less common than a bearing lad. Even so, most bearing lads still marry and have children with bearing lasses." She explained carefully, knowing , as she knew men folk didn't have such things and would be disturbed to hear about a man who could carry a child. But men were rather judgmental, and they judge hobbits for being shorter than them, so why wouldn't they judge that as well.

"…O-oh…well, that's certainly not what I expected it to mean. The Boffin girl said that…the one who presented…that he apparently smelled nice…and that he'd probably be married by the end of the year?" He said awkwardly, trying to remember what was said exactly.

"Ah…Well…oftentimes when you're near the one who is most compatible with you, you can smell them…" Bella said simply. "Hobbits have very keen noses, very…and when someone presents, their scent is often even stronger than normal, at least for a few days. If someone said that this lad smelled nice, and that he'd be married by the end of the year, then I suppose that means that he had found his mate. Though, I will say, that term is quite out of fashion, at least in Hobbiton, as many thinks it sounds a little to animalistic." She said as she rolled her eyes and sipped her tea.

"I see." Holm nodded, even though he very much did not see, but the topic was rather fantastical and hard to believe, but he knew Belladonna would never lead him astray on a matter like this, even as a jest.

Bungo eventually came back into the room when he could be assured the conversation was over, and Holm apologized for startling him so, only to awkwardly change the topic for the hobbit's sake.

"E-enjoying the weather?" He asked, earning a slap on his arm from Belladonna.

The weather was, in fact, very enjoyable the weeks and days leading up to Bilbo Baggins's birthday. He would be arriving at Bag End two days before his party, and apparently intended on sleeping until the very last minute when he'd have to be a good host and give a speech. Bungo had worked diligently on the speech, as Bilbo had told him he wanted no part of it, more interested in the drinks that would be served during the festivities than his own participation in his party.

Holm was busy with setting up the many posts that would hold up lights, as he was the only one that could simply lift a log with his own two hands. He helped pitch the many tents, and set up the many tables according to Bungo's instructions, ensuring his friend's hard work paid off. Finally, Holm helped set up the stage where the band would be playing, and where Bilbo would give his (Bungo's) speech.

Once Holmes work was done, Belladonna fussed over him, demanding he take some time to rest from his hard work, and to take a good bath for he smelled sweatier than he did in his smithy.

"The sun does not shine into my smithy…I prefer working in the dark." He explained, feeling satisfied and tired as he wiped his brow of sweat.

"Well, after your bath, make sure to pull that mane of yours back. Any younger Took cousins of mine are going to see it and want to braid it or stick flowers in it…" She warned, and Holm swallowed hard as he thought of strangers touching or trying to braid his hair.

One of his first memories was that a dwarf's hair was sacred. He might not remember why, but he knew it was the truth, and that only he was allowed to touch his hair. On the rare occasion, Bella and Bungo had been allowed, as Holm saw them as family. But it was a rare occasion simply because Holm was a shy dwarf.

"Noted…" He nodded, and did just that after his bath. He combed his long hair, and braided his hair along the top, pulling even sections of hair with his skilled fingers, weaving and plaiting them together until he took the bulk of his long, lustrous hair, and twisted it all up into a bun without a hair out of place. He finished it off with a long, dark blue ribbon that Bella had given to him, as it was his favorite color.

He stood in front of the mirror, thinking he looked rather sharp with his hair like this. His face was not hidden by his hair at all…showing off his widows peak more than normal, and even more so, showing off his sharp cheekbones. Even with his well trimmed, yet bushy beard, it was easier to see how his face was very angular under all the hair, and he couldn't help but think he looked far too…sharp for a dwarf.

Anytime he'd seen another dwarf in passing — which was a rare occurrence all together — he'd noticed they gave him strange looks. Compared to them he was a little taller, and though he was still broad, he was more slender in comparison to the stout-broadness of other dwarves. His features were more narrow and sleek while others were more round. Not like how hobbits had round button noses, but instead round like a squat mushroom. Perhaps that was simply a difference between the clans…as he had remembered he was a Longbeard dwarf…

Yet it mattered not at the moment. In this moment, he was making sure he looked presentable for his friend's party. Well, their son's party, but he knew who truly did the work for it. He only hoped that Bilbo appreciated all the work they were putting into it. To hear that Bilbo was uninterested in giving a speech, and that he was simply going to sleep until his party only made Holm wonder if Bilbo was actually a lazy lout, and that his parents simply wore rose-colored glasses around him.

"He's just tired from all his work in Tukburrow coming to an end. Now that he's of age and he finished his apprenticeship with his grandfather, he can rest. Yavanna knows he deserves it. Old Tooks been working him to the bone…not that he can't handle it…He's the one who insisted upon the apprenticeship anyways…" Bungo had explained, and Holm hoped he had the chance to ask about the apprenticeship…perhaps he could hire an apprentice as well to help him around the smithy.

He took his time getting ready, putting on his best outfit. He'd never felt all too comfortable in hobbit styles, even when Bungo had some tailored to fit his body…and even Bungo and the tailor, Mister Tilton Bunce (not to be confused with his cousin Tildon Bunce, who was also a tailor, but lived up in Long Cleeve with his family) both agreed that Holm looked rightly foolish in hobbit clothes. And so, Mister Tilton Bunce worked hard at curating a proper dwarf-ish wardrobe for Holm, consisting of long tunics and long pants, socks, and even went against all his morals and helped order some boots from Bree for Holm too.

He pulled on a lovely deep blue long sleeved cotton shirt, and fastened the cuffs at his wrists rather than rolling them up as he tended to do when milling about town. He then layered it with a short sleeved tunic over top. It's color was an even deeper shade of blue, and the edges were all lined in a lovely silver embroidery along the plunging neckline (which allowed for the high collar of his under-shirt to show, as he did not like his neck showing too much), the edges of his sleeves, and the bottom of the tunic as well. The design was perhaps the only hobbity style he allowed, as it felt right to have oak leaves and acorns adorning his attire.

His trousers were a simple black, and over his woolen socks he wore simple leather boots without his typical steel toe and heel as he prayed he'd not crush any poor hobbit's toes tonight while dancing — Belladonna made it clear he'd not get out of dancing, seeing as she and Bungo took quite a lot of time teaching him for other parties he'd been dragged along to. He finished the outfit off with a simple belt around his middle, black like his pants and boots, and he was rather satisfied with his appearance.

"Sorry I'm late…" Holm had grinned sheepishly at Bungo as he made his way through the crowd of hobbits.

"Nonsense! The party doesn't truly start till Bilbo gives his speech, and that isn't for a few more songs. You needed your rest as much as the poor lad did." Bungo patted Holmes arm comfortingly, reassuring him it was all well and good.

"Your hair is so lovely like that, Holm! You should teach me how to do that." Bella ooo'd and aah'd at the style he adorned, but kept her hands fastened together behind her back as she admired his appearance.

"Perhaps…your hair is far too wild and curly for this…we'd have to straighten out those rowdy curls…" Holm snorted as Bungo twirled the wild hair in his fingers before pulling his wife gently into a loving and quick kiss.

They enjoyed each other's company for a few more songs, not yet feeling up to dancing as they knew they'd have till sunrise to do that, and they were all rather tired from their work on the party. Instead, Bella and Bungo wanted to stand back and admire all they'd accomplished.

"I know I wasn't here for your coming-of-age, Bungo…but I'd like to think that this tops any party the Shire has ever seen…not just Hobbiton…" Holm praised proudly, able to easily look above all the heads of the party goers, watching the faunts and younger tweens dancing around, playing with their presents, and eating as much of the food they could shove in their mouths.

"Thank you, my friend…I think you're right. I only hope that Bilbo isn't too uncomfortable about it all…sometimes I forget that he's less…extroverted than his mother and I. He's a shy one…even if he pretends he's not for our sake. I hope he enjoys himself tonight…"

"He will. I'm sure of it." Holm smiled, closing his eyes as he sipped at his honey-mead, courtesy of Bungo.

"Oh! This is it, Holm ! We've got to go…it's our role to stand by him while he gives his speech…we'll see you later!" Bella grins eagerly as she grabbed Bungo's hand and dragged him off to the stage as the song came to it's close.

Holm moved from his spot, as it felt a little empty without his friends there by his side, and wandered over to one of the many posts in the ground that he'd put up to hold up the strings of lights. He could trust it would hold him as he leaned against the log, crossing his arms over his chest, and crossing his legs as he rested comfortably, waiting for the speech to begin.

He glanced over at the steps to the stage, seeing Belladonna and Bungo fussing with who Holm appropriately guessed was Bilbo, but he was hidden behind his parents as they gave him gentle reassurance that he'd do just fine on stage…or so Holm assumed, knowing them. Though he was relaxed, and no one gave him odd looks like they had when he went to his first hobbit party, he felt a little stiff, somewhat like the pole behind him. He looked up at the lights that had just been lit as the sun began going down, and enjoyed how they flickered in their jars like the fireflies that glowed brighter and brighter in the party grounds as the night went on.

Any stiffness in his bones melted away, seeping from him like soil through his fingers as he moved his gaze back to the stage. The crowd cheered as Bilbo walked across the platform to the center where he stood and waved to his family and friends. Holm felt a his heart beat hard and fast under his ribs, and a knot grow in his gut as he took in the sight of the handsome creature. Short curls, less springy than either of his parents, looking as if they were in a perpetual state of being wind swept, whisping here and there atop his head. They were the color of amber in the firelight, and each strand seemed to shine with a unique hue of their own…

Unlike the other blonds in the Shire, Bilbo's hair was not sandy or pale, or even strawberry blond…His were the colors of precious metals. Gold and brass and bronze and copper all swirling together, mixing and blending without ever fully becoming one consistent color. The firelight from the lamps on the stage made the hobbit shine even more dazzlingly than the stars and moon above, and the fireflies around everyone.

All Holm could think to himself in that moment was that he'd never seen anyone more beautiful. He couldn't quite see his face from the distance, and he felt a deep yearning to know every feature of the hobbit's face. Did he have freckles like Belladonna? Did he have dimples like Bungo? Or was his face, like his hair, unique to him in every way?

From where he stood, he appeared to be a fraction shorter than his parent, and he remembered how Bungo once told him that Bilbo had gotten the Fallowhide gene, making him shorter than other hobbits…though it was still 'just as respectable, mind you.'.

Holm had never felt such a compulsion to approach someone. He felt as if his body were being pulled towards Bilbo, like a compass pointing north. He longed to pull him close, and run his fingers through his dazzling hair. These feelings were so foreign and odd to him, and he was sure he'd never experienced them before, not in these past five years, nor in his past life before now…These were new, and scary and beautiful, and so right. Yet, he knew his friends would never forgive him if he succumbed to his longing, pushing his way through the crowd to pull a stranger into his arms. Embarrassing the person of honor and his parents (Holmes best friends) was not what he would ever consider respectable behavior.

And so, he simply stood and watched as Bilbo Baggins stood on stage, taking deep breaths as he began to speak.

Chapter Text

It was difficult to keep his legs from trembling as he walked to the center of the stage, waving at his guests. How he longed to tell the party that he didn't actually care for most of them the way they deserved. his family loved him, but it was a large family, and he struggled to keep up with their lives, especially these past five years with his apprenticeship. They deserved better than a small wave from him. Others though, did not deserve much at all…He was simply forced to invite the gaggle of lasses that longed for him to take one of them as his future wife. He did not want them there…but tradition was tradition.

He was of marrying age now, and he needed to be aware of his prospects…as if they hadn't made themselves known for years, each wanting him…not for who he was, but for he would be. The Baggins had much influence in not only Hobbiton but the Shire at large…and Bilbo was the favorite grandson of the Thain! Why, any girl would be lucky to marry him…they'd be just like the princesses in those mannish fairy stories…and in this moment, Bilbo wished for nothing more than a dragon from one of those stories to swoop down and swallow him whole.

He looked back at his father and mother, their proud, teary eyed smiles filling him with more uncertainty than courage, and he turned back to the crowd. He tried to remember how his father had told him to look over everyone's heads when he felt nervous. With a deep breath, his eyes gazed over top the curly hobbit heads, until they landed upon the most beautiful sight.

His nerves ceased…any sense of fear or dread vanishing as he took in who he could only guess was his parent's friend, Holm. His body, which had been trembling and quaking like a leaf on a tree, now felt sturdy and strong, like a proud tree with deep roots. His heart ached so perfectly in his chest, almost like the feeling of watching a particularly beautiful sunset…but there was nothing sun-like about Holm.

Holm was the moon…a glorious, shining and beautiful light amongst the darkness. His hair was tied back beautifully, and was as dark as raven feathers, as was his beard. Bilbo had never thought he'd find a beard attractive, yet here he was, wanting to run his fingers through it to determine if it was as soft as he imagined it to be. He looked nothing like the dwarves he'd met in his travels across the Shire, and he was very glad for it…for Holm was the most handsome thing he'd ever laid eyes upon.

Bilbo had never known someone to be so broad. His shoulders and chest looked firm and muscular, and simply put…built. Bilbo felt his cheeks flush when his eyes traipsed over the dwarf's forearms as he rolled his sleeves up over his elbows, revealing the hairiest arms Bilbo ever knew to exist, and though they were hidden with how his arms were crossed over his chest, Bilbo was sure his hands were just as large and rough as the rest of him.

When their eyes locked, he knew it was no trick of the light convincing him he held the dwarf's gaze, but that he was truly being seen by the dwarf in that moment. Not watched like how his suitors were ogling him. He could hear their giggles about how handsome he was, and though he knew he was indeed, a handsome lad, he didn't think his looks should be the basis of liking him. He strove to not glare at the girls as they chattered under their breaths about how nice it'd be to one day become the next 'Mistress Baggins', and he couldn't help but like them even less than before.

None of that gaggle would ever become his bride, for he knew without a doubt that his soul belonged to the dwarf standing mysteriously on his lonesome. It wasn't until his father cleared his throat that he realized he'd not spoken yet, and was simply standing there, practically undressing the dwarf with his eyes. He felt his cheeks flush but as he continued holding Holmes gaze, he couldn't help but feel brave.

He greeted each family that was in attendance from the Baggins clan to the Whitefoot family, he listed them off perfectly, just as his father had written…but when he was done with his greetings, he couldn't bear to give Bungo's speech. He wanted more than anything for Holm to hear him.

"Today is my thirty-third birthday!" He grinned, and the crowd cheered, for it was indeed a very special thing indeed, to turn thirty-three. "This day was one I thought could not come soon enough, yet as it drew nearer I realized I could very well do with a few more years living as an irresponsible tween. It was as if it were only yesterday that I was burglarizing pies off windowsills and eating them in trees…" He smiled wistfully as he spoke. "Because it was. I'm very sorry, Aunt Maybell, but it simply smelled too good to just leave there." He apologized, and he heard his aunt's gasp clearly as she learned it was him who stole her freshly baked pie. "I have grown up since yesterday, and have become a respectable and responsible adult. Because of this, I feel compelled to confess my crimes. But, as we all know, Maybell Baggins makes the best blackberry pies in all of Hobbiton, so can I truly be blamed?" He asked the crowd who cheered.

"A crime of passion!" Chimed Maybell's husband in agreement, earning a swift smack in the arm.

"Now, as I stand before you all, I feel quite pleased to have reached my maturity. You see, we hobbits are lucky. Though our bones may ache from working fields, and our skin may wrinkle from our smiles…we stay young at heart, no matter the years under out belts. Which is why I happily agreed to share the pie with my grandfather, the Old Took, because without his help, I'd not have know my aunt even baked a blackberry pie that was fit for stealing. I knew then that if I could steal a pie yesterday at thirty-two, and my grandfather could encourage me to do so at the age of one-hundred and ten…then there is nothing to be afraid of. In time, I'll let you all know if my prediction tonight is a sound one…beware though, that I might have to begin recruiting my little cousins to do my bidding, for as a respectable adult, I shall not sully my hands with thievery…but I will sully them with freshly baked goods. So in the meantime, please enjoy yourselves tonight! Dance and be merry and even more so, tell my parents, Belladonna and Bungo Baggins 'thank you' for putting together such a lovely party. I certainly don't deserve it, but I'll accept it all the same."

With a deep breath, not realizing he'd been speaking a mile a minute, he then took Bungo's mug of mead and grinned at the crowd as he held it up for a toast. "To my parents! Without them I'd not have come this far…but with them, I'm wise enough to know I've still got miles to go. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" The crowd bellowed enthusiastically as they all drank their fill.

Quickly, Bilbo gave the mug back to his father, placing it in his hands after he finished downing the liquid courage. He gave his parents a smile before darting off the stage, not wanting to answer to his father about where his random speech had come from. And even more importantly, he wanted to find the beautiful dwarf who gave him the confidence to speak.

Bilbo Baggins had never felt more emboldened in his life, nor did he ever felt so sure of himself, especially not in front of such a crowd. He could not care in the moment that he was the host of this party, and that he had responsibilities to attend to…all he cared about was reaching the dwarf. So, Bilbo swam through the crowd of hobbits dancing as the music started, the gaggle of girls who followed him now swept up into the dances themselves as Bilbo made his daring escape from them to meet Holm.

All the had been fighting over who Bilbo would choose to have for his first dance…It was an honor to have the first dance of the host of such a party. Yet Bilbo knew who he was going to dance with, and it was none of the girls with flowers for names who's personalities did not match their bloom in the slightest. Dahlia Banks was a menace, Lily Mugwart was a toxic gossip, Bellflower Sandyman was fickle, and Pansy Goodbody only cared about herself.

There was only one person he wanted to dance to share his first and every other dance with and that was Holm. His father had written about him in passing…saying that he didn't know his name, and he'd given him the name 'Holm' for the oak he'd been found under. Oaks represented nobility, honor, loyalty…all things he was eager to discover within the dwarf, as he knew in his soul that this dwarf was all of these things and more.

Bilbo had been thinking for months about who he'd end up asking for his first dance, as his father insisted he needed to do it. If he didn't, not only was it rude to the girls, but also a snub towards their families. The first dance was a required part of a coming of age party…a way to show that Bilbo was, indeed, an eligible bachelor of marrying age now. It would give him the opportunity to speak with the lasses individually whilst not needing a chaperon…yet Bilbo had no interest in any one of the girls.

The only other option was to dance with his mother or one of his grandmothers. It was a suitable, if rather old fashioned, way to show that he valued family above all else. Which was a perfectly acceptable thing to do to show your suitors you wished for a family one day. When, for Bilbo, it was simply a way of giving any of the girls false hope.

But no, as Bilbo snuck his way through the mirthful crowd, he approached the dwarf who was looking around the crowd of dancers with sad eyes…but when they landed on Bilbo (who could see now that they were many beautiful shades of blue), the sadness vanished and he moved to meet Bilbo in the middle, closing the distance between each other.

"Dance with me." Bilbo smiled handsomely, his cheeks pink and eyes shining as he took Holmes paw of a hand in his own, dragging him out to where everyone was dancing, the next song about to start.

Holm saw Bilbo's beautiful smile grow even brighter when he squeezed, holding the smaller, softer hand in his own. Though his own palm was rough with callouses of his trade, he could feel some rough spot of Bilbo's own, evidence of the trees he claimed he climbed, and the garden he knew he helped his parents tend to. Holmes heart fluttered in his chest when Bilbo turned around, facing him once more as the music started, and he and Bilbo threw themselves into the first dance.

It was a song and dance that Belladonna and Bungo had drilled into him three years ago for the Hobbiton May Festival…yet another time when he and Bilbo could have met, if not for the hobbit catching a cold, and staying in the Great Smials instead. Holm couldn't complain about not meeting Bilbo sooner, for this dance and this embrace in this moment felt so very right.

"My name is Bilbo!" The hobbit said finally, as if realizing they'd not spoken a word as they spun one another around, jumping and clapping with the music.

"I know! Happy birthday!" Holm smiled brightly, and watched how Bilbo's eyes widened at the sight of his cheeks growing round and pink from just how happy his smile was. "I go by Holm! Your parents invited me!" He grinned, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"I know!" Bilbo laughed as Holmes hands guided Bilbo away from him, then pulled him back in, their bodies flushed together as they stepped perfectly in sync. "And I've never been more glad for anything in my life! I shall have to thank my parents for more than simply throwing me a party!" He beamed, and Holm threw his head back in laughter.

There were some murmurs of disapproval, more than some, to be honest…yet Bilbo Baggins did not care, and Holm could not bring himself to care either, as it mattered not if the Shire folk approved of them sharing a first, or second, or third dance…what mattered was that Bilbo was in Holmes arms as they got to know one another as they danced. Bungo had told him that his son wasn't always one for following tradition, so who could truly blame the hobbit for starting now? It was his party after all.

But, Bilbo was of marrying age, and as he was not a presented lad (like Desi Proudfoot who was joyfully dancing with his betrothed Syd Brandybuck), he should be dancing with the girls who had been throwing themselves at him for years. But Bilbo showed no signs of giving up the fourth or fifth dance to anyone but Holm…nor the ones that followed after, either. The night carried on, the stars shining brighter as they danced across the sky with the fireflies around them following their lead, Bilbo's suitors gave up on him and decided to enjoy the party regardless of their broken hearts.

When they finally ran out of dances Holm knew, Bilbo simply put his hands on the dwarf's waist, enjoying the feeling of just how firm he was beneath his palms, and couldn't hold back a shiver when the dwarf put his hands on Bilbo's hips, and Holm quite enjoyed the feeling of how curved they were under his own palms too, as if giving his hands the perfect place to land.

As the music played a slower tune, the two simply swayed and spun around, slowly but surely making their way away from the party-goers and towards the outskirts of the field where the storage tents had been set up.

"-which is why I've been away for so long. My grandfather's mentorship was wonderful, mind you…but I am quite thrilled to be done with it. I quite deserve a nice long break from such taxing things…" Bilbo chuckled as he and Holm were no longer even swaying back and forth, simply standing there with the other in their arms as they spoke.

"Well, I am glad for it too…I'm very pleased to finally meet you, Bilbo Baggins…" Holm sighed sweetly as he rested his chin atop Bilbo's curls when he leaned in, pressing his ear to Holmes chest, enjoying the rhythm of his heartbeat. "I've not yet needed to go to Tukburrow, as they've got several smiths, as you know…but I've heard the folk there are more queer than here in Hobbiton…is that true?" Holm asked curiously, his hands finding purchase on Bilbo's lower back.

"True enough. After living there five years, I can't help but think it is Hobbiton that is more queer. In Tookland they care a little less about appearance and what is proper, and focus on what makes life enjoyable. If they don't wish to talk to someone, they simply don't. If you no longer want to converse with your annoying neighbors, you just tell them you've got to go, and its done! Yet here…" Bilbo shuddered, grimacing as he nuzzled closer to Holm, as if trying to hide himself from the topic. "Here we have small talk, and after having a taste of not needing to do it in Tookland…well, I'm less than pleased to revert back to these ways…" He laughed dryly.

"Oh? Is that so?" Holm chuckled, understanding quite well what Bilbo meant. Though Hobbiton was far the most stiff in these ways, he got a taste of a more relaxed way to go about life when he visited the South Farthing, and found returning to Hobbiton to be a bit stifling. "How's the weather?" Holm couldn't help but tease.

"Oh? It's quite dreadful…" Bilbo smirked, looking up at Holm with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "I do believe it'll rain soon…" Bilbo sighed dramatically, and they both looked up at the cloudless night sky.

"Rain you say?" Holm asked, pulling Bilbo a little closer, if it were even possible, as if to shield him from the rain.

"Indeed…so perhaps we should find some shelter from it, hmm?" Bilbo suggested, his hands grabbing at Holmes once again and slipped both of them through the flaps of one of the storage tents. Upon entering, Holm recognized it as one of the tents storing the extra drinks and some other foodstuffs. There were several tents filled with extra drink and foodstuffs, this one being the third of four (as Bungo and Bella liked to be prepared) and as the party had not quite finished the first yet, they felt reassured that they would not be discovered any time soon.

The tent was dark and unlit, and did a decent job of blocking out the sound of music and laughter from the party, allowing the two to exist in their own little world for the time being. Bilbo quickly took another mug from the lineup, and poured them a cup to share, enjoying the tingling sensation of the sweet mead on their tongues, and enjoying even more the sensation of sharing a drink, which was seen as a very intimate thing to do indeed.

It was nearly midnight, and parties of this size often went till the sun rose…illuminating the party grounds where many a hobbit could be found sleeping atop a blanket with their friends and family…as it was one of the few times unmarried lads and lasses were allowed to be out together so late without any societal repercussions. If Holm were a lass, and Bilbo had snuck her away into the tent, that'd be the scandal of the century to be sure…but Holm was very much not a lass. He was an older man, and a dwarf at that.

In this time, Bilbo got to know about Holm even more…or at least what Holm knew about himself. He told Bilbo of his smithy and the work he does, and how it was one of his first memories to come back to him about himself. He explained how he felt the compulsion to shave his beard…how he was afraid he was not a good person in the time before he lost his memories…He told Bilbo of his hopes and dreams, just as Bilbo told him the same…and even more importantly, they spoke of nothing important at all.

"No, I suppose I prefer baked potatoes to mashed…if I had to choose between the two. But I think my very favorite are the country potatoes Miss Cotton makes at the Green Dragon. They've got the perfect amount of salt…" He hummed thoughtfully, taking his time to answer every question that popped into Bilbo's mind. Bilbo's heart warmed as Holm treated his silly questions with genuine regard and consideration, as if he were asking the dwarf something profound, and not simply what his favorite potato dishes were.

"What about you? Do you prefer-"

Holm couldn't finish asking which kind of potatoes the hobbit liked more, for before he could finish asking, Bilbo's lips had found his own.

Small, soft slips pressed against his own rougher ones which were perpetually chapped despite his best efforts. They were tentative and careful…and they were so very sweet. Bilbo cupped Holmes cheek with one hand, his fingers running through his beard, feeling Holmes cheeks heat up under his touch…and feeling how the dwarf was practically purring before he let out a soft whine when Bilbo finally pulled away.

Bilbo held Holmes gaze once again, breathing heavily as he felt the dwarf's hand on his lower back, pulling him into another kiss. The dwarf's hand slid its way up Bilbo's arm to the back of his neck, cradling his head gently as he carded his fingers through Bilbo's shimmering curls, neither able to keep the kiss chaste any longer, as Bilbo's lips tasted of mead and Old Toby, and Holm couldn't help but chase his favorite flavors.

Bilbo's lips moved against his with a confidence that belied his innocence. There was such a tender heat growing between them, a desire that they continued to match no matter how intense it became. Eventually, they found it much easier on their necks if they didn't kiss sitting side by side…and so Holm guided Bilbo to sit on his lap, one hand on the hobbit's very squeezable hip, and the other still holding the back of his head. There was no pressure against him though, as he wanted to ensure Bilbo could run off if he so desired…but Bilbo moaned into the kiss and Holm knew that Bilbo wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

"I -I know…I know we just met, Holm…b-but…" Bilbo muttered, kissing along Holmes cheek to his jaw, nuzzling his button nose against the dwarf's soft beard, his breath coming out in a desperate shudder.

"I think I love you." Holm blurted out, his blue eyes shining brightly as his hands moved to cup Bilbo's hairless cheeks, his thumbs gently caressing where he blushed most brightly. "No…I know I love you, Bilbo Baggins. I feel it in my soul…from the moment I gazed upon you on that stage, I knew I was yours." Holm sighed sweetly, his voice tender and sweet as he placed a soft kiss to Bilbo's nose, smiling at how cute the hobbit's open mouthed stare was. "Please…Bilbo, if you do not feel the same as I do…tell me what I must do to gain your love…for I do not think I could co another day without you…I could not bear it…" Holm whispered, his eyes sad at the prospect of rejection.

"I love you too…" Bilbo whispered just as softly, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into Holmes touch, turning his head slightly to kiss Holmes palm reverently, before staring into his eyes once more. "I saw you and I knew that you were it for me. It felt as if I'd already given you my heart…and that with it in your care, I could truly be confident…not just in front of everyone, but as myself. It felt as if I were speaking to you alone…you…you are everything I've ever wanted, Holm…" Bilbo sighed, peppering more kisses on the dwarf's palm and wrist now.

"And what is it you've always wanted?" Holm crooned as he leaned in to kiss at Bilbo's jaw and neck, his hands falling to the hobbit's sides as he did so, enjoying the subtle dip in of his waist, and the curve out of his hips, noting that Bilbo was a bit curvier compared to the other lads, even if his clothes masked his shape.

"Love at first sight." Bilbo said simply, his smile changing into a serious expression as his eyes bore into the dwarf's very soul, warming it with his words, as Holm felt that he too had been waiting for much the same.

"And your suitors?" Holm asked, as it was his turn now to lean into Bilbo's touch. "Your father told me you have many here tonight, each wishing to court you. Yet here you are with me…" He smirked, proud of the fact that he was the hobbit's soul fixation this evening.

"And my father knows I hold no interest in them. He's tried for nearly a decade to set something up between me and some girl…and each time I quickly reject the notion. I wanted…I wanted to fall in love just like he and my mother had. If they had love at first sight, why couldn't I?" Bilbo pouted Briefly before smiling again. "And what about you? You are well past your maturity, I'd wager…tell me…am I kissing a married dwarf?" Bilbo asked nervously, though it didn't stop him from stealing a few more kisses.

"And if you were?" Holm teased.

"Well, it goes without saying that I do not think I possess the skill nor strength to fight for your hand…and I'd rather not fight someone even if I were able to do so…But if you say you love me as I love you, then I'll steal you for as long as you'll let me…" Bilbo professed, his heart ache clear in his voice at the thought of this being temporary, only for Holm to return to a wife afterwards.

"I can assure you, Amrâlimê …No fight is necessary. I am unattached. I have no wife or family waiting for me in Hobbiton or a mountain somewhere…I am certain of this. I…I believe I have also been waiting for a love like this as well…and I know in my heart of hearts there is no dwarf or hobbit alive who could hold my love the way you do…" Holm grinned.

"Good…" Bilbo blushed brightly, feeling immense relief. "Good…very good…I suppose that means there is no reason for me to feel guilty about kissing you, then?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as his eyes drifted from his own to his kiss swollen lips.

"None that I can think of…" Holm grinned as his hand held Bilbo's head once more, guiding him back in for another kiss. It was gentle and sweet, and after a moment, he gingerly caressed the tip of his tongue to the seam of Bilbo's lips, coaxing them apart as they guided each other. While Holm led them in the kiss, it was Bilbo who guided Holmes hands over his body, insisting they find his skin rather than the fabric of his shirt.

When Holmes hands squeezed at his hips, he couldn't help but moan into Bilbo's mouth, feeling how his supple skin was so easy to kneed and massage, wanting to never let go.

"Holm! Oh…oh goodness…I want more of your hands…please…they're so warm…" The hobbit whimpered breathlessly, biting his lip as he tried to hold back his voice. "I've…I've never felt like this before…like my body is on fire, and only more heat will make it better…" Bilbo groaned, and Holm felt that way himself, and so he happily obliged.

The fire under Bilbo's skin only grew hotter as Holmes gentle caresses and tentative squeezes turned into desperate groping, not wanting to deny his hobbit anything. He unbuttoned the hobbit's waistcoat, and slid his suspenders off his shoulders, giving him the slack he needed at the hobbit's waist band to sneak his hands beneath the corduroy and feel the goosebumps on his soft skin as he gave the tender flesh a loving squeeze. Bilbo squeaked softly, leaning forward as Holmes hands worked his rear, he shifted ever so slightly only to feel Holmes own desire between his legs.

"Bilbo…Amrâlimê …I love you…" Holm moaned as he never let his lips leave Bilbo's skin for more than a breath, nor did he remove his hands from the hobbit's pert ass. His tongue mapped out the shape of Bilbo's mouth in long, languid strokes, pulling out low moans and breathy whines from the hobbit as the two continued to grow more passionate, the very thought of stopping or slowing never crossing their mind.

It felt as if they were moving too slowly…as if they were wasting time. It felt as if they'd known one another for years now, and there was no reason to be so cautious…It was clear Bilbo felt the same way, because his hands, trembling with excitement and need, reached down to undo the dwarf's belt around his waist, and then unlace the strings of his pants. Holm let out a deep groan of relief when the pressure holding his stiffness back eased, and gasped, biting his lip hard when the hobbit helped free his cock from the confines of his underwear.

"B-Bilbo…" Holm shuddered under the hobbits curious and tentative touch, unable to help but buck up into his touch. His hand was so soft and so perfect, and the small chuckle of glee from Bilbo was just as pleasurable to his ears as the hobbits touch was to his cock.

"Is this nice? C-can…can I do this?" He asked eagerly, slowing his unsure strokes as he waited for Holmes answer. Even more eagerly than Bilbo had asked the question, Holm nodded and moaned, resting his head back against the barrels as he closed his eyes, muttering words of desire in Khuzdul to the young hobbit.

"Do I take it that means 'yes'?" Bilbo smiled, tilting his head to the side as he continued waiting.

"Yes! Yes…oh Mahal it is a yes…I want you to touch me. I want to touch you…Bilbo…your body is too far from mine…" Holm groaned as he tried to keep his voice low as Bilbo continued to explore Holmes aching stiffness.

"I…I've never done this before," Bilbo confessed shyly, his eyes fixed on Holmes weeping cock. "I want to…but I do not know how…I do not know what to do…I've only ever done it to myself…" He blushed as used the pad of his thumb to circle around Holmes slit, enjoying the way the beads of precum smeared, making it easier and even more pleasurable to rub the dwarf.

"I know you don't remember your past…do you…do you remember if you did this?" He asked shyly, squeezing tenderly at Holmes dick, needing to know if between the two of them, at least one of them knew what to do next.

"I…I…I do not know if I…If I ever did this with another…but I know what to do…" He said, swallowing hard as he tried to remain composed enough to think straight. "I know what to do…" He said again, reassuring Bilbo and grunting out as Bilbo's palm continued smearing his precum around the tip of his cock, making Holmes thighs twitch and toes curl as the hobbit got to stroking him once more. His hand was not quite large enough to fully grasp the dwarf's girth, but he didn't mind as he basked in the hobbit's gentle touches and strokes.

"Guide me?" Bilbo practically begged with how he whined out the words.

Holm nodded hastily, putting his hand over Bilbo's as he guided him through the motions that made him feel best. Long and slow, focusing primarily on the reddish purple tip of his cock as it twitched in his hand. His breath hitched each time the soft pads of the hobbit's palms ghosted over the underside of his glans, making the dwarf see stars with every stroke.

"F-fuck…Bilbo…I want…I want to be with you…" He panted, pinching his own skin hard to keep him from spilling too soon, the pain distracting him from just how close he was. Focusing on his breathing, he leaned in for another quick kiss before he continued talking. "I want to be with you…inside you…please…" He spoke desperately, knowing he didn't need to beg with how Bilbo needed him just as deeply.

"I-inside?" Bilbo asked, confused. "…W-with your tongue?" He said again, furrowing his brow as he thought of their heated kisses.

"No…inside…inside you…here…" Holm grunted as he traced a finger between the hobbit's cheeks, enjoying the way he shuddered from the touch.

"My butt?" Bilbo squeaked, his nose twitching as he tried to understand such a foreign concept.

"Yes…U-unless you'd rather be inside me? Or not at all…we…this is nice…this is perfect I just-" Holm rambled, feeling just as confused as Bilbo now, his muttering cut off by another kiss.

"I want to bring you pleasure…if you want to be inside me…I want it too. I just…don't understand…" Bilbo muttered against the dwarf's lips, feeling rather embarrassed.

The vague memory of him and Belladonna speaking once popped in his mind. She had explained how hobbits don't teach about certain things until the night before their weddings. The parents will take their children to the side, and give them 'the talk' as Bella phrased it. She had told him it was painfully awkward, and that her mother had brought out a text book and everything to explain what it meant to consummate a marriage. He had told her he was pretty sure his learning of such things was less traumatic…as it felt, in his mind, just a natural part of life and one's health.

So…to have Bilbo keening for him on his lap as he confessed his innocence on the topic, Holm felt both a mix of trepidation and arousal. To know that such vital information was kept from Bilbo, and every other hobbit for that matter, made him uncomfortable. But to know he'd could be the one to guide Bilbo through such passions…to be the only touch Bilbo has ever known…It sent waves of lust through every fiber of his being.

"Bilbo…I…I need you to truly consider this…this…isn't something hobbits do until they get married…" He explained, hoping beyond hope that he was right on the topic. "What…what I want to do…is something that you'd only learn about the day of your wedding…a-are you sure that-"

"Holm! Please…I'm an adult, and I can make my own choices…my own decisions. I choose you. Please…I want this…" He begged, grinding his own clothed erection over Holmes now, both of them whining and shuddering with delight at the friction.

"Then who am I to deny my love what he wants? I'll give you everything…forever…if you'll have me…" He groaned, happily and willingly caving into the hobbit's desperate demands. "But…I've got no oil on me…" Holm realized sadly.

"Why do we need oil?" Bilbo asked, trying to think of why such a thing would be needed.

"Oil…for preparing you for me. Unless you wished it to be the other way…I would still rather have oil though…" Holm laughed with a mixture of awkwardness and fondness, blushing brightly as he never thought he'd have to guide someone through this as it was happening.

"Preparing? Holm, I'm prepared. I know what I want-"

"Have you ever had anything inside you, Amrâlimê ?" Holm asked hungrily as he easily readjusted their position so he could nibble at Bilbo's cute, pointed ears, licking up the shell of it and smiling as the hobbit whimpered and squirmed in delight at the sensation.

"I-Inside? No, never…why?" He asked, knowing that Holm kept speaking of being inside him, but not knowing what that meant exactly.

Holm would be a liar if he didn't admit just how arousing Bilbo's expression was as he asked him such intimate questions. He grunted as he ground his hips up against Bilbo's again, craving the delicious friction as he considered his words carefully.

"I wish to make love to you…in a way that would connect us very intimately…I wish for this," Holm moaned as he gave a more rough thrust up against Bilbo, making his cock's presence known. "To be inside you…and I for both our sake's, we'll need oil to help make your body ready to take me inside…" He explained, his finger now lightly brushing against the hobbit's asshole, determined to make sure he understood what it was that he was getting himself into.

Holm worried that Bilbo would be scared or upset, or even appalled at the notion…but instead, Bilbo's eyes widened with lust and glee as he nodded eagerly. "Yes! Yes please…I want that…I want that…" He agreed enthusiastically, the thought of Holmes cock nestled inside him making his own dick twitch and stomach flip happily.

"Then…I must insist we have oil.." He repeated. Before he could say or do anything else, the hobbit was scrambling his way off of Holmes lap and quickly looking around the tent, glancing inside different crates and boxes as he muttered the words 'oil, oil, oil' over and over again as he searched.

Holm licked his lips as he touched himself, rubbing his erection to keep it hard for Bilbo, not that that was a challenge. He watched as Bilbo continuously had to tug up his pants to keep them from falling. Other than his hands, the only thing that kept his trousers from falling was his dick as it pressed against the fabric, holding it up like a coat on a peg on the wall.

There was a happy cheer of success from Bilbo as he made his way back to Holm, brandishing a bottle of oil in one hand. "Some extra dressings for salads were stored in here…I'm very glad there was just plain olive oil, as I don't think balsamic vinaigrette was what you had in mind…" Bilbo grinned cheekily.

"Definitely not…" Holm laughed happily as he grabbed Bilbo by the hips firmly, keeping him from sitting on his lap. "Can I remove these for you?" He breathed out huskily, looking up at Bilbo with love and admiration want that it mesmerize the hobbit, leaving him speechless. All he could do was give a silent nod of eager agreement, his eyes fixed on the dwarf's hands on his hips.

With deft fingers, Holm unfastened the many brass buttons of his trousers, and tugged both his pants and underwear down his legs till they pooled around his ankles. He took his time admiring the way Bilbo's cock had bounced when it was released from its confines. It had bobbed up and down before standing at attention, tilting towards Holmes lips like a compass needle pointing north.

He smiled as he leaned in, nuzzling the hobbit's supple thighs before he gave him a gentle lick from the base of his cock to the tip, enjoying the clean taste of his hobbit's musk. Of course Bilbo would have bathed before his party…he was a proper hobbit, and Holm knew how deeply they cared for hygiene…but the fact that Bilbo still smelled so overwhelmingly perfect and sweet despite the hours of dancing and very heated kisses…

He'd never smelled something so…divine. As if Bilbo chose whatever perfume or cologne he was wearing, or soap he washed with, specifically with Holmes preferences in mind…not that Holm had ever realized how much he loved the scent of lavender and honey…sweet and calming and oh so delicious. He took another taste…his tongue now lapping at the hobbit's tip, enjoying the taste of his precum as he dipped into the slit for a taste of the pooling liquid, tasting as sweet as the their favorite drink…like an ambrosia brewed just for him.

The taste of Bilbo was pleasurable enough to make the dwarf moan, and he was so very pleased that Bilbo was a hobbit, because he didn't want to wait any longer to take the hobbit completely into his mouth. Of course, he didn't want to rush things and overwhelm him…so he moved slowly, and placed wet kisses on the head of the hobbit's arousal before opening his mouth and taking him into it.

Bilbo let out a muffled cry of surprise and pleasure, his hand covering his mouth as he felt the hot wetness of Holmes mouth envelop his cock, taking him deeper and deeper into his mouth with methodical precision…each time he pulled away he provided the perfect amount of suction, and each time he took the hobbit deeper into his mouth, his tongue worked wonders on the underside of his cock.

As Bilbo basked in the pleasure of Holmes mouth, the dwarf took the bottle of oil from him and poured a generous amount down between the hobbit's cheeks, and then on his hand. He wanted to use this moment to distract Bilbo from the upcoming discomfort of his thick fingers in his ass, spreading him and getting him nice and ready for his even thicker cock. Bilbo was too blissed out from the heat of Holmes tongue to notice the slickness trickling down his ass.

As Holm licked and sucked at the hobbit, he ran a finger up and down between his cheeks, teasing him softly as he added a bit of pressured to the puckered ring of muscle, the pad of his finger pushing ever so slightly against his entrance as he continued sucking him off.

Bilbo's hands found themselves tangling in Holmes beautifully styled hair, unintentionally gripping roughly as he tried to keep himself from bucking into the dwarf's mouth. Yet all the roughness did was make Holm grown lowly in in approval, encouraging Bilbo to do so again.

When he felt that Bilbo was finally ready to take his finger, he lowered his mouth further on the hobbit's cock, rubbing his tongue back and forth to distract him as he slid an oiled finger inside him.

"O-oh!" Bilbo gasped, his eyes screwing shut quickly before opening wide in surprise, squeezing tightly at the foreign feeling, pushing the tip of Holmes finger from him. "S-sorry…" Bilbo breathed, embarrassed at his reaction as he continued to stroke Holmes hair as if to tell him he'll try to stay relaxed, and for him to try again.

Taking the hint, Holm continued, looking up at the hobbit as he swallowed him down, providing such excellent suction in ways that Bilbo never knew were possible, and he focused his mind on the way the dwarf's hot mouth and tongue worked him…how the tip of his cock now rubbed against the roof of Holmes mouth near his throat, making him moan.

It felt so good, that he hardly noticed Holmes finger finally making its way inside him. He let Bilbo adjust to the sensation, and used that hand to gently rock Bilbo forward and back, encouraging him to move his hips and to chase his pleasure in the dwarf's mouth.

Bilbo was happy to oblige, moving curiously with Holmes finger inside him, not realizing there were two, thick fingers inside him as he pressed his public pone against Holmes nose before pulling back, whimpering happily as the skilled blacksmith worked him open, scissoring him and taking his time to ensure the hobbit enjoyed every second of it.

"It…feels so nice…" Bilbo moaned happily, brushing some fallen hair behind Holmes round ear. "Can…can I undo your hair? I really, really want to hold it…" Bilbo requested, twirling the loose lock around his finger.

Taking it as an opportunity to relax his jaw and breathe unobstructed, Holm came off of Bilbo with a wet pop. "Yes please…I'd be honored…" He panted, catching his breath as he stared with half lidded, lust filled eyes at Bilbo, who didn't hesitate to carefully remove the blue ribbon from Holmes hair, watching as it cascaded down over his shoulders like an obsidian waterfall, the few strands of stress-related-silver adding even more beauty to the dwarf as his two front braids fell forward and framed his gorgeous face.

"You are so beautiful…" Bilbo breathed out, his gaze was so gentle and tender as he stared deeply into Holmes own. Holm had to bite back a moan of pleasure at the sight of those hazel eyes fluttering closed when he began scissoring him open, pumping up within him, reaching deeper and deeper as if he were trying to find something within him.

And find it he did.

Bilbo gasped, and his knees buckled when he felt a strange, amazing sensation deep within him, as if all his nerves were alight with blinding pleasure. It was overwhelming, and Holm smiled triumphantly as he helped hold the hobbit upright while continuing his ministrations. He continued caressing the sweet and senstive bundle of nerves inside Bilbo, fond of the almost drunk look Bilbo had on his face as he moaned when he carefully added a third finger, stretching him wide.

"I'm…I'm going t-to…I'm going to…" Bilbo panted, gasping and trembling from Holmes touches, knowing he was close to his relase.

"Come?" Holmes voice was husky and dark as he curled his three fingers inside the hobbit, milking Bilbo's prostate.

His hips twitched forward before he began grinding back down on teh fingers, and Holm felt his whole body grow more feral with need as he watched Bilbo use his fingers, fucking himself on the dwarf's hand to bring himself to completion.

"Just like that…I've got you…" Holm whispered comfortingly as he continued to curl and scissor his fingers along with Bilbo's grinding, his eyes darting between the hobbit's face as it contorted with pleaure, and his throbbing cock as it ached for release.

Holm was a logical dwarf. He knew that what they were doing was not something one should do in public…and the idea of leaving any evidence of their love making, though somewhat thrilling, was not a good idea. And so, he opened his mouth once more, pushing Bilbo forward towards him, urging the hobbit to use his mouth once more.

Greedily, the hobbit obliged, thrusting forward and then grinding back onto his hand, enjoying the dual stimulation as his whole body came undone. He took both of Holmes side braids in his hands and tugged them needily, holding them like reigns as he yanked gently on them, begging for Holm to take him deeper once again.

Holm was happy to do so, and obeyed the silent plea. He relaxed his jaw as he took Bilbo in all the way once more, allowing the hobbit to bottom out in his mouth, the tip of the smaller man's cock barely reaching the beginning of his throat as he spilled his seed inside. Like a man dying of thirst, Holm eagerly swallowedevery last drop of Bilbo's come, enjoying the feeling of it coating his insides as if it were honey tea on a sore throat.

"Ohhhh….OH goodness…Holm…that was incredible…Was…was that…was that…"

"All?" Holm smiled as he licked his lips and finished Bilbo's question for him. "No…that was not all I plan on doing with you…unless you wish for it to be all…"

"No! I…I still need more…please…I know I just…but I…Can I…my mouth?"

"I understand…" Holm smiled at the younger's ramblings, kissing Bilbo's hip bone. "And I am happy…I've yet to find my own release…and unlike some beautiful men, all that dancing worked up a sweat, and will not subject you to the smell or taste…" Holm teased as he took Bilbo's hands in his own, guiding him down onto his lap as he removed his fingers from the trembling hobbit. "No…I am going to put my cock inside you…bury myself so deep in you…mark you as mine…claim you…" Holm grunted possessively before kissing his lover once more, each kiss more perfect than the last.

"Oh yes please…" Bilbo sighed as he kissed back with just as much need. "I want you…I know…I know I just came…but I feel like I need more…more of you…please…I trust you….I want you to claim me…" He begged, his eyes wet with tears from how painfully desperate he was.

"Promise me…promise you'll tell me to stop if you need me to." Holm said firmly, needing Bilbo to promise to communicate clearly with him.

"I promise! I'll tell you to stop…please…I need you inside me…" He babbled, focusing on how Holmes eyes looked in the darkness of their hideaway.

"Patience. You will not want me inside you if it hurts…we have all the time in the world…" Holm smiled comfortingly before letting out a soft moan as he poured oil onto his member, rubbing it in before brushing it against Bilbo's ass. "Are you ready, my love?" He breathed out unsteadily, trying to control the deep rooted desire to simply pound into the hobbit.

"Yes…" Bilbo agreed firmly. "What do you need me to do?" Bilbo asked, not wanting him to do all the work.

"I…I want to take you while facing you…I want to watch every single reaction…I want to hear each and every moan…" Holm teased as he prepared to lay Bilbo down on his back.

"No!" Bilbo suddenly gasped, making Holm freeze, terrified he'd made some terrible mistake. "I…I can't! Not on my back! The grass stains on my shirt will be too noticeable!" He explained, noticing how nervous he'd made Holm become.

"Then we can remove your shirt?" Holm offered after a moment, his heart pounding in his chest still as he recovered from thinking he'd hurt Bilbo somehow.

"Oh definitely not, it's going to be too chilly…what…what if I just stayed like this?" He asked, grinding playfully as he sat in Holmes lap as he rested against the barrels still.

"Th-that'll be fine…That'll be…very fine…" Holm agreed as he calmed down before grabbing Bilbo's hips, helping position him just how he needed to be, helping him squat down until the blunt, thick head of Holmes dick nudged between his cheeks. When his cock first found Bilbo's slicked entrance, the head easily slipped inside…initially. Bilbo gasped as the very tip of his cock breached him, opening him…but winced in discomfort when he felt Holm push deeper. The way his tip flared out at the glans made it very difficult to get past the hobbit's tight muscle, no matter how well prepared he'd been with three fingers…his digits were hardly comparable to his cock.

"Easy, Bilbo…hold on…I've got you…" Holm reassured him once more as he felt Bilbo tighten, pushing Holm out of him. "Once…once the tip is inside, it'll be much easier…I promise…" He soothed, rubbing Bilbo's lower back.

"I'm sorry I-" Bilbo muttered, earning a kiss to his lips as he apologized.

"No…no sorries…not for this. Here…I'm not afraid of grass stains…" He smirked, and held Bilbo's hips as he moved away from the barrels, keeping the Hobbit on his lap as he laid down in the grass. "How's this? Is this okay?" Holm asked, laying flat on his back, his hair splayed out around him like the rays of the sun.

"This is…very okay….I think I'm quite capable of impaling myself on your cock like this, yes indeed…" Bilbo smirked, his words surprising and arousing Holm even more as his hobbit squatted over him, and his cock twitched up, slapping against Bilbo's cheeks and making them both giggle.

"Then…impale away?" Holm snorted, as he continued to hold the hobbit's hip, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. "Slowly…do not rush yourself…" Holm insisted, only to earn a playful yet defiant glare from Bilbo as he lowered himself. He was very glad gravity existed, as after he slid very slowly down Holm's member, his legs eventually gave out, and allowed gravity to do the rest of the work as his ass swallowed more of Holm's behemoth of a dick.

"Are…are you in? All the way?" Bilbo moaned wantonly, trembling and clenching around Holmes cock.

"Not quite…." He replied, struggling to keep his voice down and to keep him from rutting wildly into his hobbit.

"Finish it…all the way…fill me…please…I need it…" Bilbo begged, and again, the hobbit's words mirrored his own wants.

"As you wish," He grunted and held the hobbit steadily in his hands as he thrusted upward, his pubic bone colliding roughly with Bilbo's ass, making the younger man yelp, his voice trembling with pain initially as it quickly turned into a pleasurable sort of ache.

Blissed out from being fully sheathed in the tightest thing he'd ever imagined, he didn't notice that he was holding Bilbo firmly flush against his hips, giving him no means to move or escape if he needed. He quickly removed his hands, ready to apologize for being too rough…ready for Bilbo to pull off and run away…

He was not ready for Bilbo Baggins to moan lewdly as he curiously rocked his hips back and forth, adjusting to the new sensation of Holm inside him, filling him deeper than either ever thought possible.

"Move…please…move inside me like you did with your fingers…like I did in your mouth…" He begged, his hazel eyes cloudy with lust and desire.

Nodding, he shifted himself ever so slightly, bending his knees as he began thrusting into the hobbit's tight heat. Bilbo leaned weakly against Holmes bent legs, as if he were a chair, unable to hold himself up as Holm worked his body. It wasn't the most comfortable position for Holm, having his cock being angled down like that was not his preference…but what was his preference was seeing his lover's cock bounce along with each thrust. He watched in awe as Bilbo's body shook and trembled as Holm fucked him, and eventually, Bilbo lost his sense of balance and fell forward.

No longer squatting, Bilbo was now on his knees, straddling the dwarf's lap, struggling to have both knees on the ground at the same time with how thick the dwarf's thighs were. Holm wrapped his arms around Bilbo's body, holding him in place to keep his cock from sliding out any more. Though he could no longer see Bilbo's cute member quaking, he could easily pound up and into him, hitting his prostate repeatedly at a maddening pace. His thrusts becoming animalistic and feral, the power behind each thrust was enough to lift the hobbit's knees off the ground as if he were riding a bucking steed rather than a handsome dwarf.

"Holm! Holm…a-again! I'm gonna…I'm gonna…" Bilbo panted, mewling as he begged for release.

"Me too…Please…I…I want to come inside you…let me mark you…claim you in every way…" He begged, never needing anything more in his life… He grunted through gritted teeth as he began to loose his rhythm in favor of wildly fucking into his hobbit who's moans of appreciation were absolute perfection to listen to.

"Yes! Claim me! Mark me! I don't care how, just make me yours!" He begged and cried, hiding his face in the dwarf's chest as his ass was ravaged.

"C-coming!" He alerted the hobbit, grabbing his hips roughly once more as he slammed himself up, while pulling Bilbo down, grinding the hobbit against his hips as he came hard and deep, painting his insides with his seed,as he gasped and groaned out Bilbo's name.

Outside, the fireworks that Belladonna had requested from Gandalf the Grey had been set off, covering up the yells and cries of sheer pleasure as Holm filled his hobbit, and Bilbo came on the dwarf's belly. With all the bucking up into Bilbo, his shirt had slid upwards enough for the majority of Bilbo's' release to land on his hairy stomach and not his nicest blue tunic.

They remained like that for some time…Bilbo on Holmes lap as the dwarf finally felt his member softening inside the hobbit before slipping out of him. Eventually, Holm lowered his knees and straightened his body out on the ground, stretching his well worked body as Bilbo lay on him like a cat refusing to get off their owner when they wake in the morning.

"We've…we've got to clean up…" Bilbo laughed after a moment, finally slipping off of Holmes lap and feeling his limp prick leaving a gaping hole behind, and shuddering when he felt Holmes come slide out of him, pooling beneath him as he rolled over to lay next to the dwarf.

"Yes…but…let me…catch my breath…" Holm begged with a light chuckle, reaching out for Bilbo's hand to intertwine their fingers together. "That was…amazing Amrâlimê …I've never felt who whole in my life…" He confessed, and found the smile of pride that Bilbo wore to be irresistible…but as much as he wanted to kiss that smile, leaning up to do so would take more energy than he had, exhausted as he was. Dwarven stamina was nothing in the face of sex with Bilbo Baggins, apparently.

"Don't tell me you're so old you cannot move after that?" Teased Bilbo as he moved to kiss Holm on the cheek, only to regret it as a sharp shooting pain radiated in his rear, causing him to fall forward onto Holm instead.

"Oof!" He grunted as the air was knocked out of him,only to laugh and kiss Bilbo's cheek once he caught his breath. "What do you mean 'so old' how old do you think I am?" Holm snorted, coming his fingers through Bilbo's hair once more while the other rubbed the hobbit's back.

"Ummm…five hundred? I…I don't rightly know how old dwarves get…to be honest…" Bilbo blushed sheepishly.

"F-five hundred? What is it with Bagginses thinking I'm so old? I…I'm in my prime, hobbit." He grinned, pinching Bilbo's hip lightly as payment for the insult. "I am…eighty-five." Holm finally said, and his eyes widened as he said the number. "I am eighty-five…I suppose in hobbit years that might make me…A little older than you?" He grinned happily, proud to have remembered how old he was.

"Ah…still a gap between us…less impressive than five hundred, though." Bilbo teased.

"Do you love me less for it? Should I apologize for being so young, Master Baggins?" Holm teased right back, his hand lazily drawing patterns on the hobbit's rear, creating more goosebumps as he did so.

"I love you just as much as I did before…perhaps even more…" He hummed happily, nuzzling Holmes chest as they settled into a nice and comfortable silence, basking in the post coital bliss that radiated between them.

"I love you too…" Holm grinned, kissing his blond curls as he closed his eyes, enjoying the sweet smell that radiated off of Bilbo as they lay together in the dark tent, the sounds of the party lulling them to sleep.

Chapter Text

Light seeped through the crack between the ground and the tent, and Bilbo nuzzled closer into Holmes warmth, groaning as the birds were just a bit too loud for his liking.

"Good morning…" Holm mumbled sleepily, rubbing Bilbo's back as the two untangled themselves from one another.

"Does it have to be morning?" Bilbo asked, his voice sounding far less tired than his own.

"I regret that I cannot control the rising of the sun for you, my love…" He yawned, sitting up and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "You sound like you've been awake longer than I have…" He pointed, holding Bilbo's hand in his own.

"I have been…n-not by much…half an hour maybe?" Bilbo muttered, unable to hold Holmes gaze just yet.

"What is it? Did something wake you? W-was it my snoring? I'm sorry…" He apologized quickly, hating the thought of keeping his hobbit from precious sleep, knowing how exhausted he'd been lately.

"No…no…I don't know if you snored or not, I was pretty out of it…" Bilbo snorted, flashing a small smile before it faded again. "It's just…that…it feels as if the night was magical…in the darkness it could be just us…no repercussions or consequences…It was just us and it was perfect…"

"But?" Holm asked, nervous to the point where Bilbo felt his hand grow clammy with fear, and he gave the dwarf a comforting squeeze.

"But the sun shines a light on a glaringly obvious thing we didn't really think about last night…Or more so…the implications of it all…" He blushed, his fingers tapping nervously on Holmes hand, and his nose twitching up and down like a little bunny.

"And what is the implication you speak of?" He asked, his tired mind, though clear of lust and desire, was still addled by exhaustion and love.

"My parents are your best friends, Holm…They love you dearly. I'm sure you know that…I…I don't think they'd be very happy to know that when we finally met, we didn't hesitate to…do what we did…" He blushed profusely, remembering the tender, and not so tender touches from their night in each other's arms.

After a moment, Holm's eyes widened. "…Oh, fuck…" He practically wheezed out as the realization hit him like a rock to the head. How could he not have realized that? They had even spoken of Bella and Bungo throughout the evening, and yet neither of them had stopped to think about how they'd perceive their relationship. Bella had even told him that sex was to wait till marriage, and he still eagerly proceeded with his…with their desires. There was not a single doubt in the dwarf's mind that it was mutual…but still, even if Holm was only a bit older than Bilbo (and he was quite happy to have remembered just how old he was) it was still his responsibility to think clearly…to say that they should stop…should wait…

Bilbo didn't deserve a rushed whirlwind of a romance. He deserved so, so much more.

"I…I…I am so sorry…I didn't think…I should have…I…"

"Shut up." Bilbo said, kissing him softly to silence the dwarf before he could freak out any more. "None of that…Don't say 'sorry' to me, lest you want me to think you regret it…Do you? Regret it…I mean…" He frowned, his nervous tapping growing into nervous scratching. Quickly, Holm intertwined their fingers together, holding the nervous habit at bay before he pulled the hobbit in for another kiss.

"I regret nothing…Truly." He sighed, pressing their foreheads together. "But you're right…it felt as if we were in our own little world…but now it is very clear we are not…I should have tried to think more clearly…With my mind rather than my…well…" He blushed.

"Yes…perhaps you should have…but I am the one who came onto you first…a-and I also wanted it. If you turned me down I'd have died of heart break!" Bilbo insisted, only to cringe a second later as he realized how childish and desperate he sounded…He cleared his throat, and looked at Holm with the most serious expression he could muster. "Perhaps not die…but I'd be very upset about it, to put it mildly. In a perfect world, we'd have been wiser…but the world is not perfect, and I love you even still…even if you think with your cock…" Bilbo snorted, his eyes flashing down to Holmes lap as he noticed they still needed to put their pants back on.

Carefully, Holm helped Bilbo to his feet, holding him steady as he stretched, his back aching from their activities last night. The hobbit winced, moving far too quickly for what his body could handle at the moment, as having your ass pounded into all night, and then sleeping atop a dwarf on the ground, was not the best thing for your bones, it would seem. Yet despite this ache, Bilbo was too stubborn to allow Holm to help put his pants on, making a nasally whine of protest, like one would make at a dog when they tried to eat something they shouldn't.

"I can do that myself, thank you very much!" Bilbo hissed through gritted teeth, mortified and embarrassed with himself. "Oh goodness…I'm going to be in so much trouble…" He groaned, hiding his face in his hands after he finally put his clothes back on. "Last time I didn't come home after a party it was because I'd gotten completely knackered, and fell asleep near an irrigation ditch! My parents were rightly upset, scolding me for days. Of course, I was only a tween when that happened…nearly eighteen, I suppose…but still. Til this day, they're always worried when I go to parties."

Holm couldn't help but chuckle, having heard the story before, but his laugh faded when the guilt of sleeping with his best friend's son sank in once more.

"Can…should…I'd like to walk you home?" Holm offered, though in his heart, he knew it might not be the best idea even if he wanted to hold the hobbit's hand as they made their way to Bag End together.

"No, no…it's alright. I can make it up The Hill on my own. You mentioned that you have some work still to do at your smithy, and I don't want to keep you from that…You've got that deadline…and some package that should arrive today, yes? You can't go ruining your business's reputation simply because you're thinking with your cock again." Bilbo sighed, trying to be playful and make light of their new situation, but it was clear as day that he was conflicted between logic and responsibility, and what his heart wanted.

"Me wanting to walk you home is not me thinking with my…" He blushed, unable to finish the sentence out of embarrassment. "I am thinking with my heart…I love you…But you're right…that deadline is approaching faster than I'd like it to, so I'll be busy until it's done…" He grumbled.

"…I'd like a kiss before we part…if it's all the same to you." Bilbo muttered quickly, gently reaching out to comb out Holmes hair with his fingers.

"I'd never dream of denying you anything…especially a kiss…" He smiled, leaning in and praying that Bilbo could feel every ounce of love he felt for him.

He knew it was quick…too quick. He knew that they should consider this situation a mistake…but they couldn't. Bilbo was everything he'd ever wanted and everything his soul ever needed. He was…

"You are my One…Bilbo. No matter what happens…know that I love you with all my heart…" Holm smiled sweetly, cupping the hobbit's face. The sudden urge to give something person to the hobbit was strong, and he hurriedly felt around his pockets and clothes for something to give to Bilbo as a sign of his love and devotion.

Eventually, he undid one of his side braids, and gave Bilbo the bead that dangled there. They had been a gift…not from Bella or Bungo, but from Old Lady Mistle as a gift for all his help around her smial. 'No dwarf I've ever seen was without these beads in their hair.' She insisted, and ever since he wore them for special occasions.

'Bought them off a dwarf…shady fellow he was. Not that I'm saying dwarves are shady, mind you, you're the sweetest thing since spun sugar, deary…but he was a nervous wreck when I met him, he was. I saw these beads and he expressed how he had no interest in selling them to a dwarf or a man…which I found odd, but didn't question him…He said they're a special kind of silver for important people…and my dear, you need to know just how important you are to all of us here in the Shire. You've made quite a name for yourself in your time here, and we're all happier for it.' She had told him as she gifted him two matching silver beads, though far lighter that the silver he typically worked with, and with beautiful etchings on them of stars and a bird…

They were very special to Holm…one of his few treasured possessions that made him feel like he belonged here…and he could think of no better gift to give to his One.

"I want you to have this. It isn't much…but…please accept it."

"Hobbits don't accept presents for their birthdays…" Bilbo reminded him, though he took the bead in his hands as he inspected it with admiration for how nicely it shimmered.

"It's not a birthday present. It's a courtship gift…I…I'd like to court you, Bilbo Baggins…Properly. I will take the steps necessary to do so…I'll ask Bungo for permission to marry you…I'll do everything it takes…so long as you'll have me…" He smiled, praying that he wasn't making a fool of himself…that he wasn't the only one feeling this way.

"Flowers." Was how Bilbo replied.

"Huh?" The dwarf blinked, his smile faltering slightly as he tried to understand why Bilbo said that.

"Flowers…it's the first thing you need to do to court someone…When you ask their parents for permission…you bring the family flowers. If…If you go to the florist in the market, she'll be able to help you make the proper bouquet…" Bilbo blushed as his hand closed tightly around the bead, holding it close to his heart. "Which is all to say…yes, Holm. I accept. I'll marry you." He smiled gleefully as he gave the dwarf one more kiss, and he could tell by the thickness in Bilbo's voice that though there were many more words to be spoken, if he tried he'd simply burst into tears. "I hope to see you soon…" He sighed, patting Holm's cheek gently.

"Well…tomorrow is Sterday. I'll be at your house for tea…" He smirked as they continued talking on their way to cautiously leaving the tent.

"Ah…well then, I'll see you tomorrow…" Bilbo grinned as they reached the main road, glad that no one spotted them.

"Tomorrow then…" Holm agreed.

He watched as Bilbo parted ways first, turning north to The Hill and Bag End, and Holm headed back south towards his smithy and apartment.

While resting at his work bench, Holm went over the letters from his mailbox, trying not to get worked up about the lack of a delivery on his doorstep. He groaned as he read the current letter, which stated that the silver he needed for the very high paying project would not be able to be sent to him, his supplier in Michel Delving had actually moved to Bree since his last time purchasing silver from him. Now that his supplier had even more business, he didn't want to ship his supplies, especially from such a far distance. Instead, it was insisted that Holm make the trip to him in Bree instead.

Mister Lordo Oldbuck had commissioned a lovely set of silverware as a gift for his wife for their fiftieth wedding anniversary after he'd seen the set he'd made for Bella and Bungo's anniversary, and the deadline was not flexible like his other jobs were. He had been expecting his silver to come in today and to begin working on them, the designs already finished and approved…but now had no time to waste. With a tired groan, Holm began reluctantly packing his travel pack, and closed up shop, writing a note on the window that he will be leaving for Bree, and returning by weeks end hopefully.

As he walked out of his apartment and onto the main street of the market, he sighed, allowing his eyes to drift northward towards Bag End, just a tiny spec on the horizon. He then as he always did when he had to leave urgently. He walked over to where Mister Gamgee was caring for several store front gardens, singing to himself as he worked happily on the petunias under the haberdashery.

"Excuse me! Mister Hamfast!" Holm called out to him, getting his attention.

"Oh! Good afternoon Mister Holm! How goes?" He asked, his cheeks rosy as always.

"It goes…" He sighed, and rolled his eyes. "And I am also needing to go. My order isn't coming in so I've got to go collect it Bree myself." He groaned, having commiserated with Hamfast on many occasions about suppliers not being reliable.

"Oh goodness…you give the word Mister Holm and I'll write them a stern letter, yes I will. I'll tell them that they need to do you better. You're our only blacksmith in town, and they get a good amount of business from you…they need to treat you with more respect, lad." He grumbled, frustrated on Holmes behalf.

"I couldn't agree more…but I've a contract with this seller thanks to Master Baggins, so I cannot look elsewhere till our contract is up…But that being said, I'm leaving for Bree now, seeing as my deadline is coming up soon…Could you deliver this letter to the Bagginses please?" He asked, handing an envelope out to the hobbit, hoping he'd not mind taking it to his neighbor and landlord.

Hamfast smiled with a nod and took the letter before pocketing it. "I can indeed, I'll give it to them on my way home, if you don't mind."

"Of course. Please don't go out of your way for me, just so long as it finds them by tomorrow, as I'll be missing tea and I don't want them to worry…"

"Ah, Mistress Belladonna was quite worried the last time you missed tea…I remember her stomping her way to my house, asking us all if we've seen you…"

"And I simply over slept…"

"By a full day."

"It's all potatoes to me…" Thorin snorted and waved his hand before giving a soft pat the hobbit's shoulder in gratitude. "Unless something gets in the way, I shouldn't be more than two weeks. I'm simply going, picking up my supply, and coming right back. I'll be taking a pony this time too, so it won't be long…if you could just tell them that." Holm added, and Hamfast nodded.

"O'course, o'course…Alright now, I won't keep you any longer. You get going before the sun goes down, you know Mister Goodbody will talk your ear off before getting you your pony and letting you leave."

"Nothing compares to a Shire goodbye, now does it?" He smiled, waving goodbye as he headed off. He couldn't help but smile as he walked. Even though he was upset to leave, wanting nothing more than to head to Bag End rather than the opposite direction, but he knew stopping by to say goodbye in person would delay him by another day at least and so he turned away, pushing himself to ignore the heart ache in his chest.

One hundred and twenty miles was the distance Holm traveled to Bree, and all he did the entire time was think about Bilbo. When he passed the wheat fields, he saw the hobbit's hair, and when he looked to trees who's leaves were challenging Autumn to start early, he saw the hobbit's eyes. In the way wind chimes echoed in the breeze he heard his laugh, and in the taste of mead at the inns he stayed at he could taste Bilbo's lips…and he knew he had it bad.

He was quite glad then, that Belladonna and Bungo did not know yet, for if they did approve of their relationship, he'd never hear the end of their teasing for just how terribly in love he was for Bilbo. He knew if he heard anyone else saying such romantic things about another that he'd rather crawl out of his skin than listen to another minute of it…yet the thoughts didn't cease, and he was happy they didn't as the memory of their shared night kept him going on his lonely ones.

Holm arrived at the Prancing Pony in just under five days. He talked to the stable master and paid for two nights to take care of Raven, his proud and stubborn pony with a mane much like his own, who he had purchased three years ago and had been a loyal companion ever sense. Of course, Holm hadn't actually paid for two nights, as he was planning on leaving as soon as the silver was in his hands…but the men folk of Bree had a tendency to up charge little people who stopped through...

"Hey!" He heard someone call out as he made his way to his supplier, doing his best to walk on the drier parts of the street so his boots didn't get stuck in the mud.

"Hey!" He heard again, the voice louder…but Holm had learned early on in his travels to keep his head down and his hood up as a best defense for being left alone.

"Hey! You!" The voice yelled once more, closer now as he could hear the sound of squelching boots in mud as someone ran towards him.

Instinctive panic set in his bones, worry that he'd done something wrong…or worse that someone thought he had, which oftentimes made it harder to prove one's innocence. So, he kept his pace as he continued forward toward his supplier. Just one more block and down the next left…

"Stop!" The voice demanded, and Holm felt a hand on his shoulder, gripping him tightly and turning him around to face them. Even with their hood on, it was clear to Holm that the person was a dwarf…their beard and hair looking much like his own…his eyes too, not in color but in shape. Holm couldn't help but tilt his head to the side curiously as he waited for the dwarf to say something.

But he said nothing.

Instead, he flung himself at Holm, crying and laughing and crying some more as he held him tightly. Awkwardly, Holm patted his back as he tried to step away from the stranger.

"There there…Umm…it's alright." He said stiffly, feeling uncomfortable with how eyes were being drawn to them. "I'm…sorry you're sad? B-but I really must be going…" Holm stated, gently trying to pry the stranger off of him.

"No! I'm never letting you go again, you stupid, stupid oaf!" They cried, holding onto him tighter.

"I'm sorry, b-but do I know you?" He asked, trying harder now to peel the dwarf off of him.

"…I-it's…it's me! It's your sister! Thorin…don't you recognize me?" He asked, finally pulling away to look in Holmes eyes once more. "Its…its Dis!"

'Sister?' Holm blinked, having never seen a lady-dwarf before, thus mistaking her for a male…but upon closer inspection, her features were softer than his own, and she was a bit shorter…

"Please, big brother! It's me! Please! You…you've been gone so long! Where have you been? We…we held a funeral for you!" She cried, her fists gripping tightly at the front of his cloak as she used him to hold herself up.

"W-wait…funeral? I'm sorry, I truly am…but I do not know you…My…my name is Holm…" He said in a panic, half forgetting that he'd lost his memory up until five years ago.

"No! I know your eyes anywhere…I know you…you're my brother!" She cried out, begging Holm to listen to her. Her cries carried far, drawing onlookers…and also dwarves. Two dwarves rushed toward them as they heard the lady-dwarf crying and calling out, coming to her aid.

"What's happening, Dis?" Asked a low, gruff grumble of a voice, their hood having fallen as they ran, revealing a bald and tattooed head.

"Princess, are you alright?" Asked another, his long, white beard swaying to and fro as he approached them.

Quickly, Holm threw his hands in the air. "I didn't do anything!" He insisted as he saw the look of fury in the eyes of the bald dwarf…a look that changed rapidly from rage to grief to joy to sadness…

"Thorin?" He asked, and it was the white haired dwarf's turn to look at him, staring with wide eyes as he took in the sight.

"Thorin!" He choked out, the two dwarves now holding him on either side with the lady, Dis she said her name was, in the middle.

"Who is Thorin?" Holm grunted out, frustrated and confused… "My name is Holm, and I have business I must attend to!" He insisted, only for the white haired dwarf to start rummaging in his bag, and eventually pulled out a crumpled paper…a drawing of a dwarf…of him, with the dwarf's name and the dwarven word for 'Missing' written in their runes across the bottom.

"Thorin…Oakenshield?" He read, his finger tracing the runes in disbelief. "Explain yourself…" He demanded.

"You…you went missing…five years ago. We searched and searched but never found you…You…Do you remember us? Where…where have you been?" Asked the white-bearded one as he tapped on Dis and the bald one to let go of the uncomfortable dwarf they've accosted.

"Oh…Oh goodness…" He breathed out, feeling rather faint and nervous now.

The bald dwarf snorted, wiping at his tear filled eyes as he listened to Holm mutter in confusion. "Ye' sound like a halfling." He teased, and Holm frowned.

"Hobbit. They're called hobbits, and they're not half of anything, thank you very much." He declared, crossing his arms as he glared down at the dwarf.

"Aye, aye…sorry, sorry…" He snorted. "Is…is that where ye've been? We…we searched…Never found ya…Were you holed up in the Shire of all places?"

"You claim you know me, but I do not know you. How can I be certain the information I give you will not be used against me?" He asked, voice trembling slightly as his long held fears resurfaced. His fear that he had been a bad person…that he should have died the day that Bungo found him…

"Know you? We're your family! We'd…we'd never use anything against you! You're my brother…their cousin!" Dis insisted, lowering her hood to reveal just how strong their family resemblance was.

Stunned and in a daze, Holm didn't really notice as they lead him to the Prancing Pony, taking him to their rented room to talk in private. It was stupid, honestly, following a stranger into their room…and it was even more stupid to follow three highly armed strangers into their room in a dangerous town. But Holm sat in the chair they pulled out for him, and took the warm spiced tea they handed him, and felt comfortable by the fireside as they set some furs over his shoulders.

There was something about the way the three dwarves looked at him that made him feel compelled to speak…to answer their questions…to solve the mystery of his past.

"I…my name is Holm…I am a blacksmith in Hobbiton. I've lived there for five years…" He started off, the tea soothing his nerves. "…I was given the name by my friend and rescuer, Bungo…He said he found me beaten and robbed, propped up against a Holm Oak between Michel Delving and Way moot…he took me to his home where he and his wife nursed me back to health, and cared for me. They're my best friends…my family…I…I need to return to the Shire…" He insisted. "I was only going to stop here quickly to grab my order from Mister Goodbody…"

"Shite lot of good that'll do ya, he's not even here today." Scoffed Dwalin, as he learned the bald dwarf's name to be. "But he's a terrible supplier. Come home with us…ye'll have all the silver ye'd ever need!" Dwalin insisted enthusiastically, and Dis nodded just as eagerly beside him.

"Do…you live in Bree?"

"Hah! Nae, we live in the Blue Mountains…in Ered Luin." Dwalin answered.

"But our home is Erebor…your birthright, Thorin…" Balin, Dwalin's white haired brother, smiled warmly.

"Birthright? Erebor? I'm sorry…I really am…but I'm not following."

"Your name isn't Holm…but it's fitting enough…Your name is Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror…You are our prince…and we had nearly given up hope…" Balin explained, hoping that his long lost prince and cousin wouldn't run away.

"I know it's a lot…but please…believe me…You're my big brother! I've missed you and my sons have missed you! Father has missed you! Our…our brother Frerin has missed you! We've all missed you…Please come home, brother…" Dis begged, and Holm…no…Thorin…

No…He was Holm.

Holm had built a life in the Shire. He had chosen not to find out who he was in favor of living and being happy with his friends. He'd finally found true love…his One…and these people posing as his family were determined to take him away from all that.

"N-no…No thank you. Not today. This is…all very nice and haha, good joke. I do enjoy a good joke now and then…but I must be going now…Good day." Holm rambled, his face flushed as he set his tea down and removed the fur. "Thank you for the tea and the story…truly compelling…but I am not the dwarf you're looking for…" He insisted, nodding his head as if he could truly make them, or himself, believe that at this point.

The three dwarves watched, stumped and bewildered as Holm made his way to the door, and just as he turned the handle, Dis's voice rang out.

"D-don't let him leave!" She ordered frantically, and Holm bolted, running as fast as he could down the corridor with Dwalin on his heels.

"Come back, Thorin!" Dwalin shouted after him, and it was clear that Dwalin was more physically fit than Holm, as he felt winded after trying wrestle his way out of the dwarf's grip when he finally caught him.

"Let me go! Unhand me!" He demanded…and the last thing he saw before a bitter smelling cloth was placed over his mouth was the apologetic look of tear filled eyes.

"We're taking you home…"

Chapter Text

The letter from Holm was upsetting, but Belladonna and Bungo assured Bilbo that the dwarf was simply like that. "He hates missing a deadline. He was depressed for a week when he was only a day late on something, and that was because he was sick!" Bella had explained, comforting Bilbo that his new friend would return soon enough.

The parents were thrilled that their son and best friend had gotten along so well at his party. They'd seen the two share a dance before they themselves were swept off by relatives, but were thrilled to know that Bilbo was just as fond of Holm as they were…and so, they shared stories of him while they all missed the dwarf's presence.

Two weeks turned to three…and by the time a month had passed the Bagginses were determined to find their dwarf. Bungo refused to let Bilbo come with them to Bree, afraid that perhaps Holm had gotten into some fight and was injured. Bree wasn't known to be the safest of places, and Holm wasn't known to be one to back down from injustice, which put him in harms way more times than not.

Yet when they returned a month later, they confessed there was no sign of their friend, except his pony, Raven, who was for sale. Of course they purchased her back for Holm, knowing he'd be upset if she were sold off to some random person…but would it even matter if Holm never came back at all?

"You don't…you don't think the people who…who hurt him five years ago found him…a-and finished the job, do you?" Bilbo asked one day, his heart broken as he clung to the bead he kept on a chain in his pocket.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Bella sniffled, not wanting to say yes or no, for she too feared for the worst, and didn't have the heart to deny the possibility. "We can only hope that he is well…" She comforted him, holding him close as she rubbed his back, a little bewildered as to why her son would be so upset about their friend being missing after only meeting him once during his coming-of-age party.

"We'll find him…" Bungo promised, joining his wife and son as he wrapped his arms around them. "Holm is family…we will make sure he's okay…" He promised.

Posters had been put up on every town bulletin board in the Shire, and Bree as well…but no word came to them of Holm. The three Bagginses had done what they could…but Belladonna herself knew that when someone didn't want to be found, they couldn't be found, reminding Bungo and Bilbo of her brother Hildifons who'd left and never returned, no matter how much searching they did.

And despite their wish to continue the search, it wasn't a month after his parents returned from Bree that Bilbo Baggins fell terribly ill. Every morning without fail, he'd toss up anything in his stomach…be it food or simply bile. He was dizzy and terribly fatigued, and his chest ached something awful…but he refused to go to the doctor.

"I don't want to…I'll get better like I always do…" Bilbo groaned as he sat besides the tub, his head resting cool copper as it eased his ever persistent headache.

"Bilbo Baggins, act your age! The doctor won't hurt you." Bungo insisted, mortified at how sick his son had become with no rhyme or reason to it.

"Just…just give me more time…One more week. If this keeps up, I'll go…" He grumbled before tossing up once again.

Later that week, it was Belladonna who came to sit by Bilbo's side in the bathroom. The cold tiles beneath them seemed to be grounding, helping Bilbo stay present in the moment as he gave his mother a weak smile.

"Good morning…" He sighed, and she could see by the bags under his eyes that he'd not gotten a good sleep yet again.

"Don't you good morning me, mister…" She smiled back, taking a towel in her hand to wipe at Bilbo's mouth. "You need to eat something…you're getting thin." She fretted, not like how hollow he looked in the face.

"Everything makes me feel disgusting…I'm starving, but the thought of eating anything makes me feel as sick as eating it."

"Is there anything that does sound good? I'll go fetch it for you, no matter how far I've got to go." She insisted.

He looked to his mother, raised an eyebrow as he thought about what he might be hungry for.

"Spicy. I want…I want spicy foods." He finally said, the words were as odd to say as they were for his mother to hear.

"You hate spicy food." She snorted, taking it as a jest.

"N-no…I know…but…I want spicy food. Oh! Those…those peppers that Hamfast grows in his garden. I want those!"

"You nearly puked when you ate one accidentally last time!" She reminded Bilbo, feeling bewildered by his behavior.

"I know…but I wasn't expecting it. Now I am. I want a spicy-pepper…A-and peanut butter…" He added, only for his face to contort. "Not together…no…gross…bad thought…" He groaned, gripping his stomach.

"Spicy peppers and peanut butter, not together. Coming right up…" Bella smiled worriedly as she waited for Bilbo to be done in the bathroom before she helped him back to his bed, making sure the bucket was nearby if he needed to be sick again.

When she returned from Hamfast's she carried a plate full of peppers to her son, and in her other hand held a jar of peanut butter. "Try one?" She offered, and Bilbo could see the sheen of sweat on her brow and the red in her cheeks and he knew she'd tried one herself. Cautiously he took one from the plate and took a small bite, ready to feel sick.

"Oh! Oh this is heaven…" He moaned as he devoured the pepper…then another and another…and soon the whole plate was empty, save some juice that had dripped and some seeds that had fallen. After a moment of drinking some water, he took the spoon from his mother and opened the jar of peanut butter and was only satisfied when he finished half the jar.

It was finally then that Belladonna put the pieces together…and she was ashamed it'd taken her so long to realize, but how could she have known? She never knew her son presented…and why would she ever think her son would lay with another before marriage? She took a deep breath and cleared her throat as she sat on the edge of her son's bed and took his hand in hers.

"You know you can tell me anything…Anything. I mean it…I will always love you, and I'll never, ever be ashamed of you." She smiled fondly, and Bilbo simply tilted his head to the side as he did whenever he was confused, nose twitching as he blinked at her.

"Thank you? What brings this on?" He asked, squeezing her hand back.

"I must ask…and please answer honestly…but have you…Oh goodness…You see…have you…ummm…" She had never known herself to be so cowardly. It was a few simple words, and if Belladonna wasn't afraid of wolves, she'd not be afraid of speaking some words.

"Yes, Mother?" He asked, concerned for her now.

"Bilbo…have you…taken someone into your bed…in the past few months?" She asked, squeezing his hand tightly.

"My bed? No…it's hardly big enough to share anymore…" He scoffed at the idea of a sleepover with his cousins, all of them jammed into his single bed like they were faunts again.

"…N-no…what I mean…I mean to say…Have you had sex, Bilbo?" She asked, and then more crudely, but plainly added, "Has someone inserted themselves inside you?" and Bilbo's eyes widened at the question. His cheeks turned bright red and he felt more nervous than when he was preparing to give his birthday speech. He hadn't noticed tears falling from his eyes until Bella wiped them away with her thumb. "Oh my precious boy…" She sighed, leaning in for a hug, holding him close as she rocked him.

"I-is that why I'm sick? Did…did it make me sick?" He asked in a panic, fearing that if he were sick, perhaps he'd gotten Holm sick too.

"In a way…" She smiled a tight lipped weary smile before she continued her questions. "I must ask…You weren't forced into anything, were you?"

"No! Not at all! I…I was…I wanted it." He doubled down, refusing to let his mother think that the mystery person would ever hurt him or force him into something.

"Oh thank goodness…" She sighed in relief, thankful her son hadn't endured something so terrible. "Did you notice…any changes to your body? I don't just mean feelings of wanting to be closer…I more mean…physically, did your body feel different?" She asked next, and Bilbo paused to think.

"I…felt feverish. Like I was on fire…" He confessed as he remembered the moment fondly. "…th-the other…they said that…that I smelled nice…they assumed I had bathed but I hadn't…I didn't tell them that of course…b-but they were very adamant about me smelling…very nice…" He noted, and felt himself grow cold as he knew what those symptoms implied. He'd heard enough about the Proudfoot and Brandybuck lads…

"M-mother…h-have I…did I…p-present?" He asked, throat dry and hoarse at the thought. She didn't answer…she simply hugged him once more.

"My boy…my precious, precious boy…" She sniffled. "Only one way to know…we've got to go to a doctors…a-and we've got to tell your father. He deserves to know you're not dying of some mysterious illness."

"Then what is it I am dying of?" He asked frantically, gripping at his mother's arms now.

"You're not dying…I…well… I do believe you are with child, Bilbo…" She explained. After a moment of silence, she ran off quickly to her office, grabbing a text book off the shelves and brought it to Bilbo's room, giving him the talk.

"N-no…no, no! No thank you! I do not want that! That is terrifying! I am not going to do that!" He panicked, his hands gripping around his belly, and he couldn't deny that despite losing weight, it did feel a little rounder and firmer than before.

When he finally agreed to see the doctor, Bilbo was glad that it was they had to take an oath of confidentiality…not wanting anyone to learn of what had happened.

"Who was it? We must hold him responsible! Or she…I suppose…Come now, Bilbo…tell me who did this to you." Bungo took the news far better than anyone had expected…confessing that so long as Bilbo wasn't dying, he didn't care if he was pregnant…he simply wanted his child to be alive and well. He did, however, demand to know who the sire was.

"No…I'm not saying." Bilbo doubled down, shaking his head and keeping his jaw tight as he tried to steady his breathing.

"Did he forc-"

"He did not force me! I wanted it! I asked for it! I asked him to put it in me willingly! This is my fault… I…I simply don't want anyone to know who he is! Okay?" Bilbo cried, unable to control it as he rubbed at his eyes, his mother rubbing his back consolingly.

"Shhh…it's okay…we'll get through this together…" She promised, and Bungo, letting the matter go for now…though it didn't keep him from observing with suspicion every passing man who looked at Bilbo.

"We can send you off to Tukburrow if you'd like…and when you come back, we can pretend like nothing happened…is that…what you wish?" Bella asked one day as they discussed how Bilbo's belly was becoming noticeable.

"N-nothing happened? I…" He paused, and shook his head. "No…I'm keeping them. They're mine… I want to keep them…" He insisted, holding his belly protectively.

"Raising a child is hard…" Bungo teased, pinching Bilbo's cheek.

"But I've got you both…yes? You…you won't abandon me? Us?" He asked, sniffling as he felt an overwhelming wave of grief crash into him once again.

"Do you want it to be known that the child is yours? By your blood?" Bungo asked, supporting Bilbo with whatever he decided.

"Yes. I…I don't want them not knowing I'm their father…and I don't want them to feel like it is a secret. I…I love his sire…I do…I really really do…and I want them to know he came into this world because of that love…even if he's not here…" He mumbled through his tears.

And so, it was announced that Bilbo Baggins would be expecting a child come April.

The news had come as a shock, and gossip and rumors made for a less than hospitable environment for his pregnancy, as Bilbo could hardly go out in public without being stared at or talked about loud enough for him to hear their insults.

But Bilbo carried himself with pride, as Bella and Bungo both reminded him there was no need to feel shame. They acted as if all was normal…and their attitude towards it all was more infectious than any nasty rumors, and soon enough it was just a normal fact of life that Bilbo Baggins was pregnant, and that was that.

Yet when April came and passed and Bilbo had not yet given birth, even the Bagginses were worried. Compared to other expectant bearers at nine months, Bilbo was larger…which Bungo took as a sign the sire must have been a larger hobbit…Either someone with Stoor blood, as they were stockier than the others…or Fallowhide, as they were taller.

"Burrows?"

"No."

"Puddifoot?"

"No."

"Hayward?"

"No."

"Twof-"

"No! Stop asking! For all that is green and good, father! Please stop asking! I'm not telling! I'll take it to my grave if I must!" Bilbo groaned, hands on his hips as he argued with his father, his raised voice almost acting as a summons. Quickly, the healer entered the room. Not that he hadn't heard the father and son talking, as his elf-ears caught all of it. He simply heard the distress in the bearer's voice and found it necessary to intervene, not wanting the bearer to be under any unnecessary stress.

"Bungo, would you excuse Bilbo and I? There is something I'd like to discuss with him." Elrond spoke calmly. Bilbo didn't wait for permission, and walked with Elrond to their garden where they could speak in private and get some fresh air.

"You really didn't need to come all the way out here…I…I think I know why the child isn't ready yet." Bilbo huffed as he sat on the bench next to Lord Elrond.

"And that reason would be?" He asked, curious.

"D-do dwarves take a longer time to be born?" He asked softly, his voice hardly a whisper at all as he looked up at Elrond with nervous eyes.

"They do…typically seventeen months…But as your child is a hobbit and a dwarf…It will not be as long. You're not the first, nor will you be the last hobbit to carry a dwarf's child. In my research, I have found three from Breeland in the last two centuries. Though the papers never said how long they carried for. I for one, am confident your child will be born in late September." He smiled down at Bilbo tenderly, enjoying the small giggle the hobbit let escape his lips.

"Is that funny?" Elrond asked, grey eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"In a way…my birthday is September twenty-second. I always thought it'd be wonderful to share a birthday with someone important to me."

He smiled, his hands gently rubbing his belly, feeling overwhelmingly happy to feel the signs of life beneath his skin…a small hand pressing against his own, and even a kick to his ribs was welcome proof of his and Holm's love and the life they made together.

"Sharing a birthday means sharing attention. And there is nothing that gets a family's attention more than a cute new addition. I could simply hand the child off to whoever, and sleep for the rest of the week and no one would notice." He smiled, enjoying the feeling of the wind rustling through his hair as he tilted his head back, only to cringe at another uncomfortable kick. "Oh, how I wish I could sleep for a week…they've not let me sleep a full night since they've made themselves known…" Bilbo grumbled, though the smile remained.

"Well, I hope he lets you get some sleep soon, and I hope he is born September twenty-second."

"You said 'he'…Is it a 'he'? Am…am I having a son?" Bilbo asked with eager eyes, and when Elrond gave another nod, Bilbo hugged him happily, squealing with joy as he was ready to break the news to his parents.

Elrond, being a professional, had not told Bungo or Bella who the sire was. He told them to their face that it was only their business if Bilbo wanted it to be…He did not explain why the pregnancy was taking longer than normal, only that it was completely normal and healthy…

And so, when September twentieth came and went, then the twenty first, Bilbo was thrilled when his water broke in the early morning of the twenty-second. His labor was long and painful…several midwives bustled around Bag End with buckets of water and clean towels, as Bilbo's cries of pain echoed through the halls.

Bilbo's sobs finally subsided when he heard the beautiful cry of life from his son. He was bigger than any other baby the midwives had ever seen, and praised Bilbo for doing a job well done…amazed that he was able to handle this for a full twelve months.

Swaddled gently in a blanket made for him, his son squirmed and stretched as he cried, very upset about the change in his living situation. Bilbo, despite the exhaustion, smiled brightly, and held his arms out for the baby. Bella placed her grandson in Bilbo's arms, helping him hold the child properly before pulling away, crying quietly as she and Bungo took in the sight of their son and grandson, pride and love welling within them.

"What's his name?" Bella asked hours later, after Bilbo had gotten some sleep.

"Frodo…His name is Frodo…"

"I'd like to send word to my friends…please." Holm…no…Thorin, had said nervously as he approached his father, the King Under the Mountain…even if they weren't under that mountain any longer.

"Denied." Thrain rejected with a wild look of fear in his eyes. He rushed from his throne and swiftly pulled Thorin into his arms, holding him close. "I'm not letting them get their hands on you. You're safe with us now…don't worry…it's okay…" He insisted, petting his son's hair with a trembling hand, only for Frerin to gently pull Thorin from their father's grasp.

"Thank you for your time, father…We'll be on our way." Frerin bowed, wrapping his arm over Thorin's shoulders as he guided his brother out of the throne room and into the halls once more.

"Why? Why can't I…they mean no harm! They're the reason I survived! They deserve to know I'm alright!" Thorin insisted, feeling weighed down with guilt and frustration, and the many many layers that he now wore.

"We don't know that!" Frerin argued back for the dozenth time.

"But I do! I know that!" Thorin insisted, eyes wide and pleading for his little brother to understand. "Do you not trust me?" He dared to ask.

"You were gone for five years, brother! You never even tried to find us! To find who you were! You may trust them…but how do you know you weren't simply convinced to trust them? Indoctrinated into their ways so that they could take advantage of you? Even more so…how do you know it wasn't your friend who had harmed you in the first place!"

"Bungo couldn't hurt a fly!"

"So you think!" Frerin challenged as the brothers walked to their family's chambers. "Do you know how many accounts there are of captives being convinced their captors are as pure as Mahal himself? How many times do you learn of the Blacklocks being rescued from the Easterlings?" Frerin asked as he ushered Thorin inside the comfortable room.

Though he had mixed feelings on the matter when he first arrived in Ered Luin, he certainly felt more at home surrounded by stone. His mind was more at peace, and he felt more secure and safe. But that feeling did not ever lead him to thinking that his happy life in the Shire had been a farce. For even though the stone walls were a balm on his weary soul, the couch he sat on with his brother was nothing compared to a hobbit's armchair.

"The Enemy has always been known to warp minds and confuse hearts…There is not a chain made of any metal that is stronger than one's mind and heart being ensnared. Tell me, Thorin…were you given promises of happiness and love?" Frerin asked softly, his voice genuine and full of sympathy and care.

"Y-yes…of course I was. My friends wanted nothing less than that for me…A hobbit's main goal in life is happiness and pleasure…"

"How…hedonistic…" Dis snorted as she made her way from her spot in the corner of the room to the couch, sandwiching Thorin between her and Frerin.

"Not at all!" Thorin argued, affronted at the term being used to describe the loving and kind people that cared for him. "They know more than any other people the concept of moderation…Too much of a good thing is a bad thing and so on…" Thorin tried to explain…tried to defend hobbits and their way of life to his siblings, but they seemed unwilling to trust his word just yet.

"Brother…thralls like the Blacklocks knew not of their imprisonment…Their minds had been molded to think that they were on the right side of things…That the Easterlings were their friends. You…you might not remember our exodus from our home…but we crossed paths with a handful of Blacklocks on our travels…each one trying to convince us to go East…Telling us we'd never have to worry about shelter or food ever again…Such promises were enough to convince some of our people to leave us. We had nothing after the attack…and the Easterlings were promising safety and comfort…

"When they're finally free of their enchantment they're able to see with clear eyes that it was not safety nor freedom they'd been given…they'd been bound in servitude to the Enemy." Frerin explained, his heart aching as he recalled the dreadful tales, remembering the joy when he saw one of his dearest friends be brought back to him, not just physically, but mentally…when his eyes shone clearly once more with realization of all that had occurred to him when he had left their clan for the offered safety in the East.

"My eyes are not covered by corruption, Frerin!" Thorin argued, opening his eyes wide as if to prove he could see clearly. "The Shire is not our enemy! Hobbits are not our enemy!"

"Everyone is our enemy, Thorin!" Dis yelled, her fists balled up tightly on her lap as she looked down in rage. "Your time away has muddled your mind into thinking we can trust others…but you'll learn soon enough that you were wrong. No people but our own have ever helped us…You experienced it yourself, have you not? In Bree you're treated terribly simply for being a dwarrow."

"But in the Shire, I'm not! I'm perhaps stared at for being taller and more…covered in hair…but no one cares! After I became acquainted with others, I…I became one of them…"

"You are a dwarf, Thorin!"

"I know what I am! But can you please, just for a moment, accept that perhaps Hobbits are actually accepting? That they actually cared for me?"

"If they cared, then why did they never try to help you find us?" Frerin asked with a heartbroken look that Thorin didn't dare glance at.

"I asked them not to. I was afraid…I knew nothing of my past, brother…for all I knew, I should have died when I was found. I…thought that perhaps I was a criminal who deserved to be beaten to death…that maybe my being cared for in the Shire was a second chance at life…to be good and do better than I did before…If I so much as tried to contact you all…if I had been a criminal…then what? I'd go to the dungeons? I'd be executed? I didn't know and I was scared…" Thorin confessed, his knee shaking as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs as he held his head in his hands.

"So…if you had been a criminal, you chose to be a coward and live a new life than own up to your wrongs?" Dis asked, feeling disgusted at the thought of her brother, who she always knew to be brave and loyal and honorable…to be so…spineless.

"Yes! Yes I did! I chose happiness! I chose myself…and all I've learned about myself since I've returned is that I never had before…I chose myself for once."

"You are a prince! We do not get the luxury of choice." Frerin bit out, angry at his brother…angry at life.

"So…that's why I'm here? That's why you stole me back from my life…because you were jealous that I had one of my own?" He asked, angrily rising to his feet as he felt rather violent at the moment.

"Jealous? Hardly! You weren't truly happy! You just thought you-"

Thorin threw a punch. He'd never remembered ever punching someone before, though it was obvious he had. He'd been told about how he was a strong warrior, even if he didn't know it. He'd been told about the fist fights he'd get into defending his family, or to earn coin in more seedy areas on their travels…but he couldn't recall what it felt like to release his anger through violence.

He didn't like it.

Trembling, Thorin took a deep breath in, holding it before releasing it, just as Bungo had walked him through many times before, telling him it was okay to be upset…but it was never okay to take it out on others, especially with violence.

He wondered if Bungo would still believe that after hearing Frerin's words.

Though his family claimed he was a prisoner of the hobbits, it wasn't until he arrived in Ered Luin that he'd ever been locked up. In his room, grand and fit for the crown prince, Thorin laid on his bed, staring up at the stones on the ceiling. For punching his brother and trying to escape (which involved trying to steal a pony, as he had no memory on how to ride a ram) he'd been forced to stay in his room. But, as they said, it was simply for his own good. His own protection.

And he hated that he knew this to be what his family and people truly believed.

He hadn't wanted to believe anything he'd been told when he first arrived in Ered Luin, but the evidence was irrefutable. He'd been taken to his memorial statue…he saw the trinkets laid at the base. Shining rocks and precious gems that his people had laid at his feet. There was no denying that the statue was of him. Not of Holm but of Thorin Oakenshield, the proud crown prince of Durin's folk…Hero of Azanulbizar when he was only Seventy…

In his room were books and stories he remembered having read. There were scents that were too familiar to pretend they were new. He and his siblings were practically carbon copies of each other, even though Frerin's coloring was golden where he and his sister were more obsidian.

There were his nephews. His adorable, charming nephews.

Fili and Kili were still young, but they cried happily and bombarded him with hugs when they saw him again…and holding them in his arms just felt right. These weren't just his nephews, but his boys. His gut instinct was right, as he was later told that Dis's husband Vili had died fighting along side Thorin in the war…That it was him and Frerin who helped raise the boys in his stead.

That it was Thorin who lead their people while their father, their King suffered with grief of the loss of their mother and his father. That even now, the King still struggled, his mind not the same, especially when Thorin disappeared five years ago. He'd been terrified that he'd lost his eldest…so Thorin could truly understand why he was so reluctant to let him go back to the Shire…even in writing.

When he was finally let out of his room, he had sat down with his siblings as well as Balin and Dwalin, and finally gave in.

"I will do my best to be happy here. But you must also understand that I will return to the Shire someday…when I've convinced you to trust them. For even if my family is here, my heart remains there…and I will not abandon him."

Chapter Text

Bungo Baggins had his suspicions.

Of course he did. He was clever and witty and wise…that, mixed with Belladonna's sense for adventure and tendency to be impatient was exactly why Bilbo Baggins was the way he was.

As he held his grandson in his arms, he knew very well that he would be the perfect combination of his own parents. He'd never seen such dainty feet on a hobbit, not even a tiny babe like Frodo. Nor did any faunt on the Baggins or Took sides ever have such peach fuzz on their face, with out a single spec of it on their feet. In fact, this babe's feet were so small and so soft that they had to give them socks to keep them from getting cold!

Socks! On a hobbit!

That was the first clue that Bungo decided to ignore.

"O'pa?" Frodo said softly when he approached Bungo at his desk one day. For a four year old, he was the height of a six year old, and Bungo had no room to question it, because it made the boy the perfect height for head pats when he came up to his drafting desk to say hello.

Bungo looked down at the young lad, smiling happily at the way the boy's button nose scrunched up and twitched like Bilbo's did. He reached out his hand, slowly becoming more withered by the year, and ruffled the boy's curls. Unlike Bilbo and Bungo, who's curls would fall back into place after getting ruffled like that, Frodo's did not. Instead, his hair would frizz and stand on end a bit, and it made for the most amusing of hair styles when he did not fix it.

"What's on your mind, boy?" He asked, scooping the child up and setting him on his knee when he held his arms up to the old hobbit. Frodo nuzzled into his grandfather's hold then, and closed his eyes.

"Sleepy…" He mumbled cutely. "Miss you…" He yawned as he adjusted himself to be comfortable. Bungo rolled his eyes as he scooted the chair closer to his drafting desk so they could sit together. With one arm, Bungo held the faunt, and in the other, his pencil as he continued his work on his latest design. Sleepily, Frodo watched as his grandfather drew the elegant archways and spacious pantries of a smial that was to be built for Desi and Syd Brandybuck, who had asked Bungo specifically to design a home for their ever growing family.

As Frodo watched, keeping his hands respectfully to himself, as he'd been told enough to do so, Bungo's own eyes drifted from the papers and tools on his desk to the way his grandson's hair fell forward, his ears poking out from the black curls. If they were to be considered 'leaf shaped' at all, it was obvious the leaf was an aspen, all round with a small point, versus his own, which was more akin to a birch tree, sharper at the end than the boy's.

This was the second clue he'd been ignoring.

The third was his smaller appetite, as compared to the bottomless pit Bilbo had been growing up, Frodo only seemed to have room for five small meals a day with hardly any snacks in between!

Then the fourth hint was was how little peach fuzz started to grow thicker and darker right in front of his ears…by the time Frodo was six years old, he was sporting some lovely whisp-like sideburns, which he was very happy about, because, as he told everyone, it made him look more like his great grandfather, the Old Took.

The two of them got along like a house fire, and were inseparable whenever they visited each other. Needless to say the poor lad was heartbroken when Gerontious passed away at the ripe old age of one hundred and sixteen years old. Bungo had unintentionally eavesdropped on a conversation between Frodo and his father after the funeral, and it stung to hear the poor boy's weeping and the hiccups that came along with it.

"But why is he in the ground?" Frodo sniffled as he wiped his eyes, the tears unending. Bilbo gave a sad smile, his own eyes just as red from his own grief, and he handed Frodo a handkerchief.

"When someone leaves us…they leave their body too…O'Papa wasn't there anymore…and by putting his body in the ground, we're able to remember him whenever we see the trees growing strong and tall, or flowers blooming beautifully in the spring…" Bilbo explained, never realizing how hard it'd be to explain such a thing, as he'd been lucky as a child, with very few funerals to attend despite the size of his family. By the time he attended his first funeral, he was aware and fully understanding of death.

"I…I know…I…" He hiccuped again, and Bilbo helped wipe the snot running from his nose as he tried to catch his breath before speaking again. "B-but why the ground? It…it feels wrong…Why does it feel wrong?"

"Oh my sweet boy…I don't know why. I'm sorry…Do you know what would feel more right for you?" Bilbo asked, unlike many parents, he'd never been afraid to admit when he didn't know or understand something, just as Bella and Bungo had done for him.

"…There are no rocks…O'Papa needs rocks…" He sniffled, his blue eyes swimming with resolve.

"Well then, if you think O'Papa needs some rocks, then I'm sure he'd love it if we took him some rocks…We've still got some daylight…do you want to ask O'pa and O'Ma if they want to give him some rocks with us?" He asked, knowing how much Frodo adored his grandparents, always wanting to do everything with them included.

That evening, before the sun went down the Baggins family had found the prettiest rocks they could find, and placed them atop the Old Took's grave. Frodo's crying stopped then, and he smiled as he looked at their hard work as the sun set below the horizon.

"Feel better, my boy?" Bilbo asked, holding Frodo's hand.

"Mhmm…O'Papa will feel better now too…We all need rocks when we die…" He said, his voice young and innocent, which only made his words much more unsettling. But kids had their own way of processing death, and if this is what helped Frodo accept and understand the loss of his great grandfather, then they would smile and nod.

When the families all came together for the meeting with the Executor, it had to be done outside by the Tukburrow party tree. The Old Took had had twelve children, most of which had their own, and some of which had their own as well…so the meeting ended up being more of a family reunion. Needless to say, Frodo and the other young faunts were very confused…but none more so than Frodo. The boy enjoyed a good story, and had recently been reading a history book with his Grandmother about a tyrant king.

"…Are we going to die, Papa?" Frodo asked Bilbo with a tremble in his squeaky voice. Bilbo blinked in confusion before lifting the lad up into his arms to speak to him more closely and comfortingly.

"We all die someday, Frodo…I'm sorry…" He said, ignoring the way Bungo threw his palm to his face in exasperation, bewildered at how his son, someone with such a silver tongue, could speak so plainly to a child like that. But he was even more surprised at how well the boy took the revelation.

"I know…but are we going to die today?" He asked, holding tightly to his father's shoulders as if to protect Bilbo from the possibility.

"Today? I should hope not…why would you think that?" He asked, smiling gently as he rocked back and forth to sooth the boy as he readjusted him to be more on one hip.

"We're going to meet the executor…" He mumbled, eyes darting left and right as if keeping an eye out for such a person.

"Oh, Frodo, no!" Laughed Bilbo, unable to hold back his amusement, and neither were his grandparents as Bella pulled Frodo into her own arms.

"The Shire has no nasty kings and no need for executions…not like in the story…" She assured the boy, who took her word as law (as Bungo and Bilbo always assured him was the right thing to do).

"The word 'execute' can have many meanings…the root word comes from the old Adûnaic word 'exsecut', which simply means to put something into action…so to say." Bungo explained as he ruffled the boy's hair before taking him from Belladonna, hogging him from anyone else, as he tended to do.

"…So…the meeting…is going to have a man…o-of action?" Asked Frodo, tilting his head to the side as he enjoyed learning about lore and language from his grandfather very much.

"In a way, yes. the 'man of action' is what we can an 'executor'…which is different from an 'executioner'…do you know what the difference is?" Bungo asked as Bella and Bilbo watched on with affection, amazed at how smart Frodo was, and loving seeing such tender moments between the two, especially in times such as these.

"Umm…one of them kills people." Frodo said bluntly, nodding his head as he pretended to hold a big ax, slashing downwards with a warriors battle cry. "But…I don't know who is who…" He confessed sheepishly, earning a snicker from his grandmother and father, while Bungo remained very serious as he continued his lesson.

As the Bagginses walked to the meeting with the executor, Frodo finally understood that they were not going to die…but instead, a very nice hobbit was going to tell them all what the Old Took had written in his will. The Great Smials need not be even mentioned, as the role of 'head of house' always fell to the eldest child, so Isengrim III became the new 'head of house', and was celebrated thusly.

That was a given and was not surprising in the slightest…what was surprising was what came last. After small gifts were handed out to his plethora of grandchildren and great grandchildren and so on, each with a happy smile on their face as they had a trinket to remember him by, the executor cleared his throat to begin the proceedings of the most important part of this meeting. Not only important for the families…but all of the Shire.

As Frodo held onto his grandfather's jar of marbles, admiring how they shone and shimmered, unable to tear his eye away from the glass for even a second, the executor opened up the next envelope.

"My dearest loved ones, for I hope you now how dearly you are all loved…and I hope, in my time in these lands, I was able to show it is not just my family I love, but the Shire herself. Her rolling hills and green fields are as much my legacy as my children and their children and so on…In my time as Thain, which has been quite a long time, I never met another who's love and care for these lands matched, and sometimes outmatched, my own.

In 1316, it was my absolute pleasure to become the mentor to my dearest grandson, Bilbo Baggins. For seven years, I had shown him all there was to know about being the Thain…about caring for the land and the people and all that lies between. He has brought me more pride than I ever imagined I could have in a successor…as I doubt my own father felt as keen about me taking on the role of Thain…There is no one more suited for the job. No one more dedicated, and no one more deserving.

Bilbo, my lad…you have worked hard to get to where you are today…As a family we have watched you sprout and bloom into the caring and kind young man you are…and to watch you become a father before the Lady Yavanna takes me has been a blessing beyond compare. So, for me…take care of the Shire as much as you care for little Frodo…Good luck."

There was only silence after the words were spoken…even the birds had stopped their tweeting in favor of listening in on such a shocking announcement. Or perhaps, Bilbo simply couldn't hear the chirping as the ringing in his ears reached a fever pitch…He couldn't hear anything, despite seeing the many hands clapping together and mouths open wide as they cheered, as family all rushed to congratulate him, going so far as to toss him up into the air as if it were his birthday.

"Wh-what? What? I…I couldn't possibly…What?" Bilbo babbled, looking around at his family as he was finally put down, the sea of hobbits parting to allow Bilbo a clear path to the stage to the executor. His feet moved without his permission, leading him forward and up the steps, and before he knew it, in his hands was the Thain's Book, and atop that was the key to the library which housed all the journals that came before it.

Suddenly, he felt something on his head, flattening his curls and resting just above his ears. Quickly, Bilbo lifted his hand to feel what was on his head, and he had no reason to be shocked when he realized it to be the wooden circlet that was passed down from Thain to Thain ever since the position had been made…the circlet having been a gift from the King of Eriador himself, welcoming hobbits into the Shire.

"…I…I'm the Thain?" Bilbo asked, blinking at the executor, pointing at himself as if perhaps the hobbit was blind, and put the circlet on the wrong hobbit. What an embarrassing thing that'd have been to do…but it'd make more sense than making Bilbo the Thain…

His apprenticeship with his grandfather had been a way for him to prepare himself for becoming the head of the Baggins estate when the time came, as he learned all Bungo had to teach him up until then…it was not for him to become Thain, of all people…

Yet the way his family, all of them, looked up to him with pride and joy in their eyes, he felt that maybe, just maybe, his grandfather had been right.

"Speech!" One cousin called out.

"Give us a speech!" Another joined in, and then suddenly the whole crowd was cheering for him to say something on the matter.

Looking out at the crowd, he felt his knees go weak and his tongue go dry, stage fright getting to him once more, just as it had all those years ago when he turned thirty-three. Swallowing hard, he looked over the heads of his family, avoiding their eyes as he took a deep breath.

But there was no dwarf standing on his lonesome in the back of the crowd to give him confidence…Quickly, his eyes began to dart around, taking in the sight of the expectant faces, the urge to run hitting him hard.

"I love you, Papa!"

Bilbo's eyes landed on his family…and he couldn't help but grin as Belladonna put Frodo on her shoulders so he could watch clearly as his father became the head of their lands. He saw his boy's blue eyes and black hair and smiled, knowing in his heart of hearts that even if Holm wasn't there, that Frodo was there…and he couldn't ask for more.

"I love you too, my boy!" He called out, waving back at Frodo who giggled happily, nearly falling off of Belladonna's shoulders if it wasn't for Bungo holding him up. He felt a surge of confidence then…not from Frodo, nor his parents…not even the words of his grandfather's will. No, this confidence was from himself…and upon realizing that, he took a deep breath and began to speak.

"The fact that you lot seem to think that this was an expected turn of events just goes to show how deep in the dirt I've kept my head up in Hobbiton." He began, laughing to himself, and smiling when the other laughed as well, snorting when he saw his cousin Flambard nodding very dramatically with a big, dumb smile on his face. "Oh stop it, your head's gonna fall off." Bilbo teased with a wide grin, surprising himself how natural it felt rather than the practiced and stiff one he'd worn on his birthday.

"There is nothing more comforting than knowing that I made the Old Took proud. I could walk away today, and return home to Bag End empty handed without a care in the world, and still be satisfied with just knowing that. But, instead, I am now burdened with responsibility, which is a disgusting thing really…You lot were given pieces of his heart and life…I was given his many piles of paperwork…so all in all, I think I got the short stick. But despite it all, I will do my best as he hoped I would…and I hope you all will support me as well…May our hills always be rolling, our harvests always be plentiful, and our hearts always be young, now and for always!"

"Now and for always!" The hobbits cheered back, clapping happily as the meeting with the executor quickly became a party celebrating the Old Took's life, and ringing in the reign of a new Thain.

Word spread faster than weeds, and by the time the Bagginses arrived back at Bag End there was already another grand celebration awaiting the new Thain. Well…what Bilbo would consider a grand celebration, at the very least. The Gamgees had made a delicious feast for the Bagginses, and a cake for Bilbo to commemorate such an important occasion.

"We'll be sad to see you moving…" Came the sad sigh of Hamfast's wife as she held onto Belladonna's arm as they sat on the couch together. "But we'll keep in contact, yes?" Bell Gamgee asked Belladonna, tuning out the loud playing of her second youngest, Samwise, as he and Frodo played pretend, running around Bag End pretending to be knights from Bilbo's and Bungo's fairy stories.

"Move?" Belladonna asked, tilting her head much like Bilbo does when he's confused, only to understand seconds later. "Oh! Oh goodness, no! We're not moving at all!" She reassured her friend, patting her hand gently.

"Oh thank goodness! Is it just Master Bilbo and little Frodo going to Tukburrow then?" Bell asked next. "Sam will miss him terribly…"

"I am staying right here, thank you very much!" Bilbo called out from the other room as he, Bungo, and Hamfast all enjoyed some pipeweed and a good drink together, the smell of Old Toby wafting out of the room, only for the wives to hurriedly open up more windows and close that door.

"Well, if you're gonna 'stay right there' you can keep the door closed! The boys don't need any of that smoke, for Yavanna's sake!" Belladonna scolded with Bella right behind her as they both glared at the men.

"Yes, yes…sorry…sorry…" The men huffed, knowing that they'd puffed out enough smoke rings for the night anyways, and put out their pipes before airing out the room.

"As I was saying," Bilbo said, opening the door once the smoke had been cleared, even if the strong smell lingered. "I am staying. Both me and Frodo are. I need not work at the Great Smials to be Thain. If the Old Took could have his office in his home, then I can do the same. All the important things I need are going to be sent up, and if I need anything else, I can either get it myself or have someone fetch it for me." Bilbo explained, relieved no one pushed back too much on Bilbo working from Hobbiton and not Tukburrow.

"Well that's splendid! Here I was worried I'd have to ask you to take Sam…he'd be a menace without his Mister Frodo to take care of." She teased as they all glanced down the hall, seeing how Sam was now helping Frodo up from falling, as his socks made him slip and fall when running around the halls, and his toes were far too cold to be barefoot.

"Well, I can tell you know that the Great Smials has too many faunts as it is, and bringing any more to those halls would cause the walls to explode, I've no doubt. No, we're staying here, and I'd have it no other way." Bilbo smiled as he watched Sam bow to Frodo as they played, calling him 'my prince' now that he was the son of the Thain.

Belladonna made sure that being a 'prince' didn't get to Frodo's head, as he quite enjoyed thinking he was akin to the stories where princes saved princesses, and slayed dragons, and fought in large battles. He preferred those tales over any of the softer ones Bungo tried to offer him these days. By the time Frodo was nine, he made it known he didn't like 'little kid stories' at all, as he was a big kid now (seeing as he was several inches taller than some of his older cousins), and big kids only read stories about knights and princes and wars.

It didn't help that Bilbo enjoyed telling the tale of Bullroarer Took and the Battle of Greenfields, seeing as it was the only story of hobbits in any sort of battle, on record at least. Frodo adored the tale, and would always play golf with his grandfather because of it, even if none of the clubs fit him quite yet.

"Too bad they're not goblin heads…" Frodo sighed as he watched Bungo and some of his friends playing out in the fields.

"I should certainly hope they're not goblin heads!" Gasped Longo Sackville-Baggins, Bungo's younger brother.

"They'd not be very aerodynamic, now would they?" Rudigar Bolger, Bungo's brother-in-law, nodded very sagely as he made a silly face at the young boy who giggled away.

Bungo had given his brother Longo a terrible tongue lashing when Bilbo was first announced to be pregnant, and again when Frodo began growing up looking a little less hobbity than most. He had no idea how his brother had somehow misconstrued propriety as bigotry.

"Can we not speak about goblin heads, please and thank you." Longo grumbled, glancing back at his own grandson who was only two years younger than Frodo. "Get away from him, Lotho!" He snapped, not intending to sound so harsh at his son, and despite his prejudices, his heart twinged with a brief sense of guilt as the two young boys looked up at him with sad, confused eyes…but being good Bagginses (or a Baggins and a Sackville-Baggins), they didn't argue and they separated sadly.

"They're just faunts, Longo…" Rudigar sighed in annoyance. "Don't go spreading your narrow mindedness to your grandson before he can even read properly…" He reprimanded lightheartedly, not wanting the boys to hear their seniors speaking in such ways.

But Longo had had enough. For nearly a decade he had 'put up' with this 'situation' and he couldn't stand how everyone acted as if it was all right as rain. He threw his club to the ground in a most undignified manner, glaring at their little golfing group, which also had his younger brother Bingo, and another brother in law, Bodo Proudfoot.

"I can't help but think you lot have perhaps opened your minds too much!" He practically shrieked, sounding very much like his wife Camilla. "I cannot continue acting as if all of this is normal! How could your son," Longo glared at Bungo, "Who had a…a…a dwobbit out of wedlock become the Thain of our lands? That's not even the part that's most confusing! How can you act as if it's just another hobbit! As if it-"

Bungo didn't condone violence.

But he also didn't condone anyone insulting his family.

"Call my grandson 'it' one more time and I'll have you and yours ousted from town, do you understand me, brother?" Bungo grunted through gritted teeth, his breathing heavy as he glared down at his younger brother who was flat on his back and staring up at the sky, the wind knocked out from him as he held his hand to his bloody nose.

"Y-you punched me!" He shrieked in pain and surprise.

"And I'll do it again! Common sense doesn't seem to stick in your mind anymore, and neither do manners. Now get off of my field. You are no longer welcome. Take Lotho back home, and while you're at it, apologize to him for having such an ass for a grandfather. Leave. Now!" He growled, having never felt so angry in his life, yet still feeling a sense of triumph as his sniveling brother scrambled away, grabbing poor Lotho as they left the golfing grounds.

That night at Bag End, Belladonna tended to Bungo's reddened knuckles, and once she had his hand bandaged, she kissed there softly, proud of her husband for defending their family, even if it meant resorting to violence…As Bungo sat tiredly with his wife, their foreheads resting gently together and occasionally nuzzling noses, they could hear Bilbo and Frodo in the library.

"Papa?" Frodo asked, looking up at Bilbo with a look of unease and uncertainty as he tugged on Bilbo's pant leg.

"Yes, my boy?" He asked, not knowing of the events that took place at the golf course, as Bungo had just said he'd scraped his knuckles.

"…What's a 'dwobbit'?" He asked with an sadness in his voice. "Is…is it a bad thing? A-am…am I a bad thing, Papa?" He asked as his bottom lip began to quiver and his eyes began to well with tears.

"Frodo…never…never think in a million years that you are a 'bad thing'…you are the best thing that has ever happened to me…" Bilbo promised as he fell to his knees at the words, and pulled Frodo into a tight hug. "You are not a bad thing at all…Where on earth would you get that thought?" He asked, holding Frodo's chubby cheeks, daring the boy to hide the truth from him as he stared into his eyes.

"Uncle Longo…He said that…'it' is a 'dwobbit' and that it isn't normal…Am I an 'it', Papa?" He asked as he stared at the ground, feeling an undeserved sensation of guilt spread through his little body, as if he'd committed some sin by simply existing. "Am I…am I a 'dwobbit'? What's a 'dwobbit'?"

"You are not an 'it'…You are my sweet sweet boy…my child who I will love no matter what. Your Uncle Longo, on the other hand, is a cad." Bilbo said bluntly as he sniffled and wiped at his own eyes. "You know, he didn't like me either, simply because your O'ma is a Took! Can you believe it?" Bilbo spoke softly, and chuckled when Frodo's little hands wiped away the tears that ran down his cheeks.

"Do you need a handkerchief?" Frodo asked his father, and Bilbo shook his head.

"No…I'm alright…"

"Did I make you sad?"

"You did nothing of the sort…You are only capable of bringing me happiness, never forget that. But…I do think it is time we had a talk…" He sighed, standing up and scooping the boy into his arms, finding it harder and harder year by year to pick up his ever growing son.

He had leaned into the other room, asking his parents to come and sit with them by the hearth, thinking it'd be the most comfortable place to hold such a heavy conversation. Bilbo walked off to his room, and returned only moments later carrying a chain with something lovely and silver hanging from it.

There were many ways Bilbo had planned on having this conversation…as he knew it was an inevitability and accepted it as such…but the way his heart pounded and his head spun, he couldn't quite thing of any of those speeches…all he could say was:

"Please don't hate me, Papa," Bilbo blubbered out as he held the silver bead tightly in his hand, tears falling from him that he'd long tried to hold back. He shouldn't cry over this…for this was nothing to be sad or ashamed of. Yet the tears flowed anyways, and Bungo held his son as if he were just a faunt again, rocking him back and forth as he rubbed his back, trying desperately not to cry himself.

"Shhh…Bilbo…I could never hate you…No matter what…" Bungo promised, kissing Bilbo's curls as he tried to soothe both of them. When they finally stopped crying, he knew the conversation needed to happen, as poor Frodo was sitting in Belladonna's lap looking more scared than a cat seeing a cucumber.

"Alright, Frodo…" Bilbo began when he was finally sitting across from his son. "I think you're old enough to know about your sire…"

The boy didn't seem too terribly upset about being a dwobbit, which he realized was just a faster way of saying half dwarf, half hobbit. In fact, what he knew about dwarves was how strong and brave they were, so he couldn't help but cross his arms, puff out his chest, and jut out his jaw ever so slightly.

"It all makes perfect sense, Papa, seeing as I am the bravest and strongest in this house. Of course it's because I'm a dwobbit." He said with the acceptance that only a child could muster so easily.

"You're also the most modest." Belladonna teased.

"That too. I'm very modest. And smart! See! I've got the best of both, right?" Frodo grinned brightly, earning snorts of laughter from his three guardians.

"Indeed you do. The cream of the crop you are." Bungo nodded firmly.

"So…who…who is my sire?" Frodo asked, having only been told that he was a dwarf.

Until the name was spoken, there was always the chance, no matter how terribly slim, that it could have been just some random dwarf some random night. But surprises had become commonplace and no longer phased the Bagginses, and they knew the truth that their son had kept to himself all these years.

Bilbo looked to Bungo and Bella, his lips in a tight, thin line, his eyebrows scrunched together with a melancholic nervousness as he took a deep breath.

"His name is Holm…and I love him very much."

Belladonna let out a small whimper as she rubbed her eyes, having been readying herself for nearly ten years to hear those words…for their suspicions to come true…but it still made her heart ache in anger and grief. Bilbo gave her a sad smile before he continued, turning all his attention to his son, knowing if he looked at his parents he'd break into guilty sobs again.

"We only knew each other for one night…but in that night he became the most important person in the world to me. He became my best friend and my heart, just like O'Ma and O'pa are to each other." He smiled, picking up his son as he began twirling him around the room in a dance.

"We danced for hours and when we could no longer dance, we simply talked and talked…He told me all he could about himself…like how his favorite color is a dark blue, and how he preferred baked potatoes to mashed potatoes. You know, the very important things one must know before they're sure they're in love. But just dancing with him, even if we didn't speak at all…I knew he was the one for me…" He grinned, enjoying the way his son's eyes shone at the story, enjoying the romantic tale even if it lacked princes and dragons.

"Yet in the morning when we parted ways, we were to never meet again…" He frowned sadly, slowing their dance just a bit as he steadied his heart. "But before he left, he had told me he was going to court me…that was going to march right up to our door and ask O'pa for my hand in marriage, and his forgiveness…" He explained, looking past his son to where Bella and Bungo sat, listening to the story with tear filled eyes, and Bilbo was sure that tonight was the most he'd ever seen his father cry.

"Why? What did he need to say sorry for?" Frodo asked curiously.

"Well, you see…Holm wasn't just the love of my life…before that he was O'Ma and O'pa's best friend. It would almost be like if suddenly Sam became my bestest friend in the entire world without either of us telling you. Of course Sam is still your best friend…but wouldn't you be upset if you learned that we went to the park without you?" Bilbo asked, and Frodo frowned, nodding.

"Sam is mine and you can't have him." He said very possessively.

"Now now, I don't want him. But don't be a little dragon about it, it's not nice to hoard people." Bilbo scolded playfully, kissing Frodo's nose before he continued. "So, I had told him that if he wanted to ask Bungo to court me, that he'd have to get flowers…but instead of flowers, Mister Hamfast came to our door with a letter. He had to go to Bree…he hoped to be back in two weeks…"

"But he wasn't?" Frodo gasped, his eyes wide.

"Mhmm…" Bilbo confirmed as he swayed them back and forth.

"Did…did he abandon us?" Frodo asked with a croak in his voice.

It was the question Bilbo knew was on his parents minds as well. He Holm simply bedded their son and ran away? Had he found the responsibility and the guilt too much and abandoned all he had built in his time in the Shire?

"No. I know for a fact he did not. Holm loved us all very, very much…"

"How do you know? He's not come home!" Pointed out the faunt as he tried to make sense of it all.

"Easy. Dwarves need two beads in their hair…If he was planning on leaving for good, then he'd never have given me this…" He explained simply, pulling the chain out of his pocket as he dangled it in front of Frodo so he could take it in his hands and look at it.

"It's so pretty!" He gasped, eyes wide as he looked at Bilbo's treasure.

"Isn't it? If Holm wanted to leave, do you think he'd have given me that?" Bilbo asked, knowing it was hardly that simple, but Frodo didn't need to know that.

Frodo shook his head in agreement as he admired the silver bead, taking in the beautiful etching of seven stars and a small but very detailed bird, which Bilbo had thought to be a crow or a raven after years of looking at the thing.

"…Do you think Holm will come back?" He asked softly, finally tearing his eyes from the bead.

"I don't know…I think a lot of things. What I think right now, though…is that Holm would probably want you to have this…" He smiled warmly, putting the chain around his son's head and sighing with a feeling akin to closure as he saw the bead around his son's neck.

Frodo was later put to bed, after falling asleep mid question about his sire, and Bilbo tucked him in and turned the light off, as Frodo only slept in complete darkness.

"We love you, Bilbo…" Bungo said as they shuffled their way to their son, wrapping him up in their arms. Bilbo sniffled, though refused to cry any longer as he embraced his parents.

"And…Your Pa and I thought about it…and we want you to know that we would have accepted his apology. Holm was…is…is a good man. I hope one day he returns to us…but if not…we believe and trust you. He'd be here if he could…he'd be sorry for being gone…and he loves us all, very, very much." Bella said as she kissed Bilbo's forehead, and pinched his cheek lightly.

They parted ways for the night, and though Bilbo was sure the conversation would leave him restless, he fell asleep with a smile on his face and peace in his heart.

Chapter Text

Thorin felt nothing when he saw the two dwarves brought forth to him. Gander Son of Vander was no less familiar to the Crown Prince than Thenli Son of Renli. Their names nothing to him, nor did their faces, both battered and bruised, just as they'd left him six years ago when the two highway men deemed Thorin to be an easy target.

"We'd never have gone after ye' if we knew ye' were the Crown Prince! Honest!" Gander had groveled as Dwalin kicked him in the back of the knees when he tried to crawl his way forward to Thorin to beg for forgiveness.

Something inside Thorin's patience snapped. He'd been through quite a bit since returning to Ered Luin, living along side his family and his people once more, relearning everything about himself slowly but surely…and for some reason, he thought he'd feel better if he had been attacked because of his title.

"So you'd beat someone to death if they weren't nobles?" Thorin snarled from his seat beside the King's throne. "You think the life of a random traveler is meaningless compared to mine, is that right?" He asked, his eyes narrowed in on the two responsible for his amnesia.

"Y-yes?" Thenli nodded, unsure how to answer, only to earn a glare and a click of the tongue from his partner.

"Balin!" Thorin summoned, and his advisor came to stand by his side. "Tell me…if I were to beat Gander here with the intent to murder him, rob him of all his belongings with the hopes of selling them, and then cut his braids and sell his beads, leaving him left for dead in nothing but his smalls…what would my punishment be?" He asked his advisor, though he never moved his enraged gaze from the two pitiful dwarves before him.

"The punishment for the attempted murder is either execution or a life sentence of hard labor depending on the King's judgment. As for robbery, you would face either restitution…repaying the victim a minimum of ten times the value of what was stolen, additional labor added to your life sentence, or imprisonment.

"Following that, you'd be charged for assault and battery, the most common of punishments would be imprisonment, or years added to your imprisonment. Then, there is also the fact that your victims were left for dead on the side of the road, so you would be charged with endangerment as well…this would certainly add years to your imprisonment. Then, there is your charge of cultural desecration for cutting their hair and stealing their beads…where the punishment can range from exile to death." Balin finished explaining simply, his eyes staring down at those who had harmed his prince with an unnerving neutrality, as if he were looking at nothing more than a pile of shit on the side of the road.

Before Thorin could speak, his heart pounding in his chest as he listened to the punishments that these dwarves could face for their crimes against him, Balin held his hand up once more to continue speaking.

"Yet there is one more charge against you, if you were to have been the one committing these heinous acts, your majesty…In your attempt to kill them, you rendered them not only broken and beaten, but had stripped their minds of their lives…not a single memory of who they were up to that point. Though you failed at taking their lives, as their bodies survived…their very identity and person hood did not survive. The charge of murder of identity, though uncommon, would be added to your list of crimes. The punishment being the same as true murder, which is death or in the most lenient of cases, exile." Balin added eloquently, his voice calm and cool, as if he were simply conversing with the Crown Prince about the weather.

"Please! Please, we didn't mean for-" Gander cried out.

"Silence!" Thorin growled, his hands gripping tightly to the arm rests of his seat so tightly that Balin worried he'd break them. "You meant to rob a dwarf of life and property…you admitted your intent when conversing with our informant, and many witnesses overheard your bragging…Something about how the money you earned from armor alone was still feeding your gambling addiction to this day."

Thenli glared at his partner harshly, keeping him from speaking as if their silence would earn them a less harsh sentence.

"Now…Balin…tell me, was I the one to commit these crimes?" Thorin asked, turning his face to Balin, disgusted at the pathetic sight of the dwarves crying.

"Why of course not, your majesty." Balin stated firmly.

"Can you tell me who committed these crimes against who?" Thorin continued, enjoying the way the men who had taken everything from him were now suffering before him.

'Getting their comeuppance, indeed.' Thorin knew Bungo would say, even if he would frown upon the near-giddiness Thorin was experiencing from their misery.

"The crimes listed were committed by Gander Son of Vander, and Thenli Son of Renli, and were against you, your majesty." Balin said, trying his best to not smile, as he was not one to enjoy another's pain, but he believed this moment was an exception, and he could pray to Mahal later to forgive him for his moment of hubris, as allowed his heart to revel in their misery and fear.

For the suffering of his kin who held him a funeral…

For the burden that Belladonna and Bungo had taken upon themselves to heal an injured, and lost soul…

For himself who had lost everything…

He couldn't help but think Mahal would forgive him for his satisfaction in their suffering.

"Tell me, Balin…as I am no mere dwarf, but the heir to the throne of Erebor and Durin's Folk…what would their punishment be?" Thorin asked, turning back to the dwarves with bitterness in his eyes and anger in his heart.

"They'd be shamed and shorn publicly, and then would be led to their execution." Balin explained…and it was those words that made any feeling of giddiness leave him.

'There is no better revenge than letting a lad live with the knowledge he was wrong.' Belladonna had said once after the ignorant Mister Diggle of Overhill had insulted the Bagginses for taking in a dwarf. 'Sometimes there is the itch to solve a negative moment with negative actions…but that's the thing about negatives, Holm…it takes…and someday, there will be nothing left to take away, and you'll be left empty.

'Smiling and nodding and ignoring the cruel words are not a show of giving in or acceptance of what was said…but that their words are so wrong you'd rather not waste your breath on responding. Do not waste your energy on petty folk like Mister Diggle. Use it on proving him wrong, and make him eat his words.' The mistress of Bag End had grinned at him, and though it was hard to let such demeaning words be thrown at his rescuers, he'd not disappoint Bella by taking…

"As Prince Regent, I am the one who will be deciding the punishment, yes, Balin?" He asked his advisor, who nodded twice. "Well then…" He took a deep breath, rose to his feet and stared down at his attackers…how such pitiful dwarves had gotten the better of him, he didn't know…But the fact still stood that it did happen.

"Shamed and shorn…is a fitting punishment. There is no honor in what you did, and to keep a single hair on your head leaves me feeling sick. It shall be done publicly, where your humiliation will be on display for anyone to see…But a good leader is not one without mercy…" Thorin spoke calmly, feeling satisfied with the conclusion he'd come up with, as if Belladonna had been by his side, helping him work through his rage, just as she had been before.

"In death you'd not feel the shame of your actions. You would not feel remorse, nor the agony of knowing you had done grievously wrong. Death would allow you freedom from your crimes…Instead, you shall be given the brand of the foulest of criminals and exiled from Ered Luin. Your possessions will be given to your next of kin, and you will be sent out with nothing but your undergarments." He declared for everyone to hear. "My word is law, let it be so."

With that, he turned his back on the scene, and when the doors to the chamber closed, it was as if a door on his past closed as well.

He didn't not watch the humiliation, unable to stomach it himself…He knew it was still terribly cruel what he had decided…but in the end, he was a dwarf, not a hobbit…and these were dangerous criminals who posed a threat to more than Thorin's pride. Yet he knew in that moment when he'd reached his decision, that he couldn't become a king who acted on his rage alone…

It was two years after Thorin had returned to Ered Luin that his memories came back to him. Thorin had found a harp in an abandoned room while getting lost on his way to his lessons with Balin, who had taken it upon himself to re-teach Thorin all the knowledge and lore he'd lost. But the harp drew him in, and he knew his lessons could wait.

He dusted it off, and tuned it, his hands acting on their own without much thought, his ears picking up the smallest variation in pitch as he plucked the strings and restored the beautiful golden instrument to its formal glory. But what was glorious about an instrument if it was not used for music?

Of course, Thorin didn't know how to play…just as he didn't know how to tune the strings…

He sat down on the stool that had been beside it, and before he was aware of it, music was filling the halls. Words that Thorin didn't know…notes that he could not recall hearing…they came forth from the harp, as if the song had been within him all along.

A song about grief and loss. A song about suffering…about a story he'd lived, but did not remember until now.

He remembered holding Frerin's hand, with Dis on his back as they escaped from the mountain as the fires raged on, and the dragon made it's claim on their home. He remembered the screams and cries…he remembered their exodus as his people spread across Arda, lost and searching for a place to call home.

He remembered begging his father to let him leave the safety of Ered Luin before he became an adult simply so he could help earn coin for their colony. At only fifty-eight he'd left the mountain to begin his travels alongside merchants, selling his wares and bringing home what he could.

He remembered the birth of his nephews, and how he'd try to save enough coin to be able to buy them a trinket now and again…and he remembered when he was seventy, marching alongside his brother-in-law to the Misty Mountains to fight in what became the Battle of Bizarre.

He remembered severing Azog the Defiler's head from his shoulders, just as the vile beast had done to their king — his grandfather. He remembered their trudging feet as they returned to the Blue Mountains, the dead burned and buried, never to be returned to their loved ones…

He remembered the haunting cry his sister choked out when he told her the news. How she trembled in his arms as her legs could no longer hold her in her grief. He remembered the dirge he played in memory of the family he had lost in that battle…and as Thorin's fingers continued to pluck and strum and dance across the strings of the golden harp, he remembered how he had once tried to gain his mastery in it. How he had wanted to become a musician like his grandmother who died in dragon fire…Only to put the dream away for more profitable pursuits to keep his family from starvation.

He played his harp.

And he remembered.

The halls of Ered Luin had long since been devoid of music since Thorin's disappearance seven years ago. With the loss from Azanulbizar still heavy in everyone's hearts, and their prince and hero vanishing without a trace no one had a reason for song.

But his music swelled and soared through the air like the Ravens of Ravenhill…and as it flowed through the halls, it was as if a message was delivered with each note. A message of hope.

'When there's life, there's hope…Always remember that Thorin. With air in your lungs, and a beating heart, it matters not what comes your way. There will always be hope.'

It was not even a day after Thorin regained his memories that his father the King passed away. Thrain had heard his song and for the first time in a long time, had eyes that were clear and seeing things as they truly were. Thrain held Thorin close, and the two were silent as they remembered together. He spoke of how good it was to see his son again, and Thorin had apologized for making him worry for so long.

Thrain died in his sleep with a smile on his face and peace in his heart.

Thorin's coronation was a week after the funeral. He had quickly become known for being a just and kind king, one who took the complaints of his people with the seriousness and respect it deserved. Even the most minor grievances were held to the same standard of consideration as the most important matters of state.

An older man who could no longer walk up the steps to Mahal's shrine was just as important to Thorin as orc packs and wargs becoming more prevalent in the north. So Thorin would summon his counsel and have a railing built at the steps to the shrine, and he'd send more scouts out to protect their home.

The king was beloved…but he was also tired.

When a certain Grey Pilgrim came to him about a task only he could uptake, he had to push his exhaustion to the side. He formed a small company with the hopes of reclaiming their ancestral home. The journey was perilous, and there were many times he was certain his life flashed before his eyes…but he refused to succumb to death.

He had slain the dragon.

He had conquered his line's madness.

He had overcome the trials of reclaiming his home.

It took time and patience, but as more and more of his people flooded the gates of Erebor, the mountain became alive once again. They cleaned the dust and the debris, and rebuilt what had been destroyed. He welcomed his nephews to their birthright that they had only heard of in their grand tales…and he became allied with the elves of Mirkwood, as well as the men of Dale, determined to put old grudges to the side, and form new bonds of friendship and respect.

Thorin was beloved.

And he so terribly missed his beloved.

Not a day went by that he didn't think of Bilbo…and every year on the twenty-second of September, for how could he ever forget such a date, he'd celebrate the night they shared together. He'd go to his balcony, and stare up at the stars. As he sipped at the honey mead in his goblet, he would remember the way the fireflies had danced around them as if they were a reflection of the sky above them, and play the song that both Bilbo and himself had claimed to be their favorite…and he remembered just how wonderful it felt to dance with his hobbit to that song.

He wondered if Bilbo looked up at the same sky. Did the hobbit think of him when he the song was played at parties? Did he dance with someone else? Did he take another as his lover and let them court him the way he deserved? Did they bring Bungo flowers and ask him for Bilbo's hand in marriage? Or did he begrudgingly marry one of his suitors, or maybe he perhaps find love at first sight again? Or, even worse, was Bilbo as silly as he was, still waiting for the day Holm would return to Bag End with a bushel of roses and a ring in a box?

Every time Thorin thought he was close to catching a break…to having the opportunity to reach out to the Shire, something always stopped him. Though he was King, it mattered not to his siblings, who were still weary about Thorin contacting his old friends. No longer did they worry that the hobbits of the Shire had kidnapped him and held him prisoner…instead they worried that their brother and King would leave them for his friends.

Thorin had never told anyone of Bilbo…it never felt right to do so, for some reason. He longed to tell his sister, ever the romantic, that he had found love in the Shire, and that his One was waiting for him…He wanted to tell Frerin about how Bilbo was far more cunning than he was, and how well they'd get along. He wanted so desperately to tell them that he'd given the hobbit one of his only beads, which he had remembered was the beginning of Dwarven courtship, and couldn't help but smile at how appropriate a gesture it was.

But he only ever mentioned the Bagginses as his friends…and as time went on, he mentioned them aloud less and less. Now, nearly a decade after reclaiming his home, he sat in a counsel meeting and wished, not for the first time, that he could be with those friends…not dealing with paperwork or problems of state…

And especially not dealing with looming starvation.

"We can reach out to Rohan?" Suggested one counselman, Baksur Son of Raksur, though he doubted it was a good suggestion…but when you were grasping for straws, anything was better than nothing.

"Perhaps the Iron Hills can spare some food this time around?" Chimed in Rees, Daughter of Thees.

"No good there either…Lord Dain is struggling enough as it is with his own. They've got enough for themselves and their stores…but it'd be a hit too damaging to share…" Lamented Vrilon, Daughter of Krilon, her head hanging low as she was ambassador to the Iron Hills and knew too well how little they could spare.

"What about Gondor? Surely they might have something...even just farmers to come lend us a hand?" Grumbled Gloin, son of Groin, the head of the treasury offered dryly, as if he were simply speaking to hear his own voice rather than truly suggesting it.

"Too dangerous…more orc packs are spotted South of Dorwinion by the month…we can't risk it…both the produce and the lives that could be lost…Not to mention it's too far…the food would go bad by the time we could store it properly…lest we survive only on pickles…" Bombur, the head of the Culinary Guild grimaced at the idea.

"What about…what about reaching out to Ered Luin? Could they possibly-" But Deya Child of Teya was cut off.

"Ered Luin has much now as they did when Durin's Folk still resided there in Thorin's Halls. No…we will not ask for what they do not have." Princess Dis spoke firmly, and Deya nodded, knowing it was a silly thing to even think, seeing as she too came from Ered Luin and knew their situation all too well.

Thorin had been sitting quietly, nodding and shaking his head silently, stroking his beard in contemplation, trying to find a solution. When the most obvious solution popped up in his mind, he stood up far too quickly, his chair tumbling back as he slammed his hands on the table, his eyes wide and shining, and his smile full of excitement.

The counsel had never seen their king with such an excited and eager expression. His eyes were as wide as his smile, a far cry from the brooding and scowling he was known for.

"Your Majesty?" Balin son of Fundin asked, a fuzzy white eyebrow raised high as he waited for an explanation from the king.

"We will write to the Thain!" He spoke with little room for anyone to so much as think to argue.

"What? Who? Who's the 'Thain'?" Frerin finally chimed in, waking up from a nap, as he had a habit of getting too comfortable in his chair during these meetings.

"The leader of the Shire! They have food to spare…stores and stores of it. Even after the Fell Winter their fields never suffered…their farmers are the best in all of Arda. No other knows how to care for the earth like a hobbit. I will write to the Thain…ask him if we can make a deal…I don't know what we'd exchange though…" Thorin paused, wondering what in the world a dwarven kingdom could ever offer the Shire.

"Gold." Gloin said plainly after a moment of silence, as everyone had thought their king was being dry and sarcastic.

"Hardly. They care not for it…They'd do better if we traded buttons for tomatoes." Thorin snorted at the exaggeration, but it wasn't too far off from the truth.

"And why would halflings even think about helping us?" Asked Vrilon with very little enthusiasm. "I've met them plenty of times…terrible to do business with. They're all a bit…primitive and naive…If we asked them for food, they'd send it to us in a box, thinking we were asking for a snack. They're too idealistic…they'd never be able to imagine the state of our fields…" She tisked, shaking her head and rolling her eyes, too tired and hungry to think about how disrespectful she was acting towards the king.

But it wasn't her attitude towards Thorin that irked him, but the blatant prejudice against the people he still cared deeply for.

"They're not half of anything, Master Vrilon Daughter of Krilon. They are hobbits, and it'd be in your favor to remember that, am I understood? You are wrong on all accounts and I should hope to never hear you speak that way about them again." Thorin bellowed through the counsel room, his voice booming as he made his feelings on the matter known.

"They are a kind people who would give the shirt off their backs to help a stranger if they needed it. Maybe not a Sackville…but look no farther than the Baggins, a Took, or a Gamgee, and you'll find hospitality at its finest." Thorin smiled warmly to himself before clearing his throat and putting on a firm, regal expression once more.

"This meeting is over. I will send word to the Thrain of the Shire immediately. We will reconvene on the matter should anything occur…in the mean time, we continue rationing as we have been." He ordered, slamming his fist on the table to mark the meetings close, and he walked off with his advisor, guard, and siblings trailing behind him.

"Thorin…are you sure about this?" Dis asked, nervously glancing over at their brother as they followed behind Thorin to his office.

"Why wouldn't I be? I…I am not running off like you always fear I will! I am simply…I am writing. To their leader, as another leader. Not as Holm…" He sighed, face contorting with frustration and sadness before he took a deep breath and shook his head. "It'd be best to never even mention Holm again to someone in the Shire…for all I know, they'd riot if they see my name. H-his name…that name. I let a lot of people down by being taken away…" He glared at his siblings only to take another deep breath and hold up his hands as he backed down from the conversation.

"I will write to the Thain. I've no doubt some sort of aid will be sent to us…Bring me Roac." Thorin spoke very clearly and in a rhythm he often used when listing things off.

"You can't seriously think to send Roac to the Shire! You'd scare the hobbits into having heart attacks before they could read the message!" Frerin scoffed, crossing his arms as he wondered if his brother were going mad, or was just become that dim.

"Maybe if the Thain was a Bunce or a Pudifoot…but the Thain is a Took, and if I know anything about the Old Took, its that the only thing to give him a heart attack would be if he was asked to give up his pipe weed." Thorin chuckled, rolling his eyes as he walked into his office. Hobbits were used to being underestimated, and perhaps it should stay that way, simply because it was always so fun to watch others be proven wrong.

Thorin rewrote the letter at least ten times before he finally had something that he thought would suffice. He'd gotten so used to speaking and writing like a dwarf (as he reminded himself that that was what he was) that it felt odd trying to speak like the hobbits did once more, while still maintaining the sound of a King of Dwarves addressing a fellow leader.

The letter was carefully contained and put into Roac's message carrier on his leg, and after Thorin fed the loyal bird some scraps they could afford to feed their loyal ravens, and a relaxing scratch under his chin, the bird was off to the Shire.

April 5th, T.A. 2938

To the esteemed Thain of the Shire,

It has been a grievous fault of mine that our people's have yet to be acquainted. I had made it one of my main objectives that once our kingdom of the Lonely Mountain was once again reclaimed, that we would strive to have better relations with all the free people of Middle Earth.

I regret that it is due to unfortunate circumstances that have moved my hand, and not something more pleasant. I wish I could send joyous tidings and speak of good will between our peoples, but I lament that time is little and food is even less.

Since our reclamation, we have striven to revive our fields…But we are not farmers, or gardeners…Our allies in the City of Dale are also unable to provide aid as their fields are also failing despite their best efforts. We are but miners, and they are but fishermen…and even though our coal can cook a fish, neither will stave off the hunger we'll face this winter.

I write to you in desperate hopes that we can form an alliance. I know of your people to be kind and generous, and I know that gold alone is not worth the efforts of your people…If you can find it in your heart to help us in our time of need, Erebor vows to forever be at your disposal for a kingdom is nothing without her people, and it is that which we stand to lose should we not find help.

Please send your reply with Roac (the raven who has delivered this to you), and if you can spare it, a cracker to fuel his travels.

May the hair on your toes never fall out, and your pantry never be empty.

Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King of The Lonely Mountain and Durin's Folk

April 10th, T.A. 2938

To His Majesty Thorin Oakenshield of The Lonely Mountain and Durin's Folk,

I will put your heart at ease now, and reassure you that the Shire will come to your aid. Our own Fell Winter still haunts our memories to this day, and to know another is struggling similarly, and asking for our help, is not something we will ignore.

I must speak with my people's representatives (Mayors and Heads of Clans), so that we may discuss how we can best be of service. By the time this letter is in your hands a plan should be well under way.

If it is doable, please send as detailed a report as you can on the current state of your food stores as well as your fields…and, if Roac is able, a sample of your soil so that our farmers can determine the best course of action. What is your population size, as well as the City of Dale's, for it'd be shameful to help you and not the other. No one should ever go hungry.

I'm aware you dwarves eat far less than we hobbits, but it is a tragedy indeed when one must skimp, be it in coin or in meals. Rest assured, help will come.

And rest assured that your lovely bird has been well fed, and is taking a nap on my favorite throw as I write this. I shall make it his official perch during our correspondence, as I should hope that after all this trouble is put behind you, that our peoples may still be allied in some fashion.

May your beard never stop growing, and your hills always be rolling. (Or should I say your mountain stand strong?)

Now and for always.

-Thain Derwen of the Shire

Chapter Text

Bilbo accomplished more in his first years as Thain than any of his predecessors. Their motto, "Now and for always" seemed like both a blessing and a curse.

"May our hills always be rolling…now and for always." Bilbo sighed as he paced the halls of Bag End in the middle of the night, a nagging feeling bothering him, keeping him from sleep.

"Bilbo…it is two in the morning…what is the matter?" Belladonna had yawned as she popped out of her room, Bilbo's incessant mumbling growing louder and louder. That, mixed with her beloved grandchild's snoring in the room next door, kept her from sleep, so she might as well wake up and solve whatever was wrong with her son.

"Too much is the matter, Mother…too much." Bilbo muttered cryptically, the bags under his red eyes reminding Belladonna of just how little sleep her dear boy was getting these days.

"Well, lay it on me. What 'too much' is it that is keep in me from my sleep?" She asked as she shuffled her way past Bilbo before entering the kitchen and putting on the kettle and grabbing them a nice little snack. Together, they shared a little tray of cheese and crackers and some fruit, and a nice cup of chamomile, even though Bilbo insisted he couldn't afford to feel relaxed at the moment.

"Why not?" Bella asked, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at the Thain.

"Because! If I relax, then I don't get work done." He said simply as he reached for another grape.

"Ah, so you plan on being stressed until you die, then?" She challenged.

"No! Just until I can figure this out…"

"And again I ask…what is 'this'?"

"Now and for always." Bilbo said plainly, and his mother just stared dumbly at him, wondering if perhaps she was just too tired to process her son.

"For time out of mind we have stayed the same. We've avoided progress and have squandered away opportunities simply because we have been content with it. Now and for always. May things always stay the same. That is what is bothering me.

"I never believed it to mean that…keeping things as they are, forever and ever, for time out of mind…But upon reading the Thain's Books, well…that's all we've ever been doing! Mother, do you now how many reports I've gotten of our senior citizens getting terribly injured in falls so that they can deliver a letter?"

"….Two?" Belladonna suggested, as she never thought much of it. Hobbiton had a very good post office and she never even had to leave her home to have her post delivered.

"Seventeen in the last year alone! Seventeen! There are hardly enough post offices for the Shire for the amount of post we have…In the last census alone, it was recorded that hobbits who live farther away from post offices are feeling more isolated…disconnected. They aren't able to receive letters from their families, or invitations to parties…and in Budgeford a staggering twenty percent of hobbits didn't participate in the election because they either never received a ballot in the mail, because they don't have a post office, or they weren't able to make it to another town hall to vote because they don't have one.

"How are we supposed to have a fair election for the Mayor of the Shire if such a large portion of our lands are unable to vote!" Bilbo seethed, pulling at his hair as he talked through his crackers.

"…And what does this have to do with our motto?" She asked, squinting at her son as she truly was not awake yet, and moved to the kitchen for a stronger drink.

"We need progress mother! Things cannot stay now and for always the way that they have! How can our hills always be rolling if there is a portion of the Shire that cannot tell me that there is a sink hole? How can our harvests truly be considered plentiful if," Bilbo paused and looked back down at his scribbled notes jotted down on piles and piles of paper, pointing a finger at a number that was such chicken-scratch Bella didn't bother trying to read it. "If five families in the North Moores alone reported in the census that they couldn't afford seven meals a day, mother! They couldn't afford it. I have been blinded by my privilege, and we have all been hindered by this dreadful 'now and for always' business! I tell you now, mother…no longer! I have a plan!" Bilbo grinned with a rather crazy look in his eyes and bright smile that worried if her son had finally cracked under the pressure.

"And that plan is?" She asked, waiting for the hat to drop, and for her son to say something truly absurd.

He quickly picked up one of his many papers, fumbling through them to find the one he was looking for, and held it up to her face, a manic giggle in his throat as he did so. Belladonna snatched the paper from him and held it out so she could actually see what was on it.

And yes…her son had finally gone batty.

"Pigeons?"

Time would prove that her son was not, in fact, batty. He was simply tired…but he refused to rest until his plan came to fruition. The Thain had gathered together a task force of hobbits who would assist with his grand plan.

Bungo was pulled out of retirement (willingly, he assured the others) and became the lead architect for the buildings, working along side carpenters like Ringo Bracegurdle, and his former protege who had moved to Michel Delving, Rosemary Twofoot.

While they worked on the buildings, he had a total of eight hobbits, two for each farthing, to go out and survey the lands to determine where these buildings were most necessary.

Finally, Bilbo himself had taken on his first business trip outside of the Shire, leaving his mother as his 'regent' so to say, while he was away. Bilbo had taken Raven, the old girl just as strong and sturdy as ever, and made the long trip to the Grey Havens, where he requested their aid.

"We would be honored to help you, Thain Baggins of the Shire…" Bowed an elf by the name of Galdor, with a sparkle in his grey eyes as they hosted Bilbo there for a month, guiding him around their aviary and teaching Bilbo the ways of caring for the beautiful birds, as well as how to train them.

When Bilbo returned to the Shire with a small elven host and many pigeons, he was proud to finally put his plan in action. The elves worked with the task force, all eager to participate as they'd not had something so different to do in over a thousand years it would seem.

It took a year, which was far faster than Bilbo had ever hoped possible, yet there he was at the Hobbiton post office, watching birds fly in and out as they delivered letters to other offices, allowing the hobbits to focus on their own local delivery, and packages.

Three years later, in the next census, Bilbo had proof that he was right, which always made him happy.

"I'll have you know, though I am so very proud of you…if you were to tell me that your grand plan to keep Old Lady Mistle from breaking her hip was pigeons, I'd also think you had gone mad." Bungo teased with a smile, patting Bilbo's shoulder for a job well done.

Yet this was not what Bilbo became known for. He was not called 'Thain Pigeon', thank goodness, as that is a terrible name, thank you very much. He was called 'Thain Derwen' after he bravely fought off a group of mannish loggers who'd come to Crickhollow with the intent on taking down one of the Shire's oldest, sacred trees.

Bilbo had been visiting the Master of Buckland when he'd heard quite a ruckus. Some less than kind, and even less sensible men from Breeland had been chopping down trees in the North of the Old Forest. Any farther south into that blasted woods would have gotten them all whaked in the head by Old Man Willow, unless Kindly Mister Tom got to them first…and Bilbo wished he had, for that would have been a sight worth seeing.

Instead, Bilbo hadn't hesitated when he made his way to the terrible scene…There stood the Derwen tree, a proud Oak who's roots were so deep that no frost could ever bite them…with an ax thwacking away at it's lovely trunk. Bilbo saw red…this was a tree he'd always loved to see when he visited Buckland, and even more so, loved the stories hobbits of all generations would tell about their connection to the tree.

But sadly, hobbits were small and non-confrontational. Despite the cries of young faunts, and the aggressive shouts from their parents, no one moved to stop the men, their axes too sharp and their scowls too scary for them to feel safe trying to protect their sacred tree.

Bilbo, scared as he was, ran and jumped at the man with the ax, wrestling him to the ground. Growing up with Tooks as cousins, one became accustomed to wrestling, and being smaller than all of his cousins, he learned he had to rely on his speed more than strength…but even a Took couldn't out wrestle a man. The element of surprise gave the Thain the upper hand for a moment, but soon enough the men were enraged that some 'pathetic halfling' had the gall to stop them.

By the end, Bilbo was battered and bruised. He had a broken arm and a black eye, and several bruised ribs, as the men thought it funny that he was at such a kick-able height. But it didn't stop him. Bilbo defended the tree. When the men finally took a step back, Bilbo stood as tall as he could muster through the pain, arms out stretched as if his little body could fend them off…but he didn't need physical strength to keep the men away.

Superstition would be good enough.

"Lady Yavanna!" Bilbo shouted up at the sky, his voice booming and startling the men. "Give me strength to smite my enemy down!" He cried out, and right as he did so, thunder rumbled in the sky, and lightning cracked the sky like one would an egg. It took no time at all for a thunderstorm to strike.

"Lady Yavanna! May you strike them down with your lightning and curse their families until the world is remade!" Bilbo bellowed through the storm before pointing directly at the group of men who began trembling in fear at Bilbo's magic.

They dropped their axes and ran, all the while screaming about how hobbits were fae like the legends said, and that it was all a dumb idea to begin with.

Of course, the Master of Buckland and the Thain shared a good laugh about it all as they happily hosted Bilbo til his wounds healed enough to travel back to Hobbiton.

"That storms been a'brewing for days now!" Saradoc Brandybuck laughed, slapping his knee as his wife, and Bilbo's cousin, Esmeralda Took, helped put a splint on Bilbo's right arm, a salve on his ribs, and a cold wash cloth on his eye.

"I know! I just about jumped out of my skin when the thunder and lightning happened when it did! The men of Bree are terrified of anything magical at all…so I knew even if the wind picked up, or a few drops fell, they'd be quaking in their silly little boots…but my goodness, when it rains it pours I guess.' He snorted and laughed alongside his friend, wincing at the ache in his ribs, but the pain was proof of what he'd done, and he couldn't help but be proud of himself.

Frodo was thrilled when he heard the story, amazed that his father had actually fought against some big folk and won.

"Now, listen here Frodo…I won by default. Please don't go picking fights with Men…I wouldn't have won if not by luck…" He shuddered. If his quick plan to pretend he was connected to the Valar hadn't worked, he wasn't quite sure he'd be alive to tell the tale.

Nor the Derwen tree.

That thought alone scared Bilbo.

He was fine to wield a pen, but any weapon always felt unnecessary…but perhaps as Thain, it was more necessary that he ever wanted to think. How could he say he will protect his lands if he couldn't so much as throw a punch? Obviously, violence would never be his first resort, but if the time ever came, he'd want to be ready.

He wasn't the only one who felt this way…and so his next project came into existence.

"Bounders?" Frodo repeated the word curiously.

"Yes!" Bilbo grinned while he, his son, and his parents, all enjoyed a lovely tea together. Bilbo was very happy he was no longer needing a brace, as it meant he would be able to actually start his project and participate in it.

"But what does that mean?" Frodo asked next, his parents nodding their heads quizzically.

"It means a group of people who will beat the bounds. People who will help keep the outsiders in check and keep us in the Shire safe. You've met our sheriffs off and on…but they help keep us when other hobbits are acting out of turn…They make sure we folk inside the boundaries of the Shire behave as proper hobbits should."

"And bounders…will make sure folk outside the Shire behave well too?" Frodo asked, eyebrows raised high.

"Right you are my boy!" Bilbo grinned before sipping at his tea.

"Well this is all lovely, but what good will a bounder do to make an outsider behave properly?" Bella asked, shuddering at the thought that some men folk might try to come back and retaliate against Bilbo, and it'd not go well this time, for Bilbo or these new bounders.

"Easy! I have already sent missives to Rivendell and the Rangers asking for their support in training hobbits who wish to join the new branch of the Watch.

It was lovely proof that his post system worked as intended, for when he sent his pigeon, Periwinkle, to Rivendell on May the fifth, she had returned on May the seventh.

"She's so fast, Papa!" Gasped Frodo in awe, and Bilbo nodded and grinned.

"Indeed she is! She could fly seven hundred miles in a single day…that's what Mister Galdor had told me at least." Bilbo boasted proudly.

"Where is Rivendell exactly?" Frodo asked next, and Bungo, ever the diligent Grandfather, knew when Frodo needed to leave the poor Thain alone so he could get his work done.

"Why don't we go look at my maps and find out?" Bungo suggested, holding out his hand to Frodo as he was led out the room, the sound of the curious boy asking questions fading out as they walked to Bungo's study.

Several elves from Rivendell as well as several Rangers were happy to agree to spare their time and skills training up the able and willing hobbits who wished to join the newly formed branch of the Watch. And, as Bilbo believed in leading by example, was the first to sign up.

"Can't very well convince people to do something if you yourself won't do it." Bilbo had explained with a shrug as his father fretted over his son learning such dangerous things.

"Well…I hope you'll never need to use these things…" Bungo shivered, and Bilbo wholeheartedly agreed.

It was not surprising the hobbits took to archery like a moth to a flame. They were a people who enjoyed throwing games, like darts and horseshoes. So to learn how to use a bow and arrow came as naturally to the bounders as using their slingshots for a game of knock the can.

What was surprising was that despite his natural talent with the bow, Bilbo had preferred the sword. Perhaps it was the stories his parents always read to him growing up, where the prince would brandish his sword in front of the dragon, and slay the beast! Or, perhaps he found that going through the forms the elves taught him was almost meditative, and somehow brought a peace to his mind that he'd long been unable to find.

But it mattered not why Bilbo loved the sword. What mattered was that he was adept at using it, and the elves felt confident that, should the Thain ever face a battle like Bullroarer had all those years ago, that he'd come out victorious, should he do as he's been taught.

On Bilbo's fifth anniversary as Thain he was gifted a very special gift. The Mayor of Michel Delving, Master of Buckland, and the heads of houses all came together and gave Bilbo his new name as Thain.

No longer would he simply be 'Thain', but instead, 'Thain Derwen', for not only his saving of the tree, but also for how he embodied the tree's very spirit and symbolism.

He was honored, and most certainly did not cry.

"But why can't you just be 'Thain Bilbo'? I don't get it…" Frodo huffed, confused as to why his father can't keep his name.

"Well…hmmm…think of it like this…You know how you don't call me by my name? You call me 'papa'? Or how you call your grandparents 'O'ma and O'pa'? It's like that kind of. To you I'm not just Bilbo…I am your Papa, and that comes first. To the Shire, I'm not Bilbo, but the Thain. To use a name that came to me before my title would be like saying I've always been the Thain…in a way? Which I have not, as you know. So, instead…because I did something that others think was very good, they gave me a special name for my title…'Derwen' after the tree. So…to you, I'm your papa, and to the Shire, I'm the Thain." He smiled, hoping that made sense, as even he struggled with the concept sometimes, as it felt a little convoluted.

"So…who are you Bilbo to?" Frodo asked softly, his voice sounding a little wistful and borderline existential.

"To myself, of course! My name was a gift to me from O'ma and O'pa. Just as Frodo is a gift I gave to you. I love my gift very much…do you like your gift, Frodo?" Bilbo asked, genuinely curious as to how Frodo felt about his name.

"I think it sounds nice…" Frodo nodded, but seemed a little uneasy.

"But?" Bilbo prompted.

"But I don't know what it means! All the girls get it easy…Daisy is named after Daisies and Lily is named after Lilies…What does my name mean, Papa?"

"Oh my boy, your name is quite wonderful, I think…It means 'Wise by experience'. When I gifted you the name 'Frodo', it was my hopes that you'd learn from your successes and failures and all that lies in between. I think you've done a great job of living up to your name, what do you think, hmm?"

"I think I am the wisest in our whole house." Frodo said firmly, with the most serious expression the boy had ever worn, and Bilbo did his best to not break into a fit of giggles at just how cute it was.

His son was, in fact, the cutest faunt to exist in all of the Shire, and he was sure of it. He had the cutest sideburns and rounded ears, and his little feet were so adorable that even as he grew older, Bilbo couldn't help but tickle his feet every time he had the chance, seeing as his son was soft-soled, and was very ticklish.

It was a little odd to process that even if Frodo was fourteen now, it seemed as if he aged closer to how dwarves did, as he was around the maturity of a ten year old, despite being as tall as a fifteen year old. It was a little odd to know his son was still a little faunt while he came right up to his shoulder. But Bilbo couldn't help but find this a blessing, as he often heard parents sigh about their children growing up too fast.

So, Bilbo was determined to enjoy his time with his little faunt for as long as he could, as he was not looking forward to Frodo in his irresponsible tweens, the thought alone often causing Bilbo to bite at his nails in worry of what would become of his Shire with a loose dwobbit causing chaos with his friends. At least Samwise was there with three of them to be the voice of reason, telling Merry and Pippin that they cannot actually set the post pigeons on Missus Sackville-Bagginses hat because then Mister Bilbo would be screamed at, and nobody wanted Mister Bilbo to be screamed at.

But when Frodo opened the door to Bilbo's office, pondering the different ways his little gang could utilize pigeons against their enemy, his eyes landed on a completely bewildering sight that sent his mind ablaze with new possibilities.

"Papa? Why is there a bird sleeping on your pillow?" Frodo asked curiously as he stood in the door way of Bilbo's office, staring at the beautiful black bird as he rested beside his father.

"Because he is tired of course." Bilbo hummed as he signed off on the letter, smiling as he wrote his name and title, as he never grew bored of having such an honorable name bestowed upon him.

"I can see that…but why is there a bird in our home?" Frodo clarified, lowering his voice as to not wake the sleeping bird as he ruffled his feathers in his sleep.

"Why? Well, we have just received a very important letter from a very important person, and this lovely raven here, Roac, is very tired from his travels." Bilbo explained as he tucked the letter away in an envelope and sealed it with his crest of an oak leaf and an acorn, amused at the connection he shared with a dwarven king of all people.

"Who? Who?" He asked eagerly, forgetting his volume for a moment as he roused the bird from their sleep.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Roac…Did you sleep well?" Bilbo asked, and surprising to both of them, the bird actually nodded. "Would you like some water and another treat before you go?" Bilbo asked next, squinting at the bird as he tried to determine if it had just been a coincidence…but the bird nodded even more eagerly.

"Well then…you stay put and I'll grab you something for your troubles." Bilbo grinned and quickly hurried off to the kitchen, only to come back with a small bowl of water in one hand, and a saucer full of some venison jerky.

Roac, who seemed to be having a staring contest with Frodo, quirked his head to the side to see Bilbo, and excitedly hopped his way to the desk to devour the food ravenously.

"He was hungry…" Gawked Frodo, and Bilbo pat his son's wild hair down and nodded.

"Very. His people don't have much food right now, and were brave enough to ask us for help. We've got plenty of food, so we should help them, yes?" He asked his son, who's eyes shone bright with an eagerness to help, and he jumped to his feet.

"Yes! Let me pack up the pantry!" He grinned, though it faltered when Bilbo laughed.

"No, my boy…they live too far away to simply send them a box, and certainly not by raven." Bilbo clarified, and Frodo sighed but accepted it and watched the bird curiously as he ate, having never seen such a pretty bird up close.

"Mister Roac looks like the bird on the bead, doesn't he, Papa?" Frodo hummed softly, resting his cheek on the desk as he took in the sight of the shimmering black feathers.

"I suppose your right. Though, Mister Roac here is far larger than the one on the bead now isn't he." Bilbo chuckled as Roac finished devouring his food, and held out his leg to Bilbo, as if to tell him to put the letter in his case.

"So soon? Do you not need to rest more? The Lonely Mountain is quite far…" Bilbo fretted as he couldn't help but tenderly stroke the bird's head with the back of his fingers, and smiled when the bird leaned into his gentle touch, only to hold his leg out once more, insisting he must go.

"Alright, alright…I suppose it is urgent business, isn't it. Well, you go get this to that king of yours. I'll be eagerly awaiting his reply…" He smiled as he opened his window for the bird to carry on his mission.

"Alright, Frodo lad…we've got some letters to send." Bilbo smiled, penning urgent invitations for the Shire representatives, and having Frodo close them in envelopes and seal them, knowing how much Frodo loved using the stamp on the hot wax. Together, the Thain and his Scion walked to the post office, with the younger vibrating with excitement. Frodo loved going to the post office with Bilbo, even more than he enjoyed sealing the letters. And he loved watching the carrier pigeons flutter about as they waited for their next task.

"So where is The Lonely Mountain, Papa?" Frodo had asked on their walk back home.

"That's a good question! Lets see if one of your O'pa's maps shows where it is." He grinned as they walked back up the Hill to Bag End.

When the Thain held his counsel, it was very reassuring that not a single person was disinclined to provide aid to Erebor. They summoned another task force, as Bilbo so appreciated not working on projects alone, and together discussed the intricacies of the matter at hand.

When King Thorin's next letter arrived, the task force was overjoyed to have such detailed information to work with, and the farmers and gardeners were eager to take on such a challenge as healing the desolation in the North East, all talking amongst one another about how wonderful it'll be to bring a splash of color back to those dreary lands, as the reports did not paint a pretty picture.

Bilbo had been pleasantly surprised that many of the task force wished to actually go on this adventure, only for them to smile and remind Bilbo that 'now and for always' didn't mean staying the same…it was about time hobbits left the Shire.

"If Hobbiton could have a dwarf for a blacksmith, then this Lonely Mountain can have a hobbit as their gardener." Hamfast smiled confidently, a twinkle in his eye as he remembered Holm fondly, and the mention alone was enough to make the Thain feel nostalgic. As he penned his response to the King of the Lonely Mountain, he couldn't help but hum the favorite song he and Holm had danced to fifteen years ago…

April 17, T.A. 2938

To the ever gracious and generous Thain Derwen of the Shire,

It would not be lie to say that your people have saved us. At the least, your letter has brought us hope many had long since lost, and for that alone I am grateful. I have attached to my letter all the information you requested from those in charge of the related guilds and masters of their professions, as well as a sample of the soil from our largest field.

I have not yet told King Bard of Dale of your aid, for apprehension will linger in my heart until there are food in our stores and bellies. I do not want to give hope where it might fade…Not that I doubt you and your people, but because the world has never been kind to our people. We are accustomed to plans going awry and not in our favor…That is to say, until I can see my people smiling without fear of starving, I will remain uncertain.

Pray, tell what it is we can provide in turn for your aid, as we cannot call ourselves true dwarrow if we've such a life debt to repay. Though, if all you ask is allyship, consider us your ally, for dwarves are a loyal people, and we will never forget this kindness.

Roac had nothing but kind things to say about his stay in your home, and it pleases me greatly to know he was in good hands.

Our mountain will always stand firm, just as I hope your hills will always be rolling.

Now and for always.

-King Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King of the Lonely Mountain and Durin's Folk

April 20th, T.A. 2938

To his majesty Thorin Oakenshield of Erebor,

I do hope you'll forgive me for shortening your name to just that, but I will say my hand is cramping something terrible after a large excess of paperwork has landed on my desk, and if I'll save my wrist from the strain where I can.

I can understand your apprehension, and do not fault you for it. Even if we will not turn our backs on you, it does not mean that fate won't interfere in some way, shape, or form. We will do our best to ensure that fate minds its own business while we work on such an important task, though.

While some coin may be useful to help compensate our journey to Erebor, my people ask for no more than friendship, and that you are all happy and healthy, as there is nothing a hobbit wants more than to live a happy life.

We can discuss compensation when we arrive, of course. I am quite excited to announce that my counsel has come to the decision that, based on your reports and soil sample, that we can fix your fields right as rain. Our group will consist of some of our best farmers, gardeners, as well as a few cooks who know how to best store food to last for far longer than anyone could think possible.

Though my only gardening talent is in growing the best tomatoes the Shire has ever seen, and I doubt that be much help unfortunately, I will be joining this adventure regardless. Like you, I had also made it a goal of mine to make my people less insular, and while we've befriended and made allies with the elves on either side of us, we've not yet crossed over the Misty Mountains…I think I'd like to see for myself what all the fuss is about.

According to Galdor of the Grey Havens, if we leave by the weeks end, our caravan should arrive in five months time, give or take. While Roac is a lovely messenger, I will also be bringing my own messenger, Periwinkle (or Peri as he seems to prefer being called these days. Pigeons are strange…) so that Roac can take a well deserved break.

I am greatly looking forward to this adventure, and even more so to meeting you, King Under the Mountain.

Now and for always,

-Thain Derwen

Chapter Text

There was far too much left to be done before King Thorin's companions arrived from Ered Luin. He had replied to Bilbo, Thain Derwen, that he does not doubt Bilbo's heart…but the length of his arm. Followed by a very clearly rushed apology, as he meant no offense, and simply wouldn't want his newfound allies to be he hindered or hurt on their way to Erebor.

Because of that, Bilbo had happily agreed to have a dwarven escort consisting of a handful of the king's companions who were actually leaving Ered Luin, and were going to be returning to Erebor. Excited to meet some of the dwarves of King Thorin's company, having been told brief snippets of how Erebor was reclaimed, Bilbo worked tirelessly to make sure that Bag End was ready to host dwarven guests for the first time in nearly fifteen years.

King Thorin had assured Bilbo that his companions should reach their home by Heavensday — to which Bilbo was impressed with just how much research on the Shire the king had done, and smiled wondering just what a king of dwarves, busy with a kingdom far larger than Bilbo could imagine, would spend their time learning about the Shire and hobbits. With so much happening in the mountain, Bilbo would not have held it against him if he knew nothing of his newfound allies.

Yet each letter showed bits and pieces of knowledge of Shire lore, and Bilbo's heart fluttered excitedly that someone, an outsider of his lands, would put in so much time into understanding them. Bilbo hoped that he and King Thorin could become good friends, as it'd be nice to have another leader who understood the woes of their positions (even if Thorin's was far grander than his own). Perhaps one day, King Thorin could even call Bilbo by his name…

But, before that could even happen, Bilbo needed to cook up a large feast, knowing his guests would be even hungrier than Raoc was whenever he came with another letter, so early on Heavensday Bilbo got to work, clearing out more than half their pantry in the process.

"Alright! Foods all set up…According to King Thorin, they'd most likely arrive between now-ish and sundown…so we've got a second for ourselves to catch our breath." Bilbo grinned, washing the flour from his hands before going off to change his clothes, all covered in food despite wearing an apron.

As the Bagginses all waited, excited for their guests, Bilbo couldn't help but sigh as he watched the front door waiting for it to ring, knowing that the food was going to get cold. When it was well past sun-down, Bilbo picked up a sleeping Frodo, struggling to carry him now that he came right up to his jaw…and took him to bed, before the adults reconvened to ease their nerves with some hot toddies, waiting til' it was very early in the morning to go to bed.

The next morning they tossed what went bad from the prepared feast, and packed up everything else so that Bilbo and Frodo could go out and deliver the leftovers to their neighbors while Bella and Bungo took their time cooking another feast for their dwarven guests…

Who once again didn't show up.

The next day, Bilbo had half a mind to send word to King Thorin with his pigeon, asking if he'd misunderstood what day of the week Heavensday was…because it was now Highday and he was getting worried (and rather crossed). Though on the outside hobbits may seem a very polychronic, doing as they wished when they wished, unhurried and treating time as a very flexible and malleable thing…they most certainly were not.

One could show up late to a party, because if the invitation said eleven in the morning, all knew that to mean that at eleven, you could show up to help finish setting up, and that the party truly didn't start until the afternoon. But if someone sent you a letter telling you that you'd arrive on a specific day, and they didn't…well, needless to say, there would often be a search party out the next day to make sure they'd not fallen into a ditch somewhere.

The next day, Sterday, Bilbo and Frodo waved goodbye to Bungo and Belladonna as they left for their own event in Tukburrow. They were clearly disappointed that they'd not get to see the dwarves before heading south for Aunt Donnamira's (Bella's little sister) birthday.

Frustrated at these dwarves for not showing up quite yet, Bilbo doubted they'd show up again today. "Alright, Frodo lad…" He sighed after they waved his parents off with teary eyes, knowing that, should the dwarves show up at all, Bilbo would be gone when they came back.

He prepped some food for Frodo for the day, having explained that he would stop in at noon, and then hopefully be home by nine…Seeing as the dwarves hadn't shown up, and that his cousin Fortinbras wasn't available to take on his role as Deputy Thain until Aunt Donnamira's birthday was over and done with, Bilbo figured he should catch up on the work that had piled up.

"I understand, Papa." Frodo nodded firmly, determined to prove to his father that he was brave and responsible, and that he could handle himself while Bilbo was away.

"Good lad…now, if I'm not home by nine, please-"

"Go to the Gamgees and bring the food with me. Yessir!" He smiled and gave a little salute even. Playfully, Bilbo gave a salute right back. Bilbo ruffled his hair and pressed a quick kiss to his still chubby cheeks.

"Be good…I love you, Frodo." He smiled before leaving.

"Love you too, Papa…" Frodo mumbled, sniffling as he wasn't often left home alone. But then he smiled as he realized that meant he could sneak a glance at some of the books he wasn't yet allowed to read for whatever reason, mostly because they had history that was too violent for sensitive hobbit eyes.

But, as Frodo always reminded everyone, he was a dwobbit, and so his eyes were only half sensitive to such things. He hid the books once Bilbo returned home for lunch as promised, and then got back to reading once he left again. Frodo was enraptured by the stories he read, and didn't notice at all when the sun started to set…

He also refused to admit that the stories may perhaps be too much for his half-sensitive eyes. As he huddled around the fireplace in the sitting room, he turned page after page, learning about stories his family had kept from him as he was 'too young'.

"For des-pit-e? Despitay? Des…Dees? Despite! For despite the Dark Lord Sauron being slain by Elendil and Gil-galad, and the One Ring destroyed by Elrond Half-Elven, and Isildur, King of Gondor…many of the dark creatures of the Enemy still pre-va-il…pre…prev-ale? Prevail! Orcs (also known as Goblins) still roam Arda, as well as trolls, giant-spiders, and Barrow-Wights…" Frodo read aloud as he ran his finger along the lines, taking in the terrifying words.

He'd always believed that if the Dark Lord had been killed all those years ago, then all the evil had been killed along with him…It was terrifying to know that was not the case.

"Barrow-wights live West of the Misty Mountains, in the hilly region known as the Barrow Downs in the far-East of the Shire," He squeaked as his finger began to tremble, holding his place in the book to flip to the map in the back of it, finding out just how far away the lands were, and feeling relieved that Hobbiton was a good ways away, before returning to his page.

"The Barrow-Wights were set upon the lands by the Witch-King of Angmar…and have pla-gu-ed…plah-goo-ed? that region ever since. Their voices are as cold as ice, and their touch even colder. It is said you can know of a Barrow-Wights approach in two ways…the sound of their many rings clinking on their bony fingers right as they reach out to touch you…or from the sound of their bony knuckles rapping against your door in the dead of night, in an attempt to lure out their prey from their homes…"

Frodo felt cold run down his spine then when he heard the first knock knock knock at his door, and if he screamed, that was between the hearth and himself. Quickly, he slammed the book closed as if he'd brought this fate upon himself by reading it, and scampered away into the darkness of Bag End. Unlike his father and grandparents, he could see just fine in the dark, and made his way to his father's armory to grab one of his wooden swords to protect himself — as all of Bilbo's other weapons were kept much too high for Frodo to get.

Knock!

Knock!

Knock!

The Barrow-Wight pounded their gnarled, ghostly fist against the green door of Bag End. Frodo should have paid attention…he should have gone to the Gamgees when it was nine and Bilbo was not yet home…he'd been so engrossed in his reading that he didn't even eat his dinner or supper, and now he was being punished. He was going to have his soul sucked from his life by the ghosts…but he'd not go down without a fight.

Tip-toeing carefully with his sword in hand, he made it to the front door, taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, and swung it open, shouting his best warrior cry before he started attacking the scary, cloaked ghost that had come for him.

"Argh! Get back you wight!" He shrieked out as he thwacked his sword against the padded cloak…and in the heat of battle, he couldn't help but think that it felt for more like hitting a person than it did hitting a skeletal ghost…

"…Ye' alright there, laddie?" Came the gruff, rolling voice of his enemy…but he didn't sound like he was colder than cold…and when Frodo hesitated, and stole a glance at the beast, he saw that he certainly didn't look cold either. In fact, he looked rather warm, as he wore many layers, and probably should be wearing a hat too, seeing most of his head was bald.

With tears of relief welling in his eyes, Frodo's warrior cry turned into that of a scared child, and he dropped his sword and ran into the arms of the strange dwarf at his door step. He didn't hesitate to hold the boy, as all dwarves loved to dote on children, and he'd be damned if he'd let a child be scared in his presence.

"Oh, there ya' go…there there…let it out. Are ye' alright? I can promise ye' I'm no wight or what have ye..." He promised, patting Frodo's back soothingly, allowing the trembling boy the nuzzle into his warm chest for protection as the dwarf knelt down to be at his level.

"Wh-what are you then?" He asked, finally pulling away and rubbing at the tears in his eyes.

"I am a dwarf! And you? Yer sure stronger than any hobbit I've ever seen." He smiled kindly, trying to boost the boy's confidence. He didn't truly think the boy was not a hobbit.

Frodo was not ashamed of his mixed blood, nor was a single person in his family (and those who had been ashamed were no longer considered family, thank you very much,) but that didn't mean he just told strangers willy-nilly about his lineage.

Bilbo had to beg Frodo to keep it a secret, and to only tell people once he was confident in their trustworthiness, and Frodo had eventually agreed after many conversations with Bilbo reassuring him that he loved that Frodo was a dwobbit.

"I'm am a hobbit, thank you very much." He spoke firmly with his hands on his hips, trying to emulate his father as much as he could. "And who are you? Are you one of Mister King Thorin's friends?" He asked, the adrenaline leaving him and making him sleepy.

"Indeed, I am. I am Dwalin…at your service, little master." He said as he rose to his feet, giving a bow. "And I take it ye aren't Thain Derwen, are ye?"

Frodo couldn't help but giggle at that, as he knew he and his father didn't look very much alike at all, and bowed in return. "I am not…Papa said I'm not supposed to give my name to strangers, though…"

"And right yer papa is. Is he Thain Derwen, then?" Dwalin asked, seeing in this dwobbit the same mannerisms his little cousins had growing up, and he couldn't hold back a smile, thinking all kids must be the same in that regard.

"He is!"

"And where is he?"

"He's working."

"…And leaving you home alone?" Dwalin asked, his eyes narrowing at that, upset that anyone would leave such a precious pebble unattended, as the world was a scary place.

"Not all day! A-and I was…I wasn't doing my job…I was supposed to go to my friend's house…b-but I was reading and got distracted…a-and then I got scared and…please don't tell my Papa I was reading the top shelf books?"

"Top shelf books?"

"The ones with stories too scary for me…I thought th-that I was brave enough for it…but they really are scary!" He confessed, eyes watering once more.

"Now, now…none of that. I won't tell yer Papa anything you don't want me to." Dwalin promised.

"And Mister Dwalin is the best at keeping secrets!" Grinned another dwarf as they popped out from behind Dwalin, making both the bald dwarf and scared dwobbit shout in surprise.

"Ye bastard! Ye'll scare the shite out of the pebble!" Dwalin scolded, grinding his knuckles into the blond dwarf's head before another dwarf popped up on his other side.

"Awe, but it's all fun and games!" The other dwarf, one with brown hair, chuckled, patting Mister Dwalin on the back.

"That's not very nice!" Frodo glared up at them, catching their attention as the odd child stood his ground, his scowl stirring something within the dwarves on his doorstep.

"You apologize to Mister Dwalin now! It's rude to scare people! Rude people don't get seconds on dessert!" He stated firmly, as if it were the rule of the whole world and not just his household.

Blinking at the boy, then at each other, the two nodded. "We're sorry, Mister Dwalin." They spoke seriously, giving him a bow, before turning back to Frodo who was nodding his head, accepting it.

"And what are your names? Mister Dwalin introduced himself to me, and you have to as well. If you don't, it means you don't have any manners." He humphed.

"Ah! Fili!" The blond smiled.

"And Kili." The brunet said, trying to keep a serious face, only to grin when the blond pushed him forward so that they both bowed in sync, and popped back up with bright grins.

"At your service!" They said together, and smiled even wider when they saw they made the boy giggle.

"Well…since Papa has been waiting for you all, I guess I can invite you all inside." Frodo decided then, deciding to try his hand at being a good host like his father was. He stepped aside and held his arm out to invite them in. "Welcome to Bag End! P-please take off your boots and put them there…a-and you can put your weapons in the armory…a-and your coats on the pegs there, i-if you want!" He instructed as he closed the door behind them, guiding them through the smial.

"Armory?" Blinked Fili curiously, as his Uncle had left the impression that hobbits didn't have such things. Maybe a third pantry…but an armory?

"Mhmm…this way. It's where Papa keeps his swords and stuff…" Frodo explained, holding his wooden sword too to put it away.

Looking around the room, the dwarves were quite impressed at the collection. It wasn't terribly grand, as there were many blades of elven make, but they were still quite impressive none the less.

"Why does yer papa have an armory?" Dwalin asked, setting his own weapons where Frodo pointed, his ax joining Fili's many knives and swords.

"Because he's the Thain. Obviously." Frodo snorted, as if that actually explained anything to the three dwarves as he escorted them back out of the room and to the dining table.

Hurriedly, Frodo began pulling out his dinner and supper that Bilbo had made for him, and set it on the table for the dwarves to eat with him.

"Do ye know when yer' papa will be back?" Dwalin asked after swallowing his bite of bread, not wanting the boy to scold him again for chewing and talking at the same time.

'My house, my rules.' He had said firmly to them all, and refused to budge on the matter.

"No…he's usually back by now…but he also has had a lot of work to catch up on…" Frodo sniffled, missing his father dearly, as he was without him, and his grandparents, and as kind as these dwarves were, they weren't his papa.

"Well, we'll just have to keep you entertained until he comes home, then?" Kili grinned cheekily.

Soon enough, Bag End was filled with song and cheer as the dwarves and dwobbit waited for the Thain to return home. After much joviality, they settled on swapping stories, and when it was Frodo's turn, he'd excitedly gotten up onto the coffee table, as if it were a stage so he could tell his story.

"And so! The Thain yelled at the men and scolded them for hurting such an old tree…but hobbits are small, and men are not…so they hurt him very badly. But he stood his ground…it was then that the Thain remembered how afraid men are of magic, and pointed at the sky, calling upon our Lady Yavanna to strike his enemy dead!"

The dramatic pause left the perfect amount of room for Kili to blink and ask the question Frodo was waiting for.

"Wait, hobbits have magic?" He asked, confused and excited.

"Nope!" Frodo giggled, thinking it all so very silly. "While Hobbits are small and men are not…Hobbits are clever, and men are not. He'd known that there was a storm brewing for days, and the change in the air made him certain it'd start raining…and right as pa…I-I mean…the Thain…pointed at the sky and called out…" He took a deep breath and tossed his arms out wide.

"Boom! Thunder and lightning! The storm was so scary that the men all screamed and ran away! As they ran, the Thain shouted that men of such ill-report were not welcome in the Shire!" He grinned, panting as he finished his tale…but before the dwarves could so much as clap, impressed by the story and the story teller, they saw arms wrap around the boy.

"The word is 'ill repute' not 'ill-report' Frodo, lad…" Snorted Bilbo as he set his son down off the coffee table, straining to hold him as always now a days.

"Papa! You're home! I missed you!" Frodo cried happily as he hugged Bilbo, refusing to let him go.

"I missed you too…h-hey now, don't hug me too tight…Papa's a little hurt so you've gotta be gentle, alright?" Bilbo winced but stayed smiling. "There ya' go…alright, it's night time, I think…why don't you go ahead and change into your pajamas and write in 'ill repute' in your word journal so you can show O'pa later, hmm?" He asked, and Frodo nodded, hugging him more carefully before running off to his room.

Once Frodo was out of sight, he turned to the dwarves in his house.

"As angry as I am about you lot being late by nearly three days…" Bilbo said, taking a deep breath in, wheezing as he did so. "I'll forget all about it if one of you can help bandage me up, please…" He asked sheepishly, and the dwarves could see the pale, clammy skin on the Thain as he smiled weakly at them.

"Bandage? Are you alright, Thain Derwen?" Fili panicked, rushing to the hobbit as he realized that this was the hobbit they were to meet.

"Just Derwen is fine…A-and yes. I'm fine…I just had a bit of a tumble, is all." Bilbo admitted with a weary smile.

They wasted no time helping cleaning and wrapping up Bilbo's terribly scraped and bruised side and shoulder, disinfecting it as Bilbo bravely tolerated the sting.

"It's why I insist that a smial in the ground is better…" He groaned, looking at his shirt and lamenting the stains and tears on it now. "It's harder to fall off of a hill than it is to fall off a thatched roof. I'm glad I caught them in time before they fell…I just wish I didn't fall off in the process…"

"Why were you even thatching up a roof? You're the Thain, I thought?" Kili asked with a furrowed brow.

"I am…which is why I was helping thatch up a roof. Where help is needed, I'll be there. Mister Proudfoot shouldn't have even been on the roof at his age…I'm young…a scrape can hurt but I'm fine…he might have broken something or worse…" Bilbo frowned at the thought, as he cared deeply for the older citizens of the Shire.

"I didn't realize the damage was so bad — on me, or the roof — so I stayed to continue fixing it…took all night. When I left for home, the pain made it hard to move, so I was very slow going…If a cart had passed, I'd have accepted a ride, but none did so home I walked." Bilbo explained casually. "Thank you." He smiled when the bandaging was done.

"Of course, yer' majesty." Dwalin bowed back, and Bilbo snorted. "Oh, please none of that. I'm not a king or a majesty who needs to be bowed at…not like yours at least." He explained, leading them out of the bathroom where Dwalin patched Bilbo up, and the two princes waited out in the hall. As soon as they shut the door, the sound of slipping and sliding came their way, and Frodo practically skated his way into the group.

Now in his pajamas and sock-slippers Frodo eagerly stared up at everyone, and took Bilbo's hand.

"Can they give one more story before bed, Papa?" He asked, his eyes wide and pleading and Bilbo sighed.

"I can't say no when you give me that look…so that's cheating. But…I suppose if you ask nicely, maybe the nice dwarves will give you a story." Bilbo smiled, and watched as Frodo looked to the three.

"Can you please tell one more story? Please please please?" He pleaded with the dwarves.

"You want another story? Alright then…what kind are you looking for?" Fili asked, holding his arms out to Frodo and picking him up effortlessly, which made him smile and giggle in delight.

"Do dwarves have stories about knights and kings and princes and stuff? Oh! What about slaying dragons? O-or saving princesses?" Frodo asked eagerly, and Fili was beyond thrilled that this was the story the boy wanted.

"We have the best story about a King who slayed a dragon. In fact, that king is my Uncle, King Thorin Oakenshield!" Fili began telling his tale dramatically, carrying Frodo back to the sitting room.

"Your Uncle killed a dragon?" Gasped Frodo in amazement, having not heard that story from Bilbo yet.

"He did, laddie! He did indeed!" Fili nodded with a joyful grin, setting the boy down on the floor to sit.

"How'd he do it? With a sword? With a spear? With his own two hands?" Frodo asked with increasing enthusiasm, acting out each motion as if he were slaying the wrym himself.

"In the end, he did it more with his cunning than anything else. You see, our king is very fond of riddles…and dragons always enjoy a good game of riddles. When King Thorin proved he was far smarter than Smaug the Terrible, the dragon nearly died of humiliation!"

"So…no blood and guts?" Frodo pouted, unimpressed. Bilbo on the other hand had the fleeting thought that if he were to ever love again, perhaps the king who fights dragons with riddles would be the one he'd fall for. But the thought was fleeting and hardly worth any sort of consideration. His heart belonged to Holm, no matter how many years passed without him and no matter how short their time together had been.

"Oh there were blood n' guts, I promise. You see, in his rage and humiliation, the dragon thrashed around and revealed his weak spot to the king. So, when he flew from the mountain, the king grabbed a black arrow, and shot the beast down." Kili finished triumphantly.

"Wow…I guess that's alright then…It'd be better if he used his own hands though…That's what Helm Hammerhand did, did you know that?" Frodo asked with bright blue eyes that continued to grow heavier and heavier. "But he didn't fight…a dragon…" He yawned before falling asleep with his head on Dwalin's lap, who was sitting behind him on the couch.

"Ah, poor lad…exhausted from all the excitement…" Dwalin smiled far too warmly for such a gruff exterior as he pat the boy's shoulder.

"That he is…But, as we're all leaving tomorrow, I figured he should be allowed to stay up late before I say goodbye. I've never left him so long…so I worry he'll be terribly lonely." Bilbo sighed, going over to Dwalin to take Frodo to bed.

The dwarves watched as Bilbo lifted up his very large son, struggling slightly to do so as he seemed to be even bigger and heavier than yesterday. Kili got to his feet and held out his arms.

"I'll carry him, if you'd like." He offered kindly, and Bilbo, exhausted, didn't put up a fight, and showed Kili to Frodo's room.

"…What's all this?" Kili asked before Bilbo blew out the light after tucking him in. Bilbo followed Kili's finger as he pointed at the shelves full of different rocks.

"The boy loves rocks. I've tried to find some books about them but they're few and far between here in the Shire." Bilbo explained as he closed the door on the dark room.

"Do hobbits like rocks?" Kili asked curiously as they made their way back to the main room after he took a moment to inspect the collection.

Bilbo shook his head. "I find rocks fascinating, but not like he does…I've tried to find him books to learn more, but they're few and far between in the Shire. He could have a hundred books on flowers, and never find one on stones outside of using them for a lovely decoration around the garden." Bilbo smiled softly. "He loves them, though…"

As the two closed the door behind them, and went back to the sitting room, Bilbo couldn't help but give a yawn. Looking through the walk way, he could see that the dishes were already cleaned and the house was very tidy, and he was very relieved for that because he did not have the energy to do it himself…but he still had enough energy to make them all a nice cup of tea.

"Well, whenever you leave Erebor to return to the Shire, we'll make sure we give you plenty of books to bring the boy." Kili smiled, turning to his brother and cousin, explaining that the Thain's son is an avid appreciator of rocks.

"Mighty good of you to be leaving such a sweet child like that for the sake of helping our people, Derwen…I'm sure my Uncle has already expressed his gratitude, but truly, you are saving our lives. Thank you." Prince Fili spoke far too seriously for how tired Bilbo was.

The hobbit waved his hand, dismissing his thanks as he never felt comfortable with such things. A simple 'thank you' was all Bilbo ever truly needed, even if this was quite more extensive than him thatching a roof.

"Think nothing of it, Prince Fili…I'm sure if a people reached out to you for help you'd do the same." Bilbo yawned, sipping his tea.

"I'd not be so sure…Dwarves are a very suspicious and mistrusting people. We don't typically go out of our way unless we see the clear gain in it…but Uncle wants to change that. So…Hopefully after all this is said and done, our newfound friendship will be the beginning of a new era for our people…" The prince said warmly, taking a large gulp of his piping hot tea, and Bilbo smiled fondly at the flash of memory that crossed his mind.

How Belladonna and Bungo had told Bilbo in a letter once that Holm had been able to drink near-boiling water without so much as flinching! It was terribly impressive and terribly terrifying, thinking that their new friend was going to burn himself from the inside out, only for him to ask for a second cup.

"Well, I suppose that is something to drink to ,then. To new friendships and to learning to trust." Bilbo smiled, holding his tea cup out to them slightly, and they followed suit, swallowing their tea in large gulps as Bilbo sipped it slowly.

"And on that note, I think it's time for bed…" He yawned, taking the empty cups and saucers and leading them to their shared room, where the bed was large enough for the princes, and the couch was just as comfortable as the bed for Dwalin.

Bilbo wished them all a goodnight, and pointed out his room if they needed him for anything, and left them to it.

"Mister Dwalin," Kili began softly, rolling onto his stomach as he propped himself up on his elbows. "You always made it sound like hobbits were these rude creatures who kidnapped Uncle…I'm surprised you were so nice to them!" He confessed.

"W-well…the little one isn't so bad…can't fault a pebble for the crimes of their elders…" Dwalin scoffed, blushing as his cousins pointed out his narrow mindedness.

"And what about Thain Derwen? He seems fine as well! And the hobbits who helped us here seemed just as nice. Do you think that perhaps Uncle was right? That he wasn't kidnapped and held here against his will?" Fili asked, laying beside his brother in the same way, both peering down at Dwalin with mischievous grins, always loving to prove him wrong.

"We shall see, alright? I'm not gonna trust them just yet…for all we know they're just acting nice," Dwalin suggested, fluffing his pillow and pulling his warm blanket up over his shoulders. "But…the bedding is quite nice…so I'll give them that."

"And the tea, and the food…" Kili added.

"And the stories…the little prince was fun. Reminds me of Kili when he was younger." Fili teased, knocking his head against Kili's teasingly.

"I'll take that as a compliment. He is a charming little fellow, I think." He grinned, nodding.

"Well…we'll see how things go. Can't trust em' quite yet…alright? Don't get yer hopes up until our mountain's bellies are full…" Dwalin reminded, and with a heavy sigh, the two agreed.

Chapter Text

Leaving the Shire was quite the task. Bilbo had to explain that his party of farmers and gardeners had greatly diminished from two farmers, two gardeners, and one agronomist—which Bilbo needed to explain was someone who analyzed soil, and helped plan crops, and a great many other things— who all realized that the trip was indeed quite long, and couldn't leave the Shire for such a length…and now consisted of one Thain.

Dwalin somehow managed to keep his eyes dry while Frodo did not, saying goodbye to Bilbo, and it became an even harder struggle when Frodo approached the three dwarves and gave him some of his favorite rocks for good luck, and as thanks for keeping his papa safe.

"Do ye know what these rocks mean?" Dwalin asked curiously, having realized very quickly how much the boy loved learning.

"…They're rocks." Frodo said plainly, as if the only thing that could have language is flowers.

"Aye…but to dwarves, all rocks are special, just like ye hobbits and yer flowers." Dwalin smiled, admiring the unpolished rocks, still able to see the beauty hiding beneath the dirt. "Let me ask ye, did you find this one in a river?" He asked, and smiled when Frodo nodded with wide eyes, amazed that someone knew right away.

"Mhmm! Found it in the Brandywine, how'd you know?" Frodo gasped, and enjoyed the long explanation the dwarf had to give, buying the Thain time to triple check everything in the two wagons, from food to seeds to the diagrams he'd taken from Holm's smithy showing how to build the proper tools that way they could be made in the Mountain, rather than weighing down their oxen with the extra weight.

Bilbo had been studying up on everything to make up for the loss of his hobbit companions, knowing he wasn't a farmer in any right, though he could grow a tomato better than any of them. But even the worst farmer in the Shire would be better than the best in the Lonely Mountain, so they'd have to make due with the Thain himself.

He took a deep breath and fed Raven, his trusty pony, an apple as he listened in on Dwalin telling him all about the river rocks that Frodo had given him, Fili, and Kili.

"See, this one you gave Fili is what we call 'Druzy Quartz' and we carry it for empowerment and spiritual growth…Then this one you gave me is also from a river, aye? It is what we call 'Clear Quartz' and it represents power, and empowerment from Mahal himself. The one here you gave Kili…that's 'petrified wood'…these are very special…"

"Why's that?" He asked with wide, excited eyes.

"Well, for us dwarves, we see them as a symbol of our Maker's love for his wife, yer Lady Yavanna…ye see, petrified wood is basically just wood that was left alone for enough time that many minerals were able to replace the wood…turning it from wood into rock…but it takes a very long time. That's why they represent patience, and slow transformation. I can say now, giving this to Kili was the right idea, as he needs to learn to slow down a little." Dwalin explained, enjoying just how proud the little faunt in front of him was.

For dwarves, it was easy to gift rocks to one another, especially for those with certain kinds of stone-sense. The rare few that had the ability to simply touch a stone and know it's properties without needing to see it, had quite a gift indeed. King Thror's wife had that gift, and Dis had it ever so slightly too.

"I knew it!" The boy squealed and practically vibrated with excitement. "I just knew that those were the right rocks to give!" He grinned, but before any explanation could be given, Bilbo had pulled his son into one last hug, grabbing him from behind as he strained to lift him up and gave an exaggerated groan.

"No more growing, alright? If you're taller than me when I get back home, I'll simply die!" He complained dramatically, making the boy giggle as he squeezed him tightly, nuzzling his cheek against his black curls.

"I can't just stop growing, Papa!" He laughed, swatting playfully at his father, who sighed playfully and nodded.

"I suppose you're right…well, what if I decided to drink whatever the dwarves drink and it makes me grow tall? What if I was as tall as Mister Dwalin here, hmm?" Bilbo asked, and Frodo practically fell back at the hilarious image, picturing Bilbo tall and broad as the bald dwarf.

"That's too funny, Papa!" He giggled in delight, and Bilbo feigned offense, simply happy to see his son laughing and smiling one last time before they headed out.

"Well, just you watch. I'll return home soon enough, and you'll see that I'm even taller than I was when I left, how about that?" He teased, kissing Frodo's temple before he let him go once more. "Alright…you be good now, my boy. Don't be greedy with the Gamgees, and make sure O'pa and O'ma are taken care of while I'm gone too…" He smiled, holding his pinkie out to his son, who took it back.

"Yes, Papa! I won't let you down." Frodo promised, and stepped back as they let go of each other's hands.

"You never have and you never could. I love you, Frodo…take care." He smiled, trying not to cry again.

"You too! M-mister Dwalin! Take care of my Papa for me! He gets into trouble sometimes…" Frodo warned with worry, but kept his jaw tight to keep his voice from wavering too much.

"Aye, it'd be my honor to keep yer Pa' safe." Dwalin agreed, bowing to who the dwarves kept calling 'the little prince'…and before any more tears could be shed, they were off.

They took the Great East Road, stopping outside of Bywater the first night, and then stopping in Frogmorton the next day, and the day after that they crossed the Brandywine Bridge and were greeted by the Thain's friends in Crickhollow who were eager to show the Dwarven guests the Derwen Tree that their Thain had saved, and despite being relatively ambivalent towards things like trees and flowers, there was something about seeing the old Oak standing tall and firm with some chunks taken out of it from before the Thain had intervened.

"So your name isn't Derwen?" Kili asked the next day as they continued toward Bree.

"It is. Well…it's one of my names. When I act as Thain, I go by Derwen…when I am acting as myself, I go by my given name…but as I am not, at the moment, myself, I regret I must insist you continue calling me as such." Bilbo explained, and though Kili and Fili thought it sounded very kingly indeed to put aside your own personhood so you could act as a leader, Dwalin thought it sounded very suspicious.

He had a nagging feeling…something telling him that something wasn't quite right…He kept glancing toward their wagons, still not fully convinced that two small wagons carried enough food to feed their people and that of Dale…but he'd kept his mouth shut on behalf of Thorin who had begged him to be civil.

As they passed through the Barrow Downs, Bilbo took his turn telling his own stories, after Fili and Kili had done so, and decided telling the terrifying tale of the Barrow Wights was fitting for where they were. Of course, Bilbo knew that they didn't actually haunt the area they were in, as they tended to stay further north in the Downs, but it was still an appropriate tale.

"It is said that you'll know they're upon you when you hear either their rings clinking on their knobby fingers…or when they knock at your door to take you away…" Bilbo said eerily, and while Dwalin simply enjoyed the tale —keeping it to himself that the little prince had accused him of being a Wight the other day — Fili and Kili were trembling and trying to act unaffected by the story, looking around nervously as the road around them darkened.

The winds moaned and rustled the trees of the Old Forest behind them, and even though they were well enough away from the woods, the sound of the trees groaning as they moved echoed down the road to them. The eerie sounds seemed to grow closer and closer, and the moaning and groaning of the woods and winds turned into what they all thought were soft cries.

"Hold on…" Bilbo ordered, holding his hand up to stop, and carefully climbed down from Raven, looking to Dwalin to join him. "There…there's something in the wagon…" Bilbo spoke softly, his brow down in a deep, nervous scowl as the two of them approached the back. They opened the locked door slowly, and the sound of crying became more and more clear.

Entering the wagon, Bilbo sneaked, his footsteps soft and undetectable over the sound of the wind, and he had his hand on his sword's hilt, ready to strike at whatever creature stowed away in their wagon, as he'd heard tales of badgers crying, and he did not want a badger eating all of the food before they even crossed the mountain!

In the back corner, Bilbo reached out and grabbed at the duck cloth that had been draped over some of the supplies, and nestled between two crates trembled a terrified little Frodo.

"We're not gonna have our souls sucked from us are we, Papa?" The poor boy trembled, holding tightly to his wooden sword to defend himself and his father if it came down to it.

"Frodo Baggins you silly goose! What are you doing here, my love?" Gasped Bilbo as he knelt down and pulled his son into his arms, comforting the shaking child.

"I…wanted to protect you wanted to help Mister Dwalin keep you safe…I didn't want you to go alone…A-and I didn't want to stay with the Gamgees! Wh-why can't I go with you?" He cried into Bilbo's hold, and Bilbo pulled him out of the dark wagon, and into the light of their torches on the wagons.

"Because it's dangerous…" Bilbo soothed his son as they sat on the edge of the wagon, giving a relieved yet exasperated look to the dwarves who watched the father soothe his son. "Think of how sad I'd be if I couldn't protect you! It's a papa's job to protect their son, not the other way around, you silly…" He sighed, rubbing Bilbo's back.

"But you…you were talking about the wights…a-and what if they got you and you left me all alone!" He cried terribly loudly, and Bilbo was glad that they were at least somewhat muffled in his hug.

"Oh boy, those are just stories…they're real, yes…but they're much farther north…Now…" He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he calmed himself. "We will be going to Bree…and when we're in for the night, I'll send Peri to Brandy Hall and see if one of your cousins can come fetch you tomorrow…You must have made Missus Bell so scared with you disappearing like this! How long have you been in here?" He asked, looking around and seeing how everything was just as he had put it originally.

"…I followed you to Bywater…I got in while you were sleeping…I'm sorry, Papa…" Frodo sniffled, his fear of Wights being replaced by his regret for disappointing his father. "Please don't send me home…I want to stay with you!" He pleaded.

It was a conversation they had many times since Bilbo and King Thorin began communicating. Frodo would beg to be taken to the mountain, always saying something about maybe finding Holm there…and Bilbo didn't have the heart to break it to his son that at the time of his father's disappearance, he'd not wanted dwarves to know of his existence.

Even to this day, Bilbo, Bella, and Bungo were staunchly committed to making sure Holm was never mentioned to another dwarf. If they were to go to Erebor and ask if they knew such a person…what if it didn't end well? And with how much Frodo looked like his Sire, too…What if someone recognized Frodo and suspected something?

"We…" Bilbo turned back, seeing the three dwarves staring at them patiently, and sighed. "We will have this conversation once food is in our bellies and we're in a warm bed, okay?" Bilbo relented and carried his son out of the wagon so he could ride up front next to Dwalin.

"A-are you mad at me Mister Dwalin?" Frodo asked the large dwarf as he leaned in closer to his protective presence, still uneasy about the Barrow Wights.

"Nae, I can't be upset…I wasn't upset with those two when they sneaked out when they were yer' age too…but I will say, you promised yer' Papa you would be good…"

"I-I know…" He sniffled, wrapping his hand around Dwalin's cloak, feeling safe beside him. "But I'll be even more good if you let me stay with you! I'll help you protect Papa!" Frodo insisted.

"I can protect myself, my lad…You know this." Bilbo chimed in from where he rode beside the wagon.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, or at least they pretended to, as Fili and Kili took Frodo to where they were, enjoying entertaining the pebble as they entered Bree.

But as they entered the gates of the Mannish town, Dwalin noticed how uneasy the Thain became.

"Something the matter, Thain?" He asked as he stepped closer to the hobbit, pride bubbling up as he felt the Thain relax a fraction.

"…Bree…isn't somewhere I like very much…This is my first visit, and I had truly hoped to never visit here…" He admitted, shuddering as he caught sight of one of the notice boards, and walked towards it, looking at multitude of contracts available, goods for sale, and places open for business…and he could easily imagine the poster his parents put up here fourteen years ago when Holm went missing.

"Someone…Someone I care for very much went missing here…We've not heard word of them since…Please, don't let my son out of your sight…If…if he were to go missing…" Bilbo shook at the thought, and Dwalin, despite his reservations that still lingered about hobbits, felt compelled to pull the Thain closer to him, easing his worries.

"Don't you worry, Thain…we'll keep him safe. And you." He vowed roughly, and led the hobbit away from the board, as their party entered the Prancing Pony for the night after putting their oxen and ponies away for the night.

Once they all had food in their bellies, and were in a room just for themselves (as Bilbo paid extra to not share a room with any men), Bilbo and the dwarves confronted Frodo.

"I'm sending Peri to the Master of Buckland first thing in the morning. He rides fast and will get you before you can so much as finish your supper." Bilbo said firmly, his tone not necessarily harsh, but it left no room for arguing.

"Papa…please…" Frodo begged, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "Why don't you want me with you?" He whimpered.

"Because if you're with me, you might get hurt!" Bilbo said a little too loudly, and Frodo flinched slightly at the raised voice. "I'm sorry, Fro…" He said softly, pulling his son into his lap so he could take care of the mess of hair on the boy's head, finally noticing how knotted and frizzy it had all gotten. "I don't mean to yell…but I'm worried about you…I couldn't stand it if you got hurt…"

"D-Derwen?" Pipped up Kili, looking a little nervous as he spoke, and Dwalin gave the young prince a death glare as if daring him to speak…and dare he did. "As you know, several more company members will be joining us further ahead at the Last Bridge, and they love pebbles! And the route is actually much safer than you think, promise! The main road across the Misties is well maintained, and once we're past it, we'll have an escort to guide us along the Old Forest Road, then Dale, and then the Lonely Mountain. He'll be perfectly safe!" Kili insisted, and Dwalin glared at him, as well as Fili who was nodding eagerly along with his brother.

They were both too young still to understand the plight that Bilbo experienced at the moment, thinking only of how upsetting it was as a child to be left behind…and not how upsetting it was for a parent to bury their child…

"I promise I'll be good, Papa! I promise! Please! I want to see the mountain, a-and I want…I want to meet more dwarves! A-and…and I want to be with you! Please?" He begged, and Bilbo's heart ached at the thought of denying his son anything when he pleaded so desperately.

"Did you even bring a pack for the road, hmm?" Bilbo asked, crossing his arms in an almost childish way, as if trying to find any reason to say 'no', not wanting to result to 'because I said so' if he could help it.

"I did! I brought my own food, and I brought two changes of clothes and extra socks…a-and I brought maps too, because O'pa said you always need a map when you go to new places, and I have…umm…I also have my sword too! So I'll be very careful!" He insisted, his face more serious than Bilbo had ever really seen.

Turning to Dwalin, Bilbo took a deep breath. "Mister Dwalin, in your expert opinion, how safe are these roads?" Bilbo asked, trusting the gruff dwarf to be honest.

"It depends, honestly. Our route is the easiest…We're leaving at the best time of year so weather shouldn't be a problem. We've enough outposts scattered along the route, both dwarven and mannish, to keep bandits at bay…So long as we keep our correspondence with Erebor frequent, and don't stray from the path, it should be an easy trip. The king wouldn't allow his nephews to go at this age with only me as their escort if he didn't rust the route…" Dwalin explained, even if it wasn't the answer that would keep Frodo home.

"…Please, Papa? I'll be good…it's safe!" Frodo begged once more.

"…Fine…But if anything dangerous happens at all you will stick with Mister Dwalin like sap on a tree, understood?" Bilbo finally acquiesced, rubbing his temples to get rid of the stress headache that continued to grow. He turned again to the dwarf, and gave him the most serious expression ever. "You will guard him with your life, do you understand?" He ordered with unwavering resolve, and though the hobbit was not his king, he didn't want to know what would happen if he denied the command.

Not that he would, mind you, for he had a soft spot for the pebble, and would rather die himself than let the boy be in harms way.

"Aye, Thain Derwen, I'll keep an eye on him like a hawk." He promised, and Bilbo felt relieved at that.

"Alright…alright…" He nodded before turning to Frodo once more. "Did you pack your toothbrush?" He asked next, and watched the boys cheeks flush red as he looked away, pretending not to hear.

"Oh, well it's a good thing I brought a spare in case mine broke. Lets go wash up and get ready for sleep. You will write Missus Bell an apology letter for running off before that, though, understood?" He asked his son as they entered the privy and closed the door.

On the twelfth day from Hobbiton, they entered the small outpost that had been set up on the East and West of the Last Bridge. It was there that they stopped early for the day so that they could resupply and meet their newest additions to the party.

Bifur and Bofur were two woodworkers who, despite having been apart of King Thorin's Company, and were able to enjoy the easy life of Lords inside Erebor, still greatly enjoyed traveling between the Lonely Mountain and their old home of Ered Luin, selling their beautiful wood workings, and most importantly toys.

"That's a nice sword you've got there, little master!" Grinned Bofur, bowing to Frodo as he admired the woodwork.

"My O'pa made it for me for Yule! It is supposed to be a copy of my Papa's sword…but mine doesn't light up like his can…" Frodo pouted as he happily showed it off to the toy-makers.

"Well, your O'pa is quite the crafter, I see…this is very lovely. Very lovely indeed." He praised, handing it back to Frodo who still had a small pout. "Is everything alright, Laddie?" Bofur asked, his deep brown eyes filled with sadness as he saw the melancholic look in the boy's bright blue ones.

"Y-yes…It's just that as much as my sword is very lovely…" He sniffled, as he knew not to be greedy, and so he began berating himself for such greedy feelings…but he knew also to speak his mind. "I…I think your axes are quite lovely too…but Papa doesn't have an ax and neither do I…" He frowned, trying to express his feelings without sounding like a child (even if that was what he was).

"Well…Axes are a bit too heavy for hobbits sometimes…So it'd make sense if your Papa didn'-"

"My papa is the strongest hobbit in the entire Shire. He can carry a hundred swords if he wanted to!" Frodo argued, crossing his arms before he let Bofur finish speaking.

The dwarf smiled brightly at that, thinking that the little hobbit looked quite like their King when he scowled like that, and he wondered if there was just something about royalty being told they couldn't do something that gave all of them the same look, no matter where they were from.

"Ah, you're right, little prince…well then…I think that means it is high time you had an ax, aye?" He asked, a twinkle in his eyes that was reflected in Frodo's own matched enthusiasm, nodding eagerly.

In the morning when they left, they had another wagon in their party, as well as Bifur and Bofur of the family Ur, and Nori of the family Ri, all of whom had been in Thorin's company. Frodo was thrilled to be surrounded by so many heroes, asking them non-stop questions that none of them minded in the slightest, easing Bilbo's worried heart.

"So you promise there are no more spiders in the Greenwood?" Frodo asked worriedly as he walked between Bifur and Bofur and holding their hands, giggling whenever they swung him up really high and guided him back down carefully.

"Well, we can never be too sure there about that…" Bofur said honestly. "But the elves of the Greenwood are our friends now, and they'll not let anything hurt us as we go back home, so you can trust that we'll be safe." He assured, and it seemed to be enough to ease the boy's heart.

"We should stop for the day…" Bilbo spoke up suddenly, his eyes looking up at the sky wearily.

"Why? We've can go another five or six miles at least." Nori argued, looking up as well and seeing nothing.

"It's gonna rain soon…I'd rather we didn't get stuck in it." Bilbo explained, predicting the road becoming a muddy swamp that their ponies and oxen would struggle to pull the wagons out of…

"We'll go until the rain gets too bad, alright? We need to get at least twenty miles in today, we're already behind from leaving late…" Nori grumbled, shaking his head as he insisted they keep moving.

"A-alright…I trust your knowledge of these roads." Bilbo agreed rather reluctantly, but he didn't feel like arguing was going to do him any good, so he walked over to Frodo, and buttoned his cloak up and pulled the hood over his head. The boy trusted his father more than life, and if Thain Derwen said it was going to rain, then it was going to rain.

After two more miles of travel, the first drizzling of rain began, and by the third mile it was as if the sky had opened up on them specifically. Through the rain, Nori pointed out it was less dark towards the forest north of the road, and they all agreed to find shelter amongst the trees and to camp for the night.

They tented themselves up, and with the canopy of the trees, they were able to stay dry until it cleared up around supper time. It was then that Frodo approached Bilbo with an intense look.

"What is it my boy?" Bilbo asked worriedly.

"We're out of mushrooms…" He muttered gravely, and Bilbo felt his own heart sink.

"Oh? Well…we cannot have that now can we. I'm sure there are plenty around here. You stay with Mister Dwalin and the others and I'll go hunt some down, alright?" Bilbo promised, and right as he was about to leave camp, Fili and Kili grabbed him by either arm and dragged him back in.

"Where ya' going, Mister Derwen?" Kili asked, having started tacking 'Mister' at the beginning of his name.

"Foraging. My son wants mushrooms, so mushrooms he will have." Bilbo said firmly.

"Well, we're not letting you go off without one of us!" Fili huffed.

"Without both of us. We can help you find mushrooms!" Kili insisted, and as Bilbo looked back at the camp, seeing Dwalin nodding at Bilbo, the Thain sighed, knowing it'd be dangerous for him to go off on his own.

"Alright, alright…put those leather gloves on…don't touch anything with your skin…" He sighed, and the three of them headed into the forest.

As they worked, bombarding the Thain with a million questions from asking if the mushroom in Kili's hand was in fact, a mushroom…to silly questions about if hobbits could eat dirt, they collected a good amount of food. Not only did Bilbo have mushrooms in his sack, but also quite a bit of other things to add to their meals.

"No, that is hemlock not wild carrots! Do not eat that, lest you want to die. Please and thank you." Bilbo warned to Fili grimly, only to turn to Kili, "And do not even think about it! If it glows, do not eat it. Jack O'Lanterns are not chanterelles…You'll be sitting with your pants around your ankles wishing you were dead…" He said firmly, and quickly pointed out the proper one to pick.

This forest was brimming with perfectly forageable foods, if only the dwarves knew what was and what wasn't poisonous. He said that if they were even a little bit unsure to ask him, which meant anytime they found anything they dragging him over to the plant.

"Shhh!" Bilbo hushed quickly, grabbing the boys by their arms and pulling them behind a tree, his large, sensitive ears twitching as they picked up on a sound the dwarves didn't hear…but that they felt. Lumbering, heavy footsteps drew nearer, and Bilbo held the boys tightly, not letting them move from his side.

He knew that they were probably older than him in years around the sun, but their young, lively eyes made Bilbo believe that they were still in their late adolescence. He'd not let a child get hurt on his watch, thank you very much. Looking at his foraging knife, he realized he left his blade, a gift from Lord Elrond, back at camp, and felt rather naked without it in the face of unknown danger.

But the danger was only unknown for a second, as when a tree only a few yards from them toppled over, they could clearly see a hill troll walking in the direction of their camp, drawn to the fire. Bilbo's eyes widened in a panic at the thought of a troll getting his son, and before he could turn to Fili and Kili to tell them to run back to camp to get everyone moving to safety…he was running at the troll himself.

"Excuse me! Excuse me! Y-yes! Yes you there! Big fellow!" Bilbo called out to the troll, getting his attention. "You seem hungry!" He grinned in fear, and watched as the troll quickly, far too quickly for something so big, turned to see him.

"What'r you?" It asked him, peering down at him with beady, somewhat intelligent eyes.

"What am I?" Bilbo asked back, stepping back twice for each step the troll took toward him. "I am…I am also hungry! Very hungry! I see back there you've got a fire going…" He said, pointing the opposite way of camp where he could see a small glow of another camp sight. "Anything to share with someone as little as me?" He asked hopefully, trying to guide the troll away from his son and the other dwarves.

"Share? Why'd we share with you?" It asked Bilbo, walking a little more quickly to him, making the Thain squeak in surprise.

"Because you seem like a rather upstanding person, my friend! And upstanding people share…But I feel as if you're trying to prove me wrong…" He said nervously, tripping over a root and falling onto his back. He only barely managed to roll out of the way of the troll's hand as it leaned down to scoop him up.

"Now, now, that's not very nice at all." Bilbo tisked, trying to remain calm at least on the outside, as he knew the best way to remain on top of a situation was to act as if there was no situation at all.

"Stop yer wiggling…We got nothing to share with ye cuz' we've caught nothing yet! But ye've got a bit of meat on those bones it looks…ye'd make a nice addition to our stew…What kinda meat are ye' exactly? A funny breed of dwarf?" It asked, and Bilbo tried not to be offended.

"Dwarf? H-hardly! I'm…umm…I am a…fairy!" He blurted out, wondering if trolls were as afraid as magical folk as men seemed to be.

"…Where are yer' wings?" The troll asked as it looked around Bilbo's back.

"Under my cloak, thank you very much. It was raining, and you know how rain can be damaging for wings, don't you?"

"No…I don't. What's a fairy doing in my woods." It asked Bilbo, trying to grab him once more, and making Bilbo fall again as he tripped over his own feet this time.

"I was foraging for some food as well! We fairies are…the best cooks in all of Middle Earth you know!" Bilbo boasted, putting his hands on his hips, hoping his confidence would at least make the beast pause in his attempt at snatching him up. "If you'd let me, I could help you! I can help you get some lovely food to add to your stew! Tell me, what have you put in it already?" Bilbo asked, once again dodging the troll.

"…it's got water…and we also caught a squirrel…added some…some dirt to it for some spice…is what William said." It grumbled.

"Well, your friend William is a smart man…troll…putting dirt in for spice. But with only dirt, water, and a squirrel, it's not going to be a very good stew now is it?" Bilbo asked, and the troll couldn't seem to disagree.

"Well, what would you add to it?" It asked, reaching out for Bilbo again, who dodged again.

"Hmm…Well, there's not a lot of meat on a squirrel, but I know something that tastes like meat and has a good amount of flavor too!" Bilbo smiled, only to frown when he found himself backed up against a tree.

"Whats that, then?"

"Umm…those! Do you see those little things glowing over there?" Bilbo asked, pointing at the base of another tree. "The orange ones? Yes! Those are so very tasty! Same texture as meat, but only when it's in a stew." Bilbo explained, and much to his surprise, watched as the troll went and plucked up the Jack O'Lantern mushrooms before thrusting them at Bilbo to hold.

"What else? William said if we don't have enough to eat tonight it'll be my fault, so you better make it good." He ordered as Bilbo nodded quickly.

"Ummm…Yes! Umm…Well…carrots! Can't go wrong putting carrots in a stew! Do you see those pretty white flowers there? Yes! If you grab it around the stem and pull, you'll have some nice roots to eat!" He spoke nervously, and watched as the troll looked around and grabbed the hemlock from the ground as well, shoving it in Bilbo's arms too.

"Good good….oh! Rhubarb leaves! You'll want to cut the stalk, and eat the leaves, they're very filling." He smiled, as he guided the troll farther and farther away, pointing out all the poisonous foods he could.

"Oh! These here are morels! The best mushroom in the entire world, I promise you that!" Bilbo grinned as he helped collect a few false morels, adding it to the collection.

By the time the troll, Bert he'd learned his name to be, lead him back to the troll's camp, Bilbo was carrying quite a bit. His arms were full of Hemlock which he promised were carrots, poisonous mushrooms which he emphasized were as tasty as meat, plenty of leaves that were incredibly filling and would not at all give you the worst belly ache of your life, and — his favorite — Belladonna, who's lovely dark blue berries were the perfect finishing touch to any stew.

The other two trolls, William and Tom, Bilbo guessed from what he'd caught from Bert, looked at him in confusion, and Bert introduced him.

"This fairy said it'd make us our stew." He said gruffly and simply, pushing Bilbo towards the pot.

"Ah! And it can be added afterwards too, right?" Tom asked eagerly, licking his lips and making Bilbo's toes curl at the sight and stench of the place.

"Only after you cook the plants in it first…Don't tell me you add meat to your soups and stews first?" Bilbo gasped in offense. "No, no, no…you need to let the plants simmer first. Helps the flavor spread, I promise. Add me to it after if you must, but please, if I am to be eaten tonight, it better be the most delicious stew. Do as I say and I promise you wont be disappointed." Bilbo instructed, and surprisingly, they listened.

Bilbo asked for a spoon, and was handed a very large spoon indeed as he began tossing in the many poisonous plants, glad that they found so many false morels, because he was unsure how many it would take to kill such giant creatures…if they'd even feel the poison at all.

He stirred the pot, pretending to sip at it every so often and struggling not to gag at the terrible, eye watering smell, and promising them that all fairies looked like they were going to vomit when they smelled things that were very tasty…

"Alright! Here, all of you need to taste it at the same time…it's part of the little fairy touch I put in to make it even more tasty and filling, I promise." Bilbo smiled, and watched as the trolls grumbled and made their way over, all of them filling a bowl with the concoction, and drinking the whole thing down.

"Hmmm! It isn't bad at all." Bert said in pleasant surprise.

"Did you think I'd lie to you, Bert, my friend? I'm hurt." He sighed dramatically as he watched Bert go in for a second bowl, followed by Tom and William who both did the same.

"I like the way it makes my mouth tingle." Grinned Tom, nodding.

"Needs salt…or perhaps more dirt?" William shrugged as he also slurped his second bowl.

As the trolls did this, Bilbo carefully backed himself to the edge of the troll camp, and watched on as the trolls talked about their very cultured pallets, making the hobbit wonder how in the world trolls knew what a cultured pallet was.

"Psst! Mister Derwen! You've gotta get out of there!" Hissed Kili from a tree a little ways behind him. But Bilbo didn't turn away to run, needing to know the poison kicked in before he did anything, as he didn't want to be chased…Putting his hand behind him, he waved Kili away, but didn't look back.

"Mister Derwen! Come on!" He hissed again, and Bilbo began to grow worried that the boy would draw the trolls attention more than him running away would.

Right as Bilbo heard even more rummaging behind him, and dared to look behind quickly, catching a glance of Bofur and Bifur and Nori, and thank heavens not Dwalin and Frodo, all brandishing their weapons, ready to attack, the three trolls began to make rather unattractive sounds, pausing the dwarves from their imminent rescue of the Thain.

"M-maybe…the tingle on my tongue is too tingly…" Tom grumbled, swaying where he stood as his mouth and rear both produced the worst sounds and smells the forest had ever known.

Bert and William joined in on the flatulence, and soon enough the troll camp was filled with a disharmonious symphony of their bodies betraying them as the poison took its toll and racked through their bodies.

Before they could so much as look at Bilbo standing with his hand over his mouth and nose, his eyes watering at the grotesque smell, they were toppling over in pain, writhing where they lay as their bodies came undone from the inside out, spilling from any and all holes the trolls had, it would seem…it was by far the most gruesome thing Bilbo had ever seen.

But once they stopped moving, Bilbo was bombarded by Kili who pulled him into a tight, bone crushing hug.

"I thought you were gonna die!" He gasped out, and Bilbo patted his back gently as he felt the boy trembling slightly.

"Oh trolls couldn't get me, Kili…Don't you fret." He soothed reassuringly as the other dwarves approached him.

"Did you do that?" Nori asked, impressed even as his face crinkled up at the smell.

"Yes, indeed." Bilbo said with a rather triumphant tone as Bifur led everyone to where Dwalin and Fili had taken Frodo and their wagons.

"How'd you do it, though?" Kili asked eagerly.

"I told them to eat the plants I told you not to eat." Bilbo grinned with mirth and a twinkle in his eye, enjoying the way the dwarf shuddered, and Bilbo knew that none of the dwarves would ever argue with Bilbo on what was edible and what wasn't.

Chapter Text

Their trip wouldn't take too terribly long, so long as everything went smoothly. If they were able to do twenty miles every day, they'd arrive in fifty days. This of course, was not going to happen, Bilbo explained to Frodo as they entered Rivendell. They'd be staying there for a week to rest and resupply.

"The ponies and oxen need a break just like we do! You get to sit in the wagon when you're tired, but they're the ones pulling everything. They deserve a break! And besides, when we reach the mountains it'll be harder to travel across, so ten miles might feel like twenty to our noble steeds, right?" Bofur explained to Frodo as he took him off his father's hands, allowing the Thain to catch up with Lord Elrond.

"But I want to meet more dwarves!" Frodo whined, only to quickly fix his tone.

"Are we not enough for you, laddie?" Bofur asked with a wide, playful smile as the boy hugged his head.

"You're one of my best friends, Mister Bofur! I'll have to introduce you to Sam someday. He'll like your hat and your mustache." Frodo grinned, and Bofur smiled proudly.

"Well, it sounds like your friend Sam has good taste in accessories and hair." Bofur grinned.

Frodo continued growing closer to the dwarves during their stay in Rivendell, but he was also growing impatient, along with Fili and Kili, who all sighed in relief when they were finally ready to go once more.

"Why does your son wear boots, Derwen?" Asked Nori one day as the dwarf and the Thain smoked their pipes and Bofur played his flute, enjoying the starry sky before they'd begin to cross the mountain.

"I'm sorry, what?" Bilbo coughed and choked on the smoke for the first time since he was a tween, his eyes watering as the sudden question took him off guard.

"I just mean to say, I was under the impression that hobbits are barefoot…I've never seen a hobbit wear shoes of any sort, not even when slopping in the pig pens in Bree." He shuddered.

"O-oh…well…unfortunately, he has what we call soft-soles…Just means that his skin didn't grow thick enough on the bottoms to go barefoot. Where if I step on a splinter, it'd break before it could so much as think about puncturing my feet, my boy would be in a lot of pain as it'd sink in easily." He explained, shuddering at the many memories of Frodo trying to prove he could go barefoot, and coming back home with cuts and splinters.

Then another day, a week or so later, the topic of families came up yet again, and as they all enjoyed some hot tea, courtesy of Nori's brother Dori, they all looked to Bilbo and Frodo to explain their family.

"So was your wife just not home when we came by?" Kili asked as he swallowed down the hot drink happily.

"My what?" Bilbo asked, trying not to choke on hot tea again, thank you very much.

"Your wife! The Little Prince 's mother?" He asked again.

"…My O'ma?" Frodo chimed in, looking confused. "She's Papa's Ma…not his wife." Frodo shuddered, giving a look of disgust to the dwarf.

"N-no! Not your O'ma or O'pa…I mean…If Mister Derwen is your papa," Kili began.

"Mhmmm…" Frodo nodded, blinking.

"Then who is your mama?" Kili finished, but Frodo still blinked, his expression confused.

"I…I don't have a mama…" Frodo said, having never thought much of it. He had his Papa, his O'ma and his O'pa…and somewhere in the world was his Sire, Holm.

"Let's talk about something else, shall we?" Bilbo announced awkwardly. "You were saying your brother is going to have another child? Is that common for dwarves? It is for hobbits, but I thought you all had smaller families?" He asked as he turned to Bifur and Bofur.

"Aye! Bombur's wife is having another! We're all hoping for another daughter, as it's always nice to spoil a daughter with how rare they are…but like we said, pebbles are cared for beyond gold or any other treasure for that matter, so we'll love them and dote on them all the same." Bofur said proudly.

"And we'll shower them with as many presents as possible. It doesn't matter if they're a lad or a lass, they'll be given a wooden ax all the same." Bofur interpreted for his brother Bifur next, as the quiet dwarf spoke with his hands.

These sorts of conversations continued throughout their journey across the mountain…When another storm struck, they hid themselves in a nice cranny in the rocks, putting a tarp up to cover the opening as they cuddled together around the fire, their ponies and oxen adding to the warmth as Bilbo and Raven leaned against her as she laid down.

"She's got hair like our Uncle does," Kili mentioned then as he passed a plate of supper to Frodo and Bilbo, pointing at the pony behind them.

"Oh? Really?" Snorted Bilbo tiredly as he took the plate.

"Mhmm! Uncle used to hate doing his hair…Just like Kili!" Fili called out teasingly.

"B-but I'm getting better at it! Uncle did too…But that's because Amad made him…My mother, I mean…she insisted that when he became king he couldn't just let his hair be a mess anymore."

Bilbo chuckled at that, the image he had in his mind of King Thorin ever changing with the tales he was told. At first, from their letters alone, he imagined him to be much older, with white hair and beard and tired eyes…and now he knew that the uncle had hair much like his pony.

"My parents said it was why their friend…why their friend bought Raven to begin with. She's a sturdy pony, just like he was. Strong and serious…he also had long black hair like hers…" He sighed as he poked at his plate sadly before passing it to his son, saying that he wasn't quite hungry yet.

"I didn't know hobbit males had long hair! Why don't you? I'm sure you'd look nice." Kili insisted, and Bilbo laughed once more.

"He…was a weird one…stood out like a sore thumb, the only person in all the Shire to pull off long hair like he did. Me, on the other hand, I am a proper hobbit, and would look rather silly, I think. My mother's curls are ridiculous, imagine if my hair got as long as hers." Bilbo snorted and smiled at how his son giggled at the mental image.

They waited in their shelter for three days through the rain, listening to the story of how during the Quest for Erebor, on a different part of the Misty Mountains, there was a thunder battle. Frodo was in awe of the way Bofur interpreted the story as it came off of Bifur's hands. How the Stone Giants slung boulders at each other, and how they found shelter, only for it to have a trap door that carried them to the Goblin King!

Bilbo felt sick at the horribly descriptive way Bifur told of their fight, but it did make Frodo feel more engaged as he listened and watched.

"A-and then what happened? Did…did the orcs catch up to you?" Frodo asked nervously, holding tightly to Fili's hand as the story continued.

"We climbed up pine trees as high as we could, and we began throwing flaming pine cones that the Wizard Tharkun gave us! Unfortunately, this didn't do much more than make the orcs and wargs angry, and light our trees on fire. But our King wouldn't go down without a fight! You see…the orc that was there at the bottom was not just a random orc…but-"

"No! No, no, no! It wasn't!" Frodo trembled, blue eyes wide as he gripped even tighter to Fili's hand, and now his leg too as he trembled.

"It was! Bolg! Azog the Defiler's son was at the bottom! Our options were either to fall to our deaths off the mountain side…or to be eaten and killed by wargs and orcs!" Bofur said, grinning at his cousin as he didn't hold back the gruesome tale from the child.

"What…what did he do? How did you all survive?" Frodo asked, looking back and forth between all the company members.

"Our King knew that if they didn't take a stand right then…that all hope would be lost. He looked at us and told us 'When there is life. There is hope' and charged down the burning tree to attack Bolg, slicing his head clean from his shoulders just like he did the orc's father at Azanulbizar!" He grinned as he ended the story.

But Bilbo didn't quite hear the end of the story. No, his ears were buzzing at the familiar quote, one his father swore he coined. It wasn't a terribly original concept, though…even if the words were exactly what Bungo would say, Bilbo was sure others believed in that philosophy. Dwarves especially would, seeing all they'd been through as a people…So, shaking the thought away, he continued listening to the story into the night.

When they finally got out of the Misty Mountains two weeks later, having to stop several more times due to rain, they found themselves nearing the Old Ford on the Old Forest Road, nearing the imposing forest before them.

"Can we not also go see Mister Beorn, Papa?" Frodo asked eagerly, tugging on Bilbo's cloak as they finished crossing the ford.

"Beorn? From the quest? As lovely as that'd be, that's a bit out of the way I'm afraid. Maybe on the return trip home we can see if we can stop by, hmmm? I'd love to see his garden as well." Bilbo smiled at his son who tried his best not to pout about not seeing a bear man.

On their last night before reaching the forest, they camped and enjoyed the starry sky one more night before they knew the forest's canopy would cover it all up.

"Mister Derwen! You…you have a sword…and it keeps being mentioned that you know how to fight…umm…would you want to? Spar? Maybe?" Fili asked sheepishly, and Bilbo could see the way the Prince's body shifted from side to side anxiously, eager to expel the adrenaline that was building up in his veins and winding him up.

"Oh, I don't know. What does a dwarven sparring match entail? It'd better not be some fight to the death or something…" Bilbo grumbled, wishing it was a joking question, but he truly didn't know.

"Of course not! At least not with you…I can't kill a leader from another land! That'd mean war!" Fili gasped, affronted.

"As if my bounders will leave the shire to get my revenge." Bilbo snorted, and got to his feet from his place around the camp fire. "Alright then, I'll accept your dual." Bilbo nodded, stretching and allowing Frodo to help him stretch. Bilbo sat on the ground, moving gracefully and fluidly from side to side, and Frodo pushed on his father's back, pushing until Bilbo's body was flush against the ground.

Bofur gave a whistle, impressed at the Thain's flexibility, and wiggled his eyebrow at Dwalin and Nori, giving them a cheeky grin at the sight.

Dwalin explained the rules…which was far less rigid than Bilbo had expected. There would be three rounds…best two out of three wins. You win a round by having your opponent either tap out, or be on the ground for over three seconds.

The first round went to Fili and it happened far too fast for the Thain's liking, his pride sinking quickly as in only a minute the dwarf had him winded and on his back, staring up at the stars spinning above him.

The second round went to Bilbo, having learned from the first round how Fili seemed to fight. All dwarves were bottom heavy, as if their feet were a part of the ground itself. This meant that their stances were sturdy, and that Bilbo had small chances to knock the dwarf onto his back with their size and strength difference…But Bilbo didn't need either of those things when he could rely on his speed and cunning.

Almost like a dance, Bilbo maneuvered around Fili, and without so much as swinging his sword, Bilbo had managed to get behind the dwarf in just a blink, and wrestle him down to the ground, pinning him easily, while using pressure points in the dwarf's hand to make him release his weapon.

The third round was 'dazzling' as Bofur would put it as he gasped at the sight of Bilbo and Fili's swords clashing, sparks flying as the little hobbit had to stand his ground against dwarven strength. Somehow, Bilbo managed to parry and block Fili's full strength several times, before the hobbit began wearing thin…knowing he couldn't hold his own against a dwarf for much longer, he kicked his heel hard against the inside of Fili's knee, and winced as he heard the wind knocked out of him, though didn't hesitate to hold his blade at Fili's neck as he counted to three.

"I win!" Bilbo grinned triumphantly, holding his hand out to Fili as he was about to put his sword away.

"Why's your sword glowing, Derwen?" Asked Fili as he stared at the elven blade rather than taking the Thain's hand.

"Wh-what?" Bilbo blinked, his breath leaving him quickly as the words sunk in and he looked at his blade, taking in the sight of it glowing a pale blue just as Elrond had told him it would.

Bilbo had never actually seen the blade glow before…not that he doubted the elf, but he simply didn't know what it'd actually look like…nor did he ever want to learn.

"Orcs!" Gasped Frodo, knowing all too well what the blue meant, and before he could even approach Bilbo, he was pulled back into Dwalin's hold.

"What's he mean, Orcs?" Dwalin hissed at Bilbo, who turned to him with fear in his eyes.

"Lord Elrond said …when he gave it to me…it glows blue when there-"

Suddenly their cozy camp in the valley of the Anduin was no longer filled with the chirping of crickets and the rushing of the river…but instead all pleasant sounds had been drowned out by the cacophonous howls and screeches of orcs.

"Dwalin! Get to the forest! Now!" Bilbo ordered, looking to his son in the dwarf's arms. "Run!" He ordered, putting their fire out as he stomped it with his thick-soled feet, and getting atop his pony. They could leave the merchant wagon behind…it was filled with toys and small wares that were unnecessary…but supplies of food for Erebor could not be lost.

"Frodo, lad! Stay with Mister Dwalin! If he tells me you so much as tried to let go of his hand you are in so much trouble, alright?" Bilbo insisted, his son never seeing him so serious before.

"Y-yes, Papa!" Frodo nodded, clinging to Dwalin as they climbed back into the first wagon with the majority of the supplies for the mountain.

"Keep Frodo safe, Dwalin! Take him to the mountain!" He yelled to the burly dwarf, desperation in his hazel eyes and trembling voice.

"Aye, Thain!" Dwalin nodded, ready to do anything to protect the boy.

"Fili, Kili! With Dwalin! Now!" He ordered next, glaring at the boys who so much as dared to dally behind with him. Fili had to drag his little brother to the other wagon, and before Kili could so much as complain, their oxen were going as fast as their hooves would allow them, dragging the crying Frodo off along with the Princes and Dwalin.

"Alright, now we can run too, right?" Nori asked next as they all grabbed their weapons.

"Y-yes! Run south! Throw off the trail…Prince Fili insisted there was an elven escort through the wood on the path…once they reach the forest, Dwalin will be smart enough to send scouts out to us…I hope." Bilbo nodded, holding his blade tightly as he and the three dwarves began to run south along the Anduin River and toward the forest's edge, hoping that the orcs would follow them rather than his son and their princes.

The shrieks of orcs could be heard still, no matter how far into the forest the wagons went. Eventually, the oxen were too exhausted to go on, as they weren't bred for their speed but their strength, and they practically collapsed when they were finally in the forest. There were yet to be any signs of their elven escort, and as the sound of orcs didn't diminish, Dwalin quickly took what papers he could from the wagons, hiding them safely in his bags, and instructing Fili, Kili, and Frodo to all do the same.

The seeds and food can be stolen…but these papers…all this information from the Shire on how to survive…could not. Frodo obeyed quietly, listening to everything Dwalin told him to do, and soon enough, after Dwalin locked the wagons tight, and set the oxen loose, the three dwarves and hobbit were running along the path.

When Frodo became too tired to run, the dwarves took turns carrying the poor child. Terrified, Frodo had cried himself into exhaustion in Dwalin's arms and after several miles of running, Fili pointed out an opening in a large tree that they could hide in, as they could no longer run.

And that was where they stayed, huddling into one another and holding onto the trembling hobbit as they buried themselves in the foliage on the ground, hoping to blend with their surroundings while hiding in the tree. Kili had his bow and arrow at the ready, hearing the shuffling of orcish feet through the forest along with their cackling and croaking calls to one another as they searched for the hiding dwarves.

"Fili…climb up with the boy…" Dwalin insisted to his crown prince, looking up into the hollow tree, and passing the boy to him. "Don't let him get hurt. Nor yer'self…" He whispered, and as much as the Crown Prince wished to argue, wished to fight, he'd not let the little boy who'd become like a little cousin to him, like Gimli almost, get hurt. He nodded and had Frodo hold him tight as he climbed up into the hollow of the tree, his heart pounding as he entered into darkness, leaving his baby brother and cousin behind.

Suddenly, there was shuffling, and then Kili shot his arrow out, and Frodo buried his face into Fili's chest as if to hide from the sound of the orc's death. It let out a blood curdling groan as it died, falling forward onto Kili and Dwalin, but before the young prince could draw another arrow, the forest outside the hollowed tree was filled with the dying cries of the other orcs that had chased them.

"Lady Tauriel!" Gasped Kili as he got up from where he and Dwalin hid, and Fili sighed in relief when the red-headed elf was mentioned. "It's safe to come out!" Kili called up to his brother and Frodo, and in what seemed to the boy like eternity, they were crawling out of their hideaway in the tree, the forest floor filled with the bodies of several dead orcs.

Frodo shook at the sight, and held even tighter to Fili, unable to let the dwarf go, not even to be passed into Dwalin's care as he was so terrified.

"I've got you, Little Prince …" Fili assured him, rubbing his back as Captain Tauriel of the Woodland realm, as well as other guards and soldiers flooded the area.

"There were others with us! Three dwarves and the King of the Shire! You must go find them!" Kili pleaded with the Captain, and nodded, ordering half of her soldiers to go scout and find them.

Knowing that there were elves out to find and help his father seemed to calm the fear and worry in Frodo's heart enough to let him fall back asleep in Fili's arms. When he woke again in the morning, they were not on the main road as Frodo had been told they would be, but heading toward the mountain that peaked out from within the forest.

"Hello, Little Prince …Good morning." Fili smiled as he looked over to Frodo who was once again in Dwalin's arms.

"G-good morning…where are we? Where's Papa?" He asked as panic began setting in once again as he looked around.

"Easy there, pebble…" Dwalin soothed, rubbing the boy's back as they walked. "The elves are off to find him and the others now. We're going to see the Elven King…"

"But you said we weren't going to do that on this trip!" Frodo reminded the dwarf who nodded, acknowledging that he did say that.

"Plans change, unfortunately. We had to leave the oxen behind, and our wagons…we're just gonna take a little detour to resupply what we can in the safety of the elves mountain, get our wagon and oxen back, and then we'll be on our way to Erebor. I promise." Dwalin reassured him, but the boy didn't look very comforted.

"What about Papa and the others?" Frodo asked, his bottom lip trembling as tears began welling in his bright blue eyes once more.

"The elves are gonna find them all…I promise. Just as I promised yer' papa that I'd take care of you…"

Uncle,

We were attacked by a pack of orcs between the Anduin River and the Woodland Realm. Dwalin, Kili, the Little Prince , and myself are all safe in Thranduil's halls. Our wagons have been brought back to us, as luckily the orcs paid them no mind…our oxen also found their way to us as well…Luck has been on our side.

We hope that this means that our companions have also been lucky. Thain Derwen ordered us to go ahead while he, Bifur, Bofur, and Nori, drew the orcs away from us…We've not yet heard news of them…

Everything in the wagons is safe and secure, and we will be making our way to Erebor first thing in the morning where Captain Tauriel will be escorting us to Dale as planned.

-Fili

Thorin's heart ached in his chest as he read the letter from his nephew, and as glad as he was that the Thain had put his Nephew's safety before his own, he was unsure what a hobbit could do against a pack of orcs. They weren't dragons, and couldn't be riddled to death…He prayed that the Thain and the others of the company were alright…and re-read the letter as if it'd re-write itself in favor of what he wanted to read.

"The Little Prince …Kili? Why'd he mention Kili twice? Kili's not been called that in…what?" Thorin squinted as his eyes ran over that line repeatedly, and grumbled to himself as he put his glasses on, hoping that he could read a different letter by doing so…but it read just the same, only a little more clearly.

"…who's the 'Little Prince '…"

They left the wagons in the care of the elves, who vowed to bring them to the Lonely Mountain so that the Dwarves could return to their home quicker. At first, Dwalin wanted to protest, yet just as he was about to, the Elven King eyed the terrified and sad child at the dwarf's side, as if to say that there was a cargo far more precious at the moment.

Prince Legolas assured that he would personally guard the wagons, and that no harm would come to their supply. With the reassurance, and knowing just how badly the little hobbit prince needed needed to be out of the forest and in a mountain with the rest of his people.

"His people are in the Shire." Scoffed Dwalin as he picked the boy up once more as they began walking and noticing how the boy seemed to have jelly for legs today.

"Oh? Is he not a dwarfling?" Legolas asked, looking at curiously at the boy. "He's got such small feet…and the hair on his face, I assumed…"

"Huh? Are his feet small? The Thain said he wears boots because he's got soft-feet or what have you…but I don't know about small…And perhaps some hobbits just have a bit more fuzz on their cheeks…doesn't make them a dwarf." Dwalin snorted and rolled his eyes as he and Frodo were helped upon horses…even if they were far too large a steed for the dwarves, if they wanted to make it to Erebor by nightfall they had few other choices.

It was a good thing that they agreed to the horses, because once they were out of the Woodland Realm, and Frodo looked out at the world around them, his eyes widened in awe as he took in the sight.

"Is…is that Erebor?" He asked breathlessly, staring at it much like how the company had all those years ago when they spied it from the Carrock. Like how Dwalin had when he finally laid his eyes on his home after so long…

"Aye…That is Erebor, the Lonely Mountain…" Dwalin confirmed, and smiled slightly as the boy leaned back into him, feeling safe and secure in the dwarf's hold.

The horns blared through the halls, alerting everyone to stand back as the King, Princess Dis, and Balin rushed their way through the halls to welcome their kin back home. The large stone doors opened, and the sound of horse hooves echoed on the tiles as the light of the stars and moon flooded in from behind them. Fili and Kili jumped from their horses and ran to their mother, who cried in relief when her boys were back in her arms.

Thorin on the other hand went to Dwalin, who after jumping less elegantly from the horse like his nephews did, waited for a small child to jump into his arms.

"Ah…is this the Little Prince I read about?" Thorin asked as he approached them, smiling…only to freeze when the boy turned to look at him.

Thorin didn't look at his portraits every day…even if they were hung everywhere for all to see…not just from his time as king, but also from his days as a young prince when his grandfather ruled…

He knew what he looked like when he was a child…

And in that moment, he swore he was looking at him.

"Go on…introduce yourself, Little Prince ." Dwalin smiled gently as he put Frodo on the ground, knowing how excited the boy had been to meet the king who had quickly become his hero from stories alone.

Slowly and nervously, Frodo made his way to the intimidating dwarf, and looked up at him, blue eyes on blue eyes as they held one another's gaze.

"H-hello…" Frodo said nervously before clearing his throat, "F-frodo Baggins, a-at your service…" He managed to say as he gave a deep bow to the king who stood frozen before him.

"…Baggins?"

Chapter Text

Thorin owed it to the Baggins family to watch after the boy who clung to his side like the king was his lifeline. He had sent out scouting companies to join the Greenwood elves to find the lost company members, and the Thain, and he assured the young Baggins that they'd do everything in their power to find his father.

But, despite the multitudes of reassurances the king gave the boy, young Frodo Baggins did not seem to be put at ease. His bright blue eyes were always searching crowds for his father…but never did they land upon the Thain. In his grief and worry, the boy began to withdraw into himself more and more, and by the time Bifur and Bofur had returned to the mountain, Frodo could no longer bring himself to speak more than one word.

"Papa? Papa!" Frodo called out as he pushed past the many dwarves that crowded the halls, only for them to part when the king walked through, following the boy.

Seeing Bifur and Bofur wounded, but alive, brought relief to everyone…but Frodo lingered by the gate, waiting to see where his papa was.

"We had to split up, Thorin…" Bofur explained, his head hanging low. "But he's a fast one…he and Nori were heading South when we parted…Together I'm sure those two will outsmart and out sneak any orc pack…" He assured the king, but the words were empty to the ears of the young hobbit.

The king didn't want to pressure the poor boy into speaking, but even their first days together when he was still able to form sentences, the boy refused to tell Thorin more about him and his family, saying that he shouldn't have even given the king his name to begin with.

"Papa…Papa says that when you're working as Thain you don't use your given name…so Papa is Thain Derwen, and I am Scion…I-I like…I like being called Little Prince by Mister Dwalin, though. B-but you know my name…and I know your name…s-so we can be friends and you can call me Frodo. A-and when Papa arrives you can call him his name too!" Frodo had grinned at him, his bright blue eyes reddened from the many tears the boy shed.

Another week or so passed, and Thorin was growing more and more worried for the Thain. When Nori returned to the mountain, it was much the same for Frodo as it was when the Ur's returned to the mountain.

"Papa!" Frodo called out, his worried smile fading to only worry when he saw the terrible state Mister Nori was in. When the boy's eyes met with the Spymaster's, he did his best from breaking down into sobs at the grave, remorseful look he gave him.

"Your Pa' would want you to have this…" Nori said softly as he knelt before Frodo, and pulled from his scabbard a sword that did not fit the sheath…

"Papa's sword…" Frodo rasped out, his trembling hands holding the sword close as he hiccuped and sniffled. Thorin approached the boy and his spymaster carefully, relieved his friend is home safe, but aching for the boy he'd quickly grown to care for as he grieved the loss of his father.

Dori and Ori took their brother away to go see Oin, and the crowd around them began to thin out as Frodo stood there silently, trembling in his sadness as he stared out the gates of Erebor until they closed, his eyes watery as he gazed into the desolation outside the mountain…

But Frodo did not let his tears fall. As he gripped the elven blade, he turned to look up at Thorin with more determination and rage than a child of the kindly west had ever had.

"My Papa isn't dead!" Frodo insisted before anyone even had the heart to declare that the Thain was dead or not. "He's not dead!" Frodo repeated again, even louder. If it weren't for the way Frodo's blue eyes shimmered with hope, he'd have sounded like a young child in denial of their parent's death…but Thorin could see that it wasn't so simple.

"We won't stop searching until we bring him back to you, I promise, Frodo." Thorin vowed, knowing that he'd bring the boy his father, alive or not…he could at least give him that.

"…Th-there is someone…someone who could help us find him! I just know he'd help…He'd…he'd find Papa as soon as he started looking…." Frodo breathed heavily, looking nervous as his foot began tapping and his eyes began looking around him nervously, as if he was unsure who had a right to his words.

"Who? Tell me and we shall bring have them sent with the scouting parties." Thorin agreed without batting an eye, and feeling a little relieved when he saw the boy's face ease ever so slightly.

"Y-you need to promise me that i-if we find th-this person…that he will be safe and no one will put him in a dungeon or get executed!" He blurted out his conditions, as if negotiating a deal.

"You…know of a criminal who will help find your papa?" Thorin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He might not be a bad person! We…we never knew!" Frodo rambled as he put the sword in his left hand and held his pinkie out to the king. "Promise you'll not hurt him a-and then we can find him to bring Papa home!"

Thorin took promises very seriously…be it a vow to his kingdom, or a pinkie promise to a little boy, they were all deserving of respect and diligence, but Thorin was weary to agree to something like this without knowing more about the man.

"Deal." Thorin agreed none the less, letting out a heavy sigh as he locked their pinkies together. "Now, who is it that will find your Papa?"

"H-he has this bead!" Frodo declared after a moment, and pulled the chain from around his neck up and over his head as he put it in the king's hand.

Thorin didn't need to squint or wear his glasses to see the decoration, as he knew it by touch alone that this was his bead. The seven stars above a raven…it was his, one of the two he lost when he was robbed and left for dead.

"Where…where did you get this, Frodo?" Thorin asked softly, kneeling down as he looked back and forth between the boy and the bead.

"My papa gave it to me…h-he said my sire gave it to him…" He explained softly, worried the king might have thought he stole it, as he realized early on in his stay in the mountain how distrusting dwarves were.

Thorin's heart pounded in his chest so loudly he couldn't hear much else. Not the sound of his siblings approaching and asking what was in his hands, or the sound of Dwalin scolding Fili and Kili for not giving the poor boy enough space as we spoke. All Thorin could hear was his heart…the heart that beat for his One…his One who he had left behind.

"F-frodo…your sire…" Thorin began, his voice low as he looked away from the bead and into the eyes that matched his own. "What was his name?" He asked tenderly, returning the chain to Frodo as he placed it over his head.

"H-his name…His name was 'Holm'…please, Mister King Thorin! Do you know any dwarf by that name?" Frodo pleaded desperately, his attention fixed on Thorin, despite the gasps from the other royals around him as they heard the name Thorin had been given in the Shire.

"Is…Is your Papa…is he Bilbo?" Thorin asked with just as much desperation as the young hobbit before him.

"Yes!" He nodded, a look of relief in his eyes. "Did…did papa tell you that in your letters?" Frodo asked, and Thorin shook his head as he smiled softly.

"No…he told me fifteen years ago…when I met him on his thirty-third birthday…" Thorin smiled, and reached into his hair to pull a hidden braid out so he could show Frodo the mithril bead that matched his own.

"A-and I…I gave your Papa the bead you carry now…" He smiled through his heartache, and smiled as Frodo stepped closer to inspect the braid in his raven hair and the bead that held it closed.

"Y-you…You're Holm?" Frodo asked softly, wiping his eyes as he stared up at the king in astonishment.

"Y-yes…Though I've not been called that in nearly fifteen years…Your grandfather Bungo gave me that name…and it was who I was for five years…" He explained as Frodo let go of Thorin's braid in favor of holding his hand.

"S-so you're my sire?" Frodo asked even more quietly, not daring to hope that his hero was also his sire.

"If Bilbo is your Papa, and he says that Holm is your sire…then yes…I'm your sire, Frodo." Thorin smiled, and gasped as the wind was knocked out of him when Frodo lunged himself at the king, wrapping his arms around him tightly as he finally let his tears fall…not in grief for Bilbo, but in joy that he'd found Holm.

Holm was not a criminal, or a bad person…he was not someone who other's would hate, and want dead…he was a King. A king who reclaimed his kingdom and slayed a dragon and loved his Papa more than anything, Thorin promised the boy. His boy.

"I wanted to come back to your Papa…but I was brought back to my home, and I…I never had the chance to so much as write back to the Shire…can you ever forgive me for not being there for you?" Thorin asked, holding the boy's hands in his own.

Frodo nodded easily as if there was nothing to forgive. "Papa said that…that you didn't leave us on purpose…that you would have come home if you could have…And because of that, we shouldn't be mad at you. So I'm not mad…neither is Papa…" Frodo explained, and Thorin felt his trepidation melting away as their conversation continued.

"First thing in the morning, I will leave personally to find you Papa…I will stop at nothing to bring him back to you…" Thorin vowed.

"Can…I come too?" Frodo asked nervously, not wanting to lose his sire now that he'd finally found him.

"No. Your papa will have my head if you got hurt. You'll stay here with my brother and sister and the others…you can tell my family all about your life in the Shire with Bilbo…But until the sun rises, I wish to have you to myself…I am happy to hear your voice again…and I want more than anything for you to tell me all about yourself…" Thorin grinned as he scooped Frodo into his arms, making him giggle as he was tossed in the air before begin caught by the king once more.

"A-are you happy I'm your son, Mister King?" Frodo asked tentatively, and Thorin's smile grew even wider.

"I have never been happier about anything in all my days, Frodo…I had always hoped when I found Bilbo again, that we could finally have a family…but he was always rather impatient and impulsive, so it makes sense that he'd start without me." Thorin chuckled as the newly untied father and son learn of one another.

By the time Frodo had fallen asleep, Thorin learned that his boy loved rocks. He loved sitting by the riverside and fishing for the prettiest ones he could find, and collect them in his room, which had once been Holm's room all those years ago. Thorin learned that his son was incredibly smart and that Bella and Bungo helped Bilbo raise him, so of course it'd make sense as to why his little dwobbit was so clever.

"…I prefer baked potatoes to mashed potatoes…but if I could have any potato, it'd be the country potatoes that I can get at the Green Dragon at lunch time!" Frodo grinned excitedly, beyond thrilled to be speaking to his father finally.

"Does Missus Cotton still make them?" Thorin asked curiously as he watched his son's eyes droop closed.

"Mhmm…a-and they have…the perfect…amount of salt." He grinned as he fell asleep curled up against Thorin.

"Looks like I owe Nori fifty…" Sighed Dwalin as he entered the room to check in on the king and his son.

"Why's that?" Thorin asked, petting Frodo's black curls as he snored softly in his sleep, unable to look away from the precious boy he and his One had made.

"The little thief was steadfast that the little prince was a dwobbit…But, not knowing who the other parent was, I doubted it. No dwarf would leave their One especially if they were with child." He explained, sitting beside Thorin now.

"I didn't exactly have a choice…" Thorin reminded, though there was no venom in his tongue, or scowl on his face, as he took steady breaths.

"I know…and I…we wish to apologize for it." Dwalin explained as the door creaked open as Dis and Frerin crept in.

"We were simply trying to protect you, Nuddel…I am so sorry we kept you from something so precious…" Dis sniffled as she and Frerin approached cautiously.

"It…it wasn't just you…Father was also insistent and it's not like you could go against his wishes…and then becoming King…reaching out to the Shire would have kept so much from happening…I regret that I was not there for my child and my One…but I do not regret rebuilding our home…I only ask one thing of you, and then I'll forgive you." Thorin spoke softly, turning his gaze from his son to look to his family.

"Name it and we will do it!" Frerin nodded firmly, standing stiffly as he was ready for whatever grand gesture they must accomplish to earn their brother and king's forgiveness.

"You have to tell Bilbo all about how he brainwashed me…and how he and his kin tried to steal me away…" He laughed, as now, looking back, it was all so ridiculous.

But it mattered now how ridiculous the past was, as tomorrow morning he'd be leaving to finally find Bilbo, and when he brought him back to the mountain, the three of them would be a family, and he dared anyone to take him away from them again.

"Can you actually sense where Derwen is, Uncle?" Fili asked curiously as they continued their third day of searching to no avail.

"…I do not know." Thorin sighed honestly, hanging his head as the King and his heir rode their rams side by side, going at an easy pace as they looked all over the land for any sign of Bilbo's presence.

"You don't know?" Fili replied, deadpan.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Thorin grumbled, glancing over at his nephew to scowl. "It has been so long since we last saw each other, and even then it was only the one time…" He confessed softly. "But when we met I felt drawn to him in the most impossible of ways…so…perhaps I'll feel that pull again…" Thorin explained awkwardly, unsure of how to word it, and uncomfortable wording such personal things he'd kept to himself all these years.

"Well, for Frodo's and Derwen's sake, I truly hope you can sense him sooner rather than later…" The young prince sighed as they scanned the horizon of Rhovanion. "Nori said that he and Derwen had split from one another near the Gladden Fields…that Nori went into the forest and that Derwen had hidden by the river…But that was a month ago now..."

The two continued their journey, heading south along the forest toward the East Bight. It wasn't until they spotted Roac circling them in the sky on their tenth day of searching that they found a trail to follow. The raven guided them further south, until they came upon an unsuspecting hole in the ground.

Now, this was a dry and sandy hole, not a hobbit hole…there was no comfort here, except perhaps if one found comfort in knowing they were well hidden and protected in the little cove in the hill. As they drew nearer, Thorin didn't need to look at the bird for guidance, and instead, followed his heart.

Thorin remembered so clearly as they approached the hill, how he had felt when he first laid eyes upon Bilbo…how it felt as if he was finally where he belonged. How there was a newfound strength within him simply because that hobbit was there, standing and shaking like a leaf on the stage as he prepared to give his speech…

But he knew the hobbit in this hill was not one to be afraid of such things…this was now a hobbit who faced on orcs alone. Who defended helpless trees and created an army…who cared for his people deeply and was beloved by everyone for all the deeds he did for the Shire. He knew that this hobbit, though still his hobbit, was changed, just as he had been.

"Bilbo!" He called out, jumping off of his ram as soon as they reached the hill, and began pushing aside the makeshift door that kept the cove sealed from outside threats.

"Bilbo! Are you in there?" Thorin shouted as he tore away at the roots and the brambles that Bilbo must have set up himself.

"H-holm?" Croaked a voice from within the cove.

It mattered not that Bilbo's voice was pained from thirst, and exhaustion and pain, because Thorin would know that voice even if he were deaf to everything…he would know Bilbo's voice. The sound filled his lungs with air and his heart with blood and he felt invigorated just hearing his name, no matter how long since he'd last been called by it, uttered by his One.

"Bilbo! Yes! I'm here! I…I have you!" Thorin shouted desperately as he got past the dangerous thicket and found Bilbo huddled up in his cloak in the car back of the cove. Carefully, he scooped his hobbit up into his arms, and stared down at him in wonder and worry, taking in the sight of his battered and bruised love who simply smiled up at him as if he were staring up at the stars in the sky.

"I've got you…" He breathed out against Bilbo's ear as he leaned forward, holding his shivering body close to his.

"I knew you'd come…Please, never let me go again…" Bilbo smiled through the pain and exhaustion, tears rolling down his scratched cheeks, stinging ever so slightly as he allowed Holm's arms to envelop him.

"Never…never again. I…I still need to ask your father for his blessing and forgiveness…" Thorin smiled, peppering kisses along Bilbo's brow, taking in his scent, because no matter how roughed up and dirt covered his hobbit was, he still smelled like honey and lavender and sweetness under it all.

"…They…they told me they'd forgive you…so that's a relief…" Bilbo breathed out in a chuckle before he succumbed to his exhaustion in Holm's arms, his mind and heart finally recognizing safety within Holm's embrace.

Without the need to continue searching, their trip back North to Erebor was quick, as their rams were fast, even with an extra rider. Bilbo had been in and out of consciousness on their journey, and each time he woke he would panic for a moment before he'd look up and see his dwarf, and know he was safe.

"Prince Fili…where…where is my son?" Bilbo had asked when they were in the foothills of the Lonely Mountain, finally awake long enough to think and complete a full sentence.

"The Little Prince is safe in Erebor. Mister Dwalin, Kili and I kept him safe for you, just as we promised we would." Fili smiled as their steeds stopped along the Long Lake to drink and rest before completing the journey.

"I never doubted you, thank you…" Bilbo yawned and leaned into Thorin, his eyes closing before they bolted open once more. "Holm!" He shouted, turning quickly to his dwarf as he leaned against him.

"Yes, Amrâlimê?" Thorin smiled sweetly as he brushed Bilbo's dirty curls with his fingers.

"I…I have something to tell you…Umm…" Bilbo cleared his throat, his cheeks red as he tried to find the least surprising way to tell the news. Instead of finding the right words, Thorin's lips found Bilbo's with a kiss, silencing him and his fretting.

"You did an amazing job raising him, Amrâlimê…He is a wonderful boy, and I am so proud of both of you…" Thorin smiled as he held his hobbit gently against him, their hearts beating together once more as he kept Bilbo in his lap and under his cloak for extra warmth. Thorin had not felt so entirely whole for fifteen years.

"You met Frodo?" Gasped Bilbo in surprise that quickly melted to give way to a warm fondness. "He's such a good boy…he's so very smart, and quick witted…but he's also very brave and righteous. When…when I told him that his sire was a blacksmith, he said he'd become a blacksmith too…he…he's loved you ever since he was told about you…probably even longer, honestly…" The hobbit rambled until the dwarf silenced him again with another kiss.

"If that's your way of trying to keep me from talking, I can't help but find it terribly effective." Bilbo smiled up tenderly at Thorin, reaching a hand up to weave his slender, clever fingers into Thorin's long beard.

"I love the sound of your voice, Kurdu…just as much as I love the taste of your lips…" He smiled as he stole another kiss from Bilbo, enjoying the feeling of him chuckling and smiling as their lips gingerly moved against one anothers.

"You're an absolute cake, you know that?" Bilbo snorted as he buried his face in the crook of Thorin's neck.

"I thought you preferred sweet things?" Thorin smiled as he rested his chin atop Bilbo's curls as he kept him wound up in his embrace.

"Oh shush…there was a whole year of my life when anything sweet made me sick." Bilbo laughed sweetly, amazed at how easy and natural it felt to be with Holm once more, as if they'd never left each other's arms… "Frodo…he likes sweet things too…but not as much as he likes salty."

"He mentioned that…" Thorin sighed as he rubbed Bilbo's arms and back to add to the warmth he desperately needed.

"He's probably ridding the poor King of the Mountain of any and all cookies he can find…I told the boy that they're short on food, but he's always thought along the line that no one will miss one piece of pie…" Bilbo chuckled. "I do hope the king isn't too upset with my delay. He seems very amicable in writing, and those who accompanied us made him sound very grand…so I don't think he'll be terribly crossed….Do you know the king, Helm?" Bilbo asked then, looking up at his dwarf and hoping that he could shed some insight on if he'd be scolded by the King of Erebor for delaying their alliance.

Thorin blinked a few times before he burst into laughter, a wide, happy grin spreading across his face which caused Bilbo to smile back, and for Fili, who was trying to keep his attention to himself, to stare in shock at how jovial his uncle was.

"Oh, my Bilbo…" He chuckled as he kissed the hobbits curls again and again for the umpteenth time that hour. "…You see…my knowing the king is why…its why I was never able to return to you…" Thorin began, and watched as Bilbo's smile went from joyful to fearful.

"Oh…oh no, they…did they put you in the dungeons? I'll vouch for you! Whatever you did in the past means nothing now!" Bilbo insisted, but was cut off with another kiss.

"No, my love…I was not in any dungeon, even if it felt like it, as I was kept from you…No…I…I was never able to come back because I am King. I am Thorin Oakenshield."

Chapter Text

Bilbo was deaf to everything but his son. There were cheers and horns blaring as he, Fili, and Thorin entered the Mountain Kingdom, drowning out the ability to hear one's own thoughts…all Bilbo could hear was Frodo.

"Papa! Papa!" He called out as he made his way down to the gates with several dwarves following behind.

Bilbo paid them no mind as he walked on aching legs into the mountain, smiling at his son as he did his best to lean down and hold him, wincing through the pain of his son's strong arms gripping around his bruises.

"I'm back, my boy…sorry I'm late." Bilbo smiled warmly, petting Frodo's hair gently, and felt his eyes sting with tears as he noticed a small braid with his bead attached to the end of it while playing with his curls.

"N-never leave me again! Y-you keep getting hurt when you're not with me!" Frodo accused, nuzzling his face into Bilbo's chest as he held him close.

"I do, don't I…" Sighed Bilbo as he gave a quick look of gratitude to Holm…no, Thorin, who scooped up their son into his arms.

"And because of that, I think it'd be for the best if we took you to the healer now, and keep brave Frodo by your side so he can keep you safe?" Thorin suggested gently, his hand pressing gently between Bilbo's shoulder blades as he guided the Thain forward.

The crowd parted for them, muttering and bowing at the three of them, whispering about the rumors that have spread regarding the relationship between their King and the boy. Many had heard the heartfelt revelation the day before the King set out, and the idea that their king had sired a child of another race had spread like dragon fire.

Thorin glanced down at Bilbo from time to time as they made their way to the healing ward, guarded by Dwalin and the other royal guard, always wanting to make sure his One wasn't too terribly upset with the gossip, and each time he found Bilbo letting their words (some nastier than others) roll off his back like water on a duck.

Bilbo had grown accustomed to being the center of rumors. First when he had danced all night with Thorin, and then when he was suddenly pregnant…followed by Frodo growing up looking a little…different. Bilbo was used to rumors, yes…but more than that, he was used to confronting them in the most hobbit like ways. But now wasn't the time for that, of course, and Bilbo walked with his head held high until the doors were closed behind him and his family.

His family, at long last, together like he always knew they'd be someday.

Thorin glared at his family to turn around when Bilbo began undressing for the healer, Oin, to inspect and tend to his wounds, as he remembered how private hobbits were about such things, and his scowl only deepened when his younger brother glanced over his shoulder with a rather approving look at Bilbo's physique.

No longer was he the soft, and pleasantly pudgy hobbit that Thorin had run his hands over with reverence…this was a hardened warrior. A hobbit warrior, but a warrior none the less. The softness of his youth had long since melted away. The curves that Thorin once found wondrous and delectable had not vanished with time, though…in fact, it would seem that despite the near sinewy look of his muscles, his hips had grown even more supple, most likely due to bearing Frodo, and the king had to actively keep his thoughts on other things while in the healing ward with his family.

"So…this is the hobbit?" Frerin asked as they were finally allowed to turn back around when Bilbo was dressed in a lose gown and tucked under many blankets while Oin continued his duties, ignoring Prince Frerin as he had a tendency to do.

"I don't know about the hobbit, but I am a hobbit, thank you very much. So this is the dwarf?" Bilbo mocked dryly, pointing at Frerin and grinning as the dwarf's face turned red before muttering an apology.

"Bilbo, this is my younger brother, Frerin…" Thorin introduced with a barely restrained cackle at the way his One put his family into place. "And this is my sister, Dis. And I believe they have something they wish to tell you…"

He nudged his siblings forward who grumbled under their breaths as they decided who would do the talking, elbowing one another childishly before Dis flicked Frerin in the nose and stepped forward.

"My brother and I would like to apologize, Thain Derwen…" Dis began, her eyes avoiding Bilbo's, even at the cost of her honor, as his bright and kind hazel eyes were not something she felt worthy of gazing into after all she and Frerin had inadvertently put him through.

Rather than yell or cry or rant or rave…Bilbo laughed.

"Oh goodness! If only I could brain wash someone! It'd be much easier to get work done if I didn't have bullheaded Proudfoots getting in the way," Bilbo snorted as he gave his son a wink, making him giggle at the memory of Harvey Proudfoot questioning everything Bilbo did as Thain his first years in the position.

"My lady…I can assure you…though we do not have such capabilities, if I had believed Holm was captured by people who did, I'd also do my best to keep him away from them…I…I mean Thorin." Bilbo blushed, still not used to the new name. "All that is to say, I forgive you…"

"We kept him from you when you were with child!" Dis insisted, not feeling deserving of Bilbo's forgiveness or understanding.

"And I had my parents to help me." Bilbo smiled, waving his hand as if to wave away the argument.

"You gave birth without him by your side because of us!" She doubled down, and Bilbo still remained calm, though it was clear to Thorin that Bilbo only did so because of the poppy milk he was sipping on as it coaxed him to sleep.

"And it's a good thing I did! Holm…Thorin…would have passed out at the sight, I'm sure." Bilbo scoffed, and grinned at the way Dis gave him such a knowing look.

"He did! When I gave birth to Kili, there was so much blood that he passed out!" She laughed and smiled warmly when Bilbo's hand found her own, patting it gently as they quickly became friends, bonding over pregnancy and how silly Thorin is.

"Oh goodness there was just so much blood! That oaf's got such a big head that I nearly named Frodo 'Pumpkin Head'!" Bilbo laughed, his palms securely over Frodo's ears to keep him from hearing his whispers as he and Dis laughed at their similar traumas. "The only reason my father didn't pass out was because my mother threatened him that if he did that he'd be sleeping on the couch for a week. She told him 'If our son can give birth to a boulder, than you can stay awake to support him.' Oh heavens was it like giving birth to a boulder!" Bilbo groaned, rubbing a hand over his belly at the painful memory.

"I'm sorry that I was not there for you, Amrâlimê…" Thorin sighed despondently, making his way to sit beside Frodo, pulling his son onto his lap. "And I will do everything in my power to make it up to you." He assured, and Bilbo couldn't help but lean over to kiss the dwarf's cheek, and close his eyes.

"Just promise you'll be here when I wake up?" He asked, genuinely afraid that this would all be a dream…that he'd be back in the hole he'd hidden in and he'd be alone once more.

"I promise. I will not leave your side…never again." He promised, kissing Bilbo's brow as the hobbit quickly fell into a well needed sleep.

Despite needing more time to recover, Bilbo only took three days to rest, much to everyone's worry.

"Papa hates sitting still…" Frodo explained to Dis one day as she and her sons had happily taken baby sitting duty…or more so, they had challenged Dwalin for baby sitting duty, and were happy to have won and entertain the small dwobbit, who was now a new, and lively light in their lives.

"Well, your Papa needs to rest too…but I suppose that's just how leaders are, isn't it…They never know when to quit." Dis sighed, combing Frodo's hair as she continued teaching him the different braids he'd need to know as a Prince of Durin.

While Frodo was being pampered by his newfound family, Bilbo and Thorin were working tirelessly to finally get the food situation in the mountain in order. Thorin had copies made of his old diagrams and had them distributed to the blacksmiths who all got to work on the plows and rakes and hoes and whatever other equipment Bilbo said they'd need.

Thorin would then guide Bilbo to their dead fields, and spoke with those who had tried to maintain it…and Bilbo could feel tears pricking at his eyes at the devastating sight. He was told how before Smaug, it had been lush and green and bountiful…but ever since the dragon laid waste to the land, regrowing anything had been a challenge.

With the notes from his Agronomist, Bilbo created as detailed a plan as he could for revitalizing the soil so that come winter, when the world froze over, the soil had a chance to be renewed with the thaw. Bilbo had taken large, deep samples of the soil back to the inside of the mountain, testing it just as he'd learned to do, and could be heard in Thorin's office celebrating with the king when the hobbit finally had what he called 'a fool proof plan' to heal the lands around the mountain.

The blacksmiths's tools were used by dwarves and men of Dale alike as they combed the lands for any remaining rubble from wars and the dragon's destruction, and then they began digging up the cracked and dry earth, loosening the lifeless soil not only in the lands where the crops would be grown, but everywhere.

"There is time before winter to work all of this land, Thorin. There will be meadows here once more…you can't just make crops to feed your people, but not the rest of the world…" Bilbo explained simply as Thorin couldn't help but question why they wasted their time on lands that weren't for crops.

"Animals must return to these lands…they'll need something to eat…Once the lands are healthy, we can see if we can reintroduce…deer! We can reintroduce deer to the lands…and with deer comes wolves, and with wolves come carians, and the carians will leave carcasses that will break down and provide nutrients to the soil…"

"But why are we focusing on so many flowers?" Thorin asked, not meaning any disrespect to his hobbit and his love of flowers…but he didn't see the need.

"Have you forgotten everything in the last fifteen years, Thorin? What will help keep these crops healthy more than flowers? Wildflowers and strong grass will help keep the soil from eroding…and with wildflowers, local pollinators can return too, which will then help keep the crops alive…and eventually you'll be able to grow more complicated crops like tomatoes need pollinators to grow properly." Bilbo explained, only for Thorin to walk up to him quickly, pull him into his arms, and dip him backwards for a deep, loving kiss.

His mouth mapped the way the hobbit's lips felt under his again and again, feeling the way moved and pressed against his own. How he could feel Bilbo's own heat and desperation through them as his hands tangled in Thorin's beautiful hair, pulling the dwarf deeper against him.

"What was that for?" He asked breathlessly when they finally parted, the dwarf king pressing a fleeting kiss to Bilbo's button nose before answering.

"I love hearing you talk…You always speak with such passion…and you're so smart. Have I ever told you how much I love your mind? You're too clever for your own good…" Thorin practically purred as his kisses moved from Bilbo's face to his jaw and to his neck, his large, work worn hands gliding down Bilbo's back till they were happily squeezing the hobbit's hips.

"O-oh? Is…is that so?" Bilbo giggled breathlessly, sighing sweetly as he happily accepted every kiss of the dwarf's rough lips and the burn on his skin from his beard, and letting out a whimper here and there as the king's strong hands kneaded his flesh like dough.

"Yes…" Thorin breathed out, pressing himself against his One, showing just how much he adored the hobbit's mind, body, and spirit, which seemed to go over quite well as Bilbo desperately wanted to show his own appreciation for the dwarf as well.

"Papa! Adad!" Came Frodo's sudden shout as he opened the door to the king's office without warning, running to his parents.

They quickly separated, cheeks flushed in embarrassment as this was the fifth time this has happened since their reunion, but neither could complain as their son jumped into their arms, eager to tell them about his day with his cousins.

"And then Fili told me that I could have a real ax someday if I wanted! Can I, Papa? Can I please?" Frodo begged as he told them all about watching his cousins sparring and how exciting it had been.

"What happened to the nice wooden ax your Uncle Bofur gave you?" Bilbo asked, definitely not a fan of his little boy holding a real metal ax any time soon.

"I've still got it of course! But Kili said I can't use it in a sparring match because it could break…" He pouted, looking between his fathers for their approval.

"Well we can't have your ax breaking…" Thorin agreed solemnly, "But we can't have a little prince sparring with dwarves twice his size and age either…You know, I didn't get my very first real ax until I was twenty-five…" He explained to his son who listened to every word Thorin graced his ears with, never growing tired of hearing his father's voice.

Bilbo watched on, fondness in his eyes and love in his heart as the father and son talked about their days. While Frodo would never grow tired of talking to his father, Bilbo would never grow tired of the sight. For years he longed for this…to be united as a family…to living together under the same roof and spending all their time together just as they have been…

All was perfect…

Even with the rumors.

Thorin and Bilbo had come to the decision together, though reluctantly, to not show affection in public. They wanted to make sure that the Kingdom of Erebor knew that the Thain's focus was on aiding their people, and not snogging their king. He could see how, despite their appreciation of his efforts, they were still a little weary about having a hobbit in their mountain.

Ever since Thorin was returned to his people fifteen years ago, and talk began to spread about where he'd been for five years, the dwarven consensus on hobbits had gone from apathetic to condemnation. Bilbo was struggling to win their approval for the sake of this alliance…and the two leaders reluctantly agreed it'd be for the best if their relationship remained under wraps.

When the original Ereborian food stores began dwindling more and more, Bilbo brought forth the two wagons full of crates of food. There was much animosity then, as the people that had been opposed to help from the Shire their feelings known that two wagons was hardly enough to feed the mountain for a day, let alone months.

"What's all this powder?" Gasped one dwarf as he helped unload and organize the boxes into the food reserve. "You expect our people to eat powder? What do you think we are, halfling? Animals? What are we to do with this? Crates upon crates of powder!" They seethed, their anger spreading to the other dwarves in the room, leaving Bilbo a little nervous as was alone in this task.

"This powder is not ashes or dust like you seem to think it is, Master Dwarf. This is food. If you expected us to bring you fresh greens that wouldn't go bad for months of traveling and still hold up well into your long winters, then you are a fool." Bilbo snapped, the animosity of the dwarves finally wearing him down.

"You calling me a fool, halfling? I'll have you know I am-"

"You are a fool if you can't use your eyes to see that there is no dirt or dust or ash that is the color of green spinach, Master Dwarf. This green powder here is dehydrated spinach…and this here is kale, and this one here is collared greens. The red powders are dehydrated tomatoes and peppers and beets and radishes and more!" Bilbo explained, trying not to grow impatient with them. He knew they were hungry and scared, and he knew they didn't trust him…they were always looking for a reason to not trust him, despite their king's insistence that they do so.

"And what are we supposed to do with those?" Scoffed another as they crossed their arms and leered down at Bilbo.

"Have hot soup for the winter, that's what, Master Dwarf! My people worked incredibly hard, incredibly quickly to ensure that just one tiny teaspoon of this powder was enough nutrients for a growing child or a working adult. You can't survive on bread and meat alone, especially when you're starving." Bilbo glared right back, crossing his arms in a similar fashion.

"Impossible. You expect us to believe that? What's more likely…you hobbits are able to make one teaspoon of powder sustain a grown dwarf, or that you hobbits kidnapped our King for five years and are trying to starve us to death now?" Another dwarf chimed in, and Bilbo could see the fear and anger swirling in his brown eyes.

Bilbo knew the signs of starvation as well as any hobbit, and he could see them on the hollowed cheeks of the dwarves before him…in the way their knuckles seemed a little more knobby and how the holes in their belts had been added out of necessity…Bilbo remembered all too well.

In their correspondence, Thorin made it clear that though their kingdom prospered in many ways, the food scarcity had become more burdensome by the day…Last year alone there were nobles who had taken far more than their winter rations, leaving the hard working folk toiling away in the mines with less food to replenish their energy…Even if dwarves were hearty, and there were no reported deaths from a lack of food, it was clear that this winter would be different.

Before Bilbo could even speak to console and ensure that his people had not kidnapped or brainwashed the king…before he could insist and show how the dehydrated foods would feed and fuel them…Bilbo couldn't breath.

His head was spinning as he stared up from at the dwarves, wondering how they were all so much taller so suddenly…He coughed, a vain attempt at getting air in his lungs as right when he began to get to his knees, he felt a swift kick to his side.

"You fat hobbits! Always bragging about your fucking food!" Growled one of the redheaded dwarves…which one, Bilbo couldn't tell, as he was sure the amount had doubled suddenly, his vision playing tricks on him as he felt blow after blow. He could hardly hear the other accusations and curses and insults that were slung at him, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder as he was kicked around like a hackey sack.

"—show up in our mountain…with a dwarfling you stole?" Was the first clear thing Bilbo heard.

"Wh-what?" Bilbo choked out, staring at the dwarves as they danced around him in a circle…or perhaps it was Bilbo who was being spun in a circle, he couldn't tell…

"Don't play dumb you filthy Shire-Rat! It's clear that your son is a dwarf! You stole him! Do you know how few children we have? Yet you still stole one of our own?" They screamed in rage.

"F-frodo is my son!" He glared, earning another kick to the gut.

"We'd be doing him a favor by getting rid of you! You are scum! Coming to our mountain, making our people do all this labor as if it will actually do anything? These lands are ruined…if you wanted to help us you'd bring food! Not this dirt!"

"I can assure you that the Thain's child is not a stolen dwarfling."

The dwarves that had been beating on Bilbo froze, dropping their hold on the bloodied hobbit to turn around, and seeing none other than Prince Frerin standing there with Dwalin and several others of the royal guard behind him.

"Dwalin. Take them to the dungeons for assaulting a foreign dignitary…"

"Aye, yer' majesty," Dwalin nodded, his expression as neutral as possible as he signaled for the guards to follow and arrest the dwarves. Once they were taken away, Dwalin and Frerin rushed to Bilbo.

"What happened?" Frerin asked as he helped Bilbo to his feet, and Bilbo could see the calm visage slip away in favor of the prince Bilbo had gotten to know, his blue eyes wide and nervous as he and Dwalin took Bilbo from the food storage room, locking it behind them.

"I-I don't…k-know…" Bilbo wheezed, clutching his ribs as he tried to understand. "They…accused…me…of n-not having…enough food for them…a-and…that I k-kidnapped Thorin…and s-stole Frodo…" Bilbo explained, coughing as stumbled his way to the healing ward with Dwalin and Frerin holding him up on either side.

They could have easily carried him, but Bilbo made it known early on that those who doubted him would see him as weak if he was carried, rather than holding himself upright, even when beaten as he was now.

Thorin was by his side almost as soon as Bilbo arrived in the infirmary, having been told what happened by another guard. He rushed to Bilbo's bedside, grabbing his hand as his blue eyes scanned the extent of his One's injuries, rage boiling within him as he saw what his own people had done to the hobbit.

"Dwalin…Bring Frodo here. Now…I want him by my side from now on." Thorin demanded as Bilbo slept, his little chest staggering as he breathed in. "Bilbo…I'm…I am so sorry…this…I…I didn't realize…I didn't know that…my own people's distrust was so deep…I am sorry…" he whispered against Bilbo's knuckles.

"Oh hush…" Bilbo groaned, rousing again, though his eyes were hardly open as he stared up at Thorin, groggy and tired. "They…they're…they're scared…and they…took…it out…on me…" Bilbo choked out, as if it was an excuse for their behavior. "The best…revenge is proving…someone wrong…let me…" Bilbo insisted, squeezing Thorin's hand weakly before falling back asleep.

Word had spread that the Thain had been assaulted and that his attackers had been imprisoned, leading to many mixed feelings under the mountain. The majority of dwarves didn't care that Bilbo was a hobbit, they cared that he was helping them…They cared that he traveled across the mountains to bring them anything…

While a large minority disapproved of a hobbit being in their midst…The distrust that had been sewn by Dis and Frerin, though unintentionally, for fifteen years, had caused many to be against hobbits and their sly, snake like ways. Their gossip spread…rumors about how Bilbo was actually trying to steal the King back to their lands to strengthen the Shire with dwarven armies now. Or that Bilbo had so upset that the Shire's captured dwarf was actually a king that he had come to the mountain to poison and kill everyone under it…

It took a few days for Bilbo to feel physically and mentally well enough to go to the dungeons to pay his attackers a visit, and when he did, he had to use a cane to steady him when he felt weak…but he approached their cells none the less, holding his head high.

Silently, Bilbo looked at the dwarves, his expression calm and cool as he felt how chilly the dungeons were, and watched as the prisoners shivered from the cold stones beneath them and air around them…but their shivering all but stopped when their perceived enemy did something completely unexpected.

Bilbo took off his cloak.

Followed by his thick coat, and then the sweater he had underneath it all, leaving him in his summer clothes despite it feeling like winter in the dungeons.

Bilbo then took a box from Dwalin and set it on the ground before he sat down, legs crossed, on the cold stone floor in front of the cell bars, staying silent just as the prisoners were. From the box he pulled some scrap kindling and started a small controlled fire— though it did take him some time, as his hands were trembling as he grew cold quickly—and set up a makeshift tripod with a chain before attaching a pot to it.

After Bilbo poured water in the pot, he reached into his box once more and pulled out some lovely grey yarn, courtesy of Ori, as he began to knit the with his fingers, staying silent…as did the prisoners. After some time, and some progress on his knitting, Bilbo took a deep breath, but did not move his eyes from his own hands.

"My mother and father had to use my knitting needles for kindling…" Bilbo began softly. "We'd already used what else we could spare…but it didn't matter…the fire needed to burn hotter if we were to survive the fell winter. So…I taught myself how to knit with my fingers…I made blankets and even helped when it wasn't snowing terribly to deliver them to our neighbors…because I had always been taught that that is what people do. They help others when in need." Bilbo explained and carefully pulled off his knitting, setting it to the side when the pot finally boiled.

Reaching into his box, he pulled out several tins, and opened each one up, revealing a rainbow of powders.

"When the Fell Winter was finally over, my grandfather who was the Thain at the time, had brought together farmers and chefs and the like to learn about what plants helped us in what ways…if we ever faced a Fell Winter again, we'd have the proper nutrients." Bilbo said as he took out a spoon to stir the pot.

"After years of study and research, we created ways to fortify our crops…to not only make them stronger and resistant to weather, but also to make them more nutritional. Don't ask me how they did it, I'm not a scientist, I'm the Thain…" The hobbit chuckled as he remembered being told everything, but it had been in one ear and out the other.

"We learned to simplify nutrition by color…so that everyone could understand how to have a properly balanced diet…" He then took a small spoon and the tin of red powder, and added two scoops. "Red foods are good for your heart and your immune system. This is foods like tomatoes, and beets. This one here, is your yellow and orange…it helps with your skin, and your eyes too…and also your immunity as well…So think carrots, squash, and sweet potatoes. Then here you've got your green, like I mentioned before, is your leafy vegetables, like spinach, kale, as well as other things like…zucchini or broccoli!

"This color is for your bones, and can help support your body's natural…detoxing, so to say… Now here, for purple, we've got…purple cabbage and…I do believe we also did aubergine. This one is very important, as it promotes a healthy brain…when you feel like your brain might be a little foggy or slow in the winter you need to eat some purple foods. It is also good for inflammation…Then here we have brown…not the prettiest color, but my favorite. Brown is potatoes…It's also mushrooms, parsnips, garlic…These are good for many things…again, immunity being the main one…heart health, and so forth…"

The water had been boiling, the clear color changing as each scoop of powder was added to the mix, blending and becoming a deep shade of yellowish-brown, and it smelled delicious. As Bilbo's attackers leaned closer to the bars to smell the broth and to feel the warmth of the fire. As Bilbo stirred, he reached for one more tin, and opened it, allowing the heavy aroma of the spices to fill their noses, warming them as much as the fire did.

"Of course, there'd be no joy in eating such nutritious food if it tasted bland…so we add herbs and spices like ginger and garlic and thyme and so on…obviously you need salt too…good for regulating your body so long as you use it moderately…" He smiled as he cooked, stirring the pot once more before he took several cups out, one for him and each of the dwarves behind bars, and poured himself a cup of soup.

"Unlike you lot, I can't drink boiling things…so I have to blow on it…" He snorted, blowing on his soup before taking a sip and letting out a happy sigh. "Master Dwalin, would you like a cup?" Bilbo asked, turning to the guard who accepted gratefully, taking his first taste and practically moaning as he did so.

"Very good, this is, Thain Derwen…" Dwalin said honestly, and Bilbo couldn't help but feel rather chuffed as he saw the brightness in Dwalin's eyes, knowing he truly enjoyed the soup. "Filling too…surprisingly…"

"Too filling for another cup?" Bilbo asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.

"…Aye. Never thought I'd say one cup of soup filled me, but aye…No room for more." He said, bewildered at how such a thing was possible.

"Now, would any of you like to try some?" Bilbo asked softly, his face kind as he turned to the dwarves.

It took a moment, but one stepped forward…the one who had first attacked Bilbo. He was too skinny, and Nori's research showed that he was most likely giving his own rations to his children, making sure they were always full, even at his own demise. Quietly and carefully, he held out his hand between the bars, and Bilbo gave him the cup.

"Oh…" He said in surprise after the first taste, and he began slowly drinking the soup. "This is…this is…" He muttered, shocked at the soup and at Bilbo.

"Good, right? Now, my wagons didn't only have vegetables…but there is also meat. Will we be surviving the winter with soup? Yes…I'm sorry it can't be more diverse…but dwarves know better than most that survival is not comfortable or fun…" Bilbo sighed, and began pouring cups for the others.

Once again, rumors traveled fast thought the mountain, much like they did in the Shire…But this time, they were much kinder…

"You won them over with food…" Thorin smiled as he watched his people lining up for their rations as well as cook books that the Shire had provided, filled with many soup recipes to make with the powders, should they wish it.

"I'm a hobbit, my dear…It's what we do."

Chapter Text

The desolation, once dreary and grey, was now covered in a blanket of pure white snow. It was absolutely beautiful to Bilbo as he stood in front of Thorin on a balcony with the king's cloak enveloping both of them, the wind biting at their faces as they silently take in the sight.

Beneath the snow was well till earth that Bilbo had helped personally cover in compost and fertilizer, insisting that they collect all the animal waste they could from every stable possible, much to the disgust of the dwarves who knew nothing of agriculture…but with the King and the Prince at his back, they did as Bilbo said. It had smelled terrible and there was nearly a riot from the citizens of Dale as the heavy scent of fertilizer continued spreading, but Bilbo had told them that come next harvest, when they see just how bountiful the harvest will be, they will be longing for the scent again!

"Well…perhaps not longing for it…it's not as if we enjoy the smell of it…Thank goodness for the snow freezing it." Bilbo laughed as Thorin asked Bilbo to explain once more how their hard work actually worked. "But it's a good thing we added all of that mulch to keep the ground warm too…" He smiled as he tilted his head up and kissed under the king's chin, enjoying the way he could feel Thorin's pulse pick up from his little peck.

"Bilbo…You have done so much for my people…" Thorin mumbled softly as he pulled the hobbit in closer, pressing Bilbo's back to his torso, ensuring the hobbit could feel his heart beat through his many layers…making sure that Bilbo knew his heart beat for him and him alone.

"Any-"

"Don't say anyone would have done it. Not even any hobbit, you can't act as if a Sackville would have helped…You agreed to help strangers…simply because you thought it to be right to do…For that, I will always be grateful to Thain Derwen…" Thorin insisted, needing to know that Bilbo understood how special he was.

"W-well…I suppose you're right…" Bilbo couldn't help but blush, not one to take such praise so easily. "But…I won't lie…I might have had some…ulterior motives to joining this quest…" The hobbit said sheepishly, turning around to face his dwarf and hold his gaze. "I would have helped regardless…but I wasn't always planning on visiting myself…B-but…when Frodo…Frodo asked if maybe…if maybe Holm lived in Erebor," He took a deep breath, feeling sheepish and a little ashamed, feeling as if he were letting down Thorin for not being purely altruistic.

"You came…you came for me?" Thorin asked softly, his lips gently parted and his eyes swimming with love and wonder at his hobbit's words.

"I-I did…" Bilbo nodded, placing his hands on Thorin's chest, always enjoying the proof beneath his fingers that his love was alive and well. "I'm sorry I'm not so selfless as you think I am…"

Thorin cut that train of thought off before it could take hold, and pressed his lips to Bilbo's tenderly, because yes, he truly did enjoy stunning his One into silence with a kiss.

"No one…does things for me." Thorin confessed softly. "I am a King. Everything I do is for my people. I've been given gifts and vows of fealty…but they're all for me as King. Not me as Thorin." He explained, caressing Bilbo's cold cheeks with his thumbs which somehow avoided the sting of the cold, still warm as they brushed the hobbit's skin.

"I'd do anything for you…" Bilbo smiled softly, his hazel eyes half lidded as he stared lovingly into Thorin's own, as if challenging the dwarf to doubt him as he kissed his palm softly. "If I couldn't find you, then I'd continue waiting for your return…and if that never happened well then whenever I faded, I'd march right down to your Maker's doors and order him to hand you over."

"He'd be a fool if he denied you…" Snorted Thorin as he pulled Bilbo in closer as the wind picked up, though neither seemed inclined to leave the cold balcony, feeling as if the serenity of the scene was theirs and theirs alone…

"And I'd be a fool if I denied my feelings for you…" Thorin added after a moment, picking Bilbo up in his arms as he finally carried his hobbit back inside to his chambers, closing the balcony doors behind them. "Bilbo…I love you." He smiled as he set Bilbo down in a chair before the roaring fire, kneeling before him as he laid his head in the hobbit's lap, enjoying his clever fingers through his hair.

"I love you too, Thorin…" Sighed Bilbo sweetly as the dwarf's body and the fire warmed him up, closing his eyes as he relaxed into the chair.

"That's why I'm going to announce that you are my One."

Bilbo's eyes shot open when the words were fully processed, and he looked down at the dwarf with wide, confused eyes.

"Wh-what?" Bilbo squeaked, his nose twitching in the way that Thorin always found most adorable.

"I…I cannot go on with these rumors swirling about you…me…about our son…I want my own happiness…I want…I want you. My family." He explained, his bearded cheeks bright red as he voiced his long held desires. "I kept you a secret from my family for fifteen years, Bilbo…when all I wanted to do was shout from the top of my mountain that you were my One. You are not a secret to be kept, but my One who deserves to be publicly cherished and acknowledged."

"Y-you're…not ashamed of me?" Bilbo asked softly, his long held fears seeping out the more Thorin spoke.

"Why would I ever be ashamed of you?" Thorin asked, confused as he held Bilbo's hands.

"B-because! I'm a hobbit! I…I was so scared, Thorin! Scared that you left me because you remembered who you were…that you were disgusted that you had a taken a hobbit as your lover, even for one night. That you…that you were never going to return to me because of it! I feared you'd reject Frodo if you ever met…that you'd regret our love and truly abandon me for good…" Bilbo choked out, refusing to look at Thorin's beautiful, prying eyes as he searched Bilbo's own for where he'd get such an idea.

"The only thing I am ashamed of is not coming back for you…I am sorry I left you alone…I will never be ashamed of you, or my love for you...Frodo is the greatest gift you could have ever given me, for I have always wanted to be a father. Our love has blessed me time and time again, even when we were apart. The memory of you gave me strength to face a dragon, Bilbo…"

"With riddles, so I was told…" Bilbo sniffled, wiping tears away before they could fully form, frustrated with himself for crying so easily simply by expressing this fear.

"The same riddles your father taught me…" Thorin smirked, and saw the twinkle in Bilbo's eyes once more. "Thirty white horses stand on a red hill. First they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still…"

"Teeth." Bilbo replied on reflex, knowing his father's riddles as well as he knew how to breathe.

"An eye in a blue face saw an eye in a green face. 'That eye is like to this eye' said the first eye, 'But in low place, not in high place.'…That one always used to stump me." Thorin asked next, happy to see Bilbo's worry leaving his eyes.

"Sun shining on daisies, of course." Bilbo smirked, giving a playful eye roll as if he'd ever be out riddled by anyone but his own father himself.

"What's in my pocket?"

"What?" Bilbo asked, clearing his throat as the question took him off guard. "What sort of riddle is that?"

"What is in my pocket?" He asked again as he took both of Bilbo's hands in his own. "You've got three guesses."

"W-well that's not fair! It's hardly a riddle." Bilbo huffed, his sense of competition growing within him as he tried to think of what could be in the dwarf's many pockets. "Fine…umm…a key?"

"Not a key." Smiled Thorin, shaking his head.

"Come now, you've always got those keys on you for all your rooms and chambers…you can't tell me that you don't have keys in your pocket." Bilbo grumbled.

"I do have keys, but not in the pocket I'm referring to now."

"Well then which pocket are you talking about? Give me a hint!"

"No hints. Have I truly out riddled Bilbo Baggins?" Thorin teased playfully, and he knew that if his family ever saw how gentle he was when he and Bilbo were alone together like this…they'd believe he was enchanted. Perhaps Thorin was…enchanted that is. Whenever he was with Bilbo he felt as if the Shire's sun was shining warm on him while the green grass was beneath his feet. He felt as if wars never existed, and battles were never fought…He felt at peace in a way he longed to return to…Something his family just didn't understand.

"Excuse me! I do not surrender in a game of riddles! If it's not keys then…perhaps it is…is it…matches?" He suggested, trying to think of the things he'd learned Thorin to keep on him.

"Not matches."

"Jewelry!"

"What kind?" Thorin asked, his heart skipping a beat as Bilbo's guesses got closer.

"I don't know…umm…a necklace?" Bilbo asked before looking down at their clasped hands, and saw the rings on the dawrf's fingers. "No! A ring! Is it a ring?" Bilbo asked giddily, and felt rather proud of himself when the dwarf's smile grew bright and excited.

Reaching into his pocket, Thorin pulled out a small, intricate box, and placed it in Bilbo's hands.

"Bilbo Baggins…"

"Wh-what?"

"I have loved you for fifteen years."

"Wait, what?"

"And I will love you for hundreds more…I will-"

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"I will still ask your father for your hand in marriage…but until that day…I will ask you myself. Bilbo Bag-"

"Yes!" The hobbit practically squealed as he threw himself at the dwarf, peppering his scruffy face with kisses before their lips found each other.

"You will?" Thorin asked breathlessly when they pulled away.

"Yes! Yes of course I will! I will marry you, you silly stone brained dwarf!" He cried out happily, finding that he had tackled the dwarf onto his back in front of the fireplace, pinning him down as he accepted the dwarf's proposal. Bilbo watched as the sappy dwarf chuckled in relief, and took the ring from the box before sliding it onto Bilbo's finger.

It was a simple, small and woven, rose-gold ring that fit perfectly on his finger, as if he were born to wear it. He raised his hand to his face, taking in the way it shimmered in the firelight, twisting his hand in different ways to watch as the light made it shine differently with every twist and turn of his wrist.

"Thorin…it's…" He began, only to be cut off by the long remembered sensation of something hard between the dwarf's legs. "O-oh…oh my…" Bilbo blushed, ever bashful now that he knew about sex and all that came with it…like the consequences.

But Thorin had always wanted to be a father, and Bilbo knew how desperately Frodo wanted a little sibling…

So consequences weren't off the table…

"Y-you know…when…when I heard that King Thorin…slayed a dragon with riddles…" Bilbo began brathily, his eyes fixed on Thorin as he guided his large and rough, but oh so gentle hands to the hobbit's hips that the dwarf loved so much. His blue eyes following the hobbits fingers as they began unbuttoning his green waistcoat.

"When…I heard that story…" Bilbo continued, unable to help but bite his bottom lip as he felt Thorin squeeze his hips as the hobbit began seeking the sweet friction between their heated bodies. "I thought that…if I were ever to fall in love with someone else…it'd be him." He smiled as he removed his vest, his cheeks flushing more and more as he began working on the buttons of his shirt, slowly removing it to reveal his body to his lover once more.

Though Thorin had seen him nearly nude in the hospital wing twice now, where he saw scars that were old and new…he hadn't truly seen Bilbo. In the hospital bed, Bilbo was pale and tired, worn from travel and fighting to survive…but in front of the fireplace, Bilbo glowed like the Valar themselves.

As if his skin itself was golden…as if his hair which had ensnared Thorin's attention from the very first moment…as if all of Bilbo was an otherworldly deity who sole power was bringing Thorin pleasure and bliss…as if Thorin had been made by Mahal simply to be loved by this god of a hobbit.

"Bilbo…" Thorin whispered softly, leaning up to help remove the hobbit's shirt, tossing it to join the vest as his mouth lay waste to the hobbit's skin, feeling the way the hobbit's pulse beat beneath his tongue as he he tasted the sweetness that was his One. "You…you taste divine…" He whispered and swallowed hard when he saw the goosebumps raise on Bilbo's skin just from his words alone.

"I…I presented…when…when we met." Bilbo spoke softly as Thorin's lips and fingers continued marking their claim on the hobbit, only to feel them pause their caresses as Thorin looked at Bilbo curiously, his eyes heavy with love and desire. "It's why you thought I smelled so good…" Bilbo smiled a toothy grin at his dwarf, wrapping his arms loosely around Thorin's neck, crossing his wrists over each other as he rubbed their noses together.

"You…That night? You presented as…a bearer?" Thorin asked, having simply accepted that Frodo was his son without a single doubt in his heart or mind.

Bilbo nodded, brushing their noses together again as he stole another kiss from the dwarf's lips, tasting him slowly and curiously, learning the feeling of his love's lips once more. "I didn't know…and then…I got sick…and my mother was the first to realize what had happened…It took four months…" He blushed, feeling rather embarrassed about it all.

"I'm sorry I was not with you…That I was not there to support you…to rub your feet and tell you how beautiful you are." Thorin sighed, his fingers fluttering down Bilbo's spine before his hands gripped his hips once more, as if to steady both of them and to keep himself grounded, rather than bucking up desperately against his hobbit.

This time there was no rush.

No all consuming compulsion urging them to consummate their bond under the stars.

Now was the time to explore and learn and love…to be gentle and to hold one another close.

"There will be time for those rough hands to ravage me another time…" Bilbo snorted, practically reading the dwarf's desperation from his grip alone. "For now…I wish to feel you…and memorize every inch of you…" He whispered as one of Bilbo's hands trailed down his front before gently ghosting over the bulge in Thorin's pants, making him take a sharp inhale between his teeth.

"I've never forgotten a single inch of you…But I realize now that the years haven't been as kind for you as I wish they were…" Thorin frowned, his eyes lingering on the different scars.

"Well…it simply means there is more for you to learn…" The hobbit smiled tenderly as he gently pushed Thorin to laying back down on the furs that were laid before the hearth, and then began unlacing the dwarf's tunic, and pulled it over his head with his help, gasping at the sight of such tantalizing hair keeping his bear of a dwarf warm, unable to keep his fingers from running through the forest of coarse, raven hair that hid the much of the king's skin.

As he revealed the dwarf's skin to the heat of the fire, Bilbo's fingers traced over the multitude of cuts and scars he'd not seen their only other time together, as they'd left their shirts on while their trousers had come off very quickly. Bilbo couldn't help himself when he leaned over, kissing his way down the dwarf's skin, inquiring about each and every wound, and trying his best to not cry at the far too many near death experiences his love had faced in his life.

"This one?" Bilbo would ask, his fingers tracing the shape of the memory on the dwarf's skin, and Thorin would sigh sweetly…or not notice the feeling at all, as the scar was too deep, and any sensation there had long since left him when his wounds healed.

"That one…I fell down the stairs when I was a child…It had snowed outside and I had finally convinced my mother to let me out to see the snow rather than from a window…but in my excitement, I fell and had to stay inside anyways…" Thorin chuckled, loving how Bilbo did his best to not laugh at the childhood story, far more gentle and kind than the tales of orcs and dragons and war.

As Bilbo's lips and fingers made their way lower and lower, his body pressed against Thorin's as he moved south, feeling Thorin's aching stiffness patiently pressing up against Bilbo's chest as he kissed the dwarf's ribs…Thorin's breathing had sped up, his lungs trembling as he urged himself to stay patient, even when Bilbo's lips kissed his hip bones, then following the rigid v-line that guided Bilbo's lips to his waistband, causing the dwarf to buck slightly up, pushing his clothed crotch against Bilbo's mouth as he placed open kisses on the fabric, pulling out whines of pleasure from Thorin as the hobbit's fingers worked on releasing him from the confines.

"Thorin…may I?" Bilbo asked as he looked up at Thorin who was now propped up on his elbows to watch the hobbit. Bilbo's cheek was pressed against the lengthy heat of Thorin's member, nuzzling it as if it were something precious and deserving of such care.

"Please…" Thorin groaned, his breath hitching as he watched Bilbo's eyes flutter closed as his cute, pink tongue suddenly lay flat against the underside of his cock, licking slowly up to his tip before dipping in to take a taste of the dwarf's essence beading desperately, coating the hobbits tongue before he lowered his head, engulfing very tip of Thorin's cock in his wet heat. He gently pulled back, pushing some loose curls behind his ears to keep them from his face as he continued licking and kissing and providing gentle suction to the top of Thorin's cock while his hands carefully began their eager work on his shaft, remembering how Thorin had shuddered all those years ago when the ridges of his palms would slide over the underside.

"Bilbo…you…you're so perfect…" Thorin whispered as his own hand made their way to Bilbo's hair, carefully holding the curls back when Bilbo's mouth began replacing his hands the deeper he took Thorin, and the dwarf struggled to hold back his chuckle of amusement and fondness for his love when he watched him wipe the spit off his hands and onto his own trousers, focusing on his mouth rather than his hands and fingers.

There were no complaints from Thorin. Even though Bilbo's nimble fingers brought him to heights he couldn't even believe possible, the hobbit's tongue was even more unbelievable…as hobbits did indeed know how to find pleasure in the things they put in their mouths. Thorin knew Bilbo waited, just as he had…that neither of them had taken a partner in their time apart…all Bilbo's skill came from focusing on Thorin's own reactions…

How when he dragged his mouth slowly back up to the tip, Thorin would shudder in delight when his teeth scraped oh so gently right before his tip. Or how Thorin's hand would tighten in Bilbo's hair whenever Bilbo's tried to take Thorin a little deeper, gagging slightly as he adjusted his throat to the foreign sensation, but refusing to pull away unless he needed to.

"B-Bilbo! Just…just like that…" He moaned, smiling as his head fell back in bliss whenever Bilbo's tongue would curl around Thorin's thickness before coming off of him with a wet pop to catch his breath.

"Is…am I doing alright?" He asked hopefully, his voice clearly sore from the way Thorin's cock was bringing about bruises along the roof of the hobbit's mouth and down the back of his throat whenever Bilbo dared to go deeper.

"You are doing wonderful…I want…I want to please you…please let me…Let me make you feel just as good as you make me feel…" He pleaded desperately, wanting to taste the hobbit in his mouth once again. Bilbo gave a nod to his request, and Thorin carefully guided him to first remove his pants, and then to straddle the dwarf's face.

"Th-this is embarrassing!" He laughed, unable to help but smile at the sight of Thorin's handsome face tucked between the hobbit's thick thighs. Bilbo didn't care for too much longer about how embarrassing it all was, though…as when he watched Thorin take a long, languid lick on his sack (which had far less hair than Thorin's did), he couldn't bring himself to care much about anything other than the bliss of Thorin's mouth.

With care, Thorin silently used his hands to guide Bilbo to laying back down on top of the dwarf so that they could bring pleasure to one another in tandem. When Thorin finally took Bilbo's length into his mouth, he heard Bilbo let out a shudder before the hobbit's cute, wet mouth swallowed his tip once more, surprised at how the new position allowed him to take the dwarf deeper into his mouth more easily with how it curved, and the hobbit took full advantage of this fact.

As if spurred on by a challenge, Thorin too took Bilbo deeper, though his focus was still on bringing Bilbo the most pleasure possible, wrapping his arms around the hobbit as he pulled him even closer into him, and took him deeper into his mouth, and moaning wetly around the hobbit's cock when Bilbo couldn't control his hips as they pressed deeper, begging Thorin to take his cock entirely.

And so the dwarf did, providing such heavenly pressure and suction to the hobbit's cock as he moved his hands to Bilbo's hips once more, telling the hobbit with touch alone to use his mouth, guiding him to pull out from the dwarf before diving back in, bottoming out with his tip pressing against Thorin's soft pallet and his balls flush against the dwarf's nose. It was pure bliss for Thorin, as if that was where the sweet honey and lavender scent of his hobbit originated from, and he wouldn't deny himself the bliss of being covered in Bilbo's musk.

"Th-thorin…Thoin…I-I'm…I'm going to…" Bilbo moaned as Thorin conintued moving the hobbits hips for him, for which Bilbo was grateful, as he was struggling to hold himself in that position, and long since given up on his pampering of Thorin's cock as he simply couldn't focus with the way Thorin took him.

Thorin's hands moved from Bilbo's hips to his ass, squeezing and kneading him like a baker as he made swallowing motions on the hobbit's cock, coaxing him to cum down his throat.

"Thorin!" Bilbo cried out, his thighs tensing and trembling, muscles spasming as Thorin swallowed him down, his large hands keeping him in place as he refused to waste a drop of his One's precious seed. It had been fifteen years since he tasted it last, and it was even better than he remembered. When the two finally came untangled from one another, Bilbo collapsed onto his back, panting as he looked up in bewilderment and bliss as he stared at the rafters and stone above him.

"How was -"

"Thorin…I…I think you sucked my soul out…" Bilbo said seriously before he burst into a fit of giggles, which Thorin quickly joined in on.

With Bilbo on his back now well spent and pleasantly limp, Thorin moved so that he was now hovering over the hobbit, leaning down to kiss him, grinning when Bilbo didn't shy away from his own taste on Thorin's tongue. In fact, even if the taste was less than pleasant to Bilbo, the thrill of it all was incredibly enjoyable, and so his tongue danced with Thorin's, catching one another's moans and breathy sighs as they held one another.

Thorin lightly nibbled on Bilbo's bottom lip, sucking it between his own and pulled out a delectable whine from the hobbit as his blunt nails dragged down Thorin's back, leaving trails of red against his pale pink skin and sending shivers down his spine.

"Thorin," Bilbo moaned as the dwarf nipped at his ear, licking the shell of it before pulling the pointed tip into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the nub at the top before biting just a little harder. "Thorin!" Bilbo cried out, and for a moment, the dwarf thought that he'd caused his hobbit pain…but when he pulled himself away, staring down at the hobbit with worry, he felt a sticky sensation on his belly. Looking down, he saw his and Bilbo's stomach's smeared over with come from Bilbo's soft prick, having come again from Thorin's teasing.

Bilbo's face was bright red in embarrassment as he covered his face in his hands, peeking at Thorin between his fingers as he tried to calm himself at the sight of Thorin running his fingers through the streak of Bilbo's warmth, watching with lustful eyes as his the hobbit's skin, though firmer than when they first met, still yielding to the dwarf's touch.

Yet Bilbo's embarrassment shifted quickly. No longer was the red in his face from how he'd come so quickly again…but from how Thorin's fingers traced the lines that scared his belly, having never left his skin after all these years.

Bilbo knew there was no reason to feel ashamed for the stretch marks that marred his skin. His mother had shown him her own, though they were far lighter and less intense than Bilbo's. She told Bilbo that they were natural, and that they were nothing to feel so uneasy about…yet Bilbo did.

It was an odd dichotomy to be proud of your body, while still, no matter how hard you tried not to…hating it.

Bilbo had gone quickly from having what he deemed as his 'perfect body'. At thirty-three he felt handsome, and knew he was handsome to others. Now, Bilbo wasn't vain…he was confident. He didn't think beauty and appearance were the pinnacle of what made someone worthy of anything…but it certainly made him feel nice.

And then, suddenly, his body changed.

For twelve months Bilbo's body was altering itself to bring life into the world…His body ached as his hips widened, and his feet bore the burden of carrying more and more weight...Little Frodo wasn't so little after all. Small for a dwarf, but far too large for a hobbit. Day by day Bilbo's body stretched and contorted and remembered staring at himself in the mirror, horrified at the way his body had become something so…foreign.

His soft skin, clear that Holm's hands had touched lovingly was now covered in acne he'd thought he was done with from his youth…there were dark spots some days, and bruises he had no clue how he got them…and there were stretch marks. He hated them more than he hated the blue, spidery veins in his legs, and more than the way his chest swelled and ached…

He looked more and more feminine as the days passed…with his belly ever growing, and his thighs thickening too, he couldn't even see his own penis without practically searching for it, for Yavanna's sake! He hadn't just lost his handsome figure that he was once so proud of…nor only the ability to move quickly or run through fields or climb trees…

He truly felt as if he'd lost his masculinity all together.

He never thought much of it…he was a he. He'd never questioned it like some folk did…he was born, given a label, and as he grew up, he continued to enjoy that label. Nothing ever made him doubt that or feel uncomfortable in his skin about his gender…never. He remembered when he actually played a female character in their school house play back when he was a little faunt, and while some of the boys teased him for wearing a dress, he thought he looked rather dashing in it.

'A dashing young man in a dashing dress.' Bungo had smiled, thinking his son did a wonderful job in the performance.

But suddenly as he stared at himself in the mirror, he felt so incredibly wrecked with grief…a feeling of immense loss rushing through him as he stared at what he deemed to be a hideous mistake. Not Frodo…but himself.

Though the jagged, claw-like marks over his belly changed from purplish-red to pinkish-white over the years since giving birth to Frodo, he still couldn't look at himself in the mirror as he used to when he was younger. It wasn't until he became Thain and became even more active that his skin finally became firmer under his own hands…but the texture still felt wrong when he touched them.

Joining the bounders had helped even more, as the rangers and elves made sure that all of the bounders were fit enough to ensure the Shire's safety, and Bilbo was proud to come out of training in the top ten of the first group of recruits. He had finally regained a sense of his masculinity then…feeling a little silly that holding a sword made him feel more like a male than anything had in a very long time.

So when Thorin's eyes were fixed on his body…and his fingers traced the lines that were etched into his body…his hand itched to hold his sword. An uncomfortable sensation…the need to run…to cover himself up and hide spread through him, and his heart quickened as he subconsciously looked for an escape route…

"Is this Yavanna's lightning, then?" Thorin asked softly, his question bringing an abrupt pause to Bilbo's racing mind.

"Wh-what?" Bilbo breathed out nervously, confused as he kept his eyes closed, trying to calm himself.

"These marks…is this the lightning that Yavanna brought down upon your enemies?" Thorin clarified as he touched the scars as if he were worshipping the lines themselves.

"N-no…it-" Bilbo felt flushed and ugly as Thorin kissed the skin reverently.

"I know what they are…" Thorin said, and Bilbo could feel the dwarf's lips turn up into a smile. "They're the marks of a warrior…reminders of the battles of bringing life into the world…They're so beautiful." He murmured with affection as his fingers continued tracing.

"They're hideous…" Bilbo scoffed out, confused as to how his love could be so utterly blind.

"To you, maybe…and I will respect that…If you wish me to stop my adoration of them, I will…but know that to me…this is proof that you carried my child. This is proof that you held him in your womb and cared for him, protected him…all while I wasn't with you…These are warrior lines and I will always find them to be as beautiful as your hazel eyes, or your freckles or your lips…seeing them on your hips? Makes me hardly able to control myself, Bilbo…You're just too beautiful, and I am unworthy of such a gem as you…" He smiled, pulling himself away from Bilbo's stomach, to look him in the eye and show him his sincerity.

"…T-truly? You…you don't think they…make me look…odd? Different? Womanly?" Bilbo dared to ask, his cheeks flushing with heat when he saw the way Thorin smiled warmly at him.

"I have never seen a more attractive man in all my life. Bilbo, you are the epitome of masculinity…"

"You're teasing me." Bilbo scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stared at the fire.

"I am being honest. When I see you…I see strength, dedication, determination…I see loyalty and honor and a willing heart. I see everything I have ever loved. I see the man who carried my child, and bore the pain that came with it. I see you…"

Thorin's words warmed Bilbo's soul and though they wouldn't magically change the way Bilbo saw himself, he knew that despite his body being different from when they first met, he knew Thorin's words to be true. That Thorin loved him not despite what Bilbo saw as hideous, but because those lines were a part of Bilbo, and Thorin loved Bilbo.

"Oh…oh my…" Bilbo gasped, feeling a smile spread across his face as the words sank in. "Do you mean it?"

"Why would I ever lie to you?" Thorin asked, before answering with a chuckle. "Yes. I mean it. You are the most handsome man to have ever entered my life, and I am sure that there is no one in all the realms, in any age of this earth, that has been more beautiful than you. You're twice as beautiful as Luthien, and twice as handsome as Mahal himself. I'll stand by that and fight the Valar themselves if they dare to-"

"Shut up." Bilbo snorted as he pulled Thorin into another kiss, overwhelmed with love and affection for his dwarf. "Just kiss me…" He smiled against Thorin's lips, teasing him when he took the dwarf's lips between his own teeth this time.

"As you wish, my love…" Thorin grinned as he held himself over Bilbo once more, keeping himself from pressing his full weight against his small lover, knowing it was not just his height that was the cause of their size difference.

Thorin was sturdy, and weighed quite a bit more than his hobbit, and didn't wish to squish him into jelly…even if Bilbo seemed to want the dwarf to melt into him until they truly became one. Thorin could feel Bilbo beneath him, his smaller hand wrapping itself around his spent cock, fisting himself as he enjoyed the pleasure of kissing his dwarf.

"I…I want you to be in me, Thorin…" Bilbo whispered warmly against Thorin's lips, his hand leaving his own cock, now hard once more as he reached between Thorin's legs to grab his much larger member. "Do you have oil? Or do I need to find some olive oil amidst the salad dressings in the kitchens?" He teased, kissing the dwarf's nose as Thorin snorted.

"I've got oil…the drawer of my nightstand…" Thorin breathed out as he sat up, letting Bilbo get to his feet as he rushed away to grab the half used bottle.

"…Looks like you've made use of this…" Bilbo spoke carefully, giving Thorin some unsettling side eye before turning back to the vial.

"Yes. Yes I have…" Thorin agreed, smirking at Bilbo as he felt the jealousy radiating off of him, and decided to take a second to enjoy the feeling of having someone be jealous for him.

"My hands are rather rough…and the nights that I dreamed of your heat left me wanting…and my calloused fist would not suffice, so I had to use oil…And then there were also the times where I wondered how it'd feel to have you inside me. You know how thick my fingers are…" He teased, watching the way Bilbo's flushed cheeks were now red from remembering how it felt to have Thorin's fingers scissoring him open, curling inside him as they milked that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside him.

"Well, alright then…" Bilbo muttered as he cleared his throat, the apple of his throat bobbing up and down Bilbo's slender neck as Thorin watched him walk back towards him, unable to keep his eyes on Bilbo's face as he watched the way his thighs moved and rippled with each powerful and self assured step.

Thorin moved to sit criss-crossed on the furs, holding his hands out to Bilbo, guiding him to come sit in his lap. Bilbo giggled when his dwarf gently tugged him down, sitting with his back flushed against Thorin's warm torso, feeling his desperate cock pressing between Bilbo's cheeks, trying to find its home within him before it was time.

Thorin moved his cock so that it was straight up, smearing beads of precum against Bilbo's back as he took the vial from the hobbit's hands.

"Do you trust me?" Thorin asked, desperate to try something he'd done in far too many dreams, wanting to feel the hobbit in his lap, protected by the dwarf's body.

"More than anyone…" Bilbo whispered as he leaned back against him.

In one fluid motion, Thorin tucked one under Bilbo's knees, his legs draped over the dwarf's forearm as he curled the hobbit in closer to him, lifting his ass slightly in the process.

"Comfortable?" Thorin made sure as he looked down at his lover, seeing the way he was curled up against him, Thorin's heat enveloping the hobbit, just as the hobbit's heat would soon be enveloping his fingers.

"Y-yes…Yes…very…" He promised, even if he was curled into a ball almost, he felt very comfortable and cherished. His eyes then fluttered closed as he felt Thorin pour the contents of the oil over his crack, the faintly lavender-smelling liquid trickling down his ass. Before the oil could touch the furs, the king's large middle finger caressed the crevice, the oil easily allowing his finger to slip between the cheeks to press at the puckered ring of muscle.

Bilbo took a sharp breath in, gasping at the long missed feeling of something filling him, and leaned back into Thorin, lifting his ass a little more in the process as if to urge Thorin to give him that full feeling he desired.

"Patience, Amrâlimê…" He cooed, pulling Bilbo's knees closer to the hobbit's ches as he gently pressed the first finger inside, watching the hobbit's face the entire time for any hint of discomfort, but he only saw desire in the heavy hazel eyes that stared up him, his lips parted as he let out shallow moans of approval as Thorin's middle finger slid its way inside the hobbit, and each time a knuckle passed the tight ring, Bilbo would shudder at the full feeling growing inside.

"Thorin…It…It feels so nice…" Bilbo approved softly, his open mouth twitching into a smile as a small line of drool escaped his lips and made its way down the hobbit's chin. He was too blissed out, the connection between him and his dwarf…the feeling of being filled even by his finger alone, bringing him to such a place of pleasure that it was as if he were on a different plane of existence all together…

"Another?" He asked after some time, his middle finger still curling inside the hobbit each time he withdrew his finger, as if his finger were a hook that refused to let the hobbit go, only to gently glide into him once more.

"Y-yes! Oh, for all that is good and green…yes…" Bilbo begged, his tightness clenching around Thorin's finger as if to encourage Thorin to add another. And so the dwarf did, lipping his ring finger in right beside the first, having relaxed Bilbo enough with just one finger that he could slip a second in right beside the first, while his index and pinkie fingers pressed against the hobbit's plush cheeks.

"Fuck!" Bilbo moaned, clenching sweetly around Thorins' fingers, his face scrunched up with pleasure as he gasped for air, having forgotten how to breathe for a moment from just how overwhelming it was to have two of Thorin's eager and skilled fingers moving within him.

"Such a dirty word on such a pretty mouth…" Thorin teased, knowing hobbits didn't swear lightly…No. Knowing that Bagginses didn't swear lightly (not including Belladonna as she was a Took before a Baggins).

It was then that Thorin began spreading his fingers inside the hobbit, stretching him delightlfully as he continued his exploration of the hobbit's innermost depths, feeling Bilbo's muscles fluttering around him as he worked him nice and open.

"More…please, Thorin…I want you inside. Now. Please…." Bilbo begged, and Thorin paused.

"I've only put two fingers in you…" Thorin reminded, his fingers continuing to scissor in curl in a pattern so hypnotic that Bilbo nearly forgot what he had been begging for.

"I need you…Please…" He mewled, desperate for the dwarf's heat to be inside him, not just his fingers.

"I will not let our lust lead to pain or discomfort, Bilbo…Please…relax…" Thorin pleaded, hardly able to hang onto his own waning patience.

"B-but…" Bilbo began, only to squeak and gasp when Thorin began adding a third, unprompted, and Bilbo arched his back, wiggling against his fingers to get them in deeper.

"Patience…" He said again, gently as his fingers worked the hobbit open, and the hobbit no longer begged for more. Not because he didn't want more, but simply because language became impossible as Thorin's fingers stole any sense of logic or reasoning from the hobbit, making him a mewling and keening mess in the dwarf's lap, his wiggling and squirming bringing such a wonderful friction as Bilbo pressed up against the dwarf's cock.

"Ready?" Thorin asked when he finally felt the hobbit was in a good place to take him. Bilbo gave a weak nod, hardly aware of anything until Thorin pulled his fingers out.

"N-no! Put them back…" Bilbo whined, and Thorin could only chuckle at just how cute and absolutely blissfully undone, senseless with need just as Thorin was growing to be.

Thorin carefully repositioned them, laying Bilbo onto his back against the furs, taking in the sight of the hobbit splayed out for him as his legs spread readily as Thorin positioned himself between them, holding his heavy, weeping cock in his hand as he pressed himself teasingly against Bilbo's quivering hole as it yearned to be filled with more than just the dwarf's fingers. With the remaining oil, he coated his cock in the slick, floral smelling liquid, ensuring every inch of his throbbing erection was coated to ease his way into his One.

"You are so…" Thorin breathed out, his hand shaking with restraint as he held his cock as he began to push past the initial tightness…for despite how much Bilbo needed to be filled, the shock of how large Thorin was in comparison to him made the hobbit clench tightly. "Beautiful…" Thorin sighed as he managed to get past the delightful tightness.

Bilbo's hands reached out to either side and gripped desperately at the furs beneath him, pulling them into his white knuckled fists as he moaned for Thorin for more, and only releasing the first as he felt the dwarf oblige his needs, feeling the way his tip flared out and finally pushed past his hole, betraying the hobbit as it continued to clench tightly around Thorin rather than let the handsome dwarf inside.

"Relax my love…I need you to…relax…" Thorin whispered sweetly, a thin sheen of sweat beading on his brow from the sheer restraint he was impositing upon himself.

"And I need you to be in me…Please…If I could birth your child, I can take your cock, now please fuck me…" Bilbo begged, and Thorin couldn't help but chuckle to himself that the hobbit would be mortified later when he recalled his choice of words.

"Yes, my Thain…" Thorin teased as he took a deep breath, pressing forward now with less restraint, unable to hold back the long drawn out moan from deep within him as he felt himself become engulfed in Bilbo's body, feeling the way his muscles fluttered around his cock…the way his body quivered and contracted around him, as if trying to bring Thorin even deeper inside even after he bottomed out, his balls nestled against the hobbit's perfect ass.

Thorin held himself still for a moment, allowing the hobbit beneath him to adjust to his size, and he couldn't help but watch the beautiful face of his One as his eyes slowly opened, staring up at him as if he were staring at the beautiful stars in the night sky. Eventually, Bilbo let his tight grip on the furs go, and moved one hand to Thorin's cheek, weaving his fingers into his beard as he smiled dopeily up at him, his grin lopsided as he felt so utterly ruined by the dwarf in the most amazing way possible.

"More?" Thorin asked, desperate to lay his claim on the hobbit even more.

"More." Bilbo agreed, eager to feel himself be claimed and marked by the dwarf.

The dwarf adjusted how he held himself, kneeling more now as his hands gripped under Bilbo's thighs, pulling him up like Thorin's legs were a ramp, and in the process, pushing himself in at an even deeper angle, pulling out a needy cry from the hobbit as he felt Thorin's cock press against such wonderful places deep inside him.

As soon as Thorin's stance was solid, and he had a firm grip on the voracious hobbit, he began moving, his hold on his restraint slipping as his pace quickened and the force of his pistoling hips grew stronger, and rougher…But he couldn't stop…not with how Bilbo looked at him with such love and desire, and not when the sounds Thorin pounded out of the hobbit were like the most beautiful music…

There was something Thorin found so beautiful about the raw, unrefined nature of their love making…How it felt so real and natural to move together in these ways. It was a dance their bodies were attuned to without any practice…because they knew each other…From their first time meeting they knew each other…

Thorin knew that Bilbo's very soul was his, as much as his was Bilbo's…he felt the way the hobbit reacted to every movement. The way that each time he sank inside the hobbit, that Bilbo would relax enough for him to nestle deep inside, only to wrap himself even tighter around the dwarf whenever he eased back, as if begging the dwarf to stay inside him forever.

"Amrâlimê…where do you want it?" Thorin grunted, feeling his imminent release, every nerve of his body singing and tingling with need to come…to spread his seed and paint the hobbit white, wherever he was allowed. "Your belly? Your chest? Your face?" Thorin groaned, his hands gripping tightly to Bilbo as he continued fucking into him, loving how the hobbit gasped and moaned with every single thrust.

"Want…want it?" Bilbo asked, trying to think clearly, but it was a bit of a struggle when there was a such a handsome dwarf pounding themselves into you in the most perfect of ways.

"Yes…tell me…I'm close…" Thorin moaned, biting the inside of his cheek as he tightened his grip on Bilbo's hips once more, his rhythm faltering as he held himself back.

"Inside…Inside me, please…Thorin…I want it inside…" Bilbo begged, and it was the first time since they began their lovemaking that Thorin could see Bilbo's eyes shining clear and unfettered by lust. Just hearing the words were enough to make Thorin feel like he'd plant his seed in that very moment.

"Bilbo…you could…"

"Have your child…Again…your beautiful child…a sign of our love…Yes, I know…If you want it…I want it too…I-if not, you can come on my face-" Bilbo tried to say, only to squeak as Thorin began to ravage Bilbo at a frantic pace.

"I want…I want you…to make another child with you…let us grow our family…" Thorin agreed as he planted messy and wet open mouthed kisses wherever his lips could land, grunting as his cock pulsed and twitched inside his One, his hips flush against the hobbit's ass as he felt himself release inside him, marking him.

Bilbo shuddered beneath him, his eyes slowly closing as he felt nothing but peace and love in that moment, his arms wrapping around Thorin's waist as he urged the trembling dwarf to relax, and let Bilbo hold his weight for a moment. When Thorin finally relented, and carefully laid himself atop Bilbo, the hobbit couldn't help but let out a wheezed giggle as he was blanketed by the dwarf.

"I love you…" Bilbo whispered in his ear, kissing his jaw before he teased the dwarf and took his ear lobe between his lips, earning a breathy, high pitched moan from the dwarf.

"I love you too…" Thorin shuddered, and when his cock was too limp to stay inside his hobbit, he rolled over to lay beside him, his hand gently caressing Bilbo's beautiful belly as they lay together, unhurried, reveling in the act of love and devotion they'd just committed, smiling and laughing from the sweet mirth of it all.

"So…I think if they're a girl, Bella, and a boy, Bungo…" Bilbo finally said, breaking the silence they'd fallen into.

"Oh?" Hummed Thorin, his eyes flickering up to catch Bilbo's gaze, drawing him from his daze.

"What's a better way of asking for their forgiveness than naming a child after them?" Bilbo teased, and earned a playful flick from Thorin on his arm.

"You are ridiculous." He grinned, rubbing away the small red mark he'd inflicted.

"But you love me….my beautiful dwarf king…" He sighed, and nuzzled their noses together again as he closed his eyes, and let the scent of his dwarf, and the crackling fire behind them lull them into a gentle slumber once more.

Chapter Text

Much to Frodo and Bilbo's joy, Dwarves did celebrate Yule.

Much to the mountain's joy, Bilbo made sure that this year would be a memorable one.

Bilbo worked personally for days with the royal kitchen to create a menu to remember, saying that if a holiday needed a feast, then a feast the holiday shall have. The hobbit took charge of baking, the most amazing cakes and sweets that the mountain had eaten in some time.

With two hours till the grand hall's doors opened for the party, Bilbo scampered from the kitchen, Dwalin running after the hobbit as they made their way back to the royal wing so that they could both get ready.

"Well, well, well! Who is this handsome dwobbit? Good sir, have you seen my son, Frodo? He's about your height and never dresses so sharply! And his hair is far messier than yours, to boot!" Bilbo teased sweetly, enjoying how flustered his son became, seeing the resemblance between Thorin and Frodo yet again in the way their cheeks light up.

"Papa…I am Frodo! Do I look nice? Uncle Dori made this for me!" He grinned shyly, stepping forward and spinning around as Bilbo gestured for him to do, just as they'd do in the Shire at the tailor's to make sure his son's clothes fit him properly.

"Why, Frodo, you do look very nice. I think the blue is lovely…It makes your eyes very bright…did you know that?" Bilbo asked, guiding his son to stand in front of the mirror, as he crouched behind him. "See? You look very nice…I think blue and silver are a perfect color for you."

"Do…do you think I look like Adad?" Frodo asked hopefully, twisting his fingers together nervously, shy as he didn't want anyone knowing the depths of his adoration for his hero.

"Hmmm…Let me see…" Bilbo paused, and squinted as he inspected his son. "Black hair…same braids…your eyes are the same…same beads too…What do you think, Thorin?" Bilbo asked, turning to Thorin as he opened the door to their conjoined room, sneaking inside to not interrupt the precious moment.

"I think we look identical, Dushtel." Thorin grinned, scooping his son into his arms as they looked into the mirror together, grinning as Frodo's eyes widened at their nearly identical outfits.

"We…we look the same!" Frodo squealed in delight, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks round as he couldn't stop smiling his wide, toothy grin.

"We do! I told Master Dori that I wanted to look like the most amazing person…so I had him make me the same outfit you have." Thorin smiled, kissing his son's roses cheek before making the dwobbit laugh from the beard rub he gave right after.

"But what about Papa? Papa needs to wear something…" Frodo gasped as the king and prince took in the Thain's appearance.

"What? I can't show up covered in flour? I thought it was quite the statement…" He snorted, and walked to his wardrobe where he pulled out the outfit Dori had put there for him. "I suppose I'll wear this then…" He sighed dramatically, taking out a beautiful deep red outfit that was the perfect compliment to Thorin's and Frodo's Durin Blue.

While Thorin looked utterly ridiculous in hobbit attire, Bilbo looked very dashing in dwarven fashion. The long tunics, belts, and sashes and kaftans…they made Bilbo look elegant, noble, and powerful in a way that hobbit clothes just couldn't aspire to.

Once he slipped into the outfit, he thought that they looked rather grand standing there as a family and smiled as he thought about asking Ori for a portrait to be drawn up of them so he could send it home to his mother. They weren't going to even touch the topic of telling his parents that they'd found Holm…that was a can of worms that could wait for later. But what was a better way then sending a portrait of their son, grandson, and long lost friend looking incredibly dapper together?

"Would you sit, Bilbo?" Thorin asked softly, putting Frodo back down as he held his hand out to his One, guiding him to sit in the chair in front of the vanity before taking a brush and running it through Bilbo's wavy, golden curls.

Bilbo closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Thorin tending to his hair, messaging his scalp as he did so, and felt as if he could fall asleep as the dwarf's fingers worked a sweet smell into his hair. There was a gentle tugging sensation, pulling his head slightly as Thorin worked with Bilbo's hair, and after he felt the pull on his left and right side, Thorin kissed the crown of Bilbo's head, satisfied with his work.

Opening his eyes, Bilbo saw two braids on either temple. But they were far longer than Bilbo thought possible…

"H-how…Oh! Oh…oh, Thorin!" Bilbo gasped as he ran his fingers across the beautiful braids with the bead of Durin clasping them shut. Plaited into his own golden curls was the obsidian hair of his dwarf, adding to the length of the braids that dangled at his collarbone.

"As a symbol that you are my One, and I am yours…that our bond was forged by Mahal before we so much as took our first breaths…Our lives, our fates, forever intertwined…We cannot be separated." Thorin smiled at Bilbo, the back of his knuckles gracing over his cheeks as he admired the way the braids looked framing Bilbo's soft, square jaw, matching both the king's and the prince's braids.

"…Can….Can I also give you my hair?" Bilbo asked breathlessly, taken aback by the immensity of the gesture as he couldn't stop smiling as he gently touched the braid once more before glancing up at Thorin through the mirror.

"I'd be honored," Thorin said softly, and explained the process, as things for dwarves were never as straight forward as they should be. But the tradition, the meaning behind every step…all of it was so beautiful and precious, and Bilbo was happy to participate.

"You cannot cut your own hair…It must be cut by a member of your family. A sign that they approve of your relationship…" He explained as he gathered the supplies needed.

"So…who cut your hair?" Bilbo asked curiously, knowing he had won over Frerin and Dis equally, and he was beyond relieved that he had. He loved them as family at this point, finding a dear friend in Dis, and a fierce ally in Frerin.

"Both…They took turns removing a small lock of hair, and gave me their blessing," Thorin blushed, grinning proudly and with a full heart.

"So," Bilbo smiled back, adoring the soft smiles that he knew Thorin saved for him and him alone. "I have to trust my son with sheers and my hair? I know you didn't raise him…but it is one of the first things you learn as a parent is to not put those two things together…" Bilbo chuckled playfully, only a little nervous about Frodo cutting his curls.

"Well…you need his permission to be with me first, and then he cuts your hair." Thorin smiled, holding his hand out to Frodo who scampered forward to join his fathers at the vanity, holding onto the back rest of Bilbo's chair as he made funny faces at Bilbo in the mirror who made faces right back.

"How about it, my little prince…do you approve of me and your Adad?" Bilbo asked, turning to face his son with a serious face, prompting Frodo to treat the question with true consideration.

"…Approve you for what?" Frodo whispered into Bilbo's ear, having not actually been paying attention to anything his fathers were talking about, prompting a laugh from them at Frodo's sheepishness.

"Being together…like O'ma and O'pa. To get married someday like them…Once O'pa gives his blessing, of course." Bilbo explained, and the two fathers watched as Frodo's eyes widened with wonder at the notion.

"I'd have…I'd have you both as my fathers, then? Forever? Not just for now?" Frodo gasped happily.

"Of course forever…why'd you ever think it's not forever, lad?" Bilbo asked softly.

"W-well…when…when winter is over and we go back home…Adad will become Mister King Thorin again, and you'll become the Thain again…" He explained, and Bilbo felt his heart ache at the words from his son.

Bilbo and Thorin had been avoiding this conversation, not wanting to dampen the joy of their reunion…not wanting to think about a future apart.

"Even if I am King, and your Papa is Thain, we will always be your fathers, and we will always love each other, and love you…" Thorin promised, his hand completely covering the boy's shoulder when he placed it down, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"Promise?" Frodo asked, holding out his pinky to the king, making him smile as he made another pinky promise to the boy.

"Promise promise. I promised I'd bring your Papa back, and I did that, didn't I? You can trust my word…" He smiled, wrapping his pinky around Frodo's once more, watching how his face lit up again as he smiled and nodded.

"I want you together, then…just like O'ma and O'pa…" Frodo agreed happily.

"Well then…would you do me the honor of cutting some hair for me?" Bilbo smiled, and tried not to look nervous when Frodo's smile turned a little mischievous.

Thorin combed his fingers through the back of Bilbo's locks, and showed their son the process of adding oil to the curls, combing it out, and sectioning off the lock that will be cut, and then stepped aside for Frodo to do it himself.

Frodo gave his father a nod, and stood behind Bilbo once more, repeating exactly what Thorin had done, glancing up at the dwarf to ensure he was doing it correctly, and nervously sectioned the hair, afraid he was going to cut off too much, but Thorin continued nodding, a soft smile on his lips as he watched his son, approving of every step before he moved on.

"Now, before you make the cut, you will say this: I welcome you to weave this hair with your One's, and in doing so, weaving our families together…" He recited in Westron, knowing Frodo had only learned a few words and phrases in Khuzdul during his time under the mountain. Then, Thorin carefully passed the sheers, and smiled fondly at how massive they were in Frodo's hands compared to his own.

Carefully holding Bilbo's hair in his left hand, and the scissors in his right, he took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and copied after his father.

"I welcome you…to weave this hair…with your One's…and in doing so….weaving our families together…" Frodo repeated with more seriousness than Bilbo had ever heard in his son's voice, followed by the unmistakable sound of sheers cutting hair.

Using the mirror to glance at Thorin's face, Bilbo searched for any sign of unease, and let out the breath he was holding when he saw nothing but pride in the dwarf's expression. Thorin then traded the lock of hair for a brush, and had Frodo gently brush his hair out, smoothing and blending his the curls once more, as if no hair had been removed at all.

It was then that Thorin prompted Bilbo to trade spots with him. In silence, Bilbo copied what he'd watched Thorin do many times now, and eagerly accepted Thorin's assistance when weaving his own hair into the braids, finding it rather difficult, but Thorin was patient as his One played with his hair during this sacred rite.

"There…Hardly as nice as yours, mind you…" Bilbo sighed as Thorin opened his eyes to take in the sight of Bilbo's gold hair woven into his own. The king's eyes softened at the amateur braid, and smiled with such love that Bilbo wondered if you could have a heart attack from seeing such a handsome sight, his heart racing as he watched the smile on Thorin's lips grow wide and joyful, crinkling his eyes before he turned to surprise Bilbo with a quick, lovingly chaste kiss.

"They are perfect…I am so, so honored Amrâlimê. Thank you…" He whispered, pressing their foreheads together as they basked in the moment.

"Can…can we go to the party now, fathers?" Frodo asked, a slow grin creeping its way onto his lips as he'd never refereed to them as his 'fathers' in a sentence like that before, and found it quite enjoyable to do so.

"Of course!" Thorin agreed, nodding as he rose from the seat as he took Frodo's hand in his left, and Bilbo's in his right. "We will walk in together. United. A family. Whatever happens, I will protect you…"

"W-will Uncle Dwalin be there too?" Frodo whispered, having seen Dwalin in action before, and trusting him to beat up any one that threatens him or his Papa… His Adad could defeat a dragon, yes…but that was different than fighting a dwarf. "I learned that you cannot defeat a dwarf with riddles like you can dragons…" Frodo pouted, as if he'd tried to do so himself.

"Not only will your Uncle Dwalin be there, he is waiting to walk with us…as is your Uncle Frerin and Aunt Dis and your cousins Fili and Kili…" Thorin chuckled, rolling his eyes at his son's antics. "Shall we go collect them?"

"Yes!" Frodo grinned excitedly, and as they left, began rambling about what sort of braids his Uncle Dwalin could have if he's bald, earning a roar of a laugh from Frerin as he joined their group.

Both he and Dis had similar outfits to their own, the main colors being blue and silver, but both of them had accents of red that matched Bilbo's own, showing their approval and acceptance of the hobbit into their family in their own, subtle way. Fili and Kili wore clothes more similar to Frodo's, apparently a traditional style that meant they were princes.

"Ready?" Dis asked, her voice firm and unwavering as they approached the closed doors, the music and merrymaking audible from where they stood.

"Ready." Thorin nodded, squeezing Bilbo's and Frodo's hands as the doors opened and they stepped into the liveliness of the Yuleblot celebration.

As the herald bowed to the royal family, all eyes turned to the entrance as the dwarf drew in a deep breath before holding a trumpet of sorts to their lips before letting out six notes that filled the hall, silencing everyone and drawing their attention to the entrance as they heard the tune of the royal family.

"All rise for their majesties!" He announced, his bass voice echoing its way through festivities, spurring each in attendance to pause their dancing or eating to welcome the royal family to their celebration.

The party-goers became silent as they bowed…but the silence lasted as long as it took them to realize who stood beside the king…

"His Majesty King Thorin, Second of His Name, called Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain, of Erebor and Durin's Folk, accompanied by His Majesty's son, Prince Derwen, scion to the Thainship of the Shire and Prince of the Lonely Mountain; and His Majesty's betrothed and One, Thain Derwen of the Shire, their bond blessed by Mahal and Yavanna alike…"

The silence seeped into their bones like the cold winds outside the mountain, leaving Bilbo anxious to draw another breath as he felt pins and needles prickling at his lungs as he waited for the unrest.

But before unrest could settle in the room, Thorin and Bilbo were both dragged forward by Frodo as he grinned at the beautifully decorated room and delicious buffet of food for his dwobbit appetite to feast upon.

Bilbo's ears didn't truly hear the herald announcing the rest of the royal family, his deep voice muffled as if underwater as Bilbo held tightly to his son's and Thorin's hand, trying to hide his nerves as they made their way forward along the golden carpet to join the party.

There were muttered growls in Khuzdul, leaving Bilbo unsure if he actually wanted to know what was being hissed…No matter what the words were, he could easily tell they were about him and his son based on how the eyes of the crowd, and the scowl growing deeper on his husband's face.

"Oh would you shut it?" Hissed a voice in Westron, louder than all the grumbling. Bilbo's head jerked toward the voice, looking nervously in the crowd for the one voice he understood. Stepping through the crowd came the young, and dauntless Gimli, son of Gloin, son of Groin, a cousin and proud dwarf who had a tendency to speak up whenever he saw injustice, making his thoughts on it known.

He bowed deeply to Thorin and the rest of the royal family before he faced the crowd. Though Bilbo hadn't had much time with the young dwarf, Frodo adored him and his fiery personality that matched his flaming hair. He was a well known and well respected dwarf in the mountain, not only from his lineage and his father being apart of the company that reclaimed the mountain, but from his own work toward the betterment of this kingdom, gaining a name for himself around the mountain even at his young age.

"Never have I heard a sensible dwarf say such foul things about a Mahal made match! It is a joy, a blessing, and a privilege to find your One. Not only that, but it is a gift for that love to be announced and shared! Your grumblings are like spitting upon Mahal himself, and I am disgusted! You should all feel ashamed of yourselves!" Gimli bellowed, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared disapprovingly at the dissenting dwarves.

"These hobbits traveled across the world simply to feed our people! This celebration would be nothing without their aid! How can you speak of how delicious the food is, and curse them in the same breath? Hypocrites! The lot of you!" He scolded, his words hanging heavy above their heads, but not yet sinking in…

Yet, before anyone could argue with the proud dwarf, Frodo wiggled out of his parent's hold, and ran to Gimli.

"Cousin Gimli! Will…will you dance with me tonight? I learned a new dance and I want to dance it with you!" He blurted out excitedly, and Bilbo wondered if his ability to read the room would ever rub off on his son.

There was silence once more, and Gimli protectively took Frodo's hand in his own, looking around as if to dare anyone to speak an ill word about the hobbits that had saved their mountain, or their bond with the king.

No ill words were spoken…only small chuckles at just how adorable the young prince was, winning their hearts with his earnestly and guile. The laughter, ringing with approval and amusement filled the hall, drowning out any sound of dissent. The band took it as their cue, starting the music up once more, a tune that many dances worked with.

"Aye, I'd love to dance with you, little Cousin." Gimli smiled, and allowed the little dwobbit to lead him forward .

Frodo gave a deep bow, taking the role of lead in the dance by doing so, and causing Gimli to grin brightly, happy to indulge the boy as he gave a shallow bow in response before Frodo took the dwarf's large hands in his own, and spun him around, counting out loud as they danced…and when the time came to switch partners for a moment, the frozen crowd then spurred themselves into action, joining the dance as no soul would leave such a precious pebble waiting for a partner.

Thorin and Bilbo watched out with anxious hearts, their eyes never leaving Frodo as he moved from partner to partner before being deposited back with Gimli as the song came to a close. With his chest heaving from the excitement of it all, Frodo bowed to Gimli, thanking him for the dance before he ran back to his parents.

"Did you see! I didn't trip once!" He smiled up at them, thrilled as he was worried he'd make a mistake. "I did it perfectly! I can teach you, Papa!" Frodo insisted.

"How about you dance with me, little prince?" Dis asked as she scooped up her nephew into her arms. "I am the best dancer in the family, so I deserve to dance with someone who can dance as perfectly as you, yes?" She asked as she held him effortlessly on her hip, making him blush and giggle, as he thought his aunt was the most beautiful person under the mountain, just as his O'ma was the most beautiful under the hill.

As Dis carried Frodo away, dancing happily with him, even if it was just swaying around and passing him between herself and her sons, Thorin and Bilbo let out a breath they'd both been holding, their shoulders slumping forward as they laughed nervously, leaning into one another as their nerves melted.

"Well, my love? Shall we dance?" Thorin asked, giving a deep bow…but not a dwarven bow…a hobbit bow.

Where dwarves crossed their arms over their chests when bowing, hobbits put one hand on their heart, and one hand behind their back, leaning forward gently while holding the other's gaze…

Bilbo's cheeks flushed brightly as he remembered the last time they danced together, the only time they danced together…for hours and hours under the stars…and while the twinkling candles hung above them were reminiscent, he couldn't help but feel that tonight was just as special, if not more. Bilbo bowed in return, and when the next song began, Thorin led Bilbo through all the dances Belladonna and Bungo drilled into his head.

Dances that the dwarf, even fifteen years later, could do in his sleep. While his people danced their own traditional dances, they made room when their king and his One spun around the room, showing the contrast between their ways. Dwarven dances were designed to be small and tight…to be able to dance in secret or in small spaces from their many years in exodus…but hobbit dances were about spreading joy, and filling the space with twirling and stomping feet and clapping hands.

The night carried on, the candles flickering flickering like stars and fireflies, and those were were opposed to their King's One begrudgingly gave up on their animosity and decided to enjoy the party regardless of their feelings on the matter.

When they finally ran out of dances that Thorin knew, as he was only taught so many, Bilbo simply put his hands on the dwarf's waist, enjoying the feeling of just how firm he was beneath his palms, and couldn't hold back a shiver when the dwarf put his hands on Bilbo's hips in return. Thorin had always made it quite clear just how much he enjoyed the feeling of Bilbo's curves beneath his hands, as if they were the perfect place for his hands to land.

As the music played a slower tune, the two simply swayed and spun around, slowly but surely making their way away from the party-goers and towards the outskirts of the dance floor where they simply held one another as they moved side to side.

"This feels familiar, doesn't it?" Bilbo smirked up at his dwarf, enjoying their closeness, and open display of affection. It allowed Bilbo to see his hair woven into Thorin's, and to watch as heat flooded up Thorin's neck and into his cheeks whenever the hobbit said or did something that got the dwarf riled up.

"…Does it? Could you remind me what we did after all the dancing?" Thorin teased, earning a playful pinch to his side from his hobbit as he rolled his eyes.

"We are not doing that in the storage room of the great hall, thank you very much!" Bilbo laughed, as he guided Thorin to the food and thanking the chefs as they filled their bowls and gave them bread, before they sat at the royal table, enjoying the food together, and enjoying the sight of their son still dancing around with his dwarven family, and being taught new dances by new friends, eager to welcome the new prince into their lives.

"So…did it go as you expected?" Bilbo asked Thorin as he soaked his crispy toast in his tomato and basil soup, his eyes never leaving Frodo.

"….I won't lie, Amrâlimê, I don't know what I expected." Thorin sighed, his eyes also on their son, searching for any possible threats to his happiness and feeling very relieved as Dwalin was dancing with him in that moment, warding off any misbehavior from the others dancing, his scowl scaring off many even the bravest of dwarves.

"I had spoken with Balin for quite some time about tonight. About what I wished to do and the many ways it could go. It went far better than many of the possibilities, that is for sure, but it was not the best outcome." He explained, glancing at Bilbo for only a moment before his eyes were back on their son.

"And what, my love, was the best possible outcome?" Bilbo asked, his voice soft and curious as he pressed his knee against Thorin's.

"That we dance our way into a tent filled with extra mead and salad dressing and give Frodo a new sibling," Thorin teased, whispering in Bilbo's ear and feeling the hobbit's temperature rise at his suggestion, earning a squeak and a twitching nose as the hobbit tried to calm himself.

"Oh, that'd be quite the scandal…" He smiled as he stole a quick kiss, not caring who saw.

"I'm not opposed to scandals," He hummed playfully as he took another spoonful of his meal, enjoying the creaminess of his mushroom and onion soup almost as much as he enjoyed making his hobbit flustered and at a loss for words.

After their meal, and after Frodo became far too tired to dance any longer, or even sit between his parents without drifting off, the family took their leave, returning to their royal chambers with Dwalin.

"Prince Frodo, do you want me to read you a bed time story tonight?" The guard asked as he picked up the little, sleepy prince, eyeing his king and giving him a knowing wink.

The boy, though tired, nodded excitedly at the idea of his favorite gruff uncle reading him a night time tale, and hugged his parents goodnight before they parted ways, Frodo and Dwalin going to the room on the left — Bilbo and Frodo's room — while the king and his One went to the room on the right — Thorin's room. Closing and locking the door behind them so neither would be interrupted, the two quickly began undressing the other, removing the many layers of their formal clothes, tossing them lazily to the side before Thorin guided Bilbo to his dresser, opened a drawer…and pulled out two night shirts.

Thorin absolutely loved how precious his One looked in the oversized shirt, finding it incredibly adorable and cute…and it was with those thoughts in his mind that he drifted to sleep with his hobbit held in his arms. The four poster bed was not a tent, and the pitcher of water at Thorin's bedside was not a barrel of mead…the mattress was not grass, and the rafters above were not stars…but they didn't care.

They did not want a perfect repeat of their first night together, which was rushed and frantic and full of overwhelming feelings…

They did not want to wake up needing to go their separate ways, never seeing each other again…

What they wanted was to be together.

And so they were.

Chapter Text

Snow on a mountain was no more grand to Bilbo than snow on a hill, but to Frodo, it was the most amazing scene to behold. Unlike his Ada who was not allowed to leave the mountain during his youngest years, Bilbo was under no such compunction to keep the dwobbit locked away under the stone. The the two Shirelings and the King Under the Mountain were spotted more than a few times having snow ball fights, making snow angels, as well as snow men, which they gave faces to with sticks and stones.

Frodo did not want their time together in the mountain to end, and the thought of voicing it once more to his fathers made him a tad bit nervous. On Yuleblot, when he first brought up the notion of them going their separate ways again, there was such a sadness in his parents' eyes that Frodo decided he'd not speak of it at all, and act as if they would be staying in Erebor forever…

Because if the dwobbit had it his way, they would be.

His plan was going well so far. He would show Bilbo that everything they loved about the Shire could also be found in the mountain halls. He taught his father the dwarven dances he knew, and even had Aunt Dis help. Even though she was a marvelous teacher, it did not keep Bilbo's feet safe from the stomping of steel toed boots, causing him to limp for a week.

Dwarven music was also lively and boisterous like back home, so Frodo begged his Uncles Bofur and Bifur (and Dwalin by default) to take Bilbo to a pub where he could experience the dwarven tunes like he would at the Green Dragon with hobbit jigs. This didn't go as well as Frodo had hoped, even only knowing half the truth. Bilbo explained that they left early because he was so tired, but that the music was indeed a delight to experience…That was, until the squabbles broke out amongst the patrons, rude dwarves shouting nonsense like how the hobbit seduced their king.

While they were shut up quickly, as the number of those opposing Bilbo's relationship with their king was dwindling, Bilbo still felt uneasy. Not wanting to make the fine folk miserable during their time at the tavern, he and his friends left.

"They just don't know you yet!" Bofur tried to explain, patting Bilbo's shoulder, hating seeing such a defeated look on the Thain's face.

"They'll come around in no time!" Bofur quickly added, interpreting for his Bifur once more.

"How about we go to another spot? " Dwalin tried to suggest, their companions nodding eagerly.

With a large, dramatic yawn, Bilbo shook his head and gave a warm, tired smile. "I think I'll pass for tonight…Perhaps another time? I think I must turn in for the evening, lest I need to be carried back." He laughed cheerfully, the smile not reaching his eyes.

"A-alright, then…" They agreed, and said their goodbyes when they parted at the crossroads, Dwalin and Bilbo taking the right towards the royal wing, and Bifur and Bofur heading back to town as the night was still young and they had dwarrow to scold and minds to change.

"I'm so happy you liked the music, Papa! It's very nice, isn't it?" Frodo grinned, proud that his plan was working so very well.

"It was! Thank you for such a lovely suggestion…I will say, we sat a bit too close to the horns though, and my ears are very tired so I'll be heading off to bed now. Uncle Dwalin said he'd read you whichever story you'd like tonight, I know how much you enjoy his voices." Bilbo smiled, kissing Frodo's brow and seeing how pleased he was with himself.

The next attempt to show that the mountain could be just like the Shire was when they went to the market together. Frodo adored going to the market, as everyone always said the nicest things to him. They were right to do so of course, because he knew very well he was the cutest dwobbit ever. He preened at their praises, and looked up at his Adad to show just how happy he was in the mountain.

What Frodo did not notice was the way many shops flat out ignored Bilbo, which was better than the glowering from some others. It was the reason Bilbo insisted to walk behind Frodo and Thorin, standing between them and Dwalin so that his back was protected, and his family didn't see the rudeness thrown at him. It was a rather frustrating thing, his group of critics was dwindling faster than venison hand pies on a Wednesday, yet they were still louder than those who supported him, at least to Bilbo's sharp ears they were.

"Master Thain, sir! I've got something I need to show ye!" One dwarf waved Bilbo down, a bright, cheery smile on his reddened face as his eyes sparkled with mirth at the sight of the royal family making their way through the market.

Bilbo and Dwalin made their way across the street to the dwarf's stall, and took in the sight and smells of his food. He didn't have too much, as rations were kept very rigid for cooks and bakers, but it was clear that this dwarf was doing well with spreading his business's rations.

"Good afternoon!" Bilbo smiled, happy to see such a friendly face directed at him, and gave the dwarf a shallow Shire bow, and the dwarf himself bowed the same in return.

"Aye! Good afternoon, Thain. I've been trying to find a way to speak with you, so I'm so excited to see you here of all places." He smiled warmly as he leaned over his stand to get a better look at Bilbo. "See, I actually lived in the Shire for some time, and I was hoping I could share what I'd dare to call an improvement upon one of the recipes I learned while there!" He beamed, and Bilbo couldn't help but gasp in delight.

"I'd be honored! You lived in the Shire? Where? When?" Bilbo pried, unable to help his brimming curiosity, and the dwarf was more than happy to answer.

"I'm originally from the Blue Mountains, so I lived in the West before the Longbeards found a home with us…My own Adad kicked me out for telling him I wanted to find my mastery in cooking, and well…I was far too proud to stay in the town that wanted me to become another smith…I found my way to Michel Delving, and was pleased to learn it was quite the metropolis! At least at the time…there were more dwarves there a century ago when I lived there. Though there were more of ye hobbits and we dwarves than men, the three of our folks seemed to live in good harmony together. Can't say that for Bree…but Michel Delving? Lovely." He grinned as he told his tale.

"Why, I'm amazed! I'm so happy to hear this Master…Oh, goodness…I've not properly introduced myself!" Bilbo chuckled. "I am Thain Derwen of the Shire. Who have I had the honor of speaking with?"

The dwarf held back his own chuckle, though his smile was still there, and Bilbo wondered if it was stuck from how wide he was smiling. "Lazun, Son of Fazun, Son of Zazun. At your service, Thain Derwen." He spoke as he gave another bow in return. "As one familiar with Michel Delving, tell me…is my old restaurant still open there? I left it about fifty years ago…The Stone Smial?"

"You are the founder of the Stone Smial?" Gasped Bilbo far louder than intended, his eyes wide with excitement as he patted his pockets to see if he could find some lose paper or a pen to take culinary notes, only to pause when Lazun's boisterous laughter bellowed out.

"You know my restaurant then?" He grinned, just as excited as Bilbo as the two talked.

"Oh yes! It's an inn now! Became one…forty-five years ago? I stay there every. Single. Visit. It's not only the finest establishment in town, in my humble opinion, but also has the best lamb in all of the Shire! Well, for an establishment…Missus Chubb has your place beat, but she'd never sell her recipes or food…likes to give it away for free." Bilbo smiled, holding onto the stand as he bobbed up and down on his toes. "Tell me, Master Lazun, they pride themselves on having never changed a recipe, so I must ask! How do you get the side of roasted vegetables to taste as it does?" Bilbo asked, feeling very much like a child again, eager to learn and to speak with such a skilled cook.

The twinkle in Lazun's eyes seemed to grow brighter as he leaned forward to whisper.

"Beef tallow." He giggled, just as thrilled to speak with Bilbo as Bilbo was to speak with him. "It adds a deeper taste than lard would allow and other plant oils do nothing to add to it."

Bilbo's squeals of delight could be heard throughout the market, drawing in many stares, and prompting Thorin to pull their son away from another toy shop to find out what, or who, apparently, was making his One so happy.

"Thorin! Thorin!" Bilbo called to him as he approached, and grabbed Thorin's arm happily, pulling him closer so he could introduce the king to the loyal and clever dwarf. "This is Master Lazun, son of Fazun! He's the original owner of the Stone Smial in Michel Delving!" Bilbo explained, waiting for the spark of recognition to enter Thorin's eyes. The dwarf had visited that town enough to have stayed there, Bilbo was positive. Sure enough, his blue eyes shot open as he turned to face Lazun.

"Well met, Master Lazun! Your recipes are well renowned in the West parts of the Shire! Tell me, why are you selling in a market stall and not working as a chef in the kitchens?" Thorin asked, stunned to see such a skilled chef not having his own kitchen, and only a small stand.

"Well…Y-your majesty…" He bowed quickly, looking nervous. "When I arrived here and I was asked my job, I told them I was a chef…as that is what I am…b-but when they asked my training…and I told them the Shire is where I got my mastery…they denied me the chance to prove my worth…Took me a year to scrape enough coin together to have a stand here." Lazun explained sadly, too nervous to look the king in the eyes.

"…What do you mean? You were denied to work in your craft which you have mastery in, simply because you were taught in the Shire?" Thorin asked, trying to keep his temper even.

He'd done a good job staying calm in the presence of his son and One. He didn't want Bilbo to come to know him as the gruff, brooding and stoic King of Durin's Folk that everyone knew him to be. Though his people cherished him, when he acted as king he was loud and often times angry, often times speaking without thought, and even more often acting without thought, causing more work for Balin and his siblings in the process.

He wanted Bilbo to know him as he did when they met. Holm was gentle at heart and kind. He put others before himself and was a lover more than a fighter. Thorin though…Thorin was a fighter. He won battles through bloodshed and reclaimed lands from dragons and sliced heads off his enemies…

Though he was proud of his deeds as King, he wanted nothing more than for Bilbo to always see him as Holm…

So he bit his tongue as he listened to Lazun's story, and took note to see how many other dwarves might be in a similar situation. The thought that dwarves under his mountain might be denied their right to work their craft simply for this…

"Master Lazun, I, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, invite you to cook my family and company a meal. This includes the head of the Cooking Guild. If Bombur finds your skill to be as worthy as I do, I've no doubt you'd be given a position in his kitchen." Thorin announced, causing the cook's head to whip up in shock at the offer.

"Y-yer majesty?" He gasped, startled and confused, as if he'd not heard him properly.

"Aye?" Thorin smiled softer, arching a thick brow as he crossed his arms. "It is an invitation you are more than able to turn down, should you wish…but know I have high hopes that you won't."

"N-never! I'd never reject such an opportunity! Wh-when should you like your meal?" He asked with hurried excitement, nearly shaking as the realization began sinking in.

"Can you do two days time? Lord Bombur is taking the day off then, and he deserves to have a good meal cooked by one of the best cooks." Thorin smiled kindly, a sight not often seen by those outside his inner most circle.

"Yes! Yes, I certainly can, your majesty!" Lazun nodded, and Thorin took out a small spiral notebook and pencil to scribble a note of it, giving it to Dwalin for Balin.

"You will be picked up from your stall at two in the afternoon and brought to the kitchens. My family eats dinner at five, and supper is at six thirty. I'm looking forward to it." Thorin grinned before clearing his throat and turning his face back to its normal, stoic expression.

"It was so lovely speaking with you Master Lazun! I'd certainly hope you'll cook that recipe you were telling me about! We must get going, but I'm looking forward to speaking with you again another time! Thank you so much, you truly made my day." Bilbo smiled, bowing once more before he took Thorin's outstretched hand, no longer caring or paying any mind to the rude looks and mumblings, as he was far too excited to tell Thorin all they'd talked about.

Needless to say, the dinner and supper were a wild success, and Lazun became a member of the royal kitchen that same night. Bilbo swore his back nearly broke when the dwarf pulled him into a bone crushing hug, but he didn't mind too terribly, as he was thrilled for him, happy to know he could do something for such a talented fellow.

As it turned out, Thorin's prediction had been spot on. Though it was not a large number, it was still a bigger statistic than it ever should have been. With the help of his network, it was soon discovered that of their population of nearly fifty thousand dwarrow, Erebor had roughly one hundred folk who were suffering from 'occupational displacement' according to Balin.

The investigation continued, and when Thorin had enough evidence, during the next counsel meeting, he called upon the Minister of Immigration and the Minister of Foreign Affairs, who both worked closely to help welcome and settle the many displaced dwarrow who wanted to find a home in Erebor.

"You have been deliberately keeping dwarves from their chosen crafts, a sacred gift that we are all given by Mahal himself. What do you have to say for yourselves?" Thorin glared, a mad look in his eyes as he called them forth.

"Your majesty! I have no idea what you're talking about, truly!" Witlen son of Mitlen, the Minister of Immigration insisted.

Thorin didn't budge, and took the paper Balin had written their crimes upon and read it aloud, feeling that sick pleasure he always felt whenever he saw justice be brought upon those who deserved it. Their faces paled and they begged to be spared whatever punishment the king wished for them, telling him that they were only keeping these dwarves back for the sake of their kingdom…

"Did you even know that of this group of hundred dwarves, we have two master farmers? Masters of the earth and soil?" Thorin growled, his booming voice echoing like thunder as he shouted at the trembling, pathetic dwarves before him. His chest heaved as he breathed in heavy, quick breaths, furious. "These are two skilled dwarves who could have saved our people when they first arrived in this mountain seven years ago! Your prejudice and discrimination has hindered our people's ability to thrive, and for such an injustice, you are being stripped of your position, and sentenced to fifteen years of servitude to right the wrongs and damage you have brought upon Erebor and her people."

Bilbo, who had a spectator seat, as this was an open counsel meeting, sat beside other members of the company, and let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. His body trembled against his will, having never seen Thorin so livid. The way his eyes looked mad with rage, and how his voice shook the very stone itself…Bilbo had never felt scared of Thorin, and always wondered if the tales of his infamous anger were all a joke…

He saw now that they were not.

Thorin looked like a wild predator staring at his prey, and could see the near-smirk on his lips as he sentenced the dwarves for their misdeeds…it made Bilbo's blood go cold. This was not the dwarf he knew…and it scared him. He didn't disagree that the dwarves deserved what they were served, and he was excited to see how the mountain would change now, eager to work along side these two farmers. One had trained in Gondor, the other in the East, and Bilbo was excited to learn all he could on the terrace farming and grain growing.

But his thrill and thirst for knowledge didn't dilute his unease at seeing his love in such an agressive state. He realized that this must be why Dwalin and Balin insisted Bilbo not attend any of the open counsel sessions, as they cared deeply for the hobbit at this point…and they knew their king too well.

As the guards took away the two dwarves, cuffing them and leading them to their new stay in the redress ward, Bilbo couldn't pull his eyes away from Thorin, who's anger seemed to boil so hot within him that even Dwalin took a step back from the heat.

Suddenly, his blue eyes turned up to the crowd, as if sensing Bilbo's presence, and their eyes became fixed upon one another. The anger froze within the king, looking panicked at the sight of his One witnessing his rage and power, unable to turn away from him. Instead, Bofur and Dori guided Bilbo from the seats, and took him back to his chambers where they assured Bilbo that Thorin wasn't always like that.

"Sometimes he's just a little more angry than normal…" Bofur tried to explain.

"Than normal? What is his normal then? The…the Thorin I know is…is not angry at all! He is…he is kind and gentle…" Bilbo explained, wringing his fingers together as he paced across the intricate rug before his hearth.

"I've never known the man to not have some anger in his blood…" Bofur explained, and Dori nodded.

"When he's in his smithy, he's a different man all together…but as King? He is fire and brimstone personified. Hot coals and iron. It's how we reclaimed out kingdom-"

"He killed a dragon with riddles!" Bilbo argued, cutting the white haired dwarf off.

"He killed a dragon with a black arrow…" Dori corrected softly, understanding how much of a shock this must be to the little hobbit who had only ever seen Thorin as a cuddly bear and not a dangerous beast.

"He sings and dances and drinks and has fun! He isn't…he isn't always like this…please tell me he isn't always like this…" Bilbo begged, trembling as the idea of being near such animosity from his own love, even if not directed at him, made him feel nearly sick. He'd faced enough of it from his opposition while in the mountain, he could not cope with it from his betrothed.

"He-"

The knock at the door startled them all into silence as they slowly turned to the door, as if ready to face the knocking that wrought doom upon Moria.

Instead of another knock, or the ash and smoke of Durin's Bane came the nervous, yet gentle voice of the king.

"Bilbo?" He called softly from outside the door, just loud enough to be heard without opening it.

With a deep breath, Bilbo cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and walked forward. It mattered not what Thorin was normally like…for Bilbo was the Thain and had worked hard to stand up to the things that scared him…be it nosy relatives who gave him grief, orcs who wanted to eat him, or rude dwarves who wanted him gone. He would face Thorin, the love of his life—this one and the next.

He'd not cower before this sides of Thorin which he had yet to see.

Opening the door, Bilbo saw the king standing there, hunched forward and trembling trembling. He looked surprised to see Bilbo at the door, opening it up to him and escorting him inside whilst gesturing for the others to leave.

"Holler if you need us, Bilbo." Dori insisted quietly as they stepped out, giving the couple privacy, knowing Bilbo was safe from Thorin's wrath, as the king would never direct it at his One…

Bilbo gestured for Thorin to sit in front of the fireplace, and sat beside him, though kept room between them as they waited awkwardly for the other to speak first.

"I…I'm sorry you had to see that…" Thorin muttered, staring at the fire as it danced along the logs, his hands clasped in his lap while his thumbs twiddled as his leg bounced nervously.

"It…it's okay-"

"Don't say that…it's not. I saw how scared you were..how scared you still are…I…" He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and turned to face Bilbo, though kept his hands to himself despite his longing to hold the hobbits hands. "I never wanted you to see that…to see me when I'm angry…" He confessed.

"So you were content with hiding a part of yourself from me?" Bilbo asked, raising an unamused eyebrow, unsure which upset him more.

"If it meant you'd never be scared of me…then I'd hide whatever I needed to from you…" Thorin admitted guiltily, knowing it was wrong of him to hide anything from his One.

"Thorin Oakenshield, if we are to be married, then I expect to know every aspect of you. Even the scary ones…You are…you are always so gentle and tender and sweet…I always thought the company were lying or joking when they made mention of your…righteous anger. I see now that they were not…" Bilbo sighed.

"I am sorry…I…I try. I try to keep it back…But sometimes…things happen that are so…so upsetting. I try and I fail to hold back my fury…It scares me too…" He confessed, looking down at his hands now, only for Thorin's chin to be cupped in Bilbo's hands and tilted up.

"Your anger is not misplaced…A-and as terrifying as it made me…It…I was happy to know it was directed at those who have done such wrong. I've never heard a tale of your rage hurting someone who did not deserve it. Be it a dragon, or a dwarf…" Bilbo spoke calmly, though Thorin could hear the tremble in his words jut as he could feel the tremor in his hands.

"I do not deserve you." Thorin sighed finally, closing his eyes as his hand met Bilbo's, and he leaned into the hobbit's touch.

"Love is not about deserving or not deserving…I do not think at least." Bilbo smiled softly, practically feeling the heat of Thorin's anger rolling off of him like steam, evaporating and releasing the king from its clutches.

Yet there was still something that remained in the air, in Bilbo's trembling bones, and in Thorin's pounding heart even after the anger and fear subsided. The adrenaline of it all still thrummed through them, urging them to be active and to do something.

"I'd normally go spar with Dwalin…at this point. When my body still feels angry even when I do not…" Thorin admitted, and Bilbo could feel the dwarf's pulse still keeping its quick pace.

"Then spar with me."

"I'm sorry, what?" Thorin blinked, unable to do much else other than sit there confused at his words.

"Fight me." Bilbo said again, firmly and unwavering as he held Thorin's perplexed gaze.

"I am not fighting you." Thorin snorted.

"Y-you've hidden this side from me…This raw anger and power that you keep bundled away…Y-you're not the only one who's hiding their anger, Thorin!" Bilbo might as well have been growling as he rose from his seat, and held out his hand to Thorin, inviting him. "If…if you want us to be together, then we will be together in our entirety. Not in parts."

Thorin's breath shuddered as he took a sharp inhale in, taking in the ferocious and determined expression on his One, having never seen him so…strong.

"Fight me." Bilbo demanded once more.

Fifteen years. Though much had changed in that time…he'd grown tired and distant in some ways, his missing the Shire having dampened his very soul. He'd become more aggressive and cold too, even when unprompted he would feel the urge to lash out, as if his body were demanding he do something.

He had changed in many ways he didn't like…but one thing remained the same.

"I could never deny you anything, Amrâlimê…" Thorin breathed out, taking his hobbit's hand, and letting him guide him silently to the training hall, Dwalin at their heels as he had waited for Thorin outside of the room after the counsel meeting.

The seasoned warrior kicked anyone still in the training hall out, closing it off for for royal purposes. They'd done it plenty of times in the past when Dwalin and Thorin wanted to work out their frustrations or stretch their limbs after long days of meetings…they didn't know that the little hobbit beside them was going to be the one fighting the king.

The doors closed, leaving the three of them alone.

Dwalin, who had seen Bilbo fight against Fili knew that the hobbit would be able to hold his own for at least a minute before the king's strength won out. Fili was a good, young fighter…but Thorin had fought and won battles beyond Bilbo's comprehension…there was a stark difference between the two, and Dwalin was rather giddy to watch it play out.

Dwalin took Bilbo aside, grabbing him some youth's training clothes and leather armor for the hobbit to fight in, while Thorin grabbed his own elsewhere. The bald dwarf explained how it would go…This wasn't a spar like it was with Fili…there were no rounds to win or points to get…simply fight and burn off steam. As he buckled and laced the hobbit into the smallest armor they had, as even pebbles were thicker and stockier than the hobbit it would seem, he smiled.

It took a second for Dwalin to get Bilbo an appropriate training sword, as even if he knew Thorin would win, he'd not let his king get a single scratch from the hobbit, lest he want to start a new wave of anti-hobbit sentiment in the mountain. Testing the weight and feel of it in his hand, Bilbo finally found one that was most like his elven blade, and entered the arena to find Thorin dressed much the same as him.

Thorin's cheeks flushed pink at the sight of Bilbo dressed in training gear, finding it incredibly attractive, more than he'd care to admit, quite honestly. The way the armor fit his body, protecting him from injury while showing off his figure in a way that made Thorin lick his lips absentmindedly.

"Don't go easy on me, Thorin." Bilbo spoke as he approached his love, holding out his hand to shake it before they both settled into their positions and readied their stances.

"I don't want to hurt you, Bilbo…" The king sighed heavily, but even as he spoke he saw how the hobbit held himself. How his stance was strong and firm from training over the years that Thorin had missed…

"Be quiet and fight me!" Bilbo glared, having never been one to feel comfortable with people looking at him like he was fragile. He had worked long and hard to be able to defend himself, and he was good at it.

Dwalin called for the fight to start, and faster than Thorin could process, Bilbo moved. He was quick and agile as he dashed at Thorin who quickly read the hobbit's posture. The way the hobbit's arms held the sword down at his right as he came at Thorin head on told the king he was going to go for an upward and diagonal strike to the king's left side, at his ribs most likely, and so Thorin side stepped, and moved to parry his own blade against it, feeling a surprising amount of pressure from Bilbo's sword as they clashed.

Dwarves weren't fast…but hobbits were, and Bilbo's movements seemed to use the momentum of Thorin's push back to his own advantage, using it to power his next swing or his next step as he continued pressing Thorin. Their grunts and shouts as they fought echoed around the circular arena, empty and devoid of an audience, allowing both of them to let lose without the fear of other's judgment.

For Bilbo, he was tired of worrying about the snide comments and rude remarks about his very existence in and outside of the mountain…and for Thorin, he always had to worry about ever coming across as weak. While he could lose in a fight, he couldn't be weak. He was always forced to be strong…stronger than he ever wanted to be.

Finally, Thorin saw an opening and swung.

Right as he began to regret the action, seeing how much force was hurtling towards his One's side, Bilbo vanished. Looking down, the hobbit had dodged the blow by simply falling into the splits effortlessly, stunning Thorin for the second Bilbo needed to make his next move. Like a whirlwind, Bilbo spun himself in such a way on the ground that he managed to hook his leg over Thorin's bent knee with a bruising kick, the hobbit's heel digging into the king's inner thigh as he reached up and grabbed a hold of the dwarf's shoulder, and pulling him onto his back with a loud thud and a silent gasp for air as the wind was knocked from the king's lungs.

Bilbo panted heavily, his chest heaving inside the confines of the leather armor as he knelt on one leg, with the other pinning the dwarf down. Sweat cascaded down Bilbo's face, the only skin Thorin could see clearly at the moment, watching in a daze as the droplets of perspiration trail down his hobbit's jaw and neck, disappearing under his shirt. Swallowing thickly, Thorin used one hand to disarm Bilbo, tossing his own weapon aside in the process before holding grabbing his wrists and rolling them so that Bilbo was on his back with the king pressing him into the dirt floor of the arena.

"Give up yet?" Thorin asked as the hobbit somehow managed to squirm out of his tight hold…only to trip over his own feet and fall forward. Thorin pounced, straddling the hobbit and pinning him once more, holding his wrists behind his back as he sat on the back of Bilbo's thighs.

"Never!" Bilbo rasped out, his voice laced with the same need that Thorin had felt simmering under his skin, his face flushed from more than just the exertion from the fight.

Swallowing hard once more, Thorin cleared his throat and readjusted his hold on the hobbit, sliding hip from his thighs to his ass and pressing his hips forward, showing Bilbo his need.

His intent.

He loosened his grip on the hobbit's wrists just enough so he could leave if he wanted…But he stayed still and silent. As did Thorin. Bilbo's body was far from rigid, nor was it tense or trembling in fear…and his expression was just as wanting and needy as Thorin's own.

The hobbit bit his lip, and gave a small nod of the head before closing his eyes and pressing his ass up against the hardness between Thorin's legs. Grabbing the hobbit's wrists in one hand, Thorin used the other to untie the hobbit from his trousers, pulling them down enough to reveal the hobbit's round, supple cheeks, red and already bruising from some of the falls and hits he'd taken.

"Dwalin! Leave us!" Thorin shouted, not looking back at where his guard stood, enjoying the fight.

"Aye, aye…" He chuckled out, and Thorin didn't wait for his guard to be gone before he started pulling his own desperate cock from his pants, smearing Bilbo's thighs with his precum as it leaked from his tip.

"Do you ha-have oil?" Bilbo asked hopefully, and Thorin grunted out a frustrated sound, keying Bilbo to the fact that most likely meant they did not have oil.

"It won't keep me from fucking your thighs, though…now will it, Bilbo?" Thorin asked as he gripped his cock, pumping it in his sweaty fist as he released Bilbo and gave his cheeks a bruising squeeze, groping and watching the supple flesh bend in under his fingers, drawing out a long whine of need from the hobbit.

"Do you like that?" Thorin asked roughly before using his cock to slap at the hobbit's rear, then rubbing it between his crack and teasingly poking the slicked, blunt head at Bilbo's tight opening, biting his bottom lip at how he nearly came from the mewl that escaped Bilbo's lips.

"I love it!" Bilbo whined desperately as he writhed on the ground beneath Thorin.

Thorin let out a shuddering sigh of appreciation when he pulled back and laid his cock over Bilbo's ass, enjoying seeing how deep he'd be inside the hobbit if he were nestled within him now…his tip smearing more of his desperation on Bilbo's cheeks and the curve of his lower back.

"I could be so deep in you…Ravaging you…" He whispered as he thrusted forward, enjoying the sight of his cock's length nestled between Bilbo's cheeks, sliding up and down the seam of his delicious ass.

"Please!" Bilbo begged, his own need much the same as Thorin's…the adrenaline of their fight yet to fade away. "I want…I need you inside me!" Bilbo cried out, gasping as if he couldn't breathe without Thorin filling him.

Thorin opened his mouth, and began sucking on his middle finger, wetting it and making it slick with his spit before he spread Bilbo's cheeks apart with one hand, revealing the fluttering hole where Thorin yearned to shove his cock. Instead, he pressed the tip of his finger against the ring of muscle, and roughly shoved it in to the first knuckle. Going slowly, he had enough sense to continue focusing on Bilbo's comfort, but Bilbo was always full of surprises.

"Faster! Thorin! I don't care! M-make it hurt, I don't care! Just get. In. Me." He sobbed, and Thorin gritted his teeth hard as he obliged, pushing out a gasp from Bilbo as he began fingering his ass, rough and at an unrelenting pace while he fisted at his aching member as Bilbo sobbed needily for Thorin to keep going…

"Don't hold back…P-please! H-harder, Thorin!" Bilbo begged, a whimpering mess on the ground beneath the king as his finger became a blur of motion, bruising the poor hobbit's behind till he came pitifully on the dirt beneath them. The king quickly spilled his seed into dip of the hobbit's back, grunting and moaning as he tugged himself without mercy, and only pulled his finger back from the hobbit when he felt the hobbit's body contracting in such a way that Thorin knew he had had enough.

Thorin rose to his shaking legs, admiring the puddle of his seed on Bilbo as he fastened his pants once more, tucking his limp prick away as he went to go grab a towel to clean his well-worked lover. Tenderly, he wiped the gentle cloth down the hobbit's back, making Bilbo squirm as the felt the once hot, thick liquid grow cold, his skin feeling sticky even after the come was cleaned. As if to silently say he was done, he playfully slapped at Bilbo's ass, keeping the touch soft enough to not hurt, but hard enough for the sound to please both of them, and to watch the bruised flesh ripple from the king's touch.

Bilbo moved drowsily to pull his pants back up as well, fastening them and wobbling as he got up to stand beside Thorin, swaying and trembling as his body still felt the effects of how hard Thorin pounded his finger into him, and how hard he came from the delicious assault.

"Good fight…" Bilbo panted, leaning against Thorin breathlessly, who laughed, loud and happily as he pulled Bilbo into his arms, kissing playfully at his the hobbit's smiling face.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that? With the sword…not your ass." Thorin asked breathlessly as they finally made their way out of the training hall, earning a smack from the hobbit. As he held Bilbo around the waist, helping him as he limped by the proud king's side, he smiled happily, still trying to catch their breath as they ignored the way Dwalin eyed them.

"Did I not tell you that I started an army? I had the rangers and elves of Rivendell come help train us…" Bilbo said casually, waving his hand as if it was not something impressive in the slightest. Just another tuesday.

"You started an army?" Thorin balked at the words, and Bilbo laughed at the look of dumb and silly surprise on his love's face.

"I've gotten a lot done in fifteen years, thank you very much…" Bilbo smirked proudly, and Thorin knew he'd never grow tired of discovering every single fascet of his One.

As approval of Bilbo spread across the mountain, the slowly started to melt…and Bilbo missed his home. More often than not, Thorin could find Bilbo out on the balcony, huddled in many blankets as he basked in the sun like a flower. It was no surprise that when the blanket of white had finally been pulled back completely, and the threat of frost was hardly a thought in their minds, that Bilbo was found outside for hours a day working in the fields.

He'd grown close with the two dwarven farmers and they left no doubt in Bilbo's heart that if he were to return to the shower right now, that they would keep the mountain alive. Yet Bilbo lingered, his son loving the mountain…loving being beside the grand and mighty Thorin Oakenshield, his hero and father. Yet, Bilbo's heart's conflict continued to fester within him, became restless.

In the days he worked himself to exhaustion, taking only a few hours of time to recover from farming before he dragged Thorin off to bed, and having the dwarf fucking him well and good into the mattress, as if needing Thorin to carve his very touch into the hobbit so that when they parted once again, Bilbo wouldn't forget.

Not that he had in fifteen years before now, and not that he would in fifteen more…but he needed to feel the dwarf on him and in him, and Thorin didn't mind in the slightest, his own anxieties on the matter, unspoken like Bilbo's own, compelling Thorin to work harder in the mountain during the day, carrying his son on his hip when Frodo wasn't in the fields with Bilbo…and then returning to his lover when the sun fell, and marking him in any way the hobbit would allow or asked for.

It was in late march that a pigeon arrived at the mountain, being guided through the stone halls by a raven, which was certainly a sight to behold indeed. Bilbo was happy to see one of his beloved birds, kissing it's beady eyed head as thanks for bringing him a letter from home.

"Is everything alright, Amrâlimê?" Thorin asked, entering Bilbo's chambers to find him sitting on the rug in front of the hearth, holding the letter in his hands.

"…Fortinbras is asking when I'll return home…" Bilbo said weakly, his eyes never leaving the fire.

"I see…" Thorin muttered after the words sank in. "A-and…what do you say to that?" He asked his hobbit, taking off his boots before sitting beside him, warming his sock-covered feet by the fire.

"I…Don't know…I don't know, Thorin…I need to go home…I feel spread thin…like butter over too much bread…I miss the hills and my parents…I miss my duties and my people…But Frodo is so happy here! A-and…I can't…I can't dare to part from you again…" Bilbo sniffled, neither of them turning their faces from the fire, as if they'd find the answers in the flames.

"Bilbo…" Thorin sighed, scooting closer, and wrapping an arm around his hobbit who leaned in closer, letting his tears fall silently as his head rested on the dwarf's shoulder.

"Papa! Adad!" Frodo called to them as he was dropped off, excited and running to them, joining them as Thorin pulled their son into his lap, giving him a hug and a beard rub before he told his fathers of his adventures for the day…only for his bottom lip to start sobbing and his eyes to start watering as he looked to Frodo.

"B-but Gimli doesn't know how to play that game! B-but Sam knows that game…a-and I…Papa, I miss Sam! I miss Sam very much! It hurts that he's so far away!" The boy blubbered as he fell into Bilbo's arms, moving from one father's lap to the other's.

"Oh my boy…I'm sure Sam misses you just as much!" Bilbo comforted, only for his words to bring another wave of sniffles and sobs.

"B-but that means he's sad! I don't want Sam to be sad! Papa…w-when are we going home?" He asked, his bright blue eyes pleaded with Bilbo as he leaned into his papa.

"…We'll be going soon…I promise…" Bilbo sighed sadly, nuzzling his son who cried himself to sleep, his father's petting his hair and rubbing his back as he let it out.

It wasn't much longer after that night by the fire that Bilbo and Frodo were packed and ready to go. Thorin had insisted on one more night in the mountain where he could show his honor to his One and their son with a celebration before they left for home, not knowing when the hobbits would visit next.

The fact that the Shirelings were leaving caused a stir in the mountain…

How could Bilbo dare take the King's son away after all this time?

How could the king stay betrothed to someone when he doesn't even know when they'd next be together?

But the King and the Thain decided to keep the same childlike confidence as their son, and just trust that it would all work out in the end.

Bilbo and Frodo wore new outfits made by Ori, in the same colors as their Yuleblot attire, but in a different fashion for the change of season. Bilbo and Frerin shared three dances back to back, and the prince was filled with more energy tonight than Bilbo could keep up with. Where he found such energy, Bilbo had no idea.

The prince had worked himself ragged ever since he and Frodo arrived but still managed to spin him, and Frodo, and Dis around all night. During their second dance, the Bilbo couldn't help but ask, his curiosity getting the better of him, and he smiled as Frerin confessed that it was about time he started acting his age, and even more so, it felt good to do.

"The way Thorin looks all the time, I thought his duties were miserable! But the times were I've been his substitute during this last year…it's been wonderful. I've never felt like I was supposed to do something, more than I have when working for my people…I guess Thorin is simply a grump through and through…Tell me, my dearest brother-in-law-to-be…" Frerin teased as he spun Bilbo to the music. "Did he ever smile when he worked in the Shire?" He asked, and Bilbo snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I never saw him work…but my parents always spoke of how no one so big and burly had a right to look as calm and peaceful as Holm…as Thorin did in his smithy. He especially loved his house calls where he'd go fix things for those who couldn't bring it to him…but according to everyone I've always spoken to, Thorin always had a smile on his face. Perhaps it's just that you make him grumpy, oh dearest brother-in-law-to-be?" Bilbo teased right back as they swung each other around by the elbow.

"Well…" Frerin grinned sheepishly, his eyes darting around the room…nervously almost.

"Is everything alright, Frerin?" Bilbo asked, his voice lowering softly as he too looked around "Where's Frodo?" He asked, paranoia sinking in before he quickly caught sight of his son dancing with the best dancer under the mountain, and giggling happily as he he did so.

"Y-yes, everything is fine…Just wondering where your dunderhead of a One is…" Frerin snorted as the two of them turned around slowly to the music, stepping with each down beat, and Frerin was pleased with at how quickly Bilbo had learned all of these dances, as they weren't the easiest part of dwarven culture to learn, but certainly weren't the hardest.

When the music came to a stop, Frerin smiled and gave Bilbo an unexpectedly warm and gentle hug, calm and not filled with any playfulness like Bilbo had grown accustomed to. When the six notes of the line of Durin played on the horn, Frerin grinned a lopsided, nervous grin, and gave a bow, excusing himself.

"That' my cue," He said as he waved goodbye and weaved through the crowd out of sight.

Dis then grabbed Bilbo's arm and pulled him close to her and the rest of the family, as Thorin took to the top of the stairs, looking regal as ever, and making Bilbo's heart pound at just how beautiful he was.

"My people!" Thorin called out, his voice capturing the attention of all as it rang through the hall. "We are here today not just to celebrate our lands revival, and to thank our guests for their tireless aid…but to wish they farewell and safe travels as they return to the Shire." He spoke a little softer, his eyes gazing upon Bilbo's and Frodo's now before drifting back to the sea of dwarves staring at him with loyalty and love.

"For ten years we have lived in our home Under the Mountain…and I have been proud to have been your king through it's reclamation and rebuilding. I have watched as broken pillars were rebuilt, as if we were reestablishing the very foundation of not only our mountain, but of what it means for us to live within these halls. Yet…year by year I have grown weary." He sighed, the pride not quite leaving his voice even if it left his eyes, causing him to look tired and melancholic.

"I have become a king who, though I love my people and my home with all my heart…I find that my heart is not in it. My heart is, and has always been with, my One." Thorin's melancholic smile faded to a poignant one, his eyes brimming with joy and love and adoration for the family he longed to build and nourish with Bilbo. "I have been unable to perform my duties as King without feeling as if I have lost myself in the process…and now that my One has returned to me with our son…I have realized I cannot continue ruling my people as they deserve…

"I have fought for this mountain with my own blood and tears, and I have earned my name amongst our folk…and with the guidance of our Maker, I have come to terms that I cannot continue this way. I must be selfish…Today before you all, I am abdicating the crown." Thorin announced, and as Bilbo's eyes widened in confusion and bewilderment, his heart thudding in his chest at a painfully quick rate, Frerin was escorted forward by Balin.

Bilbo could hardly hear a lick of what was spoken next, as the gasps and mutterings around him and mixed with the ringing in his ears and pounding of his blood rushing through him…He felt as if he must be dreaming…Something so impossible as this could never happen…not truly…

"—Now comes the days of the King…May they be blessed." Thorin spoke clearly and with so much love for his brother as Bilbo watched him remove the Raven Crown from his head, and placed it upon Frerin's own before pressing a kiss to his little brother's brow.

There was silence, and even Dis had tensed beside them, her cheerful eyes seeing to dim as she became ready for the worst…only for Frerin to pull Thorin into a bone crushing hug, filling the hall with laughter and cheer which spread quickly.

Frerin was known for his love for his people and his devotion to them. He was a member of the company that reclaimed Erebor, and had worked tirlessly by his brother's side since even before he was of age to do so. The choice was well recieved, even if the kingdom would miss Thorin's presence, they would come to know they were in good hands under King Frerin's rule.

Thorin let go of his brother after giving him one last squeeze on the shoulder, smiling proudly at him before he ran down the steps to his family, scooping up Frodo and Bilbo into his arms and spinning them around as if they weighed nothing to him.

"Thorin! You…you oaf! What are you thinking! You…you can't give this up for me!" Bilbo gasped, his beratement of the now former king losing any bite as he kissed his face wherever his lips could land.

"I'm not. I'm doing it for me. I…I know we would make this work somehow, even through the distance…but I didn't want that. I wanted you. I wanted us…" Thorin smiled warmly, kissing Bilbo so sweetly, their lips fitting perfectly together.

"I want to go home…"

Chapter Text

And thus it was, that the reign of Thorin Oakenshield, though he would go down in history as one of the greatest kings of the dwarves, was ended. It had been nearly sixteen years since the dwarf had left the Shire that he found himself looking upon a familiar site.

As the hobbit, dwobbit, and dwarf made their way through the Hobbiton market by the water, Thorin couldn't help but stand in front of his old smithy while his son and One stopped to grab some snacks to munch on as they made their way to the Hill. Before that, they had stopped at Missus Boffin's flower shop to purchase the largest blessing bouquet she had ever sold in all her years as a florist.

"You're going to need more than a few peonies to get Master Baggins's blessing!" Missus Boffin practically guffawed at the dwarf standing at her counter.

Taken aback by how blunt she was, Thorin simply blinked down at her, his cheeks flushing pink as she stared at him incredulously. "P-pardon me?" He asked, his voice a little high and squeaky as he swallowed his nerves.

"You heard me, Master Dwarf." She nodded firmly, crossing her arms. "I'm not trying to strong arm you into buying more…I'm trying to tell you that if you expect Bungo Baggins to just hand over his son to you, the Thain of all people, you're sadly mistaken." She snorted, getting back work as if expecting Thorin to give up on on the idea.

This Missus Boffin was not the one Thorin knew when he worked as the blacksmith across the street. This was that Missus Boffin's cousin-in-law from Willowbottom, Daisy Boffin nee Clayhanger. She had only come to hobbiton seven years prior when she married Mister Dismond Boffin and took over the shop from the original Missus Boffin who had a soft spot for Holm, and would always help him when trying to buy flowers for different occasions, as she found his ineptitude for flowers endearing.

Missus Daisy Boffin didn't seem to hold the same inclination for the random dwarf that just popped up in her shop.

"Our Thain deserves the best, and I can tell you now that," Daisy gave him a quick, appreciative once over— which turned into a twice over— and smirked smugly at him. "Though you look handsome enough, he deserves more than strong arms and pretty hair. Tell me, do you think you could make a suitable father for his boy? Our Little Twig has done quite well with just his Papa and his grandparents…I'm unsure that Master Baggins would ever allow anyone to step into that role, especially a random dwarf." She explained as she leaned on her arms, shaking her head almost disapprovingly at Thorin.

Now, Thorin was more than aware that his One was beloved by his people…why wouldn't he be? He was beautiful, and smart, and clever, and brave…all incredibly admirable qualities that any citizen would want from their leader, but to know he had so much support that his people would flat out reject the notion of Thorin being worthy for him without knowing Thorin irked him terribly.

"The last one who tried to win Master Baggins's blessing bought my entire supply of violets, but was kicked out of Bag End before the lad could even give his name," She tacked on, causing Thorin's knees to buckle at the thought that others had tried to win Bilbo in his absence.

"H-how many people have tried to ask Bungo for his blessing?" Thorin asked through his teeth, gripping the counter as he tried to remain calm, his sense of possessiveness leeching out of him.

With another snort, as if she were some pony herself, she answered. "In my time owning the shop I'd say he's had at least…twenty? Thirty? Our Thain is very popular, I'll have you know. And you're not the first dwarf to ask for his hand either! Some merchant from Michel Delving fell head over hills for him…he didn't even reach Bag End before their guard dog sent him away telling him not to bother." She laughed at the memory as she got back to pruning and feeding flowers.

"A dwarf? Wait, guard dog?" Thorin stammered, his heart aching in his chest as he heard of how many had tried for Bilbo.

"Mhmm…those Gamgee's, they're fiercer than Farmer Maggot's Grip, Fang, and Wolf combined, that's the truth. So, if you don't want his little ankle biters to chew you to bits before you even get to Bag End's gate, I'd give up while you're ahead." She sighed with a small smile on her lips as she gave the dwarf another look over, as if wondering if Thorin might have a chance from looks alone.

"What? Why? Why would…I'm…I don't…what?" Thorin blinked a little faster, unable to wrap his mind around this, and wondered if Bilbo had any idea of this, seeing as he never mentioned this to Thorin.

"Rumor has it that they're all waiting for the Little Twig's sire to come back…but what's the likeliness of that actually happening? He's been gone since before the boy was born! I say, let the Thain find someone who can make him and the boy happy…" She explained, only for her shop's door to open, ringing the bell to alert her to a customer.

"Good morn- Oh! Speak of rain and it'll pour!" She grinned, bending over the counter to smile as Frodo walked up to the counter. "Good morning, Little Twig! How was your trip to the mountain with your Papa?" She asked, only for her eyes to widen as Frodo tugged on Thorin's hand, prompting him to pick up the dwobbit, helping him to sit on the counter to say hello.

"It was very fun, Missus Boffin! We fought orcs, and ate so much soup! And then on the way home we stayed with a man who turns into a bear, and even met giant eagles!" He giggled excitedly as he recounted his favorite parts of his adventure.

"My goodness that does seem like quite the story!" She gasped, praying that these were all just childish stories he made up from his travels.

"It was! Oh! Missus Boffin! Meet my Adad! Thorin Oakenshield! King of all the dwarves!" He announced proudly, holding his arms out as if he were Bilbo showing off his prized tomatoes during the Hobbiton harvest festival.

"I told you, I abdicated," Thorin quickly corrected, ruffling Frodo's hair as he rolled his eyes. "And it wasn't of all dwarves. Just Durin's Folk." He smiled, enjoying the way Missus Boffin's face went through many different emotions all at once. "But I am back now, and will be Missus Boffin's work neighbor, seeing as I'll be working in the smithy again."

"Is it like your workshop in Erebor?" Frodo asked curiously, his bright blue eyes wide, and Daisy could clearly see the familial relation between the boy and the dwarf.

"Not quite. When I get back to work I'll bring you with me to watch sometime, how about that?" He offered, and his son nodded enthusiastically, not noticing how the florist began collecting lilies, daisies, peonies, violets, ivy, and bell flower, not skimping out on the selection as she made the largest bouquet, clearing out much of her supply.

"Oh! I forgot! Papa wants to know if you want a snack? He stopped for some hand pies…said he wanted to try the spicy ones, but I don't like spicy food…do you?" Frodo asked as they left the florist, the sheer size of his bouquet drawing attention to them from market goers.

"I do, actually, and I am hungry…" He said with thought, nodding as Frodo let go of his hand. "Take some coin and go buy some extra peace offerings for your grandparents, alright?" He chuckled, glad his son couldn't see how nervous he was, and watched as Frodo scampered away to Bilbo's side with a pouch of coins jingling in his hands.

He took the moment alone to stand in front of his old smithy, enjoying how it looked exactly as it did the day he left, though he was sure plenty dust must have accumulated inside over the years, and he was not looking forward to all the sneezing he'd be doing when he cleaned it up.

"You!" Came a familiar voice through the bustle of the market, though it was distorted with a fury that Thorin had never heard before.

"Bungo!" He gasped, turning to where he heard the sound, his clear blue eyes landing upon his friend, smiling excitedly as he made a move towards him, feeling tears well in his eyes at the reunion with the man who had saved him so long ago…

But his smile quickly faded when he saw the rage in the hobbit's eyes.

"You! You scoundrel!" He shouted angrily, and before either of them knew what happened, Thorin was rubbing his jaw and staring at Bungo in disbelief as he pulled back his now reddened fist. "Y-you! Do you think you can just knock up my son and then vanish for sixteen years?" Bungo seethed at the dwarf, angry tears welling in his eyes as he backed the dwarf up against the walls of the smithy.

Thorin, rubbing his jaw, tried to interject…to explain, but as soon as anything left his mouth, the patriarch cut him off.

"You don't even know what you did, do you? Y-you! You think you can just waltz back into the Shire like it's all fine and dandy, but I'm telling you it is not! You will take responsibility young man! Do you even know what it was like raising your son? Of course not! I had the honor to do so! He's a wonderful boy, no thanks to you! I swear whenever my son gets home you are going to beg for his forgiveness! You'll crawl on your belly if you need to!" Bungo growled at his old friend, and Thorin knew, despite the slight ache in his jaw, and pain in his heart, that Bungo would berate him so terribly if he didn't care about Thorin as well.

"Bungo, I-"

"Don't 'Bungo' me, Holm! You vanished! What happened! Why did you leave? By all that is green, I beg you to tell me you didn't just take my son's virtue and run away!" He begged to know, his voice softer as his rage simmered down.

"Ididn'trunaway!" Thorin said so quickly it came out as one word, solely to keep Bungo from cutting him off again. "I didn't…It's complicated…" Thorin sighed, his shoulders slumping in relief when he saw Bungo relax a bit, allowing him the chance to speak.

"I'm a clever hobbit, I can handle whatever 'complication' you throw at me." He huffed, his nose twitching much like Bilbo's as he crossed his arms defiantly. "What's all that?" Bungo asked then, his eyes unable to stay away from the bushel of flowers Thorin called a bouquet.

Thorin's eyes lit up, and he cleared his throat while straightening his posture. Carefully, he held the flowers out to Bungo, just as he'd been instructed to.

"Bungo Baggins, I have been in love with your son for sixteen years, and I am here now to ask you for your blessing to marry him!" Thorin blurted out nervously, holding out his offering of flowers in a trembling hand, hiding his anxious face from the hobbit.

"Oh, say 'yes' and be done with it, Bungo," Huffed out the playful voice of Belladonna as she gently pushed the flowers out of the way to take in the sight of her long lost friend. "Oh goodness, Frodo does take after you…" She sighed happily, her bottom lip trembling slightly as her face scrunched up in an attempt to keep her tears of joy at bay.

"I'm home, Bella," Thorin smiled sweetly, having missed her dearly. After he gained his memory back, he couldn't help but understand why he'd been so attached to Belladonna in his time in the Shire. Why he felt like she was family from her very first words of 'oh my that's quite a nasty bump on your dome there…' when Bungo brought him back to Bag End.

She was just like Dis in hobbit form.

They were both so full of life and vitality, putting their whole heart in everything they did. They both loved incredibly fiercely, and every other word from their mouths were laced with an abundance of sass that he'd never encountered from any one else but them. When he felt her arms wrap around his waist, and her cheek press to his chest, he knew he was home.

"Yes you are. And you'd better stay home! Did…did you…are you aware you have…well…I mean to say…" She had found Bungo's shouting to be less that tactful and wanted to make sure that her friend truly understood the gravity of his disappearance. "Holm…you have a son. If you leave this town again I swear I'll never let you know the boy, no matter how much I love you. My grandson is the sweetest-"

"O'ma! O'pa!" Shouted Frodo in glee as he and Bilbo finally made their way through the crowd that had gathered from all the shouting.

"Frodo! You're home! Oh my boy!" She sobbed happily as she fell to her knees to hold her precious grandson, checking him over for any new battle scars from his adventure, while still scolding him for running off like he did.

He couldn't help but giggle as he squirmed away from her many kisses and hugs, excited beyond measure to introduce his favorite people to his father. He wiggled out of her grip and scuttled over to Thorin, grabbing his hand as he tugged on it.

"Adad! This is O'ma and O'pa!" He grinned brightly when Thorin scooped him up effortlessly in one arm, the young dwobbit pointing at his grandparents. Neither Thorin nor Bilbo could hold back their chuckles as they watched the look of surprise grow on their faces.

Belladonna and Bungo took in the sight of the father and son, practically identical in all but beards and years. In the young dwobbit's hair were matching braids to Thorin's, and when they finally managed to pull their gaze away from the two, they saw that Bilbo also had braids in his hair, long braids with black hair woven into it.

"We're back home, Mama, Papa…" Bilbo said warmly, but his smile didn't quite reach his tired eyes, exhausted from traveling. The last leg of their journey had been rougher on the poor Thain than it had any right to be.

"Bilbo! My love…welcome home!" Belladonna sniffled, reaching out to him, and taking his hands in her own, holding them close. "We've missed you so much! You…you found Holm! Was he hiding away in that mountain?" She asked, winking at the dwarf before turning back to her son.

"I found him on a throne of all places, can you believe it?" Bilbo snorted, causing Thorin's cheeks to flush red.

"Now why'd you want to sit on one of those?" Laughed Bungo, thinking it some sort of jest, only to catch sight of Bilbo staggering a bit where he stood, a thin layer of sweat covering his flushed face. "Bilbo? Lad? You alright there?" He asked worriedly, rushing to his son's side to help hold him steady.

"Y-yeah I'm fine, I just-" Bilbo paused, as his jaw tightened, his eyes widened, and his stomach lurched. Luckily, Belladonna and Bungo stepped away just in time to avoid the sick that Bilbo violently vomited onto the dirt road.

"Bilbo!" Gasped Thorin, who set Frodo down, giving the boy the mountain of flowers as he rushed to Bilbo, picking him up which allowed the hobbit to bury his face against Thorin's chest, feeling absolutely miserable. "Wh-what happened? Did you eat something bad?" Thorin fretted, feeling Bilbo's forehead with the back of his hand and feeling a clammy fever rising from his flushed skin.

"I didn't eat anything bad…the hand pies were delicious…I tried the spicy one…and…" He paused, looked at his mother as a realization hit him hard, and his hand instinctively went to press against his slightly firmer belly.

"Oh, not again…" He groaned before throwing up once again.

At six months along, Bungo and Belladonna Baggins figured their son-in-law to-be, though not yet married to Bilbo, could move into Bag End instead of living in his apartment above the smithy. Bungo was adamant that Thorin court Bilbo properly, despite having gotten his son pregnant out of wedlock for a second time.

"We're too old to be doing this again…" Bungo had grumbled as he made his way to Thorin in the middle of the night.

"What's the matter?" Thorin asked groggily, having been startled into waking when he heard someone entering his smithy.

"Bilbo's feeling unwell…pack a bag, you're moving in…" Bungo yawned, waving his hand at Thorin's dresser vaguely before using it to cover his mouth from another yawn. "It's not proper…but Bella and I are exhausted…and Frodo's trying to help out more than he should…" The old hobbit explained tiredly as he watched Thorin already up and on his feet as he reached under his bed, grabbing an already packed rucksack.

"Been planning another run away?" Bungo teased dryly, raising an eyebrow, only for Thorin to roll his eyes with a snort.

"Been planning on begging you to let me move in to care for my One. Propriety be damned, he's carrying my child, Bungo. I deserve to be there to care for him…he deserves for me to be there…You as well. You need your rest." Thorin explained, pulling his socks and boots on before grabbing his cloak and following Bungo out into the snow, trudging their way up to Bag End.

"I'm fine, I p-promise…" Bilbo groaned as he lay on his bed, his body tired and aching as he tried to sleep through the pain, having only just come back to bed after Belladonna helped him to the toilet for the fifth time tonight, only for it to be unsuccessful again. "It's…embarrassing you seeing me like this…" Bilbo confessed shyly, but Thorin shut that thought down quickly as he strode over to the bedside and took Bilbo's hands in his own.

"I told you…I wanted to be here for everything. The good, the bad…all of it. Tell me what you need and it shall be yours." Thorin vowed, kissing Bilbo's knuckles. "Foot rub? Soup? What will make you feel better?" He asked tenderly as he knelt beside Bilbo's bed, holding his One's tired gaze.

"N-nothing you can do will make me feel better!" Bilbo groaned as he tried to look away, bunching the sheets into his fists nervously.

"Tell me, Amrâlimê…" Thorin cooed, moving from where he kelt at the foot of the bed to rub Bilbo's feet.

The hobbit drew in a quick, sharp breath through his teeth, wincing at the dwarf's touch, which was already light and gentle, but felt himself melt when Thorin put even less pressure on his feet, moving slowly and carefully, seeping the tension from his tired body. Even if it wasn't the cure, it was heavenly. "I'll do whatever it is." Thorin insisted.

"Can you make me poop?" Bilbo grumbled though gritted teeth, his words blunt as he stared at Thorin with tired, unamused eyes. "I've not released my bowls in a week! Our baby is going to drown in my own-"

"Aye, I can help you with that…Dis had a similar problem when she carried Kili…" He smiled warmly, still rubbing Bilbo's feet as he held his gaze, unfazed by Bilbo's words. "Do not forget, we dwarves find every aspect of pregnancy to be a beautiful gift…No matter what you throw my way, I will not be upset or disgusted…you are beautiful." Thorin insisted, only for Bilbo to glare up at his love.

"It's only a gift to you because you don't have to shove a huge boulder out of your tiny body!" Bilbo yelled at Thorin through his teeth as his stomach cramped once again…but Thorin remained calm and simply nodded, taking Bilbo's anger in stride as he continued rubbing Bilbo's feet.

"And I will do anything I can to make the discomfort of such a blessing go away," Thorin smiled warmly, moving his hands to begin rubbing a soothing circle just under the inside of Bilbo's inner ankle bone, providing just the right amount of pressure for several minutes before switching to the next foot and repeating the process.

"Feeling any better?" Thorin asked softly when he moved his hands back to giving a simple foot rub, focusing on his lover's toes, helping him flex and point them.

"Y-yes…actually…" Bilbo sighed, feeling relief for the first time in hours, only for a terribly foul sound and smell to escape him, causing him to tense and cover his face in embarrassment once again.

Thorin got up, and before Bilbo could think to protest, the dwarf lifted him from the bed, and carried him to the bathroom, listening to ever whimpered protest and whine of shame as he helped his hobbit sit down on the toilet as even though he was half way through his pregnancy, their child was even larger than Frodo had been at this point, making it difficult for Bilbo to move on his own when in pain, especially when tired.

Thorin, the dear, rubbed Bilbo's lower back in a similar fashion to how he rubbed the hobbit's feet, and despite Bilbo's protests and begging for Thorin to leave him so he'd not have to see him in such an unflattering situation, stayed with him the whole time, singing to him and rubbing his aching muscles to keep him at ease.

"You're never going to want to lay with me again after seeing me like this!" Bilbo whined, feeling terribly unattractive as Thorin laid him back in bed.

"On the contrary, I'm going to lay with you right now." Thorin teased, climbing into bed with his One, the heat of his furnace like body was a saving grace for the poor hobbit's aching body, and he couldn't help but lean into the heat.

"Y-you know exactly what I mean! I'm nasty and-"

"You are perfect. Now try to find some sleep…I'll be here when you wake, and I'll give you another massage, alright?" He offered, spooning Bilbo against him happily, his large hand gently rubbing his One's belly, amazed at how wonderful it felt to know that there was a life they made together growing inside the hobbit.

"Bilbo?" He spoke again, a little softer, and the hobbit still didn't answer having finally drifted off to sleep in the safety of Thorin's arms.

But Thorin's safety couldn't protect the hobbit from his overly vivid dreams, or the way his body would almost rapidly change temperatures, pushing Thorin's heat away as he grumbled in his sleep, or snuggling closer to him when he became cold. The tossing and turning of the hobbit kept Thorin up the whole evening, and many evenings after that, yet he had no complaints. He wanted to be there, helping, in any way he could.

It hadn't been that he wasn't there with Bilbo. In fact, before he was invited to live with the Bagginses, he had been at the door to Bag End to greet his son and his One with a bright smile, every morning before he went to work, during his break (which he took extended time off for), and as soon as he closed shop he was running back up the Hill to the smial.

"Papa…" Bilbo had groaned, turning to face Bungo after closing the door to Bag End behind Thorin.

Bungo did not respond, he simply sipped at his morning tea, and turned the pages of the book he was reading.

"Dad," Bilbo tried next, still to no avail.

Bungo simply took an obnoxiously loud sip of his tea, and turned the page of his book once more.

"Father?" Bilbo said, exasperated and annoyed, yet the old hobbit continued his antics.

"Bungo Baggins I swear to all that is green if you don't look at me I'm going to rip that book from your hands and feed it to the pigs!" Bilbo shouted, crossing his arms as he glared at his father with the heat of a hundred suns…or perhaps the heat of one hundred Belladonna's, which was quite a worse wrath, if Bungo had any say.

"Wh-What! Don't call me by my name, that's rude!" Bungo choked on his tea then, quickly dabbing at his book pages with his napkin.

"Stop treating me as if I am a child!" Bilbo seethed, his hazel eyes burning with frustration.

"You are my son, Bilbo. You will always be my child-"

"I am forty-nine! Nearly fifty! I might be your child but I am an adult!" Bilbo growled shrilly as he tried to keep his temper down, but he proved when carrying Frodo that emotional regulation was not his forte when pregnant — and Bungo knew not to point it out, because Belladonna had been much the same while carrying Bilbo.

"Bilbo…You deserve to be courted properly-" Bungo tried to insist, only for Bilbo to cut him off again.

"I'm already pregnant! What's he going to do? It's not like I can get pregnant twice at the same time!" Bilbo heaved, pacing the floors uncomfortably as he gently rubbed at his belly. At four months, he wasn't large by any means…but he was larger than he was when carrying Frodo, and that fact alone was daunting.

The argument with Bungo had been a long time coming, building every day since they returned to the Shire, but as much as Bilbo needed to get this out of his system, he felt so terribly winded. As he paced, he felt himself breathing heavier, and raising his voice at his father didn't do him any favors in that regard.

"It'd be your luck that it'd happen regardless!" Bungo yelled back, finding his nerves fried and himself at wits end. He was tired, he was old, and he just wanted the dwarf to do right by his son.

Thorin had not complained, because of course he wouldn't. He'd apologized for his initial meeting with Bilbo, though he insisted he didn't regret it, he knew he was wrong for how it all ended up, and he was greatly remorseful for that. Now, he was willing to do anything to earn Bungo's blessing and forgiveness.

Belladonna even agreed with Bungo on this…at least for the first two months since they'd returned to Hobbiton, but now she was on Bilbo's side, saying how it was cruel to not let Thorin stay in Bag End with everyone. But Bungo was as stubborn as Bilbo was, and refused to let it go.

"Look, Bilbo…" He sighed, running his hands down his face in exasperation. "It's the principle of it all! He's earning his place by your side by courting you properly. Even if I fully gave him my blessing, I'd not support a wedding so soon, lest you want it to come across as a ring-before-spring wedding!" Bungo explained, digging his heels on the matter.

"R-ring before…Father! As if my reputation needs saving? I'm pregnant again, and no one has seemed to think any less of me! I have done a good job as Thain, despite my 'condition' as you call it," Bilbo snarked, slamming his hands on the table and causing his teacup to rattle on its saucer. "If I wanted to marry Thorin right now I could! Without your permission! I am the Thain of these lands and I can marry whoever I want! In fact, I'm going to go ask him to marry me right now! Better yet, we're moving into his apartment!" Bilbo huffed, stomping off to his bedroom to begin packing his bag.

"We're moving in with Adad?" Gasped Frodo excitedly, looking out the window in hopes of still being able to see the dwarf walking away.

"N-no! No one is moving out of Bag End!" Bungo insisted, calming Frodo's excitement down before hurrying over to Bilbo, placing a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Be reasonable, Bilbo. I'm doing this for your own good!" Bungo pleaded with his son, closing the suitcase slowly and pushing it out of the way, taking Bilbo's hands in his own, and noticing how his once soft skin was now dry and flaky, and he made a mental note to grab more lotion for him next time they were at the market.

"My heart is breaking, Papa! Please…" Bilbo begged, tears in his eyes as he looked to his father pleadingly, too weak to properly squeeze his hands in return.

"And my heart broke when you nearly bled out on your bed during labor! I…I cannot bear to lose you again! So please! Do not fault me for wanting to keep you close and safe a little while longer…I…I love Thorin, I do. I am happy he is here…but let him show you the respect you deserve…He wants to prove himself, not just to you and to me, but to all of the Shire that he is worthy of you…Please." Bungo begged, and Bilbo's shoulders slumped forward as he gave in, exhausted and nodding as he rested his head on his father's shoulder.

These months had been miserable. Knowing Thorin was so close yet so far…but they had managed to find time to be alone together on Sterday when neither of them worked, and Thorin found plenty of time to worship his hobbit's body in his bed in his apartment. At first, Thorin had been worried about hurting Bilbo or their child, but the doctor insisted it was fine, so long as Bilbo didn't feel any discomfort…And Bilbo insisted to Thorin that he only felt comfort.

His mood had improved, as did his appetite, and his overall well being…but as their child grew, he found it harder to make the long walk to the market even with Thorin walking beside him, and he wasn't exactly going to have his dwarf carry him to his smithy. So Bilbo stayed home more, and did as he did before leaving the Shire for Erebor.

He worked.

He did little else from dawn to dusk, aside from taking care of Frodo, who was excited to spend the night at Thorin's smithy every other night in order to give Bilbo a break…if only the hobbit actually took a break. When he had Frodo, he hadn't been Thain. He didn't have a job of pressing importance, because he had simply been his father's assistant. Now, Bilbo had a country that depended on him. He'd already been gone a year, and he had never been the sort of Thain that put themselves before their people…so he worked.

"Too strong for your own good, little one…" Bilbo winced as he received yet another bruising kick to his ribs, making him gasp as he struggled for air for a moment. As time passed, and his belly grew, he could swear the baby was intentionally pressing against his lungs to keep him from breathing. "Just let me do my work…please…" He muttered, his leg shaking up and down as he reviewed the paper yet again.

"What is it you're working on now, Amrâlimê?" Thorin asked as he surprised Bilbo with an early lunch break from his smithy along with a fresh bouquet of camillias.

"Just…sorting some things out," Bilbo sighed, pushing the paper aside as he plastered a smile on his face, truly happy to see Thorin and such pretty flowers, even if he was in such pain.

"What things?" Thorin asked, seeing through the facade easily, glancing around Bilbo to look at the paper before he glared at his hobbit. Not a glare of anger, or hate, but of concern. "What is that, Bilbo?" He asked, knowing his eyes did not deceive him, seeing as Bilbo slumped in shame without being pressed on the matter.

Picking up the paper, Thorin read it over, and crumpled it up before tossing it away.

"What was that for? Wh-why'd you do that?" Bilbo gasped, quickly becoming short of breath yet again.

"Why do you need to write a will?" Thorin asked, getting down on his knees before Bilbo at his desk and taking the hobbit's slender hands in his own, warming his frozen fingers with his intensely hot palms.

"I simply…never updated the one I made at my coming of age. Much has changed since then…" Bilbo explained softly, rolling his eyes as he tried to brush it off.

"Why now?" He doubled down, trying desperately to read the ache in his One's hazel eyes, but could not quite decipher the pain.

"J-just in case! That's all! I'm just…trying to cover all my bases is all. I've not written who my successor will be, a-and the other day Fort told me plainly that it better not be him. Being my deputy is stressful enough! If…If I die, I need to know the Shire is in good hands!" Bilbo sighed dramatically. "Happy?"

"No, I'm not. I'm not happy that you think you're going to die! What…where did this thought even come from?" Thorin asked, his gentle voice thick with worry.

"I told you, I'm just covering my bases…Our children will be safe and cared for by you…but the Shire needs a Thain…" Bilbo mumbled before looking Thorin in the eye and glaring. "So, before I lose all function, please let me get back to work! There's so much I need to do, Thorin…I have been trying to catch up for days. I can barely sleep for all the work I've got to do…"

"Which is probably why you're in so much pain. Thorin, please…You were a King! Tell Bilbo to take a break!" Belladonna begged her future son-in-law as she brought in a tray of Lunch for everyone. "You took breaks, certainly, yes?"

"Of cou-" Thorin nearly lied through his teeth only for Bilbo to smack his arm, knowing very well that was an outright lie. "I didn't, but I should have. And I wasn't carrying a child, so it wasn't the same…but I still should have taken a break. Please?"

All Thorin received in return was a glare from his hobbit, which left him no choice.

"Alright then. Be that way. I am a pushover, you know this…" Thorin sighed, wrapping his arms around his husband from behind and lifting up his belly slightly, carrying the weight for his One while they stood there, and he smiled at the sigh of relief Bilbo let out.

"You are a pushover…" Belladonna groaned, needing someone other than Bungo on her side.

"But my sister isn't." He smirked, pecking Bilbo's cheek. "And her raven just arrived this morning telling me that she'll be here in only three or so days." Thorin smiled, burying his nose in Bilbo's neck as he chased the sweet scent of lavender and honey that lingered strongly on his hobbit at the moment.

"Dis is coming?" Bilbo's eyes widened excitedly.

"Yes. And she'll be quick to whip you into shape…Said she didn't want you to go through dwarven labor with only hobbit midwives…and she misses you and Frodo." Thorin grinned, kissing Bilbo's cheek before letting his belly go slowly and carefully.

"She'll kill me if she knows I've been working, won't she…" Bilbo suddenly paled, eyeing Thorin nervously as the dwarf gave a simple nod of the head.

Belladonna placed her hands on her hips in triumph, smirking as she waked to the kitchen. "I'll go make some scones to celebrate your parental leave while Thorin pens a letter for your cousin to take over the office in the mean time!" She smiled, whistling as she got to work in the kitchen.

Needless to say, Belladonna and Dis were like sisters from the moment they laid eyes on each other, and they were thrilled — just as Thorin knew, and dreaded they would be.

Thorin did lament that Bilbo felt more comfortable asking Dis for help with certain things during his pregnancy. Certain pain that both Bella and Dis insisted were things 'only a bearing person could ever understand' and so Thorin would be kicked from the bathroom or the bedroom, or the living room even…quite honestly, he and Bungo were kicked out of the house frequently, and would take Frodo on outings around the Shire till they received word either from a Gamgee or a pigeon that they were welcome home again…usually when Bilbo had finally gotten some sleep once more.

It was a good thing that Dis was there, and that she was just as strong as Thorin, because by Bilbo's ninth month, the hobbit could hardly waddle comfortably, and moving had become quite the burden on him. Dis could carry Bilbo as if he were less than a bag of flour, and Thorin was grateful that she was there for him…

But once again, he felt like he was missing out on helping his One through his pregnancy. One day when they were kicked out once more, Bungo took Frodo and Thorin to his golf course, and invited his brothers (both by blood and marriage) for a boys day out, as he called it. Frodo was now old enough, and tall enough, to learn how to play properly finally, and Thorin was excited to play beside his friends once more.

"Oh, trust me, when Belba was carrying our sons she was a right menace, both her and Belladonna were!" Rudigar (Bungo's sister Belba's husband) grinned as he finished his swing, watching the golf ball fly and land right where the hobbit wanted it, and they all moved as a unit to where it landed. "I hardly saw her until she gave birth to them! It's pretty common, lad…the women folk like to stick together." He explained as he set up for his next swing.

"But Bilbo isn't a woman." Thorin shot back, knowing how terribly his husband hated this aspect of himself. Simply because he was a bearer, he'd always be equated to a woman in some way, and Thorin refused to let anyone think it.

"Yes, yes…I know that, but it doesn't stop him from finding comfort with the women folk who have gone through the same process as him…I'm sure he'd be bonding with Desi Brandybuck over it too if they lived closer." Rudigar explained after his next swing, followed by a polite round of applause from the others as his ball made it in the hole.

"I just…I hoped to be there for him more…" Thorin sighed, earning a pat on the back from the other fathers.

"We get it, lad…but we can tell you just as well from our own experiences, that if the women…if the bearers kick you out, you stay out, lest you want to cope with their hormones and all that…" Bodo Proudfoot (Bungo's little sister Linda's husband) laughed, patting him on the back.

"I don't mind hormones! I want to cope with the hormones!" Argued Thorin. "I missed Frodo's birth, I wanted to be here for this one…And I am, yet they won't let me!" He huffed, too distracted to play and letting Frodo take his turn, blissfully ignorant of his father's turmoil.

"Come now, how many more months does he have? He's already bursting at the seam, is he not? If he's anything like his aunt Belba, he's probably feeling like he's too 'ugly to be seen right now', is what she said the last trimester…" Rudigar sighed, and Thorin looked terrified.

"About one more month now…coming up on a year soon," Thorin mumbled, nervous just thinking about how soon it was till his next child was born. "And Bilbo wouldn't kick me out because he thinks he's ugly. He knows I think he's the most handsome thing to walk all of Arda." Thorin tried to counter, but a heavy weight settled in his chest, an almost guilty feeling, but not quite…a feeling that told him he was wrong.

"Bungo? Do you mind watching Frodo? I…I need to see Bilbo," He said urgently, as a sudden fear coursed through him that his One didn't know how absolutely besotted Thorin was.

Out of breath, as cross country was not Thorin's strong suit, he knocked on the door to Bag End, even if he did live there now. He could simply walk inside if he wished, and demand to speak with his One…as if that would go over well with the two hawks who were ready to peck at anything that dared get close to their nest. The hawks being his mother-in-law, and sister, and the nest, of course, being Bilbo.

Eventually, Dis opened the door, her face falling from cordial to cold upon seeing her brother. "We didn't invite you back yet." She spoke sharply, and Thorin knew better than to try to use his words.

Quickly, he held out his peace offering — a bag filled to the brim with a variety of pasties, and used her distraction to slip past her and walk to his and Bilbo's bedroom. Yes, he'd just seen his One this morning, but that was hours ago, and he missed him fiercely.

As he entered the room, knocking softly to alert Bilbo of his presence before he opened the door, holding out the bouquet of flowers he had hidden behind his back.

"Thorin?" Groaned Bilbo, looking absolutely exhausted. His skin was pale and his eyes were dark from restless sleep, and his hair was an absolute mess…and he was beautiful. "You…you got me lilies?" Bilbo gasped at the sight in Thorin's hand.

"I got you calla lilies, yes." Thorin smiled, as he walked to the night stand to place his bouquet beside the now wilting roses Thorin had brought him last week.

"They're beautiful…" Bilbo smiled sweetly, leaning up as best he could, and Thorin rushed forward to help Bilbo sit up.

"You're beautiful." Thorin said firmly, his voice soft and gentle and leaving no room for arguing. "I know I was kicked out…but please…I'll be quiet, and leave you alone…just let me stay by your side. At least today…" He begged, no shame in his eyes as he expressed his needs.

Reaching out, Bilbo stroked Thorin's ever growing beard, loving how long it was as he could happily tangle his fingers in it now that he'd begun to let it grow, and Bilbo was eager to watch the dwarf braid it someday soon.

"You can stay…I…I was simply feeling miserable this morning…How can you even want to be my side? How can you still want me? I'm larger than Bombur, Thorin!" Bilbo groaned, feeling Thorin take his hand in his own.

"Hardly," Thorin snorted, allowing Bilbo to guide him to lay beside him, crawling over Bilbo's legs carefully before joining Bilbo under the blanket, spooning the hobbit happily. "Bombur is twice your size, even now. Besides, didn't you tell me that Bombur would be quite the catch here in the Shire?" Thorin asked, his voice light and slightly teasing, a little worried he'd say the wrong thing.

"He would be! All the lasses would fawn over him! Some of the lads, too, I reckon. B-but not dwarves…A-and you fell for me when I was smaller and-"

"I fell for you because you were you, and nothing else. I found you incredibly attractive the day we met, with your body soft beneath my touch…and I fell for you the day we were reunited, and you were all banged up from fighting orcs, need I remind you? And now, I fall for you again, every morning I wake up and ever night we fall asleep together…Haven't I told you? How just knowing that you're carrying my child makes me yearn for you? Makes me want to put another in you right away?" He practically purred in Bilbo's ear, unable to help but press himself closer to his hobbit.

Bilbo squeaked softly, and let out a breathy moan of approval when he felt Thorin's cock begin to stiffen against his rear, wider and thicker than before now that he was carrying a child again. Carefully and curiously, Bilbo pressed back into him, enjoying the attention.

"Th-Thorin…I don't have it in me…t-to help you out…" Bilbo mumbled remorsefully. "I'm too sore, and the thought of having anything inside me makes me uncomfortable right now…" He confessed, and Thorin simply nodded, humming in acknowledgment as he peppered kisses along Bilbo's neck and shoulder, tugging at the loose shirt to reveal more skin.

"Since when have I ever asked for help?…I have a hand. I simply wanted you to know how attractive I find you. I cannot stop finding you attractive. You could be rolling with the pigs in the mud and I'd think you beautiful. If I ever hear you tell me you think you're less attractive because your body is adjusting to carrying life, then I'll have to be concerned for your sanity, because I'm afraid my One is speaking crazy talk…" Thorin teased, pressing a little more needily against Bilbo, driving his point.

"O-oh…oooh…" Bilbo whimpered, pleased at the feeling against his ass, and from the dwarf's words, flexing his toes as his body reacted to Thorin's. 

"Would you like me to worship you the way you deserve, Amrâlimê? Would you allow me to show you how much I love you? Your body? In every form and shape you may take in our lives?" Thorin asked, his voice husky with want…an intense desire to pleasure his One.

Bilbo stopped kicking Thorin from the house after that, Though he did ask the Gamgees to watch and take care of Frodo more often, for as much as he loved his son, Frodo had grown just as concerned for Bilbo as Thorin had, and he tried to take care of him, running errands around the house to fetch a glass of water or a snack, or fanning Bilbo when he got too warm, or bringing another blanket when he got too cold…Luckily, Dis knew how to get him to understand that though the gesture was kind, it wasn't his responsibility to take care of Bilbo, and he should go make Bilbo happy by being happy himself, and go play with Sam.

"He's such a good boy," Bilbo sighed as Thorin he walked beside Bilbo, holding his hand in one hand, and his hip in the other as they made their way back inside from the bench by the door…but not even two steps from the bench did Bilbo and Thorin hear a sudden splash of water on the stone path beneath their feet. Looking down, they saw a small, clear puddle that continued to grow as more water glided down Bilbo's legs.

"O-oh. Oh my…umm…L-let me c-clean that u-up…" Bilbo said, beginning to tremble as his nerves began to set in.

"No, Bilbo…We're going to go inside…Do you want to walk, or for me to carry you?" Thorin asked carefully, holding more firmly to Bilbo, and trying to keep his voice calm even though his entire body screamed at him to panic.

"W-walk…" Bilbo answered quickly, grabbing tighter to Thorin as he tried to get himself to move, but he was frozen in fear.

"Amrâlimê?" Thorin asked, trying to guide him to the door, unsure of what was wrong. "Are you in pain? Do you need me to carry you?" Thorin asked again, his own panic leaking from his voice.

"I-I can't…I can't do it again…I can't, Thorin…I can't…I can't!" Bilbo began to panic, having never felt such intense panic in his life. "It…it was so terrifying! It hurt so badly, Thorin, I can't do it! I can't…Please…please don't make me…I don't…I can't do it!" He broke down, his knees giving out as he began to hyperventilate.

"Dis!" Thorin called into the house. "Dis! Help! Now!" Thorin called again, his voice deep and raspy with worry.

"What's the matter?" Dis asked, running out the front door to their side, and seeing the puddle between Bilbo's legs, and the panic in his face as Thorin held him upright, seeing as his legs refused to hold him any longer.

"Oh, I've got you, Agnât’kharm (brother-in-law)…come now, you'll let Thorin carry you inside, alright?" She spoke far more kindly than Thorin had ever heard his sister speak.

Silently, as if words simply weren't an option, Bilbo gave a shaky nod, and Thorin lifted him carefully into his arms and stepped over the puddle and into the threshold of Bag End.

Dis wasted no time at all, rushing in front of Thorin to prepare Bilbo's bed, spurring Belladonna into action when she saw Thorin carrying Bilbo inside, and quickly sent out Peri, Bilbo's personal messenger pigeon, to the midwives, while Bungo took care of Frodo. Once the pregnant hobbit was in bed and as comfortable as he could get, he began trembling once more.

"Wh-where's Frodo? B-bring me Frodo!" Bilbo ordered, his grip tight on Thorin, his eyes urgent and afraid.

Bungo, having heard the demand clearly from the living room, quickly brought the boy over.

"Papa? Are you okay?" He asked worriedly, looking at his father who looked worse for ware.

"I'm doing just fine, my boy…" Bilbo lied, but Frodo couldn't tell past the calm mask the hobbit wore…only Thorin and Dis had seen how racked with fear the hobbit had been just moments ago. "I wanted to see you before you to spend some time with the Gamgee's…" Bilbo smiled as Thorin lifted their son, placing him next to Bilbo on the other side of the bed.

"Are you going to have the babies now?" Frodo asked excitedly, his eyes wide and curious, his smile just as bright as the blue that sparkled at him.

"Babies? Oh heavens, no…just baby, thank you very much!" Laughed Bilbo nervously, the idea terrifying him.

"But I heard Missus Bracegurdle saying that you could only get this big if you were full of lots of babies!" He argued, not realizing how his words unnerved Bilbo…but Thorin and Dis did.

"Now, now, Dushtel…tell your Papa you love him, and that you'll see him soon, okay?" Thorin said kindly, but firmly, the boy nodding obediently as he scooted up the bed to Bilbo's side, and hugged him tightly, kissing Bilbo's cheek.

"I love you, Papa. I'll be very good for the Gamgee's, I promise." He smiled, and Bilbo held back his tears as he smiled back, kissing Frodo's brow as he was carried away.

"I bet Papa is full of at least ten babies, right O'pa?" Frodo could be heard asking Bungo as the old hobbit walked him out of Bag End. "Or twenty! Or a hundred babies!" He cheered, his voice fading into the distance.

Once Belladonna nodded that Frodo was gone and out of ear shot, Bilbo let the mask slip away, the terror of ten, or twenty, or a hundred births made the hobbit feel sick.

"M-make sure he knows I love him. N-no matter what happens…he needs to know how much I love him…Do you understand, Th-Thorin?" Bilbo whimpered, trying so hard to not panic even as the fear coursed through his veins, the memory of giving birth to Frodo flooding each of his senses.

He could see and smell the blood on the bed, and hear the his father crying before Frodo came out, whaling loudly for attention. He could feel his body grow cold, and his eyes grow dim…

"Bilbo…I'm right here…" Thorin soothed, trying to bring Bilbo back to reality, coaxing him to look at him. "See? I'm here…Your mother is here, and Dis is here…We're all here for you. Frodo is safe, and you are safe…the midwives are on their way…"

"I…I don't want to do it again…j-just get it out…just get it out and be done with it, I can't…I can't do it again…" Bilbo cried, his body shaking as if he were in the Fell Winter once more.

"Yes you can, Bilbo Baggins. And we're gonna help you through it." Announced the midwives as they entered the home, the lead one entering the room itself. "Now…let's have a look at you…" She smiled warmly, and Bilbo did feel some comfort as he saw the kind woman, Netty Cotton, who had helped him through giving birth to Frodo.

Thorin stayed out of the way as told, and did his best to stay calm, but his One's panic was terrifying him. He'd never seen Bilbo — never seen anyone — so scared in his life. Not on the battlefield where lives were being taken, and not in the face of a dragon…Even when Dis gave birth to both Fili and Kili she had been stoic more than anything.

Dis took her brother's hand, supporting him as they watched the midwives work, Belladonna helping with telling the midwives how Bilbo had been the past week since they last saw him, reporting every detail from bowl movements to how much he'd been able to exercise and eat.

"Wh-what? What was that?" Bilbo asked, hearing the midwives murmuring amongst themselves, only for the lead to take her stethoscope and listen to Bilbo's belly for a third, and fourth time.

"What did you say?" Bilbo asked again, grabbing Netty's hand desperately. "Tell me. What's wrong?" He asked, and Thorin instinctively moved closer to protect his One from whatever words the woman might say.

"Bilbo, deary…when was your last contraction?" She asked, holding Bilbo's hand gently in her own, ignoring the other midwives who worked at the foot of the bed, each helping position Bilbo's legs, spreading them apart carefully, and bending them to the right angle.

"Wh-what?" Bilbo gasped, his shaking getting worse as his breathing quickened.

"Have you felt any cramping? Tightening?" She asked, staying calm in comparison to everyone else.

"No! I-I don't know! I'd know if I-I did, right? I…I've not…f-felt anything!" Bilbo cried out, looking at all the nervous, but supportive faces in the room.

Gently, she pressed on Bilbo's stomach, observing how the contraction rolled through the bearer's body, even if Bilbo's fear kept him from recognizing it.

"Okay, Dear…You're already crowning, we need you to-"

"No! No, please…I can't!" Bilbo begged, and actively tried to get out of the bed, his eyes fixed on the door. "I can't!" He said again, only for Thorin to gently hold his shoulders.

"I'm right here, Bilbo. You can. You can do this…" He smiled warmly as he crawled into the bed behind Bilbo, propping him up and giving him something to hold onto and lean against.

Bilbo clung to Thorin's arms, closing his eyes tightly as he leaned into his dwarf, his fingers digging into Thorin's skin, but the dwarf didn't flinch as he supported the hobbit.

"Bilbo, we need you to push or else the babies might be in trouble," Netty warned, her tone kind and professional.

"I can't…I can't …Babies? I can't…One is too many! I can't do it again…" He trembled, and Thorin held him closer, gently, giving a nod to Dis and Bella who were bustling around with the midwives, constantly filling the buckets of hot water and bringing clean clothes as instructed.

"You can and you must…they're ready to come out. Bilbo…when I say push, you push…I know you say you can't feel it…but trust us…okay?" She smiled warmly, and after a sharp inhale in, Bilbo gave a weak nod.

"Y-yes…" He agreed, closing his eyes tightly as he followed their cues.

The pain was blinding, and the ringing in his ears from it was deafening. He couldn't hear himself think, or the midwives telling him to push over his own shouts as he struggled through, gripping Thorin's hands so tightly, as if letting him go even the slightest bit would make him fall into the oblivion of pain.

"Th-thorin! I…I can't…I'm going…It's going to kill me…I can't do it again…I d-don't want to die…" Bilbo trembled as he gave another push when instructed, sweat running down his brow and mixing with his tears. "I…I don't…I don't want to die…We…haven't even…gotten…married yet!" He roared out in anguish as he pushed again, focusing on Thorin behind him and not the worried glances shared between the midwives.

"Bilbo…save your strength…" Thorin whispered, knowing if his spoke any louder he'd begin crying as well, terrified for his One who had always been so strong and brave, now reduced to such a state of fear that Thorin could never understand.

"N-no! I…Thorin! M-marry me! Marry me right n-now! I…I don't want…to die…a-and b-be barred from y-you forever!" He cried out, gripping Thorin's hands so tightly that he gave another push, vaguely hearing Netty telling him that he needed 'just a few more pushes'.

"Yes! I'll marry you, Bilbo…I'll marry you!" Thorin spoke quickly, agreeing with his whole heart. He didn't care how or when they got married…but the prospect of Bilbo dying in his arms…never seeing each other again in this life or the next, shook him to the bone.

"Thorin! Give me your ribbon!" Belladonna exclaimed, her hand outstretched to the dwarf's hair. Thorin didn't flinch, unlike Dis, when the hobbit went to his side, and undid the blue ribbon from his hair that he still had to this day, filling her heart with warmth.

"Oh my boy, you are doing so good…I'm so proud of you," Bella fawned over Bilbo, trying not to let her emotions keep her from fulfilling her son's wishes, placing a kiss to his damp curls before she began winding the ribbon around their hands, still clasped tightly together.

Thorin curiously watched as the soft ribbon was looped and draped over their hands meticulously, and guided Bilbo and Thorin to take a hold of each lose end, pausing when Bilbo had to push once more, only to continue as soon as his scream stopped.

"What did I miss?" Bungo called into the room, running inside as he'd just returned from dropping Frodo off, his eyes widening at the sight. "Bilbo! Bilbo, are you okay?" He panicked, earning a sob of many emotions from his son, happy to see Bungo, but scared of what was ahead.

Quickly, Belladonna filled Bungo in on what was happening, as if the ribbon around their hands wasn't clear enough, and the patriarch of the family nodded, understanding. "Thorin. Do you swear to all that is green to love and cherish and care for my son, til' the world is made anew?" Bungo hurriedly asked the dwarf.

"Yes! I do." Thorin answered far too loudly, nodding eagerly for the ceremony to hurry up as his love was in so much pain.

"Good. Bilbo, do you swear to all that is green to love and cherish and care for Thorin, til' the world is made anew?" He asked to Bilbo.

"Push!" Netty hollered.

"Y-yes!" Bilbo screamed as he obeyed, pushing a final time before he heard their first babe's cries.

Bungo's sole focus was on Bilbo and Thorin while Dis and Bella took care of her new grandchild, helping the midwives as they checked the fauntling over, cleaned, and swaddled them, and gave Bilbo a bright smile to show her son that his baby was healthy.

"Release your hands…you can tie the knot now." Bungo smiled, wiping tears from his own eyes as he watched Bilbo, weaker than his own baby, smiling a wobbly smile as he leaned into Thorin, letting go of the dwarf's hands as Bungo guided them to tying the knot.

"May Yavanna guide you on your road. Now and for always." Bungo whispered tenderly, watching as Thorin pressed a gentle kiss to Bilbo's temple.

"I love you," Thorin smiled, whispering in his husband's ear.

"I love you to-too!" Bilbo smiled back, only for his voice to go shrill as his volume raised, gasping for air once more.

As Dis watched on, her guilt began weighing down on her. For so long she was one of the forces keeping these two apart, and she couldn't help but wonder if Bilbo would be in so much pain today if she had supported her brother in getting back to the Shire sooner. While Dis could not erase the past, she could help write out their future.

"Paper! I'll go get paper!" She blurted out, running out of the room to fetch parchment and a pen.

"Your next one's pretty eager to meet you too, Bilbo…ready?" Netty asked almost as soon as Dis left the room, getting into position.

Bilbo gripped Thorin's hands once more, still holding the ribbon together as Bilbo nodded, feeling more at peace knowing that if he were to pass away, he would not be kept from Thorin.

"Yes!" Bilbo nodded firmly, even if his eyes were still filled with fear.

It took but a moment for Dis to return with her supplies: A pen, and a piece of paper which on it was scratched the words "Marriage Certificate" as was custom in Dwarven culture — even if she wrote it in Westron.

After the first few pushes, Dis moved to Bilbo, handing him the pen, and guiding him to sign his name on the line she drew. Bilbo's normal flourishing signature was now a scribble with blotches as he pushed the pen down hard into the paper as he struggled to focus on it.

Thorin signed the paper right before the next push, quickly grabbing Bilbo's hands once more, as their next child came out crying loud and proud. Yet they newly weds only had eyes for each other, the sound of the room around them fading away as the ribbon in their hands grounded them, showing Bilbo that he had done it…he succeeded, and he survived.

Thorin kissed Bilbo's sweaty brow, so, so proud of him. "Well done, Amrâlimê…" He praised as his hobbit began falling into a much needed, and very deserved slumber as he was cradled in Thorin's safe embrace.

When he was roused an hour later to the sound of his twins crying, he found that the dwarf behind him was now shirtless, and cradling their newborns in either arm while Bilbo was laying in the middle.

The smile on Thorin's lips was mesmerizing, and made Bilbo's heart skip a beat. He nodded when Thorin asked if he was ready to hold their son and daughter, and carefully took them from Thorin, smiling down at them.

"The next ones better look like me, or else you'll be the one carrying the next batch," Bilbo teased warmly, his hazel eyes tired yet warm as he took their twins into his arms. He couldn't help but laugh, a small chuckle escaping his lips, as the sight of more black curls, and bright blue eyes stared up at him.

Twenty-Four Years Later

Bilbo and Thorin sat side by side at the breakfast table, leaning against each other, tired from a long night of dancing and music. September twenty-second would always be a day to remember…But last night was a party of special magnificence.

"Seventy-Three isn't important…hence why I didn't need to make a speech…Now, forty on the other hand? That's a very good year…Very important year to celebrate indeed." Bilbo sighed happily, stirring the sugar into his breakfast tea to the backdrop of snoring. Smiling at the sound of his twins, Bella and Bungo, passed out on the rugs in front of the crackling hearth, exhausted from their first party where they could drink their fill of mead — and promptly regret doing so the morning after.

"Forty…he is forty…" Shuddered Thorin, having struggled to accept that his son was an adult now. "Hopefully he is smarter than we were…" Thorin laughed playfully, pecking Bilbo's lips with a quick kiss, admiring how the silver that now laced Bilbo's hair.

"Of course he is…We told him to be careful…" Bilbo brushed off, having no doubt in his mind that their Frodo was the pinnacle of good behavior.

"Since when has Frodo ever been careful?" Snorted Billin, their youngest, emerged from the kitchen with another helping of ham, and six eggs — fried, not poached — and sat at their seat across from Thorin, enjoying the way their fathers grimaced at the truth in their words.

Then, the door to Bag End opened slowly, and the family turned to face Frodo as he practically danced his way through the entrance and to the breakfast table, spinning around and finding his place across from Bilbo.

Pressing a kiss to Bilbo's cheek, and humming the words, "Happy birthday, Pa'…" in a sing-song-voice.

"Happy birthday to you too," Bilbo grinned, pinching Frodo's cheek as if he didn't just become an adult. "Well, don't you seem rather…" Bilbo snorted, smiling at Frodo as he took the empty plate and began filling it with the food on the table.

"…Dreamy?" Thorin suggested, as their son didn't seem to hear them at all.

"Whimsical?" Bilbo offered, the two of them staring curiously at their now grown adult dwobbit son as he scooped up breakfast potatoes and forwent anything else, staring out the window at the sunrise as his fork poked at the pieces without looking, and bringing an empty fork to his lips repeatedly as he got lost in whatever day dream he was having.

"Did you enjoy your party, Frodo? You seemed to be enjoying yourself when we left." Smiled Thorin, earning an eye roll from Bilbo who had told the dwarf not to bring up how the only person Frodo danced with was the Gamgee boy.

"…Do you think I smell good, Papa?" Frodo asked softly, his blue eyes staring out longingly, curiously sniffing at the back of his wrist.

"Oh, Frodo! You smell like roses and sweet cakes!" Teased Billin, hoping to get arise from their eldest brother, only to earn a kick to the knee from Bilbo, and for the dwobbit to continue staring out the window, while Bella and Bungo mumbled for Billin to 'please be quiet…', earning a sympathetic chuckle from their parents.

"You probably smell like mead and sweat, to be honest." Bilbo grinned, about to get up to make a quick remedy for what Bilbo could only assume was an odd sort of hangover that left his son acting so odd.

As the aging hobbit got to his feet he turned to the door when he heard the bell ring.

"Who on earth…so early in the morning…" Bilbo sighed, glaring at the green door. "No thank you! We don’t want any more visitors, well-wishers or distant relations!" Bilbo grumbled, only for the bell to ring again a moment later.

"Blast it all…" He sighed, setting the tea he was working on down as he headed to the door, and swung it open.

Before him was a very large bouquet of flowers, hiding a very red faced Samwise Gamgee.

"H-hello, Master Bilbo, sir…M-Master Thorin…I…I-I…I have something I want to ask…i-if you have the time…" The gardener blushed brightly, his voice trembling, but full of determination and certainty.

"Yes!" Thorin blurted out from the table, nearly tripping out of his chair as he hurriedly ran to the door. He adored Sam, and had been waiting for this day as long as Frodo (or so Bilbo would tease). Marching over to the doorway, he smiled brightly as he pulled the gardener into a tight embrace, lifting him off the floor as Bilbo smirked at the scene, holding the blessings bouquet close to his heart.

"Welcome to the family."

The End