Chapter Text
To all the other hobbits, it seemed strange that Bilbo lived in that big house alone. They always seemed to be asking him why he hadn’t settled down with a nice girl, and started a family. It bothered Bilbo more when he was younger than it did now. Now that he was middle-aged, he had grown accustomed to the constant chatter and gossip of Hobbiton and instead found himself focused on the comfort of his books. To Bilbo, nothing was better than curling up in his armchair by the hearth with a good book and a cup of tea.
Bilbo was something of a collector of books. In fact, he had so many that it was often joked that his house was a library. A closely kept secret of his was that he dreamed of becoming a great author someday but until his dream could be fulfilled, he contented himself wandering the isles of almost any bookstore and bringing home books that piqued his interest.
Today was one of these days.
As Bilbo made his way home from his favorite bookstore, Beans and Books Inc, it began to rain. He tucked his precious books into his jacket to keep them dry and quickened his pace down the road. The light drizzle quickly became a downpour, soaking his curly golden hair. Bilbo quickly entered his house, drying his wet feet on the mat to keep them from marking his floors. Bilbo shut the door and sighed. It was good to be home again, and be able to shut out the world for a little while. He hung his jacket on one of the many pegs in the front hall and left his new books in the study.
Wandering into the kitchen, Bilbo put the kettle on the stove and readied a teapot. Black tea would be best for a day such as this. Rifling through his expansive collection, Bilbo produced a special holiday blend of black tea, which he had acquired at a specialty store in Bree, and poured hot water into the pot. As the tea steeped, Bilbo set about picking a book to read from his new pile. After some deliberation, he settled on a collection of Dwarvish history, folk tales, and legends. He snuggled into his favorite armchair by the warm fire. Listening to the calming sound of the rain outside, Bilbo began to read.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Bilbo snapped back into reality. It had to be midnight at least. The hobbit had been so absorbed in the stories that he had hardly noticed as the hours passed. Bilbo shook his head. Outside, the rain had transformed into a raging storm. Bilbo could hear tree branches scraping against the side of Bag End, the wind howling more fiercely than a pack of wolves.
Suddenly realizing he was quite hungry, the hobbit set about fixing a snack. As he puttered about the kitchen, his mind kept drifting back to one of the stories he had read. The one about a young Dwarf prince, and how he became known as Oakenshield. According to the book, the prince had fought off a whole legion of orcs with only an oak branch as a shield. Now, Bilbo knew very little about combat, but he was almost certain this had to be made up. Just a legend of some kind. Surely no Prince Oakshield actually existed.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Later, just as Bilbo was done readying himself for bed, He heard a knocking (or rather, a pounding) at his door.
“Coming!” Bilbo shouted, grumbling to himself as he stomped over to the door. Who could it be at this hour?
As Bilbo approached the door, he could hear the howling of the storm get louder. It sounded like a proper hurricane out there. Upon opening the door, a gust of wind blew in so strong that it blew a stack of papers off the table in the front hall. There, standing in the rain, Bilbo saw a tall stranger in a blue cloak.
“May I come in?” The stranger’s voice bellowed, trying to be heard over the wind.
Bilbo froze for a second before stammering “ Yes, yes o-of course!”, ushering in the man in the blue cloak and shutting the door behind him.
“I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I was lost and got caught in the storm. I can’t see a bloody thing out there.” the stranger said, removing his hood to reveal long, brown hair adorned with dwarvish braids, and stunning blue eyes.
“I hate to ask this of someone I’ve just met, but would you by any chance happen to have a couch or extra bed that I might be able to sleep on?” he said, “Really, even the floor would be acceptable, Master…?”
Bilbo blinked, realizing he was being asked a question “Baggins! Er… Bilbo Baggins, Sir.” he stated.
“Thorin Oakenshield, at your service,” Thorin said with a small bow
Bilbo’s jaw nearly hit the floor. It couldn’t be… there is no way...
Thorin began giving him a confused look. Bilbo realized he was staring and shook himself.
“I have a rather lovely guest room you can use. Would you like some herbal tea? A snack?” Bilbo said quickly, trying not to be impolite. “Perhaps some pastries? I happen to have just made a rather lovely batch of cookies this morning!”
Thorin looked slightly overwhelmed by the hobbit’s sudden eagerness to feed him.
“Uhhhh…yes…yes, some food would be lovely, Master Baggins,”
The hobbit guided his new companion into the living room and set about fixing tea and a plate of cookies. The two sat in awkward silence, eating their cookies.
“So... Thorin, what brings you to the shire ?” Bilbo asked politely, breaking the silence.
Thorin’s expression darkened.
“I’m only passing through and got lost. I was looking for someone near Bree, and, well...” He trailed off.
Frightened that his question had upset — or worse — offended the dwarf, Bilbo blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“So are the stories true?”
Thorin looked puzzled.
“What stories?”
“Ehh, don’t mind me. I just read a story about a dwarf named Thorin Oakenshield. Something about killing a bunch of orcs with a branch, but surely you have no relation. I’m just being silly...err. ”
Thorin blinked.
“Uhh, I do think that was about me. I had no idea anyone had written such things down, let alone published it, though,” he said
“Wait… Wait Wait Wait… you’re a Prince?” Bilbo said, confused.
“I…” Thorin started
“ OH! OH MY ! YOU’RE A PRINCE! WHERE ARE MY MANNERS. YOUR MAJESTY I’m so sorry, really, here I am treating you like some common stranger. Please, please, forgive me — I don’t know much of Dwarven royalty.” Bilbo interrupted, now kneeling on the floor.
“Bilbo..err..Master Baggins, none of this is really necessary. Please stand up. At the moment I am your guest, just a traveler passing through.” Thorin said, nearly dropping his tea as he quickly set it down and rushed to help the hobbit to his feet.
They both stared at each other for an uncomfortably long moment before Bilbo broke the silence.
“Maybe it’s best if we go to sleep” he suggested.
“Yes, Yes…. I’m so sorry to have disturbed you at this hour” Thorin said. He started to wander out of the living room before realizing he had no idea where he was going.
“Uh… this way Pri..Prince-“ Bilbo started.
“Please Master Baggins call me Thorin” Thorin interrupted. He spun around, realizing he had been walking in the complete opposite direction of the bedrooms.
“Well then, Thorin” Bilbo said, escorting the Dwarf down the hall “Why don’t I give you a good breakfast in the morning to make up for all this. I’m rather tired, so I apologize for all this confusion”
“Breakfast sounds lovely. Six eggs with ham is always good at the start of a journey” Thorin blurted out without thinking.
“Ah… yes, that sounds good!” Bilbo said a little surprised by the Dwarf’s eagerness to try his cooking.
“Well, goodnight” Bilbo said.
“Good night Mast-“ Thorin started.
“ Oh please, call me Bilbo” the Hobbit said.
“Bilbo...Bilbo” Thorin repeated to himself “Alright. Goodnight, Bilbo.” he said, shutting the door.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Thorin nearly slammed his head against the wall. Six eggs? Sure, that was in fact his meal of choice for a journey, but he had already been taken in so kindly by this Hobbit. It was incredibly rude for him to force his appetite on someone who had already shown such hospitality.
“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Men gorach , Thorin! Mahal!” He said to himself
Thorin wasn’t sure why he found himself caring so much about what Bilbo thought of him, but nevertheless, he worried. Mahal! It was like he couldn’t think clearly around the hobbit.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Bilbo sighed to himself outside the closed door. He really hoped his late-night scatterbrained demeanor hadn’t offended Thorin. After all, he didn’t have much experience interacting with dwarves — let alone dwarvish royalty.
Giggling a little, he remembered his guest’s odd breakfast request. Clearly, he had underestimated the appetite of dwarves!
Back in his own room, Bilbo stared at the ceiling, his head filled with the tales from the book he had read. He could hear Thorin mumbling to himself in the next room. Just as Bilbo began to drift off, the mumbles became the hum of a song. The song brought Bilbo dreams of a Dwarvish prince fighting orcs with an oaken shield, the rubble of a ruined city of men, pines burning on the side of a mountain, and most hauntingly of piles and piles of golden treasure entombed in stone halls, lit in the light of an unforgiving flame.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
CeCi feed me your toes
No get your own fuckin toes
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo