Chapter Text
Day 1
It had been about 30 years now, since the last time Balin accompanied Gandalf on one of his regular visits to the Shire. Gandalf himself would typically come to Bilbo’s every few months to chat and indulge in some tea or baked goods so long as he was able. It had become somewhat of a regular occurrence for the Wizard, given he had the ability and freedom to move around as he pleased in a more nomadic lifestyle.
But with Balin, Bilbo knew he could not come to Bag End as quickly nor as easily as Gandalf could. For it was a long journey that he himself was all too familiar with. The road from The Mountain to his home was no doubt friendlier now than it had been when he had crossed it, but it did not make it any less long or arduous, especially for a Dwarf as busy as Balin. He had continued to fulfill his duties just as before as both a close friend and noble advisor to the current King, and the busy affairs of the prosperous Kingdom following its restoration period kept him quite busy, so when he was able to make a visit himself or alongside Gandalf, then it was a very special occasion indeed.
Which was why Bilbo was currently in his kitchen, preparing an array of dishes and baked goods. His two old friends were set to arrive together this afternoon for a long awaited visit. He bustled between the pantry and his kitchen with excitement, gathering a plethora of ingredients for tonight's supper, and picking the most delicious spreads for afternoon tea before taking the fine tableware from the cupboard.
He hummed to himself for a while as he prepared a few trays of honey milk bread and assembled little sandwiches, but it wasn’t long until he heard the sound of the front door open and little hobbit footsteps coming closer.
“Frodo! You’re back. How was your excursion to the market earlier today with Samwise?” Wiping his hands, he looked to his nephew. Frodo’s dark hair curled wildly with a few wooden sticks poking out from beneath, and the brown trousers and white shirt he wore were disheveled and covered in dirt.
“Great! Although, the book I had been looking for wasn’t there. The bookshop owner didn’t set up this week, but I did discover a book about the language of birds in the shire! Mr. Twindill was kind enough to lend it to me!” Frodo radiated with a happy-go-lucky demeanor as he just smiled at his uncle, completely unconcerned, or perhaps unaware, with the state of himself.
“Ah! Good to hear it! But Frodo, my dear boy, what happened to you?”.
“What do you mean?” He looked at Bilbo as if he had no idea what he meant.
“What I mean is, how did you get all dirty? Did you get hurt?” He was as concerned as any parental figure, but was far more amused at the tween, and was waiting to hear about the harmless antics he had gotten up to.
“Oh! No, no not at all. We were rolling down the hill for some fun before returning home. I’m much faster than Sam!” Frodo laughed and fixed the strap of his trousers that had fallen loose past his shoulder.
Bilbo laughed fondly. “Well, don’t forget that Gandalf is coming to visit this afternoon, and my good friend Balin is joining him. I have to introduce you two. So, go on ahead and get changed and fix your hair before they arrive. It should be a fun visit.”
Frodo beamed with excitement at the news. “Gandalf! And Balin! I remember hearing about him in your stories”. Appearing to think to himself, he paused briefly. “I’ve never met a dwarf before. I’ll go clean up!” He turned to walk down the hall and into his room.
Bilbo returned to his work in the kitchen and soon the comforting aroma of buttery bread and herbal tea filled the air. He opened the circular window in the kitchen. Spring had just sprung, prolonging the light of the sun and setting the tulips and primrose in the front garden into full bloom. The late afternoon sun shined bright, sparkling in the reflection of the river in the distance and peppering the grassy hills with honey gold light. It wouldn’t be long at all until their estimated arrival.
He set out a small vase of yellow tulips near the entrance and onto the table and remembered their first visit fondly. It had been seven years after their quest when Balin accompanied Gandalf, and they laughed and joked just like old times. As if no time had passed at all. They were all as close as family of course, but Bilbo had become particularly close with the eldest dwarf of the company. He found he could confide in Balin about personal or private matters, and he would give honest advice. In a way, he found a sense of comfort and safety in his company. The fact that he was an old warrior who had witnessed much more than the average dwarrow would, perhaps twice or even thrice over, equipped him with keen insights. He had dearly hoped the others would somehow find themselves near Bag End and stop by, but knew deep down that it would be quite unlikely. He felt very grateful that Balin had been able to make it over.
At that time his two guests had talked of current affairs and happenings beyond the Shire, and Balin had updated Bilbo on how life under the Mountain had been coming along. He looked forward to the information they shared. It allowed him to feel connected to the world outside and to his close friends in the Mountain. He pondered such thoughts of their visit and of his distant friends, which easily ignited feelings of nostalgia in the hobbit’s chest. But then Bilbo felt his chest squeeze and the muscles tighten to restrict the breath in his throat. He shook his head to push the feeling aside and moved to distract himself by filling the kettle and placing it on the fire. This always happened when he began to dwell on the past. On his emotions. It was all he could do to brush them off or distract himself because, after all, he could not escape the reality of his sorrow and the desire to see his old companions. Even after all these years. He wanted to chastise himself for it just as much as he wanted to console himself.
As if on cue, a knock thudded at the door, removing Bilbo from his internal thoughts. The two guests waited outside while Bilbo put the odd ends away and made his way to the door, opening it with a great smile.
“Gandalf and Balin, my dear friends! Just as expected. Come in, come in.” With a gesture towards the inside of his home, he turned slightly to the side. “You’re just in time for afternoon tea.”
Gandalf stood tall - same as always, looking down at Bilbo with a small smile from beneath his gray beard. Balin stood to his side, dressed in deep red with maroon trim decorated with golden embroidery, his every-growing white beard curling down longer in length.
“Eyy! Bilbo! Long time no see, laddie!” Balin exclaimed. He beamed at his old friend, and stepped into the hall to give Bilbo a hug with both arms and a strong but friendly pat on the back. “Good to see ya’.”
“Very good indeed! And it seems you haven’t aged a day.” Bilbo said.
A familiar hearty laugh left Balin. “Oh, my beard may be whiter, and my nose larger, but you can bet I’m still as sharp as ever.”
Gandalf stepped in behind their greeting, crouching down under the doorway nearly half his size. He watched the two, enjoying the pleasant scene before him. “What a fine Spring day to reunite with old friends.” He chimed in with a booming voice from above.
“Your journey was safe and without much trouble I hope.” Bilbo asked.
“Yes, it was quite alright, besides the odd bit of trouble. We made our way through Rivendell, and I actually had a brief visit with Beorn and his son before meeting with Balin, but we shall talk more of that later.” Bilbo nodded and Gandalf glanced around, checking for the other household member. “Where, may I ask, is your new heir to Bag End?”
“Oh, Aye. Got your letter tellin’ me all about him. Been looking forward to meeting the wee lad you’ve taken under yer’ wing.” Balin added.
“Ah!” Bilbo clapped his hands together in anticipation, ‘Yes, Frodo. Excuse me for a moment while I let him know you’re here.”
With the turn of his heel, he turned away from the entrance, and soon returned with the small young Hobbit at his side, a hand on his shoulder and a proud smile on his face.
There was much to appreciate in Bilbo's excitement, for introducing a new family member sparked a different sense of unexplainable joy. But as it was, underneath Bilbo’s happiness and light-hearted smile, he worked to ignore the small feeling of uncertainty when it came to bringing Frodo out into the open for audiences beyond the Shire. Bilbo was aware of the harmlessness of it all, having anticipated his meeting Balin, and having already introduced Frodo to practically everyone else he knew, but couldn’t help but feel nervous in his heart.
“Gandalf!” Frodo dashed out to give Gandalf a hug. “You’re back!”
The wizard, amused by the boy’s fondness and innocent glee, kneeled down to meet his reach.
When Frodo stood tall again after their greeting, he took notice of the other guest, and offered him a slightly timid but gentle smile.
In a warm tone, Bilbo initiated the introduction as he positioned himself between the two.
“Frodo, my dear boy, I’d like to introduce you to Balin, son of Fundin. He’s a very good friend of mine, as you know.”
The hobbit’s blue eyes took in the dwarf’s appearance with a sense of awe and wonder while Bilbo continued. A clean ivory shirt and a rich green pair of trousers replaced the young boy’s brown pair, and his wild curls were a bit more tamed and stick-free.
“Balin, this is my nephew, Mr. Frodo Baggins. Of all my numerous relations he has by far shown exceptional promise. Now, earlier this year he has moved in here with me in Bag End as I’m sure I’ve mentioned.” He said, face gleaming proud.
It went quiet for a moment when Balin didn’t immediately respond. He studied the boy before him without a word, appearing to be stuck in thought, observing the dark brown hair which nearly mimicked black, the striking blue eyes that lit up earnestly, the light blush atop the cheeks of his clear skin, and the curved hobbit ears that poked out to the side, just as Bilbo’s did. The expression Balin wore gave nothing away as to what his thoughts contained; however, it was clear the boy’s features were reminiscent of another young boy he once watched over. A noble and fierce blue eyed young prince. He was unexpectedly surprised at the similarities between the two, and it reminded him of very fond but distant memories that had eluded him for many years.
With an intentionally careful look he regained eye contact with Bilbo, and in their wordless exchange they understood each other. He understood his friend’s decision to raise Frodo, and he recognized their familial relationship to be a wonderful blessing, that, in many ways, will surely work wonders for the both of them in ways untold. A gentle smile grew on his face, and he gave Bilbo a knowing look laced with reassurance. Then followed it with a low bow, one arm circling in front of his beard. “Balin, at your service, young lad.” Fascination danced in Frodo’s eyes at his first ever dwarven greeting.
“And I am Gandalf the Grey.“ Gandalf said jokingly to Frodo, laughing to himself from his place of observation.
“No need to tell us twice!” Frodo said back.
“I must say, the lad’s got fierce eyes, blue as sapphires, and a strong will no doubt.” Balin continued. “Now, I’ve been waitin' to meet ya', Frodo. I've got many stories to tell about yer’ uncle”, he told the boy, wrapping an arm around his shoulder like an already familiar family member.
Bilbo shook his head and urged them into the kitchen. “Come, come. Let us enjoy some afternoon tea after your long day’s journey. I'll have you know I brewed some of my special herbal blend!" He chuckled, “And I’d like to hear these stories myself!”
That afternoon they talked and laughed and ate merrily in each other’s company, and continued to do so well through supper accompanied by plenty of ale and red wine, telling stories to Frodo of past adventures and of Bilbo’s bravery through orc infested lands, dragon-filled dens, and dark winding forests. Late into the night they recalled and reminisced about old times, and after Frodo reluctantly retired to bed with tales fresh in his mind, the three continued on for a short while in the space of the parlour next to the fire.
The topic of discussion changed to their trip to the Shire; of their meetings in Rivendell and of Beorn’s activities as chief, and then to recent happenings and news across the lands, mainly told by Gandalf. There was hardly much commotion to speak of in the Shire aside from the occasional passing folk in the outer parts, so Bilbo found himself talking of past midsummer festivals, of Frodo, and of what he had busied himself with since he had last seen them, but not long after, the day caught up with them and they too retired to bed in good spirits. Bilbo returned to his room and the small flickering of the fire continued to keep his home warm through the night.