Actions

Work Header

'Respectable' Baggins?

Summary:

'Can you promise that I will come back?'
'No. And if you do, you will not be the same.'

 

Looking at his reflection in the looking glass of his father's study Bilbo couldn't help the mirthless laugh that bubbled from his lips.
"That's what I was afraid of."

_________________________________________

The unofficial prequel to Hero of Erebor.

Based upon what we see Bilbo arrive home to the Shire in, and my thoughts of what could have happened in between then and what we see him in at the beginning of LOTR.

Notes:

I know I said I was done with this series, but I totally lied. I got hit by an idea, and it fit nowhere else but here.
Kind of an angsty ball of word vomit, but I liked it enough to post at least.

Can be read as a stand alone, but I look at it as an unofficial prequel to Hero or Erebor.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

'Can you promise that I will come back?'
'No. And if you do, you will not be the same.'

Looking at his reflection in the looking glass of his father's study Bilbo couldn't help the mirthless laugh that bubbled from his lips.
"That's what I was afraid of." He murmured, hazel eyes slipping closed to avoid what he saw.

Gone was the chubby hobbit of so many years before, clad in fresh and bright jewel tones, never a stain on his trousers, or a button out of place.
In its place was a lithe and lean hobbit; emaciated, hr had heard whispered behind his back, sickly, was another those around found fondness for; of a much different stature. Body laced with tension, he stood straight, as though to relax would break him. Clad in Dwarven styled finery; their muted colours and constricting layers a far cry from his native culture; he could admit; if only to himself; gone was Bilbo Baggins, the respectable bachelor in the Shire. He had fled, some point between the embrace on the Carrock, and the final embrace as Thorin lay in his arms.

What replaced Respectable Baggins, was what his kith and kin could only refer to as 'Mad Baggins'. A dwarf in all but skin. He was no more the respected head of his family. While still head of the Baggins clan, he was much more than that. He was an adventurer, Riddle-maker, Luck-wearer. Friend of elves and bears in kind.

But the titles he clung to most, were husband, and widow.

For along the way, somehow he had ceased to be Bilbo Baggins, eccentric bachelor of the Shire, and became Bilbo Baggins, husband of the late king of Erebor, widowed faint few hours after wed.

Trying to fit back into the role of 'respectable bachelor' had at first been moderately successful. Until his wanderlust took hold, and he once more dawned his Dwarven tunics and Sting, and set out, returning many months later, new scars to show, and an elven maiden in tow. Staying only a few scarce days she lit the smial with laughter once more, though her visit ended solemnly. Once again he gave 'respectable Baggins' a chance. It wasn't long before he realized he was bound to the title 'Mad Baggins' and tragedy seemed to follow in his wake.

This time claiming his cousins, though by some luck, their faunt was spared. Deciding he was finished with the pretense of respectability he had once more found the garments specifically designed and painstakingly made for him, dawning them once more.

Pulling at the mittens Ori had painstakingly knit just before he had set out to return home he took a breath. What good did it do, to stand and stare at his reflection as though he could change any of it; as though he would /want/ to change any of it.
There was nothing he would change; beyond that his husband were beside him, and his cousins still lived; beyond one last new title.
Looking to his round door he placed a hand on the knob, feeling his pulse rise in anticipation of but another adventure.
Stepping out of his home once more, he accepted the wailing bundle Rorimac Brandybuck handed him; stepped into the last title that would hold any meaning to him; the last of the promises Thorin had asked of him to fulfill.

Looking at the wailing faunt; no more than a few years old and already an orphan; he felt all the air in his lungs flee when he met sapphire eyes so similar to Thorin's he felt tears of his own well up. Leaning down he gently bumped his nose against the tiny button like one the faunt possessed, and the title of 'Father' suddenly felt like home.

Barely casting a glance back to his cousin he disappeared behind his green door, the carved symbol still glowing in the corner, telling of his adventure to any who dared to listen.

He would give respectability one final attempt; many years later; doomed to fail as all had before it. In the end, though he would pack away all of his Dwarven finery and remain in colourful coats of his home, he was forever changed. Was forever unrespectable Mad Baggins, with the heart of a Dwarven king beating inside of a small hobbit form.

But for now, for now he was content in the culture of his hearts home, filling his faunts heart with the only wealth he felt needed; knowledge, acceptance, and above all love.

Notes:

I know Frodo is far too young. But it flowed better to me to do it how I did.

Series this work belongs to: