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It was rather depressing, Dwalin thought, to watch his King’s Consort go mad. Though he was sure it was nothing like what Thorin himself was experiencing.
Two years ago, practically to the week, Bilbo had discovered the abandoned garden on the southern facing slope of the Lonely Mountain, during a Kingdom wide effort towards cleaning and repairing the infrastructure of Erebor. Originally, the cozy half acre garden was the passion project of the consort to Thrór, Glova, Thorin’s grandmother.
Glova had what could only be described as a reverence to Snowbells, a lavender colored Primula. The adoration for the flower grew from its natural ability to thrive on the mountain. And because its shape resembled what she referred to as a farmer’s hat.
Due to Thrór’s love for his wife, he had hired gardeners and landscapers to help his wife turn a small meadow nestled on the mountain into a beloved and gorgeous garden for her and her children to enjoy in the warmer months.
Bilbo had thought it such a shame for something that was so loved to be left to rot and become overgrown with ugly, brown weeds. When he had proposed his restoration project to his fiance, Thorin had almost wept at his hobbits nature. He was sure if his late grandfather was alive today, Thrór would first throw a conniption fit at his grandson marrying a halfling of all things, before eventually growing to love Bilbo, passed purely on his dedication to bringing life to his beloved wife’s passion.
When the garden was cleared of all the dead and ugly plants, Bilbo was first able to bring back the willowy, green grass to the garden. It was long and soft, and Bilbo spent his breaks laying in the grass relaxing. After the first of the long list of flora was reintroduced to the garden, his husband-to-be gave Bilbo an early wedding gift- an assortment of seeds and seedlings that thrived in high elevation climates. There were even Fire Lily seeds that must have been in transit for months before reaching Bilbo’s hands.
For all his calloused exterior, Thorin was truly a romantic at heart (Bilbo knew exactly how to repay him his thoughtful gifts). As the first of the flowers began sprouting from the ground, the couple had decided to hold their wedding reception in Glova’s garden, a divergence from tradition, but one that held such symbolic meaning to it that even traditionalists would agree it was appropriate.
Besides honoring Thorin’s late grandparents, the garden did well to honor his halfling’s culture and traditions. All hobbit weddings were held surrounded by nature and Yavanna’s gifts. While he understood the necessity behind their marriage ceremony being as traditional as any other dwarven wedding- that is one of the burdens Bilbo must bear if he is to become a King’s Consort- he still put his furry foot down on two things.
First, he demanded a hobbit’s ale to be present. Men’s ale didn’t quite taste right and damn it, he wanted his favorite drink at his wedding. Second, he demanded that his new home honor his first. He couldn’t have a hobbit wedding, but Bilbo would have a hobbit reception. Complete with hobbit ale, fireworks, and the planting of the couple’s Child’s Tree, as was tradition.
Thorin understood the ale and the fireworks, of course, but expressed interest in a Child’s Tree. As Bilbo explained, Thorin grew sullen.
“It is a tree in every couple’s yard. Doesn’t much matter what type of tree, just that it is strong and the couple picks the seed together. The pair plant it during their reception and it is where their children will be born. Yavanna herself passed this ritual to us. That is what the empty space in the middle of the garden is for, love. Just for our tree.”
Thorin would, of course, trade his halfling for no other being in Middle Earth, nor would he want anything about his One change. However, he would mourn the opportunity for the two of them to make their own children. They could, of course, adopt or even find a strong lass to carry some pebbles for them, but it would not be the same. The children, though undoubtedly will be spoiled and loved beyond repair, would not be made of the two of them. They would not have both Bilbo and Thorin within their blood. In a perfect world Dis would be able to surrogate Bilbo’s child, then at least Thorin would share some familial qualities with their child, but pregnancy was too rough on his beloved sister, and Thorin would never even think to ask, knowing she would agree in spite of her health.
Thorin steadfastly agreed to the Child Tree. He thought it a beautiful tradition, and something small that would make his One happy. Even if he thought an oak seed Bilbo had insisted on would not be able to grow in such a climate, Bilbo pushed forward.
“Yavanna does not let Child’s Trees die until they are ready to, love.” Bilbo had replied, shaking his head as if he was speaking to a child rather than the grown dwarf he was to marry.
The night before their wedding, Bilbo had begun the first half of the ritual, by bringing the oak seed found at Beorn’s home as well as some fruity smelling purple tea for just the two of them. They had sat alone for hours, speaking of the wedding and the plethora of small squabbles and dramas that seemed to swarm their entire engagement. They drank the tea through the night- Thorin found he quite liked it- and once it was finished, Bilbo took him by the hands and sat him on the plush rug in front of his grand fireplace. The seed was placed between them as they held hands.
“How many children do you wish for?”
“Well, before I meet you, I expected one.”
His fiance giggled, “That wasn’t what I asked, Thorin. If you could pray for children from Mahal, and knew they would be given to you, how many would you wish for?”
“Nine.”
Bilbo guffawed and asked why.
“My parents were given a miracle with three pebbles, you know of my people’s difficulty with bringing children into the world. We struggled for food, shelter, and safety. That struggle eventually took my mother, father and my brother from us. Now that I know my family would not wish for anything, that I can provide whatever we may need, I would want for my family to be as bountiful and full as possible. I would like for five girls and four boys, so there is an even balance. And only nine, as ten children would obviously be too many.”
Bilbo had tears in his eyes, and Thorin drew his hand away to clean it from his soft face.
“Well, I suppose I can deal with nine children.”
They married the next morning, and by nightfall, their Child’s Tree was planted.
________________________
Thorin had, at first, believed the tree to be benign. A symbol for Bilbo to remind him of home, but as that first year passed, Thorin believed it to be doing more harm than good to his husband. As Bilbo had said, Yavanna had not let that tree die, in fact, she seemed to encourage its growth and before their first anniversary it towered over even Gandolf’s head. If Yavanna would not let the tree die, Thorin was unsure why Bilbo would need to work himself to the bone to care for the oak. He coddled the seedling like it was made of glass, taking careful consideration to tend to the surrounding ground, constructing blockades to break up the fierce winds that occasionally worked its way up the mountain slopes, and even sat watch when the temperature got too low with a warming fire.
Thankfully, as the tree quickly grew, it only took a year for Bilbo to feel comfortable enough not to diligently guard the seedling. The oak tree grew to the size in twelve months what most trees would grow to in twelve years. Despite removing himself from harm’s way, Bilbo’s mental state seemed to fade, and it broke Thorin’s heart.
On the night of their first marriage anniversary, was when Bilbo’s madness began. They celebrated on the bench Thorin had specially built to sit under the Child’s Tree when Bilbo first spoke of something that alarmed Thorin.
“What do you think the first two will be, Thorin?”
“What?”
“You see?” His husband pointed to small acorns budding from the branches of the trees.
“We will have our first faunts this time next year. What do you think we will have? One boy, one girl? Though statistically, we are likely to have two girls.”
“Bilbo, you are not making sense.”
“I just mean that if we are to have 5 girls and 4 boys, we are more likely to have two girls first. It is simple maths, love.”
Thorin had cut their celebrations short by bringing his One to their chambers to lie down, as he obviously had a fever or some physical sickness causing him to hallucinate. Unfortunately, Óin had found no evidence for any ailment beyond Bilbo’s inane ramblings. The medic suggested sending out for specialists as it was clearly Óin’s inexperience with hobbits that led to no found illness.
Bilbo was quite peeved at being treated as a lunatic, but Thorin could sooth his offense after he knew his One was healthy. Bilbo continued talking of their magical tree children as Thorin brought in dwarfs that specialized in the mind, the brain, and even the mystical arts over the following months. Damned as he tried to reach the wizard, Gandolf seemed to have dropped off the face of the Earth and could not be reached no matter how many ravens Thorin sent out. He even sought the advice of men and, damn, even elfs. It wasn’t until a stray hobbit merchant made their way to Dale did something change. Nori happened to spy on the merchant selling specialty made hobbit blankets while visiting the market. He had bribed the hobbit to come with him to Erebor with a hefty wage, hoping against everything that the random halfling had come across these symptoms before and knew of some cure.
Thorin’s joy was rapidly raised as the hobbit had said “Of course, I have heard of this-”
And then it plummeted into the ground as he continued “-it’s how my little ones were born. It's how all of us hobbits bring our children to the world.”
Ah, so the whole species was insane.
Óin, coming to the same realization as Thorin, asked if any Child’s Tree had ever harmed hobbits. The hobbits might be crazed, but they could still gather information by interrogating the halfling
“Ah, I suppose it could, though I haven’t heard of such a case. If it were to fall over and land on someone then it's quite possible, but I wouldn’t worry about that, they tend to be quite sturdy. When I was a wee faunt I was climbing my parent’s and fell off. Sprained my ankle, but that was more my fault than the tree’s.”
Bilbo had played host to the hobbit, Melvin, that Nori had essentially kidnapped, and paid more than the asking price for two of his blankets to make up for the inconvience. Blankets from the Shire were soft and pillowy as they were made from sheep’s wool- perfect gifts for their newborns.
Melvin was sent packing the following morning, and with it another shred of Thorin’s hope. The following week a letter from Gandalf had arrived, though it gave Thorin little consolation as he wasn’t to arrive until their second anniversary celebration. Bilbo had sat him down with a stern look and presented a deal to his husband.
“I am quite done with this sulking and mother henning, Thorin. We are making a promise to each other right now. You are going to stop presenting me to every healer you can find, and treat me normally until our anniversary. That is when our firstborns will arrive and you will beg for my forgiveness. If you are somehow proven right, that I am crazy, then you can have Gandalf poke and prod me to your heart’s content, and you can even get rid of the tree- but not a second before!”
Thorin agreed, just to make his One happy, while secretly sending out word to just about every dwarven community in existence for a list of their best healers.
Until their anniversary, the Company and family had provided the couple with emotional support when Thorin could not muster it. In trying to play along with Bilbo, Dis had managed to find the nursery items used for their father and uncles and let Bilbo set up a nursery. Bofur had begun making sets of toys for both a boy and a girl, and Glóin’s wife Admina, had begun sewing clothing for the make believe children. Bilbo had even drawn up plans for a damned ‘faunt net’ as he called it. A ridiculous looking tripod held a small hammock fitted with pillows and bedding up to the acorns, it was made to gently bring the hammock down to a hobbit’s level so no one had to risk injury using ladders. The hammock was also a contingency plan to catch the children from their buds if they were to hatch early and when no one was present.
That was annoying as well, the tree was malformed or sick, as the two budding acorns Bilbo first latched onto as their newborns were growing misshapen, and ballooned outwards much like a ball, his poor husband was interpreting this freak of nature as proof of their fake children.
Thorin would occasionally wonder if encouraging his husband’s fantasies would worsen his illness, but he could not deny that it gave Bilbo a truly captivating smile and gave him some temporary warmth in his heart.
_____________________
Their anniversary was meant to be a joyful occasion, but Thorin spent the entire day pacing the halls of Erebor waiting for Gandalf to appear. Bilbo had gathered volunteers to decorate the garden for the arrival of their fantastical babies, complete with finger foods and lemonade. Dis had made the initiative to only invite Company members and family, as to lessen the amount of witnesses to Bilbo’s madness coming to a head. Though, that wasn’t the reasoning she gave Bilbo.
Kili, the traitor, seemed to have caught his uncle’s madness, completely believing in Bilbo with no shred of shame. He had found streamers and confetti to decorate the ground around the cribs. Bilbo had instructed the cribs to be brought out to the gardens until the babies were born, as he said the sun would warm their beds and keep them comfortable. He had also instructed a cot to be brought to the gardens for the party. Thorin had asked what it was for-
“That's for you, love.”
Thorin had no idea what he meant by that.
But there he was, a cup of lemonade in his hand, Dwalin to his right, as they stood in the mourning around that damned tree. The minute Gandalf was here, Dwalin had instructions to take an ax to the cursed hunk of wood.
Bilbo had proudly declared that the children were to be born at the same time of day Thorin and Bilbo planted it two years ago during their reception, though Thorin had no way of remembering when exactly that was, beyonding being in the afternoon. He could not remember much from that perfect day, it seemed so long ago. So much had changed.
Bilbo had taken a break from playing the perfect party host to sit under the Child’s Tree, an easy and loving smile adorning his face. Thorin had joined him, he did not know how his husband would react to his delusions being proved wrong, or how he would react to the Child’s Tree being removed from the garden, so he wanted to play pretend with his husband and act as if everything was going to be just fine. They could enjoy this while it lasted.
“Thorin.”
He made a noncommitted sound in response to his husband while he drank his lemonade.
“I want you to know that despite your stubbornness and lack of faith in me, I forgive you, and I love you more than anything. And that I told you so.”
Without another word, his One stood, swept at his shirt to rid himself of crumbs, and turned to face the now watermelon sized acorns hanging from the tree in wait. Thorin would have answered, but it was that moment that Gandalf entered the garden with as much fanfare as was expected. The old wizard looked just the same as the day of their wedding, but came bearing two carefully wrapped gifts. Thorin had practically sprinted across the garden, signaling Dwalin to follow.
Gandalf seemed to meet him halfway, as Dwalin marched past the pair to grab the carefully hidden ax.
“Congratulations Thorin!”
And the wizard continued past him, ignoring him completely to join Bilbo at the trunk of the tree.
It didn’t matter what Thorin would say, nothing would remove his attention from his old friend.
“Damn you wizard!”
Nothing.
Dwalin had returned, carefully holding his ax behind his back, waiting for Thorin’s word.
A quiet rage grew in him, Gandalf was his last resort in not only making Bilbo realize something was wrong, but healing his beloved husband’s mind. Any semblance of keeping his One’s deal or pretending that things were okay was practically chucked off the side of the Lonely Mountain. He marched to the Child’s Tree and stood between the trunk and his husband and the wizard, forcibly distancing his One from the very thing likely causing his affliction.
“That is enough! I cannot allow this to continue any longer. Gandalf, my husband has lost his sanity, you are here to heal him, not to pretend that this damned tree is going to be gifting us children. If you are going to encourage Bilbo further into his sickness, then I am demanding you leave this instant!”
The party came to a stand still. For several months, every but Kili and Bilbo had spoken of the supposed children and Bilbo’s mental state in a very gentle manner. They took great pains in not directly referring to the ‘situation’ as many called it. To hear their King forgo any niceties concerning his dear husband was alarming.
As the universe so enjoys proving Thorin a fool, a sharp and distressed cry broke the party’s stunned silence. The annoyed twist that graced Bilbo’s face during Thorin’s rant vanished in place of a hopeful curiosity. Thorin, in his confusion, turned and moved to his One’s side to gaze at the acorns, one cracked open, pieces of the hard casing fell to the ground as something hefty landed in the carefully placed net. The faunt net had blocked Thorin’s gaze from seeing exactly what it was, but the momentum of the weight slowly swung the net downwards to waist level- as it was designed to- presenting the party with a nude and slimy dwobbit, crying out to the world. Bilbo began to tear up and let out a soft gasp as Kili rushed to his side with a washcloth, reacting to the newborn as if any of this was normal.
As Bilbo was so aptly prepared for, Thorin fainted.
Dori had luckily reacted quickly, gathering his King from the ground and dragged him to the carefully placed cot at the base of the tree.
As present company began to crowd around the base of the tree in disbelief, Dwalin became aware of what he had almost done, throwing his favorite ax across the garden and away from the tree with a startled “Oh, Mahal!”
Dis, ever the competent dwarf, joined her son in assisting her brother in law clean and warm the newest member of the Line of Durin, an absolutely gorgeous little girl that Bilbo declared was to be called Glova. She had a mess of pitch black, curly tufts of hair on every inch of her tiny head. She seemed to take after Thorin in deposition, having already decided she was disappointed in the world and showed that displeasure with a tiny frown and scrunched eyes.
More than anything, she wished that Frerin was still with them, just so that they could tease Thorin together for fainting. Praise Mahal, to be blessed with a child within two years of marriage, and a girl no less! The only smart decision her brother had seemed to make was marrying that crazy hobbit.
As their first born was wrapped in her blanket and quieted, Thorin shot up out of the cot and immediately fell onto the ground in a tangle. The crowd had dispersed to make room for their king, as Bilbo confidently walked to his tumbling husband.
“Thorin, this is your firstborn daughter, Glova.”
His husband’s face was stricken white, with widened eyes and a gaping mouth as Bilbo placed the tiny pebble into his arms.
“Nine?!?”
_____________________________
Belladonna was born next, roughly half an hour after her sister. Bilbo was right, after all, they were more likely to get two girls than any boys this time around. Thorin didn’t seem to be entirely coherent until his second daughter was born, rigidly holding Glova as if she was explosive and spending minutes staring at her sleeping face and refusing to acknowledge the rest of the world. It wasn’t until the cracking of the second acorn’s casing that Thorin took his attention away from his daughter. He carefully passed Glova to his now favorite nephew Kili- how dare Fili betray Bilbo in such a way- and joined Bilbo at the base of the tree, waiting for their second.
He took a quick moment to embrace his husband, lifting him off the ground and giving him a bear hug. Through his tears, Thorin attempted to apologize, though nothing coherent made it through his babbling.
“Thorin! Put me down. Now, what did I say earlier?”
He was confused for several moments before remembering
“Oh! I love you too.”
“Right, now gather yourself, this will be your first impression with your second born, you don’t want to look a mess.”
Belladonna, named after Bilbo’s mother, was much more composed than Glova, rather making a single shrieking sound, before yawning and going back to sleep. She had significantly less hair than her older sister, but she had a striking red coloring that reminded Thorin of his own mother’s hair.
It seemed the very moment Óin had seen an actual living child fall from the Child Tree, he had sprung into action. Sending a guard for midwives and his first aid kit, and another for highland goat’s milk to feed the pebbles. Ereborn had a fully equipped and barely used child’s ward for this very situation. Well, not the situation of magical tree babies, but for any emergency involving newborns and pebbles. The very moment Bilbo is able to have council, he, Óin and Ori would be having intensive meetings to record every possible detail concerning the Child’s Tree, the King’s children and what this meant for the future of the Line of Durin’s. He was desperately trying to remember everything Bilbo had said in the past year concerning the Child’s Tree that he had so foolishly dismissed as the words of the crazed. Didn’t he mention nine children?
Gandalf had chosen then to interject with his examination of the tree, revealing that there were four more buds growing on the tree, and they would be doubling the newborn pebbles on their next anniversary.
They were lucky that Thorin was not holding either pebble as he fainted again.
_______________________________________
The kingdom was overjoyed when the news was released. Any naysayers that were publicly against the union of their King and a mere hobbit had quickly silenced themselves. A set of twin girls acted as signs from the Heavens that this marriage was blessed. The celebration lasted two weeks, and dwarfs from around the continent traveled to the Lonely Mountain to pay their respect. There were also hundreds of inquiries into betrothment and marriages for the month old daughters, and Thorin had to be physically restrained every time it occurred.
The day after the girls were born, Dwalin had stationed a pair of around the clock guards to watch over the Child’s Tree and the four growing acorns. Remembering that he had left Glova and Belladonna unguarded and hanging 10 feet off the ground for a year gave him heart palpitations, not to mention how he panicked whenever he remembered the ax. He made sure that it was swiftly removed from the garden completely. In his distress, he came clean to Bilbo and offered his job as recompense. Of course, Bilbo would have no one else be in charge of watching over his children, and denied his offer.
Fili, in his despair of being jokingly referred to as the girl’s second favorite uncle, had become their unofficial nanny and took every possible chance to spoil them rotten and watched over them so that Thorin and Bilbo could continue their duties as King and Consort.
The same as their older siblings, the four pebbles were born on their parent’s anniversary. This time, Thorin was fully prepared and had practically set up camp in the garden for the previous week. Bilbo had jokingly made sure the cot was present at their birth, but it was unneeded. That year, they had three girls, Metta, Rarona, and Sigga, as well as their first boy Frerin. The following year, two more dwobbits were born- Jaki and Loinn. That final year, the only single born- Nyr- met his excited family.
After Nyr was born, the Child’s Tree did not bud any more child, though it began dropping acorns almost identical to the one Bilbo had found at Beorn’s. Bilbo had diligently gathered each seed, and stored them away from when his children were ready to have their own faunts.
Though it almost killed Thorin, he and Dwalin followed Bilbo’s instruction and chopped the Child’s Tree down, as was tradition, leaving a wide stump. The family would later take heated metal sticks and burn each of their names into the smooth surface of the cut tree. Thorin had the wood of the tree reserved and would use it through the years to commission carpenters to create gifts and trinkets out of its wood for his family.
Almost a decade after Nyr is born, Gandalf visits Ereborn once more, bringing with him a wee faunt of Frodo, newly orphaned and in desperate need of a family. Thorin, of course, bursts into tears at the sight of the child’s wide eyes and without question Frodo becomes their youngest child. When the faunt is merely 13 years of age, he is allowed to burn his name into the stump among his siblings, though he needs careful guidance to not burn himself.
Thorin spends the rest of his years never questioning his husband again.