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Bilbo was in a vile mood. It had been less than a week since the dwarves had finally realised that hobbits were absurdly ticklish. Bilbo had been secretly proud of the fact that he had kept the information from them for all these years.
Nobody but Thorin ever touched his feet, obviously, and he could pass those reactions as something more amorous. The general pokes, tickles and annoyances of having a family of handsy dwarves was often explained away by them being a bit rough, poking in the wrong spot, etc. So, from the beginning of their journey all those years ago, Bilbo had gotten away with it, with no one any the wiser.
Until now!
Bilbo frowned down at his boy, who looked up with his beseechingly blue eyes. Eyes that Bilbo knew he had gotten from Prim, but could always imagine were from Thorin. It wasn’t really fair, using them as a secret weapon like that.
“Do you know what you’ve done, Frodo?” Bilbo asked solemnly.
Frodo hung his head. “Yes, Uncle Bilbo, they won’t stop,” he said sadly.
“No, I’m sure they won’t. They thrive on tormenting poor innocent hobbits, I’m afraid, love,” he said as he scooped the faunt up into his arms.
“We shall go stand with Uncle Thorin, alright? They shouldn’t bother us in the throne room.” He said decidedly to the child in his arms.
Usually, Frodo would moan about how boring most grown-up dwarves were, but today, he needed a respite, and being on Uncle Thorin’s knee was the safest place in the mountain. Everyone knew that Uncle Thorin didn’t like interruptions, but he and Uncle Bilbo were little, so they wouldn’t really interrupt, Frodo thought.
He was right. Thorin stopped to look, raised an eyebrow at them, and then carried on with the dwarf he was talking to. Frodo watched from Bilbo’s arms until the other dwarf walked away, and Frodo could launch himself at Thorin, who caught him just in time.
”Hello, Bunnanunê. What are you doing here? Isn’t it lesson time?” Thorin asked. He had to hold in his aw as Frodo crossed his little arms and glared out at the remaining dwarves.
“Kili and Fili are horrible. I want new cousins!” Frodo demanded.
Thorin couldn’t help laughing. “I’m afraid you must speak to Dis, Lovrili or Hezzu about that. You do have 5 other cousins besides the lads, Frodo,” Thorin said softly.
“Bombur has all his faunts in lessons, and Gimli wants to play swords. I don’t want to play swords. Only Fili and Kili want to come outside in the garden with me, but they’re meannnn,” he whined as he tried to fight the tears in his eyes.
“Oh sweetheart, it’s alright,” Bilbo said softly, acutely aware of all the nosy dwarven buggers listening in.
“It’s not alright! It’s not fair. I want them to play with me properly. Not like this. I can’t even watch Uncle Dwalin anymore because he does it, too,” Frodo said as he suddenly burst into tears.
Thorin looked at the sad little faunt in his arms and the dwarves awaiting his council. He sighed as he called Balin forward and projected his voice, still holding Frodo close.
“My dear subjects, as you can see, I have a family issue to deal with. I’m sure you understand. I ask you to give your names to Balin and we shall have an early lunch. We shall reconvene in an hour. Your words and please are important, my people. But so are our pebbles,” he said with a sad sigh at the snivelling hobbitling in his arms.
He looked around, worried at what he would see, but all he saw were dwarves cooing at the lad or giving Thorin smiles of commiseration and encouragement. They had nothing to be mad about. Thorin was an excellent king. He cared for all in his kingdom, made sure none went hungry, and even pebble sat when he could. No dwarf would degrade him for an hour to care for the little one in his arms. Besides, hobbit faunts were the most adorable thing in the whole of Arda. Who were they to keep him sad by denying him his Uncle and guardian?
Thorin bowed his head solemnly and stood, placing an arm around Bilbo as he steered them away. He looked at Balin and asked him to call The Company and their families. This appeared to be a family issue, so they needed the whole family.
Thankfully, their personal dining hall was filled in less than 15 minutes. They greeted each other and wondered aloud, but Thorin refused to speak until the last person (Balin) had been seated.
He raised his hand, and the hubbub stopped. He looked down at Frodo, who had stayed nestled in Thorin’s tunic, unwilling to talk to anyone but his Uncle Thorin, who had never done it to him. He wouldn’t, so he was Frodo’s favourite today (well after Uncle Bilbo, who was always Frodo’s favourite).
“So, what’s the problem, Thorin?” Bombur asked, knowing they didn’t have to stand on ceremony when they were alone like this. “Only it is lunch soon. I’ve left my staff bustling around, and I need to be in there,” he said unhappily.
“I will come down with you after and help Bom. Don’t fret.” Bilbo said to help his friend. Bombur just nodded but still looked unhappy.
Thorin didn’t actually know what the issue was, but whatever was upsetting his little gem like this was worth stopping the entire mountain for, in his opinion.
“I’m not sure, but it isn’t good,” he said gruffly, looking down at the sad little hobbit in his arms. Even Frodo's ears were droopy, Mahal, damn it. He should never look that sad.
“Frodo, iben, tell me what it is and who did it, and I will sort it out,” he said softly.
Frodo looked up at all the surrounding dwarves before looking at Bilbo, who nodded encouragingly, and then back to Thorin. “I keep saying don’t do it, that it isn’t nice, and it hurts,” he said in a small voice.
Thorin felt every protective instinct he had ever had flare up. “Did what, everyone in here?” he asked, still confused but also now concerned.
“Not everyone,” Frodo wailed. “Not Uncle Balin or Uncle Ori, Aunt Dis, Aunt Hezzu or Aunt Loverilli, but everyone else. Especially them,” he said with a sad sound as he pointed at Fili, Kili and Dwalin. “It hurts Uncle Thorin, and they don’t stop,” he said as he suddenly burst into huge sobs that shook his tiny body.
Thorin still didn’t know what they had done, but Frodo had said it hurt. He was positive it wasn’t intentional, but that was irrelevant as far as he was concerned
Thorin was going to say something when Bombur’s youngest lad, Boldfur, toddled over. “Is it the naughty fingers thing, Frodo?” he asked solemnly.
Thorin watched bemused as Frodo peeked out from his chest and nodded at Boldfur sadly.
“I told them not to, honest. And I don’t do it. I even asked Amad if I could come in the garden today, instead of lessons,” he said, worried Frodo would think he was a mean dwarf too, especially because Frodo had been so sad recently.
Frodo nodded at his cousin and smiled sadly before snuggling back up into Thorin’s chest.
Thorin just raised an eyebrow at the boy before looking at Bilbo, who smiled down at Boldfur.
Frodo scrambled off Thorin's knee and grabbed Boldfur’s hand. “You’re the best because you don’t do the naughty fingers!” he said firmly, a small glare on his face as he looked at the adult dwarves around them.
“Nope, no naughty fingers, happy fingers only,” Boldfur said as he walked off with Frodo clutching his hand.
Thorin still looked confused until he saw Fili reach out and poke Frodo in his side with a smile. “No goodbye, Fro?” Fili asked.
Instantly, Frodo let go of Boldfur, shrieked at Fili, bit his finger and scrambled back into Thorin’s lap, screaming about naughty fingers and bad Fili, that he hated Fili and wanted to go back to The Shire where they had nice fingers and mean words.
The place erupted into chaos immediately. Poor Boldfur was still standing there looking at his empty hand when he burst into tears, too. Hezzu grabbed the boy and snuggled him close, walking closer to Thorin and planting him on the king’s knee as well. They watched as the lads cuddled and settled one another.
Thorin was listening as Boldfur babbled his apologies, “I’m sorry, Frodo. I was gonna protect you like Uncle Thorin does Uncle Bilbo. I didn’t see his naughty fingers,” he said as he tried to stop crying.
Frodo just huddled under him, nestled between Boldfur and Thorin. “Not your fault. Fili is a rock brain.” Frodo said before sending a heated glare Fili’s way.
Thorin sighed as he cuddled the pebbles and looked at Bilbo, who also sighed.
Bilbo looked at Fili, and his glare rivalled that of even Thorin’s. Fili couldn’t help but shrink back in his seat. “You’re grounded,” Bilbo said, causing the hall to silence.
“I’m a grown dwarrow. You can’t ground me.” Fili said pompously.
“Then act like one,” Bilbo snarled back as he stepped forward, his fists clenched.
The gathered dwarves took a breath. It took a lot to rile Bilbo up, and right now he was fuming. “Frodo just said it hurt, that the naughty fingers hurt, and you, Kili, and Dwalin especially don’t listen. He just told you, and you HAD TO DO IT ANYWAY!” he shouted at the lad.
Fili was confused about what had happened. He had only wanted to cheer up his sad little cousin. “I don’t understand,” he said into the quiet.
“No, you don’t because none of you ever bloody listen. He is a child, not an idiot. He said don’t, and you carried on. How can I expect you to protect him when he isn’t safe with you all?” Bilbo asked, breathing heavily.
It was then that Thorin finally understood. “Wait, are they still tickling him?” he asked, outraged.
The rest of the dwarves looked at one another. Yes they were still tickling Frodo. It was fun, and Frodo often laughed, even if he said no.
“Yes, they haven’t stopped. I’ve told them all, too. I’ve explained he doesn’t enjoy it, but they don’t bloody listen,” Bilbo spat out.
“He said it hurts. Tickling doesn’t hurt,” Bofur said quickly.
“For a dwarf with your hardened skin, maybe not. Tickling hurts if you’re a hobbit. Our skin is thinner and more sensitive, and no one wants to laugh until they have to run away and mess themselves up in private,” he said, glaring at Dwalin.
“What? No, he didn’t.” Dwalin said quickly.
“He most certainly did, repeatedly, and he said he had asked you to stop. He said he begged Uncle Dwalin to stop, but you can’t love him because you keep hurting him.” Bilbo said, his heart all but breaking for his faunt.
He took deep breaths as he grabbed the children from Thorin, giving Thorin a kiss on the temple as he did so.
“Until you can respect his boundaries and listen when we say something, you have no right to be around him. Dis, Balin, Ori, Hezzu, Loverili and the other pebbles are more than welcome in our home. The rest of you had better not step foot in my chambers. You won’t enjoy what happens if you do,” Bilbo said as he stormed out, the two children holding on to him tightly.
Hezzu gave Dis a look, and they grabbed her children from around the room. Loverili stood and grabbed the youngest straight from Bombur’s arms.
“Amad …” Gimli trailed off.
“Did you keep tickling the wee bairn after he asked you to stop?” she asked her almost grown son.
The way Gimli hung his head told her everything she needed to know. “We are all staying in Dis’ rooms tonight. None of you are welcome, apart from you, Balin and Ori, and of course, you, your Majesty,” she said as he stormed off.
“Say bye to everyone. We will see them soon.” Hezzu said to her walking two, who waved confusedly at what was happening.
“You should be ashamed,” she said as she followed Loverili.
Dis was the last to leave. She looked at Thorin and asked a silent question.
“Once! He asked me to stop, so I did immediately. I then started poking Bilbo, enjoying his giggles. He also asked me to stop that, too, so I did. I asked if he didn’t enjoy it, why laugh? He explained they can’t control that they laugh. But that they feel everything so deeply that it hurts when it becomes overstimulating. Once sister, before I knew better and was trying to have fun with my hobbits,” he reassured Dis. He would never not listen to Bilbo. When a dwarf dangles their One over the battlements they can never take chances, and he would never take a chance of hurting Bilbo or losing his love.
Dis nodded at her brother, pride for him swelling her heart, while shame for the rest of their family filled her too. “I have told you. Bilbo has asked you to stop. The pebble has apparently begged. Did you hear what he said?” she asked the room at large. “He would rather go back to The Shire, where his parents drowned, where they call Bilbo Mad Baggins, than be here where those he loves hurt him. Think about that and get your Mahal damned heads out of your arses!” she snarled as she stormed out of the dining hall.
There was an eerie, shame-filled silence that overtook them all.
Nobody said anything until Balin stood and walked over to Thorin. “You have about 20 minutes, Thorin. I will sort out the petitioners,” he said with a clasp on Thorin's shoulder before he left. He had listened when Bilbo had said they didn’t enjoy being tickled, but he hadn’t realised that almost nobody else had.
Thorin waited for Balin to leave. He then glanced around the room before he looked at his friends, his closest companions, and glared at them.
“We didn’t know it was hurting him,” Kili said in a soft, sad voice.
“Because you thought he was overreacting. I know he told you because Bilbo said he had spoken to you separately. How did you not know?” Thorin demanded.
“We thought it was a hobbity thing. We thought they were just being dramatic like Bilbo can be,” Bofur said as he looked down at the table, unable to look Thorin in the face.
It was obviously the wrong thing to say to Thorin. “So what if it was? So what if he was being overly dramatic or silly? They said no, to stop. Do you ever think there’s a reason Bilbo didn’t let any of us know how ticklish hobbits are? After all these years, even I barely knew. Imagine your much bigger, much stronger loved ones holding you down, with you begging and crying, and they still don’t listen?” he snarled at them.
“I know you love him, that you love them. I know you didn’t mean to harm them. But it doesn’t matter because all of you did. If my Consort and child return to The Shire, I WILL follow them, and you will not be welcome!” Thorin fumed as he stormed out of the hall, away from his friends and went to deal with being a king, wishing he could be curled up with his little loves.
The hall was silent once again as the rest of The Company looked at one another. It was Nori who finally broke it. “Well, we fucked up,” he said sadly.
“We did indeed. Even I poked him a little more for the lovely giggles. I just hadn’t realised,” Dori said morosely.
“They’re right though, ain’t they? ‘’ Bofur asked. “We should have known. We were asked, but we ignored them. Can you imagine what a dwarrowdam would have done to us if we hadn’t listened like that? Hezzu would have ripped our heads off,” he continued.
“Aye, but Bilbo believed we would listen like he wanted us to. He expected us to protect the boy. Never knew it would have to be from us,” Dwalin admitted. He felt sick. He had adored and loved that boy since the first moment Bilbo had found him in the Great Smials. Frodo had always wanted to hang around with Uncle Dwalin when he was free. Dwalin had noticed Frodo had been a bit distant lately but hadn’t realised why.
“I can’t believe how badly you ignored him. I heard Frodo being tickled once, and he screamed. How could you not realise?” Ori asked his family.
“Yeah, we get it. We fucked up Ori.” Fili snarled at him.
“Don’t take it out on me. I didn’t make a pebble scared in his own home, did I?” He asked, glaring back at Fili.
Fili felt himself droop. He wasn’t mad at Ori; he was angry at himself. “What do we do?” he asked the room at large.
“Well, for one, you apologise, and you don’t do it again,” Ori said, glaring at the wall. “He is a hobbit, not a dwarf. Think of all the times we screwed Bilbo over. If you make it clear you are actually sorry and listen to him, he will forgive you, not that you deserve it,” he added with a huff.
“You’re not wrong,” Gloin said sadly. “We failed the kiddo. We failed Bilbo and the kiddo,” he said.
All the dwarves looked at one another, promising to do better. To listen properly and to always respect what Bilbo and Frodo said from now on. To do right by their brother and nephew. To help Frodo regain his trust in the people he should be able to trust with his life and who adored him as much as they loved him. Even if they had screwed up badly.