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Eldeth groans as she hears more praises for the bloody halfling who did nothing notable but create a new guild… alright she admits that it is indeed an extremely notable accomplishment but one shouldn’t overshadow everything she has done for the kingdom! She has accomplished multiple trade agreements that benefit Erebor! Built and maintained several orphanages! And she has been the trend setter of Ereborian fashion for several decades! It is so annoying! She should be Thorin’s consort and not that halfling! Why should he get all the glory when she has been working so hard for all these years? True, she is talented, able to grasp concepts and implement them in a matter of moments, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t work hard. Talent without hard work is meaningless, after all.
But right now everything is falling apart. Ever since that disastrous competition where she fainted from having only three bites of that poison, her reputation has seemed to only plummet. Never has she felt such humiliation! She was forced by her adad to stay at home for the time being, to wait until everyone has found something else more entertaining than her failure.
Still, she invites her friends over. After all, it is only proper to maintain her friendships with them all, and they give her valuable information. Like right now when the dwarrowdams she calls friends are talking about how Prince Fíli got gold-sick over an apprentice scribe, Ori.
“Can you believe it? Another dashat of Zhori climbing up the social ladders by spreading their legs,” Falkrunn, a dwarrowdam from a family of merchants that focuses on silk products, laughs. Eldeth knows she in particular had her heart set on Dori, the eldest of the three, but got her heart broken when it was revealed that Dori said his heart was meant for Balin.
“I’d be careful speaking such words in public, Falkrunn,” Eldeth warns. She has no love for the Ri brothers but she doesn’t believe in the rumors of them being gold diggers. After all, she knows of their achievements before their current partners found interest in them. Dori became a Guildmaster before he reached a hundred, which is an incredible feat. Nori became one of the best scribes. And his brother Ori, despite only a few years in Balin’s service, is already headed for a promotion.
Still, she knows a broken heart when she sees one; “I know where you are coming from, but you mustn't let your emotions get the best of you. It has been decades since Dori married Balin, it is time to let go. Besides, perhaps you will find your One.”
“Eldeth, I don’t believe you have the right to say such things to me,” Falkrunn replies with a glare but softens. “Oh my friend, look at us. Two fools who can’t let go.”
“I sometimes wonder if I should. It is no secret that there was no love between me and Thorin, but still…,” Eldeth groans as she remembers the years wasted training to be a consort who would one day be queen.
“I suppose I should apologize. Unlike me, you are giving up so much more…,” Falkrunn gently holds her hand and Eldeth smiles. “Your adad would never let you…”
“He would not…”, Eldeth sighs. Einkil, her adad, is a general of Erebor, and an overly ambitious dwarf. She knows her parents married out of convenience and never truly loved one another. Still, she remembers having a relatively good childhood as they were still friends with one another… until her amad found her One, left Eldeth and her adad, and moved to the Iron Hills. Einkil has forbidden her from communicating with her amad and started enforcing lessons for her to be a queen, projecting his ambitions onto her instead.
“Sometimes I hope adad finds his One to see if he changes,” Eldeth replies with a sigh, “I wonder if I’ll change when I meet mine.”
“Hopefully not too much, you’re fun dear,” Falkrunn replies with a giggle of her own.
“Thank you Falkrunn,” Eldeth smiles as she wonders what is going to happen now.
“Are you going to join the ball? The one welcoming the other hobbits into the mountain?” Falkrunn asks, and Eldeth thinks about it. She would love to go and perhaps use her charm and wit to get back into society again. Most people’s eyes should be focused on the hobbits and not her, which normally would annoy her but now she is only thankful.
“I will. And of course I’m going to have to go and buy a new dress. Eldeth can see Falkrunn grinning with glee.
“Oh you know I’m going to show you my new catalogue!”, Falkrunn happily says and the two talk more about what’s been happening around the mountain. Aside from Prince Fíli’s madness, it seems Prince Kíli has also gone mad.
“You’re kidding me, an elf?” Eldeth asks in surprise.
“I mean if their irak’adad fell for a hobbit, an elf isn’t as surprising when you think about it,” Falkrunn answers with a shrug. “Oh where is the royal family heading to? We’re going to be overrun with non dwarrows.”
“They make good trading partners, but being part of the royal family? Ugh, Mahal strike them down for the blasphemy,” Eldeth shakes her head before she pauses to think, “Then again, Mahal is the one who gives us our Ones so perhaps it is meant to be.”
“Do you really think so?” Falkrunn raises her eyebrows at the sudden change. “Do you truly believe Ones can be different species?”
“You have heard of Lord Elrond and his ilk, Peredhil. Or in Westron, half elves. And the Valar seem to bless them rather than punish their kind so perhaps it is true that Ones can be from other races,” Eldeth answers and Falkrunn thinks about it.
“I can see that, but ugh, it is such a big change”, Falkrunn shakes her head.
“You’re a merchant, Falkrunn dear. Change should be something you enjoy,” Eldeth says, making the two dwarrowdams laugh. “So, let’s plan my dress shall we?”
“Gladly!” Falkrunn grins as she takes out a pen and paper as they happily brainstorm dress ideas.
Meanwhile, over at the castle, Víli relaxes on a couch. Or at least tries to as he listens to his youngest dashat Kíli try and fail to create letters for his lover Tauriel. Bilbo is also there, trying to help Kíli out. Kíli takes a deep breath before he reads his latest attempt:
“My Dearest Leaf Upon the Wind,
From the moment I beheld you beneath the silver canopy of the moonlit glade, I knew the trees whispered your name in every breeze. Your auburn hair flows like autumn fire, crackling softly with mystery and allure, and your hazel eyes, stars caught in the dew of dawn, have pierced my heart like a well-aimed elven arrow (minus the dying part, thankfully).
Every time you step lightly upon the moss, I swear, the ground blushes. The forest holds its breath when you pass, and so do I, mostly because you’re really tall and I’m trying to keep up.
Your voice rings in my ears like an enchanted lute played by a bard who’s slightly drunk but still somehow amazing. And your laughter? It’s the accompaniment of my dreams, which admittedly also include a few battle rams and talking ravens, but you’re the best part, I promise.
If loving you is a quest, then I accept, with no map, no rations, and probably the wrong boots. I will cross goblin-infested swamps, endure the riddles of cranky wizards, and even face your sour overprotective elven prince if it means I can hold your hand beneath the twilight trees / trees at twilight.
So tell me, fair enchantress: Will you be the moon to my star? The bow to my quiver? The leaf around my lembas?
Forever your slightly shorter but thoroughly devoted admirer,
Kíli, dashat of Víli.”
Bilbo and Víli grimace with every word Kíli utters and he looks up at them expectantly.
“Well?”
“Kíli… It’s um… lovely but… didn’t you two meet during the day?” Bilbo starts, not knowing how to say it is horrible without hurting Kíli’s feelings.
“I’m taking artistic liberties,” Kíli happily explains, and Bilbo just laughs nervously.
Víli on the other hand doesn’t even mince his words. “Dashat… it is shit,”
Kíli pouts at that, “But I poured all of my heart and soul into this, adad!”
“I noticed you didn’t put your head into it though, ” Víli rubs his forehead. “Rewrite it, dashat. Trust me, you need to.”
“What’s wrong with it!?” Kíli asks out loud, still shocked his heartfelt letter is receiving such rejection.
“Dashat, please… Read it to Fíli and he’ll tell you…” Víli says, rubbing his forehead.
Kíli huffs as he walks away with the letter in hand. Víli slumps on the coach looking like his soul has been sucked out of him.
“Are you alright, Víli? Do you need some tea?” Bilbo asks, feeling sorry for his future brother-in-law.
“I need ale,” Víli answers.
Bilbo pauses and chews the inside of his cheeks before he responds, “It’s still early in the morning,” making Víli groan like he is dying.
That is when Thorin comes into the room, looking extremely confused.
“Kíli looked very angry when I passed him in the halls. Is everything alright?”
“He was asking us for opinions on the letter he plans to send to Tauriel,” Bilbo explains, and then gets an idea: “Thorin, do you think you can help him?”
“I don’t think he should, Bilbo,” Víli warns him, much to the hobbit’s confusion and to Thorin’s anger.
“What do you mean? Are you saying I write horribly?” Thorin raises an eyebrow, challenging a retort from Víli.
And Víli does retort by reciting one of his letters from back when he wasn’t courting Bilbo, who was still Frerin’s fiancé at the time,
“‘His eyes are beautiful. Sometimes they are sapphires, the deepest shade of blue. At times, they become amber, like the sweet honey Dís and amad love to use. And then, suddenly, they shift to emerald, a green so vivid it would make even Thranduil envious. Truly, they are indescribable. If I had to compare them to a gem, I’d say he has the Arken-’”
“ALRIGHT YOU PROVED YOUR POINT!” Thorin hastily slams his hands over Víli’s mouth so he doesn’t continue speaking.
Bilbo blinks in confusion at Thorin’s reaction, “You think my eyes are beautiful?”
“Bilbo please, spare me,” Thorin pleads but Bilbo merely giggles at that.
“Oh you sweet, adorable dwarf. I knew you wrote about me to your family but I didn’t know you were making poetry about me. May I see?” Bilbo asks.
“Absolutely not!” Thorin yells back in embarrassment.
“Ask Queen Hrera, she kept them safe,” Víli informs Bilbo, much to Thorin’s horror.
“NO! Bilbo please! I know we promised to never keep secrets from each other but allow me to keep this from you!” Thorin begs and Bilbo shakes his head.
“Honey I love you but I really want to know what you thought of me within the first few days of our meeting,” Bilbo giggles as Thorin’s shoulder sag.
“Oh alright, but please do not tell your parents. I know you would be pleased but your parents, especially your amad would tease me too much”, Thorin once again pleads and Bilbo nods.
“Oh I know my own mother, I promise I won’t tell them”, Bilbo promises much to Thorin’s relief. “Now you came in here for something right? Or were you looking for me?”
“Yes to both actually. I came here to inform you that we would be celebrating your kin’s arrival to the mountain finally. Of course we will wait until more arrives but we are already planning for it,” Thorin informs him and Bilbo smiles at that.
“Oh, you don’t have to welcome us all like that. Though it is true that it’ll please them greatly,” Bilbo chuckles before getting up. “So when do they plan on having it?”
“Actually they plan on celebrating it alongside Durin’s Day,” Thorin informs him, “since they would all be here before winter. And that particular holiday coincides with the first day of the last moon of Autumn on the threshold of Winter. You can see both the sun and moon in the sky together during that day.”
“Really! If I remember my lessons correctly, it also starts the new year for the dwarven calendar, yes?” Bilbo notes and Thorin nods.
“My sigin’adad thought it seemed fitting to celebrate it during that day, for it is also the beginning of a new partnership between Erebor and the Shire,” Thorin smiles as he speaks.
Bilbo feels a tad giddy at the thought: “Well it does sound lovely,” Bilbo presses a quick kiss onto Thorin’s cheeks, “give my thanks to your grandfather.”
“I hope that kiss wasn’t for him too,” Thorin teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and Bilbo laughs.
“No, that’s just for you!” Bilbo playfully smacks his shoulder before squealing in surprise as Thorin suddenly picks him up.
“Good,” Thorin says before pressing a deep kiss to Bilbo’s lips who happily reciprocates, the hobbit opening his lips so Thorin can slide his tongue an-
“Ahem,” Víli reminds them that he is in the same room as them, much to Thorin’s annoyance, demonstrated by his growl of frustration, and Bilbo’s embarrassment. “May I remind you two that you are both unmarried?”
“We’re just making out, Víli,” Thorin bites back and Bilbo scratches Thorin’s beard to calm him, knowing this is just his gold sickness making him angry. It works and Thorin takes control of himself. “My apologies, I lost myself a bit there…”
“It’s alright, your sister is worse. Nearly ripped Glóin’s beard off one time when he interrupted us due to an emergency,” Víli chuckles, “I wonder how Frerin is gonna be when it’s his turn to find his One.”
“Knowing Frerin, he’ll probably be the most depraved one of us. He always flirts with any woman he encounters and loves to go on diplomatic missions to find other women, no matter the race,” Thorin shakes his head. “I love my nadad but I wish he wasn’t such a playboy.”
“Not just women…” Víli remembers when Frerin used to flirt with him just to tease Dís like how he flirts sometimes with Bilbo now to tease Thorin. Course Frerin has stopped flirting with him ever since Dís literally bit his arm. Durins get feral with jealousy because of the gold sickness.
“Speaking of which, Frerin plans on patrolling the new trading routes to help escort the rest of the hobbits travelling to get here”, Bilbo points out, “I know he flirted with a few of my relatives but should I be worried?”
“If anything happens, it will be with consent. Frerin is a flirt but he knows how to take a no”, Thorin explains to Bilbo who nods as a response
“In any case, I hope you all handle whatever nonsense the nobles are up to tonight, cause it has been too long since Dís and I had a date night and we plan on visiting the new Cook’s Guild. I heard from you all how amazing a cook Bombur is from your travels and I am wondering how he is in a real kitchen”, Víli smiles as he hopes tonight will go well. Fíli will be staying over at Glóin’s tonight cause he is asking the dwarf for love advice to get closer to Ori, and Kíli is joining him. After the entire fiasco, his dashshat are once again inseparable unless they get away from each other to pursue their Ones.
“Is it really alright for them to stay over at Glóin’s? I mean, isn’t that a security risk to have the princes stay out of the castle?”, Bilbo asks with a worried expression
“Do not worry, amralime. The citizens of Erebor love the royal family dearly, and have no reason to do anything malicious to us. And even if they did, my irakdashshat are capable warriors as well as my irakdashshat Glóin and his yasthûna Mizim. They are well protected”, Thorin eases Bilbo’s worries as he kisses his forehead, “I am so happy you worry for them as family, Bilbo”
“Well they are, aren’t they? Just not official yet…”, Bilbo blushes hard making Thorin and Víli chuckle
“I am so happy to have you as their newest irak’adad, Bilbo. Now I gotta go and make sure Kíli doesn’t send that horrible letter”, Víli takes his leave, leaving the couple alone.
“Now without my agnât-nadad around, may I enjoy my hobbit?”, Thorin growls out as he pushes Bilbo down to the couch, kissing him softly and Bilbo happily reciprocates.
“Oh you are starved for affection, aren’t you, honey?”, Bilbo moans out as he wraps his arms around his hobbit
“Nothing below the belt!”, Dwalin who has been guarding the entrance of the living room calls to them as soon as he heard the moan
“Yes!”, the two both replies before enjoying each other
After a wonderful makeout session, and to the utter disgust for Dís to discover who broke them off much to Thorin’s growling protest and Bilbo’s embarrassment. Thorin is shooed awat to do princely duties while Dís is going to escort Bilbo and his parents back to Dori who would be sewing their new clothes for the party.
“Wouldn’t our old ones be good? I mean we only wore it once”, Belladonna asks and to her amusement both her husband and son gasps in shock. She forgot they’re both fashionistas with rooms filled with their clothes alone back in Bag End.
“Mama no! Showing up wearing the same outfit so soon? It’ll be blasphemous!”, Bilbo informs her with mild horror
“My love, we would be mocked for centuries if we ever do such a thing!”, Bungo adds, agreeing with their son
Belladonna just rolls her eyes, chuckling, “Oh you two.”
“I agree with them actually, as you are now going to be part of the royal family, even clothes are scrutinized so showing up wearing the same clothes you wore last time will be seen as a weakness”, Dís giggles when Belladonna raises an eyebrow
“Oh alright, it’s not the first time I was forced to watch my boys indulge in fashion”, Belladonna giggles again when her husband and son yells out the indignity of it and how it is only proper to be dressed appropriately for any event. And her relatives say being married to a Baggins is going to be a bore.
It is a noisy time heading to the Weaver Guild, where Dori is already waiting for them. “Welcome back!”
“Glad to be back! Oh the outfits you made for us were to die for, Master Dori!”, Bungo happily gives a compliments
“It looked amazing and it felt so good to the skin as well! Not at all restrictive!”, adds Bilbo with the same enthusiasm as his father
“Oh you two! You both act like you haven’t been visiting me since”, Dori waves off their compliments, chuckling.
“So how is Ori?”, Belladonna asks, trying to move away from clothing talk.
“Oh my naddith is doing well now, thank you for asking! It seems the prince is finally behaving and to me and Nori’s surprise, it seems Ori does seem to enjoy his company now when he isn’t being a creep. No offense, your highness”, Dori quickly adds, remember Dís, the mother of that said prince is there with them.
“None taken, Guildmaster Dori. My dashat was behaving poorly, so your words ring true either way”, Dís of course waves it all off, “Do feel free to report to me if he ever acts up again.”
“Oh that goes without saying your majesty”, Dori replies with a grin that causes Bilbo to shiver in fear. He wonders if he’d be this protective if he had any younger siblings, or if he’d be so protected if he had any older siblings.
Ever curious, Bilbo suddenly whispers to Dís, “Um Dís, does Nori’s family know about his real job and not that of a scribe?”
“Oh yes they do, they have to so they can protect themselves in case Nori gets caught. Of course Nori doesn’t share them any state secrets, but they know his position and how it can affect their family. Of course for us dwarrow it is considered a great honor”, Dís replies with a normal tone causing Dori to chuckle
“Nori had a penchant to sneak off to who knows where growing up so at least with that position his hobbies actually are useful instead of joining into any crime gang. We are proud. But of course anyone who knows about his real job, that isn’t connected to the royal family, we do our best to silence them permanently”, Dori smiles sweetly as the axe on his hips glints dangerously. Bilbo does wonder why every dwarrow carry weapons even in the safety of their mountain. He remembers Thorin and the others not carrying any back in the Shire, but Thorin did show him the hidden knives all around his person one time.
“Well we hobbits can keep secrets so we’ll be fine”, Belladonna happily informs them, “Bilbo might have told you all about the noodles and the ingredients but nothing quite so specific. We are very protective of our family recipes.”
It is true, many back in the Cook’s Guild has tried recreating the dish but none has ever achieved the level of spice as the one Bilbo made.
“Of course we would be sharing it with you Dís as we would be family. Víli and Frerin seems to both enjoy it now that they know how to handle it”, Bungo chuckles as he remembers Frerin asking for the dish before he went off to escort the other hobbits.
“It is delicious despite the pain. Actually the pain makes it delicious”, Dís admits and Dori grimaces
“I tried an attempt and I coughed up a storm. Never again”, Dori shakes his head, “Ah! But enough chit chat! Come! Let’s go ahead and dress you all up! Now I believe I perfected the waistcoats you all seem so fond off!”
“Oh excellent! Me and Papa really do love our waistcoats”, Bilbo giggles
“Actually Dori, do you think you can make the rest of the royal family, these waistcoats?”, Dís asks, “You see since this Durin’s Day is about celebrating the welcome of the hobbits, I think it is appropriate we try out their clothes. It’ll also give Bilbo here an eyeful of Thorin in hobbit clothes”
“Oh Dís! Stop!... I admit I am intrigued by the idea”, Bilbo honestly says, turning red, “Would you all go barefoot?”
“Of course! It won’t be a proper hobbit attire if we wear shoes! Of course we would have the entire halls carpeted for the occasion”, Dís proudly replies
“Oh! Dís you would look lovely! It’s just a blouse layered with a bodice and then a skirt!”, Belladonna happily smiles, “I know you favor pants like your brothers Dís but I do believe it’ll compliment your figure really well!”
“Oh you think so? Well I only wear pants for their practicality, but it is a celebration!”, Dís giggles, “Actually Dori, do you think you have one prepared for someone of my size? Me and Víli are having a date tonight and I would wish to surprise him”
“Princess Dís, sadly I do not but I can quickly make one! I did not become the guildmaster of the Weaver’s Guild for nothing! Ah but that does mean I would have to delay the Baggins’ clothes though, would that be alright?”, Dori inquires with a solemn expression as if believing he already disappointed Bungo and Bilbo
“My friend, this is for a date! We can wait!”, Bilbo happily answers
“While I do not understand dwarrow’s beauty standards, for us hobbits she is a beauty! But with your clothes Dori, you will make her shine! Go on! Work your magic!”, Bungo encourages Dori who beams and happily begins.
Víli waits in one of the balconies of the Cook’s Guild. The Guild like many others function as a place of business like the Smith’s Guild being also an armory and the Weaver’s Guild being a boutique, the Cook’s Guild is also a restaurant run by its most talented members. Víli is thankful the meeting with the traders ran short and he was able to get here and relax for a bit as he waits. He knows Dís wouldn’t willingly stood him up but he also knows her own tasks can take more time than intended so they devised a system of sorts for whenever that happens. If an hour pass by after they intended to begin, they are free to leave or do something else without worry. During the start of their relationship, Víli waited for more than just an hour before he realized that it was futile really, since he also experienced the effects of being royalty. Now that they’re married and he knows better to not wait and enjoy his time alone. Just because he and Dís are Ones doesn’t mean they stop having a life outside of each other.
He expects Dís to arrive late, which is the norm due to them being royalty, but he is surprised to see her arrive early instead. And his jaw drops at the sight of her. Dís often favors pants due to practicality and only wear dresses during parties, and Víli never minds it. But right now Dís is wearing a colored cream dress with bejeweled with tiny diamonds, coupled with a puffy blouse with the same shade, layered with blue bodice, also equally bejeweled with tiny diamonds. The outfit is simple compared to her elaborate dresses for parties but still it is beautiful on her. Her hair and beard is braided not with traditional dwarven braids which are mostly geometric in shapes but in floral patterns, aside from the braids signalling her status of course. She spins around with a flourish as she asks, “What do you think? The Baggins and Guildmaster Dori both helped me!”
“It’s… different”, Víli says as his mind stops working and then quickly went on overdrive when Dís gives him a hard look, “Not bad different! You look good in it! Of course I don’t mean you normally look bad! Though you already know your family is considered unsigh-I mean even I am considered unsigh-I’ll stop talking now”, Víli groans as he bangs his head on the table with a sigh
Dís merely giggles as she lifts his head up by his chin and gives him a soft kiss on his lips, “Thank you darling. Now shall we have dinner away from the family?”
“I would like that”, Víli smiles as he calls for waiter.
Their dinner begins with a drink called a Zzar, two cocktails arrive, creamy and layered, with a velvety tan base topped by a cloud of softly whipped cream. It exudes a rich almond and coffee aroma, delivering a smooth, sweet taste with nutty warmth and mellow coffee liqueur.
Next comes the appetizer, aptly named Plate-of-Gold. Delicately crispy tempura glistens under a light, airy batter that crackles with each bite, releasing earthy aromas from mushrooms and sweet notes from potato and onion. A glossy sweet-and-sour sauce adds a tangy, fruity fragrance and a bold, balanced burst of jammy sweetness, mellow heat, and umami richness.
The soup course features Potato Leek Soup, velvety and pale golden. It is rich and creamy with a gentle herbal aroma from thyme and leeks, offering a comforting, earthy taste and a savory finish, punctuated by smoky, crisp bacon crumbles. Served alongside is Dwarven Flatbread, warm and golden with a rustic, dappled surface. It smells of toasted herbs and olive oil, offering a tender, chewy bite with a crisp edge, infused with savory, aromatic depth and comforting richness.
For the entrée, they enjoy Orange Mountain Duck. Sliced and fanned over a glossy orange-brandy glaze, the duck is richly browned and succulent with crispy skin. It exudes a warm citrus and thyme aroma, offering a luxurious balance of tender, savory meat, sweet-tart orange, mellow heat, and a silken butter-enriched finish.
Their side dish is Bangers and Smash. Golden and rustic, this vibrant sheet pan medley bursts with color and aroma, crisp-edged smashed potatoes, sweet roasted leeks, juicy blistered tomatoes, and sizzling sausages combine into a savory blend that smells herbaceous and hearty, and tastes rich, earthy, and deeply satisfying with every bite.
For dessert, they indulge in Black Pudding. This rich, velvety treat appears deep mocha-brown, with an intense aroma of roasted espresso and dark chocolate. It offers a silky, bittersweet bite laced with warm notes of vanilla, coffee liqueur, and brandy.
They end their dinner with a final drink: Dwarven Mulled Wine. Glowing a deep ruby red, it exudes a warm, citrusy-spice aroma with hints of clove and cinnamon, and delivers a smooth, gently sweet sip bursting with orange, mellow red wine, and a cozy undercurrent of brandy.
Now, while Dís and Víli have always believed their dwarrow kin who work in the kitchen possess a worthy craft, actually tasting and experiencing that craftsmanship firsthand is another matter entirely. They’ve never felt so full and content, aside from when Bilbo and his parents cook. The realization that their kin can rival hobbits in culinary excellence fills them with deep pride.
“Wow… that was amazing”, Víli burps out
“Bombur hasn’t started making meals for the royal family since he still has to stablize this new Guild but I am lookin forward to when he finally does”, Dís replies with a huge smile
“After this I’m unsure if I can move but… I would like to try”, Víli gives Dís a look that makes her hungry for an entirely different reason
“Shall we walk off our meal, as we head home? I’m sure by then you can move”, Dís winks and Víli lets out a laugh as together they walk back home, both excited for a night of passion. But by the time they got home they see Thorin and Dwalin, trying to put out a fire inside the royal kitchens, and both know they aren’t going to have that passionate night. Welp, at least they got a good dinner first.
Time passes and everything gets colder as winter gets closer, and more hobbits finally arrive at Erebor. Including Drogo and Primula, escorted by Frerin.
“Oh cousins! What are you all doing here? What about Bag End?”, Bilbo asks as he welcomes them at the gate.
“Oh cousin Fortinbras is watching over it! He wants you to consider it as an apology for marrying you off without your say so, and that he knows that you wouldn’t want someone like him in the wedding”, Primula answers with a soft sad smile
“Oh Fortinbras… Of course I would have wanted him to be at my wedding. I wouldn’t have met Thorin if it wasn’t for his decision. True I was mad for a time but now I am very happy”, Bilbo sighs as he shakes his head
“He knew you were going to say something like that so he also said that since he is Thain he couldn’t exactly leave the Shire while it is getting near the winter months, and that he has to make sure the dwarrow, Erebor sent has proper accommodations so don’t think too badly about his absence”, Drogo happily adds, “Also there is someone here who wants to see you as well”
That is when a familiar hobbit shows himself and Bilbo smiles widely, “Holman Greenhand! At your service, your majesty!”, the gardener of Bag End bows before Bilbo who merely laughs
“My friend! Don’t you ever do that again! It’s been so long since I last saw you!”, Bilbo pulls his friend up, “I am so glad you will be here for the wedding! Oh but will Hamfast be alright without you?”
“Bah! Nothing much would need gardening during the winter! Hamfast will be fine by himself! Not to mention that Gaffer is talented! I’m sure when spring comes he knows what to do”, Holman replies happily
“As sweet as all this is, I am pained you didn’t even say hello to me, Bilbo! I thought we were family!”, Frerin dramatically sighs and Bilbo rolls his eyes with a chuckle
“I am so glad I am not marrying him”, Bilbo whispers to his fellow hobbits at a volume that Frerin can definitely hear
“Oy! I am a catch amongst the dwarrow!”, Frerin retorts with a playful huff
“Not true. Amongst their kin, Thorin and his family is considered ugly. Frerin included”, Bilbo informs his fellow hobbits who look at Frerin with raised eyebrows
“Really? I think Frerin looks handsome”, Holman says, and Frerin smirks
“If I wasn’t married already, I would have asked him out”, Primula says with a nod
“HONEY!?”, Drogo yells out in shock
“Oh I don’t mind being a third in the bedroom”, Frerin gives the couple a wink and Primula blushes while Drogo looks horrified
“Back off, Frerin! I’m telling your mother about this!”, Bilbo shoos him away while Frerin laughs as he walks into the mountain. Bilbo happily leads his fellow hobbits in, introducing them to a few shops he enjoys, and to the dwarrow he made friends with.
When they arrive at the castle, the hobbits are welcomed with great enthusiasm. “They’re rather lively!”, Holman comments with a laugh
“Wait till the official celebration!”, Bilbo replies with a grin as Thorin wraps an arm around Bilbo, giving Holman a glare. Bilbo laughs it off as he kisses Thorin’s cheek who easily relaxes. “Sorry Holman, Thorin gets possessive”
“I can see that”, Holman laughs, clearly undisturbed by Thorin’s glare as it happened before back when Thorin and his siblings still stayed over at Bag End.
“While you are all here, perhaps you can help us prepare things for the celebration”, Dís inquires and the hobbits all cheer.
With more hobbits around to help plan the celebration, and of course the food provided by their coming, made everything easier. Of course since Durin’s Day is an important celebration for dwarrow some things are kept the same for example prayers, rituals, and competitions. Though they did add some hobbitish games like conkers where when they showed how, Bilbo and Drogo practically demolished them all, with only the father and son giving each other a worthy challenge, and some hobbit dancing which all hobbits, including Thorin and his siblings happily showed. Compared to dwarrow dancing it included a lot of jumping and throwing one’s partner, and seems far more rigorous, making it a far more freeing experience.
And of course there are the exchanging of recipes, though the hobbits are very extreme in protecting their so called family recipes. Though Thorin already knows some of the Baggins’ and Took’s family recipes since Bilbo has already shared them with him due to them being fiances and soon would be family, he is sworn to secrecy not to share. No matter how much better the sweets would be if he shared them, he has to keep it to himself!
Time passes by quickly, filled with the usual paperwork, shenanigans, and embarrassment as Bilbo found out about the burned kitchen incident from Dís who couldn’t keep her mouth shut for the life of her! Durin’s Day finally arrives much to the joy of every dwarf, and the excitement of every hobbit who arrived for the occasion.
Bilbo during that day is shaking due to his nerves. Many of the more traditional dwarrow abhor the fact that they’re sharing one of their most sacred holidays with the hobbits, so Bilbo has to play his part extremely well! To appease those traditionalist all the rituals and prayers will be held in the morning without any participation with the hobbits, and in the afternoon will be the celebrations. And this means speaking more in Khuzdul cause since he is now part of the royal family, he is exempted and encouraged to participate! His Khuzdul which indeed he has been practicing but his accent makes it sound soft according to his friends and lover. Though they can easily understand him, he knows it’ll be scrutinized by those who view him as nothing more than a blight on the royal family. He hopes Tauriel, Kíli’s intended is faring better than he is.
“Bilbo, are you feeling alright?”, Frís asks as everyone can see the hobbit vibrating due to his nerves.
“C-Compared to the short speeches I had done before, this is entirely different. I don’t think I can do it!”, Bilbo says to his future great grandmother in law who merely chuckles
“Agnât-dashat, you’ll do fine. Your Khuzdul is amazing despite your soft accent. In fact… You’re horrifyingly good at it.”, Frís says with a smile. Honestly the fact that Bilbo could do speeches in a entirely new language in just a few short months is nothing short but outstanding. It would take anyone else to do it after years of learning but Bilbo did it so quickly it was amazing. Even more amazing was Drogo who can converse in Khuzdul almost perfectly in the same timeframe. Belladonna on the other hand is learning at a good pace too but nothing quite as extraordinary as her dashat and yasthûn. “I have never met anyone to grasp the language in such a short amount of time. It can be considered terrifying to say the least”
“You exaggerate, queen consort Frís. It took me a year to perfect my Quenya…”, Bilbo says shyly not understanding that statement only solidifies Frís’ belief.
“Amralime, can you come over here and tell this hobbit his Khuzdul is amazing?,”, Frís looks at Thráin who has been watching silently since he is unsure what to even add to the conversation.
“Terrifyingly so”, Thráin says, just blurting out his feelings
“See?”, Frís chuckles while Bilbo shakes his head in fear.
“B-But I can’t sing!”, Bilbo yells out in fear, cause he isn’t going to make a speech. King Thrór would do it. Instead he was asked to sing a song of reverence!
“Oh shush, Thorin said you sung wonderfully”, Frís laughs as she pushes Bilbo towards the stage. Bilbo nearly screamed.
“... And to celebrate this Durin’s Day, the newest member of our royal family will be the one to lead the Song of Durin”, King Thrór proudly declares as Queen Hrera grabs Bilbo to place him infront of the stage. All eyes are on him and Bilbo shakes in fear.
The rest of the royal family are nearby and Bilbo can see Thorin mouth to him, “You’ll do fine, lukhdel”. Bilbo finds himself smiling as he takes a deep breath and begin singing. Unlike most dwarrow who’s voices are usually a wonderful bass, Bilbo’s voice is a common tenor, yet if Thorin believes that he can do well, then he’ll have confidence. So he sings with all of his emotions.
“The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head.
The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin's Day.
A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.
There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built.
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard.
Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
And at the gates the trumpets rang.
The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.”
Bilbo ends the song… COMPLETELY TERRIFIED OUT OF HIS MIND! Because he was asked to lead the song, meaning the rest of the dwarrow should have been singing along! Yet from start to finish, NO ONE SANG WITH HIM! He quickly leaves his spot and stands next to Thorin, face red, holding back tears of embarrassment.
Eldeth is internally screaming as she hears the hobbit singing! It was so beautiful and lovely that everyone collectively didn’t want to stop interrupt it and just watched and listened the hobbit sing! His reputation is skyrocketing! No one told her that Bilbo Baggins was a musician!
Due to Arda being created through the song of the Valar, music is highly regarded, and of course those with professions involving such a sacred act is seen with reverence as well.
Eldeth can even see the most stubborn traditionalists who initially complained about Bilbo leading the reverence sung has fallen silent, with a few with tears in their eyes. As much as she abhors the fact that the hobbit is once again gaining reputation, she cannot hate him since any dwarf here heard how he genuinely feels about Durin! What kind of dwarf would she be if she felt hate for someone like that!?
With her reputation in the gutter, and with Bilbo’s growing stronger and stronger each day she knows there is practically no way she can possibly hope to win Thorin back. She should have known it was inevitable since Ones were considered bonds forged by Mahal himself that it is sacred, that laws are made to accomodate them should Ones from different backgrounds and regions ever meet. But now she truly feels that loss.
Perhaps she should follow the advice she gave to Falkrunn. That she should just let go and enjoy herself rather than wallow in resentment and anger. Perhaps she can go travel and perhaps one day she’ll meet her One and live happily. Perhaps then she can finally live her own life. She could be happy and-
“Do not worry, nâtha. I will fix this.”, a deep voice startles Eldeth out of her thoughts, making her turn around to look into the eyes of her father. Her father, Einkil used to have black hair and beard like her, but due to age, it is more silver than anything, is as thick and luxurious as one can hope to achieve, braided in numerous ways to show his lineage, status, and of course for fashion. But the golden hue of his eyes are as bright as hers. No one can deny her parentage.
“Adad, what do you mean?”, she asks cautiously, and in a whisper for her father spoke with a dangerous edge to his voice.
“Many dwarrow simply do not like the idea of a halfling being part of the royal family, including me. We’ve been working together to chase him away. However it seems that will no longer work. So instead, we’ll be using extreme measures. I trust you will keep quiet about this, nâtha”, he says it like a question but Eldeth knows it isn’t one. His golden eyes staring down at her. All she could do is nod.
“Of course, Adad. I will not utter a word”, she answers, wondering where her kind Adad went.
“Good. After tonight, your rightful place as Thorin’s consort will be restored. Do not lose it again”, Einkil walks away towards a group of dwarrow who are outright glaring at Bilbo. Eldeth is no stranger to assassination plots and the like, but she abhors them. Such underhanded plots like that have no real honor, and to her it is just admitting defeat in the game of politics. And most often than not, it ends the life of people who don’t deserve it. Bilbo Baggins, despite him stealing Thorin from her, is not at fault for having him as his One. She could go to the royal family to warn them about tonight but… That would mean going up against her Adad, the dwarf who raised and loved her all those years before. She can’t possibly betray him. So with a heavy heart, she stays silent.
With the ceremony over, comes the celebration. With shortage of food now no longer a problem, the festivities are more joyful than last time. And now the mountain isn’t barred from the other races since the ritualistic parts are over, elves, men, and of course hobbits swarm all around the place. Much to Bilbo’s surprise, the plan for the royal family to dress up in hobbitish clothing seems to have taken popularity as other people seems to have dressed up in waistcoats, blouses, bodices, and of course no shoes.
“Thorin! Look how dainty your feet are!”, Bilbo exclaims in surprise as he is so used to seeing Thorin as this rugged figure that for him to possess such tiny feet (for his race) is such a shock.
“Bilbo! They’re not dainty! And you had plenty of chances to see them before! Why comment on them now?”, Thorin yells in embarrassment, feeling a tad defensive
“Well during those times, I was more focus on your handsome face and muscles so forgive me. But look at how tiny they are!”, Bilbo says as he continues staring at them
“They’re not tiny! They’re perfectly the normal size for us dwarrow! Yours is just gigantic compared to yourself”, Thorin huffs before he blushes as Bilbo shyly smiles, giggling. He forgot having big feet is considered desirable so he just flirted with him.
“Oh you! Making me red in public”, Bilbo happily throws himself into Thorin’s arms, “Your feet are dainty, my love. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. They’re yours and I love them.”
“Even without hair?”, Thorin asks, blushing still
“You got enough hair on everywhere else, darling”, Bilbo replies in a dreamy voice, “And you in a waistcoat makes you look dashing! Which isn’t a hard thing to do for you always look dashing in anything you wear”
“Amralime…”, Thorin grabs a piece of cut apple and presses it onto Bilbo’s lips, knowing what it means to hobbits
Bilbo happily eats off his fingers, smiling bashfully but never letting go of Thorin.
“COUSIN!”, cries out Drogo in horror at their blatant public display of affection.
“Relax honey. They’re engaged, that level of affection is perfectly acceptable”, Primula happily says as she looks at Thorin and Bilbo, before they start making out right there at the dining table. When Thorin pulls Bilbo onto his lap Primula then adds, “Alright, now it isn’t”
At another part of the table, Holman is happily telling tales from Bilbo’s childhood. “Oh you should have seen how quick Bilbo was when he was a faunt. He says he’s no thief but the amount of pies he stole for our small circle of friends was uncountable! Everyday, without fail, he would always nab a pie from someone and the little thief would use his manners and blame it all on us when he gets caught!”
“Oh Belladonna told us about this! Bilbo sounds to be quite a proficient burglar!”, Frerin laughs
“Perhaps we should ask Nori to take him under his wing”, Dís’ eyes seems to shine with mischief
“Can we join?”, Kíli asks hopefully
“No”, came Víli’s quick reply before he looks around to find his eldest who said he was going to eat with the Ris in order to get closer to his One. And there he sees them along with the Fundin brothers.
Dori and Balin seems to be whispering sweet nothings to each other as they both seem slightly red in the face and giggling. Dwalin and Nori are flatout… humping each other… And then there is Ori and his son Fíli awkwardly talking to each other. Víli’s eyes widen when he notices Ori is blushing. Seems like Ori is far more forgiving than he was with Dís it seems.
He is also proud Kíli is doing better without his brother around. Sure it is good that they’re so close to one another but he doesn’t want them to be dependent on one another.
As he thinks that Thrór, Hrera, Thráin, Frís, Bungo and Belladona joins the table having left earlier to talk with the other hobbitish merchants who are already planning about the next trade and with the smiles on their faces it seems to be an extremely productive. All six pauses when they notice Bilbo and Thorin flatout making out at the table. Thráin, Thrór, and Bungo looks mildly disturbed while Hrerain, Frís, and Belladonna merely laughs.
“Oh don’t spoil them, let them have their fun”, Belladonna giggles as she grabs Bungo and pull him down to set, before she puts some food into his mouth before he can complain. Bungo glares at her half heatedly as he chews
“Surely we weren’t as bad as them right?”, Thráin mumbles as he sits down
“Oh we were worse, darling”, Frís laughs, clearly enjoying the memory
Thrór shakes his head as he looks around, seeing his friends, kin, his subjects, and allies all laughing, care free and happy. “We did good, didn’t we amralime?”
“Yes we did, now come down and eat with us”, Hrera chuckles as she pulls Thrór to the table so he can eat as well
The group laughs as they eat together, happily enjoying each other’s presence. Soon the music starts and couples quickly stand up and dance with one another. Months ago, Bilbo would never imagine he would be so happy here in Erebor. Before he always thought he was going to be trapped, all alone with no one to talk to. Yet here he is, dancing in the arms of his Companion. He can never imagine how lucky he is, but he gives his thanks to Yavanna and Aulë— sorry, Mahal for this blessing.
With all the dancing, celebrating, and food, Bilbo soon yawns loudly and blushes. He is a middle aged hobbit after all, and isn’t as young as he used to be. Thorin chuckles as he kisses his sleepy hobbit, “Shall we go to bed?”
“Really? We can sleep together again?”, Bilbo asks with a hopeful smile. It is true that Thorin and Bilbo sleeps together often, but because Thorin is a prince and has his royal duties, there are many days when they couldn’t and Bilbo has to sleep alone.
Thorin nods happily, “Yes, we can sleep together. And no Dwalin, Nori, we’re just going to sleep, get your mind out of the gutter”, Thorin noticing Dwalin and Nori who is dancing near them, quickly stops them from catcalling them.
But they still catcall as Thorin carries Bilbo away, heading to their room. Bilbo happily presses himself onto Thorin’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as he says, “I love you”
“I love you as well, Bilbo”, Thorin smiles as they go to bed together
In the bedroom, Bilbo hums a soft tune as he changes into his nightclothes. Thorin, as always, sits shirtless on the bed, waiting for him. They always sleep in Bilbo’s room, cozier than Thorin’s, thanks to Bilbo’s redecorating. Besides, Balin, long accustomed to finding Thorin in his own chambers, always checks there first before coming to Bilbo’s to wake the prince.
Once dressed, Bilbo crawls under the blankets and into Thorin’s arms, happily snuggling close. “Good night, honey.”
“Good night, amralime,” Thorin murmurs, kissing him softly before pulling the blanket over them. Normally they don’t need the covers, Thorin runs warm enough to keep Bilbo cozy, and dwarrow don’t chill easily, but with winter approaching, the blanket is welcome.
They fall asleep wrapped up in one another, safe and content, while the celebration outside continues into the night.
Hours later, when the festivities have died down, one of the false walls in Bilbo’s room silently swings open. A hooded figure, cloaked in black, slips inside. They scan the room, moving quietly to the desk and rifling through its contents. When they find what they’re looking for, Thorin’s ring and the bead he gave Bilbo, they pocket them. Then they creep toward the bed, drawing a dagger, ready to strike.
At least, that’s what’s supposed to happen.
But Thorin, trained to wake at the slightest sound, stirs the moment the wall opens. As the intruder raises the dagger, Thorin explodes into action, landing a solid kick to the figure’s chest. They stumble backward and hit the floor with a thud.
“Who dares attack my other half!?” Thorin roars, leaping onto the intruder. But the figure rolls away, agile and fast, springing to their feet and drawing a second dagger. Dual-wielding now, they square off with Thorin. Unarmed, Thorin drops into a fighting stance, eyeing the blades with focus and fury.
He positions himself between the intruder and both Bilbo and the open wall. Whoever this is, they’re not after him, they came for Bilbo.
The attacker lunges. Blades flash as they strike again and again, and Thorin weaves, dodging with swift, controlled movements. He slaps their wrists aside to keep the daggers from landing and counters with his fists, but the reach difference keeps him just shy of connecting.
“Damn you!” he snarls, frustration mounting as the intruder relentlessly drives him back. He feels the bed’s frame press against the backs of his legs, he’s boxed in.
The attacker seizes the opening and pounces.
But suddenly, a blur rushes past Thorin and slams into the assailant, knocking them to the ground. The daggers clatter against the stone floor.
“Bilbo!” Thorin cries, stunned.
Bilbo straddles the assailant’s chest, furiously pummeling their face with a pillow.
“You will not touch my dwarf!” he yells with each strike. The blows don’t do real damage, but they throw the intruder off-balance, dazing them in a storm of feathers and rage. The attacker grabs Bilbo’s nightshirt and hurls him off. Bilbo cries out as he’s thrown, his head cracking against the edge of the bed.
Thorin sees the blood trickling down Bilbo’s temple, and then, he sees red.
The assailant scrambles to their feet and quickly draws two more daggers from their belt, just as Thorin charges. Expecting Thorin to dodge or deflect the blow like before, the assailant lunges to stab, but is caught off guard when Thorin grabs their wrist instead.
With one of Thorin’s hands occupied holding the attacker’s wrist, and both of the assailant’s hands still armed, they manage to drive a dagger into Thorin’s shoulder. The blade sinks deep into flesh.
They expect Thorin to recoil in pain. Instead, he yanks them closer and slams his forehead into theirs. The brutal headbutt sends the assailant stumbling back, daggers clattering to the floor once again. But Thorin doesn’t stop. He lunges forward, headbutting them a second time with a sickening crack that drops the attacker to the ground.
Thorin straddles them and pins them in place, then begins to pummel their face with his fists, rage unleashed.
“HOW DARE YOU INJURE MY ONE!?” he bellows, slamming a fist into the assailant’s eye.
“HOW DARE YOU TRY TO TAKE HIS LIFE!?” he roars, driving his knuckles into their jaw.
“DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’VE TRIED TO DO!?” he shouts, raising both fists and bringing them down hard on the assailant’s nose.
Again and again, the blows fall. The assailant tries to shield their head, arms raised in defense, but Thorin, blinded by fury, grabs one of their arms and snaps it with a crack. The attacker screams. He grabs the other and breaks that too.
Thorin grins as the assailant writhes in pain, muttering a desperate plea for mercy in Khuzdul.
“Mercy?” Thorin laughs darkly. “Mercy!? YOU WILL FIND NO MERCY FROM ME!”
He reaches for the dagger still lodged in his own shoulder, yanks it free with a wet, tearing sound, and raises it high, ready to drive it into the assailant’s face.
But then he hears it.
“Thorin?” Bilbo’s soft voice cuts through the haze.
In an instant, Thorin’s rage evaporates. He drops the blade, scrambles off the assailant, and rushes to Bilbo’s side.
“Bilbo! Amralime! Are you alright!?” he cries, gathering him into his arms. “Don’t fall asleep! Please, stay with me!”
“I feel dizzy…” Bilbo murmurs, his eyes fluttering as he struggles to stay conscious. That’s when Dwalin, Glóin, Óin, and several guards burst into the room.
“Your Majesty!” Óin rushes forward. He resembles his brother Glóin, though his hair is streaked with silver rather than bright auburn. The healer immediately drops to his knees beside Thorin and Bilbo, pulling a clean cloth from his satchel and pressing it gently to Bilbo’s bleeding temple.
“Firm, but gentle pressure, Your Majesty,” Óin instructs quickly.
Thorin obeys at once, pressing the cloth to Bilbo’s head with shaking hands, tears pooling in his eyes. He whispers softly, “Please… stay with me.”
Glóin hauls the unconscious assailant up by the collar, dragging them out to be thrown into the dungeons. Meanwhile, Dwalin and the other guards vanish through the secret opening in the wall, their weapons drawn, searching for any other threats or hidden paths.
“We have to get him to the medical rooms, Your Majesty, now,” Óin says sharply.
Thorin nods, swallowing hard, and lifts Bilbo in his arms. He follows close behind the healer, trying to keep Bilbo steady as they move through the halls.
“Please stay awake, Bilbo. Please…” Thorin pleads, watching his beloved’s eyelids flutter weakly.
“Let him sleep,” Óin says. “It’s better for him if he’s not awake through the pain.”
They reach the medical ward. Thorin gently lays Bilbo down on the nearest bed as Óin barks in Khuzdul, his voice booming through the chambers.
“WAKE UP! THE FUTURE PRINCE CONSORT IS INJURED!”
Assistants scramble into action. Many were already roused by the noise, but a few stumble out, bleary-eyed and panicked, rushing to gather supplies.
“What can I do?” Thorin asks, desperate, his voice tight with helplessness.
“Go. Tell his parents he’ll be alright,” Óin says firmly, ushering Thorin out of the room. When Thorin tries to turn back, Óin slams the door in his face.
Thorin stands frozen for a moment before turning. Down the hall, he sees Bungo and Belladonna hurrying toward him, their faces etched with worry.
“Will he be alright?” Bungo asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes… yes, he will be…” Thorin tries to speak calmly, to comfort them, but his voice cracks. The words falter as the weight of it all crashes down on him. “He has to be. I can’t—I can’t lose him…”
Belladonna and Bungo don’t hesitate. They step forward and wrap their arms around him, letting the dwarven prince collapse into their embrace. He sobs, heartbroken and overwhelmed. This should be his duty, to comfort them , but instead, he weeps like a broken thing. And no one tells him he shouldn’t. No one tells him to be strong. Because they feel it too. They all hope for one thing: that Bilbo will survive.
The rest of Bilbo’s family arrives not long after, all still in their sleepwear, their faces pale with fear. When they see Thorin crying in the arms of the hobbits, they do not speak. Instead, they join the embrace, surrounding him with warmth and silent support.
Thráin steps forward, cupping his son’s face and gently kissing away his tears. “Dashat… your One is strong. Believe in him.”
“I will try, Adad…” Thorin whispers, trembling in his father's arms. “I will try.”
Thrór rests a heavy hand on his grandson’s head, eyes solemn. “Sigin-dashat… what do you wish to do?”
Thorin says nothing at first. He sobs once, then twice more, his entire body quaking. And then, his hands curl into fists.
A low growl rises from his throat, raw and guttural. His eyes blaze with unrelenting fury, and when he finally speaks, his voice is unrecognizable: a feral snarl, wild and primal.
“ Revenge. ”
His chest heaves, his breath sharp like a cornered beast. There’s nothing regal in his stance now, only rage, and pain, and the promise of vengeance. His teeth bare in a snarl. His eyes shine with the kind of fury that shakes stone.
Not even a king. Not even a warrior.
Right now, Thorin is a predator.
And someone is going to pay.