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Bilbo Baggins once lived and breathed life at the University of Oxford. Like his father and his father’s father before him, they spent a good portion of their twenties there, earning doctorates to pursue their preferred careers.

His father and grandfather were historians and passed down their love of history to Bilbo. But Bilbo’s interests always swayed to writing, books, and classic literature, because he spent much of his childhood not fitting in with anybody but finding acceptance among the books he always had his nose stuck in.

Going to Oxford and finding like-minded individuals for the first time in his life had been, well, life-changing. Bilbo might have been a bit late finding his peers, but he grew and learned with them in the wide world of English language and literature.

Pursuing a doctorate came naturally—that’s simply what a Baggins did—but Bilbo wasn’t sure if he wanted to teach or perhaps find and contribute to research.

He might have felt a kinship with his fellow students, but teaching young minds wasn’t something Bilbo felt a powerful pull toward.

Of course, by the time he earned his doctorate, that all changed. Bilbo spent plenty of time watching his professors and bonding with them, ever curious, and there was something to be said about teaching young minds.

It wasn’t only the coursework but a shared love of interests and to give back what he learned and personally experienced.

Bilbo took a job at a university in London and found that being in love with his career made him fonder of the city. He grew up outside of it and never particularly liked it, but the vast diversity helped.

Of course, life is often full of surprises, whether they’re to one’s detriment or not, and Bilbo found it in the form of a phone call.

When he was in uni, the head of the research department was Doctor Gandalf Grey, who now serves as the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford, and he always liked Bilbo.

You have a sharp, bright mind, Bilbo Baggins. Too sharp at times, but when has that ever slowed you down? You’ll do wonderful things.

Well, I don’t know about wonderful things, but I’ll be able to go toe to toe with anyone willing to talk literature with me.

And who says that isn’t a wonderful thing? You’ve always thought yourself to be such a little fellow in a large world, but it’s the world that’s small and waiting for you to put your mark on it.

Bilbo’s fond of Gandalf, even if seeing his name on his phone always makes him anxious because Gandalf tends to whisk him off on some wild adventure.

He’d asked Bilbo to come with him to Bora Bora once, to visit someone of great importance in the field, and Bilbo had gone along because he’d been young and naive.

It turned out that someone of great importance in the field was merely an old Oxford alum that enjoyed the beach and cocktails. Gandalf thought Bilbo needed to get out more. Though he’d been annoyed that it was a luxurious holiday in disguise, well, Bilbo could certainly appreciate a good cocktail on white shores while looking out over turquoise waters.

And Gandalf did indeed extend an invitation to another adventure.

Only this was an adventure of a lifetime.

A chance to teach at Oxford.

What more could Bilbo do than reach out and take it?

And so Bilbo finds himself living and breathing Oxford once again, from an entirely different perspective. It doesn’t take long to get over his nerves and become the professor his students deserve.

He knows them, after all, he knows what it’s like to sit where they do, minds open and eager to be filled. He knows them when they’re outside of a lecture hall; he knows them when they’re with friends, and he knows them when they look at the old stone walls and wonder how they made it there at all.

He knows them. He is them, if Bilbo is feeling particularly philosophical about it, and there’s something marvelous in that.

So, on this dreary, rainy Tuesday afternoon, Bilbo has no bloody idea what’s wrong with them.

They’d all seemed a bit fidgety when they came in, excitably whispering between each other, but they’d quieted down when Bilbo started his lesson. But not for long, and a stern glance or dry remark didn’t seem to faze them, which was strange by itself.

Bilbo’s excellent at stern glances and dry remarks.

But his students are restless and not paying attention, and after the third attempt to get their heads out of the clouds, Bilbo wracks his brain for why.

There are no events today or even this week, nothing to be so excited about, and there was nothing on the news when Bilbo had checked at lunch. Nothing locally, nationally or internationally is happening today as far as Bilbo knows, so there isn’t any excuse for this.

“Alright,” Bilbo says loudly enough for his voice to echo and their mouths to snap shut. “I don’t know what’s gotten into the lot of you, but I was under the impression that you’re graduate students who worked quite hard to be sitting here, and I’ve lost your attention entirely. So,” he says when they frown, “you best share the gossip with me so I might let my hair down and ignore the lecture myself.”

There’s some laughter to this, and one of his students, Baker, shrugs. “Well, we know you read our emails, Doctor Baggins,” he says and grins when there’s more laughter. “But don’t you read faculty emails?”

“I’ll have you know that I read them first, second and third because they’re even harder to make sense of than yours,” Bilbo says. “I suppose any excitement today must’ve slipped my mind. Or slipped off my calendar, anyway, and you know how I feel about my calendar.”

“We do, Doctor Baggins,” another of his students says with a laugh, her smile bright. “We know how hard it must’ve been for you not to tell us, but we know, anyway. Visiting royalty is hard to keep secret.”

“Mmm, yes,” Bilbo agrees. “Could’ve sworn the Queen was due on Thursday, though.” He sighs when they giggle like primary students. “Alright then. You lot are going to leave and do the work you’ve been assigned. You’re not to go bothering any visiting royalty. So keep your noses in your books. I demand no good moods or excitement on Thursday. We’re very serious here.”

“Very serious,” some of them agree.

Bilbo shoos them out and watches them go. Then, when his room is blessedly silent, he sits at his desk and opens his staff email.

Nothing would indicate anyone exciting was visiting in the last few weeks, and goodness knows what they mean by royalty. Harry Styles could waltz in and be treated like royalty, Bilbo knows that much about him, but there’s nothing in his inbox that he might have missed.

Bilbo does take the time out to respond to staff and administration emails, as well as a few students’ before he decides that afternoon tea sounds like a good idea.

His last lecture for the afternoon always makes him two hours late for tea, but sitting in the staff room in front of the fire and enjoying the drizzle outside sounds like a treat, even if he didn’t manage to do his job this afternoon.

The halls are quiet, Bilbo notices, but then he’s usually in the middle of a lecture and not venturing through the school.

He checks his phone as he crosses a lawn to another building where the staff room is and doesn’t find any breaking news—not relating to their university or otherwise.

Heads in the clouds, maybe, but Bilbo’s had his head in the clouds all his life, depending on who you ask, so he’ll forgive them.

Bilbo steps into another hall and heads to the staff room. Unfortunately for him, Doctor Grey rounds a corner at the other end of the hall, speaking with a group of four men.

He tries, he does, but no matter how quickly Bilbo leaps toward the door, Gandalf never lets him get away with it.

“Ah, Bilbo!” he says and jauntily waves as if Bilbo isn’t twenty feet away and the only one in the hall. “Going for a spot of tea?”

“Yes, indeed, I am, thank you,” Bilbo says shortly as he uses his badge to unlock the door.

“Shouldn’t you be in the middle of a lecture?”

“Oh, I should,” Bilbo sighs and looks at Gandalf. “But I’m afraid they’ve all forgotten what decorum and learning and all those pesky things are. Heads in the clouds, feet off the ground, what have you.”

Gandalf chuckles as if Bilbo is being hilarious and gestures at him. “Doctor Bilbo Baggins,” he says to the group of men, “of language and literature.”

The youngest of them, with a wild mane of blond hair and striking blue eyes, lights up. He can’t be more than twenty, and Bilbo realizes he’s likely a prospective student for the next term.

Of course, he shares those blue eyes with the taller man at his side. He’s dressed in a fine black, three-piece suit with a blue tie and pocket square to match, and Bilbo finds himself a bit dumbfounded. It’s a wonder he hadn’t noticed him first.

Tall and broad and black-haired, face stern with sharp features and a tidy beard… Bilbo’s quite sure he’s never seen a man so handsome.

He’s gazing at Bilbo with interest, though not as much interest as his son, and he’s smiling just a bit, which does nothing to help Bilbo’s heart slow down and behave itself.

“Sorry?” Bilbo asks when he realizes Gandalf has been speaking. “Oh, yes. Durin, you said?”

Gandalf sighs. “I see your students aren’t the only ones with their heads in the clouds today,” he says. “Allow me to introduce you once more—”

“Thorin Durin,” the man that’s got Bilbo’s palms sweaty announces, his voice sinfully deep. He has a familiar accent, though Bilbo can’t immediately place it. “Fili. He has an interest in your area.”

“I do,” Fili says earnestly and walks to Bilbo, offering his hand. “I’ve read all about the school and department, and I’ve read your portfolio, too, Doctor Baggins. We’re touring to see how I might like it here, though I’ve told my uncle I already know I will.”

Bilbo shakes Fili’s hand with a laugh, pointedly ignoring uncle instead of father. “Well,” he says, “you can’t blame your uncle for wanting eyes on the place himself.”

Fili smiles wryly. “Mum’s always telling my brother and me the same thing,” he says. “I suppose we’ve come a long way.”

“Erebor,” Bilbo says, now that he’s placed the accent. “Goodness, you have then, haven’t you? Well, welcome! I hope we’ve met your expectations.”

“Mine, yeah,” Fili says with a grin. “Still working on my uncle’s.”

“Alright,” Thorin sighs and comes closer, extending his hand. He’s smiling, charmingly so, enough to make Bilbo swoon if he let it. “Forgive my nephew’s candor. It must not be the right day for decorum.”

Bilbo laughs, though it’s higher pitched than he’d like it to be, as he shakes Thorin’s hand. He’s tall and right here and bloody good-looking, and Bilbo has the thought that royalty has undoubtedly come to Oxford, but he’s not entirely sure what their celebrity is, precisely.

He doesn’t know all that much about Erebor. Literary-wise, yes, perhaps, but it’s such a small country nestled between Switzerland and Austria near the mountains. A beautiful place, one Bilbo wouldn’t mind visiting someday, but Erebor never makes much of a splash in the news.

“I find that some cheekiness in life tends to take you far,” Bilbo says, once he’s got control of himself. “Though you mustn’t tell anyone I think so, Mister Durin, because I’ve built a fierce reputation in my hall,” he adds to Fili with a smile.

Fili grins. “Not a word,” he says. “Doctor Grey was going to show us your hall later.”

“Have at it,” Bilbo says. “It’s empty now, after all.”

“You won’t be joining us?” Thorin asks.

“Doctor Baggins is particular about his tea,” Gandalf says. “We could stop and take a cup with him if you’d like.”

Fili looks at Thorin with a grin, but Bilbo notices the other two men don’t look particularly happy. And they do actually look like bodyguards, which makes Bilbo think that perhaps Thorin and Fili are indeed important people.

So he’d best keep his distance lest he embarrasses himself or scares Fili off.

One of the men, the taller one, bald with a large mustache, grumbles something in Khuzdul, to which the rounder, red-haired one at his side nods in grave agreement.

Thorin doesn’t look impressed. “We’ll take tea with Doctor Baggins,” he says. “And let Fili have the opportunity to speak with his potential future professor.”

Bilbo wants tea alone to enjoy the quiet, but he supposes he can’t win everything, and with a sigh, leads them into the cozy staffroom.

There are numerous chairs and tables and sofas, soft but rich carpeting and old paintings on the walls. There is a large hearth that’s cold at present, but coffee machines and plenty of tea choices are available.

It doesn’t surprise Bilbo that both Thorin and Fili choose coffee. Bilbo makes tea at Fili’s side as he launches into his interests in literature and the English language and how that came about. Thorin’s doing, reading him too many books, but Fili sounds fond, and Thorin looks fonder.

That doesn’t do anything for Bilbo’s heart, and he simply tries not to stare at Thorin.

They sit at a table, and Bilbo listens to Fili, who is clever and sharp, reminding him of himself, with a mischievous side that’s endearing. He’s clearly close to his family, his mother and brother and uncle, but says he’ll still be able to visit them often.

Bilbo is slightly uneasy about the bald bodyguard standing watch at the door as if he expects someone to kick it down. Still, neither Thorin nor Fili says anything that suggests who they might be, nor does Gandalf, though he looks highly amused for some reason or another.

“You might as well enroll Fili now,” Bilbo says when Fili pauses to breathe, smiling at Thorin, “he’s an honorary student already.”

Fili beams. “See, Uncle? I told you I’d be coming here back when I was eleven.”

“Normal aspirations for an eleven-year-old,” Thorin says with amusement as he looks at Bilbo. “His brother wanted to be an astronaut.”

Bilbo laughs. “Well, why can’t he?” he asks. “Mister Durin here seems to be making his dreams come true.”

“Because Kili can’t seem to choose between astronaut, guitarist, some sort of camp counselor, a bow and arrow instructor, or motorsport driver,” Fili says with dryness Bilbo can appreciate.

Thorin looks at Bilbo with dryness to match. “An exhausting lad on his best days. Like this one, who is sneakier about it,” he says and smiles when Fili waves his hand dismissively. “Most decorum lessons have gone in one ear and out the other,” Thorin says to Bilbo. “I suppose he’ll fit in.”

Bilbo chuckles. “Indeed he will,” he says and smiles when Fili grins.

“I do have questions,” Thorin says, a touch more seriously, “about the specific courses and certifications for the degree he’s interested in. May I take some of your time?”

“Of course,” Bilbo says, too quickly, “anything you’d like.”

Gandalf clears his throat. “If it wouldn’t cause any trouble, I can show young Master Fili the lecture halls he’ll be spending most of his time in,” he says and winks at Fili.

“You don’t want to hear about the coursework?” Thorin asks Fili, his eyebrows raised.

Fili does look like he’s itching to hop up. He squints between his uncle and Bilbo before he smiles. “You can tell me later,” he says. “We have a lot to see still. Don’t worry, Gloin will be with me.”

Thorin peers at Fili skeptically before he glances back at the bald bodyguard, who is looking at the ceiling as if praying for patience. He looks at Thorin and firmly shakes his head.

“Alright, go on,” Thorin says, which seems to be the opposite of what the bald fellow wanted, “we’ll find you after.”

“Thanks! It was great meeting you, Doctor Baggins,” Fili says as he leaps up. “If I don’t see you later, expect me in the fall.”

“I suppose I’ll have to,” Bilbo says. He doesn’t like the way Gandalf is twinkling, but he leads Fili out of the room, which leaves Bilbo alone—sort of—with Thorin, which he’s only just thought of as being a problem. “Ah, well. Questions, you said?”

Thorin smiles as he looks at Bilbo. “Aye. A few of them, if you don’t mind,” he says and glances at his bodyguard, who sighs and walks closer. He pulls out a small tablet and hands it to Thorin, squinting suspiciously at Bilbo. “Don’t mind Dwalin,” Thorin says mildly as he unlocks an iPad. “He might have ended up here himself if he thought I could survive without him.”

Dwalin says something in Khuzdul that sounds rather nasty, but it makes Thorin smirk, a devilishly attractive thing, before he’s off to guard the door again.

“So,” Thorin says as he looks at Bilbo, “I’ve done my own research. You do have an impressive portfolio.”

Bilbo coughs. “Thank you,” he says. “Oxford runs in the family, so it’s in my blood. I never would’ve been a proper Baggins if it didn’t, you see.”

“How long has the Baggins family been attending Oxford?”

“Oh, ages. It might make us seem adventurous, but we’re not. Only inclined to our traditions and routines. My mother was the adventurous one, and she said if I didn’t get into some trouble here at least once a term, then I couldn’t be considered a Took either.”

Thorin smiles while Bilbo blabbers, which he’s embarrassed about, but Thorin doesn’t look like he minds. “A Took,” he says. “Your mother’s side?”

“Yes. The kind to go backpacking through Europe by themselves and return half-wild, but that’s the charming thing about them, I suppose.”

Thorin laughs and sets the iPad down on the table. “So?” he asks and smiles when Bilbo raises his eyebrows. “Did you get into trouble once a term?”

“Oh, goodness, yes,” Bilbo says. “Might’ve been sent packing if Doctor Grey wasn’t so fond of me. I offended my own professor’s sensibilities numerous times, but you can’t give Fili any ideas.”

“I’m afraid, Doctor Baggins,” Thorin says, “that Fili has plenty of ideas of his own.”

“Blast him then,” Bilbo says with a chuckle. “He does seem the mischievous type.”

“His mother and I age at double the rate of everyone else with Fili and Kili under our heels. I was a young man not too long ago.”

Bilbo laughs. “Well,” he says and shrugs. “You’re holding onto some youthfulness, you know. Best enjoy it while it lasts. I age double every year as well. Though I might have you beat, as I have countless under my heels.”

Thorin hums thoughtfully, his eyes glimmering. “You might be right. But you’ve earned a CBE, so I have to believe you’re handling it well.”

“That’s the thing about a Baggins, Mister Durin,” Bilbo says seriously. “We look like we handle anything well, but we’re always in a tizzy about everything.”

“You don’t seem to be in a tizzy now,” Thorin says equally seriously.

Bilbo taps his nose. “I’m a Baggins,” he says and grins when Thorin laughs. “Alright, let’s have a question or two, or we’ll be here all day.”

“That doesn’t sound like a terrible thing to me,” Thorin says as he looks at Bilbo. His smile is warm. “But I’ll try not to take up much of your time.”

That makes Bilbo’s cheeks feel flushed, and he clears his throat, but he can’t quite keep the smile off his face. “Well, I suppose my afternoon is free. Take up as much as you’d like,” he says. “Erm, so, shall we?”

Thorin smiles and nods. “From my understanding, Fili can choose to pursue numerous different certifications as well as his degree,” he says and gestures at the iPad. “He seems to think he’ll have time for all of them.”

“Some of them make time,” Bilbo says and stands. He grabs his tea and moves to sit at Thorin’s side, so he doesn’t have to turn his tablet. Bilbo points at it. “World Literatures is a popular course, as well as Medieval. It all depends on what he wants to do, of course. Become a lecturer, researcher, professor, esteemed librarian and the like. He mentioned research.”

“Aye,” Thorin says. “Perhaps the best thing for him for now. His greatest wish is to be normal, but being a Durin doesn’t always mean that,” he adds with a wry smile. “I’m sure his interest in the certifications is to escape for a while.”

Bilbo raises his eyebrows and looks at Thorin. He’s too close again, not that Bilbo didn’t choose the spot himself, and there’s something a bit unhappy about his eyes. “What’s he escaping from?” he asks curiously, though he’s not sure Thorin will say.

Thorin peers at Bilbo and smiles, a small thing. “Decorum lessons,” he says and smiles wider when Bilbo chuckles uneasily. “Not that I blame him. If I have any youthfulness on my side, he may just have time to complete them all.”

That’s not something Bilbo quite understands, but he feels gears turning as he tries to think of what Thorin means by it. There’s a pin on his lapel, the Ereborean flag, and Bilbo thinks of royalty.

Royalty, that’s what his students said. He’s still not sure if they were joking or if perhaps the monarchy has wandered into Oxford today without any warning.

“Well, ah,” Bilbo manages. “You seem to have plenty of time left.”

Thorin chuckles. “God willing,” he says with good humor. “Fili will likely be interested in World Literatures.”

Bilbo shoves aside the frankly disturbing thought of who Thorin and Fili might be, cursing his indifference to various monarchies, and discusses the courses offered. He talks about their multiple lecturers and other faculty and life at Oxford and tries not to stammer too badly when Thorin watches him, as if he’s interested in nothing else but what Bilbo has to say.

Which is, of course, true as it has to do with his nephew.

All good things must come to an end, and it isn’t long before Fili and Gandalf are on their way back, according to a text from Fili. Thorin thanks Bilbo and shakes his hand, and asks something surprising.

“I know this is likely inappropriate, but I’m usually involved with my nephews’ education, especially if it takes them abroad. Would I be able to contact you directly when he starts his term?”

Bilbo tries not to gape too noticeably. “Oh, erm… well, yes, that’d be fine. Better than going through a few channels to ask me a single question,” he mumbles, his palms sweating as he pulls out his phone. “By email or…?”

“Phone. I don’t have much patience for emails,” Thorin says.

It sounds like he means it, but Bilbo’s somewhat suspicious, and he feels Dwalin glaring at him, despite his back turned to him.

“Of course,” Bilbo says and tries to ignore his thundering heart.

They exchange numbers, and Thorin looks at Bilbo. He looks at Bilbo in a way that says it’s not entirely for Fili that he’s given his number; he looks at Bilbo in a way that says he’s interested in far more than Oxford.

Bilbo feels a bit faint when he shakes Thorin’s hand and exchanges pleasantries with everyone. Thorin mentions they’ll be in the area for another day, which makes Fili grin in such a way that Bilbo’s somewhat mortified about what he’s thinking because surely, well. Surely it’s not what Bilbo’s thinking.

He watches them go as he stands in the hallway with Gandalf, frowning and rubbing his chest because his heart hasn’t slowed down yet.

“It was sent weeks ago, you know.”

Bilbo blinks and looks at Gandalf. “Sorry? What was?”

Gandalf looks at Bilbo with a smile. “A faculty email that they’d be touring the school, my boy. Should I be offended you aren’t reading them?”

“I… am,” Bilbo says slowly and grimaces when Gandalf raises his eyebrows. “I delete every one of them from you if you must know.”

That makes Gandalf chortle, and he pats Bilbo’s shoulder. “Dear boy, I knew you were destined for wonderful things. But this is an adventure I must admit I didn’t see coming. Another meeting awaits!” he says and strides off down the hall.

Bilbo stares after him, his mouth hanging open. He hurriedly fishes for his phone and opens his email. He scrolls through deleted emails until a few weeks back and sees one from Gandalf that he vaguely remembers scoffing at and deleting.

Attention All Staff: Royalty Awaits!

He’d deleted it because those dramatic sorts of subjects never amount to anything exciting, and Bilbo feels a pit in his stomach as he shakily opens the email.

Erebor royalty, King, Prince, behave appropriately, emphasize exceptional students and accomplishments, and quite a lot more words but Bilbo’s feeling woozy.

He stares off down the hall and thinks about their conversation. All of it, every word, not behaving appropriately at all and good gracious, he’d called them both Mister Durin, not even their proper titles.

Bilbo blames Thorin, of course, he certainly knew Bilbo had no idea who they were and didn’t bother informing him. But maybe he liked that Bilbo was candid with him, or maybe he was amused, or maybe there are too many reasons he might not have.

And it’s a foolish thing to do. The most foolish thing Bilbo’s ever done, he thinks, as he opens a new text message under Thorin’s name. Just Thorin, that’s what he put when it should be King Thorin. If he should have his number at all.

This is highly embarrassing and I must thoroughly apologize.

It doesn’t take Thorin long to reply.

I’d rather you not feel that way, but perhaps I owe you the apology. I’ve been told I lacked decorum more than anyone today. I’d like to make it up to you.

“Oh, blast it all,” Bilbo mumbles and leans against the stone wall for support.

Only if I can make it up to you.

Over dinner?

I’m sure I could clear my schedule.

Mine’s already open.

An adventure, indeed, and though Bilbo has his suspicions about Gandalf’s involvement, well… adventure and belonging and life-changing things have always happened to him at the University of Oxford.

Who’s to say they should stop now?