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Bilbo Baggins has been staying in Erebor for 3 months since the war ended. He’s been away from his hobbit hole in Bag End for 16 months. But in all of his 426 days away from home, he has not stopped moving. It’s little things, such as bouncing his leg, or tapping his fingers, but it most never stops.
Today, Bilbo was drumming his fingers on his desk in his room (which was excessively big, really. Bilbo had tried to tell that to Thorin, who had just waved it off and said that if Bilbo had been given any less of a nice room, it would just be insulting). So here he was, staring out the window, his hands tapping a little tune. Eventually he blinked away, and caught his attention in his mirror. His hair had gotten quite long and a bit unruly. Bilbo got up, walked towards the mirror, and ran his hand through his hair.
Luckily, it wasn’t too tangled. Bilbo watched himself grab a piece of his hair and twirl it between his fingers, the soft curls twisting around easily. He grabbed a few strands of hair, twisting them around each other. Bilbo’s eyes lit up as he got an idea, and he went around the room to find a small chair to use.
Grabbing a stool from the washroom, he plunked it down in front of the mirror and sat on it. Bilbo then grabbed a few hands of hair and started to braid it. It was a simple braid, really, just the three strands around and around. Once it was completed, he ran his fingers through it, separating the strands. He had a smile on his face as he started the braid over, this time more intricate.
When Bilbo was younger, his mother, Belladonna Took, let him braid her hair. Over and over again, she let him comb it, split it into three uneven strands, and twist them over each other. After, no matter the results, she’d engulf him in a hug and tell Bilbo how much she loved it.
Smiling fondly at the memory, Bilbo was brought back to the present by a sharp knock at his door.
“Come in, Balin.” Bilbo called, not bothering to look at the door. He knew it was Balin, for he was the only dwarf that had half the sense of politeness to knock on Bilbo’s door. In fact, Bilbo would need to borrow multiple fingers and toes to count the amount of times Fíli and Kíli had barged into Bilbo’s room without warning in the last month.
“You alright, laddie?” Balin asked as he stuck his head into the room.
”Quite well. Yourself?” Bilbo responded, pausing his braid midway to glance at the dwarf.
“Quite good. It’s just about time for dinner, the others are making their way downstairs.”
”Ah! Thank you for reminding me, Balin. You know how forgetful I am,” Bilbo smiled. “I’ll be down in half a moment!”
Balin smiled and shut the door as Bilbo went back to his braid. Twisting the last strands of hair together, he admired the finished product. Starting at his right temple, it was a thin braid with a piece of hair spun around it (held in place by some string in Bilbo’s pocket), braided in with two regular pieces of hair and ending at the nape of his neck. Holding it in place, Bilbo looked for something to secure it with. Maybe one of those small beads the dwarves always have in their hair. Besides, Bilbo finds them in every nook and cranny, so he was sure he’d be fine.
Finding one by his windowsill, Bilbo fastened it to his braid. It was a small copper bead, unadorned to any symbols or whatnot. Glancing at himself one last time in the mirror, he headed downstairs.
——————————————————————————
“You’re sure he didn’t leave?”
”Thorin, it’s been three months, he’s not just going to walk out on you!”
”But you’re sure he didn’t seem weird? He just said he forgot?”
”Aye, Thorin, we’ve had this discussion three times.”
”I know,” Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’m sorry, Balin. I just am worried he’ll decide to leave without tell.”
“Laddie, he’s only 5 minutes late for dinner! It’s not the end of the world!” Balin said exasperatedly. “Look, there he is now.”
Thorin whipped his head around, finding himself facing Bilbo, who was pulling out the seat to his right. Thorin gave a sigh of relief and smiled at the Hobbit. “Good evening, Bilbo.”
”Evening, Thorin.” Bilbo smiled back. Thorin’s heart jumped a beat at that smile. Oh, how Thorin wished he were always the one to cause that smile. To be the one to make his burglar smile. To call the Hobbit his.
Thorin’s smile faded as he noticed Fíli and Kíli muttering suspiciously in Khuzdul, looking at Bilbo.
“Fíli! Kíli! Is there something you’d like say to everyone?” Thorin called out in common.
The two, also on Thorin’s right (but behind Bilbo), widened their eyes at Thorin’s question to them.
“No, Uncle.” Fíli shook his head.
”Nothing at all, Uncle.” Kíli agreed.
Thorin shook his head. “Yes, that is a sentence I most believe. Lies. Alas, let’s not waste time on silly nonsense. Lets eat!”
Everyone dug into their food. Thorin mostly conversed with Balin as he ate, occasionally having bits of conversation with the other dwarves, or Bilbo.
As everyone talked, Thorin noticed most everyone’s eyes were flickering to Bilbo at one point or another. Fíli and Kíli were doing it constantly, Thorin caught Ori looking, who then turned pink at Thorin’s gazed and averted his eyes for the rest of the night. Bofur vaguely gestured towards the Hobbit to Dwalin once, but seemed to get caught into another topic after. Gloin, who was across from Bilbo, didn’t give any strange gazes and instead held a conversation with Bilbo. Bombur, who was seated next to Gloin, was also happily chatting with the Hobbit about a new dessert he had made. Nori and Dori had just smiled at him and put their attention back into their meal, while Bifur and Oin had conversed with each other the entire time.
Once the dinner ended, Bombur spoke to the entire room.
“I’ve a new recipe I’d like for you all to try, if you don’t so mind.” He said proudly, a grin on his face. When everyone gladly agreed, he ran to the kitchen. “Back in just but a moment!”
The entire table started to chatter excitedly, Bilbo more than the rest.
“Oh, I just adore Bombur’s desserts! I wish many times a day that I could always carry them with me.” Said the Hobbit to Thorin.
That could probably be arranged, thought Thorin. Anything for you, my Hobbit.
” ‘Ere she is!” Bombur announced happily, carrying a large tray of cake.
Thorin chuckled, picking up his plate and silverware to make room for the dessert. He looked over at Bombur, who was entering from his right. Bilbo was looking over his shoulder, his face turned to his left, where, clear as day, there was a braid.
Thorin dropped his silverware and plate, the objects clattering on the floor. Bilbo had a braid in his hair. A betrothal braid. Clasped with a bead.
Everyone’s heads turned to Thorin, whose face was pale, his eyes wide and angry.
”Thorin?” Asked Bilbo. “Thorin, are you all right?”
Thorin glared at the Hobbit. ‘Traitor,’ he had whispered in Khuzdul.
“Sorry, what was that?” Bilbo leaned in a bit.
‘Traitor!’ Thorin practically roared, rising from his chair and slamming his hands on the table. ‘You traitor! I treat you with the love of a king, I give you any wish you could want, and you betray me like this? You let another peruse you? You don’t even confide in me, if not a lover but as a friend. Nay, Master Baggins, could you even be considered a friend to me anymore?’
The dwarves, all wide eyed, had stared at Thorin, then at Bilbo, who had seemed to shrink in his chair. Thorin looked at the others. ‘I suppose all of you were just going to keep quiet? To just let my Hobbit silently be betrothed without as much of a word to me? I thought I could trust you.’ Thorin stormed to the door, glaring at everyone as he opened it. With one final huff, Thorin had slammed it behind him, echoing and shaking the room.
———————————————————————————
Still shaken, Bilbo turned to the remaining dwarves.
“Does anyone care to tell me what just happened? Mind you, I don’t speak Khuzdul, so I’m expecting an actual answer.”
”Well, erm, in your hair-“ Started Bofur.
”My braid?” Bilbo’s hand flew to his hair, shocked. “My braid is the cause of this?”
”Well, you know about Dwarvish braids, don’t you?” Kíli asked.
“I know they’re important to you. But- I’m just a Hobbit! I’m not a dwarf! So why is a braid in my hair so special?”
” ‘S a betrothal braid, son.” Balin said simply. “Not a common one, but a betrothal braid nonetheless.”
Bilbo felt his face flush pink. “So…Thorin’s mad at me, because he thinks I’m getting married?” He hid his face as it flushed even more when the dwarves nodded. “Oh,” he realized softly. “Oh, that would mean…” Bilbo looked up at everyone. “Is Thorin mad because he’s jealous?”
No one said anything, which was quite enough of an answer for Bilbo.
“I must fix this.” He announced, pushing back his chair.
“Uncle’s going to be mad, Bilbo.” Fíli warned, putting a hand on the Hobbit. “It’s going to be bad. Please, be careful. He won’t be thinking straight. I’m most afraid he might harm you.”
Bilbo shook his head. “Thorin wouldn’t do that.” He said. I think, he thought nervously.
Slowly walking to the door, Bilbo took a deep sigh, opened it, and started the journey to find Thorin.
———————————————————————————
Thorin threw another stone carving across his room, this one of a crown, the intricate design crumbling as it hit the wall. Littered around him were similar things, all thrown in a fit of fury.
Thorin huffed and looked around his room. Mounted on his wall, two battle axes, crossed over each other. Thorin grabbed one, and chucked it randomly, where it embedded itself in his bedpost. He grabbed the other one, spinning around to throw it, where he stopped short in the sight of a burglar in front of him.
Thorin hesitated, then nodded curtly, suddenly very aware of the mess around him. “It seems you are a very good burglar, hafling. Stealing the hearts of anyone who walks by your way.” He grumbled, turning to leave the room.
The Hobbit said nothing, instead grabbing Thorin’s arm, stopping him. Thorin turned around darkly, his brows furrowing.
“And what is the meaning of this, Master Baggins?”
”Stop calling me those things!” Bilbo shouted sternly, glaring up at Thorin. “My name is Bilbo, something you damn well know!”
Thorin blinked in surprise. His polite, gentle hobbit, had just sworn at him? His mouth opened in response, but nothing came out.
Bilbo sighed. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have sworn at you. But we need to talk, Thorin.” He dropped his hand from the dwarf.
Thorin finally found his voice. “Okay.” He said. “Okay, let’s talk. Why do you have a betrothal braid?”
”Not the start I would have preferred, but okay.” Bilbo sighed under his breath. “I, er, don’t have a betrothal braid. Not really.”
”But you do.” Thorin had responded, a bit loudly. “You do have a betrothal braid. You let someone braid you hair, and clasp it. You have a betrothal braid, Bilbo.”
”It’s not like that, Thorin!”
“Who did it?” Thorin shouted. “I’m not going to play these games. Who braided your hair? If it can’t be me, at least let me know who you’ll be running off with.” He said, this time softer, as Bilbo had flinched against his voice.
“I braided my own hair.” Bilbo explained. “I, well, my mother used to let me braid her hair, and it’s something I enjoy doing, as it gives my hands some purpose, and I liked it, so I beaded it to make it stay.”
Thorin’s breath hitched. So his Hobbit had just made a mistake. “Bilbo…” Thorin shook his head softly.
“I’m sorry.” Bilbo whispered, turning his face.
”Bilbo,” Thorin dropped to his knees, ignoring the Hobbit’s eyes turning wide. “Bilbo, if I was aware that you had even half a thought of getting your hair braided, I would have offered myself immediately. I would have taken your hands and begged you to let me be the one to do so. I’d give you jewels and riches, if only I could be the one to do such an honor.”
”Thorin.” Bilbo whispered as he took a small step back, a blush creeping upon his cheeks.
”You are my pull to this earth, Bilbo Baggins. You’re the air that goes through my lungs, the sanity in my times of madness. For you, Bilbo, I would offer all I own a thousand times over, if only for a chance to be the one to braid your hair.” Thorin gently took the Hobbit’s hands in his own.
“Do you mean it?” Was all Bilbo had responded with, his breaths shaky.
Thorin nodded.
Bilbo was quiet for a while, simply staring into Thorin’s eyes, seemingly searching for something inside of them. “Can…can you braid my hair?”
Thorin’s heart soared. His Hobbit was finally asking the question Thorin had only dreamed about. He nodded once, twice. Three times. Then he finally found his voice. “Yes, Bilbo. I will braid your hair.”
———————————————————————————
Bilbo sat on Thorin’s bed, his head tipped up as the dwarf brushed his hair, a small distance separating the two. They had been like this for 20 minutes, sitting in peaceful silence.
“Your hair is so soft,” Thorin broke the silence, his hand sliding into Bilbo’s curls at the back of his head. Bilbo shivered at the touch, his breath slightly hitching as he resisted the urge to lean closer to Thorin.
“Thank you,” Bilbo mumbled as Thorin continued to brush his hair, his eyelids fluttering shut. Suddenly the brushing stopped, and Bilbo was pulled against Thorin, who pressed his forehead against the back of Bilbo’s neck. Bilbo’s mouth opened and he almost protested, before he thought better and didn’t say anything. The two sat there for a moment, the only sound being soft breathing.
”I think your hair is ready for braiding now.” Thorin murmured against Bilbo. “We can do a basic one, if you’d like. One that symbolizes trust and friendship.”
Bilbo winced at that. Trust? Absolutely. But friendship? Bilbo may not be the smartest hobbit in the hole, feelings wise, but even he could tell that Thorin and him had something more than friendship.
”Erm, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to propose another idea.”
”Of course. What kind of design do you have in mind? We could most likely do it, save for the braids that mean other things.”
Bilbo turned around to face Thorin. “What does a courting braid look like?”
The dwarf choked, pounding his chest as he stared wide eyed at Bilbo. “What? A courting braid? But- we aren’t-“
”Don’t be idiotic, Thorin. Did you not just tell me such lengths you would go to for the honor of braiding my hair? That isn’t really ‘friendship’ talk.” Bilbo interjected, rolling his eyes.
“Well, yes.”
”So what does a courting braid look like?”
Thorin shifted away from Bilbo to get up from the bed and grabbed a book from one of the many shelves in his room. Laying it down on the bed, he flipped through the pages until he paused at one filled with braid designs.
“These are traditionally what is done, but it is not uncommon for others to make alternations, depending on their preferences.”
Bilbo nodded, taking in the braid designs before him. There were small braids that took up only a few strands, and other braids that took up multiple sections of hair. There were different braids for beards and heads.
“What, no braids for foot hair?” Bilbo joked, gesturing to the soft curls on his feet.
Thorin frowned. “No, but if you wish-“
”Joking! I was joking!” Bilbo said quickly. “The hair is not nearly long enough, it’ll just pull and be most uncomfortable.”
“Oh.”
”Anyway, I do think this design is quite nice.” Bilbo pointed to a braid, in which two braids started at the temples, meeting in the middle and falling downwards, fastened together with a bead.
”A sword braid?” Thorin raised one eyebrow. I haven’t seen one of those in many years.”
”Do you know how to do it?”
“Of course I do!”
Grinning, Bilbo turned on the bed, sitting down where his hair was to be braided. He couldn’t help the excited tapping of his feet as Thorin climbed back onto the bed and pulled strands of hair into his hands, starting the braid.
———————————————————————————
“Quit fidgeting, you’ll mess up the braid!” Thorin complained mid-braid.
”I can’t help it! I’m excited!” Bilbo exclaimed, which Thorin noticed was true. The Hobbit did have a tendency to shift and move when excited.
“Whatever you say, Bilbo.” Thorin chuckled, sweeping up the hair on the back of the Hobbit’s neck and softly kissing it before they both froze. “I- I’m so sorry.” Thorin pulled away, the half twisted strands of hair falling out of his hands.
Bilbo turned to face Thorin, his face beet red. “That-“
”Sorry! I’m so sorry, Bilbo. That wasn’t right of me. I didn’t mean to invade-“ Thorin panicked, covering his face with his hands.
Bilbo took Thorin’s wrists in his hands, slowly pulling them down. Taking the dwarf’s face in his hands, he slowly pressed a kiss on his forehead.
Thorin gasped, raising his eyes to meet Bilbo’s as another kiss was given, this time between his eyes. Before another one could be given by Bilbo, Thorin cupped the Hobbit’s face in his hands and placed a soft kiss on his lips.
The feeling was more than anything Thorin could have ever imagined. It seemed as everything bad had rid itself from the world in that moment. Thorin heard Bilbo’s gasp, which momentarily worried him before the Hobbit had eagerly kissed him back. Thorin placed his hand and the back of his head (accidentally destroying the braid), and pulled Bilbo closer, who intertwined his fingers in Thorin’s hair.
Thorin sighed contently as they pulled apart, a smile on his lips. “I,” Thorin said, pressing his forehead to Bilbo’s, “have wanted to do that for a very long time.”
Bilbo hummed in response, wrapping his arms around Thorin and melting into him. Thorin embraced Bilbo back, all of his heart focused on the Hobbit.
“Bilbo,” Thorin had whispered quite a time later. “Do you still want to finish the braid?”
Bilbo, who had been lightly dozing on Thorin’s shoulder, groggily nodded. He slowly peeled himself away from Thorin’s grasp and turned around, lightly tipping his head back for braiding. Thorin thought it best to not mention how the design got messed up, and instead swiftly restarted the braid, his fingers fast and nimble in Bilbo’s soft hair.
———————————————————————————
“Done!” Thorin announced as he fastened a silver bead to the middle of Bilbo’s braid. “All finished!”
Bilbo excitedly jumped up at ran to Thorin’s mirror, admiring the hairstyle. “Oh, Thorin, it’s amazing!” Bilbo gushed, his eyes full of life. “Thank you!”
‘For you, my love, anything.” Thorin said, taking Bilbo’s hand and gently kissing it.
Bilbo quirked an eyebrow. “Care to tell my what that means?”
”One day, maybe.”
Bilbo laughed, which was interrupted by the door swinging open.
“Bilbo? There you are! We haven’t seen you for three hours!” Kíli cried as he, Fíli, and Balin ran into the room. “Oh, hello, Uncle.”
Thorin nodded. “Kíli. Fíli. Balin. May I ask why you are barging into my room unannounced?”
Bilbo snorted. “If you get an answer, please tell me. I ask those two,” he gestured to Fíli and Kíli, “that question at least five times a week.”
”We were worried!” Fíli huffed. “First, Uncle, you yell and leave the room, then Bilbo follows you and we don’t hear a peep from him for hours! With what you said at the table, I had every right to believe someone could’ve been injured.”
”Which is clearly not the case,” Balin observed Bilbo’s braid. “I take it you two have sorted things out?”
Bilbo nodded. “Yes, quite well, actually.”
Balin smiled. “It was about time. If I had to hear Thorin fret about you one more time, I would’ve gone and braided your hair for him myself!”
Thorin threw his head back and laughed, loud and hearty. Bilbo chucked as well, but stopped at the sound of his grumbling stomach.
“Well, I suppose that’s my sign to leave,” Bilbo said sheepishly. “I wonder if Bombur has saved any cake.”
“I’m sure he has,” Thorin took Bilbo’s hand. “Shall we go find it, love?”
Bilbo’s ears turned slightly pink at the name, but he nodded.
“We shall.”