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Bilbo was nervous. He had avoided it for years, and he never understood why, really. He was comfortable singing and spinning tales, poems, and songs for the little ones, the men, and the elves. But compared to the dwarves’ deep, rumbling voices that vibrated under the mountain, he often felt lacking.
Not because of his, or the dwarves in general, but because while “The Green Dragon” and “Man on the Moon” sounded good in the taverns, none of his ditties were grand enough.
Which led him here, bickering with Nori. “Well, he likes common stuff. He’s friends with Bofur.” Nori finally said in exasperation.
Ignoring Bo’s shouted “OI” from the other side of the table. They were having afternoon tea with Bilbo whilst Frodo was out raining havoc with Kili, Fili and Gimli. Bombur’s kids have gone on holiday to see the other side of their family for a few months. Something Frodo had been very unhappy about, so Kili, in particular, had taken over faunt wrangling. Which was perfect for Bilbo, who, as much as he loved Frodo, with everything inside of him, was exhausted. “Look. I just haven’t had the time to write him the correct KIND of song,” he emphasised to Nori.
It caused Bofur to snort. “Our king is so madly in love with you, you could be all. “So, I wrote a poem that says I love you, the end,” and he would have it plastered over Erebor faster than you could blink.” He chortled at his friend, finding his stressing amusing.
“Thank you for that, Bofur.” he deadpanned at his friend.
“Bil, he’s being daft, but he isn’t wrong. Thorin loves you. The sprout is sleeping in Dis’ rooms tonight. Get some writing done, and then you can surprise Thorin. I know you’ve been too knackered to do the do.” He said with a laugh as Bilbo’s face went red.
“What, how, what?” he sputtered out, causing both of his friends to laugh at him. “You two are awful. Next time I’m inviting Dori to tea, he isn’t … you,” he grumbled out from behind his hands.
“Look,” Nori suddenly said, a bit more seriously. “Dwalin was worried, and Thorin said you’re so exhausted he barely spends time with you, and he gets it. He does. But you’re both so busy and what with the nipper, it will be nice for the pair of you,” he said softly.
“When did you get so good at relationship advice?” Bilbo asked snarkily.
“Since my big, burly dwarf finally married me, it only took the prick nearly 100 years,” Nori said with a laugh.
“Please, you didn’t wanna be caught before sending the poor lad on a good chase around Luin.” Bofur chimed in, laughing.
“Well, I’m exceptional. I had to make sure Dwalin could keep up.” Nori said with an indecent waggle of his overly decorated eyebrows.
All three ended up howling in laughter at and with one another. Just another tea time with his dwarves, Bilbo thought fondly. “You’re not wrong, though; thank you both,” Bilbo said thoughtfully.
“Course we ain’t. We will leave you to your writing. We know how grumpy you get. Want us to do anything?” Bofur asked as he and Nori got ready to leave, hugging Bilbo tightly with their goodbyes.
“Umm, can you check on Frodo quickly? If they are behaving, leave them to it, but make sure they aren’t causing problems again, please?” he said as he nervously bit his nail. He hadn’t had Frodo out of his sight or care for this long since before he came to Erebor 5 years ago. He was still very much a mischievous child, aided and abetted by all The Company.
“What, like when they let the new mating ram pair loose?”
“Or when they stole Bombur’s battle spoon?”
“Or when they put honey on Thorin’s throne, only they had done something to it, and he was stuck?”
“Did we ever figure out what they used?”
“Nope, they had no clue either. They wanted to make a mess, but instead, they gave us a stuck King.” Nori howled with laughter, Bofur joining in.
“Yes, exactly like that,” Bilbo huffed and folded his arms. There was a reason Bilbo had never been caught by the youngster’s pranks; he had never underestimated how naughty but cute little faunts were. Apparently, dwarf youngsters were practically born serious, more emotional than cheeky. Hobbits were the other way, full of mischief and sugar and spice. Add in that they were the most adorable children in all of Arda. The entire mountain hadn’t stood a chance. If only they had listened to him, Bilbo thought with sadistic glee every time Frodo dragged any of the others into his schemes. And regardless of what Thorin said, it wasn’t Fili and Kili causing all the problems. It was 100% Frodo Baggins-Durin, and Bilbo would remember it, unlike his dwarves.
“But aye, don’t fret, Bil. We will check him and make sure he is behaving; if not, we will drag them to Dis. Calm down, write Thorin a sappy poem and woo your male,” Nori said with a laugh.
Bilbo just pulled faces at him before he ran out the door after them. “Bofur, Bofur,” he shouted down the corridor. Surprised at the speed, Bofur and Nori rushed back to him, weapons drawn. “Oh, for Yavanna’s sake, I’m alright. You just left me with 2 guards.” He said, exasperated at his friend’s over-protectiveness.
“Well, you can’t be too careful,” Bofur said cheerfully.
“You are all absurd. Ridiculous, the lot of you.” Bilbo bemoaned his friends.
“Aye, but were your ridiculous dwarves right?” Bofur said, laughing at his friend.
“Look, I just wanted you to pop to the kitchen and ask Bombur to make me a supper picnic, please?” Bilbo asked, thoroughly fed up with his closest friends at this point.
“Oh, a picnic. Lucky king.” Nori said teasingly.
“Well, if you can drag him away from his axes, take Dwalin on a picnic tomorrow. If you go somewhere secluded, you can have lots of naughty sex, too,” Bilbo snarked at Nori.
“Bilbo,” he gasped in a perfect imitation of Dori.
“Oh, don’t, we just stopped,” Bilbo said between laughing fits. “Just do that for me, you stone-brain idiots, and deliver it for me, please?” he asked when they calmed down again.
“Alright, mighty Consort. Where are we delivering the basket to?” Bofur asked with a mock, mannish salute, causing Nori to snigger and Bilbo to roll his eyes.
Bilbo looked at Nori and said, “Can you take it to the Gundam-zaram, please? “He smiled smugly at his friend as Nori whooped for him.
“Yes, Khuzdul Consort.” Nori said as he grabbed Bilbo in a tight hug.
“I wasn’t sure if you would remember,” Bilbo said shyly between his laughs.
“Well done, and of course I remembered. You were so pissed off.” Nori said with a laugh, his pride in Bilbo’s refusal to give up learning a language he wasn’t created to speak clear. Especially a language as harsh as theirs.
“Thank you, Nori,” Bilbo said softly to one of his best friends.
Nori leant down and pressed his head to Bilbos. “Of course, my friend,”
“Right, well, whatever that was about, picnic at the lake and check on the nipper. Come on, Nori, or I’m telling Dwalin you’re being mushy again,” Bofur said with a grin as he ushered Nori away, not before Bilbo and Nori rolled their eyes and stuck their tongues out at Bofur as he marched away, sniggering to themselves.
Bilbo gripped his newly written sheet of paper tightly as he waited for his husband. Balin had promised to make sure Thorin finished on time today and that he would usher him to Bilbo. The “have a good evening” and the hearty wink was uncalled for in Bilbo’s opinion, but what could one do faced with dwarves, he supposed.
Bilbo had arranged the blankets and cushions so Thorin could rest comfortably. Stubborn oaf would never admit it, but he couldn’t really lie flat. Azog’s sword had left permanent damage, and whilst Thorin was hale and hearty, he was getting on in life, and his body was a mess of scars and tight, painful skin. And, because dwarves were idiots, he and Nori had compared their male’s aches and pains and concluded they were both stupid, and he and Nori would have to make it easier for them whilst being careful of that damnable Durin pride.
If that meant Bilbo had spent an hour and a whole lot of change paying some of the older pebbles to help him make this place worthy of his beloved’s delicate (not that Bilbo would ever use that word to Thorin’s face) state, well, that was between him and them.
Bilbo’s head suddenly lifted when he heard his beloved’s footsteps.
Another thing he would never mention, but Thorin had a permanent limp, which he often lied about. Daft dwarves, Bilbo thought with fondness as his husband walked in and looked around at the decorations. Bilbo had not only sorted out the blankets but managed to build a fire pit. There were also those shining gems they used down the mines when open flames were too dangerous. They made beautiful shadow shapes and caused the minerals in the surrounding rock to glitter and glow, as well as causing the water to glisten, as though the moon was shining on it.
“Giveshal,” Thorin said. After a look of wonder, his gaze stopped on his hobbit, whose eyes shone like emeralds and hair glittered like mithril, copper, brass and bronze all mixed in. Whose very being was a gift from Mahal that Thorin knew he would never deserve and yet converted more than anything in his hard history. Thorin stood, eyes soft with wonder as Bilbo walked forward, a smile on his face and love shining from him to cover every inch of Thorin, making him shiver with the intensity of his gaze. As soon as Bilbo was within arm’s reach, Thorin pulled him forward and kissed him. Fire and passion, companionship passing through his lips to Bilbo’s, but most of all, the all-consuming love he felt for his little burglar. His One, his husband. “Bilbo…” he breathed out as they pulled apart.
“Well, I missed you too,” Bilbo said breathlessly, having been taken by surprise. Thorin just smiled down at him, happy to bask in his hobbit’s presence. “Oh, behave, looking at me like that,” Bilbo groused as he slapped Thorin’s arm gently and grabbed his hand. He pulled him to the little dais he had created. “Come on, love, down with you,” he said as he shoved his dwarf onto the cushion and helped him settle.
“I’m not an invalid, you know?” Thorin said sardonically.
“No, but I’m a hobbit, home and comfort and all that, so sit and don’t move,” Bilbo replied, hands on his hips. Thorin bowed his head gravely, a small half smile gracing his face. Bilbo waited until he was sure his male would stay where he had placed him before he grabbed the large basket.
Bless Bombur for never underestimating a hobbit’s appetite, he thought fondly.
“And what do we have there, Iben?” Thorin asked gently.
“Supper and a show,” Bilbo answered, slightly nervous.
“Supper and a show?” Thorin repeated, a lecherous grin crossing his face now.
“No, stop that!” Bilbo squawked out, grabbed a cushion, and threw it at his spouse’s face, causing Thorin to laugh. Bilbo grumbled under his breath.
“No, um, I, well, I realised I had never performed a poem. Just for you,” Bilbo finally said nervously.
All of Thorin’s mirth vanished as he sat up. His hobbit was a wordsmith. For him to give Thorin the gift of his craft was one of the most romantic gifts a dwarf could receive from a loved one, especially their actual One.
“Iben …” he said, mouth parted in wonder at his hobbity husband. “You honour me,” he breathed out, enjoying how Bilbo squeaked and flushed bright red, ever the modest being.
“You hush. Your pretty words will distract me.” Bilbo said with a teasing grin. “Shh, and listen, alright? I wrote it with both of us in mind. I remembered how much you love the sound of this place …” he trailed off with a slight shrug. All of his pretty words abandoned him, what with the way Thorin was looking at him. “Just sit and hush,” Bilbo murmured as he walked away from his beloved.
“Bilbo, I’m sat,” Thorin replied with a teasing grin that got bigger as Bilbo got more flustered. Bilbo waved him off as he walked to the little stool he had placed near the water. Bilbo took a deep breath and took a step until he stood on top of the stool, lifting him a little. Then he gazed at Thorin before reciting the poem he had spent hours creating for his love earlier that day.
Flowers and gems, both precious and rare
Both have their beauty, their charm and their flair
Flowers are fragrant, they bloom, and they fade
They grace the gardens, the fields and the glades
Gems are eternal, they sparkle and shine
They adorn the crowns, the rings and the shrines
Flowers and gems, both different and alike
Both have their value, their worth and their price
Both you and me, connected through love
Like the flowers and the gems
The way it was supposed to be
He recited, his voice echoing over the water, the malachites ringing in unison with his melodious voice as he called out the words, spearing Thorin straight through his heart. As soon as Bilbo opened his eyes, all he saw was a broad, dwarven chest. All he felt were those strong dwarven arms pulling him close, one hand behind his head, the other hand near his face, Thorin’s fingers stroking Bilbo’s cheek.
“Iben, my flower,” Thorin said, emotion choking his voice.
Bilbo smiled back softly. “My dwarven gem,” he replied as Thorin pulled him into a sweet, love-affirming kiss. Bilbo was unsure how long they stood together that way, but he was sure he never wanted to leave Thorin’s embrace, where he was safe, warm, content, loved, and, most importantly, home.