Chapter Text
Bilbo was humming a tune, flowers clutched in his hand. More and more of his Took relatives filtered in through the wide door of his smial, making him terribly nervous. His grandfather, the thain has traveled far to be here on his mother's funeral and was now sitting next to him at the head of the table, shaking hands eagerly. Lady Yavanna seemed to have had mercy on him, as nobody dared but to look at him for a few seconds and utter a 'Greetings young man'. He'd have burst into tears if anybody offered condolences or somesuch.
Hobbits, whenever possible, had a feast. Even at a funeral. Before they decided to put the infamous Belladonna into the ground, the family held a days long celebration of her life. And celebrate they did, as she was the old Tooks very favorite daughter. Drunken aunties and uncles slept on Bag ends floors and the beds of guest rooms, drinking his late father's extensive wine collection dry. Two parents lost in a single year, yet Bilbo found himself cracking a smile every once in a while. Today however is not an easy day. Today he'll see his mother for the last time until they meet in the afterlife.
"Gramp. I think I'll go to my room for now."
"Nay. You can't go now, we're about to read the will. Just an hour more and then you can go." He patted the young lads shoulder. "You can do it."
"I don't want everyone seeing me cry." He pouted, looking up at his gramps through his golden curls, which he deliberately pulled down into his eyes.
"Damned be, go on lad, I'll send for you." Bilbo immediately bolted and hurried to his room through the tunnels, opening the door to his and his parents quarters with a glinting key. When his heavy door closed behind him, he broke down and hid under his blankets and pillows, afraid that someone would hear him despite the loud jeering coming from the livingroom.
He let his tears get soaked in his familiar smelling sheets. Just a week ago his mother would have been able to comfort him, but then if she was still alive he wouldn't need comforting would he? Between debilitating hiccups, he heard a few loud knocks at the front door, then the door opened and silence filled the spacious smial.
"Gandalf!" His keen ears picked up his gramps calling out to the visitor, then the celebration began anew. Bilbo felt sick, truth be told. Did they even care for her if they can just eat and drink when she's in a shroud just a few streets down, waiting to be put in the ground? "Oh the boy is not feeling well, he'll be ready in a while."
"Not by the fourth era, I wont." He muttered, eyes burning with rage too, now.
He heard footsteps approaching. Oh no, by lady Yavanna this can't be happening, please give me another five minutes!
"Bilbo, you have a special guest." An aunt called for him.
"Is it perhaps a wizard? Because I'm in need of a raising of the dead."
"Oh, no, Gandalf is not good at that kind of magic, he's more an expert of explosives as I recall. But anyway, he arrived with someone you might want to see."
"Whom."
"A certain young dwarf named Thorin, a'course!" Bilbo shot out of his bed and opened the door.
"Do I look proper?" He asked, wiping his tears.
"You look lovely my dear! Let me just-" She fussed with his messed up curls and straightened his necktie. "Go!" He ran back out to the livingroom and beheld his beau. Thorin the blacksmith apprentice. His spotty teenage beard was whipped into shape as much as it was possible and he held a bouquet of what? Belladonna flowers. It's steep, but they're fitting as the flowers are not for her, but for him.
"Young Master Baggins." He bowed. "I came as soon as I could to share in your burden. These are for you. "He then procured another bouquet from behind his back. Chrysanthemum. "And these for your mother."
Bilbo was too stunned to speak for a moment, he took the flowers and felt a suspicious about of eyes on his person. He looked back at the family gathering and everyone all or a sudden found their toes very interesting to study. With a dry mouth, red cheeks and wet eyes he softly said:"Let's get a room."
Before an adult could stop two unmarried youths from being alone, the old Took shot a glare at them to just let Bilbo be. Today of all days he should get to be alone without being judged.
When his door closed once again, he looked at Thorin up and down. "First of all, drop the 'young master' it's not like you're fooling anyone, they all know we fancy one another!" He smiled. "Secondly. Did you just pull thar bouquet out of your backside? I never knew dwarves could do that!"
Thorin chuckled. "Please, I'm just trying to be polite." Bilbo placed the flowers on his desk and went to hug his beau.
"I hadn't seen you in a while."
"Sorry. My apprenticeship has me busy this time of year. Lots of construction goes on with weather this nice, I've been making nails for days. My master understands the importance of a funeral so I could steal away a few days for the journey."
"Oh love." Bilbos eyes burned with tears yet again. Lucky for him, Thorin was here to wipe them away. "I can't thank you enough."
"My one deserves nothing less. And your mother has been nothing but kind to me, i wish the sword we sold her could have saved her." Bilbo covered his face with his hands before tucking himself into Thorins chest to not ruin his nice clothes. Did he travel in these? That's awfully thoughtful. He must have wanted to make a good first impression on the family.
"You rode all the way here in your good tunic and I don't even let you eat something, how rude of me." Bilbo pushed him away. Let's go join the feast!" He wiped his tears, pulled his hair into his eyes, and pulled his dwarf along with him. All eyes were suddenly on him again as he got an empty chair and put it right next to his and the old Tooks. It's a bold statement for sure, it clearly tells the whole gathering that he is very serious about his dwarf.
His cheerful relatives were very happy that he finally found someone he likes and resumed drinking in Belladonnas name. You see drinking at a funeral is like eating when you're pregnant, you do it for yourself and for another who sadly cannot do so for themselves. The quests were all eager to begin the true drinking that would take place after the burial.
The Thain rang his bell which he carried around on formal occasions, catching everyones attention. "It is now noon, it is time to read the will." He already had the parchment in his hand. Aunts and uncles and cousins and nephews and nieces were mentioned, one after the other. Belladonna left a little money and a keepsake to everyone, but hobbits cared very little about money. Or at least Bilbo didn't, because he didn't know any better. Were he of a poorer family, he'd want nothing more than to get his hands on this kind of wealth.
"To my son I leave the portion of the Baggins estate that my husband left me." Looks like she updated it after Bungo died. It was a grim reminder that she could go before her time. And she did. "Furthermore, I leave him my jewelry box that my mother left me, except for the pearl necklace and silver sing, which I leave to Lobelia Sackville Baggins, since she always wanted them."
She didn't wear them anyways. Neither would Bilbo. Lobelia would surely appreciate them a lot more than anyone else. She was smiling happily at the back of the table, surely her pockets were full of the good cutlery but Bilbo wasn't about to interrogate her in this mental state. He looked nervously around the room, waiting until he could finally say goodbye to his mum and not talk to anyone for weeks.
"To my friend Gandalf I leave whatever pipeweed I couldn't smoke myself." The old Took, along with most of the family, laughed heartily. The feasting resumed after all the possessions were distributed. Bilbo kept sitting with the keys and deed to bag end. He never could catch a glimpse at this Gandalf bloke, no matter where he looked. He's a man's height too, how does he do it?
A firm, warm hand was constantly around his own. Thorin didn't dare or want to leave him. He nervously looked around, afraid someone will come up and make his Bilbo bawl. Slowly the family gathering filtered out the door, putting on their hats and jackets. They walked in a long line to the cemetery, all holding flowers. All throughout the ceremony, Bilbo felt weirdly neutral. There's simply no way that that's his mother. She didn't look like herself. Granted that's probably because she's been dead for five days, but she also didn't look like a corpse either. Way too serene, and also not serene enough.
A bright red piece cotton was wrapped around her head and neck. It covered her eyes and mouth, Bilbo knew from experience that it was to keep her dignity even when she couldn't keep it herself. Thorin actually looked a lot more shaken up than him, he didn't like funerals, not one bit.
Down she went, into the soil, flowers were thrown upon her shrouded figure, then the dirt was piled on. Loving hands scattered seeds on top of her grave, they'll bloom when the time comes and the circle of life will go on.
"Are you alright?" Uttered Thorin when it was all over.
"I'm sure you understand exactly how I feel."
"Aye. My mother didn't even have a funeral. But this ought not be a pity party! Let's go have second lunch!" He placed a hand on Bilbos shoulder. Hopefully it was a comfort rather than a burden.
"I'm not hungry. I'll ask gramps if he'll mind us going for a walk."
Of course he didn't mind. This is exactly how Belladonna was with Bungo, how could he refuse! As the sun sunk lower on the sky and the heat of midday wore out, Bilbo lead Thorin to the back of the Bag end property to the well.
"You know they say if you sing a wish into this well and hear it echo, it comes true." Bilbo said. "It was here before my father built the smial."
"That's fascinating." Thorin sat by the edge of it on the old stone bricks. He beckoned Bilbo to follow, and in his impatience that the whole family seems to have, he pulled the hobbit into his lap instead. "Amralime, I'd like you to know that no matter what happens to you, I'll stand by you."
"Thank you. Tell me, Thorin, how long until I'll feel alright again?"
Thorin paused for a moment, this is not the sort of question you ask of a tween. Although he went through a lot of pain, he was not aged by it. Stunted, more like. Losing his mother and, well, his everything was a wound bigger than him. If at that moment you cut him open and looked at his soul, you'd only see blight on it, not a shred of it was untouched.
"I can't tell you, I'm not alright yet 'neither." He had a hand around Bilbos back, gently petting him.
"Can't say this is making me eager to pick my own sword up once again. She talked me into learning how to fight so I can go with her. I'll never in my hopefully long life leave the shire!" His voice cracked and he leaned unto Thorins shoulder to hide his tearing eyes.
"It's okay, I'll hold my own sword for the two of us!" Bilbo paused for a moment.
"That's easy to misunderstand." He smirked and took Thorins bristly cheeks in his palms.
"Forgive me." The dwarf said, face flushed red. Bilbo couldn't help but steal a kiss, his beau gets embarrassed so easily.
"There's very little I'd not forgive you for." Their love for each other burnt brighter than the pain of their losses and they decided to spend the night in the woods rather than at the celebration. The family gathering wasn't exactly looking for them either.
If they returned the next day with wrinkled clothes and twigs in their hair, the old Took certainly won't mind. In fact, he saw nothing! Absolutely nothing indeed! No tomfoolery or lollygagging to be seen, just two perfectly proper kidd who are behaving very nicely!
At the end, death is not that hard to accept. Belladonna was comfortable and remembered in a good light, maybe she's as good off as when she lived.
In Yavannas name, let her rest.