Chapter Text
The great battle of the five kingdoms is over.
Azog's death is imminent, the nearby lands have been freed from dark forces.
The dwarves retake Erebor.
The deal with the lake people is fulfilled, a new throne rises.
The earth is free from darkness, the king under the mountain has been crowned.
Fili has a great weight on his shoulders but his uncle knows what kind of dwarf he is, he knows the character of this heir.
As for Thorin, he must fulfill a much more laborious task than managing an entire kingdom.
A family.
It could be said that Thorin Oakenshield's sole purpose was to end the misery of his people, cleanse the name of the line, bring prosperity to those dwarves banished from the majestic home, but fate is curious and Gandalf the Gray has a little to do with the events.
Hiring a burglar entailed many risks, at some point Thorin believed it was unnecessary, however, at the insistence of the wizard with the pointy hat, they had to sign a deal with Bilbo Baggins himself.
Bilbo, a hobbit who at first glance could cause a hint of tenderness mixed with suspicion.
How could a halfling like him be able to face the great terror of the century?
Gandalf insisted, perhaps out of a mysterious kindness the hobbit redoubled the thought which caused a chain of inexplicable events.
The adventure is not a field of calm, a crusade is not the exact moment to become aware of the interiors but since the arrival of that halfling something had changed in the future king, something that was undoubtedly annoying for the sullen dwarf.
What was rejection became friendship.
Despite the criticism against him, the hobbit proved to be loyal, noble-hearted, with a capacity hidden until now.
Master Baggins was able to face the goblins, the warg wolves, every danger that fate placed in front of him.
He soon became an ally on the path to reclaim Erebor.
But in the end, when humans, elves, and even a dragon set out to deny him the right to rule, this halfling stayed by his side, not caring if Thorin was king or simply the same dwarf who entered his home in the shire.
Greed blinded him and even when the gold poisoned Oakenshield's mind it was Bilbo who took the the ark stone to free him.
The events after that day gave rise to the truth that was timidly hidden in the heart of the son of Thrain.
He was in love.
In love with the nobility that the hobbit was able to carry despite the dangers experienced.
Bilbo Baggins had a magic that he couldn't find in anyone else and that little one managed to bring him back to his center, offering a hand, smiling with the warmth of a spring morning.
Once again the path was divided into two parts: Be the king under the mountain or take a long journey to start in a place far from the rest of the world.
Again Gandalf took his place as advisor.
Thorin let go of the throne in the name of love.
What was once pain had become the sweet essence of life.
No one in the halls reproached him, with congratulations, among hurried celebrations the joyful occasion was celebrated.
The coronation of a new monarch on the one hand, the wedding of Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins on the other.
The return trip was bathed in greetings that the passenger friends gave.
The Shire...
The gentle forests, the calm streams and the land blessed with fertile soil make this place a small paradise away from the rest of the world.
Everything that was produced was shared with neighbors willingly and with an eternal open hand.
Here people rejoiced for another day gone by, there was no gold in the minds of the people of the shire.
The hard work of the land bore fruit while life passed peacefully in calm hours.
Although there were certainly small defects in the people of the region, many times innocence along with good faith were things that shook Thorin in some way.
The days passed in each other's company, four seasons before the good news for the new couple.
An heir of Durin would arrive soon to brighten the home.
And so it was that one spring night the son of Thorin came to soften the iron heart.
Gandalf was present when the midwife delivered the newborn into the arms of his father.
Thorin smiled as he almost never allowed himself when he saw this perfect mixture of both in one being.
—Frodo— said the midwife, —Mr. Bilbo has named him Frodo.—
Such a name seemed appropriate to the creature, Thorin was only able to nod, enchanted by the angelic image that slept under the care of the cheerful father.
—In good time, blessed is the firstborn who is born with the drops of dew before dawn.— Gandalf greeted while Thorin took a seat in the armchair that his husband used to utilize.
—He's perfect.— The dwarf sighed, trying not to wake the baby.
The wizard approached, bending over the back of the chair to observe the child.
The reflection of the fireplace did not deceive the eye, a little hobbit slept with the expression of pure tranquility.
—Ah! He's a Baggins from head to toe.— The magician smiled when he saw the boy's features.
—It is, he inherited most of Bilbo's things.—
Thorin could tell by that unruly curly hair, that small frame, two apples for cheeks.
—I never believed that the prince of the Durin would be born outside the royal cradle but here he is, noble as the blood allows. Of course, as a friend of the family, let me tell you that I am very happy for both of you. I was afraid that Bilbo would want to spend the rest of his life alone. Now there are two big reasons not to be.— laughed the old man, sitting in the adjacent armchair.
—But Bilbo, he...— the spouse tried to say, looking from his shoulder.
—Although technically you are immediate family, you must respect the traditions of the region, there will be time to talk tomorrow when the sun comes through the window, let him rest. Let them both sleep.— the wizard barely spoke.
—I understand it was a complicated birth, I'm worried.— said the dwarf.
—Rejoice in the grace of your firstborn, do not fill your heart with bitterness. I sent crows to Erebor to announce the good news months ago, if my calculations are accurate you will receive a visit from some friends very soon.— declared Gandalf trying to calm the impatient husband.
Thorin accepted the comfort, directing his attention to the baby.
This sweet feeling that took over him was nothing more than the reflection of his own soul escaping in a smile that was impossible to diminish.
This was love, pure love.
The hours passed but the joy did not diminish.
"Welcome, my son. May the ancestors guide you and may each step you take bring you closer to the life of virtues to which you are destined to walk." Thorin thought, holding him gently.