Chapter Text
Thorin didn’t say anything, though Acorn strained her ears to hear. She wished she could see if he was standing up or still sitting at the table, but Mum would definitely know if Acorn opened the door to her room more than a little crack. Their hobbit hole in Erebor wasn’t a sprawling smial like Bag End. Even if the door didn’t creak at all, Mum would likely see the changing shadows in the hallway.
Just as Acorn decided to risk it, Thorin spoke.
“It pleased me greatly to believe that you invited me to share a meal, Bilbo. Knowing now that I have been deceived and am unwelcome, I beg you will excuse me.”
“Oh! You ridiculous dwarf! Acorn didn’t tell me her plan, and I was surprised to see you. That doesn’t make you unwelcome. Stay. Please.”
“I am not the one who is leaving.” Thorin’s voice was so quiet that Acorn could barely hear it at all.
“I’m not the one who is leaving.”
“So we can come back again when the time is right!” Bilbo paused, “Or do you not want us to come back,” she whispered brokenly.
“I don’t want you to leave in the first place!”
“Then why tell Acorn we are leaving in the fall?”
“Because I didn’t think you wanted to stay!” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing in a controlled and tempered voice. “Dis told me about the carrot seeds, that you didn't think well enough of me to even leave a chance of a—” his voice broke at the last word.
“Acorn, close the door,” Bilbo called out, interrupting Thorin, “and keep it closed.” She didn’t continue until a few moments after she heard the quiet thump of the door closing. “Of course, I didn’t want to risk a second child, not if we were staying. I didn’t want another child to risk whispers about. We’ve been lucky enough to avoid the worst of the rumors here in Erebor, but I know how nasty backbiters can be. Acorn’s dealt with enough of that in the Shire and as much as I love you and am happy to sacrifice my pride for you, I will not have our daughter subjected to verbal cruelties if I can help it, let alone a second child. It has nothing to do with how I see you! While there are many things about Erebor that Acorn and I enjoy, the lack of gossip hurting my daughter is one of the best, even if she doesn’t realize it’s such a difference. She has friends here and people want to be around her. In the Shire, half the hobbits didn’t even want to talk to her due to her illegitimate birth, much less let their children be around her, and she may not have understood why but even she sees the effects. I will love you from the sidelines and shadows, and I will wait for you in these rooms, but I will not subject another child to what Acorn faced in the Shire, nor risk digging up those same circumstances for her here, no matter how much I love you!”
Thorin dropped onto Bilbo’s settee. “So you’re saying that any future children you have would be illegitimate.” His voice was flat and almost cold, if not for a hint of something Bilbo couldn't identify.
Bilbo’s eyebrows raised in acknowledgement of the situation as she took a deep breath. “Well, I don’t really see myself getting married in these circumstances, do you? And I would never think of asking you to make that choice.”
Never think of asking you. Never think of asking you. It rattled in Thorin's head and squeezed his heart in a vice grip. “So there is no hope, then. I can never be worthy enough in your eyes. I’ve ruined it forever,” he choked out and his head hung low between his shoulders, as he hunched in on himself.
“Ruined what?” Bilbo circled around the back of the settee to sit at his side, drawing one of his hands from his lap into both of her own.
“Any chance I had of your thinking as you once did, of loving me as you once did. When I became mad and cast you out, I ruined every chance I had of your ever asking me to marry you…”
“Marry you,” Bilbo breathed. “You want me to marry you.”
Thorin’s eyes squeezed closed as if in pain. He tried to pull his hand back, and only Bilbo's firm grip kept it where it was. “Forgive me, again, though I don’t deserve it. I should never have spoken so dishonorably.” He was moments away from tears as he continued to choke out, “Please, take my beard, my beads, my crown, but don't leave again; don’t take Acorn away with you where I cannot go to you.”
“Take Acorn away! I don’t know what you think you did wrong, but no, no Thorin, don’t you dare touch those beads or your beard. I will not have that. And I would never take your daughter away to punish you. No, Thorin,” and she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, plastering herself to his back to comfort him. Suddenly, his words crashed over her. “Ask me to marry…” she mouthed. “Thorin, do dwarrowdams propose marriage in dwarven relationships?”
He paused in his efforts to take deep breaths, trying to keep calm. “Of course.”
“And how would they do that?”
“She would set a task for her suitor to complete, whether it be something to acquire or to make, occasionally something he already had if it were valuable, like a family heirloom, and when he had given it, and if it was to her satisfaction, they would be engaged.”
“Would a king of dwarves be forced to choose between his crown, his throne, and his people and his bride if a hobbit with an illegitimate half-hobbit daughter wished to marry such a king?”
He stiffened, still looking at the floor in front of him, not daring to look up and break the pregnant moment. “Not if the hobbit was a hero to his people, and certainly not if her daughter were half-dwarf.”
Bilbo nodded into his shoulder, and now just one more thing-- “Do you want to be a father to our daughter, Thorin, publicly and openly?”
He nodded fervently, “More than anything.”
“Then will you marry me, Thorin Oakenshield?”
He nearly threw her off with the speed in which he turned to face her. “And what is your bride price?”
“The second most valuable thing I can think of.”
“Anything. Ask anything of me, and I will do it.”
“It is second in value to me only behind my daughter.”
He nodded, staring into her eyes steadfastly, waiting for his challenge.
“I will marry you if you give me the heart of the King under the Mountain,” Bilbo saw Thorin’s eyes widen in wonder, “For there is no treasure you can hold in your hand worth more to me than that.”
Finally, after long minutes of holding back tears of heartbreak, tears of joy started to slip down Thorin’s cheeks. “And it is a heart I freely give to you, unworthy as it is, insofar as it is still mine to give, for, in truth, I gave it to you long ago.”
“Hush, you, I will not have you call something that now belongs to me unworthy. I would not want it if it were. And there,” Bilbo pecked him on the lips, “then I am content to call us engaged if you are pleased to be so.”
“Bilbo,” he sighed as he wrapped his arms around her. “Bilbo, amralime, ghivashel, my love, my one.” He pulled back to look into her face, “Will you let me braid my bead in your hair, and let me make one for…” he hesitated, though her language throughout their conversation and her agreement to marry him emboldened him, “for our daughter?”
Bilbo nodded, “As long as you can be quick about the braid. I think it’s time we let our seedling out of her room and had a family celebratory dinner, just the three of us, don’t you think?”