Chapter Text
When Frodo Baggins’ parents were killed in an awful drowning accident, there was the usual talk of what was to be done with him.
His relatives all gathered in Bag End, and after a full lunch immediately began discussing Frodo amongst themselves, seeming to forget entirely that the tiny hobbit was even in the room. The Brandybucks, a kind, generous lot from his mother’s side of the family, offered warmly to take him and house him with them. This was generally agreed to be the best idea, as Frodo was still very young and none of the rest of them felt as equipped to raise him. Brandy Hall was usually full of children, they all agreed, and surely Frodo would feel most at home there.
Frodo scowled to himself where he sat, kicking his legs irritably. He liked Brandy Hall, of course he did, but it wasn’t home. Home was Bag End, which his cousin Bilbo had gifted to his father and mother upon their marriage and where Frodo had grown up. Home was Hobbiton, its rolling hills and its markets and its people. He did not want to leave this place that he loved, the only home that he'd ever known. He knew better than to say so, however. The Brandybucks were being awfully generous to open up their household to him, and it would hurt their feelings if he were to seem ungrateful. He only allowed himself the scowl and kick because he knew that no one was actually paying him any attention.
Which wasn’t quite true, he noted as the conversation continued to flow around him. There was at least one person in the room who had not forgotten that he was there.
Cousin Bilbo was watching him intently, his brow furrowed with concern. When Frodo met his eyes, he gave him a small smile. Frodo smiled back, relieved that it had been Bilbo who had caught his moment of selfishness, as he was the only one who would not think it so. Bilbo was a bit of an oddity in Hobbiton, the Baggins who had run off with a bunch of dwarves – and then instead of coming back, had stayed on with them and given away his home to a distant cousin instead of the local Sackville-Bagginses, who everyone knew had had their eye on Bag End for years (though privately the neighbors would whisper over garden walls that they were quite happy with the way things had turned out. If Bilbo refused to do the sensible thing and return home at least he hadn’t burdened them with Lobelia). He was a known adventurer and consorter with dwarves and elves, and for a wonder seemed to have broken the Took Curse despite turning out to be far more Tookish than he’d seemed. This, combined with the fact that whenever he did visit he would bring with him an assortment of his new friends, caused most of the hobbits his own age to give him a wide berth. The children, however, loved him, and Frodo was no exception. Though he was more reserved than the other young hobbits he looked forward to Bilbo’s yearly visit with as much enthusiasm as any of them. Bilbo was usually the only one who could coax Frodo into acting like the youth he was, and when he visited the two of them would often find themselves getting into the kind of scrapes that had his mother and father shaking their heads and sighing...but always with an amused twinkle in their eyes.
His eyes shifted to the window, and to the dwarf sitting outside. Most of the other hobbit children loved Fili and Kili for their merriment and troublemaking, or Gloin and his son Gimli, who would laugh in loud voices and swing the small hobbits up on their shoulders, and Frodo liked them as well; but his favorite of Bilbo’s friends was seldom able to visit with him. It was always difficult for the King of Erebor to take so much time away from his kingdom.
He had come along with Bilbo this time, however, and now Frodo thought that he would much prefer going outside to sit with him over staying in here and hearing himself discussed as though he weren’t present and aware. He glanced at the others out of the corner of his eye. They were still talking and paying him no mind. He caught Bilbo’s gaze; his cousin gave him a wink and tilted his head towards the door. Frodo gave him a nod and slid off of his chair.
Once outside, he breathed a little easier. He didn’t like to hear everyone arguing about where he was to go and what was to become of Bag End. They all seemed to have forgotten that his parents were gone forever, that he was alone and heartbroken and wasn’t interested in listening as everyone else made his decisions for him.
Thorin gave Frodo a small smile when he approached, and patted the bench next to him companionably. Frodo took the offer, placing himself beside Thorin and leaning into his side. A heavy arm wrapped around him, and Frodo fought against the tears that sprung to his eyes. He didn’t want to cry now, not where anyone might come out and see. He preferred to grieve in his room, away from prying eyes and questions.
He sniffled. Thorin’s arm tightened around him. “They will be gone soon,” he murmured, “and then you can breathe again.”
Frodo nodded. “I know.” He turned his head and pressed his face into Thorin’s arm, closing his eyes.
They stayed like that for some time, and Frodo was nearly asleep when the shouting began. Frodo’s eyes popped open, and Thorin gave a heavy sigh as the shouting grew in pitch, and then the door of Bag End was flung open and the Sackville-Bagginses flew out of it, their faces red and furious. They both stomped by without looking at the two sitting on the bench, though Lobelia gave a disdainful sniff as they passed. She had never approved of all of Bilbo’s traveling, she’d always told her husband; a hobbit should stay where he belonged, not go traipsing about the country like some wandering dwarf. Hardly surprising that he’d eventually taken up with one, all things considered. But why did he have to come back at all? And to give Bag End to a distant cousin instead of them, when everyone knew that by all rights it should be theirs? The insult was not to be borne.
They had shown up to this meeting for one reason and one reason only, Frodo knew. They wanted to see if they could lay claim to Bag End once and for all. They must have been informed by Bilbo that that would definitely not be the case. He had never seemed to like the Sackville-Bagginses and to be perfectly honest, neither did Frodo. He didn’t want to live with them at all, but it still stung that they could be so obviously disinterested in where he was to end up.
Bilbo followed the Sackville-Bagginses out of the house, hands on his hips. He had a pleased smile on his face. “Well, that took care of her,” he said, then sent a sheepish look in Thorin’s direction. “I know I should have tried harder to be polite, but I really cannot stand those two. Did you know what when I first returned from Erebor, I found that they had sold all of my things and were settled to move in? I still haven’t gotten back my mother’s silver spoons, and I know Lobelia has them, for all she says she doesn’t.”
“You may have mentioned it,” Thorin replied, and though he tried to sound stern Frodo could hear laughter in his voice. “And the others? Did you send them into fits as well?”
“Honestly, Thorin, do you really believe that I would? I actually quite like that lot. They're having a bite to eat, and then will return to Brandy Hall. Which reminds me.” Bilbo hunkered down a little to look Frodo in the eye. “I hate to put this on you, my boy, but it cannot be helped. There is a choice in front of you, and you’ll have to make it carefully, because though it can be changed the changing will take a bit of effort. Are you ready to hear it?”
Frodo nodded, eyes wide. He had a pretty good idea of what Bilbo was to ask, and though he loved his cousin and Thorin very much, he did not want to go with them to Erebor. He couldn’t leave the Shire, and he hoped that they would understand, and still visit sometimes. Perhaps when he was older he might be able to visit them as well, but now it would just be impossible.
“The Brandybucks would love to take you back with them to Brandy Hall. There are plenty of other children there for you to be with, and your cousins Merry and Pippin will also be there. It would no doubt be a good environment for a young lad such as yourself to grow up in, and of course Bag End would be yours when you came of age; that will not change no matter what you decide. Your other choice of course would be to live with Thorin and me.”
Frodo pulled away from Thorin slightly; he twisted his hands together in his lap, head down. “I…thank you, Bilbo, for the offer, but I…”
A large hand covered his, and Frodo looked up to find Thorin smiling gently. “We understand,” he told Frodo. He nodded his head at Bilbo, who was also smiling, if a bit sadly. “You would be more comfortable with those you know better.”
Frodo shook his head. “It isn’t that. I love you both, and would want to live with you if I could, but I do not want to leave the Shire.”
Bilbo laughed. “Is that all? My dear boy, of course you won’t be leaving the Shire. It was our intention to come to you, to live here at Bag End until you’ve come of age.”
Frodo gaped. “You would leave Erebor?” he asked incredulously. “Both of you? But…Thorin is King. He can’t just…can he?” a fragile bubble of hope was expanding in his chest. This was what he had wanted but hadn’t dared to actually hope might happen. If he couldn’t have his parents he preferred Bilbo and Thorin to anyone else, but he’d been so sure that they would not be able to stay - Thorin had his duties and Bilbo would not leave him for long - and that he could not go to Erebor, that he hadn’t allowed himself to think it might happen. He had to have heard wrong.
“As to that,” Thorin said, “I find that Fili does a much better job as King than I could ever hope to. I am thinking of letting him keep on with it on a more permanent basis.” He shrugged. “It is not often done, to be sure, but I think that it would be the wisest decision to make. Erebor needs a different kind of leader now that it is thriving again; Fili fits that role more than I could ever hope to do. And I find that it is enough for me to know that I can always return and be welcomed back to the place of my birth.” He smiled at Bilbo with so much fondness that Frodo had to look away. "I've come to think of home much differently of late."
When Frodo looked back up, both of them were grinning at him. "Does that help with your decision?” Bilbo asked, his tone clearly stating that he already knew the answer.
“Bilbo,” Thorin warned, his tone fondly exasperated, but Frodo was grinning back at Bilbo and nodding vigorously. The bubble of hope inside of him had expanded into happiness at realizing he was going to get what he wanted, and for the first time since his parents’ deaths he felt like things were going to turn out okay, after all.
Looking into his cousin’s smiling face, Frodo knew for certain that whatever else might happen, whatever his future held, living with Bilbo and Thorin was going to be a great adventure.