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Chapter Text

Bilbo huffed and then let out a massive sneeze which nearly tossed him right over Myrtle's head in a pile of Hobbity embarrassment. Fumbling about in his pocket for the "handkerchief" Bofur had so kindly given to him, Bilbo pressed the square of rough material against his nose and checked that no residual snot was stuck to his face. Certain that he was as presentable as a Hobbit could be while stuck on the back of a Yavanna-curse-it pony in a chain of Dwarf-laden ponies following a mad wizard on a horse out of his familiar Shire and into the foreign Wilds.

Bilbo waved a fond farewell to his respectability, which had died a horrible death sometime between Hobbiton and the Brandywine Bridge. Nothing for it now, was there? Even if he ever did present, no Hobbit would have him for a mate now; although he would probably manifest as a Beta anyhow after all this time unscented.

Not there was anything wrong with being a Beta. Gandalf was a Beta. So were Bilbo's own parents. There was nothing shameful in being a Beta. Even if he presented so late.

Most Hobbits Presented the same year they came of age, with a few exceptions on either side of their thirty-third birthday by a year or two. But more than thirty-six years of age was unheard of for anything other than a Beta. So Bilbo Beta Baggins pulled himself together after his fortieth birthday despite his lack of presenting, and had gone about beginning his life as a permanent bachelor.

A little more than ten years later, and here he was, still unpresented, astride a pony bound for elsewhere and adventure. If his bachelorhood hadn't been guaranteed before it was sealed and buried now.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

About a week outside the Shire, the company was camped on defensible hillside for the night and a chilling noise filled the night air. Bilbo's heart froze in his chest and seemed to pinch his voice higher. "Are there- are there wolves out there?" He managed, sweat breaking out across his palms.

"Wolves? Naw, Master Boggins," Kili began.

"Orcs though," Fili cut in. "Plenty of those."

"Aye, throat-cutters, silent as shadows." Kili's face was slanted with shadows cast by the fire, aging and haunting his sharper features. "No screams, no noise, just lots of blood."

Bilbo's heart was now beating so rapidly in his chest that the ice which had frozen it solid was now shattered into shards which seemed to pierce his lungs, causing each breath to be a painful gasp.

Thorin’s displeasure thundered in, "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

Had they been teasing? Bilbo turned his startled gaze from Thorin back to his nephews. To be sure, there were twins expressions of guilt and shame across their features.

Bilbo sighed in relief, feeling warmth in his chest as his lungs fully expanded once more.

"You two know nothing of the world.” There was a harsh bite to Thorin's words as he turned his back to his nephews and went to observe the plains below their camp.

"We were just..." Kili began.

"Ah, lad," Balin spoke up, walking closer to the trio. "Thorin's got more cause than most to hate orcs."

What followed was nothing short of a legend, a heroic telling of a prince, pinned down against all odds to receive heaping after heaping of sorrow, only to rise above it and strike back against his enemies, driving them away. "And I knew then, there was one I would follow. There was one I could call King."

The camp had stilled to listen to Balin's speech, and now the camp turned to face their leader, each dwarf and Hobbit, eyeing the one called Oakenshield in a new light.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

Three days later, Gandalf led the company to a clearing around a ramshackle farmhouse, or what was left of it. It had clearly been burned some time ago, but Bilbo was more concerned with the harvest of vegetables he could see peeking through the furrows of the few rows scattered on the eastern side of the crumbled structure.

As camp was set up and firewood gathered by the rest, and in spite of Gandalf storming off like a moody tween, Bilbo set to work plucking carrots, pulling potatoes, and gathering mushrooms. He then showed his bounty to Bombur, who grinned broadly at the offering. "We'll have a fine soup tonight, Master Baggins, between this and the three conies Mister Dwalin got for us!"

Happy to be useful, Bilbo washed and cut the vegetables while Bombur skinned and sliced the rabbits as the water heated. A generous pinch of salt, and a few, precise pinches of herbs later, and a fine smelling meal began enticing each of the dwarves to sit closer by the fire as they kept busy with their odd tasks for the night.

Bilbo scratched at his thigh idly, cursing horsehair under his breath as he readied all the bowls for the company. Dwalin sat near his brother and Thorin, discussing their plan for the next day's trek, and was cleaning his hunting gear. Gloin was polishing his axe, while Oin double-checked his medical stores and made loud comments to his brother about just what things he'd need to be on the lookout for in the underbrush soon enough.

Ori was scribbling away in his journal, although what he could be writing, Bilbo couldn't imagine, the only thing which had happened that day which could be of any interest, was Gandalf's temper tantrum, and that couldn't need more than five sentences to explain diplomatically. But then, Bilbo knew little of writing in dwarvish. It could perhaps take several pages to communicate what four words could do in Common. Dori was stitching away some mending of his while Nori napped behind his brothers, in preparation for his watch later that night.

Bifur was standing near the way they had come, on guard already. Bofur sat nearer to Bombur and Bilbo, smoking quite happily at his pipe, eyes closed.

Fili and Kili were out of sight, but busy guarding the ponies. Bombur gave Bilbo his share after Thorin and Dwalin had theirs. Once all the company, not including Fili and Kili, had been served, Bombur tucked in to his own bowl. Bilbo savored his meal, the best they'd eaten on the road so far, but it was gone too quickly still. He rose to see if seconds were on offer when Bofur passed him two bowls, filled to the brim, "Mind taking this down to the lads? I'll set aside another share for you."

Bilbo nodded, ashamed at having forgotten two of their number were still without supper, but he could hardly be blamed when he was still adjusting to two and half meals a day rather than his typical seven.

"Sure," he said and reached for the two bowls.
Being careful not to spill any of Bombur's delicious soup, but walking quickly enough to get back to his still-warm bowl in a soonish manner, Bilbo finally found the two heirs of Durin. The fairer prince was counting out loud while the darker was staring at the ground around him searching for something.

"Supper!" Bilbo called out, lifting the bowls a bit.

"Bilbo!" the two dwarves cried out in unison.

"Thanks," gushed Kili as he rushed forward to grab his bowl and began slurping at it shortly.

Fili was more sedate in his approach, "We've run into a bit of a snag." He plucked his bowl from Bilbo's grip and reached his fingers in to grab a chunk of potato. "We're supposed to be watching the ponies."

Bilbo rubbed his hands against his trousers to rub off some of the broth he'd manage to spill. "Yes?"

"We're missing two."

Kili chimed in, "Bungo and Minty are gone."

"Well, where'd they wander off to?" Bilbo asked as he looked around for the ponies.

"We think whatever did that took them," Fili answered. "That" was apparently a tree as big around as the door of Bag End which had been pulled out of the soil and knocked aside.

"Oh dear."

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

To be fair, it hadn't been one of Bilbo's finest moments. But then, that wouldn't be any different from the rest of his time spent on this mad dash from Bag End to Erebor. Hobbits, when they did travel, tended to take strolls throughout the Shire's hills, not treks past the limits of Bree into foothills and wilds.

Still, Bilbo thought it meant he was improving in his
wandering skills if Fili and Kili trusted him with a mission to retrieve their now four missing ponies from a troll camp.

Shouldn't be a problem for Hobbits who were quite efficient at moving soundlessly and going unnoticed when they wanted.

Right?

Chapter Text

Bilbo suddenly found his throat incredibly dry. Clearing his throat as quietly as possible, he shook out his suddenly tense limbs and blinked his eyes a few times.

"I am the Baggins, of Bag End, and the Company Burglar." Shaking his head one last time, he crept forward, ignoring the sinking feeling pooling in his gut, and maneuvered on tip-toe until he was beside the pen holding the ponies. Now what? "Fresh nags!" sang one of the trolls, if sang is the right term. Bilbo shuddered as the overlarge trio bickered over a pot of something which stank like a three-days dead, rotten mess. Gagging, Bilbo shifted from one foot to the other, tension coiling low in his belly as he wiggled his fingers at the ropes binding the enclosure. Yanking as powerfully as he could manage, Bilbo quickly dismissed brute strength as a method of freeing the ponies. Casting his eyes about the troll camp for a tool, his eyes lighted on the dagger in the belt of one of the trolls.

A plan in mind, Bilbo made his way around the edge of the camp, nervous energy thrumming through his veins, leaving his tendons taut and ready to leap into action. Once behind the troll in question, Bilbo studied the possible angles of approach and moved forward. Only to quickly duck down as the troll stood to scratch it's rear. Bilbo's nose twitched in disgust and his nerves slipped away. Once the troll was seated once more, Bilbo straightened his suspenders and leaned forward. His hands had just gripped the handle of the blade when a massive troll hand wrapped around him and yanked him from the ground.

What followed was a series of events better left unremembered for any without sensibilities of steel, but it ended with the whole company in various states of undress and anger. Half the company was trussed up in sacks, while the rest had been bound to a spit and were currently revolving over a much larger fire.

Bilbo huffed to himself. He was still hungry. And the sack was hot and itchy, although certainly not as hot as being roasted over a fire. But still. And he had a terrible itch forming between his shoulder blades.

Grimacing, he leaned back against the nearest dwarven boot, which he assumed was Fili's. That particular offense shortly settled, Bilbo returned his focus to the trolls which had somehow managed to outwit and outmaneuver their company, which was highly insulting given the astonishing lack of brains the trolls possessed.

"...nearly dawn. I don't fancy being turned to stone!"

Well. Now there's an idea.

Bilbo glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough a bit of light was peaking through the tops of the surrounding trees. But how to stall them?

"I'm hungry NOW!"

Cooking and food and being hungry, certainly all things he could natter on about for a bit. "You're cooking them wrong," he called out, voice choking on a couple of the syllables.

"You what?" asked the first troll, wearing something that could potentially be a representation of an apron, if one squinted. Maybe.

"Well...," Bilbo shuffled to a stand in his bag, twine cutting into his collarbone with a wince. "Have... Have you smelt them?" He gestured as well as he was able to the pile of dwarves behind him. "You'll need more than sage before you plate this lot up!"

"Traitor!"

"I'll remember this!"

"Just you wait until I get my hands on you!"

The dwarves continued to bellow more abuse at him as the trolls seemed to contemplate what he had said. "Well, what's the secret to cooking dwarf?"

"The secret? Yes. Yes, the secret. The secret is..."

"Get on with it!"

"Yes. I was just. Hmm." Bilbo shuffled around on his feet to get out of range of Kili's rather energetic kicks. "The secret to cooking dwarves is...." Bilbo's mind went blank. 'Meat,' he thought, 'dwarves would be meat. What's the secret to cooking meat?' "...to SKIN them first!"

Vindictive threats from the outraged dwarves continued until a troll decided he's waited long enough for his supper and scooped Bombur up by his spectacularly braided beard.... or was it his hair? Sideburns?

"Not that one!" Bilbo shouted, unable to stop himself.

"Why?" one of the trolls asked, peering closer at him so as to potentially prevent any funny business on the part of the "flurraburrobbit".

"Because he's got.... worms... in his... tubes," Bilbo finished rather weakly.

"Ugh!" recoiled the troll, tossing Bombur back onto the pile of dwarves, much to their consternation.

"In fact, they've all got parasites. Infected, the lot of them." Bilbo was picking up speed now, pleased as punch that his foolproof scheme was working. "I'd not risk it."

"I don't have parasites!" Bilbo was going to kill Kili. "You've got parasites." Yeah, Thorin was going to have to make do with just one nephew.

A suspicious noise cut through all the protests, creating a moment of silence before all the dwarves began shouting, "I've got parasites!"

"Mine are the biggest parasites!"

"I've got parasites as thick as my arm!"

Bilbo looked up at the trolls and prayed to Yavana, Mahal, Eru, anyone that the trolls were just dense enough to buy it with how thick the dwarves were laying it on. Subtlety must not be a particularly dwarven virtue. And apparently the troll chef had at least two peas to rub together in his noggin, because he leaned down and poked Bilbo in the chest, "The little ferret is taking us for fools!"

Bilbo jerked back with an affronted gasp, "Ferret?!"
"Fools?"

"The dawn take you all!" Gandalf? Bilbo jerked his head to the side, and sure enough, there he was posturing on a massive boulder. Couldn't the wizard have shown up earlier and made himself useful?
"Who's that?" asked a troll.

"Can we eat him too?" asked a second troll.
"We can try," answered the "chef".

And without much more ado, Gandalf did something with his staff which caused the boulder to split and sunlight to flood the clearing, morphing the trolls into troll statues.

Bilbo let out a relieved gasp, collapsing forward, hands braced against his keep to keep himself upright. His arms were shaking something awful, but his legs were worse. He choked out a small cough as the bagged dwarves cheered. Those on the spit were quickly begging to be let down.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

The troll hoard reeked enough to keep Bilbo firmly on the outside of the cave, enjoying being out of his troll sack, although he and his clothes could do with a thorough wash. He shuddered a bit when he contemplated just what marred his second-best dinner jacket. Better not to think about it at all, really.

"Here, Bilbo. This looks to be about your size." Bilbo eventually took the sword from Gandalf, but he certainly wasn't happy about it. Although, his mother was probably laughing at him from her seat in Yavana's garden.

The company went onto full alert at the loud movement of something through the underbrush, only for a brown wizard riding a sled pulled by... giant rabbits? showed up in their midst. Did he have birds nesting in his hair? A mated pair? Laying eggs and.... IN his HAIR? Bilbo's nose wrinkled up almost without his permission.

Then a low growl sounded up and behind him, causing him to spin around quickly, heart tattooing rapidly. "Was that a wolf?"

"That's no wolf."

And so Bilbo saw his first warg. To be fair, he could have very happily never experienced this particular first, but Bofur and Dwalin had felled the demonic, overgrown wolf in short order. Thorin and Fili took care of the second. Bilbo found the air returning to his lungs; when has he stopped breathing?

"Scouts. A warg pack won't be far behind." Thorin's voice brooked no arguments.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo asked the closest dwarf, which in this case happened to be Bifur. "but did he just say, "warg pack"?"

Bifur grunted at him and hefted his spear meaningfully. Bilbo swallowed, trying to force his knees to not knock together. "Ah...."

"We've lost the ponies!" Ori's high cry deflated Bilbo even further. So, this was how a Baggins died in the wild, wearing a dinner jacket liberally sauced with troll snot, crushed to death by the jaws of a mammoth wolf. Good to know.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~~

Well, despite their best efforts, the wargs didn't injure any members of the company, and the dwarves showed themselves dramatically well in the melee as they sprinted for cover. Good fellows to have about in a pinch, dwarves. Bilbo nodded to himself. "Very next adventure I go on," he muttered, "must include dwarves if I want to live."

"That's the spirit, Bilbo!" Bofur cheered. "Here now, you're looking rather pale. Sit, sit before you fall over."

Bilbo sat. Bofur was a smarter dwarf than Bilbo had given him credit for. Bilbo leaned back against the stone behind him and inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to ignore the awful scent of orc blood. His legs were jelly, he mused, but heavy jelly and not at all good for spreading on toast. He couldn't feel his arms, but he also didn't feel like they'd been ripped off, so that was good. Mostly, Bilbo was tired. Between the full day's march, followed by the troll debacle that took up the whole night, and now this wargs with orcs incident, Bilbo thought he had earned a bit of a lie-down somewhere and a hot bath.

"I can't see where the path leads? Do we follow it or no?" Dwalin's deep rumble seemed to echo through the cavern.

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur's voice was much closer and far too loud. Oh dear, were his ears ringing?

Chapter Text

The journey through the caverns towards their outlet took a long while, and Bilbo started to feel his muscles aching with each step. His head was heavy too, little sleep and too much of an adrenaline rush were taking their toll.

He had aches in parts of his body he didn't know could ache; his back and legs were casualties of his run and nights spent sleeping on the hard ground. His head was pounding with a horrid headache, from the melee and his lack of sleep, and his stomach was cramping fiercely, reminding him that he hadn't had more than one shallow bowl of soup since the breakfast of cram the day before.

"Watch your step, there, Master Baggins," Bofur chastised as Bilbo tripped over his own toes. Bilbo nodded and then tripped again, this time falling to his knees as a bright burst of pain exploded from his navel.

"Bilbo!" The pain exploded again, this time in his skull, and he passed out.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

He woke several minutes later, in Dori's arms as the company marched on. "There now, Mister Bilbo." Dori's voice was soothing like his scent.

Bilbo huddled closer to the strong dwarf, and tipped his head back, meeting his gaze with confusion.

"What happened?"

Dori gave him a small, tight smile. "Well, Mister Bilbo, you presented."

Bilbo blinked up at him a bit. "Oh." He looked down and thought about that for a few minutes. "But, when a Beta presents, it isn't supposed to hurt?" He looked back up at the omega carrying him closer to come source of light.

"Oh, Bilbo," Dori whispered. "You didn't present as a Beta. You're an Omega, lad."

Bilbo stared at Dori, face blank. "What? But I can't be! Hobbit Omega's present before their coming of age! I'm nearly two decades past that!"

"I can assure you, lad," Balin's voice sounded from just ahead of him, causing Bilbo to turn his head.

"Master Dori here is correct. You have presented as an Omega, despite any Shire records disputing late-presentations." Bilbo slowly became aware of greenery behind Balin's head and tried to pull himself upright in Dori's arms to get a better look.

"Where are we?"

Gandalf spoke up from behind Dori, answering, "Imladris. The Valley of the Elves, though it has another name in the common tongue."

"Rivendell," Bilbo breathed out reverently, gazing for the first time on the home of his mother's friend.

Dori pulled Bilbo more tightly to his chest amid the grumbling of the other dwarves. A breeze cut through the mouth of the cavern and Bimbo shivered, pressing in against Dori's furnace-like warmth.

"Bilbo is shivering," Dori hissed to the company.

"Ah, yes," murmured Gandalf. "His first heat will be upon him soon." The response from the dwarves to that particular statement was to hurry on along towards the nearest fortifiable space where Bilbo could be cared for, even if it was riddled with elves.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

Bilbo recalled the chill of the wind as the dwarves approached the Last Homely House, but then he zoned out, trying to fall asleep, because he was so comfortable. For how strong he was, Dori was incredibly soft.

The sound of stampeding horses filled Bilbo's ears and and he cried out, curling more tightly into Dori's grip with a whimper. Hadn't he been through enough today?

The dwarves closed ranks, with Dori and his armful of Hobbit at the center.

The horses, and their elven riders, circled the dwarves until they were called to a halt. Their leader dismounted and addressed Gandalf, asking him about the orcs from earlier.

Bilbo groaned, shuddering away from his memories from the earlier melee.

The elf leader's gaze turned sharply to the huddle, prompting Gandalf to speak, "We have an omega who has just presented, my lord Elrond. If you would be so kind to offer us shelter?"

"Of course," the elf responded. "Follow me, this way."

And so the dwarves were led into a section of rooms for their use. Off to the side was an inner room, inaccessible from without the main chamber. "Will this suit your needs?"

"Thank you, yes," Dori said primly, bending his head slightly before he quickly carried the whimpering Bulbo into the room. He was flanked by Balin, Bofur, and Nori, who pulled the doors shut behind himself.
The remaining dwarves, all Alphas or unpresented settled themselves around the entrance chamber anxiously, taking rudimentary defensive positions.
Elrond nodded to them before addressing Thorin, "Thorin Oakenshield, I will post several attendants without this chamber, should you need anything for the Omega, simply inform them and your needs will be met swiftly."

Thorin nodded in response, teeth pressed tightly together to stop himself from growling.

Elrond bowed slightly to the Dwarven King before departing the chamber, doors falling shut in his wake.
Not two minutes later, Bofur stuck pushed himself through the other doorway and began reciting a list of needed supplies. The alphas in their party quickly took to the elven attendants to procure the supplies.
Once Bofur had all he could hold, he returned to the room, only to be replaced by Nori to gather the remainder.

Five long minutes later, and the alphas began pacing again, guarding the perimeter. Ori, Fili, and Kili finally stopped trying to get the Alphas to sleep and curled up in a few of the available beds themselves.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

Bilbo was conscious the whole night.

He understood that Dori was speaking to him and was guiding him from one thing to another: the chilled bath, which felt heavenly, to the cool and clean bed with fresh, silken sheets which awaited him. Why was he so hot?

He drank the cooled tea Bofur handed him, the miner's larger hand surrounding his own as he drank deeply. Why was he so parched?

Balin's low voice spoke calmly to him, tone even and solid, a foundation he could rest against, even if the words sounded like gibberish. That probably wasn't Bilbo's fault, despite the ringing in his ears. These confounded dwarves often spoke in Khuzdul around and over him. It sounded nice though, and he couldn't really be bothered to pay attention, even if they had been speaking Westron, so he just laid back on the pillow, enjoying Nori's hands in his curls, soothing the stress from his head and neck. He hadn't even realized his muscles were so tight!
He groaned in appreciation, and soon four sets of dwarven hands were rubbing out his over-taut limbs, washing the exposed skin with cool, wet cloths.
Had he really presented as an Omega? He must have, what with the fever and aches, but, this was seventeen years too late! How could this be? He whimpered as confusion setled over him, only to calm as Dori began a lullabye that wrapped right around his Omega soul. Oh. So that's what it felt like when Omegas crooned together. No wonder they did it all the time!

Bilbo tried crooning back, but his tongue felt swollen. Dori's crooning slowed down, and eventually, Bilbo got the hang of it. Shortly after that wonderful moment where his body felt as light as morning sun streaming through a glass window, he drifted to sleep.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

The next morning, Bilbo woke, well-rested but sore and aching all over. "Dori?" he asked, feeling like a lamb bleating for its mother.

"I'm here, Bilbo," Dori's voice reached Bilbo's ears in the same heartbeat his sweet bread smell reached the Hobbit's nose.

Bilbo snuggled over to the older Omega. His uncertainty filled the air with a tepid water smell, and Dori wrapped him up in a swift embrace. "What's the matter, Bilbo?"

"Wel, I never thought I'd present as an Omega... What... What does it mean? I mean, I know I'll get the heats every month and-"

"Every month!" Dori shouted, stirring the sleeping Betas around them. "Dwarven Omegas only go into heat twice a year!"

Bilbo's mouth shaped a silent 'oh'. "Hobbits have a heat each month. We're tied to the moon. Each full moon will bring the onset of another heat. This first one was so light because it isn't dependent on the moon, just on presenting... Making all the changes in my scent and biology. You... What are dwarves tied to?"

"The sun," Balin answered. "As the sun makes it's journey to longest day from shortest throughout the year, dwarves respond to each summit. The longest day and the shortest day each prompt Omega cycles. And the Omega cycles prompt Alpha ruts." He stood and dusted his jacket. "Before we continue, are you feeling a bit peckish? We can continue our discussion as we eat, I think."

Bilbo's stomach rumbled loudly in response. Bofur laughed and fell back onto his pile of pillows on the floor. "I'd say that's a yes." Balin chuckled as he walked to the door, and conversed with the Alphas still on watch without.

Chapter Text

Bilbo allowed the new information to simmer in his mind as he and Dori bathed, the chilled water far from comfortable now that his fever had abated, but it was refreshing to rinse himself of all the sweat.

Dori then led him to a small heated pool where they each scrubbed and soaped their hair, and wasn't Dori without his braids done a sight to behold.

"Dori?" he asked quietly as he rinsed soap through his foot hair. "Why do you bother with all those braids?"

Dori reached up and began wringing water out of his voluminous, silver hair. "Braids are important to dwarves, Bilbo. They are a means of claiming kin, of proclaiming your trade your station, your honor, and of declaring to the world whether you are unattached or if your heart belongs to another."

"Oh?"

"When I put my braids back in, I will show you more." Dori seemed to take that as the end of the matter and stepped from the pool, only to scoop up their discarded clothing into a basket. Dori helped himself to a selection of towels and soon was adorned in a wine-red robe, it was a bit long but perfect in measurements of width.

Bilbo clambered out of the bath after him and dried himself off, behind his ears and between his toes like a proper hobbit. Finding an emerald green robe in a size which appeared designed for him, he quickly clothed himself and trotted after Dori, who stood waiting for him at the door, basket propped on his hip.

As they entered the room, Nori moved forward to take the basket from his brother and carried it out through to the outer chamber, so the clothing could be washed. It was then Bilbo noticed the large breakfast laid out near the bed.

His day certainly seemed much brighter than yesterday already!

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

After a meal of every kind of fruit Bilbo had ever seen, or heard of, and some delicious grains and sweet breads, Bilbo and Dori dressed in their newly cleaned clothing. Bilbo was certainly amazed by how thoroughly his red jacket had been removed of the troll snot.

"That would be my brother's handiwork, Bilbo," Balin said, a twinkle in his eye. "Always needing to clean blood and other messes out of his own clothes after a day spent giving lessons on the training pitch. He's developed an array of recipes for treating different stains."

Bilbo chuckled warmly, "Has he cleaned troll snot before, then?"

Balin smiled in return, "Nay, laddie, I'm thinking he worked on that tonic afresh this morning."

"Not a particularly common cleaning need, is it?" Bofur added from his seat as he juggled five grapes in his right hand, fingers flying.

"Where is Dawlin? And everyone else?" Bilbo asked, wondering at the continued isolation of the five them, the Omegas and the Betas.

"In the outer room," Bofur said, bobbing his head to catch a grape with his teeth. "Alphas been on guard and providing all this since we got here. The little ones have been trying to get them to stay calm. It does an alpha good, guarding an omega in heat with an unpresented by his side- means for less of a mess, anyhow."

Bilbo scrunched up his nose. "What'd you mean, Bofur?" He cast a quick glance to the closed door in askance.

"Well, with their ruts and all," Bofur shrugged.

"It's like this for dwarven Alphas, Bilbo," Nori cut in from where he lay on the pile of blankets beside the table. "An Omega goes into heat and they go into rut. But, when it is a first heat, well, they don't go fully into rut, especially with how we were running from orcs and now we are in the heart of enemy territory."

"Enemy?" Bilbo spluttered.

"What Nori means is that a dwarven Alpha would only consider you safe if we were underground. It has them on edge, but the presence of the three unpresented lads out there is helping to soothe and calm them. In part due to knowing the locations of all our Company members." Balin sighed, "But also in that an unpresented evoke a parental mindset in a Alpha. So they are les likely to stir up any undesirable incidents."

"He means they won't go picking fights with the elves," Bofur chuckled.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

Bilbo and Dori were settled on the bed, combing their hair, when Bilbo brought up the topic of braids once more.

"Well, Bilbo, it's rather simple, actually. To let down one's hair means very few things, all of which boil down to home and security. I would let my hair down with my den pack, or with my brothers. Or with any Omega who needed my care and guidance," Dori finished with a pointed glance at the Hobbit.

"And what is a den pack?" Bilbo asked curiously.

Chapter Text

"Wizard!"

The roar of an enraged Omega moved swiftly through the open halls of Elrond's house. The Alpha dwarves were milling protectively around their Omega and the Hobbit Omega currently held by one of the beta, who was wearing the most unusual hat ever seen by any elf.

Elves veritably poured into the chamber occupied by the dwarves, the few omega's among them seeking to croon and calm the dwarven omega, as the betas were working to keep everyone calm. The four elven Alphas included Lord Elrond and his sons, and one other elf. Elrond moved forward, "What is wrong, Omega Dwarf? How can we help you?"

Elrond's calm voice was tossed to the side by Dori's rage. "Gandalf! Tharkhun!" he roared, in the rage a mother bear must feel for her cubs. Bofur just pulled a whimpering Hobbit Omega closer to his chest.

The wizard entered into the room, bushy eyebrows raised. "Master Dori, whatever is the matter?"

The Omega seemed to physically restrain himself. Dori exhaled sharply through his large nose before asking, "Why was Bilbo never told about den packs?!?"

Suddenly every eye in the room shifted to the wizard in grey.

"What?" Gandalf asked warily. "Den packs? Why, Hobbits don't practice den packs, Master Dori."

"Don't..." Dori seemed to deflate, causing Ori to rush up to hug his older brother. "You mean to tell me they just expect one Alpha to care for one omega? How could they... Those poor Omegas.... The poor Alphas... How on earth..."

Nori pushed himself forward. "Now, Dori, let's get you and Bilbo back into the room. I think the poor lad was frightened by your outburst, and he could do with some crooning, if you would."

Dori turned sharply and stared at the ball of weeping and whimpering hobbit Omega in Bofur's arms. He marched toward the little Omega and scooped him into his arms. "There, Bilbo. I'm here," he said as he began crooning deep in his throat. "I wasn't mad at you, lad. It's that blasted wizard not sharing his information as he ought."

Dori moved into the room and ignored the Betas remaining behind to soothe the rattled Alphas.
Omegas raged so rarely that Dori's rage had accidentally driven Dwalin and Bifur into Berserker modes. Balin worked to soothe Dwalin as Bofur worked with Bombur. Thorin remained teetering on the edge of berserkergang thanks to the efforts of his nephews cuddling into him like kits.

Nori pulled the doors shut and sat against them, idly carving a bit of wood as he stretched his legs out before him. Dori settled the poor, shaken hobbit onto the bed and began crooning in full, cocooning the younger omega in blankets and safety.

It took about half an hour before Bilbo started resurfacing from his shock, and seeking out answers from Dori. Dori wasn't ready to answer just yet, having channeled his rage into a full-on crooning cycle. So, Bilbo gave in and just relaxed against the older Omega, telling him stories of his parents, how his dad was always drafting up this or that map, while his mother was always seeking to find the places these maps detailed.

It wasn't until nearly supper time before Dori was able to pull himself together and ask Nori to fetch food. Bilbo sat up, expectantly waiting to ask Dori all the questions filling his mind.

"Dori, could you explain den packs to me? And why you got so.... so...." Bilbo flapped his hand in a circle, unable to find a word which applied well to Dori's earlier fit.

"I went into Omega rage. It doesn’t happen often. Usually when a bearer feels his young have been threatened. And well, as you are just freshly presented, and I was the only one to step in, I suppose I felt paternally defensive of you. Then to discover you not only didn't have but had never heard of den packs.... That is tantamount to never being allowed to see sunlight for hobbits, I imagine." Dori inhaled deeply as Nori brought a tea tray ahead of the supper foods.

After a restorative cup, Dori continued, "To dwarven Omegas, a den pack is... It is sacred." Dori paused as Nori and Ori joined them with supper trays. The three Ris and lone Hobbit ate in comfortable silence until Dori continued, "A den pack is a gift of Mahal. A blessing. We are Mahal's creations, and he was nearly forced to destroy us by Eru. But, Eru took pity on us and allowed that we may live, but we must come after the elves, his second-born, as it were."

Bilbo drank the history lesson in avidly, ignoring the remaining food on his plate in favor of Dori's revelations.

"And so, when our seven fathers came to be, there were the first six, founders of the Firebeards and Broadbeams in Nogrod and Belegost, Ironfists and Stiffbeards far to the east, and the Blacklocks and Stonefoots of the Orocarni mountains. Last woke Durin, father of the Longbeards, Durin's folk. Durin, unlike his brothers, was an omega. And while his brothers each paired with beta dwarves crafted for them, Durin was burdened with the glorious purpose of uncovering the members of den pack, the alphas who would come together and be his partners, his spouses." Dori took another sip and glanced with meaning at Bilbo's salad. The hobbit grinned weakly and dug in with gusto.

Once his plate had been cleared, Bilbo asked, "So what... how does one... find a den pack? 'Uncovering' I think you said?" Bilbo's nose scrunched up in confusion.

Dori waved his hand in a so-so motion. "That is how it went for Durin, but we have no such dilemmas anymore with more abundant Alphas than Omegas in Dwarven society. You will have most Alphas eagerly courting your favor and praying that your interest moves to them. Any Alpha would be lucky to have an Omega as brave as you, Bilbo Baggins," Dori finished with a curt nod.

Nori chortled. "Them Alphas out there are already strutting like peacocks and hoping to impress you. Why do you think Dwalin spent more than three hours on that dinner jacket of yours?"

Ori snickered quietly into his mittens. "Three hours?" Bilbo asked incredulously.

Ori nodded with a smile, pleased on his hobbit friend's behalf. Bilbo rubbed a hand against the fine velvet over his ribs once again, admiring its restoration.

Nori laughed and started clearing up. Ori rushed to help. Dori rolled his eyes and assured Bilbo, "Do not listen to Nori's teasing, Bilbo. Any Alpha may put himself forth as a suitor, but you are not to give them any consideration until they have spoken with your guardian, which would be Gandalf, I suppose."

"But I'm well past being of age, Dori. I don't have need for a guardian, to be granting or withholding their blessing."

"In dwarven courting you do. For a dwarven suitor to ignore your guardian implies they believe you are worth less of their time and effort. Or that their intentions are not honorable. No dwarf would ever consider acting in such a fashion if he hoped to win the heart of an omega, let alone a place in that omega's den pack!"

"Oh," Bilbo said. He thought quietly for a bit, before asking, "What about elves?"

Chapter Text

"Elves?" Dori spluttered. There was a long stretch of silence in which an almost whine could be heard before Dori cleared his throat and asked again, in a whisper, "Elves?" Dori shook his head ferociously, jowls firmly following the jerk of his neck.

"You...Mhm." Dori cleared his throat once more. "Are you considering... Elven mates, then?" He finished rather primly.

Bilbo blinked at the clearly discomfited dwarf. "Well, no. But I haven't really been... seeking a mate? or mates, a... den pack? Um, it's just. You told me how dwarves do things. And then I told you what I do know of Hobbit customs in these...matters. I'm too afraid to ask about Wizards." Bilbo and Dori shared a horrified shudder. "But. Do you know how elves do things?" Bilbo tilted his head up at Dori, the gesture so reminiscent of a younger, equally curious Ori, that Dori deflated his anger with a sigh.

"I must confess, Bilbo, to being wholly ignorant in the.... dynamics of Elves. I would recommend, perhaps, approaching a healer, after your heat is finished in full. Or," here Dori hesitated and leveled a stink-eye at the Hobbit, "You could remain in ignorance until... a need to know otherwise arises."

And with that Dori washed his hands of the whole business.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

It was to Bofur that Bilbo next addressed his curiosity.

"But, why would anyone need to know about that?" Bofur asked, the unflappable dwarf scandalized.

"Well," Bilbo mumbled. "I didn't know about dwarven den packs and could have walked into something or offended someone or accidentally accepted something and I want to make sure that doesn't happen with the elves." Bilbo chuckled mirthlessly. "Can you imagine how the remainder of our quest will go if I'm accidentally bound to an elf from Rivendell or something?" Bofur's eyebrows disappeared under his hat.

"Well." Bofur twiddled his thumbs for a minute. "I need to have a word with Ori, and Thorin. Just... Just a moment." Bofur was out of the room faster than Bilbo could follow.

A minute later there was silence in the outer room, punctuated by several dropped objects thudding heavily against the stone floor. There was a much louder thud, followed by several barks of deep, loud Khuzdul, followed by mutters and grumbles in the same language. The final silence was broken only by the return of Bofur, accompanied by Ori.

"Would you like to go with me to the library, Bilbo?" the young dwarf asked.

Bilbo grinned up at him and agreed.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

"So," Bilbo asked the librarian, a lovely omega elf named Erestor, "Elves don't have partners for life, at all?"

The elf nodded in affirmative. Ori was scrawling madly into a little scrap of paper.

"Well," Bilbo asked, "why not?"

The elf shrugged. "Our lives are long, Omega Bilbo," the elf explained, using the elven greeting which still irritated Bilbo like a burr picked up on a jaunt to Frogmorton. "And, our lives are punctuated with very few defining events. And then there are those who begin to fade and need to return to the West. Would you bind those who are so dynamically changed by aeons to one another across the great sea?"

Bilbo scrunched his nose. It all sounded mad to him, but he supposed that spending two thousand years with Lobelia might be too much for his cousin, so perhaps the elf had a point. But when Bilbo stopped to consider spending five centuries without a partner, his heart broke.

The elf waited for Bilbo's response with a quiet patience.

"I see," was all Bilbo could manage. "Do you think you can take me back to the rooms, Ori. I'm feeling a little...." Bilbo trailed off, unable to find the politic word for the culture shock and information overload which had short-circuited his diplomacy.

"Of course, Bilbo! You should have told me if you weren't feeling well. Oh, Dori will be so mad with me!"

The two bustled down the corridors of Imladris at a light trot and made it back in unscathed and unstopped. "Dori!" Ori cried out, arms around Bilbo's shoulders, supporting the weight of the panting hobbit. Had a trot really been necessary?

"Bilbo!" Thorin's cry alerted the rest, and urged Bifur and Dwalin to hurry towards the winded Omega. "Are you hurt?"

"Who has hurt you?" Dwalin barked out.

Bifur grunted fiercely and gestured frantically.

The full force of these three aggressive confrontations coupled with being winded and bewildered earlier culminated in Bilbo's knees completely giving up. He collapsed within the protective circle the three alphas had formed and let out a low keening whine. He brought his hands to his collar and tried to bare his neck, his lungs begging for air.

"Bilbo?" Thorin's voice sounded from behind him, a solid pressure on his back.

He soon recognized Bifur's hands rubbing his legs, and Dwalin's face before his. "Stay with us, lad. Dori's making you a tea of summat good for you."

"That's it," Thorin encouraged, "deep breaths."

Dori appeared with the promised cup of tea, and Bilbo allowed himself to enjoy it without too much fuss. He glanced around the room and jostled the cup back into the saucer in surprise. "When did the sun go down?" His voice was lower, and his throat ached, like he had been screaming.

"It went down an hour ago, Bilbo," Dori answered. "Try not to talk if you can tonight, you keened for quite a while. Your throat will not thank you for any further abuse."

Bilbo sipped his tea, and looked up at the three Alphas tending to him.

Bifur spoke first, with Thorin acting as translator. "Ori explained about the elven mating customs. He also said you were... bothered... by them."

"Are you well now, Bilbo?"

"Was it just the conversation with the elf?"

Bilbo blinked back tears as he recalled the conversation with Erestor. He looked around the room, at the Alphas beside him, to Dori nearby, and to the rest, brought close.

He nodded up at the dwarves, and snuggled back against Thorin, and determined to finish his lovely honey and lemon tea.

Elves had strange, heart-breaking customs to be sure. And Hobbits were certainly better off. But perhaps, just perhaps, dwarves had it even better.

Chapter Text

Bilbo settled down for the night, once more cuddled up against Dori.

The day had word him out, and his throat was as sore as Dori had promised it would be.

"Dori," he asked. "Why were Dwalin and Thorin and Bifur so...."

"Protective?"

Bilbo nodded.

Dori settled back a litle and began weaving his fingers throuh Bilbo's hair, plaiting a few strands here and there. "You were keening, lad. You were hurting and in pain.so you called out in your distress.”

Dori's voice was a low and soothing rumble in his ear. "You've been through a rough few days. The trolls, the wargs and orcs, then your Presentation. It would be overwhelming for any dwarf coming of age. Add to it that you've had a late Presentation, and suspected yourself to be a Beta?" Dori shifted his bulk and moved his hands out of Bilbo's hair.

"I'm not sure how your life went before you joined us and the Presented, but now that you have Presented... Well, it's a different path than I'm sure you had intended. And now, you've learned how dwarves and elves choose and treat their mates. The Menfolk do not have Presentations."

Bilbo nodded, curly hair catching a little in the shortest bristles of Dori's beard and sideburns.

"Well, it can all be a little overwhelming to take in. And then to learn how Elves do things... We are on their land, in their buildings. And, I know I didn't imagine your reaction to seeing Rivendell. You are fond of the elves."

"My mother was. She told me stories of them; she visited Rivendell twice before she married my father. Lord Elrond himself named her Elf-friend."

Dori "hmm"ed before continuing. "And now you've seen them through the eyes of a hobbit Omega, not the tales of your Beta mother."

"I don't know what came over me... It was just so sad to contemplate." Bilbo shivered a bit but kept speaking, "I tried to imagine having Alphas like you said, but sending them on ahead of me to the Undying Lands and I just," Bilbo broke off with another tremble. "It's heart-breaking."

"Elves like their tragic romances, Bilbo. I know that much. And perhaps their age makes it an easier burden for their hearts to bear. Dwarves are very different. We burn deeply, like a forge kept at a working heat. Our forges only need repair if they are constantly lit and unlit. If kept at that heat, nothing can break it."

"Hobbits are more like gardens. I think Omegas were meant to be the sun, to an Alpha's soil. And so it's not so different an idea, I suppose for den packs. I can't imagine the sun complaining at two gardens to warm rather than just one."

Dori snorted. "Our Alphas will certainly be glad to hear you're contemplating the dwarven way of things."

Bilbo chuckled. "I think it's rather the sensible way, not the dwarven way. After all, I'm no dwarf."

Dori patted Bilbo's head, checking his braids before responding, "Let's get some sleep. You'll find your footing in the morning. Dwalin, Bifur, and Thorin will be especially pleased to see your cheer return."

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

The following morning did indeed find everyone in a much better mood. Bilbo chose not to leave the rooms they had been given, wanting to get his feet firmly beneath him again after all the new developments.

Bilbo started his morning by breaking his fast with the betas and Dori, before all five moved to join the Alphas and unpresenteds in the larger room. After dragging his feet for a minute or two, Bilbo rolled his shoulders back and moved to sit with Ori, Fili and Dwalin. Ori smiled up at the Omega as he took a seat, and scooted over to make more room. Fili kept telling the story he had started, switching from Khuzdul to Westron, and summarizing the start of the legend for Bilbo's benefit.

Dwalin had stiffened when Bilbo approached their group, but relaxed as Bilbo remained longer, seemingly unaffected. Once he had completely relaxed, Bilbo turned and grinned at him before focusing back on the story. It seemed their Company was back to normal once again.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

By lunchtime, the dwarves were all at ease, and prepared to treat with the elves, now that the pseudo-heat of a newly-presented omega and repercussions of that heat had passed.

Thorin, Balin, Fili, and Gandalf were soon sequestered in congress for some decision involving the map. Bilbo, Ori, Kili, Bifur, Dwalin, and Nori were all tidying up the rooms, or rather, Bilbo had begun tidying up, and the alphas quickly followed, leading to teasing participation from the rest. Dori, Bombur, Gloin, Oin, and Bofur were all perched on chairs around the hearth, cooking dinner or talking quietly.

"Dwalin, Bifur," Bilbo started, adjusting his armload of odds and ends. "I never thanked you for yesterday. And I wanted to. So, thank you." He bent in an abrupt bow, before hastily readjusting his arms so that none of his load spilled.

Dwalin and Bifur each nodded and bowed to Bilbo in return. Bifur spoke in the fierce and harsh tones which Bilbo had grown accustomed to over the course of their journey so far.

Dwalin translated. "He sayd you don't need to thank us; it is what any Alpha, any dwarf should do for any omega, no thanks or repayments required." Dwalin shrugged his large shoulders. "He's right, you know. You've presented as an omega, and any dwarf worth their salt is going to be tring to woo you, but there are some things they should just do if they possess any scrap of honor."

"Oh, well. You have my thanks all the same. Both of you, and Thorin. I'll tell him when I see him." Bilbo moved and tucked Kili's trousers into his pack, and stuck three of Fili's knives into his. Ori's scarf was passed over to it's owner, and soon the room was tidied to the Hobbit's satisfaction.

"If you're done nesting, Bilbo, food's ready." Bofur's voice was loud and earned a scoff from the hobbit, even as he hurried over to the hearth for his share of the food.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

The entire company was settled around tables for supper with elves when the first gift was delivered to Gandalf.

Chapter Text

As the hopeful suitor approached the wizard, silence overwhelmed the dais and dining hall. Sure steps brought the Alpha closer to the head table, and his head never wavered, right or left, in his progress.
"Mithrandir, I have been told all courtship offers for the Omega Bilbo Baggins must go through you for approval."

Gandalf harrumphed and managed to swallow down his wine. His eyes were wide beneath his fierce eyebrows, and he cast his gaze from the suitor before him to the hobbit in question whom he found staring in stunned awe at the Alpha claiming the attention of the room. "Y-yes. My friend, come forth with your offer, that I may pass it along, should it be worthy of my godson."

"Godson?" Ori whispered in a choked voice beside Bilbo. Bilbo couldn't do much more than nod, eyes riveted on the elf that wanted to court him.

Dori moved to stand beside Bilbo, saying nothing as the elf approached the table before Gandalf and laid his burden on the stone. Unwinding silk from his bundle he revealed his gift for the wizard's discerning gaze.

"Ah, Elrohir. This is a fine gift indeed. Is it yours to give." The elven prince nodded sharply at the age-old words. "And you wish for Bilbo to receive this gift from my hands in your name?"

"It is his to keep, Mithrandir, no matter his answer to my offer." The dark-haired elf bowed low, and stood, his brother moving to stand by his side. "And how do you find my gift, will it suit?"

Gandalf chuckled. "I find no fault with your gift, and I think Bilbo could do much worse than to be courted by the second-son of Lord Elrond. I will present your gift to him, and return to you with tidings of his reception or refusal."

Elrohir bowed low to Gandalf, then turned and levied a bow to the occupants of Bilbo's table as a whole rather than to Bilbo himself, before exiting the room, his twin brother tailing him.

Gandalf re-wrapped the mysterious gift, before returning to his meal and conversation with their host. It was then that Bilbo noticed Thorin to Gandalf's other side. The dwarf's face was ashen, and his mouth a tight line pulled between his close-cropped beard and mustache.

The glare the Alpha King in Exile was leveling to his dinner should have singed the tapestries.

Bilbo turned his shocked gaze to the other Alphas: Bifur seemed more occupied by the flowers in the vases along the table's length and Dwalin looked like a puppy that had just been kicked. None looked to Bilbo, or focused their attention on him at all. Well, that's certainly not how things would have happened in the Shire... He had expected some sort of bickering at least, especially considering the nature of dwarves he had been privy to prior to their stay in Rivendell.

He turned his gaze to the Omega dwarf stood at his elbow and raised a questioning brow.

"I simply wanted to remind you of what we spoke of during the tail end of your heat. The choice is yours, to accept or refuse a suit, no matter the standing, race, or status of the Alpha appealing for your consent. However, even if you say yes, you may end a courtship at any point you like, if you have deemed the other an unsuitable partner for any reason. If this elvish princeling is to your taste, and you are pleased by his gift, no one will stop you from accepting him." Dori's voice was quiet in the din of dwarven grumbles over the lack of meat, and the sounds of silver moving against plates.

Bilbo nodded his understanding, and with a clearer mind, he refocused his efforts on his dinner, nabbing several helpings of the salad and five of the lovely buttery rolls.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

"Bilbo, walk with me, will you? It's a good night for a smoke." Gandalf's words, while directed at Bilbo, inspired movement in all those in the dining hall. The serving elves hastened their steps in clearing away the dinner dishes, Lord Elrond moved out to seek his own rooms, and the dwarves started filing back towards their shared chambers.

Bilbo followed Gandalf out into the garden, and the two settled on a bench, Elrohir's still-wrapped gift balanced on Gandalf's lap.

The hobbit and the wizard each took the time to light their pipes with the flame Gandalf conjured on his fingertip, very useful trick that, and proceeded to blow smoke rings for a few minutes in silence. "How have you been, my dear boy, with all the changes? I know you weren't expecting to Present Omega."

"No. I wasn't. Especially after so long. I had assumed I had already had one of the lightest presentations ever for a Beta. But..." Bilbo blew a rather impressive smoke ring over the daises to his left. "Why would I have not presented when I came of age, Gandalf? Why would it have taken so long?"

Gandalf hemmed and hawed for a few moments before puffing strongly at his pipe. "The Fell Winter was shortly before you came of age, was it not?"

"Five years before. Why?"

"It could have began the delay. That stress, physically and emotionally, would have wearied an unbound omega nearly to the ground, Bilbo. And then your father died a few months after you came of age. And your mother passed on a few years later..."

"Could that really be it? There has to be a greater reason than stress, or grief, Gandalf." Bilbo huffed and blew out tiny clouds of smoke.

Gandalf stretched his limbs, allowing his joints to creak. "Bilbo. I do not know everything. What I do know is that you went through a lot, between those three events, in addition to bearing the mantle of your father's responsibilities as head of the Baggins clan and Hobbiton estates. And I know that you have now presented as an Omega. I cannot help but connect the potential link among these points, my friend."

Bilbo huffed. "It isn't your fault, Gandalf. I am sorry for snapping at you. It is just.... Startling, and not at all conducive to adventures. Especially with heats every new moon now. Ugh." Bilbo buried his head in his palms, pipe forgotten by his side.

"Well. The dwarves will be very understanding, I assure you. And Dori may be able to continue helping you with your heats until you find an Alpha who will suit your tastes. Speaking of..." Gandalf moved his hands to the bundle before him. "I was asked to offer this to you. It seemed like the sort of first gift a hobbit might normally accept, so I did not refuse it. I would present it to you now."

Bilbo wiped suddenly sweaty palms on his trousers and nodded jerkily, the nape of his neck prickling with anxiety.

Gandalf moved the folds away to reveal a floral crown. Woven with strands of mountain laurel were posies of amaranth trailing around and around in bright pink.

"Affection, and unchangeable immortality. Ambition. What sort of message is this, Gandalf? He would crown me as a prize, to share some of his time in fondness, and fade before him?" Gandalf hummed but did not reply. "What can you tell me about him?"

"Both sons of Elrond are much like each other. Both honest to a fault, and fierce in their decimating of orcs. Elrohir, your suitor, is more fond of his sword than the bow. Both are excellent horsemen, and fond of pranks. I do believe Elrohir is the one who preferred poetry to history lessons, and dangled from his mother's knee more than his father's."

Bilbo fiddled with the crown before returning it to Gandalf. "Would he allow me to continue on this venture?"

"Could he stop you?"

"No." Bilbo paused and mulled further. "Would he try to?"

Gandalf sighed. "Does the crown please you?"

"Not... no. It doesn't."

"Then you have refused his suit." Gandalf straightened and put out his pipe, prompting Bilbo to do the same. "And, I imagine, he would have strongly attempted to entice you to remain behind. Though I do not know whether he would have attempted to decide that for you, but, now we need not worry over it."

Gandalf escorted Bilbo back to the Company's rooms, and pressed a fond kiss to the top of his head. "I will go and seek out Elrohir."

"Will Lord Elrond be mad?"

"Hmm?"

"Will he be upset? That I refused his son? Will he kick us out?"

"My lad," Gandalf crouched before the Hobbit. "There are few indeed on Middle Earth who would hold such a decision against you or your companions. You need not fear that in the halls of Lord Elrond, of that I am certain."

Bilbo nodded and let himself into the room as Gandalf stood and walked away.

"Bilbo!" Kili called out, rushing over to the Hobbit Omega and gathering him up in a hug, drawing a laugh from the weary hobbit. He set Bilbo down and scanned him. "Well, where's your gift? What did the elf prince offer you? Can we inspect it?"

"Well," Bilbo said. "That will be rather difficult, seeing as I refused his gift. And his suit."

Shock was a palpable presence in the room. "You turned down his suit?" Thorin asked.

Bilbo nodded.

"And the gift?" Dori clarified. Bilbo nodded again.

"What sort of terrible thing could he have offered that you wouldn't even keep the gesture?" Dori's face was drawn in a hint of his Rage from earlier.

"He made me a flower crown. It. It's what hobbits do, although they are usually offered before the binding, not at the start of a courting. And the flowers were wrong."

"The flowers were wrong?" Fili mouthed.

"He used flowers that spoke of the shortness of time we would have, and how I would be a... a prize on his arm."

The dwarves shifted uncomfortably. "Well," Ori piped up, "You would die long before an elf, unless he fell in battle, Bilbo. And. Well, anyone would be honored to wed an Omega, dwarf, elf, or hobbit."

Bilbo sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Yes, but. Those flower crowns are supposed to be a promise of the joys the couple will share, not the sorrows. It the sorrows are listed as the joys? Well, that bodes very ill for the couple indeed."

The dwarves started nodding in understanding when Bilbo continued, "And, then Gandalf explained he might try to make me stay here and not..."

"What." Dori's voice was dangerously calm.

"Dori, the lad refused the offer. It ain't gonna happen." Nori was the first one over to his brother, and Bofur scooted Bilbo along towards the older Omega. "Your mothering instincts are really full-out for our hobbit, aren't they?"

Bilbo's eyes widened in realization. The older Omega had been standing around him like an anxious mother at dinner, and had been sure to explain once more that Bilbo was in charge of his own affairs.

"Dori," his voice was nearly a croon. "You know I would never allow an Alpha to court me if he thought to dictate my affairs, don't you? I've been a confirmed bachelor for some years now, and if anyone expects me to give up that title for them, they'd best be certain not to try bossing me around."

Dori's anger dissipated and the dwarf's puffed-up state soon deflated. The atmosphere in the room soon unwound into quiet revelry, jokes, and songs, around a small fire, in good company.

And if Bilbo noticed Bifur, Dwalin, and Thorin moving to sit closer to him. Well. He didn't say anything about it.

Chapter Text

Balin, Thorin, and Bilbo were called by Gandalf to join him and Elrond in the reading of the map.

The dark-haired Elf stood in scarlet robes before a pillar of some miraculous stone. Light infused the whole area, pouring through the parchemnt of the map. Runes of pure starlight seemed to carve themselves into an empty space on the map. "Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole."

Bilbo recognized a riddle when he heard one. "That is spectaculary unhelpful." Bilbo's voice was quiet and a twinkle in Gandalf's eye implied he had heard but no one else reacted in any way Bilbo could see. He reminded himself sternly to watch his tongue. His words were clearly smaller than the great words of Elrond or Thorin, both Kings in their own rights, and while his voice certainly mattered, perhaps it did not quite... belong... at a time such as this.

He folded his hands behind his back in a further reminder to step back and not get involved in the discussions and arguments brewing overhead among the taller folk and his dwarven companions. Rocking back on his heels, Bilbo turned his head and noticed a glowing insect flying lazily toward a corner of the nearby garden. Glancing back to ensure he wouldn't be missed, Bilbo followed the unique creature, eager to explore more of Rivendell before his party left for other (and probably less friendly or at least less full of such incredible gardens) realms and wildernesses.

He spent much of twilight wandering from new flower to new flower, each new discovery a novelty to a Hobbit raised to know plant life the way he knew meal times. The skin of his feet sang with each step in tilled and rich, loamy, black earth. He knelt often to examine the visible rootwork where possible, and delicately ran the pads of his fingertips along vines and the veins present in leaves.

His lungs felt full of good, warm air, and he stood taller, or straighter perhaps, for the first time in years. Lights burned down from the sky over Imladris, creating a gentle light which seemed to infuse the very petals of the flora surrounding the Hobbit Omega. He caught himself purring in contentment, fondly working to remove the weeds he did recognize from intruding upon the delightful flowers.

He began humming under his breath, a gardening song his father had taught him, simple words and an easy tune, imitating his light-hearted attitude.

It took him some time to notice Bifur, settled on the ground in one of the gardens, happily stringing simple clover-flowers together. "Hello, Bifur!"

The Alpha grinned down at Bilbo, and spread his arms wide, allowing a floral banner of some considerable length appear strung back and forth across his bulky arms. "Oh my! How long have you been working on these?"

Bifur brought his arms down and began adding another flower, waving a few fingers dismissively at Bilbo's question.

Bilbo laughed. "I know just what you mean, Bifur. What is time when one is in a good garden?" The two shared broad grins before Bilbo took a seat crosslegged beside Bifur. "Do you know what those flowers mean?"

Bifur paused in his work, and shook his head at Bilbo, waiting for an answer.

"Well, they mean a life of ease, or comfort, a carefree life of prosperity. Father tried to grow some over the top of our smial to little sucess. They're very good luck in the Shire. and well, a life of riches and comfort isn't the sort of wish a dwarf would turn his nose up at, I expect."

Bifur laughed, a great, booming sound, and nodded at Bilbo. "What are you going to do with all these, Bifur? They'll die in a few days unless you dry them."

Bifur grinned and tugged the last stem through the hole of the other and laid the first flower on Bilbo's head. Slowly, he wove the flower chain into a crown resting on Bilbo's golden curls. The Hobbit grinned happily and waited for Bifur to finish. Once the dwarven Alpha wound the last strands down, he plucked the crown up tenderly and began braiding it into a permant circle with spare flowers which littered the ground.

Bilbo would have been content to sit amiably in the quiet light of the garden, but his stomach rumbled rather loudly, calling out for more food before it had to spend the night without. Bifur grinned down at the flustered Hobbit and stood, stretching an arm out and pulled Bilbo to his feet. The two marched down the verdant path and found themselves back in the cool stone halls of Lord Elrond's Last Homely House.

They found their way to the kitchens and were given several sweet breads and no small amount of fruit, all of which Bifur insisted on carrying, flower crown strung over his axehead. They returned to the chambers, and Bilbo led Bifur over to Dori, Oin, Balin, and Fili who were all sat near a short table.

"Ah, there you are, Bilbo. Thorin was... concerned when you wandered off like that."

"Bilbo froze halfway between sitting and standing. "Oh," he hurriedly stood again. "I thought I wasn't needed and...well, the gardens were simply heavenly."

Bifur nodded stongly, not pausing as he doled food onto the table.

Balin smiled, "I know, laddie. Just, Thorin and some of the others are... on edge in Elven territory, even in times of peace. Things have not only gone well between our peoples. You are under our protection on this quest, Master Baggins. And as such, it is a concern when one of ours goes missing."

"I see. I hadn't meant to cause any stress, Balin, I just... The flowers were practically begging me to follow them. They seemed filled with moonlight."

Bifur growled a few syllables Bilbo couldnt quite discern and then some long sounds forced together with a whoosh of air through his teeth.

Balin smiled, "Yes, Bifur says the gardens were lovely and you seemed to be caught like a dwarf by their craft in your gardening. And I can see by Bifur's own... adornment, the flowers are quite in bloom this evening."

"My craft?" Bilbo asked, curious.

"It is a dwarven thing, perhaps," Fili began. "We dwarves were created by our Maker to imitate him in the action of creation. He took the raw materials of the earth and shaped dwarves. We in turn, take those raw materials and shape them into pieces which tell that story, or honor him by continuing his deeds. Every dwarf, when he or she comes of age claims his or her craft and pursues their mastery in the chosen craft. Though, most dwarves claim to be chosen by their craft and not the other way around!" Fili's broad grin inspired bolder questions from the Hobbit.

"Oh. And what is your craft, Fili? Did it call you or did you choose it?"

Fili laughed. "Statecraft called me, little Omega. I have the privelege of being born to this responsibilty, but the divine blessing of loving the craft and pursuing it gladly."

"Thank Mahal," Balin chuckled. "Statecraft is my own calling, as well. Though it is less a craft which called me and more a time where more statecrafters were needed. Thorin and Kili have little heart for it, though they pour everything they are into their best efforts for their people."

"If statecraft isn't their craft, what are their crafts?"

"I am a blacksmith, Bilbo. The forge sings my very name." The deep voice of the dwarven king sounded just behind him, causing Bilbo to tilt his head back up to look at Thorin. "I was beckoned by the deep forges as a very young dwarf. My younger nephew is a silversmith by craft, and only completed his masterwork three months before we left Ered Luin."

Bilbo stared at the bearded dwarven alpha stood over him and struggled to find a sensible response and just managed, "Oh."