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When Lonely Mountain finally loomed over the surrounding landscape, Bilbo pulled his pony to a halt. They were right on the edge of the lands that had once been the Desolation of Smaug, lands that now bustled with activity both of Men and Dwarves. Here was a good place for stop for a moment, before watchful eyes noticed him.
“Here, Kili,” he said, passing the young dwarf the tiny figure who sat in the saddle in front of him. “Take him up slowly. I can only hope that I’ve convinced Thorin by the time you reach the Mountain.”
“You can count on me, Bilbo,” Kili promised and flashed a smile. “You really aren’t giving Uncle enough credit, though. It won’t take much convincing.”
Bilbo returned the smile tightly. He wasn’t so sure. It had been hard enough for Thorin to keep him in Erebor, much less what Bilbo was about to ask him. The leading families of the Dwarves were suspicious of outsiders, particularly when they got so close to the bloodline of Durin.
He nudged his pony with his heel and trotted toward the road.
Once Bilbo got clear of the traffic leading to Dale, he was able to bring the pony up to a faster pace. The few people who turned to complain at him forgot the words and offered short bows in the time before he got past them. Bilbo wasn’t sure if it was the beads braided into his hair or the material of his clothes that told them who he was, not that it mattered. He was obviously the Consort of the King Under the Mountain and no one would intentionally offer him an insult. He hated taking advantage of it, but he was in a hurry.
He traveled fast, but word must have traveled faster, because horns were already blowing at the Front Gate when he arrived. Bilbo drew his pony to a halt and dismounted, nodding politely to the dwarf who sprang forward to take charge of it.
Dwalin slammed the haft of his enormous axe against the stones. “Welcome, Bilbo Baggins, Prince of Erebor!” he shouted, loud enough to echo from the walls and make everyone in sight pause and bow. “Where’s Kili?” the Captain of the Guard added in a normal tone, grinning.
“Coming behind. There’s something I must discuss with Thorin, urgently.” Bilbo braced himself as Dwalin clapped him on the back and managed only a single step to the side as the powerful greeting staggered him.
“He should be just concluding Audience, lad. If you hurry, you’ll catch him heading to his study.”
Smiling his thanks, Bilbo dashed through the Gate and into the wide halls of Erebor. Even after all his years of living here, he still felt awed and tiny in the public spaces of the Dwarf kingdom. The low rumble of deep dwarf voices and their heavy footfalls echoed from the ceilings, ensuring that silence never fell here like it had when Smaug was lord of the Mountain. Deeper in the earth was the sound of the forges, blazing so strongly that the entire kingdom was nicely heated even in the depths of winter.
Bilbo dodged around small huddles of dwarves and worked his way up to where Thorin had his official study. This was still a workspace and he used it for conducting private meetings and the like. His personal study was lower in the Mountain where his chambers were located. Over the last handful of years, Bilbo had mostly taken sole residence there and it was littered with his books of poetry and history and papers covered with his translations.
Finally, Bilbo found the right door. Thorin, after being called away from his work to find Bilbo to many times, had arranged for his study doors to be carved with oak trees to make them distinctive. Dwarves had a stone sense that ensure they never got lost among endless rows of doors carved with sinuous knotwork, but Bilbo didn’t and the places he was likely to go needed extra care so that he could find them. Typically, the work had gotten out of hand.
The oak leaves glittered with real emeralds and the black emperor butterflies above them, like the ones Bilbo had seen in Mirkwood, were inlaid with ebony and obsidian. It was beautiful, but Bilbo privately felt it was far too much effort for a door.
He caught his breath, made sure his clothes were properly arranged, and pushed the doors open.
Normally, he could tell what kind of day Thorin had had by how he reacted to someone coming in without knocking. Only a few people in the Mountain would dare, all of them members of Thorin’s immediate family, but he always seemed to forget and assume the worst. This time, the sound of his voice cut off at once, but he didn’t launch into a demand to know what could possibly be so important. That was an encouraging sign.
“Bilbo! I was beginning to worry, you were due back nearly two weeks ago,” Thorin said, striding forward to hug him. Bilbo returned the hug enthusiastically. It was partially a survival tactic; dwarves rarely had an understanding of their own strength. Mostly, he was glad to see his husband again.
“Shire business, Thorin. I was delayed, but it’s done with now. I do have something I need to speak with you about, privately.”
Thorin’s blue eyes narrowed, but he only nodded. “Fili, stay by the fire. I’ll be above and not to be disturbed.”
“Of course, Thorin,” Fili said. He had come over to greet Bilbo and gave him a careful hug. Bilbo winced to see how much Fili was leaning on his cane. Dwarven customs dictated that the heir to the throne stand for all official ceremonies and the injury Fili had gotten in the Battle of Five Armies wasn’t enough to earn him an exception. His leg must be aching.
“I went ahead of Kili, he’ll be here soon,” Bilbo promised, seeing the unspoken question in Fili’s eyes. As usual, the blond dwarf worried about his younger brother.
He smiled at Fili’s relief and followed Thorin up the stairs to the second floor of his study. It was more of a loft than anything else, open to the main space of the room, but set into the wall. Bilbo settled on a mound of cushions and Thorin pulled him close.
Rather than waiting for him to speak, Thorin gave him a lingering kiss. Bilbo knew it was probably silly of him, but he felt it was better than the last kiss Thorin had given him, even though most of them were objectively similar. He had spent years beside the stubborn, dramatic, and incredible dwarf and he still couldn’t believe his luck.
“I’ve missed you, my love,” Thorin said, touching his forehead to Bilbo’s.
“And I you, but I need you to listen, Thorin. I’ve done something people aren’t going to approve of.” Bilbo sighed out a deep breath. “My cousin Drogo and his wife drowned shortly after my last trip to the Shire. Their son, Frodo, needed a proper place to live. I won’t say anything against Brandy Hall, but he’s a Baggins. I couldn’t do nothing.”
He paused, unsure how to explain what he had done. It had been a long road home from the Shire, and he’d pondered his next words for weeks, but they still wouldn’t arrange themselves perfectly.
“Bilbo. Did you adopt an orphaned Hobbit and bring him here?” Thorin asked. Bilbo heard the quiver in his voice, the deliberate emphasis on every word that said emotion was clouding his ability to speak and waited for a shout.
Instead, he got a roar of laughter. Perplexed, Bilbo stared at Thorin, who doubled over and laughed until he was gasping for breath. After a long stretch of silence only broken by Thorin’s decreasing chuckles, he wiped tears from his face and sat up.
“I might have,” Bilbo replied, still bemused. “I know your people don’t like outsiders, but he’s only a child. He’s no threat to anyone and if he lives here, he won’t become one. I would have asked Hamfast Gamgee to look after him at Bag End, but we both agreed it was better for Frodo if he lived with his family.”
Thorin bestowed a gentle smile on him and brushed stray curls of hair off Bilbo’s forehead. “Frodo, son of Drogo, will be welcome in Erebor, I swear it. Even if the family Heads protest it, I want him to be a part of our family. I’ve never seen a Hobbit child.”
“You would’ve done if you took some time to visit the Shire with me,” Bilbo reminded him. The teasing words covered a great wash of relief. It would have been hard for Frodo to cross half of Middle-earth only to find he was unwelcome.
“Fili isn’t ready yet to rule in my absence, even for a short time,” Thorin said and shook his head. “I suppose you left the child in Kili’s care?”
“I did. They’ve been getting on famously. There won’t be a sweet in the Mountain safe from those two. But there’s something about him, Thorin, something I recognized when I first saw him. Most Hobbits never consider what lies beyond their own front yard. Frodo asked me for tales of my adventures even before I offered to take charge of him. His eyes have been big as dinner plates ever since the Misty Mountains came into view. He’s like me and I wanted to nurture that rather than letting it fade away.”
“Well then,” Thorin mused, the rumble of his voice vibrating directly into Bilbo’s chest. “He should enjoy life here immensely.”
“I hope so,” Bilbo said quietly. Fears had beset him from the moment the little group left the Shire. Was he right to take a child so far from his home? Would Frodo really thrive in the Mountain, where things were vastly different from what he was used to?
Only time would tell but knowing that Thorin would support him took quite a bit of weight off Bilbo’s shoulders.
He sat in silence, listening to Thorin’s breathing for a long time. It was a habit dating from the first of his journeys between Erebor and Bag End and a comforting one to feel Thorin’s strength after long weeks in dangerous lands.
Below, the door opened again. From the excited shout, it was Kili. Bilbo got to his feet, nervous all over again. Frodo had gotten over his shyness of Kili quickly, thanks to Kili’s short beard and slender build. Thorin was impressive even on the best of days and he hadn’t put aside his splendid robes of state.
“Shall we?” Thorin asked.
Bilbo blinked at him. While he hadn’t been looking, Thorin had slipped out of the robes and dropped them to the side. Underneath, he wore a simple blue tunic, breeches, and boots. Well, simple was a bit misleading. Gold and silver threads glinted in the dense embroidery on his collar and cuffs, and the hems were edged with sleek grey fur. Beads glittered in the braids falling from his temples, flattering the natural silver streaks that had made their way far too early through his dark hair.
He still cut an imposing figure, but now Bilbo wasn’t so worried he would frighten Frodo.
“Let’s go,” he agreed, accepting Thorin’s outstretched hand. Together, they descended the stairs.
In the main study, voices murmured. Fili was still in his seat by the fire, his bad leg propped on a stool. Facing him, Frodo sat in another chair, with several cushions at his back to make him comfortable. Kili sat on the floor at his feet, using both hands to gesture as he described something to his brother.
Thorin stopped and if Bilbo hadn’t been standing beside him, he wouldn’t have heard the tiny squeal the King Under the Mountain made. He looked sharply at his husband; certain he must have imagined it. There was no way Thorin, of all people, had squealed like a little girl presented with the present she wanted most in the world.
“Are all Hobbit children so cute?” Thorin demanded under his breath, gently squeezing his hand.
Bilbo was so overcome with surprised laughter that he couldn’t come up with an answer. Thorin didn’t wait for him to recover, he finished going down the stairs and knelt beside Frodo’s chair.
Kili’s voice fell silent. Bilbo held his breath, shoulders still shaking slightly from suppressed laughter.
“Hello, Master Baggins,” Thorin said in his gentlest voice. “I’m Thorin.”
Golden light from the fire shimmered on Frodo’s dark curls as he looked at Thorin and Bilbo was struck by the similarity between their blue eyes. Frodo’s were larger and rounder, but the intense color was nearly the same shade.
“Hello,” Frodo replied. “Uncle Bilbo said you would be my uncle too.”
“I will, if you would like that. I’ll show you how to get the best cream cakes for tea.”
Frodo’s whole face lit up, washing away the weariness of the road. Dimples flashed in his cheeks and he threw both arms around Thorin’s neck. Thorin laughed and hugged him gently.
“I told you, Bilbo,” Kili said quietly, coming to his side. “We dwarves love children of all kinds. It comes of how few there are of our own children.”
“Thank you, Kili. I won’t doubt you again.” Bilbo had a feeling Kili was going to abuse that to the best of his ability, but that was a worry for another day. He was home with his family.