Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She sneaked through a window and took the bike she had hidden behind some bushes, pedalling under the moon towards the nearest village. She only stopped when she reached the mailbox, and when she got off the bike she felt the first tendrils of doubt. Perhaps this was a mistake.

Frodo took the letters out of the bag she had carried in her back; their weight was beginning to feel familiar in her hand. Inside of each envelope, the same wedding invitation she had spent the whole day signing and packing with Sam reproduced a message she could now recite by hearth: Mrs Sam Gamgee and Mrs Frodo Baggins invite you to join them in celebration on March the 25^th in Bag’s End, for their wedding and the following party. Come have fun. The addresses in the envelopes were the only variation, as well as the names attached to them.

She caressed the penmanship with her finger. She could only make out part of the lines under the moonlight, but she didn’t need to read them in order to know what they said: she had repeated the words in her mind for months now.

Thorin Longbeard. Nori Dimas. Bofur Builder.

One of them. One of them had to be her father, she was sure, and she would find out which one it was or die trying.

No, this was not the time for doubting. Taking a breath, she raised her hand and let the envelopes fall into the mailbox. There it was; she had done her part. Now, she could only hope that her father would come.

Chapter Text

It was the honk of Pippin’s new car that announced their arrival.

“Here comes the bride!” Pippin sinsonged when Frodo opened the front door and ran towards them. Her cousins were still sitting in the car, a shiny convertible that stood remarkably, surrounded as it was by Bilbo’s tools and tomato plants. Not that Pip and Merry didn’t stood out wherever they went -it was a talent of theirs.

“One to the brides, at least,” Merry pointed out when Frodo reached them, bent over the car’s door and hugged her.

“Here comes one of the brides!”, Pippin amened, honking again. Frodo circled the vehicle and hugged her too, even as she batted her hand away from the wheel.

“Stop that! You’ll scare the animals.” She helped them get out of the car and open the trunk to get out their luggage. “Are you tired? It’s a long trip.”

“No, with the new highway you do it in no time, really.”

“Also, Pippin doesn’t really think things such as speed limit apply to her,” Merry cheerfully added as she took her suitcase and they started going towards the house.

“I was just anxious to be here. It’s Frodo’s wedding!” Pippin didn’t take any suitcase; she took her purse and Frodo’s arm instead. “Are you excited?”

“Yes! Of course I’m excited,” Frodo said, chuckling, and it wasn’t a lie. Sure, the idea of being a married girl was a bit overwhelming, and the life they would lead in the farm caused her a mix of nervousness, sadness and resentment. But that had nothing to do with her wonderful, perfect girlfriend. She wanted to spend her life next to Sam, and she wanted the whole world to know, that was for certain.

“In some ways it seems like it was about time, but in others it’s like you are rushing,” Merru observed. She arched her eyebrows. “I don’t think Sam got you pregnant, did she?” Frodo snorted and shoved her playfully.

“It would be quite a medical miracle.”

“Then what was the hurry? Did you change your mind about your doctorate? Although that would still be no reason to get married, itself -you’d be away from Sam, if she stays here, but I don’t think you need to put a ring on her finger to make sure she waits for you.”

“No, it’s not that, either. I really can’t go to Minas Tirith, girls -I can’t leave Mom alone, with so much to do.”

She had explained this so many times that she was almost immunized to what those words meant -almost. Frodo had made the right choice, of that she was sure, but that knowledge didn’t come without sacrifices.

“She really is transforming this place, isn’t she?” Pippin took a good look at the house as they got to the front door. “I remember the summers when we came to stay here as children; the farm was barely a hut with some sheds for the animals. This is much nicer.”

“It needs a few repairs,” Frodo said, sighing. More than few, to be honest. “But yes, the change is remarkable. Mom works so hard.”

“I like the round door and windows, and the way the corridors look like tunnels,” Merry said when they came into the house. “They make the place quite unique. How did you say she is calling it?”

“Bag’s End. We are working on a web page and expect to be getting visitors soon.” Well, at least they hoped they would come. She led them to her bedroom and opened the door. “Come, girls, leave the bags here. You’ll be staying in my room.”

“What about the others?” Pippin asked, dropping on the bed. “Are they here already?”

“Gimli and Legolas arrived yesterday,” she explained. Merry was taking off her sandals and very clearly planning on occupying the spot next to Pippin’s, so Frodo sat on her chair and faced them. “They are staying in Sam’s house. She’s gone to make some errands with Mom, so they decided to take a walk along the river.”

Pippin snorted.

“More like fuck in the river.”

“Likely,” Frodo admitted. “Sam would murder them with a rusty pruner if she caught them doing anything in her room.”

“Well, you either show those two a firm hand or find them copulating on every surface of the house,” Merry said with a fond smile. “And the rest?”

“Boromir and Aragorn will arrive this evening, and Arwen comes with them.” She sighed happily. “Just a few more hours, and we will all be reunited.

“The whole gang!” Pippin howled, throwing her fist into the air. If she had a tail it would be wagging, Frodo thought with some amusement, but then again so would hers.

“I can’t wait,” she said, and she didn’t just mean to be reunited with the others. There was something she needed to share, or she would burst. Still, she hesitated for a second; Pippin and Merry weren’t the first people that came to your mind when you thought about keeping a secret. They had, however, been her friends since the three of them had been children -only they, among her group of friends, could truly appreciate what she was about to say. “I -uh, I’ve got something to tell you.”

That got their attention; they both sat on the bed and looked curiously at her.

“We have already stablished that you are not pregnant,” Merry pointed out.

“Unless she is from someone else,” Pippin said. Her eyes widened. “Are you?”

“Girls, really!” Frodo rolled her eyes. “It has to do with pregnancies, though. Mine, to be more specific.” She took air. “I found my dad.”

“What?!”

“Where?!”

“I was putting in order some old boxes, and I found… this.” She crouched so she could get the box she had kept hidden under the bed for months, and opened it in order to take the book in her hands. “It’s my mother’s journal… the one she kept back then, I mean.”

“And it mentions your father?” Merry asked with shiny eyes.

“Something of the sort.” She sat back again and passed the pages until she found the date she had committed to memory. She could nearly recite the entry by heart, at this point, but she still cleared her throat to read -she didn’t want to forget anything.  “July, the 17^th. Thorin and I took his motorbike and we went to The Carrock. The views are spectacular from there, but it won’t be what I best remember about this day. How he thrills me! We started talking, and then kissing, and…”

“…?” Pippin bent over in order to look at the page. “Is that all it says? What happened?”

“That’s what they said back then, Pip! What they did when -you know!” Merry had clearly understood the significance of those dots. “So this guy’s your dad?”

“Well, I’m not sure”, she admitted, passing some more pages. “There’s also this entry, a few days later: August 4^th. What I night! I was still feeling down after Thorin left, but Bofur came by and invited me to take a trip down the river in his van. Although I miss Thorin, Bofur is great -so fun, so cheerful and kind. The way that he kisses good night, the way that he holds me tight… I feel like I wanna sing! One thing led to another and…”

“So it could be Thorin or Bofur? Any of them?” Pippin squeaked.

“Yes, I think so. Or… well… there’s also Nori.” She raised the journal and read again. “August 11^th: I still can’t figure out Nori, but I feel like I wouldn’t be able to do that even if I had known him for years. Vana, he isn’t like anyone I’ve met before. He looks like a movie star, but to say the least, he’s a dog-gone… BEAST.” She cleared her throat; she knew she must have reddened, as she always did when she reached this part. “Not dots here, but I think the last line implies heavily that he, too, could be my dad.”

“Ilúvatar, Frodo!” Merry whistled. “After reading that, I feel like I’m wasting my youth.” She frowned. “But if you don’t know which one’s your dad… who did you invite, then?”

“Well…” Frodo closed the journal, stalling. When her cousins kept looking at her expectantly, she finally had to admit: “The three of them.”

*

He should have quitted smoking, really. After all, he had given up all his other drugs, started eating responsibly, and even did yoga regularly. Really, why hadn’t he quitted smoking? He would not be so short of breath if he had.

We aren’t that young anymore, Dwalin’s voice teased him in his mind.

Nori didn’t want to think in Dwalin, though. He was half the reason he was here, sweating while he carried his handbag uphill at the side of the road, instead of having taken a cab or rented a car like a normal human being. He couldn’t risk using his credit card in case he located him, and he hadn’t taken that much money with him.

Thinking in him sort of made him feel guilty; he could have at least left a note, because he was going to worry, especially when he didn’t answer the phone. But he couldn’t risk giving him leads or leaving the phone on, either. That was another way he could be located.

When he had received the invitation, he had thrown it to the bin. He had no interest in attending weddings, and even less Bilbo Baggin’s daughter’s. Only two nights ago, while laying on the bed, had he suddenly wondered: Bilbo’s daughter… with whom?

So he had run away like a thief in the night -he had some experience in that department, didn’t he?-, without telling Dwalin and throwing inside a bag the first clothes he found, much too elegant for him to be walking by a road, and therefore bound to make him sweat like a pig.

He grunted as he made his way uphill. Not for the first time, he lamented the loss of his numerous passports and his contact with people who could take you from one country to another without leaving a trail. Living within the law had many perks -say, for instance, not having to deal with such people for a living-, but his old life made disappearing and traveling definitely easier. As it was, he had had no option but taking a bus after the other until he reached Oldfort, and walking from there to Bilbo’s house, several kilometres away.

Or maybe not.

Dwalin’s presence in his life might have long conditioned him to look at bikers with kind eyes, but in this juncture finding a man in a motorbike by the side of the road felt nearly providential. The man had problems with the vehicle, that was clear, but surely it could be repaired. And wouldn’t he give him a lift if he lent him a hand? Surely he would.

“Need some help?” he asked, as friendly as he could manage. The man -given his bulk, at least, he was likely a man- hadn’t yet taken off his helmet, but when he turned towards him Nori could feel his eyes assessing him. He knew he must look incongruous with his elegant trousers and a bag on his back, but the man didn’t remark on it.

“I would welcome it,” he said with a deep and velvety voice. He got off the vehicle. “Do you know your way around bikes?”

“Yes.” He used to own motorbikes, before he had money enough for fancy cars and then decided to live the kind of life that had led him to buy a bicycle. “Yes, I used to ride one.”

“All right.” The other man nodded. “If you need a lift, I’ll be happy to take you wherever you go, once we get this sorted out.”

“All I ask for,” Nori declared, letting his bag on the floor and crouching next to the bike.

“Great.” The man took off his helmet. “I’m Thorin, by the way. Pleased to meet you.”

All right, he would give it to fate: this had been fun twist. He should have suspected, truly. A man ready to give him a lift, standing on the side of the road? Too good to be true. Of course he had to be someone he should stay away from.

Let’s say, Dwalin’s cousin. One of Dwalin’s cousins, to be precise, but it wasn’t like it mattered that much -he hadn’t been introduced to any of them, nor was he likely to any time soon.

“Nori,” he said, grateful to have a face that didn’t betray his thoughts. He had given up being a thief and a criminal, but lying still came naturally to him. “Let’s see what’s happened to your bike, shall we?”

“It sounded like a spark plug going out,” Thorin grimly said. Nori’s mood wasn’t improved by that, and he couldn’t see much peering in search of the engine.

“It’s too hot still to touch anything anyway,” he said, straightening up again with a sigh. “Do you have any tools?”

“Some, although not as much as I would like to. I… left in a hurry.”

Nori looked at him curiously. Dwalin hadn’t mentioned his cousin’s absence, so he either didn’t know about it or hadn’t found it remarkable. That ruled out emergencies, probably -the whole family would have acted if that were the case-, so he found intriguing that Thorin had needed to leave with such haste.

“Not because of bad news, I hope.”

“No, nothing of the sort.” His smile was a little wary. “As a matter of fact, I’m headed to a wedding.”

“Really?” It couldn’t be, could it? But it had to. This area wasn’t particularly inhabited, after all. “Not in Bag’s End?”

“Aye, in Bag’s End!” Thorin arched his eyebrows. “Are you invited too?”

“Yes, I am.” This was developing into a very, very weird coincidence. “Are you a friend of the family? Well -one of the families.”

“Something of the sort,” Thorin said. His expression appeared now guarded, but that suited Nori fine -he didn’t want to delve into the matter, either. Perhaps it was for the best if they left it there.

The roar of a motor distracted them; Thorin’s eyes widened and Nori turned to follow his gaze, sighing with relief when he saw a camper van coming their way. He waved, trying to attract the driver’s attention, and the van stopped next to them. Lovely; even if they didn’t want to stop for the time it took to put Thorin’s motorbike back in shape they could at least give them a lift, surely.

“Hey there.” A window rolled down to reveal the cheerful face of a man with a rather outdated moustache. “Need a hand?”

“We might,” Thorin admitted. “Or at least some tools.”

“I could provide that,” the man easily said. He smiled. “Then again, I could also pick you up, and the bike too, so we could take a look at it somewhere more comfortable than a sunny road.” He arched his eyebrows expectantly. “I’m going to Bag’s End, myself. Would that work for you?”

Nori and Thorin shared a look.

“We are also going there,” Thorin said.

“Really?” The driver laughed. “Well, all kind of folks must be going there for the wedding, I guess.” He stepped down the vehicle and went towards them. He offered them his hand and they shook it. “I’m Bofur; very pleased to meet you. Now, shall we get the bike into the van?”

So get the bike into the van they did, with their bags, and they settled on the seats as well. Nori eyed the vehicle with interest. The van was clearly designed to make it as comfortable as possible, and it contained not only foods and clothes but books and a bed as well. It was clear Bofur lived there, or at least he spent a considerable amount of time inside it.

Before he could mention it, thought, Thorin provided the answer.

“I think I know who you are,” he said, as soon as the driver got the motor running. “You are Bofur Builder, aren’t you?”

“Guilty!” Bofur chuckled. “Read my books, did you? Or was it one of the films?”

“Both of them.” He laughed. “They make my business trips much more entertaining, to be honest, and they are also quite interesting. It is fascinating to learn about places and cultures so different as those who are in Rhûn’s steppes or Harad cities.”

“Do you make documentaries?” Nori guessed, and Bofur nodded.

“Yeah, that’s what I do.” He looked at Thorin. “What about you? What do you do for a living, while you read or watch my work?”

“Nothing as exciting, I’m afraid,” Thorin replied with a smile. “I’m an architect.”

Nori supressed a snort. He knew for a fact that Thorin’s life had been exciting enough; while he certainly was an architect, he had also been a fireman volunteer, a politician, the winner of several music contests, and he was now leading a campaign to provide social housing for hundreds of Ereboreans. And that, of course, leaving aside the family he had been born in.

Dwalin couldn’t shup up about his cousin, truly -he had been jealous more than once, to be honest.

“And you, Nori?” Thorin wanted to know, turning towards him.

“I am the owner of a pub,” he replied. “A nice place, really; we have a stage and frequently hold concerts and drag shows.” Not for the first time, he felt a lovely warmth settling in his hearth while he talked about this -it was so good not having to lie about what he did nor feeling the impulse to hide what it was.

Bofur whistled.

“Quite nice! I might want to know more about that later; it sounds like a place that I might like to film.” He threw a mocking glance towards Thorin. “Sorry, mate, but I think we can all agree that your job is the most boring.”

Thorin laughed at that.

“I’m afraid I can’t deny it. It definitely is.”

“Well, cheer up,” Bofur said. “This might yet turn into an adventure. You never know when one of those is going to strike!”

Chapter Text

“My shoe!” Thranduil complained as her heel got stuck in a hole of the ground, making her trip. Gandalf laughed while he helped her get her shoe out of it.

“You are so unprepared for the country,” he teased her.

“Oh, but so pretty!” Bilbo’s voice said, and they saw her running down the path towards them. She reached her friends and hugged them tightly. “Thranduil, are these new?” she asked, laughing, while she kneaded her friend’s breasts.

“Yes, they are. I decided I needed something to lift my mood after my last divorce,” she declared.

“Not the only lifting you had, I reckon,” Gandalf chuckled.

“Certainly not.” Thranduil held Bilbo’s face in her hands. “And yet I do not appear half as beautiful and young as this girl! Bilbo, what’s your secret?”

The aforementioned snorted.

“I live a healthy life,” she said. She guessed she didn’t look half bad: she might have gained weight in the last years, but she had never been that thin to begin with, and if there were some new white hairs among her curls, at least her face was still mostly free of lines. She turned to Gandalf, smiling. “You are not half bad yourself, either. Still mysterious and handsome.”

“And looking three thousand years old, and that on a good day,” Gandalf proclaimed, winking. He opened the trunk. “Come on, let’s carry Thranduil’s coffin to the house.”

Thranduil had indeed brought a coffin -by the time they had carried her stuff and Gandalf’s bag to the bedroom her friends were going to share, Bilbo was sweating in the hot midday.

“Here we are,” she said when they reached the room. They all dropped the bags, and Thranduil sat down to get rid of her shoes. “Now, I know you must be interested in taking a shower, but you’ll actually have to go my own room in order to do so. We are having issues with the pumbling.”

“Oh.” Gandalf caressed his beard. “Related only to the shower, or…?”

“Well, the toilet might not flush right away, either,” Bilbo admitted. “But it doesn’t happen often. It would be bad luck if it were you case, truly.”

“Ah.” Thranduil replied. Bilbo rather lamented that her friends had gone so monosyllabic, for it might well mean that they were silently judging the house, so she decided to fill the silence herself.

“Nothing works around here, you know -the house is old, and it shows. It was old already when Beorn lived in here, and while I have tried to improve it, it seems like I’ll never have money enough to really solve all the problems I need to.” She tried to open a window and swore when she realized how hard it was -the handle was terribly rusty. “Damn! Sometimes I…” She paused, trying to properly express her feeling. “I just that I work all nigh, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay… ain’t it sad?” She sighed, finally managing to open the window. At least the sight from the room was pretty, she guessed. “Money, money, money… must be funny in the rich man’s world, mustn’t it? I guess I’ll never know.”

“Oh, honey,” Thranduil said, coming up to her and putting an arm around her shoulders. “Do you need a loan? I could easily lend you some money -the wine cellar is going really well.”

“You could borrow it from me, too,” Gandalf offered. “Everybody seems to want some Narya fireworks in their parties.”

Bilbo had to admit she found the offer tempting. If things kept the way they did, she wasn’t sure she could keep the farm running for much longer; right now she was trying to make the investments it would need in order to properly take some guests, and that was eating up the last of her savings. Still, she wasn’t that desperate yet, and she didn’t want to risk taking her friends’ money. Facing ruin would be bad enough without the remorse of taking them down with her.

“Which is why I asked you to bring some for Frodo’s party,” she cheerfully replied. “And some bottles from Thranduil’s excellent cellar. That’s all I need from you, believe me.”

“Are you sure?” the other woman insisted, frowning. At least, Bilbo thought she was frowning. Thranduil’s skin didn’t allow a lot of expressiveness.

“Yes, I am,” she said, with all the firmness she could find. “Don’t you worry.”

She wasn’t sure they would have dropped the subject -her friends were among the stubbornest people she had met-, but fortunately they were interrupted by the door being opened.

“Bilbo, are you…?” The newcomer saw she had company and smiled pleasantly. “Ah, I see you are busy. Do you need some help?”

“Sam.” Bilbo’s reaction to her soon-to-be daughter-in-law’s presence was always a smile, but her grin was bigger than usual, relieved as she was that the conversation might be abandoned for now. She put her hand on Sam’s shoulder and pushed her forward. “Gandalf, Thranduil, meet the other bride.”

“So this is the girl we will have to track down and kill if she hurts our Frodo badly,” Gandalf said, in a tone serious enough to make Bilbo consider he would actually do it. Maybe he would. Truth be told, if someone hurt Frodo Bilbo might to the deed herself. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

“Likewise, Mr Grey,” she said, shaking the man’s hand. She didn’t look terribly impressed, which probably meant Frodo had explained her how he would act. Smart girl. “And believe me, I would never hurt Frodo.”

“So they all say,” Thranduil pointed out. “Believe me, I would know -I have been married thrice.” She arched a very menacing eyebrow. “Which means I know all the best lawyers one might have if you decide to divorce -you would end up penniless if you ever gave Frodo reason to leave you.”

Bilbo laughed.

“You are scaring the poor girl. Sam is the best daughter-in-law I could ask for.” She put an arm around her shoulders. “She is loyal, cheerful and great in the kitchen. If I were inclined towards women, I would marry her myself.”

“Bilbo!” Sam protested, blushing, and they all laughed.

“Did I mention she is also a bit shy? Don’t you worry, Thranduil and Gandalf might tease you terribly, but they won’t hurt you unprovoked.” She patted her shoulder. “Did you need me?”

“I wanted to ask you if you had seen Frodo. I can’t find her anywhere.”

“No? She got Pippin and Merry installed a while ago, but I don’t know where she went afterwards.”

Sam shook her head.

“Well, there’s still so much to do -she must be busy somewhere. I’ll go looking for her.” She smiled while she took a step towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, despite the shovel talk.”

“Just remember we’ll keep an eye on you,” Gandalf said in a threatening tone, but he too was smiling when she left the room. “She seems like a decent sort.”

“Legolas quite likes her,” Thranduil confirmed. Bilbo smiled when she mentioned her son; she was fond of the boy. Then again, she rather liked all the friends Frodo and Sam had made during their college years. “Although Legolas does have a knack for liking inconvenient people.”

Bilbo rolled her eyes.

“More like people who doesn’t measure up to your expectations. Gimli is a good kid, you know.”

“We’ll see,” Thranduil replied, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I still hope your daughter has invited some handsome boy that will catch my son’s interest and make him forget that boyfriend of his.”

Gandalf snorted.

“Unless you meet him first and seduce him. Perhaps husband number four is on his way.”

Thranduil laughed.

“Why, you never know! But I’m not actively looking for him, to be honest.”

“Now that you mention it, I have heard you might already have a candidate,” Gandalf said. His eyes sparkled, mischievous. “Is it true that you are dating the new major of Esgaroth?”

“Gandalf, how have you heard? I swear to Eru, it’s uncanny how you always know everything!”

Bilbo gasped.

“So is it true? You are dating Bard Fletcher?” She had to admit she was rather impressed; she had seen pictures of the man in gossip magazines and found him very handsome -not that Thranduil didn’t usually date striking men, but this was perhaps a decade younger that her friend.

“Maybe. I don’t know if I’d call it dating -and I don’t know if he’ll become husband number four.” She smirked. “He is a good lover, but he is also a tad too intense for my liking.”

Bilbo laughed.

“I am glad to hear you are still having fun enough for me and Gandalf,” she said. “Or have you acquired a boyfriend since I last saw you, my friend?”

“Certainly not,” the man cheerfully replied. “One might have some adventure here and there, but that’s all.”

“Really, you are the worst possible role models to invite to a wedding,” she said, amused.

“We are, but that’s not new,” Thranduil replied. She pointed at her with a finger. “Now, let’s talk about you, my dear. Is there anything you want to tell us? Have you met some rough, handsome lumberjack in these woods?”

“Me!” Bilbo laughed with mirth and some regret. “No, of course not. When would I have the time for romance?”

“Well, Frodo is all grown up now,” Gandalf pointed out. “Perhaps it’s time you start thinking in love again.”

“Yes! And what’s more, I think you should do it,” Thranduil agreed. She waved a hand. “Oh, not because of romantic rubbish -you know I don’t believe in those. But it’s nice to be taken care of, and it doesn’t look like you have anyone doing so.” She winked at her. “And besides, it’s damn fun having a man in the sheets, in case you don’t remember anymore.”

Bilbo shook her curls. She appreciated the concern, but she hoped they would not insist. They were not the first who tried to convince her she would be better of with a boyfriend, but she knew that was not the case.

“No, no,” she resolutely said. “That stage of my life is over -and believe me, I’m glad that it is. I have no interest in romance nor adventures!”

*

There were three strangers next to the kitchen door.

Of course, that wasn’t remarkable in itself; the farm was receiving a flood of providers for the wedding, and most of them ended up in the kitchen one way or the other. Still, Frodo knew the people who worked for most of the business in the area, and those three weren’t among them. Neither did they seem to be bringing her anything, for all that they had descended from a camper van; they carried suitcases instead of boxes.

Then she realized what three strangers with suitcase might be doing at her wedding and had to suppress a scream. With slightly trembling knees, she opened the kitchen’s door and looked at them intently.

“Hi,” she gasped, between hope and apprehension. “Might I help you?”

“Sure!” the man with a moustache said, smiling cheerfully. “I’m Bofur Builder.”

Bofur Builder. He was one of them.

Before she had fully processed it, another man talked.

“My name’s Nori Dimas,” he announced, while trying to wipe some sweat with a kerchief. He looked at her intently, which made Frodo a bit nervous; she turned towards the last man to avoid his gaze.

“Thorin Longbeard,” he declared.

The three of them. The three of them were there.

There was no magic moment, no tug in her heart towards any of them. She had always thought she would recognize his father when she met him, but of course that wasn’t the case -she was just faced with three perfect strangers. Her gazed bore into them, trying to perceive shared features, but that didn’t particularly help, either. Try as she might, she shared some traits with them all: her eyes were blue, like Thorin’s (but then, so were her grandfather Bungo’s); her slight form was similar to Nori’s, and she could even see elements of her smile in Bofur’s lips. Damn it. Who was her father?

“You are expecting us,” Thorin said. It wasn’t a question, but his hesitant tone made it one.

“Yes! Yes, of course.” Frodo shook herself out of her stupor. Alright. Meeting them first, loosing her head later. “Be welcomed. I’m Frodo.”

“Bilbo’s daughter?” Bofur asked, looking her up and down. “Mahal, I still can’t believe Bilbo has a daughter old enough to marry. She must have been you age when I met her.”

“Likewise,” Thorin said. His deep voice sounded both amused and nostalgic, and Frodo remembered the passion her mother’s diary showed in regard to this man -whatever their relationship had been, it had been intense.

“Is there any chance we can go to our room before we meet you mother?” Nori wanted to know. He seemed more reserved than the others, Frodo observed.

“Sure,” she said, thinking furiously. Right, a room. She hadn’t really thought the three of them would show up -and now, their presence posed a logistical problem. Where was she going to put three men, not to mention hiding them from her mother?

The old goat’s shed, she decided. Yes, that was the only place.

“Come with me,” she instructed, and they obediently followed her through the maze of the farm’s buildings until they reached their destination. There, she closed the door and made them climb the stairs, helping them with the luggage until the reached the loft. Yes, she could hide them here. The roof was low and a faint smell of goat still permeated the air, but there were three air and foam mattresses they could occupy for a couple of nights, and no one would think to come here.

“You mean us to stay here?” Nori asked, with an arched eyebrow. He was smartly dressed, Frodo noticed; she hoped he wouldn’t complain much about the lodgings, if he was used to something better.

“I think we’ll be quite comfortable,” Bofur judged, carelessly dropping his bag in one of the foam mattresses, and then laying on it. As for Thorin, his concerns were other.

“Can we see Bilbo now?”

“Ah.” Of course, that was to be expected. If was her that they knew, after all. “Well, as a matter of fact, my mother doesn’t know you are coming. I sent the letters.” They didn’t expect that, and they didn’t like it either -it was plain in their faces that the news disturbed them. “But she’ll be so happy to see you!” she quickly added. “Really, you’ll see -she is always talking about you guys and the good old days. I thought it would be a nice surprise for her, if the three of you attended my wedding.”

“Right.” Thorin cleared his throat. He was not reassured by her explanation, that much was clear. “Look, Frodo -if your mother didn’t invite us, then I can’t be here. She and I didn’t separate in the best terms. The last time we were together, she said she didn’t want to see me again.”

“But that was years ago! She’ll want to see you now, I am sure. And it would mean a lot to me.”

“Why?” Nori’s gaze was sharp as a razor. “Why do you care?”

Uh, time to come up with an excuse.

“My mom’s been so god to me, all those years,” she explained. That wasn’t a lie, not at all. “I would like to give her a surprise -a nice one.”

“And you think that having us her would be that?” Thorin didn’t sound convinced.

“Of course! You came to see her when you received the invitation, right? Even if twenty-three years had passed, you still cared enough to come. She’ll be just as eager to be reunited with you, you’ll see.”

Thorin laughed at that.

“Mahal, you are just like you mother,” he declared. He somehow seemed to give in when he said that, taking a seat next to the place Bofur was sprawled in. “I’m glad my boys haven’t met you -they wouldn’t recover.”

His boys. She felt butterflies in her stomach at that. His boys! Did she have brothers, perhaps?

“Do you have sons?

Thorin shook his head.

“No, two nephews, but I have raised them up as mine.” Well, she could work with that, as well. The only cousins she had met were Pippin and Merry; she could take more. “I would like to bring them here one day, to be honest. I was very happy in this place.”

“So was I,” Bofur said with a dreamy smile. Even Nori’s reserve seemed to melt a bit in the general wave of nostalgia.

“Me too,” he admitted in a soft voice.

“You’ll be again,” Frodo promised. “You only have to stay here and not let my mother know that I invited you.” They all looked rather dubious again. “Promise me you won’t tell anybody I was the one that invited you!” she insisted.

They hesitated for a moment, still clearly doubtful about her request. For a second she feared the would not agree, that they were going straight to Bilbo and tell her the truth -but then Bofur smiled and caved.

“All right, you’ve got it,” he agreed with a chucked.

Thorin nodded too, albeit a bit more reluctantly.

“Aye, I promise.”

“I might regret this,” Nori said with a sigh. “But yes, fine. I won’t tell either.”

“Great!” Frodo could hear her mother’s voice quietly singing in the distance -not too close, but close enough to make her tense. Time to run away, just in case. “Alright then. I’ll see you later!” she promised, and then jumped through the window.

*

She thought she saw Frodo running away from the goat’s shed, but that was weird -what was her daughter doing there?

Curious, she went to the old building and opened the door. Someone had been there, that much was clear; the junk that laid on the floor had been moved to clear a path, and the hatch that gave access to the next floor was closed. She could also hear some voices; men’s voices, but she didn’t recognize them, even if she was nearly sure she had heard them before. Bilbo frowned, climbing up the stairs, and discreetly opened the hatch. Who in Mando’s name was there?

Thorin was the first one she saw, and that perhaps was unavoidable -she had always been drawn towards him, like a sunflower following the daylight. He was quite changed, of course; time had carved lines around his eyes and mouth, and his now short hair showed some streaks of white that had been absent from the long mane of his youth. Gone were the black polish of his nails, the metal bands’ t-shirt and the studded jeans and leather bracelets, although he had kept the biker boots. They went well with his blue jeans and the white t-shirt he was wearing, Bilbo decided -but then, what hadn’t looked good on him? He had always been a very handsome man.

Bofur was perhaps easier to recognize; he didn’t wear his colourful hippy clothes anymore -the ones he had now made him look like an adventurer of some kind- and he had cut his hair, but he had kept the moustache and the battered ushanka. Even without them, though, Bilbo would have been able to tell it was him -who else had Númenor’s map and Harad’s snake tattooed on each knee?

And, because she was starting to find a pattern here, she wasn’t particularly bewildered when she spotted the third man. Nori was the most changed, without the glittery make up and brilliant sequins; he even looked shorter without the platform high heels, and his hair was shorter as well. But that beautiful auburn was unmistakable, and the purple suit he now wore looked as elegant on him as the glam fashion had, all those years ago.

Bilbo closed the hatch, breathing hard and with her heart beating like a drum. What were those three doing there? How could it be?

Maybe she was hallucinating. Gandalf had insisted that they had a smoke, earlier, and you could never trust that man’s weed.

“Just one look,” she muttered under her breath. “One more look and I forget everything.”

She opened the hatch, and there they were -three ghosts of the past facing her, taunting her. Those three men… goodness! Why those three men? Why, among all those she had met, she was forced to be reunited with the three that had turned her life upside down like no other?

Her hands were trembling, her mouth dry. She wanted them gone, she wanted her pulse back to normal and her life devoid of unsettling surprises such as this. And yet…

“Mamma mia,” she whispered when excitement ran through her body and a long-forgotten part of her soul seemed to wildly come back to life. “Here I go again.”

That was, of course, when she managed to lose her balance and fell with a squeak.

*

“Did you hear that?” Thorin asked; Nori was already opening the hatch and kneeling on the floor to look down through it.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath. “So much for discretion, really.”

“What are you doing here?” Bilbo’s voice demanded, and Thorin’s heart started doing very, very funny things. And he had thought he could be normal about this.

“Hi, Bilbo,” Nori said. He went down with a resigned air. “You look well.”

“Indeed you do!” Bofur jumped next, cheerful as ever. “Not a year older.”

“I don’t remember you as a liar, Bofur Builder,” she said with a snort. Thorin gulped and dragged himself to the hatch. Alright, then. Time to go down and meet his fate.

Bilbo looked indeed well; while it wasn’t true that she didn’t look a year older, he could see some truth in Bofur’s affirmation. Bilbo had some grey hairs among her curls, and her figure was slightly changed, but her eyes and her smile were still those of a very young girl, no matter the new lines that now surrounded them. He was willing to bet her heart was too.

“Hello,” he said, awkward. Bilbo nodded, but she didn’t otherwise answer to him. She managed to get up from her hay ball, and then looked intently at them.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked.

Oh, right. They weren’t supposed to tell the truth.

“I’m writing a travel piece,” Bofur answered with the slightest hesitation. Oh, that was a good answer, wasn’t it? Pity that he didn’t have a job that allowed for such a deception.

“A business trip,” Nori easily lied. The excuse wasn’t as good as the other, perhaps, but the delivery was flawless; he nearly believed it.

Now that it was his turn, Thorin panicked.

“I just dropped to say hi,” he finally said. Like the utter idiot he was when it came to these things.

Bilbo so wasn’t buying it.

“What is this?” she insisted in a demanding tone. Fortunately, Bofur didn’t seem impressed by the question.

“Well, it would seem like what one could call a coincidence,” he said with a perfectly innocent face. “What else could it be?”

“Uh-hu.” She still looked extremely suspicious. “So you don’t know each other?”

“No, not at all. We just met on the way here, a few hours ago,” Thorin explained. “My bike broke down and Nori was hitch-hiking. Bofur was kind enough to pick us up and we came here to seek help.”

“Right.” Her eyes narrowed. “And who said you could stay in my goat shed?”

“Oh, some girl -one of your employees, I would say,” Nori smoothly replied. “Not that we catched everything she said; she seemed to be speaking in a dialect of Goblintongue.”

“Well, I can’t have you here,” Bilbo heatedly declared. “I am full, and I have a wedding to plan and manage, and… well…”

“Bilbo, you don’t have to worry about us,” Thorin said in earnest. Mahal, causing her problems or making her angry was the last thing he wanted. “You will barely notice we are here.”

“Oh, because you were all so good remaining unnoticed,” she mumbled, going towards the door. “Look, I… I really don’t have the time for this. I… goodbye.”

And with that, she left them there.

*

“Where’s Frodo?” Bilbo asked as soon as she found her friends.

“I think she went to take care of the chickens, or something like that,” Gandalf said. He and Thranduil paused in the middle of their drinking to stare at her. By the way they looked at her, she looked as bad as she was feeling, and that could only be described as awful.

“What’s going on?” Thranduil wanted to know.

“I…” Bilbo began, and then paused. To her horror, she found she was about to start crying, and decided to run towards the bathroom. If she was about to act as a teenage girl, she would at leas do it in private dignity.

“Bilbo?” Gandalf asked, worried; he and Thranduil followed her, by the sound of it, but she wasn’t really sure that she liked that, or even cared. All of sudden all she wanted to do was closing the door, balling up in the bathroom and crying for ages.

“Bilbo!” Thranduil knocked on the door. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

“Nothing!”

“Come on, Bilbo, tell me the truth!” Gandalf demanded. “You know I am a shoulder you can cry on.”

“We both are!” Thranduil said, which made Bilbo utter a very sad sound, part snort and part sob. Thranduil was a great friend, but her skills as a shoulder to cry on left a bit to be desired. Truth be told, Gandalf was better, but not excellent either; it was only that you couldn’t keep a secret from him no matter how hard you tried.

“I’m fine!” she said, although she didn’t know why. She was very obviously not fine.

“Bilbo, open that door,” Thranduil demanded, in what her friend privately called the Queen’s tone. Like so many times before, she found herself obeying before she had consciously decided upon it, and the other two invaded her bathroom and her space like the nosy, concerned friends they were. “Well? What happened?”

“It’s her dad,” she admitted, hiccupping a little. “Frodo’s dad.”

“What about him?”

Bilbo took a deep breath. Oh, right. She had some explanations to do.

“Well… do you remember I told you he was Thorin, the architect that had promised his dying mother he would marry a girl he was engaged to?”

“Of course,” Gandalf said, frowning.

“The truth is… I’m not sure it was him,” she said. She could feel herself reddening, which was annoying -she had not done anything to be ashamed of. “Because there was… well, you know… two other guys around back them, and any of them could also be her dad.”

For a moment her friends just looked at her. Then, Thranduil’s face broke in a sudden grin.

“Bilbo Baggins, aren’t you an interesting girl,” she said with excessive mirth, in Bilbo’s opinion.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Gandalf demanded. He looked as worried as annoyed -probably because he hadn’t known about this for 23 years.

“Well, I didn’t think I would have to explain it! Because… well, I couldn’t imagine I would see any of them ever again, much less have all of them in my blasted goat’s shed! The day before my daughter’s wedding!” she added, in a belated but much heartfelt moment of indignation against fate. Really, how was any of this fair?

“But why are they here?” Gandalf’s frown deepened. “Do they know about Frodo?”

“No, certainly not! I never told a soul!”

“You have kept it to yourself all these years?” Thranduil shook her head. “Poor Bilbo.”

“Well, that doesn’t matter now,” she said, taking a handkerchief and trying to make her face look presentable. “The only thing that matter is that Frodo never, never must know about this.”

“Why not? She might be cool about this. Kids these days take these things fine, you know -Legolas doesn’t even blink when I bring someone home.”

“I am glad for him, but Frodo would not be cool, not at all. Knowing her father… for her, that is…” She shook her head, unable to explain how much of a big deal this was for her daughter. She knew Frodo loved her dearly, had never doubted it, but she had sometimes felt very resentful that she didn’t seem to be enough for her daughter. Who cared who her father was? Hadn’t her mother been there for here, every day since she was born? What would she need her other parent for? “She must not know they are here, even less the day before of her wedding. Yavanna, I cannot believe it! The three of them here, at the same time, in a time such as this!” She shook her head again and went to the sink to clean her face; she felt like it was either feeling the water on her face or crying again. “And the worse thing is this is my fault. I have brought this on myself being a stupid, reckless little slut!”

To her surprise, Gandalf laughed at that.

“Bilbo Baggins, you sound just like your cousin Lobelia!” he said, clearly amused. Bilbo’s mouth fell open in indignation.

“I do not!”

“But you do!” Gandalf insisted. All right, maybe she did. Which must mean she was wrong, because Lobelia hadn’t said anything but rubbish in her whole life. He put an arm around her shoulders. “Forget that nonsense, girl -you had your fun, as it was your right, and nobody should blame you for that. Less than anyone your daughter, or yourself.”

“Well, yes, but…”

“But nothing,” Thranduil interrupted her. “You lived your life, as we all do. That life gave you a daughter that you have spent twenty years taking care of and making happy, and that’s all that matters. Anything else we can fix, whatever it is.”

And maybe they could, Bilbo thought, comforted. With her friends next to her, maybe they could.

Chapter Text

“Where are you going?” Frodo yelled.

She could hear Pippin and Merry running behind her, obviously anxious to meet the infamous dads, and she prayed they didn’t do anything too blatant. The fact they had managed not to tell any of their friends was remarkable enough.

In any case, she had more immediate worries. The three men seemed to be climbing in the camper van they had come in, and that seemed suspicious in the extreme. “You are not leaving, are you? You promised you’d stay for my wedding!”

“Well, your mother freaked out when she saw us,” Bofur explained when she reached them. Damn, Mom had seen them.

“She is not thinking straight,” she quickly explained. “She is so stressed about the wedding, you see. But she’ll be happy tomorrow!”

“Will she?” Thorin looked extremely dubious. She wondered how her mother had acted.

“Of course.” Frodo looked at them pleadingly. “You’ll stay, won’t you?”

The men crossed a look.

“Well, I suppose we will,” Bofur said. “At least for the night. Let’s see what happens tomorrow, right?”

“We could do that,” Thorin agreed. “And we weren’t going to run away, in any case. We were just going to a day trip to the Carrock.”

“To the Carrock?” Her heart beat faster at that. He had gone there with her mother, hadn’t he? It might be… it might be where she had been conceived, if he was her dad.

“Do you want to come?” Nori suddenly asked. He had remained silent until now, a little apart, even, but know he was looking at her intently. “We could get to know you a little better.”

“Good idea!” Bofur declared. “Come, girl.”

“Well…” she hesitated for a moment. She wanted to, of course -one of then had to be her father!- but she had so much to do. “I’m not supposed to. The wedding…”

“Oh, Frodo, go,” Merry said; she turned and saw her cousins looking at her and nodding. “We’ll take care of everything.”

“Will you?” The promise wasn’t exactly reassuring; Pippin and Merry had a certain habit of flirting with disaster. Still, her other friends were around, and they would be able to rein them in. Or at least Aragorn would be. “Well, I guess… it won’t take that much, after all.”

“Of course not,” Thorin said. He opened the door of the camper for her. “Come on, let’s go.”

*

“So, how did you meet my mother?” Frodo asked with bright eyes when they got down the camper.

Nori threw her a sidelong glance. She had to know, didn’t she? Or at least she must suspect he was her dad. Why would she invite him, if she didn’t?

But then again, why invite the others? And she hadn’t paid him more attention than she had to Thorin and Bofur; she surely would have, if she knew or suspected she was his daughter.

Now she was looking at him, though, and asking about his relationship with her mother.

“We met in Rivendell,” he explained, and head his own voice fill with a nostalgia he hadn’t know he felt. “Some time later I went towards the east, so I decided to visit her; she had told me she would be here. But originally, we met in Rivendell. Back then, that city was… something else.”

“It must have been! I studied in there, myself, and they always talked about the political movements and the artistic scene of two decades ago.” She looked at him curiously. “Did you go to uni there, as well?”

Nori snorted.

“No, no. I wasn’t a student. I… well, I couldn’t really tell you what I was. Bartender, model, tailor; anything that paid the rent, honestly.” A petty thief, con artist and incipient drug dealer, too. “I didn’t have the money for studying, but I didn’t see the point either, back then. Rivendell was so full of life, of parties, of demonstrations, of new lifestyles and dreams. The world was turning upside down, back then.”

“That’s what my mother says, too.” Her eyes were huge, fascinated by the fairy-tale of a world that had ended when she was still a child. She remined him of Ori, and that warmed his heart. “How did you two meet?”

“At a party. She was quite the dancing queen, your mom,” he said, and she laughed. He wondered how much of that Bilbo remained, how much Frodo had been able to see for herself. “No, no, I mean it. At the beginning she seemed quite shy, but then the music started playing, and… I don’t know how to describe it, but she brightened the room with her joy.” So many years had passed, so many women and parties he had known, and yet Bilbo Baggins dancing at that Rivendell’s disco had remained in his mind, provided warmth and comfort in bad days, even. She had seemed so… incredibly cheerful. “I remember thinking I was so happy we had met. It was the age of no regret, you know.”

“Oh, yes.” Bofur laughed softly. His eyes also looked lost in the past. “Those crazy eyes, that was the time of the flower-power, and I fully embraced it. Bilbo and I met in a town nearby here, while I was giving a speech about police abuse in Goblintown. She jumped in my van and followed me there, to a demonstration that took place the next day.”

“Really? My mom?”

“The one and only.” Bofur’s smile as extremely fond. “She has such a good heart.”

“She does,” Frodo agreed, her voice full of affection. Nori felt that familiar pang of envy for those who had grown up with caring mothers. He was past blaming his own for his own weaknesses, but he knew some of his problems could we be traced there, to those years in which he should have had the unyielding love of a parent and had instead an indifferent drunk who didn’t care for her children and an overwhelmed older brother who tried to keep them fed and clothed when she wouldn’t do it.

“What about you, Thorin?” Bofur wanted to know as he turned towards the other man. Nori was curious, himself, and as for Frodo, her eyes shone at the question. “How did you meet Bilbo?”

“In Elvenking Halls,” he replied. “I don’t particularly like elvish art, myself, but I was doing a motorbike trip and my sister wanted some pictures of the old palace, so I went there.” He smiled, clearly amused by some private thought. “Going against Dís wishes always ends up badly, so I decided to obey her orders and went to take the pictures. Which was very fortunate, since it allowed me to meet Bilbo.”

Frodo was frowning slightly.

“But I thought you had brought her here, to the Carrock.”

“She told you that?” For some reason, Thorin seemed surprised. “Well, while we were in Elvelking Halls she told me she was supposed to come here and stay with a woman called Beorn. Back then I was living for the day, worries far away, so I just brought her to the farm on my bike. We came to see the Carrock some days later, before I left.”

Well, well, well, didn’t he sound longing. That man had been in love of Bilbo Baggins, or maybe he still was. That was more than a little interesting; Thorin was, according to his cousin, the most introvert person in the world, and his love interests could be counted with the fingers of a hand.

“Why didn’t you stay?” Frodo asked.

“It is complicated. I had made a promise to my dying mother, so I thought it best if I went.” Thorin didn’t seem to be willing to elaborate. Frodo looked at him, and for a moment she looked like she was about to ask, but then she lowered her head and dropped the matter.

“Auntie Beorn used to bring me here when I was a child,” she said instead. “She was very good to me; like a grandmother, in a way. She had lost her own family, so she was happy to have us with her, I think.” Frodo pointed up to the eyot. “She loved to go up the Carrock and look far away, to the Misty Mountains, or to the east, towards Mirkwood. Did you know in clear days you can even see Erebor?”

“Aye,” Thorin said, and he sounded so sad Nori nearly felt bad for him. Not so bad that he didn’t want to know all about it, of course. He would have to pester Dwalin in order to get information, provided that Dwalin didn’t dump his ass the moment he saw him again. “Aye, I know.”

*

Of course he knew. Thorin had thought more than once that his whole adult life could have been very different if he didn’t -it the day he came here with Bilbo had been a misty one, for instance, or if there had been a terrible storm, or if they had not even gone there. It had been on the top of that eyot, while happy and laughing and holding Bilbo in his arms, that he had looked at Erebor and felt his insides freeze. Really, why had he ever taken his motorbike for that damned excursion?

But that was a useless thought, to be honest. If the sight of his homeland hadn’t been what had reminded him of his duties to his family, then something else would. He was always bound to return there and try to reclaim what he had been brought up to place above anything else, so it was only a matter of time.

What a terrible, utter fool he had been back then.

“The view is truly spectacular,” Bofur said when they reached the top, putting on some sunglasses. Thorin imagined he simply needed them to see -at their age, it was only normal-, but they looked good on him. Very good, actually. He must have been a very handsome man in his youth. “Funny that I had never stopped to climb here; some pretty pictures could be taken. How’s the wildlife, do you know? And who has lived in this land during the past centuries?”

Aye, he must have been a very handsome man in his youth -when he had met Bilbo. Because it had to be him, didn’t it? He had to be the one who had taken her in his van and left Thorin alone and heartbroken, feeling like the most stupid man in the planet. Of course, that was exactly how he had deserved to feel, but the knowledge didn’t exactly help.

He somehow found consoling that this man hadn’t ended up being Bilbo’s great love for the rest of her life, although he realized he didn’t have any right to feel that way. It was only that the image of that unknown man who had taken Bilbo away from him the moment the had imagined he could get her forever had haunted him for twenty-three years. If he had come back now to find her happily married to him he wasn’t sure what he would have made -turn back on his heels and return to Erebor, probably, even if it meant leaving his motorbike in Bilbo’s farm until it was repaired and having it sent later.

“No, I have never been in Lindon,” Nori was saying. Thorin forced himself to concentrate in what they were saying. The conversation seemed to have changed quite a bit while he was lost in thought, and he didn’t have the slightest idea how they had got there. “I have lived in different places, but never in the west.”

“Really? Where have you been?” Frodo asked with bright eyes.

“Oh… I was in the Iron Hill for a while, and in then in the Orocarni, too. I lived for a couple of years in Barad-dur, and then in Umbar and Dol Amroth too.”

“Not bad at all!” Bofur declared. “What did you work in, that allowed you to move so much?”

“Import and export, for the most,” Nori said. “But it was a rather boring job, no matter how interesting the places I lived in. I’m quite satisfied to have settled in my new one.” He turned towards him. “Have you travelled a lot, Thorin?”

“I have travelled, but not lived abroad, except for a studies’ stay in Belegost,” he admitted. “Besides, most of my trips were related to work.”

“Do architects need to travel that much?”

There was something in his tone… Thorin threw him a sidelong glance, but Nori’s face didn’t show anything but polite interest. He must have imagined the slight tease he had heard in his words, or perhaps he was pure and simply paranoid. It was true that most of his trips had not been taken as an architect, but as part of his attempts to be recognized again as king, but there was simply no way Nori knew that, unless he had recognized him from the magazines that had interviewed him in his youth. Even in that case the chances were small; he had never been a fan of selling his intimacy in order to obtain notoriety, and during the last ten years if someone had published his photo it was only thanks to the work of paparazzis.

“Sometimes, when we need to close a deal,” he replied. “And to work in different projects. But it’s never particularly exciting, of course.”

“Well, it must still be nice to be able to know different places,” Frodo kindly said. Still, her interest laid somewhere else; she turned towards Nori in order to ask: “So… do you speak the languages of all the places you have lived in?”

“Goodness, no. Only some of them.” He arched an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I love them! Languages and literature, I mean. That’s what I studied while I was in Rivendell.” She looked absolutely lovely in her enthusiasm, the way his nephews could sometimes be when they were not busy being forces of nature. Ah, to be young. “I am particularly interested in Gondor’s medieval literature. It’s absolutely fascinating.”

“The stories of King Telcontar and the such?” Thorin asked. Frodo turned towards him and he nearly felt rewarded for having spoken when she smiled at him. “I remember studying those when I was young.”

“Really? They are not usually part of the curriculum,” she said, seeming surprised. Well, maybe they were not -he had learnt all sort of things that a King was supposed to know, even if nobody could tell him exactly why.

“Well, I didn’t read it all,” he amended. “Only the way they were used to reinforce Gondor’s nationalism.”

“Oh, a lot could be said about that,” Bofur pointed out, laughing. “You should hear Mordorian’s opinion about those stories.”

“I know them! Although not completely, of course. If only I spoke a better Orcish and was able to read their books on the matter…” She shook her head. “In any case, while the original texts of Telcontar’s legend are breath-taking, what I really find fascinating are all those little details that have been left out of the studies so far -the treatment of Dunlendings, for instance, the way they barely speak about the feminine world, the obvious homoeroticism of some of the characters. They have so many layers that it would be interesting to analyse.”

“You remind me of my little brother,” Nori said with a smile. “He is never happier than when reading a book, except perhaps while talking about it.”

“He sounds like he could become a friend, yes,” Frodo said, laughing. “We might have one thing or two in common.”

“Do you mean to keep on investigating about those matters know, then?” Thorin asked, interested. “They seem like an interesting field for a doctorate.”

He found with surprise that Frodo’s face fell at that.

“No… I thought… but it doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Perhaps in the future. Right now I am needed here.” Thorin was about to ask what she meant, but then she changed the subject again. “You said you have nephew, didn’t you? Are they the sons of your fearsome sister Dís? And when do you plan to bring them here?”

*

“Frodo!”

At first she thought she might have imagined it -surely she couldn’t have heard anything over the roar of the engine-, but the she turned her head and saw her there, next to the road.

“Sam!” She tapped Bofur’s shoulder. “Could you stop the car, please? That’s my girlfriend.”

“Ooooh, the soon-to-be-bride,” the man said, the smile huge on his face. He stopped the van. “Go, girl. Let it not be said I stood in the way of love.”

By then, Sam had reached the side of the vehicle with those short but purposeful steps of hers. Frodo opened the door and got out, hugging her girlfriend.

“Hello, love.”

“Where have you been?” Sam asked, clearly concerned. “Are you alright? People has been arriving all afternoon and no one had seen you; I was beginning to worry.”

Right. Right, the wedding! Oh, damn, she had simply disappeared and left her poor girlfriend to take care of everything, and she had done so without so much as a word of warning.

“I’m sorry. I went to The Carrock,” she explained, feeling a stab of guilt. “Didn’t Pippin and Merry tell you?”

“Not exactly; they said you were with some of the gest. But that was hours ago! We thought you would be back by now.” She frowned. “And you went… to The Carrock?”

“Yes, I… needed to be there.” She cleared her throat. “I am sorry, Sam. Is everything alright?”

“It is, now that you are here,” she said, clearly relieved. Frodo took her hand affectionately and kissed it. She truly had the loveliest girlfriend. “As for the wedding, everything’s taken care of, don’t you worry.”

“You are the most efficient person I know,” Frodo praised with a smile and not the slightest hint of flattery. Sam could take care of anything.

“I don’t know about that. I forgot some stuff at home this morning and had to go get it.” Sam sighed, adjusting her grip on the box she was carrying. She threw a glance to the van. “Are you headed towards the farm? Because I would be thankful if I could drop this in there.”

“You can jump in too, silly.” She opened the door again. “Bofur, you don’t mind if we take Sam with us, do you?”

“Of course not! Get inside,” he said, smiling at them through the rearview. Thorin moved in order to let Frodo and Sam get in the car, and the three men nodded in greeting as the second girl climbed inside and introduced herself, fighting to accommodate the box she was carrying.

“Well, thank you kindly, sir. I thought we were going to be late.”

“Late for what?” Frodo asked, frowning. Sam blinked while she fastened her seatbelt.

“The reunion with the gang, of course,” she said as Bofur got the motor running. “Don’t you remember, honey? We agreed we would take a walk along the river together, now that everybody is here.”

“Right, of course!” Really, how could she have forgotten that? Her head wasn’t working as it should, with the whole affair of meeting her parents. “They have all arrived, then?”

“Yes, they have. They’ll be waiting for us.”

“Taking a walk along the river with friends looks like a particularly sweet and innocent version of a bacherolette party, you know” Nori pointed out, turning on his co-driver sit to look at her with a teasing smirk. “Really, if you want something a little wilder after the wedding, you will be well received at my pub.”

She could feel Sam stiffening a little -after all, she didn’t know the man at all-, but Frodo laughed at the offer.

“I’ll keep it mind, but we will have a real party later, tonight, and in any case we are not the sort to go looking for wild adventures.” She took Sam’s hand on her own and caressed her knuckles, letting her know through the touch that everything was alright. “We have known each other forever and have been going out for years; we could as well already be married. I’m afraid the hunger for adventure died with my mom.”

Somehow, that made Thorin frown.

“But surely you are too young to be so settled,” he pointed out. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-three. Both of us are.”

“So you just finished your studies, didn’t you? What are you going to do now? You said you were needed here, but you never elaborated on that.”

She hadn’t, had she? Now she sort of wished she had. She had not wanted to talk about that matter then, but she wanted it even less with Sam by her side. Her girlfriend was tensing again, and Frodo supressed a sigh; unfortunately, she could not make her girlfriend’s apprehension over this matter disappear as easily as she had at Nori’s teasing remark.

“We are staying here, in the farm,” Frodo said in the firmest tone she could find. “My mother needs help in order to transform it into a country house. We have already had some guests over the years, but we would like to increase their numbers. Sam thinks this is a good time for it, as people seem to like places like us for holidays.”

“Yes,” Sam confirmed, nodding. For all that their future was a sore subject among them, and shy as she usually was when it came to speaking to strangers, Frodo knew there were three topics that would get her talking for ages: the farm, social justice and Frodo herself. “Bilbo’s decoration fits in the cottagecore style that seems to be so trendy nowadays, and I have some plans to transform the fields, so they become more profitable. That way we could have more time to dedicate to guests.”

“Sam’s an agricultural engineer, and quite the handywoman,” Frodo proudly proclaimed. The other girl blushed prettily.

“It will be your website that will draw the clients towards the farm, so I might as well try and do my part.”

“I will design the website, but they wouldn’t come without the pretty pictures of the rooms you are so busy redecorating,” she replied with a smile.

“Oh, half of those are you mom’s… I can’t take credit for that,” Sam protested, but Frodo laughed at that.

“My dear, my mother has had this farm for years and it has never looked half as well as it does since you started working here.”

They could go on and on like this for hours, and truth be told, they had more than once. Right now, though, they were interrupted; Bofur’s voice asked before Sam had a chance to reply:

“Are those your friends, girls?”

“They are!” Frodo confirmed, so the driver stopped the van. Well, some of them, at least; Gimli and Aragorn were there, waving at them when they saw the girls opening the door.

“Finally! Where were you?” Aragorn asked with a relieved sigh. He hugged Frodo while Sam retrieved the box from the car. “We didn’t know where else to look for you!”

“I know, I know! I’m sorry!” She felt guilty again. She truly had left her friends and girlfriend abandoned because of something she wasn’t even telling them. “I’ll be all yours from now on, I promise.” She turned towards the men in the camper, and found out Thorin was bent over, facing the floor. “Thorin? Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes. I just dropped… a lighter,” he said.

“All right,” she said, a bit puzzled. The search seemed to be taking him ages. “Well, I’ll see you all around. You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you? Promise me you will!”

“Sure, kid!” Bofur declared.

“I think so,” Nori said, a bit hesitantly.

“You’ve got it,” Thorin promised, still talking to his knees. Uh. Weird.

“All right, then.” She closed the door and turned to her friends. Behind her, the van’s engine started again, and she felt slightly anxious, like she might never see those men again. She had their promise that they would go to the wedding, but the idea that this might be the only time she spent in her father’s company, whoever he was, kept nagging at her from the back of her mind. “Let’s go, guys. Where are the others?”

“Legolas was rhapsodizing about a tree he found, so Arwen wanted to see it for herself,” Aragorn say with a smile. “Pippin and Merry, on the other hand, absolutely had to show Boromir they bridesmaid’s dresses, so they took him to your room.”

“I’ll go get them,” Sam offered. “I have to let the box there, anyway.”

“I’ll go with you,” Frodo said. The least she could do was helping her girlfriend carry the box. “Will you go looking for Legolas and Arwen? We can reconvene here.”

“Sure. What about you, Gimli?” Aragorn frowned when he didn’t get an answer. “Gimli?”

“What? Ah!” Frodo turned to look at the redhead, curious. He seemed to be looking at the retreating van. “Aye, I’ll go with you to snatch our sweethearts from the clutches of that entrancing tree, but you might want to get ahead. I need to make a call.”

“A call? To whom?” Frodo asked, puzzled.

“Is everything alright?” Sam wanted to know, clearly concerned.

“A call to my cousins, and I’ll know if it is when I call them, I think.” He took the phone out of his pocket. “But do not worry, I am most likely mistaken anyway. Go on, guys. We’ll reunite in a moment.”

“All right,” Frodo said, still disconcerted. She crossed a look with Aragorn, who only shrugged and went away, presumably to get Arwen and Legolas.

“Well, let’s go, then,” Sam said, so her girlfriend took a handle of the box and started going with her towards the house. “I must confess I’ll be glad when this is over.”

“What, are you tired of me already?” she teased. Her girlfriend laughed.

“Never,” she promised in such a tender tone that Frodo had to stop, make her let the box on the floor and kiss her.

They had been together for nearly five years now, she thought as she kissed her. The best five years of her life, no doubt about it; they had grown up together as children, and they had been friends when they were teens, but this… this glorious relationship they now had was something else. It was everything.

That was what had frightened her, wasn’t it? That had been one of the reasons that made her write those letters.

“Sam,” she began, when they finally parted to breath and her head was on Sam’s shoulder. “I…uh…” She hesitated. It wasn’t the first time she wanted to approach this subject, but the moment she started to she felt the tendrils of doubt in her stomach. If there was some drawback at knowing her girlfriend like she knew her own mind was that she knew what Sam was about to say as if she had already spoken. What was worse, she was worried that she might mention the matter to her mother, and even if she swore her to secrecy, Sam was not made for deceit. Letting her know was a dangerous move; if she as much as insinuated with her words of silences what Frodo was trying to do, Bilbo was more than able to put two and two together. Still, she wanted to try, like she had wanted all those times before. Not telling her girlfriend about what was going on was eating her alive. “You know how I said I wanted to find my father?”

“Frodo, we’ve been over this a million times,” Sam sighed, hugging her more closely. “You don’t need a father; you have a family already. Or are we not enough?”

“It’s not that,” she said, sighing too. Yes, exactly what she had expected her to say.

Valar, how could she explain this to her? How could she express that wanting to know him didn’t come from Bilbo and Sam not being enough, but from her fearing that she might no be, one day?

She couldn’t, or at least she had not yet found out how.

“Of course you are enough,” she said instead. “You are everything. Would I be marrying you if I didn’t think you were enough?”

Perhaps the frustration that she felt at not being able to express the importance of her lack to her girlfriend permeated her tone, because she could feel her tense again.

“Frodo…” Sam seemed to hesitate. “I know I have said this before, but we don’t need to do this. That doctorate in Minas Tirith…”

“I already said I wouldn’t go,” Frodo cut her off.

“Yes, but if Elrond asked they would offer it again, and you know he would.” She caressed her back. “I can take of your mother and the farm just fine, and we don’t need to get married just now. Go there, and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Staying here it is what you want to do, but it is what I must do,” she replied, as she had done so many times before. Which was why she simply couldn’t go; it would not be fair to Sam. “I don’t mind marrying you, silly. That has nothing to do with my studies. I want to marry you now, and I would when I was done with my doctorate.”

She would. Of course she would. Why wouldn’t she want to, really?

“For that same reason, we could marry then, instead of now.” She sighed. “If you do your doctorate and decide you want to come back here, that’s great. But you don’t know what might await for you if you went. I would never want to stand in the way of your opportunities.”

“Well, you wouldn’t, because this is what I choose -staying in the farm with my mom, and marrying you.”

Sam didn’t answer immediately -she just looked at her as if she didn’t complete buy it. Well, how could she, truly? She knew Frodo like the back of her hand -she knew how her whole being wanted to go to Minas Tirith and read ancient texts and learn Orcish and spend about two thousand hours in libraries and seminaries and other boring places that warned her little book-worm heart. But for the same reason she had to know how Frodo felt: the responsibility of taking care of that mother who had devoted her whole life to her upbringing, the guilt over leaving Sam there to do that in her stead if she went away. Yes, she knew all of that, and if she was just going to say again that she could be the one to sacrifice herself, Frodo didn’t want to hear it. Perhaps this would be the time she would give in the temptation.

But Sam didn’t say anything of the sort. She just took her side of the box again and nodded towards the house.

“Let’s go, then. We don’t want to keep the others waiting.”

“No, you are right. Let’s go.”

Perhaps it was for the best if they didn’t talk about this again. What good would it make, after all? No matter how much she thought about it, no matter how many conversations she had, Frodo knew what she had to do.

Chapter Text

“Do you think they will be there?” Bilbo anxiously asked, looking around. Her backyard was quite crowded with people enjoying the party, but she wasn’t able to find the ones she was looking for.

“Do I think they passed the chance of a place in which they can find music, free alcohol, and you?” Gandalf snorted. “My dearest Bilbo, I’d be highly surprised if you had ever dated even one guy who acted like that, not to mention three.”

“I don’t think they’ll be that interested in finding me,” she muttered. Considering the way she had acted when she had found them in her goat’s shed, they were more likely to think she had gone crazy with the years. “Not after all this time.”

“I am sure they came all the way down here for a reason,” Gandalf kindly replied. “And I’m not buying the ones they gave you, honestly.”

“Neither do I,” she admitted. Then again, what was she to believe? Surely they hadn’t come for her, and how in Arda could they know about Frodo? She had never told anyone about that, not even Beorn, who had been there for her during the whole pregnancy and the trying experience of inexpert motherhood. Even her friends had only ever known about Thorin! There was no way they had found out.

“Well, maybe we will discover later, and in any case we can do our best to keep them away from Frodo,” Gandalf promised, patting her back consolingly.

“Yes, that we can do,” she agreed. “Do you think Thranduil could seduce any of them and find out what they actually want? I am not above using any mean in this.”

Her friend snorted.

“If you are ready to leave your scruples behind I am sure I could obtain a confession from them, believe me. But that would not be a polite thing to do in a party.” He patted her back again. “Come on, let’s get you a drink. You look like you need it.”

“I could drink,” she admitted. “Besides, we should jump at the chance of drinking something that isn’t Dorwinion before Thranduil finishes her make up and comes to join us. Not that her wine isn’t the best, but it would be nice taking something else without her whining about the competence.”

“Absolutely,” Gandalf agreed; taking her arm, he lead their steps towards the bar Frodo’s friends had set up. May, one of Sam’s numerous sisters, was in charge of the drinks, and when she waved at them Bilbo sighed, satisfied, knowing she would serve them something nice and perfect to settle her nerves.

Which she might need, actually, because her three nightmares were sitting at the bar, too.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said in flat tone when they all turned to look at them. They were all nicely dressed up, she observed, and looked very handsome, although in very different ways. Not that she wanted to delve into that matter, no sir, particularly considering she might have put more attention to her own looks than she usually would.

To her big surprise -and, let’s admit, a little bit of annoyed disappointment-, they all seemed to be more interested in Gandalf than they were in her, though.

“Tharkûn?” Thorin asked, sounding amazed.

“Tharkûn?” Bofur repeated, arching his eyebrows. “I thought your name was Incánus.”

“Well, I did suspect that Mithrandir was an alias,” Nori muttered.

Bilbo turned towards her friend.

“Gandalf?”

“Well, well, Bilbo. So these are your old friends!” He shook his head, a huge grin appearing in his face. “Small world, truly.”

Ah, so he was going to act in a mysterious way instead of explaining what was going on, as he so often did. She turned towards the other three, in hopes of a better answer.

“How do you happen to know Gandalf? And what did you call him?” she demanded.

“Well, I thought his name was Tharkûn because he introduced himself that way,” Thorin said, frowning. Bilbo wouldn’t admit this under torture, but she had somehow missed that majestic scowl of his. “He was an antiquary contracted by my father to retrieve some antiques of our family.”

“Oh, I would describe that more as a hobby of mine,” Gandalf replied, composed as ever. She noticed he didn’t offer any explanation about his name.

“In Harad he is known as Incánus,” Bofur said, smiling. He seemed more amused than anything, which was hardly surprising. When she had met him years ago Bofur had been a man with three moods: absolute cheer, rage against injustice and avid curiosity. “At least among the local communities that he stopped from killing each other some years ago. I thought he was a mediator or a diplomat, although I would have been ready to declare him an Ainu, considering his intervention likely saved my life.”

Gandalf merely chucked, waving his hand like this fact wasn’t worth remarking.

“I am afraid I lack the studies of both mediation and diplomacy. I simply like peace.”

At this point, all of them turned expectantly towards Nori, who chewed on the straw of his drink.

“I don’t think I should be divulging details about our encounter, should I?”

“My dear fellow, don’t be shy! You knew of me as a weed seller, and there’s no shame in that,” Gandalf declared with such mirth that Bilbo knew for sure that wasn’t the whole story. Indeed, Nori snorted into his drink upon hearing the explanation.

“Yeah, let’s go with that,” he suggested, taking a gulp. It was clear he wasn’t about to elaborate.

Bilbo pinched the space between her eyebrows.

“Gandalf,” she sighed, “what do you do for a living?”

“Why, I think you know, Bilbo. I sell firecrackers.”

“Your drinks, my dears!” May cheerfully announced in that moment, sending them their way. Bilbo grabbed one of them, grateful. Weird and mysterious friends, three ex lovers and a soon-to-be-married daughter were all easier to handle with a cup in your hand, and if this wasn’t true, she was at least ready to pretend it so.

“Drinking something that isn’t Dorwinion? I’m wounded.” Thranduil made her entrance, elegant and magnificent as always. The effect was somehow spoiled by the way she wrinkled her nose in disgust when she saw her company. “Did you invite Thorin Longbeard? Now I’m wounded. For real.”

“Thranduil Lasgalen,” Thorin said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you here. Isn’t this too vulgar for you?”

Feeling the evening’s events increasingly surreal, Bilbo rubbed her forehead, and then winced. Damn, she had totally lost the habit of wearing make up.

“How comes you two know each other?”

“A family feud,” Thorin said.

“That, and some business competition some years ago.” Thranduil pursed her lips. “Thorin was a total nightmare.”

“Oh, I am sure it was all my fault,” he said, huffing.

“Well, I am!”

Bilbo cleared her throat.

“Whatever happened between you too, I would appreciate it if you could let it be until this wedding is over,” she said in threatening tone. She was pleased to see both of them were smart enough to drop the matter… for now, at least. Valar, of all the men in the world that her friend could have hated, she had to choose this one. “Well, then. Thranduil, I see you have met Thorin already. Those are Bofur and Nori.”

“A pleasure,” Bofur said, smiling at Thranduil with a charm that could well be read as interest. Bilbo wouldn’t blame him -her friend truly was stunning, and at least it was better than the animosity between her and Thorin. But the other woman seemed to be focused in Nori.

“Nori Dimas, right? Goodness, I can’t believe this. My son is a fan.”

“Really?” Nori perked up at this. “I am very glad to hear that. We intend to make things easier for the young ones.”

“Well, it did! He always says your pub isn’t only somewhere to have fun, but also the central place of a new safety net among those who want to broaden society’s views on gender.” Thranduil waved her hand. “Legolas, come here! Nori Dimas is in this party!”

“Really?” Legolas appeared at this as if summoned. Bilbo didn’t think he had ever seen his eyes so bright, except perhaps after being kissed by his boyfriend. “Oh, Eru,” he said in a fervent whisper. “He is!”

“Hello, lad,” Nori said with a smile. “Your mother tells me you like what we do.”

“Well, most certainly! The shows are amazing, but the debate clubs and courses, the community, that’s what makes me love it! It’s helped so many people understand ourselves better, really!”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Nori sounded softer that she had ever heard him.

Well, twenty years passed for everyone, Bilbo thought. The young boy she had met in Rivendel had been bright, clever, and incredibly charming, but he was also undeniably troubled -the more she knew him, the more Bilbo thought Nori tried to run from some kind of wound with too much booze, too many parties, too much anything that would make his life so intense he didn’t actually have to think. He certainly hadn’t been someone with the kind of job that helped other people understand themselves better, whatever it was.

Thorin must have changed in some ways, too, but he still seemed absolutely unable to read a room.

“I thought you had a daughter,” he commented. He sounded confused, not deliberately hurtful, and that was what saved him from having his nose punched -Thranduil had never stopped taking her Combat Sambo classes, and she wouldn’t mind breaking her manicure for this.

Then again, maybe she wouldn’t even need to -the man might be an old friend, a likely father of her daughter and possibly the love of her life, too, but if time had made him an asshole Bilbo would throw him out of his farm at herself, and her only regret would be the time lost thinking about him and the fact it would ruin Frodo’s bachelorette party. Although, if she heard the reason, Frodo would happily lend a hand, and also land a couple of kicks on him for good measure.

She didn’t want to think that he was jerk, but then again, it wouldn’t be the first time she had to kick him off, would it?

“You were wrong,” Thranduil said, the steel in her voice obvious for anyone. “I have a son.”

Then, with one more look at Legolas, Thorin finally seemed to catch up. His eyes widened and he held up his hands.

“I was wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “My apologies, lad.”

Bilbo let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Thranduil’s stiff posture relaxed, and Gandalf stopped looking like he was ready to kill.

“It’s alright,” Legolas said, sounding a bit strained but firm. He nodded at Thorin, accepting the apology, and he turned towards Nori. “Now, uhm… I know you nearly never let anyone have selfies with you, but… could I ask for one, please?”

“Sure thing, kid,” Nori replied after a moment of hesitation. He had seemed ready to attack, too, but by the time Legolas got out his phone he was smiling. “I would only ask you not to divulge that I am in this party. I want to spend the evening unrecognized.”

“I won’t,” Legolas promised. “Thank you so much, really.”

“Do not mention it,” Nori said, patting him in the back.

 Bilbo took a happy sip from her drink, sighing contently. Blood had not been spilled in her daughter’s wedding, three people had been made happy thanks to a picture and a conversation, and the man she had -perhaps- spent twenty years missing wasn’t an asshole. Life was good.

“Legolas?” asked a new voice. “There you are, love; you disappeared and I… oh.”

Bilbo would have liked to think that Gimli was about to start swooning over Nori, too, but she wasn’t counting on it. That “oh” had been way too loaded for it to be entirely joyous.

And indeed, Thorin was staring at Gimli with a mix of amazement and horror that certainly merited that “oh”. Not that the boy was looking at him in any way that resembled casualness.

“Gimli? Is everything alright?” Legolas asked with obvious concern.

“Mmm? Aye, it is.” Gimli cleared his throat. “Hello, Uncle Thorin.”

“Gimli,” Thorin said. He had managed to stop staring at him like a deer in the headlight and looked perhaps a bit more composed when he rose to his feet and grabbed a fistful of Gimli’s t-shirt in one of his huge hands. “Please, excuse us for a moment.”

*

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed the moment he and Gimli had reached anything resembling privacy.

He had thought he had seen Glóin’s son that evening, next to the road, and he had hidden as well as he had been able to in Bofur’s van. Still, he had hoped he could avoid running into him, even if his suspicion proved true -after all, he was only going to be here for a day and a half, and there were many guests in this wedding. He probably had not even seen him, but another lad that resembled his nephew, and for all he knew Gimli was far away instead of in that farm in the middle of nowhere. What were the chances?

Always slim when it came to keeping his nosy relatives out of his personal life, that’s what they were. Well, now it was time to make some damage control, and that started by making Gimli feel like he was the one in the wrong. Not that he hoped it would work particularly well -the boy was very level-headed and calm- butat least it would buy him some time until he could come up with a passable excuse.

“Attending a wedding, of course! Why, what are you doing here?”

“I… well.” And truly, there was no shame in the truth -the problem was just what he must leave out, or the way his too transparent face might betray him. “The same. The bride is the daughter of a friend of mine. One of them, at least.”

“I’m assuming you mean Bilbo, because Sam’s parents have never been out of their farm,” Gimli said. He narrowed his eyes and looked suspiciously at Thorin. “A friend of yours? Outside of the family? How comes?”

Thorin growled. Aye, he understood that this might be a surprise. He had never found easy making friends -he was better skilled in making enemies, actually-, and with the time his circled had ended up more or less reduced to his closer kin. But acknowledging that meant admitting that Bilbo was really, really special for him, and privacy was a concept that his family didn’t understand. Revealing this to Gimli would be like telling the whole clan, and he wasn’t ready for that.

Time to attack.

“Speaking about friends and family,” he began in a menacing tone, “does your father know that you are dating Thranduil Lasgalen’s son?”

Gimli’s eyes widened.

“No,” he admitted. “I, uh… I told him we were friends, and he didn’t take it well. So I didn’t… no.”

He didn’t imagine Glóin would take it well, indeed -he had butted heads with Thranduil even more explosively that Thorin himself had, and while he was a very dotting father, his anger was truly volcanic. Which meant that Gimli had very good reasons to negotiate, and he could bribe him into silence. Excellent.

Thorin put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

 “Let’s make a deal,” he proposed. “I won’t tell your father about your boyfriend, and in exchange you won’t tell anyone in the family about me being here. How does that sound?”

He thought it was a very tempting offer, but Gimli’s shoulder didn’t seem to relax under his hand. Weird.

“All right,” the boy finally said. “Aye, all right. I won’t tell anyone.”

His voice sounded somewhat strained, but when Thorin scanned his face it looked normal enough, and he knew Gimli was an honest kid. If he said he wouldn’t tell, then he wouldn’t.

“Great,” he said, clapping his shoulder. “That’s settled, then.”

“Thorin Longbeard!” Bilbo’s voice said. “What do you think you are doing?”

Was he pathetic if he admitted he had missed the way she could use her tone like a punishing whip?

“I was having a word with my nephew,” he announced. He clapped Gimli’s shoulder, more awkwardly this time. “Right, Gimli?”

“Uh, aye. Aye, Bilbo, don’t you worry -there was something me needed to talk about.”

She was still unconvinced, he could tell, but Gimli’s smile seemed to settle the matter.

“I’ll be going,” he announced. “Can’t leave my boyfriend on his own close to a bar.”

“Lightweight?” Thorin asked, but his nephew snorted.

“No -he won’t let any for the rest of us. See you around, uncle.”

Then he disappeared, and he and Bilbo were alone. Goodness. Alone.

“Well,” she said, looking at him, as if he expected him to fill the silence. Thorin found that a bit unfair. He could go on for hours when it came to his favourite subjects, but he was utterly lost if asked to do small talk. Bilbo knew that.

Or maybe she had forgotten. Damn, it had been twenty years. It was a miracle she hadn’t forgotten him, altogether, and that was most likely because she had hurt her badly the last time he had been here.

“So… Gimli’s your nephew?”

“Aye, although somewhat distant. He is the son of one of my cousins.”

“He doesn’t share you surname,” she observed.

Such a simple sentence, but it made him feel like he was burning and freezing all over -just the idea that she mentioned she knew something about him made Thorin loose his head. Absurd, truly -her memories of her surname probably weren’t very fond.

“No, he uses his mother’s name,” he replied.

“Ah.”

Silence stretched again, fat and uncomfortable -so different to the silences they used to have back then, that would often disolve in silly laughs and kisses, when one of the two couldn’t keep their hands away form the other. Thorin thought in about five different ways to break it, but he discarded all of them. Damn, why was he so useless when it came to those things?

“I really like what you did in the house,” he finally said. Architecture was a safe topic, probably. “It’s very… organic.”

Very charming, very homely; that curved walls that made it look like a burrow also gave and intimate, comforting feeling. The colours’ palette was also very warm, and the green round door made the entrance look unique.

“Thank you,” she said. She sounded slightly uncomfortable. “I used the sketches you did when you were here. Some of them, at least.”

“Did you?” He had thought about it when he had first arrived, but he had concluded he must have been mistaken -he surely couldn’t remember what he had drawn twenty years ago, and she wouldn’t have used it. “Well, I… I’m glad. That it was useful, I mean.”

“It was.” She cleared her throat. “I should go back, and see if I’m needed somewhere.” She smiled. “Apparently, a wedding is a place where people might end up reavealing dark secrets or wanting to spill blood.”

She said it in a light tone, but he winced all the same.

“I am sorry about… you know. I didn’t realize.”

“Oh, so you stand by your comments when it comes to Thranduil?”

Now she was definitely teasing now, to his huge relief. Therefore, he decided to nod after pretending to think if over.

“Aye. If she is your friend she must not be impossible to like her somehow, but…”

Bilbo laughed.

“I know how she can be. It’s alright, as long as you hold your tongue and let her be.”

“That I can do,” he promised. “I’ll only be here for another day, after all.”

“Indeed.” She looked at him intently. She looked like she was about to ask something, paused, and finally seemed to resolve. “Why are you here, Thorin?”

“Because… because I…”

Because I wanted to apology; I should apology, he thought. Because we were young, and I was very stupid, and I have paid for it these last twenty years. Because I somehow knew that the sight of you would prove to me I'm still alive, and still twenty in some part of my heart.

“I was in the area,” he pitifully concluded. It didn’t came as a big surprise that Bilbo’s nostrils flared and her face turned somewhat stony.

“I see,” she said. “Well, then. I’ll see you around.”

He watched her go, trying to formulate words that might stop her in her tracks, trying to come up with a line that encapsulated how he felt. He couldn’t find it, of course; he would have been really surprised if he had. After all, he hadn’t been able to for the last twenty-thee years. For longer than her daughter had been alive.

He suddenly frowned, thinking, and then his eyes widened in realization.

*

Nori was having a smoke when he heard soft footsteps approaching him.

“Hi,” Frodo said when he turned towards her. Not for the first time, he was reminded of her mother at her age; that sweet, cheerful smile was all Bilbo’s, visible and bright even in this secluded spot that the light of the party barely reached. “Legolas is really excited about meeting you. I wanted to thank you for being so kind to him.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, smiling as well.

He had meant what he had said. Letting the young ones know there were people like them, people who could understand and were willing to lend a hand… that had been a big part of the project from the start. He had been a bad, bad man for many years; he was past denying that. But when he started again, when he was granted a second chance, he had wanted to do something meaningful, something that helped making this world a better place.

It still felt deceptive, sometimes. He was praised, now, for what he was doing, and while it made him happy to be able to do something worth praising, it also made him feel like a liar. Peopled didn’t know what he had been, and he worked very hard to keep things that way.

Take Frodo, for instance. The girl though him some funny, charming old mate of her mom; for all he knew, she though the shadiest thing he had ever been had been buying weed from Mithrandir- Gandalf, apparently, if that wasn’t another alias. The memory made him supress a smile; while the other man had indeed introduced himself as a weed seller the first time they met, that description omitted rather large elements of the encounter. Then again, as anyone who had ever been arrested would tell you, there was one golden rule: if caught red-handed, try to confess a lesser crime.

“I’m glad you came,” she softly said. “Even if it’s only for Legolas’s sake, I’m glad you came.”

“You invited me,” he pointed out, and the girl licked her lips.

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

He hesitated, but there was no avoiding it. The doubt had sat heavy in his mind for the last seventy-two hours, and his curiosity had only grown once he had arrived here and met her. He had always been curious, after all, hungry for new acquaintances, new experiences, new challenges. Half of his problems had started that way, after all, and he had been taught by life that some things were better left unsaid.

But this…

“Frodo,” he carefully asked, pointedly looking at the darkness of the fields beyond them. “Am I your father?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I… I think you are.”

Well, there it was. It was hardly ground-breaking, after he had spent the last few days mulling it over, but it still felt like a punch in the guts. Some part of him -to his utter surprise- wanted to rejoice in this: he had a daughter, and what a charming, lovely girl she was. He had -once again- a second chance. But the biggest part was screaming in panic and anxiety. This was just another thing for him to fuck up, wasn’t it? A daughter! How in Arda was he supposed to know what to do with a daughter? How was he supposed to dump everything he had done, everything he was, on that poor girl’s head?

He turned towards her. Her eyes were huge, innocent, and that hurt -that was a look which innocence he didn’t want to see lost, and he knew that was going to happen very soon. He tainted everything in his life, and this would be no different.

“I can’t be your father,” he said, and saw her flinch. Well, of course she flinched; she didn’t know what he meant by that. She didn’t know it was for her own good.

“I wouldn’t… I didn’t ask…” She took a step backwards. Good. It was good that she put some distance between them. “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, I’m not asking… anything, really, but I though… I wanted to have my dad at my wedding. I wanted someone who walked me down the aisle.”

That made him huff a laugh.

“Believe me, kid, I’m the last man you would want to walk you down the aisle,” he said, with such venom he even surprised himself. Frodo flinched again and her face fell.

“Alright,” she saw, barely audible over the distant noise of the party. “I’m sorry,” she added, disappearing into the shadows, and Nori had to swallow a lump in his throat.

“Fuck,” was all he said, throwing the butt of his cigarette to the floor and stepping on it.

*

Bofur, she found out, had been kidnapped by Pippin and Merry, who had forced him into a dance of La Macarena. He performed it with more humour than skill, and he didn’t seem at all put out when they pushed him towards Frodo, announcing it was time somebody tied Boromir up and did body shots on him.

“Better him than me, I’m sure,” he commented, laughing, while he patted his soft belly. “Or at least more enjoyable for those two lovely girls.”

Frodo smiled somewhat weakly.

“Do you have children, Bofur?” she asked. Maybe she shouldn’t -but who knew? Nori hadn’t been interested in being her father, but she still had two chances.

“Who, me?” The man laughed. “Hell no; not that I know, at least. For the best, probably; I think I would have been a terrible father. I don’t have space for parenting in my lifestyle, you know.”

She could feel her own face crumbling, and what was worse, he realized, his own features showing a sudden concern that made her close to tears. He was seconds away from asking what happened, and she sure didn’t want to explain herself. Not if that was what he thought of having children.

Then he figured it out. He looked at her with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She run.

She had never been so disappointed. All her life there had been that huge, unanswered question, that huge gap in the picture she had wanted to fill. She thought she might; she had thought so for the whole wonderful afternoon -one of them had to be her dad, and they had all been lovely; she would have been happy to be claimed by any of them. But she had forgotten they may not feel the same way. That they might not want anything to do with her.

“Frodo! Frodo, wait!”

She hesitated, hoped stopping her feet. If Bofur was just going to utter some excuses, she didn’t want to hear them, but if he…

“Wait,” he repeated, although he had reached her. He lifted a hand, hesitating, as if he wanted to reach for her but wasn’t very sure this was a good idea. Frodo chose to read it as a good sign. “Look, I… What I said…” He took a breath. “I really think I would have been a terrible father… for children. But you are… you are grown up. If you… I mean, I might be jumping into conclusions, but…”

“You are not,” she said. Her heart was staring to beat so quick and loudly she had problems hearing herself over the blood that rushed through her body. “Jumping to conclusions, I mean. I think… I think you are my father, yes.”

“Mahal,” he whispered, looking at her intently. He looked afraid, that was for certain, but also… delighted?

“Are you happy about this?” She tentatively put a hand on his arm, and he didn’t run away. Good. It had to be good.

“I don’t know what to feel,” he admitted. He suddenly laughed and took her free hand on his. “A daughter! I have a daughter!”

“Yes!” Frodo said. She could feel a huge grin spreading in her face. “And I have father!”

He shook his head, clearly amazed.

“Where is Bilbo? I should…”

“No!” She gripped his hand tighter. “No, don’t tell her anything yet. I… why don’t you give me away tomorrow, in the wedding? It would be wonderful surprise!”

“Who, me?” He chuckled. “Goodness, that I had never pictured.”

“But will you?”

“Of course.” He bent down and gave her a peck in the forehead. “If that’s what my daughter wants.”

*

“Frodo?”

The girl turned towards him from where she was happily dancing with her girlfriend, all sparkly eyes and flushed pink cheeks, and Thorin found her lovely. Lovelier even that he had during the whole day. Under the new light of what he had deduced, she was now stunning, radiant, perfect. Her daughter.

“Could we dance for a moment?” he asked. He hadn’t meant to, but he had used The Voice -the one his own father had taught him when he was a child they all hoped would one day sit in Erebor’s throne, the one that made employees tremble and some women horny. The one people just obeyed.

Frodo was no exception, it seemed; she followed him and let him put his arms around her.

“How long have you known I’m your father?” he asked. Her eyes seemed to grow even more, but there was no surprise or denial in them, nor did she say he was crazy for thinking such a thing. Thorin’s heart beat faster. He knew he was right, he knew it, and she was just confirming it.

“Not long at all,” she said. “But Thorin… my mom doesn’t know I know. Can we wait until after the wedding?”

The wedding, Valar, the wedding. He had a daughter, and she was getting married in a matter of hours. He felt like he could burst with emotions.

“Who’s giving you away at the wedding?” he asked when the idea crossed his mind.

“Nobody!”

“Wrong!” he triumphantly said, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving them an affectionate squeeze. “I am! It will be our secret until then.”

Frodo still looked worried -even more alarmed than before, if anything, but before he could further reassure her, an arm wrapped around her waist.

“Could I possibly steal her for this dance?” Nori asked, and with that, she was dragged into the crowd.

*

Her mind was spinning. First Bofur… and Thorin… and Nori wanted… what did he even want?

“I need to apologize,” he said. His look left no room for doubting his honesty. “I had good reasons for trying to keep you away from me, but I won’t if that hurts you.” He hugged her. “I’ve done many wrong things in my life, but letting you down won’t be one of my mistakes. If you want me to walk you down the aisle, then so will I.”

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight, the song in the background implored, and Frodo would have laughed, if she had been able to breath correctly. A man after midnight! All her life she had wanted a man that she could call father, a man that wanted to be in her life and fill that gap that had his shape. And now she had gotten three, and they all wanted to give her the same thing, all at once.

It was a good thing Nori was hugging her, because the spins in her brain suddenly became darkness and she fainted.

Chapter Text

She blinked in a room that was way too lightened for it to be early.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Aragorn said, and Frodo sat up, panicked. He was sitting on her desk, with Arwen by his side, and when she looked through the window she confirmed her impression. It had to be late.

“Goodness, what time is it? Have I overslept?”

“Calm down.” Arwen came closer in order to take her wrist. She seemed to search for her pulse. “Perfectly normal,” she informed Aragorn, who crossed his arms and nodded.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He smiled. “You are officially our first patient after graduating, Frodo. Congratulations.”

“I appreciate it, but really, the hour…”

“It’s not too late,” Arwen replied. “Don’t you worry.”

“All right.” She looked around. “Where are Pippin and Merry?”

“We decided to trade them our bed to keep an eye on you; after all, the sedative we gave you was rather strong.” Aragorn arched an eyebrow. “We would like to know what made you faint, though. I know you said it was the heat, but you had never had a problem with that.”

“Your mother certainly didn’t believe it,” Arwen added. “She sent that man in whose arms you fainted the most chilling looks, although he endured them rather well, I must say. As for Sam, she is worried beyond herself, thinking it must be the stress of the wedding.”

That made her raise her knees and huge them, hiding her face in her legs. Valar, she was getting married that same evening, and Sam had been the last thing in her mind these past days. She had been so intent in finding her father that she barely paid any attention to the wedding or her girlfriend, and yet Sam worried that she might be stressed about it.

“Is it because of Minas Tirith?” Arwen wanted to know. “Have you been fighting again? Because my father could probably solve it if you were having second thoughts.”

“We have discussed it a bit more -not fought over it, not really,” she said against the meat of her tights. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Aragorn insisted. “Come on, Frodo. What’s going on?”

She hesitated, but she could use some help, or at least some support. Besides, she could trust Aragorn and Arwen when it came to keeping secrets.

“I invited my dad to the wedding,” she admitted, lifting up her head so she could look at them. “Only… I don’t know who he is. There could be three candidates, I mean.”

Aragorn frowned, as if thinking.

“Are those the guys that you were with yesterday? The ones of the van?”

“Yes, that’s it. I… I wanted to know them better.”

“Understandably,” Arwen said. In spite of her words, she was frowning too. “But Frodo, how are you going to know which one of them is really your dad? Do you at least have a suspicion, or a clue of some kind?”

She sighed, defeated.

“I thought I would recognize him when I saw him, or that at least I could tell after I had talked with them. But… I don’t know, really,” she admitted. “It could be any of them.”

“That’s a bugger,” Aragorn said, twisting his mouth in a grimace of sympathy. “You can’t tell them until you are sure, of course.”

“Can’t I?” she dryly asked.

“Well, obviously. If you did it would be…” He paused. “Frodo… did you tell them?”

He sounded like he would rather hear her say no, even if it was a lie.

“I… did?”

“All of them?” Arwen pressed, wide-eyed. “The whole situation?”

“Well, no,” she admitted, cringing a bit. “All of them… all of them think they are my dad. And they don’t know about the others, and… and they all want to give me away at the wedding.”

Aragorn stared at her with something between pity, amazement and disappointment.

“I am impressed,” he said in a dry tone. “This mess surpasses anything Pippin or Merry have pulled out over the years. Congratulations.”

Arwen snickered at that, sounded as nervous as amused. Frodo groaned, closing her yes and resting her forehead on her knees. She couldn’t claim he was wrong.

“What does Sam say about all this?” Arwen wanted to know. That prompted another groan.

“I haven’t told her,” she mumbled.

“Come again?” Aragorn’s tone was now in a point between disappointed and politely disbelieving.

“Well, I haven’t! She wouldn’t like it.”

“That should tell you something,” Arwen judged. She sounded incredulous, too. “If Sam thinks something is silly, then it most likely it is.”

“Maybe.” She sighed and looked at them again, begging them to understand with her eyes. “But this was important to me. Still is, actually.”

“All right.” Aragorn sighed. In spite of his obvious exasperation, Frodo found the way he was scratching his beard very comforting. It meant he was mentally preparing to take action, and things always went more smoothly when you had Aragorn by your side. “Do you have a preference about who keeps the title of father and, more immediately, walks you down the aisle this evening?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I don’t know them that well.”

“Then we’ll try to do that for you. Thorin commented yesterday that he wanted to make some repairs on his motorbike; Boromir and I can help him with that. The one with a moustache seemed to like Pippin and Merry well enough; we’ll set them loose upon him and they’ll know even his credit card password by nightfall. As for the third one…

“Legolas and I can handle Nori,” Arwen decided. “And Gimli will help, unless you need him for the motorbike repairs. I think he could give you some information about Thorin, though; I have heard they are somehow related.” Her tone held a warning when she said: “If you want our help, though, you’ll have to tell Sam. That’s non-negotiable.”

Frodo sighed.

“I really should,” she admitted. “She said she would spend the morning with her parents, though, and I would rather not have this conversation with them about to interrupt any time. I think I’ll have to wait until she comes later.”

“All right, then; it would certainly be better if you spoke about this privately,” Arwen agreed. She took her hand. “I know this is important for you, but do not forget what you already have.”

“I could not,” she promised with a weak smile. “Not with friends such as you.”

*

Did someone have the right to look so good while wiping off motor’s grease of their hands? Bilbo didn’t think they did.

To make things worse, Thorin was laughing -the low, polite laugh, not the delighted one, nor the surprised one, and how she hated that she still could tell- while he thanked Aragorn and Boromir for helping him with some repairs. Bilbo loved Frodo’s friends, but in that instant she would struck them. How dare them made Thorin laugh and look so approachable? How dare them make him look so good, so unbelievable good there, in her back yard, while she crouched and sweated there, trying to repair a broken fence.

In a way, it seemed terribly metaphoric. Thorin got to laugh and look magnificent while she was reduced to try to prevent her life from falling to pieces around her -again.

He didn’t know, a reasonable voice in her mind told her. You weren’t sure the baby was his, so you never told him and chose to bring Frodo up on your own. You can’t blame him for living his life in the meantime.

Well, she hadn’t told him for a good reason, hadn’t she? She had made him go and stayed away from him for a good reason.

“Do you want hand?”

And he could have stayed put away, but no, he didn’t have the decency to do so, apparently.

“No need,” Bilbo said, fighting with the fence. In a way, she knew she would regret it as soon as the words left her mouth. She was skilful enough, and much more after twenty-three years running this place. Still, she had not forgotten how incredibly dexterous he could be with any kind of physical work -and how likely she was to become incredibly clumsy in his presence.”

“Are you sure? Because I could…”

“I can deal with my own messes,” she coldly said, and heard Thorin sigh.

“Is it really your mess, though? From what I hear, it’s going to become Frodo’s, too.” She didn’t answer, unsure about where did he want to go, and he kept on talking. “She told me she and Sam will he running this place with you, and Bilbo, I get that you might need help, but Frodo? She is a bright girl, she shouldn’t…”

That was it. She left the fence be and shot him a glare, putting her hand on her hips and trying to look as impressive as she could, given the height difference between the two of them. Like everything else, his measurements had always been unfair.

“Excuse me,” she said, acidic. “What in Arda makes you think you know my daughter better than I do? What makes you think you could handle her any better? What makes you think that any concern, any idea you have had about her, I haven’t had already?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, frowning. “No, that’s- you are right, Bilbo; I don’t know her, and I know you must have her best interests at heart. But I also know that when you raise up your child, no matter how dedicated a parent might be, they need help. You don’t need to do everything on your own -you simple can’t.”

Ah. So he knew about being a parent and raising children, didn’t he? Well, he had gone to get married to his fiancé, after all -for all she knew, he had now a dozen children with his wife. He needed to extend that royal blood of his, didn’t he?

“Well, here’s the thing -I like doing things on my own. I like being on my own, actually, and I don’t need your help, or any other middle-aged man telling me how to run my life. Just… just let me be, Thorin, alright? Let me be.”

The fence could wait, she decided; it was time to get into the house and try to calm herself. Thorin didn’t try to follower her, and she didn’t turn her head to look at him. She might well cry if she did.

*

Thorin stood there for a moment, rubbing at his forehead. Mahal, he was terrible at this; truly terrible. Not that Bilbo had ever been easy to handle -so waspy, so particular in many ways-, but considering the amount of time Dís had spent telling him he was absolutely incompetent when it came to talking about feelings, he had come to accept it must be true.

And twenty years apart had not done them any favours, of course. Speaking to her now was… difficult, painful. Valar, it used to be so nice, it used to be so good. It used to be like singing or breathing or designing. Something he just did, and made him happy.

Turning away from her had been the worst mistake of his life, really, and he had been fool enough to do it twice.

“There he is! Uncle Thorin!”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” he muttered under his breath.

He turned, fervently wishing this to be a hallucination caused by too much sun, or perhaps a wild coincidence -surely someone else was called Thorin, someone with a nephew whose voice sounded exactly like Kíli’s…

“It really is!” Fíli’s presence he had expected, since he and Kíli barely were apart from each other, but Dwalin’s was a surprise. His cousin and best friend was looking at him as incredulously as Thorin was looking at him. “Small world, really.”

“What,” he grumbled in his more menacing voice, “are the three of you doing here?”

Unfortunately, as useful as that voice was in most cases, these three were sort of immune to it. Dwalin had grown up with him and therefore was not impressed; Fíli had stopped reacting to it once he became an adult, and Kíli simply had no sense of danger whatsoever.

“Gimli called us yesterday,” his older nephew explained. “He said he thought he had seen you here, which we found very interesting, since you said you were going to the Iron Hills for a couple of days. So we told Mom, and she said The Carrock was, and I quote ‘where your uncle’s greatest love lived’.”

“So you see, uncle, we really had no choice but coming,” Kíli said. “And not only because we were curious -if you are trying to get in touch with an old girlfriend of yours, you are going to need our help; don’t even try to deny it.”

He wanted a drink, or perhaps jumping from the top of The Carrock to the river below. If Dís knew, she must be hours away from kicking a door open and bursting into the farm; she likely hadn’t made an appearance yet because she was on a trip in Umbar. And if Dwalin knew, that meant that Balin would in a matter of days, and he would spend the next weeks -or months!- thoroughly interrogating Thorin about this matter. Great. Just great.

“Gimli told me yesterday he wouldn’t tell, the traitor,” he muttered through clenched teeth, and the worst thing was that he couldn’t retaliate. He would feel bad telling Glóin about his son’s boyfriend; he truly liked Gimli.

“Oh, that would explain the weird phone message we got a little bit after midnight,” Fíli reflexively said. “It said ‘forget what I told you before. Do not come to pry or my prick will be cut off’, or something along those lines.”

“Right.” Gimli must have called in the evening, then, before he had a chance to make a deal with him. He had promised he wouldn’t say, after all -not that he already had. The boy was very skilful looking for loopholes; it must be a trait inherited from her lawyer mother. “Such a pity you didn’t listen to him, really.”

“Helping you find love at the cost of someone else’s genitals? Not a hard bargain, uncle,” Kíli judged.

“It’s good to know how you feel about other people’s physical integrity, lad,” Dwalin dryly commented. Thorin’s attention turned towards him; his presence intrigued him again.

“My nephews are idiots through and through, but how comes you accompany them?” Some years ago he would have though he was there under Dís’ orders, but they had been divorced for four years, now. Even her sister’s leashes weren’t that long.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t. We met at the airport and came together, but I’m here for another reason.”

Thorin frowned.

“Work?”

“Not exactly.”

“He is being very mysterious about it,” Kíli said, shrugging. That made Thorin narrow his eyes; it was most likely work, then, but it didn’t make sense that Dwalin had come on his own, then, instead of being accompanied by other agents, and he wouldn’t endanger his former stepsons remaining close to them while on a mission. “Back to the cool part, Uncle; where is your girlfriend?”

“Mahal, Kíli!” He looked around, paranoid, but they seemed to be alone in the yard. “She isn’t my girlfriend, and she would likely skin me alive if he heard you say such a thing.”

“But there is a woman, and she is here,” Fíli pressed, obviously excited. Thorin’s wish to jump from the Carrock increased.

“Aye, well, there’s a woman, but we don’t… it’s… it’s complicated.”

“Complicated as in she being married to another, or complicated as in you don’t know how to speak to her?”

“Neither. Well, the latter’s certainly part of it, but…”

Suddenly, Dwalin stiffened and fixed his gaze in a point at his back, where Thorin could hear a gasp. When he turned, thought, all he could see was Nori, looking at Dwalin with what one could describe as panic.

“Excuse me,” his cousin said. The next he knew, Nori had disappeared into the house, closely followed by Dwalin.

“Weird,” Kíli said, blinking. Thorin would have to agree with him.

“Is it a boyfriend, then? Is that man the boyfriend?” Fíli wanted to know.

Thorin groaned. Alright, alright; time to tell the truth. Letting them try and guess would potentially end in disaster, particularly once they met Bilbo. And he couldn’t risk any disaster today -not in her daughter’s wedding day.

“If you reveal what I am about to say, I’ll tell your mother about the time you broke her washing machine,” he announced. That got their attention; they both gulped and looked at him with huge, scared eyes. Good. They might not fear his menacing voice anymore, but they still held a healthy amount of fear for Dís. Which was only fair -Thorin feared her too.

Fair, and advantageous, right now.

*

“Nori! Come here!”

He had spent so much time running away from that voice, that man; he had thought he wouldn’t have to anymore, unless something went horribly wrong. Ah, well, less than 12 hours of parenthood and things were already going south; he might not know Frodo, but he doubted she would appreciate the scene and drama this might cause.

He had crossed the kitchen and went down the corridor, but in the hall Dwalin’s long legs finally made him close the distance between them, and his boyfriend managed to shove him against a wall and pin him there.

“Nori, please,” he begged. He had a hands on one of Nori’s hip; the other was at his opposite shoulder. They held only enough strength to keep him there; he knew he could break loose if he wanted to, and was much tempted to do so. He refused to look at Dwalin’s face, but he knew what he would find in there: the worry, the regret. He knew his boyfriend well, after all, so he chose to close his eyes and sighed, surrendering. “Please, tell me this is not about drugs.”

He chuckled unhappily.

“What, would you prefer me to do crime than to do drugs?”

He felt Dwalin going rigid. He deserved that distrust, probably.

“I wouldn’t be very happy, either, but of course I would prefer it. I would rather see you in prison than in a grave.”

“Oh, would you come to see me? As officer Longbeard, I presume; we both know you wouldn’t want to come as my boyfriend.”

And there it was, the ongoing discussion that they had been having during the last weeks. Nori had accepted Dwalin’s reticence to introduce him to his family when they started going out two years ago; he had barely been out of his divorce, and explaining to your family that you had started dating the man you had spent a decade chasing through Arda would have been undoubtedly awkward. And Eru knew Nori hadn’t wanted to worry about that back then; rehab and the need to build a new life inside of the law after nearly two decades of crimes and prison felt like more than enough. As time went by, though, Nori had started to feel like a dirty little secret, and that didn’t bode well. He didn’t mind being dirty, but he had never been little, and he was done being secret.

“I would not discuss that here,” Dwalin said in a softer tone. “But please, Nori, please tell me what’s going on. Or at least talk to Dori; he’s worried sick.”

“You told Dori?” he hissed, annoyed.

“He called you and you didn’t pick up the phone. What was I supposed to do when he asked, lie to him? You know that wouldn’t work.”

He snorted.

“No, it wouldn’t,” he agreed. Dori could smell lies a mile away; he was already trying to work out how to explain Frodo when he came back, because traying to keep her hidden simply wasn’t an option. After having to suffer Nori’s teenage years Dori wouldn’t likely be astonished that he had fathered a child -the Valar knew he hadn’t lacked opportunities- but he would fret and meddle, and he didn’t think the poor girl should be subjected to that so soon. He had hoped his absence would go unnoticed by his brothers, but it seemed like he wouldn’t be so lucky.

Dwalin was unaware of his inner worries, of course, and his sudden disappearance was mor than enough to unsettle him. He took a breath and asked, very carefully:

“Nori, did I cause this? I know it hurts that I haven’t introduced you to my family, but I didn’t think… Going abroad without telling me, I just, I didn’t expect...”

“It hurts,” Nori said, because it was true. But he didn’t want Dwalin to think he had been the cause he had left, either, since it wasn’t true. He didn’t deserve to carry with others’ faults. “It’s not about that, though. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Alright,” He let out his breath slowly, clearly relieved. “Then I have another question. Is it something I can help you with? Because if it is, I want to.”

That made his bubble in a most uncomfortable, silly manner. Yes, Dwalin might not be a very satisfactory boyfriend in some ways, but he was a very reliable one on others. He might keep him apart form his family, but he always as there for him.

“It might,” he finally admitted. Dwalin did have experience when it came to parenthood; he had his own three daughters and had been a very close stepfather to Fíli and Kíli, after all. He, on the contrary only had the memory of taking care of Ori when he was a baby, before he went away definitely; Dori had been a father to the boy, but he hadn’t, not really. Asking help from Dwalin sounded much better than going to his own brother, to be honest.

He still hesitated for a moment, though; his tongue was held by a lifetime’s habit of keeping secrets. But he finally caved. He knew he could trust him with this, and  he truly could do with his advice. So he looked and announced:

“I… I have a daughter.”

His boyfriend didn’t say anything, which surprised him; in Nori’s opinion, this was a new that merited some comment. Spurred but that silence, he finally looked up again, only to find Dwalin’s eyes wide and his mouth open.

“A daughter,” he repeated. He frowned, as if deducing. “Here?”

“Yes; she lives here, with her mother. I didn’t know of her until some days ago.”

“Is that why you left? To go find her?”

“To find out if she was my daughter,” he corrected. “She confirmed it yesterday.” Something crossed his mind. “But you have to promise me not to tell anyone! She wants to keep it secret until this evening.”

“Why? What happens this evening?”

He had thought himself incapable of blushing anymore, but he found out, with no little surprise, that he could.

“She wants me to give her away. In her wedding.”

“You?” Dwalin laughed, amused and affectionate; it was Nori’s favourite among his laughs, and his heart reacted to it, even if this was not the time for it. “And she is getting married? How old is she?”

“Twenty-three.” He bit on his lip. “As for the giving away part, you better help me with that. You know I am liable to mess it up.”

“Me? Goodness, it’s not like my daughters are old enough for this; I have no clue of how this is done.” He put his hands in Nori’s shoulders and squeezed them. “But do not worry, love. We’ll find out, and you’ll ace it, as always. You always own any stage you step in.”

Oh. He  had not thought of it that way -parenting was an upsetting, dangerous ground, not to mention something as formal as a wedding. But Dwalin was right; a stage wasn’t. as long as he could play a role, he might manage.

“It seems easier if I think of it that way,” he admitted.

 “You’ll do alright,” he said, smiling. “I am sure of it.” He shook his head. “A daughter, and so grown up! How is she?”

“I don’t know her that well, yet.” Some things he had observed, though. “She is a good girl. Quiet, bright. She studied in Rivendell -Literature, I think-, but she plans to stay here and help her mother run this farm, maybe take some visitors. And her girlfriends seems a decent sort.” He thought of something else and smirked. “By the way, your nephew Gimli is a friend of hers, and he is dating Thranduil Mirkwood’s son. You are not allowed to throw a fit, thought; I rather like the kid.”

“He is dating Thranduil Mirkwood’s son?” He shook his head while turned reflective. “Tell me… he won’t happen to be the lad you took a picture with, is he?”

“How do you… ah.” And that was why he didn’t usually allow people to take selfies with him. Sometimes they ended in places where a man who had once been wanted by police forces and crime lords alike didn’t want them found. “He did that thing with the internet and posted it online, didn’t him?”

“Aye, he did. That’s how I found you.” His lips twisted in a smirk. “So you see, I can’t really hate the lad. That’s how I found you.”

 “Bugger.” He sighed, annoyed at himself. He had told Legolas he didn’t want his presence in the party advertised, but probably hadn’t seen any problem in publishing it without saying where he was. “I’m getting sloppy in this cruel, modern world.”

“Aye, you are. Good thing your criminal days are over.” He still had a hand on Nori’s shoulder, but he moved it to caress his boyfriend’s neck hesitantly. “And that you have a police officer by your side… if you want him.”

He was pondering his answer, but he never got to utter it; the main door opened right then, centimetres away from where they stood, and Bilbo’s laugh died in her mouth when she saw them. Nori couldn’t blame her; Dwalin’s aspect was impressive enough, and to find a huge, unknown man pressing a guest against a wall couldn’t exactly be normal for most people.

Mithrandir -Gandalf?- was unfazed, though.

“Officer Longbeard! Long time not seen.” He stared at them with obvious curiosity. “I didn’t know you were still in contact.”

“There you are!” Thorin came into the hall as well, accompanied by his nephews, and Dwalin stepped back. Great. Things about to become awkward. “I thought I had seen Nori’s face somewhere, and I have just remembered. He is the thief you were chasing years ago, isn’t him? Are you here to arrest him?”

A part of Nori’s brain was a little bit insulted by the definition -he had been far more than thief, after all; crime lord would be more appropriate, thank you very much-, but he was far more interested in Dwalin’s face. There was a combat going on there, and he sighed, loosing hope. He might have been ready to call him his boyfriend in front of some other members of his family -his brother, maybe-, but he doubted he did it with Thorin and his stepsons present. Still…

“He is the man I was chasing,” Dwalin admitted. Nori’s heart sank. Right. Back to being a dirty little secret, it seemed, at least for the time being. “But that’s not why I’m here. I came to look for him because… because he is my boyfriend.”

He had taken part in stage plays with far less theatrical collective gasps, but he was in no position to criticise; his own reaction might have been more discreet, but it was equally cliched. He had already discovered he still could blush; now he found out he wasn’t past having butterflies in his stomach. Dwalin reached for his hand, a bit hesitant, and Nori took it, intertwining their fingers. Goodness. They were doing this.

“Well, it’s cool that you have a boyfriend,” the youngest boy said. Kíli, of course. “But if this is the man you were chasing all those years, shouldn’t he be in prison? I thought you said he had been locked for the next decades.”

“Now, I think I can shed some light on this matter,” Mithrandir happily announced. “Nori had indeed been sentenced to a couple of decades in prison, but he had a pivotal role in an undercover mission that took place there, directed from the outside by Officer Longbeard. In exchange for the aid he provided, he was granted an international pardon and his crimes were forgiven.”

“Really?” Fíli’s eyes were full of interest. “Man, that’s awesome.”

“He makes it sound like I was James Bond,” Nori protested. “He was my cellmate in prison while he was undercover, and I saved his life a couple of times and helped him meet the right people a bit later, when he decided he could trust me enough to reveal his plan. That was all.”

“As I said, a pivotal role,” Mithrandir said.

Bilbo uttered a long-suffering sigh. It reminded of Dori, and he though that, while Frodo might be traumatized, her mother would actually enjoy meeting his older brother.

“Firecracker seller, my ass,” she remarked to Gandalf.

“My dear Bilbo, that’s what I make for a living. I never said that was my only occupation.”

“So that was… that was how you met each other again?” Thorin deduced. He still looked shocked, but Nori wouldn’t blame him. Actually, he was taking things rather well, considering. “I mean… When you truly got to know each other, beyond the chase and run of the previous years.”

“Aye.” Dwalin gripped Nori’s hand harder. “That’s how we fell in love.”

“So romantic,” Kíli declared, and Nori looked at Dwalin meaningfully. He had always told him the children would actually be alright with their relationship -better than their elder relatives, likely.

“But that was some time ago, wasn’t it?” Thorin frowned. “How long have you two been dating?”

He could feel Dwalin going tense, so he gripped his hand tighter.

“About three years.” The officer gulped. “Give or take.”

“Three years?” Thorin was obviously appalled by the notion. “And you didn’t tell us?”

“I had just divorced your sister! And the boys didn’t take it too well…”

“Aye, but that was years ago, Dwalin -we would have been glad to know you had found someone in the meantime,” Fíli protested. Nori refrained from rolling his eyes. Again, he had told him so.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d like it,” Dwalin replied. He was not looking at the kids, though -it was Thorin he was talking to. No wonder; his cousin’s opinion had always been of the utmost importance to him.

Thorin shook his head.

“I understand -but I wish you had told me.” He took a couple of steps forward and put a hand on Dwalin’s arm. “You are my cousin and best friend. If you are happy, that’s enough. It might not have been like that some years ago, before things changed, but since we are not trying to reclaim Erebor’s throne anymore…”

“Things changed?” To Nori’s surprise, that was Bilbo. She was looking at Thorin with what seemed like amazement, and he wondered again what might have happened between them, years ago. “What does that mean, things changed? And you are not trying to sit on Erebor’s throne anymore?”

Oh, whatever had happened had been a lot, because Thorin’s face reflected quite a lot of emotions in a moment -hurt, understanding, guilt and hope, all enveloped in grimace and a clearing of his throat.

“Aye, Bilbo. I renounced to my right to the throne about five years ago.” He seemed to hesitate. “I realized -I realized that it was not worth the happiness of those dear to me.”

Nori was very much interested in finding out what Bilbo’s answer to that was, but she never got the chance. Frodo opened the main door, came into the hall and look at them with a very disconcerted face.

“Uh… is everything alright?”

*

“So kind of you to let us crash into your wedding like this,” Fíli politely said, while his brother offered her a hand to help her down the hillside. Goodness, maybe they really were princes after all -even if not officially.

Princess! She had cousins who were princes!

“It’s not a problem, really. This is not a formal wedding, and the more the merrier.” She privately regretted her choice of words as soon as the last line left her mouth. In her case, more hadn’t meant merrier; she still had no idea how to tell two of her fathers that they were surplus.

Pippin and Merry had fully interrogated Bofur, and they had found nothing but a merry, intelligent man with endless curiosity and an undying will to help the underdogs. And he had been the first to accept her as a daughter, hadn’t he? With such a joy, too, once the initial shock had passed. Maybe he was the best choice.

But Arwen, Legolas and Gimli had been speaking with Nori to return in awe -and wouldn’t it be great to have a father who was part of the community, someone who at least could relate with her in that way? True, he had much darker parts in his story, but he seemed to have taken a good path. He was dating a police officer, and working in a honest job, wasn’t he? What was perhaps more important: he seemed ready to redeem himself.

While Thorin… Aragorn and Boromir had found him stern but kind, intelligent and interesting, and he came with the gift of an extended family, something Frodo had never got to experience since most of Bilbo’s family had all but rejected her when she got pregnant. She could have an aunt, cousins, uncles; so many options it made her dizzy. On the other hand, for all that Thorin might have renounced the legacy of his heritage, he must still be a somehow public figure -Fíli and Kíli had worriedly asked if there might be paparazzis in the wedding, as if that was normal for their circle. That was certainly not normal for Frodo, and she didn’t want it to become even remotely close to it.

She needed to find Sam and explain herself. Not only because she owed her as much, but because she truly was her better half -the one that knew how to act whenever she doubted. She needed her girlfriend, and she couldn’t wait to see her.

“There he is! Gimli!” Kíli shouted; her friend turned toward them and allowed the other boy to hug him, not looking particularly surprised. Frodo though he had a lot to explanations to give;  he had never mentioned to he was related to kings and prices. “Is that a cocktail? You can get alcohol in here?”

“You can -ask Boromir for them.” Gimli gestured towards the bar, where the aforementioned threw them a dubious look, as did Legolas and Thranduil, who were present too. Frodo waved a hand to let them know everything was alright. “But I really feel like you should leave them for me. If you are here, Uncle Thorin must be about to murder me.”

“Nah, it’s all settled,” Fíli promised, hugging him as well. Suddenly something hit Frodo: was Gimli her cousin too, then? Goodness, it was just too much to take into account, she couldn’t think in that right now. “Dwalin is here too, by the way, but he won’t be causing trouble to you either -apparently he’s got a boyfriend, and it’s a rather interesting one.”

“Dwalin? Really? Why aren’t we interrogating him right now?”

“We tried to, but Dwalin and Uncle looked like they were about to trash us, so we decided it was better to come find you and tell you the news. Mom will get everything out of them as soon as she returns, anyway. They can’t resist her.” Fíli shrugged. “In any case, it might be terrible convenient for you, since we hear you have been keeping secrets in that department, as well.”

“Aye, what about that! Is he here? We want to meet him!” Kíli said, practically bouncing.

“I am here,” Legolas announced with some steel in his voice. Frodo wondered if he was afraid of the boys’ reaction, and got ready to back him up if necessary. The cousins, however, merely turned towards him, and he returned their interested gaze. “So, Fíli and Kíli, I presume.”

“In the flesh!” Fíli went to him with a hand stretched; Legolas took it. Kíli opted for a pat in the back.

“So nice to meet you!”

“Uh… likewise,” Legolas said, clearly taken aback by this enthusiasm. He blushed a little, taking a sip from his drink, while Gimli groaned and pushed his cousins away.

“Do not crowd him, you twats. Mirkwooders aren’t so used to physical contact as we are.”

Kíli pouted.

“But Gimli, he is dating you! You must be giving him physical contact, are you not?”

Thanduil snorted at that.

“Believe me, he has.” They turned now towards her, and she arched her eyebrows and looked them up and down. “You are better behaved that I expected for Thorin Longbeard’s nephews, although not better dressed, unfortunately.”

“Uh… thank you?” Fíli ventured, eyeing her dubiously. “Do you know our uncle, Madame?”

“To our mutual misfortune, yes.” She took a sip from her own drink, in a gesture so similar to her own son that it made Frodo smile. There was no trace of blush in her face, though. “I am Thranduil Lasgalen. Pleased to meet you… so far.”

Both of them recognized the name, it was clear from their faces, but while Fíli’s expression seemed to harden, Kíli’s changed in order to harbour a huge grin.

“We have heard so much about you! But how comes none of our uncles told us you are incredibly beautiful?”

Fíli and Gimli groaned at that, while Legolas and Frodo shared a look and tried very hard not to snicker. Thranduil merely snorted again, although her lips curved in an amused smirk.

“Easy, boy. Does your mother know that you are out?”

“She does, but she won’t bother us. She is abroad,” he explained, dropping into a stool next to Thranduil’s. He didn’t seem at all deterred by her dismissive tone. “Any chance you let me buy you a drink?”

That made her laugh.

“You are cute, but you seem pretty young to be searching for that kind of fun. Are you even old enough to buy a drink?”

“I am!” He looked at his brother as if to check. “I am, right?”

Fíli sighed.

“Aye, Kíli, you can buy alcohol here at eighteen, so you are safe.” He went to the bar and gave Boromir a bill. “Get me something too, please. My family makes me want to get unconscious.”

Boromir laughed.

“Sure thing. Gimli?”

“Oh, nothing for me. I might get nauseous if I have to see my barely-of-age cousin flirting with my mother-in-law.”

Legolas and Thranduil were clearly served; Boromir turned towards Frodo, arching an eyebrow, and she shook her head.

“No, thanks. I came looking for Sam, actually.”

“To be expected.” He smiled and pointed at one of the sheds. “She was here before, but she went that way.”

All right, then; she had already arrived to the farm, punctual as ever. Frodo steeled herself and decided she could not procrastinate any longer; it was time she went to talk to her girlfriend.

“Thanks.” She cleared her throat and tried to sound menacing when she addressed the others. “All of you, please behave. This is my wedding, and I’ll rather not have any blood spilled.”

“Nor other body fluids, if possible,” Fíli muttered as she went by, which made her want to snicker again. Oh, she liked her cousins -possible cousins. What a mess. In fact, she also liked her possible fathers, the three of them. Couldn’t she keep them all?

She went to the sheds as instructed, and she found Sam there, moving some potato sacks. Working as ever, her girl. Frodo had always marvelled that Sam had been so insecure when they started dating –‘but Frodo, you are so smart, and well-spoken, and cute-, when she was the most capable, most dexterous person she had ever met, not to mention the most hard working and lovely good. Perfect, really.

“Hi, Sam,” she said; her girlfriend looked up at her and smiled.

“Hello, Frodo.” Then she really looked at her and frowned, worried. “Is everything alright?”

“Not, really, no -I need your help.”

“Of course.” Sam took her hand. “What’s wrong? What do you need?”

“I…” She sighed. “I made a mess, Sam.”

“I doubt that,” she tried to reassure her, caressing her knuckles.

“No, I really have. All my fathers are here for our wedding… and they all think they are giving me away…”

“All your fathers?” Sam looked at her as if she had gone crazy. “What are you talking about?”

And well, maybe she had gone crazy. It certainly looked crazy when she thought about it now.

“I read my mother’s diary,” she confessed. Eru, it felt good to get that out of her chest. “There were three men that could be my father, so I wrote to them. I invited them to our wedding.” Sam only looked at her, obvious astonished, but now that Frodo had gotten started she felt like she could not stop. Words kept falling out of her lips without any control on her part. “I though I would know who my father was the moment I saw him, but I didn’t! I can’t tell who of them is the one, nor even whom I would prefer him to be. And now my mom is going to find out I did this and probably kill me, and they’ll also hate me when they know, and…”

Sam let go of her hand to rub at her neck with a groan.

“Wait a minute, darling. You did all this… read your mother’s diary, and invited these guys and met them, without telling me?”

A stab of guilt and shame went through her.

“I though you would try to stop me,” she said, worrying her lip. She couldn’t quite read Sam’s face, and that worried her. “Look, I know…”

“Frodo.” Her girlfriend sighed, looking more disappointed than anything else. “How… we are getting married. Today! And you didn’t think you could trust me with this? You had to do this behind my back?”

“It’s not like that,” she protested. Sam didn’t even sound angry -she sounded hurt, which was way worse.

“It isn’t? Because it sure looks like it is!” Sam’s eyes widened, as is she had just thought of something. “Is this why you wanted this wedding? So you could go looking for your dad?”

That surprised her.

“What? No!”

“No?” Sam was frowning. “Because I really didn’t need this -I love you whether married or not. And I might want to take care of your mom’s farm, but I was more than willing to have a long distance relationship so you would not miss your chances…”

“Stop that! This has nothing to do with the doctorate!” She took a breath. “This is about knowing who I am! I wanted to get married knowing who I am.”

“And what on Middle-Earth made you believe that you needed your father dad for that?”

“I… damn it, Sam.” She took several quick breaths, fighting down tears. “We have always been together, all our lives. And I’m so glad we have -but I cannot even imagine being without you would be like. And before you ask, I don’t mean Minas Tirith!”

“No? Then what do you mean?”

“I mean… what if we end up fighting? What if we break out? And don’t say that’s impossible, because it could happen!”

“It could,” Sam conceded. “But I don’t think it’s likely. It’s like you said -we have spent our lives together. I know you, and you know me.”

“But that’s the point!” Frodo insisted. “There’s a part of me that even I don’t know. Sometimes I react in ways I cannot explain, sometimes I have wants and dreams that have nothing to do with my mom, our you, or anybody else that I have known my whole life. They are parts that I cannot always explain, not even to myself. What if they come from my dad? So I wanted… I wanted to see him. To know him. To imagine how I can be in a few years, for I look to my mother to envision some future traits of mine, but not all of them.” She took air. “Do you understand why I wanted to do this? Why, particularly, I wanted to do it before of the wedding?”

Sam remained silent for a moment, and Frodo awaited anxiously for her verdict. Once again, her girlfriend didn’t look angry, which was reassuring in itself -she had only seen Sam angry when the other person had properly deserved it-, but her silence was very unnerving.

“Frodo,” she began. “There’s always parts of use that we cannot understand, and they are usually parts that have nothing to do with our parents, whether we know the two of them or not. Knowing yourself… that doesn’t come from finding your father, but from finding yourself. And for that you need to live, which is… don’t be angry, but I have to mention it again - that’s why I wanted you to go to Minas Tirith instead of marrying me and staying here.”

“Sam, that’s… that’s not something you can decide for me,” she said, feeling her eyes filling with tears.

“Of course not.” Sam shook her head. “Not, that’s not what I… Frodo, I just worry that you might make a mistake.”

“Marrying you is a mistake?” Tears were falling now, and she didn’t have a handkerchief, did she? No, of course not. But Sam did; she handled it to her and Frodo wiped her face as well as she could.

“I hope not,” Sam whispered. “But apparently you don’t trust me as much as you should, love.” She caressed her face. “I do want to marry you. But think if you truly want to, alright? And I don’t need to do it right now; I can wait as much as you need. So remember it’s not too late to call this off, if you need to.”

*

“Frodo?” Bilbo sighed with relief. She had barely seen her daughter in the whole day, and when she had, Frodo had seemed distracted, stressed; definitely unwilling to share a word with her mother. Bilbo understood her mind might be elsewhere -she was getting married today, after all. But she hated it when she was closed off. “Well, there you are. Shouldn’t you be getting ready? Weren’t Pippin and Merry going to help you?”

She was alarmed when Frodo looked up and her eyes met -she had been crying, Bilbo was sure of it. But before she could ask her about it, her daughter asked:

“Will you help me?”

“Of course,” she said, a bit surprised that she even felt like she needed to ask. Of course she would help her. She always would, wouldn’t her? She was her mother.

Frodo hugged her at that; their bodies fit with well-practiced easiness, and as every time she held her in her arms, Bilbo felt somehow more alive than when she didn’t. She returned the embrace with a surge of that well known sadness -her baby kept on growing, and for all that she would always be her child, she was an adult now.

Ah, well. Even if it was just for this afternoon, she would still enjoy taking care of her, and she would try to capture every minute it. Sometimes she wished that she could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time. As that could not be, she would at least enjoy a proper goodbye.

Chapter Text

Bilbo knew she might not be impartial, but if you asked her, Frodo was simply radiant in her wedding dress.

“The crown of flowers was a good idea,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. She could not believe this was truly happening. Her daughter was getting married!

“I rather like it,” Frodo agreed, taking a look at her image in the mirror of her room. “I’ll have to thank Arwen; she was the one who did it.”

“I know,” she patiently said. “You told me, don’t you remember?”

“I forgot,” Frodo replied. That didn’t particularly surprise Bilbo, though -she had been forgetful and nervous for the last days.

She imagined why this might be, and pondered, not for the first time, whether she should talk about it. They had had this discussion about a hundred times; she didn’t believe the outcome was going to be different today, and the last thing she wanted was fighting with Frodo in such a day. But on the other hand, when was she going to, if she didn’t take the chance? Maybe Frodo wouldn’t want to fight today, either -maybe she would finally listen instead of getting angry or disappearing.

“Did you speak with Arwen’s father, too?” she asked, as casually as she could manage. Frodo thew her a sidelong glance, as if suspicious, but she didn’t react in any other visible way.

“Yes, I did,” she calmly replied. She sat down in her bed and bent to take one of her shoes. “Elrond was as kind as ever. You know we always got along.”

“Of course you do. You have so much in common,” she pointed out. Frodo’s look told her she knew what she was doing.

“We both love you, for instance,” she replied, looking down at the shoes.

“Yes, yes, that you do.” She took air. “Frodo, I know I have said this before, but-”

“Then don’t,” her daughter replied, bucking down her shoe with unnecessary force.

“I have to! I cannot keep silent, girl -do you really think you are doing the right thing?”

“Mom, please, not today,” Frodo said in a tired tone. “I already had a discussion with Sam, and I…”

“With Sam?” She was rather surprised. It wasn’t that they had never fought, of course, but it wasn’t usual. The only think that kept on appearing was… “Why? Because she thinks the same than I do, that you should not remain here?”

“Well, yes!” Frodo looked up at her, now clearly annoyed. “Among other things. Why can’t you both understand that it’s my life?”

“Because we love you too much to see you wasting opportunities!” Damn, she had not meant to raise her voice. “Frodo, the farm will be here when you come back. Sam will too. The chance to follow your dreams… it might not. I should know, don’t you think?”

“Of course I know!” To her surprise, now her daughter sounded terribly close to tears. Bilbo immediately knelt down and tried to take her chin in her hand, but Frodo battled it away. “Do not treat me like a child. Don’t you see that’s what I’m trying to do? Don’t you understand that I know you had to sacrifice your whole life because of me and I’m trying to compensate that?”

“Sacrifice my life? Compensate?” Oh, she was incredulous. She finally managed to get Frodo’s face between her hands and made her look into her eyes. How could such a bright girl be so wrong? “Darling, don’t you ever think that. It is true that your existence changed my dreams and expectations -how could it not? But I do not feel I sacrificed my life. As a matter of fact, I feel like a new life was given to me when you were born -a new opportunity I had never dreamed of.” She tried to make her understand. “You became my dream. You, living your life to the most -that’s what I dream off now.”

“But what about you, mom? Am I supposed to leave you here, working to the bone and taking care of everything, while I go to live away and enjoy? How’s that fair?”

Oh, Valar, her eyes -they were so huge and so wet, as if all the tears in the worlds were in them.

“You cannot carry my life in your shoulders, Frodo.” She sighed. “If I needed you, I would ask you to come back, I promise. But for now, I can manage. Besides, it is not as if you couldn’t do anything from afar -there’s the website to take care off, remember?”

She snorted in a rather wet way.

“I certainly couldn’t leave it in your hands or Sam’s. Yavanna only knows what you would do with it.”

“It would be a catastrophe,” Bilbo easily admitted. She caressed Frodo’s temples. “You are right when you say it’s your choice. But please, do not think that having you here would me make in any way happier than knowing you are doing what you were born to be, or that you somehow owe me because I took the decision to have you. You owe me only your love, and that I know I have.”

Frodo looked at her intently, as if she were trying to discern whether she was saying the truth. Bilbo returned the look, trying to appear as honest as possible. Truly, how could she see what was so obvious?

“Frodo?” Pippin’s voice came trough the door, followed by the sound of knuckles against the door. That probably meant Merry was with her -she never remembered to knock before she came into a room. “Are you ready? We should be going.”

“Yes! Yes, I’m ready.” Frodo hastily wiped away her tears and composed a smile that looked honest enough to quiet Bilbo’s mind. Perhaps she wouldn’t listen to her, but at least what she was about to do wouldn’t make her unhappy. “Let’s get up, mom. I don’t want to be late to my own wedding.”

Well, then. If that was what she wanted, Bilbo would be there for her -how could she not?

*

Seeing Frodo and Bilbo in the hillside that led to the tent the marriage would take place in made his heart ache. They were glorious -not only beautiful, although only that made him want to cry of purely aesthetical appreciation. But no, they were more than that. Bilbo had been one of the most surprising people he had ever known within minutes of making her acquaintance, and Frodo was so funny, so bright, so perfect. Looking at them made him regret all the time he had wasted -all those years he could have spent with them, if he hadn’t been an idiot, and then a coward and too proud for his own good.

“Bilbo,” he said, approaching them. “May I have a word?”

Frodo looked at her with questioning eyes, but Bilbo nodded. She gently untangled her fingers with those of her daughter and kissed her forehead.

“Go, do not worry. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

“Alright. I’ll wait for you,” she said with a smile and peck to her mother’s cheek. Mahal, his daughter was so cute, really. Such a lovely girl.

He saw her walk and get reunited with some of her friends at the entrance of the tent; Gimli was among them, kissing and lifting her up in the air as she arrived. She looked so happy, and he felt a stupid need to smile because of her happiness.

“Well?” Bilbo asked, seemingly impatient. “What did you want?”

Thorin steered himself.

“I need to speak to you about who is giving Frodo away,” he tried to explain, but Bilbo only arched her eyebrows.

“That would be me,” she coldly replied.

“His dad…”

“He isn’t here,” Bilbo cut him off. Thorin felt annoyed, but he kept on going. She had a right to be angry with him, but this was important.

“It’s what she wants,” he insisted. “She told me she wants her father here. What if her father wants that too?”

Bilbo stared at him intently, as if she was suddenly nervous. She must suspect that he knew, surely; or at least that he thought it possible. But she shook her head.

“Don’t.”

“Bilbo, I know that we didn’t part in the friendliest terms, but surely…”

“Thorin, don’t do this now,” she begged. “I can’t hear this know.”

“But Bilbo, we need to. This… we…”

She shook her head again, her eyes so bright he suspected there were tears in them.

“I don’t want to talk about things we’ve been through,” she said. “Now it’s history.”

“Bilbo…”

“No. Nothing more to say.” She cleared her throat. “We’ll speak later… maybe. Now I must go and see my daughter getting married.”

*

“Mom, finally!” Frodo said when she reached the entrance of the tent. She looked behind her with worry, but Bilbo waved her hand in dismissal.

“Now I’m here, dear.” She offered her arm to Frodo and made a sign to Elrond, that stood at the other side of the tent, ready to officiate. “Come on, let’s do this.”

“Let’s,” Frodo whispered, and she took her arm.

The band began to play as they marched down the aisle and made their way towards Sam, who waited next to her dad and Elrond. Bilbo felt her heart flutter when she saw the way Sam was looking at Frodo -that incredulous joy, like she couldn’t believe she got to marry her. Damn, that girl really loved her daughter, and for that she felt incredibly glad. There was no one, no one in this world that would be worth of Frodo, but Sam might come close to it.

She was so glad her daughter would have someone by her side. She wouldn’t change what she had been given for the world; each second spent next to Frodo had been a gift, even if she had been exhausted and at her wit’s end so many times, taking care of so many things nearly on her own. But Frodo would have so much more -she would go through life with a companion by her side, and for that she felt grateful.

Thorin’s words still echoed in her mind, damn him, and what was worse, they echoed in her heart. This wasn’t the time for the discussion he wanted to have, that was clear, but she wanted it. The Valar knew that she wanted to talk to him, to sort out… everything. As for what he had said about Frodo wanting her father there, well, she partially believed him -the girl had always worried about that absence in her life-, but she had asked her mom to give her away, and like so many times before, she would have to be enough for her.

“I love you,” she whispered at her daughter when they reached Sam. Frodo took her girlfriend’s hand and drew closer to her, and that was alright, that was as it should be -but she wanted those last words, and she wanted the look, the smile her daughter gave her at them. She sat at the front row with a warmed heart.

“I want to welcome those who are present here,” Elrond said, smiling at them all. Gandalf had offered to officiate the ceremony, too, but privately, Bilbo was glad that Frodo had picked up Rivendel University’s dean offer. Elrond would do this so well. “We are here to celebrate the union of Frodo and Sam, with all their friends and family.” Elrond smiled at her. “I want to welcome specially Bilbo, our host in this beautiful farm, an old friend of mine and who’s here to represent Frodo’s family. We have all gathered to…”

Right. Right. She had to do this.

To Elrond’s surprise, she stood up and motioned at him so he would stop talking.

“And welcome too to Frodo’s dad,” she said. Frodo turned towards her, astonished, and Bilbo closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was to come. “I have to tell you; he is here.”

“I know,” Frodo replied; Bilbo’s eyes opened in astonishment. “I invited him.”

Somewhere in the rows of chairs, by the edge of her vision, she saw Bofur, Nori and Throin standing up, but she was more interested in Frodo’s face and her own confusion.

“But you couldn’t have,” she replied, bewildered. “I don’t know which one it is.” That caused some turmoil; there was a tidal wave of whispers and exhalations, and Bilbo was suddenly very glad that none of her relatives had been invited, except for Pippin and Merry. Then she caught up. “Yavanna!” she yelled. “That’s why they are here!”

“I… yes? I’m sorry,” Frodo said with an apologetical expression.

The three men sat down again, the cowards. Bilbo wished she could do the same, but she was stuck there, in front of all the guests, receiving this terrible impact in her celiac plexus alone. Typical.

Her daughter took her hands.

“Please, please, will you forgive me?”

“I don’t know, she admitted, because there was not denying she was shocked, and perhaps a little hurt. Then empathy won. “Can you forgive me?”

“What?” Frodo looked astonished. “Whatever for? I don’t care if you slept with hundreds of men! You are my mom, and I love you so much I can’t express it.”

“Oh, Frodo,” she said, feeling tears prickling at her eyes. She hugged Frodo, and her daughter returned the embrace tightly. “I love you so much,” she muttered when they separated, giving her a peck in the cheek. “And I’d have known that I haven’t slept with hundreds of men,” she added, just for the record, as she stepped back and sat down again.

Gandalf put an arm around her shoulders while Thranduil kissed her cheek. In front of her, Elrond arched his eyebrows, as if he wondered what to do next.

“If you’ll forgive me, I must say I’m rather confused.” Thorin’s voice intervened. His deep rumble easily dominated the tent, and all the guest turned to look at him when he got up and went towards Frodo and Sam. “Frodo might be my daughter, but she also might be Bofur’s, or Nori’s?”

Oh, of course. There were more people involved in this besides Frodo and her, and some of them were always anxious to cause a scene.

“Yes. Yes, that’s right.” She got up again, suddenly angry at him. “And don’t dare get self-righteous at me, because you have no one but yourself to blame! Or isn’t it true that you left me to go and marry somebody else?”

“Aye, it’s true,” he acknowledged. Elrond’s brows went all the way up his ample front. “As you know, I was engaged, and my mother’s dying wish was that I married someone who would help us recover Erebor’s throne.” He paused. “But in the end, I didn’t do ti.”

“What?” she asked, surprised. She had always assumed he had; he had gone, he hadn’t returned, and…

“I told my fiancée I couldn’t do this, that I was in love with someone else. I came back looking for you because I was crazy enough to think that you would be waiting for me. Only that when I arrived, I heard you had jumped in some guy’s van and went to Goblintown.”

A couple of rows from them, Bofur coughed self-consciously. Bilbo knew how he felt.

“I might have,” she mumbled.

“And I was too proud to wait for you and see if you were ready to forgive me. I though that, if you didn’t want me enough to wait for me, I didn’t want you either.” He looked down. “I was wrong, by the way. I kept on wanting you.”

There was a frozen, stunned silence after that, until Nori’s chair squeaked when he got up.

“Can I intervene?” he asked, going towards them. Bilbo braced herself for disaster. She didn’t want any more of her intimacy exposed to the guests, if possible.

“Nori, I don’t think that…”

“Look, I just wanted to say that it would be great to have even a third of Frodo.” He put a hand in the girl’s shoulder. “She is more than I deserve, and probably more than any of us deserves. If I am allowed to have as much, I would be honoured.”

“I agree with Nori,” Bofur chipped in, also going towards Frodo. “We can run tests and everything if you want, but if the others agree, I’ll be more than happy to have a third of this wonderful girl.”

To Bilbo’s surprise, Thorin nodded energetically.

“Aye,” he said. “Me too.”

Bilbo felt tears pricking in her eyes again, so she just threw her hands at the air and sat down on her char, overwhelmed. At least Frodo seemed delighted as she hugged the three  men that had proclaimed their with to have her as daughter, so she guessed everything was fine.

“Alright,” Elrond said, looking at them as if assessing. “Well then, I guess I’ll amend my previous comment and add these three men to Frodo’s family.” There was a rumble of laughter among the guests. Bilbo smiled weakly, grateful that he could rein the situation back. “Now that this is settled, let’s proceed with the wedding. Dearly beloved…”

“Wait,” Frodo suddenly said. Her mother blinked, astonished, and found her daughter had taken Sam’s hands and was looking at her girlfriend with a huge smile. “You know, I have no clue which one of them is my dad, but I don’t care. You were right, it’s not them that I need to find out who I am, but myself. And for that, I need to live.” She gripped Sam’s hands tighter. “Let’s not get married yet. Let’s see how it goes when I go to Minas Tirith, and if we can stand the distance, then we’ll marry.” She turned towards Elrond, as if something had crossed her mind. “That is… if I still can…”

The dean rolled his eyes while the audience gasped.

“Yes, Frodo, I still can arrange it for you to go.”

“Good.” She turned towards Sam again. “You will wait for me, won’t you?”

“Forever,” Sam replied. She took Frodo’s face in her hands and kissed her. Bilbo’s heart danced at the sight, not to mention her daughter’s choice. It was such a relief knowing that she would at least see it went for her in her doctorate. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She kissed her back and giggled. “Is it back luck if I still throw the bouquet now?”

“Throw it towards me!” Thranduil offered. The audience turned towards her. “I mean, we all now I’ll likely get married and then divorce again anyway.”

They all laughed as Frodo threw the flowers and the other woman took them. Elrond massaged his forehead with the look of someone deeply tired.

“So, I assume the wedding is cancelled?”

“I imagine it is” Bilbo said, a bit dizzy.

“Hang on!” To everybody’s surprise Thorin’s cousin, Dwalin, got up and approached Nori. “Why waste a good wedding?” he asked offering his hand to his boyfriend. Nori’s eyes went wide.

“Holy fuck. Really?”

Everyone gasped when Dwalin got down on one knee.

“Say I do,” the giant man asked in a tone so soft Bilbo’s insides melt. Then his gentle smile turned into a smirk. “Besides, this might be our only chance of doing this without Dori and Balin.”

Nori laughed.

“Say no more. I do,” he declared, putting his hand in Dwalin’s.

“Kíli, please, tell me you have recorded this,” one of Thorin’s nephews said in a fervent and rather audible whisper.

“Of course I have!”

“I’ll have your cell phones hacked if you don’t delete the videos, lads,” Dwalin declared without moving a muscle. He did well, because far more interesting things for him were happening; Nori and bent down to kiss him.

“Are you sure of this?”

“I am. I want you to stay in my life, and I want to make you feel like I want you there.” Dwalin returned the kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulled Dwalin up and hugged him, and this time, Bilbo’s tears did come down.

*

“Would you mind having some company?”

Bilbo turned towards Thorin without any real surprise.

“No, I wouldn’t,” she said. No, she wasn’t surprised that he had gone looking for her; after his previous confession, she guessed they had things to discuss, after all. But she certainly was nervous about it. Was this a second chance?

“The party went well,” Thorin remarked, pointing with the chin at the yard, where their families and friends were still dancing and drinking. Bilbo smiled, feeling his heart warming at the sight. She felt like she might come to regret the day Pippin and Merry met Thorin’s nephews, but that was a worry for another day.

“Of course it went well. If there’s something I know how to do, it’s organizing a party.”

Thorin laughed, warm and low. Bilbo’s insides did funny things at the sound. They always had.

“There’s many things you know how to do,” he affectionately declared. “You have always been very resourceful.” Bilbo was still trying to come up with an answer when he suddenly said: “This song always makes me think of you.”

“Dancing queen?” She blushed and blessed the darkness that covered that fact. “I am neither young nor sweet, not to mention seventeen.”

“Yet it reminds me of you.” He offered her his hand. “Would you dance?”

She hesitated, but the temptation was too strong.

“Well, why not. Night is young and the music’s high.” She put her hand on his and allowed him to drag her towards him.

His hair and clothes might have changed, and his face showed signs of age that weren’t there when she had first met him, all those years ago. But his smell was still the same -rich, musky, clean-, and his height and width hadn’t changed. She fit so perfectly in his arms, and when he put a hand on her waist and they stared moving with the music, she felt like they were again their young selves -carefree, full of life, in love.

“Do you still hate me?” he suddenly asked.

“I never hated you,” she replied. His silence was deeply sceptical, so she admitted: “Well, perhaps a little. I just… when I knew you were betrothed, I thought all the time we had spent together was a lie. I thought that you had never really loved me.”

“I did feel like I was lying to you.” She tensed upon hearing those words, but he kept on going. “But not because I didn’t love you, but because I wasn’t telling you who I was. The love was never a lie, that I can swear.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, though?” She understood he had been traveling incognito through Arda, enjoying the freedom of a summer that would be the last in terms of anonymity; his family had expected him to get married and start claiming the throne next fall. He couldn’t have told her who he was when they first met, but as weeks had passed, surely he should have let her know.

“You knew me as I was,” he explained. “And you liked me. Not as Thorin Longbeard, heir of Erebor, but as myself.”

“Oh, I know just who you are,” she said with a smile. “Or I knew you.”

“You’ll see I’m much the same,” he replied. Bilbo could hear the smile in his voice. “A bit aged, and I would like to thing that a little wiser, but much the same.” His hands gripped her tighter. “Have you forgiven me, then? For real?”

“Yes, I have. I feel neither you nor I'm to blame when all is said and done.”

“You were never to blame,” he protested.

“You didn’t think the same when you came here to find me gone,” she reminded him, and Thorin sighed.

“Aye, well. As I said, I would like to thing I’m a little wiser, now.” His smile could be heard again in his voice. “How could I ever let you go?”

Bilbo felt a lump in her throat, and struggled to swallow it.

“I could ask myself the same. Now that I know that if I had waited for you just a few days…”

“You had no reason to wait for me. Besides, if you hadn’t gone, maybe we wouldn’t have our daughter.”

It felt weird to hear him say that, our daughter -Frodo had always been her daughter, and no one else’s-, but it warmed her heart. She thought things had gone really well, in the end; Frodo now had three more people to love and take care of her, and that was all she could ever hope for.

“Maybe we wouldn’t,” she agreed. “You are right.”

The song ended, but they kept on dancing. Bilbo didn’t know which one it was; it sounded like one of the modern things Frodo liked listening to. She didn’t care, and it didn’t look like he did, either. Perhaps he was afraid of what would happen when they stepped away, afraid that the magic of this moment would end and they would pull apart in mind and heart, and not just in bodies.

“Will you return to Erebor?” she whispered when she felt brave enough to ask.

“I don’t know. I don’t really have to, know.” He cleared his throat. “I can run the study from anywhere, really, and the boys are grown -I was around when their father died, even after my sister married Dwalin, but now…”

“They are grown-up,” Bilbo finished for him. “Like Frodo.”

“Aye, like Frodo.” He hesitated. “Bilbo, if… I’m not asking for anything, really; it’s enough that you have forgiven me. But if you put me to the test, if you let me try… If you feel the same that I do…”

“Oh, Thorin,” she laughed, a bit breathless. “If I feel the same that you do? I can't conceal it. Don't you see, can't you feel it? I love you. That’s no guarantee, mind you, this might all fall apart. But of course I love.”

“Thank the Valar,” he mumbled. Their dance turned into a hug, but Bilbo didn’t regret it. She had spent so long wishing to have his arms around her, even during the years she was angry at him. “I would be happy, knowing my fate is to be with you.”

“Me too,” she sighed. She hadn’t felt this happy in a very long time.

Then he bent and kissed her, and she decided she could be even happier, apparently.