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"So, what exactly is going on?"
Thorin's mother turned toward him, and Bilbo was faced with a pair of very innocent dwarf eyes, not that he would let himself be fooled by such things. "My dear thing, why would you ask something like that?"
"You were rather quick to whisk me away." And she was still more or less dragging him down a corridor, having first shooed away the rest of the Company. "I could almost swear you wish to hide me away."
"Well, there is some truth to that." At least she didn't try for subterfuge. "It's merely that I noticed my dear husband arriving, and that had to mean Thrór couldn't be far behind."
"Your husband would be Thorin's father, right? Thráin?" Thráin, the one who left his key for Thorin before dying in such miserable circumstances. "And Thrór is his father, in turn."
"That would be correct." She paused before a door, knocking briefly upon it. As they received an invitation from the other side, she opened the door, leading him in.
It was another little living area, with two dwarves sitting there. The female dwarf was seated at a table, dressed in fine clothes, and had a sort of aged dignity to her though Bilbo couldn't hope to tell a grown dwarf's age with any sort of accuracy. Beside her was a male dwarf, one who bore a startling resemblance to Thorin, though he was clearly much younger.
"Ah, Frerin." Thorin's mother smiled at him. "I was rather hoping to find you here."
"Kíli alerted me to the situation, so I figured you'd end up here eventually. And not even my brother would get overly sappy in front of grandmother." With a bright grin that was quite similar to Kíli's, the dwarf jumped up to his feet, rushing to bow to Bilbo. "Frerin, son of Thráin, at your service."
"Ah. Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo, at yours." Bilbo gave a small bow in return, then straightened himself. "Ah. You're Thorin's brother?"
"That's me!" Yes, definitely the same grin as Kíli's. "And this here is our grandmother, Leka."
"And I am Kivi, as I fear we missed an introduction earlier." Thorin's mother smiled at him, then turned toward what thus was probably her mother-in-law. "I saw Thráin on his way, and I recalled he was with Thrór today, so I thought I would bring Bilbo here to weather the worst of the storm."
"A fine plan, I must say." Leka nodded. "Many of the line of Durin have formidable tempers, and to put three of them in the same room is bound to end in disaster, especially about such a contentious issue."
That issue had to be Bilbo, then. "Ah. I must apologize. I certainly did not mean to cause any sort of disagreement with my arrival."
"Oh, nonsense." Kivi waved his apologies off as though they were utterly unimportant. "This would have come to an end sooner or later. He may not have been announcing it at every forge, but Thorin has made no secret of the love he lost. Until now Thrór has ignored it, thinking it a design to vex him, but now he'll be forced to face the truth of it."
"Thorin has talked about me?" Bilbo very nearly stared at them. "Surely that can't be true."
"She exaggerates, but only a little." Leka smiles. "He has told us that he found and lost his One, and held little hope for a new meeting as his beloved was not a dwarf. Yet here you are, against all odds."
"He's going to be insufferable now, I bet." Frerin gave Bilbo a bright grin. "Though I suppose he has earned it by now. He has been waiting quite patiently."
"Patiently nothing," Kivi scoffed. "He's spent half his time at his forge just so he would not have to think about his loss. He is as good a smith as one might hope of one who has not taken it as his main craft, but it's clear it's mostly to distract himself."
"I never wished for him to have such sorrow." He never could have.
"Well, you saw him buried, so I think none will say you were purposefully causing him to be alone." Kivi patted his shoulder. "Now, do sit down and tell us about yourself. We do need to somehow pass the time until the stubborn ones have come to their senses."
Bilbo tried to protest, partly because he doubted he could be very interesting to what he was suddenly realizing were two queens and a prince, partly because he would have been quite curious to hear more about Thorin's family instead. However, he soon found one did not easily disobey the women of Durin. He was quite busy recounting the circumstances under which Frodo had come into his care as Thorin walked in, followed by a slightly older dwarf that Bilbo supposed would then have been his father.
"Thorin!" He sprung to his feet from where Kivi had tempted him to sit. "Is everything all right?"
"Oh, everything is just splendid," answered the other dwarf in Thorin's stead. "Including the part where my oaf of a son and stonehead of a father were yelling at each other."
"Thorin." Bilbo allowed the slightest scandalized tone to creep into his voice. "You didn't."
"He was insulting you, my One." Thorin took Bilbo's hands into his, holding them with surprising gentleness. "I could not let that stand."
"Even so, you shouldn't be yelling at your grandfather!" He made no move to withdraw his hands, though. "What did you even say?"
"Oh, you know. That he holds no power over me and has no say in my life. That he did not work as much to earn his crown as I did to gain mine."
"You didn't." Yet he knew even before Thorin nodded slowly at him that it was true. Of course Thorin would say such things.
"I still stand behind every one of my words."
"Now, I am but a simple hobbit, and my knowledge of dwarven lines is sadly lacking, so you will have to forgive me if I am mistaken here." Bilbo drew his hands away now and set them on his hips, looking Thorin directly in the eye. "Was Thrór, or was he not, the one who claimed Erebor?"
"Reclaimed it." Of course there was a correction, though at least Thorin had the decency to seem somewhat less angered at the mention of his grandfather. "He is not the one who first founded it, he merely led our people back there after he became king. And then he became gold-mad and tempted the dragon in to drive us from our home."
"Even so. How could you tell him he hadn't done anything for Erebor?"
"I didn't. I simply pointed out that both I and Fíli had done more than him, and I stand by that claim. Until the day Smaug came, the worst adversity he ever faced in his quest was a particularly stubborn colony of bats."
"And what exactly brought about this subject?" Kivi cut in before Bilbo could respond, stepping up to stand beside her son. "I doubt even you would start criticizing his claim to the crown just to get a fight." And why was 'even you' not that soothing coming from Thorin's own mother, who presumably knew him best?
Thorin drew a deep breath, looking at her. "He told me that if I truly chose to take Bilbo as my own, he would contest my right to the crown of Erebor. In return I announced I would eschew my crown rather than let go of him."
"Thorin…" Yet after his half-gasp Bilbo found himself at a loss for words. He had not yet regained his eloquence as he found Thorin drawing him into his arms, holding him close despite all the curious eyes on them.
"You are my One, Bilbo Baggins. That will never change, and as such, I could not choose anything before you. Not now that the wicked stone has lost its hold over me."
"It lies upon your tomb, now," Bilbo murmured, leaning his face into Thorin's strong chest, mostly to hide his rising flush. "It's said it will glow if ever a threat would come upon Erebor."
"A better place for it than ever upon the throne." The voice coaxed Bilbo to turn his head enough to look at the older dwarf, who gave him a rather polite bow. "Thráin, son of Thrór, at your service. I wish to thank you for making your way here."
"I fear it took little effort on my part, and no choice I would call difficult. My only hesitation was whether my scheme would be successful, and whether I would be welcomed if it was."
"Well, you need fret no longer." Thorin's arms tightened about him, just for a moment. "As you are here, it must be by Mahal's will, and not even my grandfather would dare question that for long."
"Is that what you think?" The new voice belonged to none of the dwarves Bilbo had been introduced to, and by the way Thorin's arms went even tighter he did not need to wonder who it was.
"Grandfather." Thorin ground out the word almost as though it were a curse, pausing a moment before turning to face its source, one arm letting go of Bilbo even as the other remained around him, a clear claim that he couldn't bring himself to mind. As he moved Bilbo saw an older dwarf standing in the doorway, wearing some rather impressive regalia. "I did not expect to see you yet."
"You converge in my chambers beside my wife and don't expect me? Sometimes your head is thicker than the wood upon your shield." The older dwarf glanced about the room, then set his eyes upon Bilbo. "You." Thrór, as it had to be him, fixed him a sharp-eyed gaze. "Are you Thorin's hobbit, then?"
"I am a hobbit, yes, and would not take offense at being considered his." Bilbo was somewhat impressed with himself for managing to hold a more or less level tone. "Whether he has amassed a number of other halflings to claim, I would not know." Thorin by his side snorted quietly, but did not loosen the arm about his shoulders. Bilbo was quietly rather grateful for that.
"What is your name?"
"Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire." As he ever would be, however far he had traveled in his days. "Or should I perhaps give you the list of names I bestowed upon the dragon when he asked what I was? He seemed quite impressed, Smaug the Terrible did, and as you both have such a fondness for gold I thought your tastes might run similar in other aspects as well." He could have sworn he heard Frerin gasp behind them, but wasn't about to turn to check the young prince's expression.
For a moment Thrór's expression was thunderous, but then he settled on a mere deep frown. "And what were your achievements in life, such as you had any?"
He had not yet been ordered to leave, not that he would have had anywhere to go. That gave him enough courage to continue upon his quite disrespectful course of action. "I was part of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, as he set out to Erebor," he said. "I stole the One Ring deep beneath a mountain, I walked in the shadow of Thranduil the Elvenking and sprung free the captives from his deepest cells, I spoke with Smaug who calls himself Death yet lived to tell the tale. And yet I stole the Arkenstone and gave it away, I wrote the tale of the Company to be passed down through time, I bore the One Ring and then gave it away and gained the favor of Elrond, to dwell in his house ere I departed mortal lands. Two contracts I signed in my time, both with a dwarf of Durin's line, and with one I signed away my life and with the other my death itself. I'm Mad Baggins and Bilbo the Elf-Friend, the writer of many a verse and Bilbo the Ring-bearer, yet no name have I born with such pride as that of the Burglar of Thorin Oakenshield."
Following his words there was silence for a moment, none daring to speak as they all waited for Thrór to give his reaction. He did, at some length, after what seemed like some deliberation.
"Certainly, you have a quick tongue, Halfling. If half of what you say is true, it is rather a full life you have led, though I find little pride in winning the friendship of elves." Thrór paused. "What trickery did you use to arrive at the Halls?"
"No trickery at all. As I said, I signed a contract with a dwarf of Durin. I gained claim to the right to enter the Halls, and in return he sought favor from the Valar."
"Oh?" Thrór frowned. "And what kind of a favor would be grand enough for a dwarf of my own family to cast aside his true destiny?"
Bilbo could practically sense everyone tensing around him, but he didn't let it get to him. It wasn't like he needed to be told that it wouldn't gain him much favor to reveal he had been party in Gimli's scheme to remain with an elf. "He discovered a vein of gold so rich he expects it never to run out," he said. "So he is hoping to enjoy his treasure until the remaking of the world." It was close enough to the truth, he supposed, with how he had heard Gimli go on about Legolas's beautiful hair. The lad had quite the poet's tongue.
Thrór grunted. "That would be typical enough, I suppose." He narrowed his eyes, then, looking at Bilbo. "Did you hear what my fool of a grandson declared to be his stance on you?"
"That he would choose me before his crown? Yes, I did hear." Bilbo leaned closer to Thorin, challenging Thrór to say something about it. "Which I do not agree with, considering all the trouble I went into just to get him on that throne back when we were alive. Then again, I would not agree with anyone asking him to make that choice in the first place."
"Hm." His eyes narrowed further, and then he straightened himself. "Well, I suppose you are stuck here either way. For now, though, I'd like you all to vacate what happen to be our chambers."
"Certainly." Thorin seemed to have recovered somewhat, more confidence than anger in his voice. "I was rather hoping to introduce my One to my bed chamber. After all, he must be exhausted from such a long journey." The tone he used, as well as the hint of a smirk on his lips, suggested rather less pure intentions.
Bilbo was still blushing as everyone but Leka and Thrór had vacated the chamber, Frerin not even trying to hide his amusement.
"Well, that went well," Thráin said with a solemn tone. "You held your own before him and didn't let him intimidate you. I think only a couple of more shouting matches between these two oafs, and you'll be counted as one of the family."
"Intimidated? I was terrified," Bilbo breathed. "And for such poor conduct, I might as well give up any claim to being a respectable gentlehobbit. My mother would give me a good trashing round the ears for speaking in such a manner to a king, never mind that both she and said king are long since dead."
"There are many kings around here, and few will stand to ceremony to any but their own, if even then." Thorin's hand found his, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Besides, as you are my fated heart and my chosen love, you stand no lower in any proper dwarf's reckoning than Thrór himself."
"I find that rather hard to believe," Bilbo muttered. Nevertheless, he did not let go of Thorin's hand.
"Whatever you believe, do not doubt your welcome here," Thráin said with a rather serious tone. "My father will come around, and few others would even think to protest. A dwarf's One is an important affair indeed, and one not to be ended even in death. Mahal's hand is clearly at work here."
"In that case, I suppose I'll stop worrying about Thrór and instead fret over Mahal changing his mind." Bilbo gave him a weak smile. "Though now, all crass jokes aside, I think I would appreciate the opportunity for some rest." It had been quite the busy day, what with the death and the assault of dwarves all around.
"Come with me, then, Master Hobbit." As though he had planned to go anywhere from Thorin's side anyway. "I will make sure you get your rest before you're subjected to any more of the mischief of the line of Durin."
"That," Bilbo stated, somehow managing to summon a smile even in the midst of his exhaustion and still lingering nervousness, "sounds rather more like a threat for the impending mischief than a promise of the imminent relief."
Thorin chuckled, a breath of amusement rising from deep within his chest, and just for that sound, he would have faced all the kings and queens gathered in the Halls.
Even so, five in one day was quite an achievement already.