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Chapter Text

Bilbo stared in wonder at the small bundle that wiggled in her arms.

“Beautiful,” she whispered as she ran her fingers over the soft mop of black curls covering the newborn babes head.

“You are beautiful. You are safe. And you are loved.” She whispered to the child as he yawned and struggled to open his eyes.

“He’s a healthy lad,” a deep voice informed her gently, “considering all things.”

“He’s perfect.” She replied as she kissed the top of the babe’s head.

“People will still be able to tell that he is different.” The voice reminded her gently.

“I am different; at least I am now, so they should expect nothing less of my son.” She replied firmly, giving the owner of the voice a hard look causing him to chuckle.

“Yes, you are,” He agreed, “but then, you always were. What shall you call him?”

Bilbo hesitated as she looked back down at her child.

This question had been eating at her for months; from the moment she discovered she was carrying him.

“I feel like I have no right.” She admitted softly.

“No right? To name your own child? He is your son, Billanna.”

“But he’s not just mine, is he now?”

“No, he is not. But his father made his choice and will have to live with it. Just as your son will live with the name that you give him.”

“He doesn’t even know.”

“Do you want him to?”

Once more Bilbo hesitated. She did… and she didn’t.

She feared what he would do if he discovered the child but, a part of her hoped that he would forgive her and that someday they could become a family, the family she never before realised that she wanted until the moment she held her son in her arms.

She shook her head.

“It’s too late now.” She sighed, “And I doubt him discovering the babe will change anything between us. He might simply snatch him away and…”

“Billanna.” She tries not to cringe as he calls her by her birth name. Only one other in their old company knew it besides him, and it hurt now to hear it spoken from anyone’s lips that were not his.

“Bilbo.” He says as if he’s read her thoughts and maybe he has for who truly knows the true extent of a Wizards power.

“Please don’t tell him, Gandalf.” The hobbit begged as she hugged her newborn child close to her chest.

The old, wise wizard looked down at her from his great height, a height that looked to be greater than it really was with him being cramped into her hobbit-size bedroom.

“Not my place to tell.” Was all he said in reply as Bilbo felt a sense of relief fill her.

She had been worried that Gandalf might go to the King under the Mountain and inform him of her condition. A silly worry really, considering how the wizard was currently feeling towards the Dwarf King. These unfriendly feelings had only grown upon the discovering that she was carrying said Dwarf King’s child.

She had feared that Gandalf’s feelings of unfriendliness towards the Dwarf King would transfer over to her as well upon the discovering of her pregnancy, but thankfully they hadn’t.

Yes, he had become even angrier with the Dwarf King for casting her aside, but he never directed his anger or annoyance towards her. He had even decided to stay with her, here in the Shire, until her child was born when previously he had meant to only see her home before heading back out into the wildness of the world.

“Thank you.” She mumbles before turning her attention back to her son.

“Durin’s line is strong.” Gandalf comments quietly as he comes to take a better look of the child.

“Do you think he’ll look more like a dwarf than a hobbit?” Bilbo asks as she runs a finger over a slightly pointed ear shell.

“I do not know. A good mixture of both, I should think, going by how he looks now.” Gandalf replied.

“I don’t really care,” she admits, “but I just fear that if he looks more dwarf than hobbit he’ll…”

“Be treated differently? My dear hobbit, your lad here would have been treated differently even if you had married that oaf of a Sackville-Baggins, simply because you yourself are a very different and unique hobbit yourself.”

“Yes, but if I had married that Sackville-Baggins oaf, this child would have been born a hobbit, instead of…” She looks up at the wizard, hopeless in trying to think of what her child actually was.

“A unique dwarf/hobbit child? Yes, I know, but what I mean to say is, people would still have looked at him strangely even if he was born a healthy hobbit lad for he is the son of a mother who disappeared the day of her wedding to go off on an adventure across half of Middle-Earth.”

“Not that anyone cares about that.” Bilbo sighed, “They only care about how I came to be with child and tut-ter over the fact that I won’t tell anyone who the father is or where he is. I’m sure the Sackville-Baggins have started all kinds of nasty rumours. They’re still quite upset with me for being alive and forcing them out the house.”

“And for your continual refusal to marry their oaf of a son.”

“I couldn’t. Not now.” She whispered sadly.

“At least your father isn’t too disappointed anymore.”

“No,” she agreed with a smile. “I suppose we should go and introduce this fine young lad to his grandfather shouldn’t we?”

“If you are feeling up for it.” The wizard replied, helping the hobbit lass out of her bed, catching her gently as she swayed for a moment. Once she had caught her balance, she smiled down at her little lad as she cuddled him closer to her chest she marched from her bedroom

Bungo Baggins had taken his daughter’s sudden return and obvious pregnancy fairly well for a hobbit suffering with a strong case of mind sickness.

He had welcomed his daughter back with open arms and was quite excited with the prospect of being a Grandfather. Even to a child who had no father in sight and was conceived out of wedlock while its mother was miles and miles away from home on an adventure that she refused to speak much about.

Bungo was awake when Bilbo gently knocked on his bedroom door.

“Is he here than?” the old hobbit asked eagerly, trying to pull himself upright and free of his bed covers.

“Yes Papa. Here he is.” Bilbo said with a wide smile as she carefully moved into her father’s room. Once she was by his bed, she gently set her child into his grandfather’s waiting arms.

“Hmph,” her father said after a few moments of giving the newborn child a thorough looking over, “doesn’t take much after us now does he?” he ran his fingers over the babes black curls.

“He might with time. He’s only just been born, Papa.” Bilbo replied with a weak laugh. If her mind-ill papa could see the differences in her child than everyone else in the Shire would.

And not just in the Shire, a voice whispered from the back of her mind, causing her to shudder.

“He’s eyes are very blue. Do you think they will remain this way?” Her papa asked as she carefully settled herself down on to the bed beside him.

“I don’t know Papa.”

“Hmph. He’s a handsome lad. Has our nose.” Bilbo laughed a true laugh at this, smiling gently as she touched her tiny son’s button nose.

Her son wiggles in her father’s arms, casting his brilliant blue eyes at her.

Sapphires, she thought dumbly as she stared back at the child, unable to break eye contact with her child.

Sapphire blue, just like… just like his father.

No, she shook her head, not sapphires. His eyes are like the sky or a clear pool of water, not those pretty blue gems. He’ll never see a sapphire so I can never compare he’s eyes to one. He’ll never know, never see… He won’t, not ever. He will never…

She fought back tears and instead forced herself to smile at her baby.

“Here you are, back to your mama you go.” Her father said handing back his sleeping grandchild to his mother. “You should get some sleep yourself my dear. You should have waited till morning to show me this little fellow, though,” he took one of the tiny hands within his own; “I am pleased you showed me him tonight.”

Bilbo smiled at her father as she carefully moved to her feet, her body aching noticeably now with the after-pains of childbirth. Sleep certainly did seem like a nice idea.

“Good night Papa. Sleep well.”

“Same to you my dearest. Same to you and little Frodo.”

“Frodo?” Bilbo questioned, but her father had already dropped off into a sudden sleep.

“Frodo?” She whispered to her son as she gently closed her father’s door.

“A fine name,” Gandalf said suddenly looming over her and her child. “Your father’s suggestion?”

“Yes, yes it was.” She nodds before looking back down at her lad.

“Frodo?” She rolled the name over her tongue. It was a fine hobbit name, but… “Is that your name?” The baby squirmed in her arms.

“Is that a yes?” Bilbo asked looking up at Gandalf, hoping he would help her in this matter. She had no idea how Dwarves went about naming their children. It was one of the few topics that wasn’t revealed to her fully by one of her dwarf companions. Either because it had never come up or simply because she wasn’t privy to the information, she wasn’t sure and it wasn’t as if she could ask any of them now.

Whatever the reason, she wasn’t at all sure how to proceed with naming her son, not to mention the sense of guilt she felt twisting in her gut.

“I think so.” Gandalf said, and Bilbo felt herself relax, despite herself.

“Frodo it is then.” She said with a smile.

She had always been fond of the name – she was surprised her father had remembered actually as she had only mentioned once or twice when she was a much younger and a less world-weary hobbit lass that if she were ever to marry and have children, she would name her first-born son Frodo – and while she was sure a certain Dwarf would have a word or two – more like two dozen – to say about the name, she was content with it, for now at least.

Though a part of her felt as if she was missing something, something important about her child but she can’t for the life of her think what it is.

“I will watch him while you sleep.” The wizard said, and after a moment’s hesitation, Bilbo handed her child over to him. She wasn’t sure why the wizard wanted to keep watch over her child, but from the look on his face she saw that there was nothing to worry about, he seemed to be only curious.

“Thank you. You’ll come and get me if he needs me?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, um. Well, good night then” She hesitated a moment longer before taking herself off to her bedroom, pleasantly surprised to find that her bed had been laid with new sheets and that room had been cleansed of the smell of blood and sweat.

She all but fell onto her bed, falling immediately into a deep sleep, her dreams filled with images of her child being born in a very different place, across mountain ranges and vast forest and a lake as large as a small sea, in a room deep within a great, lone mountain. In this place, she is still loved by the one she loves most in the world… well, second most in the world now, their son has pushed his way to the forefront of her heart.

She dreams of his proud smile as he holds their child in his arms, showing him off to the rest of their company. He would have loved their child, for all his differences, she was sure of it. They all would have, all of them. But none of them would ever know of him, not now. And he would never know them.

She lets out a little sob in her sleep before tossing to her other side, her dreams melting into sweet nothingness.

In the front room, standing in the light of a thin new moon was Gandalf, holding the small babe in his arms, bathed in the light of the moon, a weather-worn finger running over the strange birth mark on the babe’s tiny shoulder.

“So, you have finally returned,” the old wizard said softly, “Durin the Deathless. An interesting life you’ve allowed yourself to be born into.”

Chapter Text

Bofur walked through the great halls of Erebor with a heavy heart. It was Durin’s day, a day of celebration; the farewelling of an old year and the welcoming of a new one.

He should be enjoying himself and yet, he is not. He’s heart is too heavy to muster any feelings of true joy. Which is selfish of him, he knows for there are many things he should be joyful over, many things he should be thankful for.

He is home once more; he has his brother back by his side and a good group of loyal friends all around him. He has all the reasons in the world to be happy, but…

He lets his mind wander back to a year prior, to a very different Durin’s day when a small, golden brown haired lass had jumped up and down excitedly for she had just figured out the puzzle behind the mystery of the secret door.

She had been so pleased and proud of herself as she ordered them all to their feet, bossing around their King to hurry and to get his key out for there wasn’t much time.

Bofur smiled slightly at the memory.

It was one of the few last good ones he had of her with the rest of the company before everything turned to madness and chaos.

She had done so much for them, saved them countless times and yet with one mistake – alright, so granted it was a rather large and rather grievous mistake – they had cast her aside, cast her out.

The hurt and betrayal in her dark, earthy brown eyes with the final look she sends them before she disappears into the camp of the men and elves, still haunts him. Haunts all of them he is sure for that was the last time that any of them saw her. The battle had come shortly afterwards and they all barely made it out alive.

They thought that they had been at their lowest then, with their King gravely injured, along with his two heirs. Little had they known that worst was to come.

It was a day or so after the battle had finished and those who were not so grievously injured has started to sort through the dead on the battlefield, searching for possible survivors and lost friends.

Their group had remained behind by Thorin, Fili and Kili’s side as they were thirteen in number and had no one to search for. Or so they thought.

It was late evening when a dirty and blood-stained Gandalf came striding into their tent, demanding to know where exactly his burglar was.

At first, Bofur is ashamed to admit how uncooperative they were and all he can say in their defence was that they were tired. So very, very tired. From their long journey to the mountain, from the betrayal within their own company, from the battle and from their injuries, old and new.

Many of them were in a great deal of pain and what did they care for the little hobbit who had betrayed them when they were dealing with such great pain.

Gandalf hadn’t liked this of course. He called them a great many names in languages they knew and many they didn’t.

He was so angry and so very worried that they finally offered what little help they could. They hadn’t seen her since she had left them, they informed him as one voice before one of them, he thinks Ori, asks the wizard why he asked, hadn’t he sent her back to Laketown or what remained of it before the battle had begun?

The Wizard had mournfully shaken his grey head and informed them that shortly after the battle had begun their burglar had gotten the notion into her head that she must do something to help, anything to help and had run into the battle with her little blade glowing as blue as starlight, paying no heed to Gandalf’s calls for her to return to his side.

It was then that members of the company started to remember odd occurrences happening during the battle, rocks seemly being thrown out of nowhere striking down goblins and wargs alike when they came to close to any of them. The high pitch whistles cutting through the battle, warning them of Azog’s coming. She had been quite proud of her whistle and had used the skill a number of times during their journey. So many times in fact that it seems silly now that they hadn’t recognised the sound of it when they heard it, even if was in the midst of a battle for their lives, their home and their gold.

The last time, Gandalf informs them once their guts were filled with guilt and fear for the smallest member of their company, that anyone had heard what might have been her was just before the Eagles had arrived, crying something along the lines of, ‘The Eagles! The Eagles! The Eagles are coming!’ before the cry was cut short.

None who had apparently heard her, could remembered exactly where in the battlefield they had heard her voice and now, a day and half later, the old wizard was very worried and had been hoping that “she may have found her way back to you lot”.

But of course, she obviously hadn’t and so now the wizard was very, very worried. So worried he was in fact that he quite forgot to scold them further for casting her out and starting this whole mess.

Thorin, who had been silent up until this point, croaked, “You should have sent her back.”

Gandalf had glared back at him, snapping, “You should never have cast her out, never should have started this whole business in the first place.”

Thorin as injured as he was, still managed to glare with all his kingly wrath as he snarled, “You should never have brought her along to begin with.”

The old wizard simply stared at him for a moment before nodding his head slowly in agreement.

“You are right, I shouldn’t have. Her skills and intelligence were clearly wasted on you all and I should have allowed you to meet your fates with the trolls and goblins, the spiders and elves and lastly the dragon or have you already forgotten that it was she who saved you all from untimely deaths. And it is also because of she that you are not being siege at this very moment by the men and elves who still stand. Because she showed humbleness and strength, qualities that were admired by both men and elves alike, unlike you Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror. She was trying to save you once again and instead of seeing that, lost you were in your hunger for gold that it blinded you to her love and desire to protect and save you once again and so that in the end you only saw her betrayal. You are right Thorin son of Thrain, I should never have brought her along on this quest and if she is dead, be it on your head, for it will be her life that you will be living.”

And with that the wizard had disappeared and they weren’t to see him again, for he steered clear of all of them until the day he left in a great hurry on a white steed with Beorn, in his huge bear form, by his side, galloping back towards the ruins of Laketown.

They had not seen him since.

Or her for that matter.

They never did find her. Her blue coat that she had been give when her red one was torn and battered beyond repair, was found and given to them once Gandalf had left.

It was barely recognisable as hers, the once dark blue fabric now stained almost black with blood, the thick cloth ripped and torn. None of them wished to think much of the fate of its owner, the state of the coat speaking all too clearly of how the hobbit had spent her final moments.

It was another couple of days after the coat had been found and Gandalf had left that any of them remembered about the lass’s magic ring.

“She went into the battle invisible.” He had excitedly whispered one night around a camp fire, careful to keep his voice down so as to not wake the resting king, “she might have snuck away before it ended.”

“Leaving her coat behind to be bloodied and torn?” Dwalin replied with a snort, thrusting a stick sharply into the flames.

“She never liked it,” Ori had pipped up, “she always said it was too long and heavy for her. It probably got in her way during the battle and she took it off.”

They actually got quite excited when they thought of this, well most of them at least.

“So where is she then?” Gloin had growled, “Where is she? Buggered off, instead of coming back and facing her…”

“Face her what?” he had asked as he felt his temper rise, a rare thing for him but he had discovered that he had quite temper over those few days and it had been about to boil over, “her judgement? Her trial? Why? Why would she come back for that? She has already been cast out. Why would she return? Even if she wanted to, how would she know she wouldn’t be facing as you are suggesting we should do to her, hmmm?”

“You were always too soft on her laddie,” Gloin rumbled, but his dark eyes were filled with some akin to shame.

“And you were always too hard on her! She tried her best, maybe not right from the start but she did try. As Gandalf said, we would have been dead several times over if it wasn’t for her! One mistake, just one and we all turn our backs on her, threw her out even though she was only doing what she thought was best for the company. And now she’s gone…” possibly forever.

He had blinked back angry, grief filled tears and had stormed out of the tent, ignoring the cries for him to come back.

It was stupid; he knew that, to be still trying to search for her after so many days after the battle.

Even if she had survived the battle there was a good chance that she had been hurt during it and had been lying somewhere, unseen because of her magic ring, being missed constantly and too weak to cry out for help and without help, infection from her injuries would have spread within her tiny body.

It wouldn’t have taken long, she was so small after all, maybe a day or two for the infection to make its away all around her system and then…

He had shoved his fists into his face as he kneels down upon the battlefield and allows himself to sob. Even if she had survived the battle, she was probably long dead from her wounds.

That is why Gandalf left in such a hurry, he had thought dully, he knew she was gone and so saw no point in remaining here any longer.

His smile seemed to have died after the Battle of the Five Armies. Many thought it was due to the ghastly injury he had received during the battle, a great wound that had cut its way across his face, taking a great chunk of his nose with it. But that hadn’t been it, that hadn’t been what killed his smile but he lets them all think that. It’s easier that way and doesn’t bring an angry and guilt-ridden - no matter what he says, anyone with half a brain can tell that the King under the Mountain is guilty with how he dealt with the situation with his burglar. The only good thing that came out of the whole affair was that the insanity that had seized him hasn’t been seen since her leaving - King down upon his head.

He knows that she won’t be happy with him, that she’ll shake her golden brown curls and say that he is being incredibly silly and that she doesn’t want him to be sad over her, for him to lose his smile because of her.

She would most likely tell him to be happy, he is home and where he belongs with his brother and cousin and all his friends, together and safe.

He knew what he would say to her in return; that yes he was home and back in the place where he belongs with his family and friends, safe and sound, but she wasn’t there with them. Nor was she at her home, where she belonged and that, that was what made all the difference.

She had been taken, her life stolen from her because of thirteen stubborn dwarves, all of whom had had the inability to see sense when it was looking them all right in the face.

She was dead because of them, never to see her home, her books, her armchair or her garden again.

She had a family too, a large one at that. A family who had loved her and whom she loved dearly in return. She had a father who was probably still waiting for her return, unless Gandalf had returned to the Shire to deliver the news of her passing himself. She had cousins whom she had adored, spoken fondly of, loving them all as if they were her very own, aunts and uncles and a whole extended family as well.

She had also had her husband-to-be waiting for her, he remembered with a start. He knew that they hadn’t been close – that was why she had come after them on this mad adventure on the day of her wedding – but he can’t help but think how terrible it would be, waiting for your bride-to-be, not knowing where she had gone or if she was ever to return.

Bofur’s depressing thoughts had led his weary body far away from the celebrations and down into the hall that had once been Smaug’s bedroom as Bilbo had lightly called it – she had received several very unamused looks for that comment but she had been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice.

He looked around, still feeling the same wariness and fear that had churned away in his gut the first time he walked into this hall.

It was empty now; all the treasure within it had long since been moved out of the hall and into different locations throughout the great mountain. No one minded though.

No one liked coming to this hall, let alone enter it by themselves. It still reeked of dragon no matter how many times it was cleaned and so it was abandon.

He settled himself against the doorway of the hall, took out his pipe and started to smoke. He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there before his cousin finally found him, grunting and grumbling in Khuzdul, patting and tugging on his arm.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming, I’m coming. I did wonder how long it would take for me to be missed.”

Bifur grunted at him, looking extremely unhappy with him but then most people were now a days.

The two cousins slowly made their way back towards the celebrations, their way being lit with more and more torches as they moved closer to Dwalven civilisation.

His feet grew heavier with each step he took, his head hanging low and it was only with Bifur steering that he didn’t crashing into a wall.

They had reached the main entrance hall when Bofur felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Where have you been? And why didn’t you take me with you?”

Bofur shook his head in slight amusement,

“Because laddie, you are a prince and your uncle would notice your absence at the celebration. Everyone would notice your absence from the celebration.”

The young dwarf snorted, his dark brown eyes filled with anger and sadness. He wanted to be here even less than Bofur himself did, if that was possible.

The young dwarf lad had been at odds with his family, mainly he uncle for almost a year now and spent a great deal of his time by himself, exploring the mountain and surrounding lands.

He said he was doing it to better understand his people and to come up with strategies to better protect the mountain if another attack like the Battle of Five Armies were to ever occur again.

Most people swallowed these words for it was easier to just pretend that the youngest prince simply had itchy feet and couldn’t settle down than it was to accept the fact that the boy wanted almost nothing to do with his uncle and was trying to stay as far away from him as he possibly could.

The only reason he was present at this celebration, Bofur suspected was because of Fili. Fili had left a little over a week ago with a small guard to track down his little brother and bring – dragged him more likely – him back to the mountain for this night.

Bofur suspected that the young prince in front of him would be gone again in the morning and it was on the tip of his tongue to ask if he could possibly join him on his next wandering.

He bit down hard upon his tongue to stop himself from asking.

He was home, had his brother and cousin to take care of, he couldn’t just disappear into the blue with the youngest Durin prince simply because he wasn’t coping with his grief. It’d be far too selfish of him to do such a thing.

But… it certainly was tempting.

“I don’t care about them.” The younger dwarf was muttering. “I only came back because Fili asked me to and because I knew I would be able to see the company again.” For a moment his eyes burned fiercely before the fire with them burned itself out in a matter of seconds.

“Well,” Bofur said, clapping the young dwarf on the shoulder, “we’re glad you’re back even if it is only for tonight, laddie. We’ve missed you something terrible, especially your brother and mother.” He didn’t push it and add ‘and your uncle’ for he knew the dwarf prince would not respond well to that.

The Dwarf prince nodded.

“Yes, I know. I’ve missed you all too.” Bofur wondered if the King was included in the people that Kili had missed. He was sure that he was. Kili didn’t really hate his uncle; he simply didn’t like him very much anymore.

The three dwarves walked into the great Feasting Hall, where numerous tables, all filled with rowdy dwarves, were set all around the hall.

The trio walked through the throng of noise, dodging the food being hurled about the room and made their way to the head table set up at the opposite end of the hall, where the rest of their company sat along with important guest, such a Dain Ironfoot who was sitting next Thorin and whom he was having deep conversation with.

Kili dragged himself over to sit with his mother and brother and the two cousins moved to sit with their old company, Bofur ignoring the questioning looks that were being sent his way, at least it was too loud for any of them to bother with any quiet interrogation of asking him where he had been for the past couple of hours.

He glanced up the table to where Kili was slouching between his brother and mother, glaring resentfully at the table while his older brother tried to coax a conversation out of him. The lad gave short, blunt answers to whatever ever his brother was saying but nothing more. Even from where he sat, Bofur could see the pain in Fili’s eyes.

He wasn’t the only brother pained by another brother’s attitude he realised when he saw that his own was looking at him with a similar expression.

He forced himself to smile, the one smile he had left and was solely reserved for his brother and their cousin.

“What’s the matter, Bombur?” He tried to tease, “Full already?”

His brother smiled back at him, a shy and possibly a little nervous but a smile nonetheless.

Bofur shook his head, angry with himself.

He had to do better than this, he had to! His brother and he had spent far too many years apart for a rift to form between them now.

He would work harder to be a better brother and cousin.

After all, it would be what she would have wanted.

Chapter Text

Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, King under the Mountain sitting on his throne, surrounded by his people, all of whom were safe and sound back in their rightful homes, had a heavy heart.

He had no right to have one, it was Durin’s Day, a day of celebration, farewelling an old year and welcoming a new one with open arms. And yet here he was with a heart as heavy as if it were made from stone.

If only it was, he thought grimly, for stones do not feel.

He feels too much, far too much and he has found no way of controlling these feelings or better yet, ridding himself of these frustrating and useless emotions that are slowly consuming him, killing him with their strength.

He leaves the celebrating as soon as he can without someone asking questions, but in his mind it isn’t soon enough.

He returns back to his chambers and strips himself of his crown, which has been weighing heavily upon his brow with each passing hour, and his fine fur robes so that he is now simply dressed in clothes that are very similar to the ones he wore on the quest a year prior.

These were the clothes he was comfortable in, not fine, long fur robes and a heavy crown on his head, no, he wore those things only when necessary, when the occasion called for him to look like the Kings of Old, but only at these times. The rest of his time, he looked as he had always looked before he reclaimed his throne.

He was warrior, always ready for battle, waiting for the first howls of incoming wargs or the harsh blows of Goblin war horns. He had spent too many years battling for his and his people’s lives to settle down into the role of King.

He was a fine diplomat when he needed to be but usually he needed Balin by his side to make sure he didn’t lose his temper at whoever he was meeting with. Give him a bloody war and life-threatening situations over mountains of paper work any day. His father and grandfather had been good at these types of things, as was his sister and thankfully Fili was showing a knack for it is well, but himself? No, he was old and grumpy and had never been good with people.

Oh yes, he can order them around, keep them alive and be a good leader to them during times of war and suffering but as soon as it comes a time of peace and prosperity, he is worse than useless to his people something he had always feared he would become.

How can he be a good ruler when his own nephew can barely stand to be in the same room with him and his old friends are even less unhappy being safe and sound back in their home than they had been when they had been hungry and out in the wild, with Goblins and wargs bitting their heels.

It’s because of her, a nasty voice sneers at the back of his head, it’s always because of her.

Thorin shoves the voice back to the far depths of his mind. The last time he had listened to that voice he had made a grave and horrible mistake. And possibly from that mistake had caused the death of someone whom had known little of what she had actually done but had only their best interest at heart.

He shakes his head again. He didn’t want to think of her either, though she is almost always on his thoughts, always there near the back of his mind, constantly tormenting him with her presence.

He stalks from his chambers and down some side stairs leading to a rarely used side gate.

He nods sharply to the guard on duty, who nods tightly back before returning to his unshifting stance.

Thorin and these guards have an agreement, when he leaves by this door, unattended, at night; they speak not a word to anyone about it. Their King’s business was his own and if they remained silent about his midnight walks, they found themselves rewarded in small but meaningful ways.

Thorin walked carefully down the unused steps for they were starting to crack and crumble, but as this gate is rarely used by anyone other than himself – and he suspects a few members of his company – no one has found the need or the time to repair them. Which actually suits Thorin just fine. He has no wish for any dwarves besides himself – and his company – to be visiting the place where these old, worn stairs lead to. But still, he treads carefully as he moves further down the battered, crumbling stairs.

They lead him to a small and sheltered area that he can’t remember what it was used for before Smaug had taken the mountain as his own. Now it was used as a graveyard. A graveyard with only one grave. One grave that held no body.

He hesitates at the bottom of the stairs as he always does before he goes over to the empty grave. It’s not that he feels unwelcome here which really considering all things he really should, he had all but signed her death warrant.

No, the problem was, he does feel welcomed here.

Hobbits, he learned fairly early on during their travels, forgave quickly. No matter what the offense might have been towards her, after maybe a couple of hours of being quiet and sulky or maybe after a night’s sleep, all would be forgiven and forgotten and she was back to being the smiling, chattering creature whom he was constantly torn between wanting to strangle and wanting to keep by his side always for fear that she will come to some harm.

And she had. Of course she had, she always fell into the company of trouble whenever she left their side. Only, with this last time, she did not come back to them like she had all those other times, she didn’t come back because she was dead.

Dead and all because she had already forgiven him for his horrible and cruel actions towards her and was so stupidly loyal to him that she had thrown herself into a battle that she had little to no hope of surviving even with her magic ring.

She had saved his life, more than once and he hadn’t been able to repay her. Oh, he had saved her from falling off a cliff and from some trolls – then she proceeded to save him and the rest of their company with her quick wit and intelligence – and from a few other small things like that, but still, she had done more for him than he had ever done for her.

He had tried to give her his love and his trust but in the moment that she had needed him to trust in her, he had thrown her out, too furious and mad with golden greed that he didn’t see that she was once again been trying to save him, this time from himself.

And then to make matters worse, she had saved him again after he had thrown her out, renounced her.

She had come and saved him when he had been close to death from the wounds that Azog – who was now dead, thank you very much – had paid him.

He had been on his own, half trapped beneath the body of the pale orc who had slain his grandfather and threaten the lives of his nephews, the battle raging on around him when he felt something trying to lift the great weight off his bruised and battered body.

He could hear stifled sobs and laboured breaths near his side, feel the great weight being slowly lifted off him but he could see no one.

“Bill-Billanna?” He had choked out, moving his free and unbroken hand, reaching out for her. He touched her leg which was slick with sweat and blood, both of which stain his fingers.

“Are-are you just going to lie there,” she whimpered breathlessly, “or are you going to help me?”

With more effort than it should have taken, together they managed to roll the monster off him.

“His warg?” Thorin had wheezed, trying to ignore the pain in his ribs, back and lower body. In fact his whole body was in pain, no where hurt more or less than anywhere else. Death, in his mind, couldn’t come quickly enough.

“Dead.” She says it so bluntly, so coldly that he can’t help but look sharply at her. Or at least the place where he thinks she is standing.

“You would know…”

“I just do.” She snaps and he drops it, for now.

“You should go, save yourself, return to the Shire, to your nice Hobbit-hole and books, armchair and garden.”

“Oh, I plan to,” she replies and he feels her move behind his head. The nerves in his shoulders and arms jump and scream when he feels her tiny hands tuck themselves beneath his arms and she starts to pull him away from the Azog’s corpse, “once I’ve saved you… again, then I’m off.”

“Leave! Now!” He snapped and tried to struggle against her insistent pulling. She was surprisingly strong, to be able to pull his broken, fully-armoured body across the battlefield.

“No.”

“Stupid Hobbit.”

“Stubborn Dwarf.” She snapped back with just as much venom. “Just shut up and let me help you.”

He fell silent then and simply allowed her to pull him into a small rocky shelter, away and hidden from the rest of the battle.

“Everyone else?” he asked gruffly as she fussed over him, trying to get him as comfortable as she possibly can.

“All still fighting,” She replied and he can hear the sadness and tears in her broken voice.

“None have fallen?”

“Bombur went down for a moment or two but Bofur and Bifur fought off the Goblins who had jumped him. Ori got into a nasty tussle with a huge orc but he managed to fight it off all by himself, but he received a horrible wound to his arm. I don’t know if he’ll ever able to write again.” The sobs are thick in her voice as she tells him of the current predicaments of his – their company.

“Your cousin, Dain, is very impressive with his hammer,” she continued to inform him, “took off five Orc heads with one swing.” She sounds torn between being impressed and disgusted. He had a hard time fighting back a grin at her tone before thinking that that shouldn’t have been something she should have seen. None of this was something she should have seen. A Hobbit had no place in a battle.

“Why, why did you come back? Why are you here, instead of somewhere safe?”

“By the time we knew what was going on, the Goblins and Wargs were upon us, we - I had no time to get anywhere safe. Even if there had been…” she trails off and he wishes, not for the first time during this strange and slightly uncomfortable and painful encounter, that he could see her.

“You have your ring and you have proven time upon time before that you are quick and silent on your feet. You could easily leave without being spotted.”

“Not when I have Wargs bearing down on me, I can’t.” She snapped.

“What? How?”

“They can smell me.”

“Even through all this?” he had asked sceptically, waving his hand weakly in the direction the huge battle still raging on nearby.

“Yes, even through all this. The White Warg gave me quite the chase before I managed to throw it off.”

“The white… Azog’s warg?”

“Yes, it was quite insisted on getting its teeth into me.” She replied dryly but he can feel her body trembling.

“I’m…” what, he had thought. Sorry? Sorry seemed fairly weak compared to everything she had gone through because of him.

“It’s alright. They’re both gone now.”

“Are you hurt?”

She takes a long moment to answer him before saying that she will be fine. He doesn’t like that, he doesn’t like that answer at all.

He had reached out blindly and managed, by mere chance, to catch hold of one of her wrists in his hand, fumbling with her trembling fingers, searching for the plain gold band that had the ability to turn her invisible.

She tried to squirm away from him, but her desire to not cause him any pain worked in his favour and he was able to pull the ring free from her finger.

The moment it left her finger, she was visible, glaring at him under several layers of blood and dirt and wildly tangled hair, more brown than the golden colour it was when cleaned. Her clothes were ripped and torn worse than they had been the last time he had seen her.

Overall, she looked positively miserable and further confirmed his thoughts that war was no place for Hobbits.

“You should not have gotten involved.” He said, groaning as he leans back against a rock, dropping her magic ring into the palm of her hand.

“You would be dead if I didn’t.” she replied, her brown eyes serious and defiant. She moved to get up and leave him, peering cautiously out of their shelter.

“Go, save yourself.” He tells her but she shakes her head.

“I think I can see Dwalin and Fili. I’ll go and get them and bring them here and then,” she looks back him, her small shoulders hunched and he can see the sadness, pain and regret clouding her earthy orbs, “then I’ll go.” And never come back, you’ll never have to see me again. She had left all that unsaid between them.

She pulls her ring out of her ruined waist coat pocket and slips it.

“Stay safe.” She tells him firmly, “Stay safe, do you hear me? And don’t die! You’re not allowed to die, do you hear? I’m didn’t go through all this for you to go and die on me!”

He opened his mouth to growl back at her, to snap at her that that was no way to address a King but speaking has grown hard for him and his eyes have grown heavy.

The next time he wakes, the battle is over, the eagles have come and their burglar was nowhere to be seen.

He told no one of his meeting with her which now felt more like a dream – though how did he manage to get himself all the way from Azog’s corpse into the rocky shelter he was found in without help? – and he kept mostly silent when Gandalf came to them a day or so later demanding to know where the hobbit was.

He regretted his words he spoke – he regretted a lot of words he spoke – to the wizard and he still cringed with guilt when he thought back on the last words that the wizard had spoken to him in return.

They hadn’t seen him again since those early days after battle. He left in a great hurry on a white steed with Beorn, in his great bear form, beside him. Thorin did not know the reason behind the Wizard’s leaving but he didn’t question it as it wasn’t the first time the Wizard had up and left when he was most needed.

Instead he focused on trying to heal and trying not to think too hard on what might have happened to the burglar, especially when her blue coat was brought to him, bloodied and ripped to pieces. In his dream of her, he remembers her wearing it, but he can’t remember if it was already torn and bloody then.

It was just a dream, he thinks over and over again, but if it was just a dream then why had she been on the battlefield? A rabbit caught between a net and a trap, maybe?

He tries not to think about her, focuses on healing and rebuilding his great kingdom and making amends with the menfolk and grudgingly with the elves. Only problem with dealing with them is each time he looks of them, he starts thinking of her.

They had liked her, apparently and actually put quite a bit of effort into the search for her and had been almost as disappointed and disheartened as Thorin’s company had been when she wasn’t recovered.

He wasn’t sure what happened to her coat once he was healed enough to move about and started organising the cleaning process of Erebor. He made a point of staying away from the gold, not wishing for the madness that had seized him earlier to take hold of him once more.

He kept himself busy creating treaties between the men and elves, looking over the structural integrity of his mountain, with its many halls and rooms destroyed from Smaug’s attack, while also trying to learn how to be a King as he went.

It was almost a full month before he saw her coat again, washed and mended now and looking more like the coat she had worn during the last stage of their journey.

His throat had grown tight when he had seen it seated on a workbench in the workroom that Bofur and Bifur had claimed as their own.

His throat had grown all the tighter when he saw what was sitting next to it.

Her backpack, the only possession that had made it all the way from its place of origin to its destination.

They had called it her magic pack due to no matter how many times she lost it, it somehow always managed to find its way back to her. Like when they had lost all their things but the clothes on their backs and the weapons in their hands during their capture by the Goblins from Goblin Town. While everyone had lost their packs, Gandalf had returned hers to her once she had returned after she had been briefly lost.

The pack had stayed with her all through Mirkwood, during their time captured by the elves and even through their horrid barrel-ride to Long Lake, the damn thing stayed with her. And now…

The pack had been found in the place where they had spent their final night as a whole company, neatly packed and tucked away in a corner, waiting for its mistress to come and claim it.

She hadn’t and seeing the pack and remembering the joke that it would always find its way back to her, no matter what, seemed to solidify her death for them.

Not all of them, he knew that his youngest nephew and Ori still held out a hope that she had somehow survived and escaped the battle, but the rest of them accepted the inevitable. She was dead and despite her betrayal, she needed a proper burial.

They knew a little about a Hobbits funeral from Bilbo, as she had told them all about her culture when they asked her, telling them too much in some of their minds, but Hobbits didn’t have great secrets – well besides from some family recipes which Bilbo held close to her chest and refused to tell the secret ingredient to Bombur, no matter how he had begged – and their ways were very simple and were basically all about comfort. Including their funerals.

Their funerals were meant to be a happy affair, a time to remember the departed hobbits life with laughter and love, by being together, to comfort each other with their numbers and love. And afterwards a great feast – or a picnic as Bilbo had called it – was held in the departed hobbits honour and a grand time was meant to be had by all.

It was all quite different to a dwarven funeral, which was a serious and sombre affair, but they managed a sort of mixture of the two.

They had it at night and Bombur had cooked up a feast for them to eat. They found this little area, out of the way and not easy to get to without using the battered stairs. Some of them had even brought flowers with them too.

It had been awkward at first, what with several of them still not speaking to each other – in fact Thorin can’t even remember how this whole thing came about, though he suspected that Bofur, Bombur and Ori were behind it, along with getting each one of the company there – but they eventually forgot about their fights, at least for that night and had a reasonably good time speaking of the better parts of their quest, Fili and Kili enthusiastically retelling the tale of Bilbo rescuing them all from the spiders and their barrel-ride and so on. It was a good night, Thorin remembered and he only wished that that feeling of good will had stayed with them afterwards.

“They miss you, some more than others, but they all miss you.” He says as he plucks some grass between his fingers as he looks anywhere other than the small tombstone with a small, beautifully crafted metal box sitting at its base that contains her coat and backpack – it was all that had of her to bury.

He instead looks at the flowers that are growing all around the small area; he must make a point to thank Dori and Ori for keeping this area so lovely. They’d both get quite flustered of course for his temper always got a bit unstable whenever anything to do with her was brought up.

“I don’t mean to be,” he admits, “but…” He trails off unsure of how to finish his sentence. He was never good with words of sentiment when he doesn’t have a fight in front of him.

“You always were able to bring out the worst in me.” He finally growls before sighing, “and the best in me. How can someone so small and fragile bring out so many different and conflicting emotions in just one person?”

He got no answer in return, of course, but when he closed his eyes, he swore he heard her laughter. Her laughter, so different from a Dwarf women’s laugh with it being so bright and happy, causing her face to become pink and her eyes to twinkle.

She hadn’t laughed very much during the early stages of their journey, but as she had grown used to them and they grew used to her, the more she had and the more uncontrollable her laughter had become.

He smiles as he remembers her being bent double, clutching her belly, close to falling into a heap on the ground from laughing so hard at something his nephews and their companions had done.

Aule, how he had loved her laugh.

It had irritated him at first for it was so bright and happy, filled with a life that had not known true hardship and grief. But as time went on he grew to live for that sound.

He had never been very good at making her laugh, not like his nephews or Bofur, all of whom could have her giggling away with a few clever words but, but he had been very good at making her smile.

She smiled at him whenever he had praised her, even when some had been rather back handed compliments, she had still smiled a small shy smile back at him that had done nasty and puzzlingly things to his heart rate.

As time went on and he grew more accepting of her presence in their company – this being after she saved him from Azog… for the first time – he found himself working harder to get her smiling at him.

Not that that was an incredibly hard thing to do.

It wasn’t hard to get Miss Baggins to smile at you; a kind word here, a compliment to her cooking there, simple things like that could get you a smile that rivalled the Sun in brightness. But that hadn’t been what Thorin had wanted he quickly discovered much to his shock and slight dismay, he had wanted more than the smile that she gave each and every one of their company, he wanted a smile that was more specific, more directed. He wanted a smile that was solely his and no one else’s.

He got it too, after awhile, when they had once more been captured, this time by tall, pointy-eared bastards.

During their capture and the planning of their escape the hobbit lass had spent a great deal of her time – when she wasn’t wandering the eleven halls searching for a way of getting them all out – down by his cell.

It during these times that he had finally learnt the name her mother had given her, ‘Billanna’, and had finally accepted that he did indeed love her because she had finally graced him with a smile that he had never seen before but knew immediately was solely for him.

He had kissed her then and laughed when they drew back and he saw how brilliant a shade of red she was.

She had tried to glare at him but had failed so instead she did the next best thing. She slipped on her magic ring and disappeared right before his eyes and darted off to work on her escape plan for them.

He didn’t tell her of his love or proved it until they had reached Laketown. It was there that he had all but thrown caution to the wind.

She had been very shy at first, not knowing, never having experience this kind of love before. Which was a good thing, in his opinion or else he would have had to have murdered the fellow who had introduced her.

She had laughed at that and smiled his smile as her eyes twinkled.

He swallowed thickly and shook his head.

It hurt too much to keep thinking of her like this. It was easier when he pretended that she had never existed to begin with.

It is selfish of him, he knows, Aule he knows, but being selfish with his emotion has been how he’s survived. In times when he couldn’t afford to allow for his emotions to rule his head, he had all but shut them off and now, he was facing the consequences.

He shook his head again, wishing that he had brought some alcohol with him. Or maybe, he had drunk just enough at the feast to lower his usual high and impenetrable walls – she hadn’t needed any alcohol to break down his walls, only herself – and is allowing his emotions and memories to move freely within him.

Just for tonight, he thinks, closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel the soft of the green grass beneath his fingers and for his nose to be filled the flowers blooming around him.

Just for tonight, he would let it all come back to him and then he would return to being the King that his people needed and wanted him to be.

Just for tonight.

Chapter Text

Two years and six months later

“Gandy! Gandy!”

Bilbo fought back an amused smile as her small son squealed out his version of the name of his favourite wizard.

“Ah, young Mister Frodo, how you’ve grown.” The grey wizard was standing by her front gate smiling fondly at the little toddler who was squirming within his mother’s embrace so as to be let down and to be able to run to the wizard’s side.

“Good morning.” Bilbo greeted the wizard with a sly, knowing smile which he returned.

“Good morning, Miss Baggins and what a fine morning we are having.”

Bilbo smiled before sighing.

“Alright, alright, I’ll let you down.” She sighed while also fighting back laughter as she set her son gently down upon the soft green grass by the wooden bench they had been sitting on together, reading one of her favourite books, before Gandalf had shown up quite unexpectedly at their gate.

He promptly stood up from where he had been sat and trotted carefully over to where Gandalf stood on the opposite side of the gate.

“Gandy.” The little lad held his arms up for the Gandalf to pick him, which the wizard cheerfully obliged, bending down and carefully swinging the lad up and over the garden gate and onto his hip.

“Irewoks, Gandy, irewoks!” Frodo squealed, bouncing up and down on Gandalf hip as his mother opened the gate for Gandalf to step into her lushy and vibrant green garden, her flowers in full bloom.

“Not now, my darling, it’s still light out.” Bilbo replied smiling up at her son who beamed back at her. He was such a happy child, so unlike his…

“Tea, Gandalf?” She asked as she led the wizard up her front steps to her round green front door.

“Please. I am not here for a long visit I’m afraid. Simply passing through and thought to drop in to see how you were doing.” The wizard replied as he followed the hobbit to her kitchen, carefully sitting down at her low table without jostling the little lad on his hip who was contently playing with his beard.

The lad took great enjoyment in playing with facial hair, it being an unseen quality in the male hobbit and so took every opportunity to play with Gandalf’s beard whenever the wizard paid them a visit. Lucky for the wizard the lad had quickly learnt not to pull.

“Where are you off to?” Bilbo asked as she put the kettle on and set some biscuits upon the table.

“Oh, here and there,” Gandalf replied with a wink as he took a biscuit from the plate, broke it in two, passing the smaller half to the toddler who happily started sucking on the treat so that it became soft and mushy in his mouth.

“No adventures? Not here to lure any unsuspecting hobbit lad or lass out of their safe and cosy homes with the promises of treasure and glory?” Bilbo teased.

“If I didn’t know any better, my dear hobbit lass, I would start to think that you had become cynical in your still reasonably young age.”

Bilbo snorted.

“I’ve always been rather cynical.”

“I would more have said sceptical, but believe what you will about yourself, as it is yourself who should be the one who know best.”

“Not always.” Bilbo replied softly from where she stood by the kettle waiting for it to boil.

“No,” Gandalf agreed softly, “Not always.”

“Irewoks, Gandy, irewoks.”

Bilbo smiled at her son, pleased to have a reason to not think about the past even though the past had quite a lot to do with her son’s creation.

“Not this time I fear, my dear little fellow, not this time.”

The little boy opened his mouth as if to cry or protest before shutting it again, a resolved look appearing in his blue eyes.

He wiggled out of Gandalf’s laps, landing smartly on his feet before tottering off out of the room.

“I do hope I have not upset him too greatly.” Gandalf commented. From his experience with other hobbit children – which was very little, really – that while they could become easily upset over almost anything, they got over it again just as quickly, usually with the help of some kind of treat or some small present.

Dwarf children however, being quite like their parents took their displeasure over something to great levels, usually carrying it over into pre-adulthood and adulthood. And if you just so happened to be associated with whatever had caused them displeasure as a child, well you had better look out. It took a frustratingly long time to get out a dwarf’s bad books, especially with a grudge that has been held since childhood.

“Doubtful.” Bilbo replied with a smile, “more like… ah, here he is.”

And sure enough, Frodo Baggins was tottering back into the kitchen holding several pieces of paper in his hands, clutching them closely to his chest. He came to once more stand by Gandalf side, looking up at the wizard expectantly with his brilliant blue eyes.

Just like his father, the wizard thought, Durin’s line certainly is strong. Though that should be expected, considering…

He lifted the lad up onto the bench beside him, still looking over the soft black curls and sapphire blue eyes.

“What have you there, my dear lad?”

With a small, shy smile, Frodo showed him and Gandalf didn’t have to try hard to look impressed with the child’s drawings. While still being very child-like, there was also an age to them that was certainly impressive in a two almost three year old child.

He glanced over at the lad’s mother who was pouring their tea.

“Do ya like?” the lad asked shyly. “I dew the dwagon ‘om Mama story. See…” the boy shuffled through the papers to show Gandalf a very impressive rendition of Smaug, obviously drawn by a very young child’s hand but still remarkable accurate.

“Impressive. Very impressive. You have quite a talent, my little fellow.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Gandalf glanced back up at Bilbo and sees her worry, her concern for her already unique child.

“You an ave ‘em Gandy” The boy said with a wide smile.

Gandalf smiled back at the lad.

“Thank you, I will keep them close and look at them often.” The boy’s smile was so wide it was, Gandalf was sure, in this home at least, a rival to the Sun itself.

 * * *

“Is it normal?” Gandalf looked down at the hobbit. She had just tucked her son into bed for his afternoon nap and had checked on her still resting father and was now showing Gandalf out.

“Him being able to draw like he already does? Is it normal for Dwarrow children?”

“Dwarrow children discover their trade early on in life, though I’ve never heard of it happening this early, but…” He added quickly when he saw the nervousness in Bilbo’s brown eyes, “that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. You know how secretive Dwarves can be.”

Bilbo snorted but made no reply.

“Do not fear Bilbo, Frodo is a healthy lad with a talent for drawing.”

“Ori will be thrilled.” Bilbo commented with a small smile before sighing heavily as she thought of the young dwarf whom had come to be like a little brother to her. In fact all the dwarves, by the end, had all become something like brothers to her. All except one, but she doesn’t think about him, as much as she can help it.

She notices that the wizard was watching her closely and forced herself to smile before frowning when she noticed that he was wearing a slightly worried expression on his old, wise face.

“What is it Gandalf?”

“Hmmm, oh it is nothing really but…”

“What is it?” She persisted. Too often she was kept in the dark over something during their quest and she was quite sick of it if she must say so herself.

“A trading route is being set up between the Ered Luin and Erebor and I believe it will be passing quite close by to the Shire.”

Bilbo swallowed nervously.

“I doubt that they’ll ever actually come into the Shire. We have nothing of interest to trade with them, except maybe food. But it would spoil long before they returned to Erebor.” Bilbo said trying to calm her racing heart.

“I agree with you,” The wizard replied with a nod of his head, “but I thought that this would be something you would like to know.”

“I doubt that any of them would be a part of any of the trading parties moving between Ered Luin and Erebor.” Bilbo whispered to herself. “And even if any of them were, they wouldn’t come to the Shire. They think I’m dead, so they wouldn’t.” She shakes her head, feeling silly over the tears that are threatening to betray her true feelings to the wizard.

She felt a large and solid hand being placed upon her shoulder and looked up into the wizard’s wise, sad dark eyes.

“All will work out the way it should.”

“That’s it?” Bilbo asked with a weak smile, “That’s the best advice you have for me?”

“At the moment? Yes.”

Bilbo shook her head, laughing softly.

“Of course. Can’t get a sensible word out of wizard unless it suits him.”

“I’m sorry Bilbo that I cannot leave you with more.”

“It’s fine.” The hobbit lass replied with a shake of her blonde curls. “You will come and visit us soon, won’t you? Frodo does miss you something terrible when you’re away.”

“I will try, my dear, I will try.”

“If you see any of them, tell them…” she trailed off, biting down upon her lower lip, “never mind.”

“The last I saw of them, though they did not see me, they were all doing very well.”

In body, maybe but not in soul, the Wizard thought sadly as he looked down at the hobbit before him.

If only she knew how much they missed her, mourned for her. If only they weren’t so stubborn to admit it to themselves, then maybe the company wouldn’t be in this mess.

He shakes his head before giving his burglar a small bow which causes her to blush and return the gesture awkwardly.

He remembered fondly on a time when she had laughingly made the gesture when three particular royals had either amused or annoyed her in some way and she had just won the argument against them.

Now she fumbled with the motion, her back very stiff and she gave none of the dramatic flair that she had once had accompanying it.

“Goodbye for now my dear hobbit, I will see you soon.”

“Goodbye Gandalf. I hope so.”

With a final wave and bow the wizard left, feeling the hobbit’s eyes following him all the way down the lane until he was out of sight.

Once he was out of sight, he allowed his shoulders to drop with relief.

She was fine, both of them were, it was silly of him to have paid so much heed to those rumours but still…

He shuddered as he remembered the whispers he had heard, rumours that a pack of Goblins and Wargs were making their way to the green lands of the small folk, to steal away the small folk known as Baggins for her part in the death of Azog, their great leader.

Just rumours these whispers had proven to be. For he had seen no signs of Goblins and Wargs making their way so far north and near the Shire, but still he had pressed on, into the Shire and into Hobbiton, to see for himself, to prove to himself that she was safe and sound.

She was, as safe and sound as their adventure could leave her.

He knew that she still suffered from nightmares from their journey, he could see the evidence of them from the bags under her eyes and the nervous nature she held herself. But she was safe and mostly happy, her son being the light of her life, he knew and he was grateful that Thorin, unknowingly, had left her with this one but precious treasure.

He shook his grey head again.

He would return again soon, around Frodo’s birthday, he should think.

With this thought in mind, he gave his head a sharp nod before making his way out of the Shire, to parts unknown.

Chapter Text

“Your Uncle is not going to approve of this Kili.” Bofur sighed, half-heartedly trying to convince the young prince to go on to Ered Luin with the rest of their party.

The young Dwarf shot him a look that almost rivalled his uncle’s in its fierceness and Bofur sighed again, but also felt a small smile grace his lips beneath his beard.

This hadn’t been planned, not at all. It had been a passing fancy a night or so ago, when he recognised some landmarks that he had seen during their journey to and from the Shire some four or so years ago.

He hadn’t meant to speak his desire to see the Shire again out loud in the hearing range of a Prince looking for any excuse to get away from the rest of their party, a cousin who was all but fed up with their current company as all except for their small group had given up trying to converse with him - just because he only spoke Khuzdul, didn’t mean he didn’t want to be included in conversations - and a young scribe who had taken a liking to the Shire – the people there suited his personality far more closely than his own kin – and was happy to go along with any excuse to visit it, even if he was a tad worried about the consequences that may follow.

“We’re going to be caught.” Ori mumbled as they encouraged their ponies down a small, but well-cared for road leading them through rolling green hills and patches of woodlands.

“No one said you had to come along Ori.” Kili replied as he took a bite of an apple he had snared when they passed an orchard earlier. “Besides, Uncle never said we couldn’t return to the Shire, only that…” his voice trailed off as his face filled with almost uncontrollable rage.

Bifur gave a grunted and Kili seemed to remember himself and went back to lounging in his saddle, munching on his apple.

“What are we hoping to… ah achieve?” Ori asked as he moved his pony next to Bofur so that they now rode side by side.

“To achieve? Why, a successful trading agreement between us and the Shire-folk, of course.” Bofur replied with his easy smile. Or rather a poor copy of his once easy smile.

Ori gave him a very impressive mimic of his oldest brother’s disbelieving and sceptical look, but the young red haired dwarf says nothing more and Bofur leads the way towards the heart of the Shire, towards Hobbiton and the answers of unasked questions might finally be answered.

 * * *

“I can’t believe you’ve gotten us lost, Ori! I thought you were meant to be good with directions!” Kili complained at the flustered red-headed dwarf some hours later.

“This country hasn’t been laid out in any particular pattern; it’s not like at home where everything is set out nicely! In this place the people just seem to randomly pick a bit of land to call their own, create a road or two to and from it and that’s about it. We’re lucky to get a signpost.” Ori exclaimed, sounding quite stressed.

“We could always ask someone, couldn’t we?” Bofur said, raising his voice so as to stop any further squabbling between the two.

Honestly, why had he agreed to allow them to come along again? He should have sent them on with the rest of the party to Ered Luin. He didn’t care if he landed himself in the youngest prince’s bad books, the boy would get over it eventually. He on the other hand, was quite ready to give the young prince a cheerful smack over the back of his head with his mattock if the lad didn’t stop his whining for more than five seconds.

“Ask who?” Kili grumbled, “There’s no one around!”

Bofur simply rolled his eyes before spurring his pony onwards.

After a five minute of searching, they came across a farm. At least, it looked like a farm to Bofur’s eyes but you could never be sure with Shire folk, they were a queer lot. He thought he could make out a house off in the distance and he was certain that the fence they had come across was meant to keep people out of a field growing… something or other. Some kind of green vegetable was all he could tell.

“Who are you then?”

Bofur thought he did very well not to jump right out of his skin then and there when an unexpected voice called out to him from within the farm’s fence line. It took another look into the farm’s field for him to see the owner of the voice.

A hobbit man with messy brown curls streaked with grey, leaning against a pick was watching them closely with narrowed brown eyes. He wore clothes that had seen many hard days of work, but were still reasonably neat and respectable. A large wolf-like dog sat nearby, panting and eyed them in a way that made Bofur think that if the mutt was given the command, he’d given them all a good bite.

“Good day.” Bofur called, putting on the best smile he could manage these days. He quickly saw that it did him little good when it only caused for the farmer to eye him with a further narrowing of his eyes.

“Good day.” He replied slowly, “What are dwarves doing in these parts?” he asked after a moment, getting straight to the point.

“We’ve here to discuss…”

“We’re here to visit a friend.” Kili said, interrupting Bofur, who was once more fighting the desire to smack the young dwarf over the head.

“A friend?” the farmer replied, looking and sounding unconvinced. His mutt got slowly to its feet, watching them closely its lips curling back to show its impressive fangs.

“By the name of Baggins, yes.” Kili went on, seemingly oblivious to the nasty mutt.

“Lad,” the farmer snorted, “there are no Baggins in these parts, they’re all up in Hobbiton and to my knowledge none of them would be friends with… well, you lot.”

“What’s that’s supposed to mean!” Kili all but yelled before letting out a yelp as Bifur smacked him over the back of his skull with the hilt of his Boar Spear.

“All the same, we are here to see a Baggins,” hopefully, Bofur thought though his heart was already sinking. This was a stupid idea, why had he allowed himself to hope so… “Where is the way to Hobbiton, my good sir? We’re quite lost.”

“Quite lost indeed, Master Dwarf, heading completely in the wrong direction in fact.”

“Could you please give as the direction to Hobbiton?” Bofur asked.

The farmer heavied a great long suffering sigh before trotting over to them, leaning on the fence and gave Bofur some very thorough directions on how to get onto the East Road and when to turn off to go into Hobbiton. His huge dog followed him to the fence and was now sniffing Bifur’s outstretched hand with interest.

“Which Baggins are you looking to meet with, if you don’t mind my asking?” The farmer asked.

“Ah,” Bofur hesitated for a moment, shooting a warning look at Kili to keep his mouth shut under pain of another smack to his head, “Bilbo Baggins.”

“Bilbo, Bilbo, Bilbo.” The farmer rolled the name over his tongue for several moments, “sounds familiar but can’t say I know the lad personally.”

“Oh, he isn’t a he,” Ori butted in quickly edging a little closer but keeping his eyes warily on the huge dog, “Bilbo is a hobbit lass.”

“A lass?” the farmer frowned before his dark brown eyes widen, “Oh, you wouldn’t mean Billanna Baggins, would you? Belladonna’s lass? Heard that the lass went and got herself involved in some dwarrow folk misadventures a few years back.”

“Ah, yes,” Bofur said trying not take offense at the hobbit farmer’s manner, “that’d be her. Is she still living in Hobbiton?”

“Haven’t seen her in a good many years. Always kept to herself, she did. That is,” and the farmer actually smirked, “when she wasn’t leading a group of young whipper-snappers to steal my mushrooms.”

“Stealing mushrooms?” Kili asked looking delightedly amused by this information. Obviously thinking of all the times she scolded him over sneaking extra helpings when no one else was looking.

“Yes, that she did. Would never have caught her too if it weren’t for my dogs chasing her up a tree that one time.” He patted his big dog’s head, still smirking with amusement.

“Dogs? Chased her up a tree?” Kili was almost beside himself with laughter.

“Alright, calm down.” Bofur said, forgetting for a moment that he was in fact talking to a prince – not that the lad acted like one most of the time – but he didn’t have time for the lad’s amusement, he had to find out the truth.

“So she’s still living in Hobbiton?” Is she still alive? Was what he really wanted to know, as so far the farmer had only spoken of her in past tense.

“I believe so.” The farmer replied, running a worn, weather-beaten hand over his beardless chin thoughtfully, “Last I heard was of her coming back from her misadventures, a little worse for wear and apparently started waving some little blade about because she stumbled upon an auction taking place at her Hobbit-hole .”

“An auction?”

“Well, she was gone for an awfully long time, to wherever it was you lot took her to, that we all presumed she was dead. Her Pa didn’t of course, but that wasn’t enough to stop people talking and for the Sackville-Baggins to claim that they had ownership over Bag End, even though their lad of theirs never married Miss Billanna, but that family has always been a slippery lot.”

“So, she came back?!” Bofur asked in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

“Of course she did.” The farmer was now giving them all a very strange look, “With that tall grey fellow - what his name? Gandalf? - with her. He stayed for a while, or so I heard. He visits from time to time, to check of her and…” the farmer stopped suddenly and started eying them suspiciously once more.

“You lot, you’re not here for any particular reason are you?”

“Um? Besides from wanting to see her, none that I can think of.” Kili replied, maybe a tad to flippantly and made Bofur want to smack him over the head again, especially with the look that the farmer was currently giving him

The farmer was giving the young dwarf’s a good, thorough looking over, eyeing the lad’s dark hair in particular with an almost unreadable expression.

“You’re not here to take her away on any more nonsense, are you?” the farmer asked them slowly and Bofur felt that if they gave the wrong answer now, the hobbit farmer would set his nasty mutt on them faster than any of them would be able to draw any of their many weapons.

“No sir.” They vigorously shook their heads and farmer nodded, seeming to believe them.

“Farmer Maggot.” He said after a moment, holding out a weather-worn, brown hand to Bofur.

“Bofur at your service.” Bofur replied politely, still eying the farmer’s dog warily, even though the mutt had now sat itself comfortably down by the farmer’s feet. “And my companions are Kili, Ori and my cousin Bifur.”

“At your service.” The two young dwarves said as they bowed. Bifur, grunting slightly, followed their example.

“Well, I don’t really need your service, but thanks to you anyways.” Farmer Maggot chuckled. “Give my best to Miss Baggins and her father.” He added as he waved them off.

“We will.” Bofur assured him with a nod of his head. “Thank you for all your help.” And for not setting your nasty-looking dog on us, he added privately to himself as his small company made their way in the direction that Farmer Maggot had directed them in.

They should reach Hobbiton in a few days, if they kept a good pace. They would have ridden straight to Hobbiton with no stops for food or sleep if it were up to Kili but Bofur had a firm hand and as much as he wanted to see the hobbit lass again, he knew it would be better than to turn up close to death on her doorstep, something he was quite sure she wouldn’t appreciate one bit.

Chapter Text

It took them three days of hard ridding for them to reach Hobbiton by mid-evening.

They left their ponies with a stable master on the outskirts of Hobbiton, paying him enough to keep their ponies for a week.

The stable master took their money with a quiet and unsure air about him but he was a reasonably cheerful fellow so none of them held it against him. He was also happy enough to direct them to Bag End.

“Are you Master Baggins Dwarves?” He asked as they were leaving the stables, his curiosity overriding his shyness.

“Ah… Master Baggins?” Bofur can’t help but question. It wasn’t the first time he had heard Bilbo or should he say Billanna – how could she never have told them her real name? He understood at the beginning of their quest together but by the end? – being called ‘Master Baggins’. She had been addressed by this title for much of their journey, when she wasn’t being called ‘Bilbo’ or her less than endearing titles ‘the burglar’ or ‘the hobbit’.

Master Baggins, he is a more than a little ashamed to admit that for some of his fellow dwarves the title had been used, at first, as a form of insult towards her, as they had all presumed before meeting her that they were going to have a male hobbit burglar and instead got a hobbit lass who was the mistress of her Hobbit-hole and had been for quite some time after her father fallen ill and was quite set in her ways, but after a time, it had become a form of endearment, much like her other titles which changed from ‘the burglar’ and ‘the hobbit’ to ‘their burglar’ and ‘their hobbit’.

The stable master blushed and muttered under his breath that he had meant Mistress Baggins.

“It’s alright,” Bofur said quickly, “We knew who you meant and yes, we are. You know of us?”

“From Master Baggin’s, I mean, Mistress Baggin’s stories. She’s always telling them, but,” the stable master went red once more, “I never thought that they were anything more than that, I must admit. It’s a pleasure to meet you all, even if I must say that some of things you did on those adventures of yours were truly quite mad.”

“And don’t we know it,” Kili replied with a wide grin, “cheers my good fellow.” And with that the young prince was all but running out of the stables.

“I feel almost bad for unleashing him upon poor Bilbo without so much as a warning.” Ori said, as he carefully stretched his stiff writing arm – its old wound was twinging from all the hard ridding he had been doing over the past few days – as the three dwarves followed after their prince.

“Yes, well, she wouldn’t have had to have worried about needing to be pre-warned about him if she hadn’t let us think she was dead for almost four years.” Bofur replied rolling his stiff shoulders, trying to contain the bubble of excitement that was brewing within his belly.

“Like I said, I almost feel bad for her.” Ori said with a small grin and Bifur let out a grunting chuckle.

 * * *

It was reasonably dark when they finally arrived at Bagshot Row and could clearly see, despite the darkness, Bag End at the top of the hill with its huge tree growing from the top of it. They could all see a hearty glow coming from several of the windows and it made their hope grow all the more stronger.

“Alright Lads, we’ve come this far,” Bofur said after they had stood at the bottom of Bagshot Row for well over five minutes.

“What if – what if she doesn’t want to see us?” Ori asked softly.

“That’s the risk we must take, but we will at least know that she is alive and happy, if nothing else.” Bofur replied cheerfully even though his stomach was doing somersault. This had, of course, since finding out she was alive, been his fear as well.

They walked quickly, but with forced casually so as to not draw too much attention to themselves, up the lane, up to the Hobbit-hole at the top of the hill, the Hobbit-hole with its bright green round door and round brass knob.

Bofur went first to the front door, followed closely by the others but it took several more moments for him to actually build up the courage to knock.

His heart almost stopped beating for a moment when he heard a familiar voice snapping from somewhere within the Hobbit-hole

“Lobelia, for the last time, I am not marrying your son! I don’t care if I’m a disgrace to the family and that people are talking. They can talk all they like for all I care but I will not… No, I refuse to marry…” the round green door swung open revealing to them a very annoyed looking hobbit lass with thick golden brown curls, annoyed but sensible brown eyes, wearing a dress of soft blue.

“Him…” She trailed off as she saw them, her brown eyes widening, first with relief and something Bofur was sure might be delight before those emotions dissolved into something close to absolute horror that was near broke Bofur’s heart to see.

She then let out a small scream and the next thing Bofur knew was that he was being smack, very hard, over the head by something long and solid – he heard several yelps and grunts and figured he wasn’t the only one to be hit with whatever it was she was hitting them with – before the round green door was being slammed in their face.

He winced as it slammed against his foot which he had stuck in the doorframe without even thinking the moment Bilbo had let out that heartbreaking scream.

“Bofur,” He heard her cry from the other side of the door, “get your great, big foot out of the way!”

“No,” he replied simply and with a look to his fellow dwarves, the four of them started pushing back against the door.

Unsurprisingly, it fell open without much trouble and Bilbo was hopping awkwardly backwards down her hall, trying to regain her balance via the use of a wicked looking umbrella.

“DIDN’T YOUR MOTHERS EVER TELL THAT IT’S RUDE TO ENTER A HOME UNINVITED!?” Bilbo was all but screaming at them once she had gotten her balance back and was scowling at them with such anger that Bofur almost felt inclined to leave her Hobbit-hole.

Bifur who was not understanding a thing of what was going on, only seeing that their Burglar was indeed very much alive but very, very upset over something – not realising that he himself was a part of the something that she was upset over – moved forward and before anyone, including Bilbo herself, could stop him, had his arms around her and hugging her close.

Bilbo struggled for only a moment before simply giving into Bifur’s embrace, even returning it a little, though she still looked quite upset and distressed by what was a occurring in her front hallway.

“What-What are you all doing here?” She squeaked out once Bifur has released her from his embrace, her eyes darting nervously out her front door as if expecting nine more Dwarves to come stomping into her front hall.

She probably was, Bofur guessed. It wasn’t the first time she had multiple groups on dwarves appearing on her front doorstep on one night.

“It’s just us.” Ori reassures her gently. He has always been good at reassuring and Bofur can see the hobbit lass’s shoulders beginning to relax despite her still troubled expression.

She swallows thickly before turning her troubled brown eyes back on to them. Bofur can see, with the light from the hall lamps, a nasty ragged scar cutting its way from her hairline down the right side of her face. She hadn’t had that when she had left them.

Forced to leave, he thinks bitterly.

He wants to ask her about it – he wants to ask her a great many things – but knows that now really isn’t the time, not when she was still looking so upset and close to beating them out of her home with that nasty looking umbrella that she was still holding.

“What are you four doing here?” She repeats again, her word spoken in a slow, cold tone that Bofur is sure she learnt from her time spent with them and when Thorin was in a particularly bad mood.

“Visiting?” Ori offers with a weak smile. The red-haired lad actually looks quite frighten of the cold lass standing before them, wicked umbrella in hand.

“We thought you were DEAD!” Kili exclaimed cutting his way straight to the chase, his face twisted in anger and pain and grief as he takes a step towards her. Bofur admired her for not taking a step back, for Kili truly looked quite frightening as he advanced on her.

“We thought you were killed in the battle! We mourned for you, are still mourning for you and all this time you were here, safe and sound with not even a word sent back to us to tell us any different!”

“Of course I didn’t!” Bilbo cried back, looking as angry and hurt as Kili looked. “How dare you! How dare you make this my fault when it was you lot who kicked me out! I didn’t think you wanted to know I was live! I thought you would be happy to think I was killed by some Orc or Warg during the battle! Your Kingly Uncle said as much, so don’t you dare make this all my fault!”

“We weren’t!” Kili snapped back, his dark eyes fighting back tears, “we weren’t! We looked for you, once Gandalf came to us telling us you were missing, we looked for you! We found your coat, shredded and bloody, and thought you were…” he swallowed thickly, “and thought you were…”

“Dead.” Bofur finishes for him with a sad little smile, watching as their hobbit shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He could see that she was torn. Torn between her justified fury over their actions towards her after everything she had done for them and the simple desire to simply forgive and forget, as was generally the way of hobbits.

She was saved from her indecision by the most unlikely of distractions. A distraction that Bofur would never have thought of in his wildest dreams in the far and few between moments when he allowed himself to think that their Burglar might just, just be still alive and had returned to her homeland.

“Mama?”

Bilbo’s whole body went completely stiff as her eyes widen in horror at the little voice grumbling behind her.

She closed her eyes, swallowed before looking behind her.

“Go back to bed, darling. Mama will be there in a moment.” She said in such a soft, soothing, motherly voice that it was hard to belief she had been screaming at them only moments before.

However the little lad, at least Bofur thought the child was a lad – he couldn’t see the child as Bilbo was blocking the little one from view with her body – the child was still at the young age where children, boys and girls, more or less sounded the same, seemed to have other ideas.

“Oooo are tey?” the little one asked and suddenly a pair of brilliant sapphire blue orbs were peering at them from around Bilbo’s skirt.

“Friends, sweetheart, go back to bed.” Bilbo said, her voice close to begging, her face twisted in an expression that clearly read that she wished to be anywhere other than her nice and cosy Hobbit-hole.

“Gandy?” The little lad asked excitedly and tried to push his way around Bilbo, only stopping when Bilbo placed a gentle hand upon his dark, curly head.

“No, not Gandy.” Bilbo muttered, not taking her eyes off them, her eyes caution and filled with worry.

“warves.” Bilbo sighed at the excited squeal from the child, who struggled even harder to get a better look at them.

“Yes, dwarves. Now if you’re very good and go back to bed right now, I’ll introduce you in the morning… maybe.” Bofur heard her mutter under her breath and it was here that he remembered he could, in fact, speak. Or at least splutter.

“Lass? You-you have a child.”

“Yes,” Bilbo replied her back stiff once more, “what of it?”

“We didn’t know you had a child.” Ori gasped looking delighted.

“That’s because,” Bofur could see she was fighting back a smile even though she still looked nervous and scared, “I didn’t have one when I left with you lot almost five years ago.”

She was fidgeting nervously, her eyes still darting to her front door, her hand running through the little lad’s thick black curls.

Bofur looked at the lad harder, took in his raven curls and brilliant sapphire eyes, so different from his mother’s soft golden brown locks and earthy brown eyes. But oh, they were so like a certain Dwarf King who had banished the little lad’s mother just over four years ago.

Bofur closed his eyes and groaned, pressing a hand to his brow. Any fool could put two and two together and do the maths.

Damn Thorin! Damn him to deepest pits in Erebor, and further!

He opened his eyes and looked back at the lad, who was watching him with child-like curiosity.

He smiled at him and the lad smiled shyly back before giggling and burying his face into his mother’s skirt.

Yes, the lad was most definitely Thorin’s child. Anyone who knew Thorin as well as Bofur and his companions did would and could easily see the similarities between them, similarities that only a father and his child could share.

He looked away from the shy child and up into Bilbo’s brown eyes, which had grown a little wider and she clutched her child a little closer to her.

“I’m sorry, Lass. So very sorry.”

From behind him, Bifur grunted out his agreement while the two younger dwarves simply looked confused and craned their heads to try and catch a glimpse of the boy child; neither had yet made the connection.

“S’not your fault.” She replies softly, looking away from them and down at her child, smiling slightly as she stroked his curls.

“What’s going on?” Kili asked slowly and carefully, his brown eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Bofur glanced back at Bilbo, wondering if she would try and lie to the young prince about her child as he had not yet made the connection, unlike Ori who let out a small understanding gasp only moments before.

Bilbo sighed heavily before coaxing her child to stand in front of her, his small fist pressed against his mouth as he surveyed them solemnly as they gaped back at him. Bofur who had already made the connections that this was Thorin’s child was still thrown by the similarities between them as he stared fully at the child, now no longer hiding behind his mother’s skirt and in fully visible for all to see.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Were the first words out of Kili’s mouth once he was over his stupor. “That Bastard! That complete and utter bastard! I’m gonna…”

“Kili,” Bilbo exclaimed as she clapped her hands over her child’s young ears, “please…”

The young Dwarf fell silent but he still looked pained.

“Did you… Did he know… when he… did he know?” Kili stuttered, struggling to speak full sentences as he continued to gape at his little cousin.

Bilbo shook her head.

“No. And neither did I, so you can stop right there with trying to blame my exile on this.” She growled, hugging her child close to her.

“I wasn’t going to.” Kili spluttered. “He would never have exiled you if he had known about the little one.”

“Oh, well that’s reassuring.” Bilbo snapped angrily, “would he have kept me until I gave birth to my son and then exiled me? Lovely, always knew that he was a charming fellow…”

“Mama.” Bilbo stopped short mid-sentenced and looked down at her child who was looking up at her with a puzzled expression.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Kili mumbled look quite deflated and miserable now.

“What his name?” Ori blurted out, trying to break the tension in the hall that was heavy enough to be cut with a knife.

“Ah,” Bilbo looked away from her son and looked at them with a slightly pink cheeks and looking a tad embarrassed, before she looked back at her son.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you introduce yourself.” She encouraged as she ran her fingers once more through his curls.

The little lad hesitated for a moment, looking shyly up at the dwarves.

“Frodo Baggins,” he said slowly and carefully, taking great care with his words, “at yor service.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Frodo Baggins.” Bofur replied with a one of the widest grins he has been able to make since before the Battle of Five Armies as he bowed to the little lad, “Bofur at yours.”

“And Ori.”

Bifur grunted and bowed.

Kili hesitated for a moment before moving to kneel in front of the little boy, who shifted slightly backwards into his mother’s legs.

“Kili son of Dis, nephew of the King under the Mountain, son of the line of Durin, at yours.” The young prince said softly to the little lad.

The lad chewed over this for a moment, before smiling.

“E’llo.”

“Hello.” Kili replied with a small grin. His hands twitched to lift his little cousin into his arms but he wasn’t sure how Bilbo would feel about this or about him or about any of them at the moment, but he did reach out and gently flick the little boy’s nose causing him to giggle.

Bilbo heaved a small sigh before giving them a tired smile.

“I suppose you’re all hungry and would like something to eat?”

The four dwarves started to protest but their growling bellies made their protests weak and caused their burglar to giggle.

“Alright go to the kitchen, you know where it is, while I’ll go and settle this one back down.” Bilbo giggled as she leant the wicked umbrella up against one of the walls in the hall and lifted her son up into her arms.

“ut Mama, me not tired.” Frodo grumbled as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. “I wanna tay ith u and the warves. Peeses?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart. But you’ll see them in the morning.” Bilbo said as she smiled fondly at her baby, “Say goodnight to the dwarves.”

“Nigh nigh.” The little boy mumbled, his eyes already drooping close with sleepiness.

“Good night.” The dwarves replied as they watched Bilbo walk up the hall while they made their way to the familiar kitchen even though they had only been in it once before.

“I’m still going to kill him.” Kili said as they settled themselves down at the table.

“Join the line.” Bofur replied and the other two dwarves nodded.

Chapter Text

Bilbo was lonely. Her little one was already tucked into bed and her father had retired to his room for the night with a good book – though she was certain that he had only managed to read a page before sleep overcame him.

She should be used to being on her own by now – it was how she had spent much of her time once her father had fallen ill with his mind-sickness – but since coming back from the quest to reclaim a mountain and being stuck with thirteen dwarves almost constantly, she has discovered that she no longer copes as well with being alone as she once had.

She keeps catching herself thinking of them whenever she is alone for more than an hour, wondering what they are doing, how they are, who is annoying who and so on. It makes her sad and causes for her loneliness to grow even worse, to the point where it almost physically hurting her.

She wished she could stop it, stop feeling this way, stop the loneliness and the longing for loud and rude company to invade her life once more.

She used to be quite comfortable being all by herself almost constantly, day in day out but now? Now she longs for loudness, for songs of times and places that aren’t mention in Hobbit history and so seem so mystical to her. She longs for the company of those who made her feel that she belonged with them even though she was of a completely different race to them.

But you didn’t belong with them. You didn’t when you first joined their quest and you certainly didn’t when you were banished from their side forever. They exiled you, remember. They cared more about their stupid, useless gold than they did about you or their own lives. Forget them and move on, you will never see them again.

And despite herself, Bilbo blinked back tears as she washed the dishes from dinner.

She had already been feeling fairly emotional already and now she’s gone and made herself feel all the worse by thinking about them!

She really needed to convince her father that answering their front door wasn’t such a good idea as it generally resulted with an unpleasant visit it from the Sackville-Baggins.

Bilbo knew it was not healthy or very gracious to think ill of one’s own family, but dammit, those wretched people certainly knew how to push her buttons.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Silly to get so upset over meaningless words, not when she had had far worse spoken to her – words that she hears him speak over and over again in her more terrible of nightmares – by far more significant people in her life than Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, but still Lobelia’s words had stung her, just as the wretch woman had hoped they would.

Usually Bilbo couldn’t care less what people said or thought about her, she was used to the whispers and pitying looks people had sent her way even before she went on her mad adventure. It came with being a girl child who had lost her mother far, far too early in life and was raised by a father who hadn’t really a clue of what he was doing – but he had done the very best that he could do, something Bilbo knew and loved him dearly for – and had quickly fallen prey to the incurable and utterly cruel mind-sickness, a disease that could appear suddenly or could creep up on you, little by little, over the years, eating away the memories of one’s life. Sometimes slowly, other times quickly, causing its unlucky victim to forget all that they once loved, including those who had been most important and beloved to them.

No, Bilbo didn’t care what people said about her, least of all the Sackville-Baggins, they could say what they wanted for all she cared.

No, what Bilbo did care about and with all her heart, was what people said about her family, her family of two, her father and her son.

Her mentally ill father who fell in and out of the coherent thoughts, laughing and chattering happily away to her and her son one moment, like he had done when she had still been a wee lass and her mother was still with them. And the next he was staring mindlessly at the wall opposite him, not speaking, not moving, not doing anything for hours on end.

And her son.

Her strange and beautiful little son that people would look at and wonder. Wonder who his father was, if he was some strange hobbit from Bree or the results of a one night fling with either a Took or Brandybuck – the whispers could never decide which, it was constantly changing between her lad’s father being a Took or a Brandybuck. Both families were known to be a little wild and were rumoured to have relations before and sometimes outside of the marriage bed, so it was possible that Billanna Baggins had conceived her lad during a mindless moment of passion when visiting either family as she had been known to do in her youth before she came to her senses and returned to Hobbiton to live among proper and sensible hobbits again. But she could have done the honourable thing and married the fellow who had caused her to be with child. But maybe the reason she hadn’t was because she didn’t know who the child’s father actually was!

This rumour, Bilbo remembered had caused a particular stir in the Shire for a good number of weeks.

She was thankful her cousins and friends in both the Took and Brandybucks families had more sense than to take these nasty rumours seriously. In fact it had become something of a joke over in both Buckland and Tuckborough and whenever Bilbo visited either family, her little lad was treated like one their own.

No, it was the other rumours, the dark ones that prickled Bilbo’s skin and made her heart ache. The ones about her dwarves.

No one in the Shire knew her fully story, the story of why she had really run out her door that day, the day of her wedding, chasing after an adventure that had, really, caused her nothing but misery. They all thought they knew the reasons but they really didn’t and they never would. But they made themselves feel important by thinking that they did and so, they whispered.

Most hobbits in Hobbiton and in other parts of the Shire had seen the Dwarves when they had been coming into the Hobbiton to meet with her and when they were leaving it again and so drew their own conclusions. Most were harmless, some… were not.

Those that were not were usually directed around the origin of her son and they made her feel sick to her gut whenever she heard them.

Hobbits may be considered a gentle race for their lack of weapons and warfare, but then those who thought this had never come under the fire of their cruel and vindictive tongues.

Bilbo, at times, found herself wishing that hobbits were more violent for then, if she punched someone or threaten them with Sting, it wouldn’t be considered strange and she would be left alone. But no, if she did that, she would only be left alone for a few days, at best, before it would start up again, worse than ever. It was simply best to ignore the looks and the whispers and hope that those who spoke them would grow tired and bored and move on. Only some, like the Sackville-Baggins, didn’t.

They just couldn’t leave it well enough alone and move on. They seemed to enjoy hurting her with their cruel, hurtful words and Bilbo feared for the time when her child would understand what was being spoken. She didn’t want him to think such things about the father he did not know, but how could she spare him from the pain of the whispers and rumours when the truth would only hurt him more?

The truth might even cause her darling son to hate his father all the more and as much as she still hurt over what had occurred between her and the sire of her child, she didn’t want her child to hate him, not before he even had a chance to know him.

She rubbed her eyes again.

Why, oh why hadn’t she just slipped her magic ring on the moment her father had opened the front door? She could have saved herself a great deal of pain and sorrow that she was currently feeling.

It doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t matter, you shouldn’t care what Lobelia and the rest think. You have a father and a son who love you with all their hearts, along with a large extended family who adores you. There is no reason to care what others think of you here in Hobbiton.

She nodded her head firmly.

Yes that was absolutely true, so she should stop right this moment with feeling sorry for herself. It would not help and would only make her weaker to further talk and unpleasant visits.

With this in mind, she dusted her skirt as if to dust off all the negative emotions she had been feelings all afternoon and evening and went and settled herself by the fire in her living room with a good book.

She had only read a couple of pages when she heard a soft but persisted knock on her front door.

She looked up from her book and over towards her front door in surprise and with a touch of apprehension. It wouldn’t be Lobelia again… would it?

The persisted knocking continued and Bilbo’s already frail nerves flared into anger, which she figured was her best approach to this late night intrusion and it might scare off Lobelia and whoever it was she had managed to drag along to accompany her at this late hour.

“Lobelia, for the last time, I am not marrying your son! I don’t care if I’m a disgrace to the family and that people are talking. They can talk all they like for all I care but I will not… No, I refuse to marry…” Bilbo snapped as she marched sharply to her front door, her hand firmly grasping the brass knob and threw open her door, hoping to scare whoever it was still insisting to knock on her door even though she had already made herself known to be at home.

Damn Sackville-Baggins!

“Him…” her voice trailed off weakly as her door fell completely open and revealed exactly who was knocking at this unreasonable late hour. She would almost take Lobelia in preference to those standing on her door step, staring back at her with mixed expressions.

They were alive!

She knew as much from Gandalf of course, but hearing that they were alive was very, very different to seeing for herself that they were indeed still walking and breathing in the land of the living!

It took all her strength not to throw herself a dear ol’Bofur who was staring at her with such a look of happiness and relief that she almost broke down crying all over again.

She had just been thinking of them and now, here they were!

Logic however quickly overruled her feelings of joy and she started to panic, her hand blindly reaching for the big heavy umbrella that stood tall in the umbrella stand behind the door.

If they’re here, she thought desperately, her heart racing with terror, than they must somehow have heard about Frodo and… The thought made a little scream of terror spring from her lips.

With the quickness and strength that she had been taught by the very dwarves standing in front of her, she smacked the umbrella over their heads before trying to slam the door in their yelping faces.

Only she couldn’t.

“Bofur,” She cried in dismay when she saw a huge dwarven boot sticking itself between the doorframe and her door – she guessed it was Bofur’s foot as he had been the closest – stopping her from closing her door and locking it up tight, “get you great, big foot out of the way!”

“No,” came his simple reply and the next thing Bilbo knew she, and her door, were being shoved backwards, causing her to hop awkwardly down her front hall, trying to use the umbrella to regain her balance.

Once she had, nothing could hold back her pent up years of anger.

“DIDN’T YOUR MOTHERS EVER TELL YOU THAT IT’S RUDE TO ENTER A HOME UNINVITED!?” It had been a long, long time since she had last screamed at anyone and it felt surprisingly refreshing even if a tiny part of her felt terrible when she saw both Bofur and Ori looking quite hurt.

She opened her mouth to start screaming some more when she was suddenly being pulled into a tight hug. Bifur?

A part of her wanted to squirm out of the mentally damaged dwarf’s embrace but he was so gentle and his small grunts of relief and delight made her heart feel warm and loved. A rather strange twist to how she had first felt when she had been meeting the dwarf for the first time and she had been terrified of him.

Terrified of his strange and eccentric movements, of the strange tongue he spoke in that only a select few – including Gandalf – understood, and of course, the bit of metal – she later found out it was the end of an orc’s axe – that was lodged in his skull.

Everything about this strange dwarf had terrified her once, just as Dwalin’s gruff, imposing manner had and Thorin’s… well, almost everything about Thorin had terrified her at first, but over time, surprisingly quickly actually, she had grown to be quite close to the damaged dwarf and had made a point to try and learn as much ancient Khuzdul as she possibly could so as to be able to converse with him.

So despite her terror and panic as to why several members of her old company were now standing in her front hall, she found herself relaxing into his embrace.

“What-What are you all doing here?” She squeaked once Bifur had released her and had moved back to stand with his cousin and the other two dwarves. She couldn’t help but keep glancing out her still open front door, waiting for more dwarves to come stomping in.

Oh, and what if he had come too!

“It’s just us.” Ori said smiling at her hopefully. He really hadn’t changed one bit since she had last seen him. He still looked as sweet and innocent as ever, dressed in the knitted clothing that he had made himself. She had been terrified that he might have harden, his innocence and gentle nature destroyed with the Battle of Five Armies.

She looked to his writing arm which she had seen being injured during the great battle, but it appeared to have healed well and seemed to be causing him no problem.

A bit of the great weight that she carried on her small shoulders lifted.

She forces herself to swallow down some of her fear and her continuous desire to keep glancing out her front door and turns her eyes fully on to them.

Taking a deep breath, she repeated her previous question.

“What are you four doing here?”

She hadn’t meant for herself to sound so cold and apathetic, but she was still reeling from the shock of them being here and possibly being here, not on his orders but rather…

“Visiting?” Ori offers her with a weak smile. He looks almost… frighten of her? She knew it was silly, but this thought actually amused her and she had a hard time fighting back a smile. Ori was hardly the biggest dwarf in their old company, Dwalin took that honour, but the lad was still quite a bit bigger than her, both in height and weight, so for him to be scared of her was quite… hysterical.

She would have probably broken down into a fit of hysterical giggles if weren’t for Kili. Dear Kili, so full of life and fire, was now burning with all the glory of dragon’s fire as he advanced on her.

“We thought you were DEAD!” His voice echoed around her front hall and made her heart thump madly in her chest. He looked so like his uncle did, when her deception was brought to light and she knew she had lost his love forever.

It took all her strength of will to not run from such fury again.

I am either very brave or a complete fool. Fool of a Took! She thinks dully, her heart breaking all over again.

“We thought you were killed in the battle! We mourned for you, are still mourning for you and all this time you were here, safe and sound with not even a word sent back to us to tell us any different!”

“Of course I didn’t!” Bilbo felt all the years of pain and anger swell within her body. How dare he! How dare he!

“How dare you! How dare you make this my fault when it was you lot who kicked me out! I didn’t think you wanted to know I was alive! I thought you would be happy to think I was killed by some Orc or Warg during the battle! Your Kingly Uncle said as much, so don’t you dare make this all my fault!” Her voice was close to screaming again and her eyes were sting with unshed tears.

“We weren’t!” Kili cried back, his own dark eyes were filling with tears too, “we weren’t! We looked for you, once Gandalf came to us telling us you were missing, we looked for you! We found your coat, shredded and bloody, and thought you were…” he swallowed thickly, “and thought you were…”

“Dead.” Bofur finished him quietly, giving her a sad little smile, so unlike his usual cheery and optimistic grins that he was so well known for. She felt her dinner in her belly do a little flip as she looked back at his ruined face, with its terrible scar slashing right across it, a large chunk of flesh missing from his nose.

But even with this terrible disfiguring scar, he was still good ol’ Bofur, with his optimistic and safe air about him and his silly fur hat that deep inside of her she still had an itch to steal from his head like she had during their quest.

It would be so easy to forgive them, to simply forgive and forget what happen during that awful moment that still makes her cry whenever she allows herself to think about it.

She opens her mouth to say… something, but whatever it was she had planned to say, she promptly forgotten at the sound of the most important creature in her life speaking behind her.

“Mama?”

Her whole body went stiff with terror.

Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no.

Calm yourself Bilbo, stay calm. There is no reason that they’ll make the connection, none at all, just stay calm.

She swallowed thickly before looking behind her, forcing herself to smile at her darling boy, who was walking slowly towards her, dressed for bed and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Go back to bed, darling. Mama will be there in a moment.” She said to him, hoping, praying that he will listen to her for once. But of course, she had given birth to an adventurous, sticky-beak of lad and he had heard unfamiliar voice which had of course peaked his interest and curiosity even though it was well past his bedtime and he knew, even at his young age, that staying up late, meant that he would be cranky in the morning because he was tired.

He blinked at her with his brilliant blue eyes, now wide awake as he tottered over to her, questioning as he came.

“Oooo are tey?”

“Friends, sweetheart, go back to bed.” Bilbo begged her baby, who was now clutching hold of her blue skirt and trying to peer around her to see the strangers standing in their front hall.

“Gandy?” He asked excitedly and tried to push his way around her legs, only stopping when she laid a hand upon his head of dark curls.

“No, not Gandy.” Bilbo muttered, her eyes now focused on the dwarves in front of her, nervously gauging their expressions, which at the moment seem to only read confused surprised.

“Warves.” Bilbo sighed at the excited squeal of her child, who was now desperately struggling to get a better looks at the dwarves in their front hall.

“Yes, dwarves. Now if you’re very good and go back to bed right now, I’ll introduce you in the morning… maybe.” Bilbo added the last bit under her breath for a part of her still hoped to be able to convince the four dwarves in her front hall to leave. But that being said she remembered all too well the stubbornness of dwarves and knew that there was very little hope of getting the four to leave without giving them something of equal value in return.

“Lass,” She heard Bofur splutter, his brown eyes wide with shock, “You-you have a child.” It wasn’t a question but she answered it as if it were one.

“Yes,” she felt her back stiffening in defence – not them too, surely, “what of it?”

She refused to put up with any kind of misery from them about having a child out of wedlock. She absolutely refused.

“We didn’t know you had a child.” Ori gasped his eyes wide with absolute delight that made Bilbo momentarily forget that she was in a rather complicated and almost dangerous situation and she found herself fighting back an amused grin.

“That’s because I didn’t have one when I left with you lot almost five years ago.” Which was of course true, she hadn’t had a child when she left with them on their mad adventure. No instead she had returned home with a babe growing within her belly.

With this thought, she started to fidget again, guessing that surely one of them would make the connections now and know exactly who her child’s father was.

She wondered how much time she would have, when one of them did finally make the connection, to escape before they shook themselves of their shock and came after her.

Not very long, she guessed, especially not once Kili saw the connection; she would have no chance of escaping with her baby from him.

She felt tears once more prick in her eyes. She was going to lose her baby!

Whatever friendship the four might still feel towards her would be gone the moment they realised whose child she had birthed. They would take him from her, no matter how much she might plead with them not to.

She heard a groan and saw that Bofur now had his hand pressed to his brow.

He knew, he had finally seen it. He knew.

She watched in agony as he looked down at her son who was peering around her legs, biting hard upon her bottom lip as she saw him smile at her baby and listen to her little one’s giggle before he buried his face within her skirt folds.

She clutched her baby closer to her as his eyes lifted to meet hers.

Please. Please, please, please.

“I’m sorry, Lass. So very sorry.”

Then don’t take my son from me, please! I beg of you, don’t take him! He’s all I have, she begged silently with her eyes.

She heard Bifur give a small grunt and saw that he too had seen the connection and was looking quite upset while the two younger dwarves simply looked confused as they tried to get a glimpse of her baby.

“S’not your fault.” She mumbled as she looked away from them and down at her child who was looking up at her with his beautiful eyes and lopsided grin.

She stroked his beautiful raven locks lovingly, fearing that this might be her last chance to do so.

“What’s going on?” She heard Kili ask, could hear the suspicion in his voice and wondered if she could somehow get Bifur to restrain him for a moment or two while she made a bolt for it.

Out of all them, the youngest – no second youngest she reminded herself wincing – of Durin’s line would be the most likely to take action against her for this latest in her already impressive list of betrayals against them.

He would be the one out of the four of them who would take her child from her and return him to his uncle, her baby’s father. How could he do anything but that?

Not only was Thorin his king, but also his blood, family. Kili would never betray his family with keeping Frodo a secret simply because she begged him to.

It was over, it was all over. Kili might as well run her through with one of his arrows now to save her from the pain and agony that taking her son away from her will cause.

She heard Ori give a gasp of understanding and her last instincts of fight or flight died and her shoulders slumped.

Sighing heavily and fighting back bitter tears, she coaxed her child to stand in front her, her heart breaking as she watched him do so, his little fist pressed against his mouth as he surveyed the dwarves in front of them solemnly as they gaped back at him.

At another time Bilbo would have probably found their expressions to have been amusing but now, now she was simply consumed with a sense of bitterness and defeat, her hand itching to have her little blade Sting in it instead of the useless umbrella that she still held.

“I’m gonna kill him!” Bilbo jumped and stared at Kili in disbelief at the venom in his words. “That Bastard! That complete and utter bastard! I’m gonna…”

“Kili,” she cried out in shocked to hear the lad, who had once idolised his uncle, speak such harsh words out against his uncle with such venom as she clapped her hands over her baby’s young ears. When? How had this happened?

“Please,” she added trying to calm the lad down for he looked close to breaking something. The lad fell silent but he was now looking at her and her baby with a pained expression.

“Did you… Did he know… when he… did he know?” Kili stuttered, struggling to speak full coherent sentences as he continued to gape at his little bastard cousin.

Bilbo shook her head quickly, not wanting the lad to explode over his uncle once more.

“No. And neither did I, so you can stop right there with trying to blame my exile on this.” She hadn’t meant to growl, but her desire to protect her child was burning strongly within her heart.

“I wasn’t going to.” Kili spluttered. He looked so confused and torn that Bilbo almost, almost felt sorry for him, if it weren’t for the next words out of his mouth. “He wouldn’t have exiled you if he had known about the little one.”

“Oh,” she sneered, “well that’s reassuring.”She snapped back at him furiously, “would he have kept me until I gave birth to my son and then exiled me? Lovely, always knew that he was a charming fellow…”

“Mama?” her child’s voice broke through her rant and she felt anger melt as she looked down at him and his puzzled expression

She didn’t look away from her son when she heard Kili mumbled that that hadn’t been what he had meant, but she knew that if she looked at him now, she would feel inclined to forgive and she wasn’t quite ready to forgive him just yet, not with the threat of him still stealing away her baby still hung heavily over her head.

“What his name?” Ori asked and she had to fight back a smile. Dear Ori, he always hated tension within the company, even more so than Bofur and Bombur, and was always trying to find ways to ease it, even though usually he was terrified to go anywhere near the ones who were usually causing the tension, say ah… His King, for example.

Still his question did pose a few… issues. Her child’s name was hardly what one would consider a proper dwarrow name and certainly not one that would be given to a child of a king, even if said child was indeed the bastard child of said king.

“Sweetheart,” Frodo twisted his head to look up at her, “why don’t you introduce yourself.” She ran her fingers through her lad’s hair encouragingly.

She felt him press against her legs shyly for a moment before saying in careful and precise words, just as she had taught him.

“Frodo Baggins, at yor serfice.”

“Pleasure to meet you Frodo Baggins.” Bofur replied with a grin that she well remembered as he bowed, “Bofur at yours.”

“And Ori.” Ori beamed as he too bowed.

Bifur let out a grunt as he smiled and bowed to the little lad.

Bilbo looked hesitantly towards Kili who had fallen silent, his eyes focused on her boy. She swallowed nervously as he came to kneel in front of her son, her nervousness only growing when her lad pressed himself once more against her legs.

“Kili son of Dis, nephew of the King under the Mountain, son of the line of Durin, at yours.” The young prince said softly to the little lad.

Bilbo felt her lips twitch into a small smile when she heard her son’s small “E’llo.”

“Hello.” Kili replied with a small smile, reaching out and gently flicked Frodo’s nose causing him to giggle.

Bilbo heaved a small, relieved sigh before giving her four old friends a small and tired smile.

“I suppose you’re all hungry and would like something to eat?”

She giggled as she listen to them protest against her offer for food only for their bellies to start growling out in hunger at the mention of food.

“Alright go to the kitchen, you know where it is, while I’ll go and settle this one back down.” She giggled as she leant her wicked umbrella up against wall of the hall and carefully lifted her son into her arms. Still just a baby and he was already getting too heavy for her.

“ut Mama, me not tired.” Frodo grumbled as he rubbed his eyes sleepily and already laying his head down upon her shoulder. “I wanna tay ith u and the warves. Peeses?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart. But you’ll see them in the morning.” She reassured him with a fond smile, “say goodnight to the dwarves.”

“Nigh nigh.” Her baby mumbled, his face pressing against her neck, yawning widely.

Bilbo smiled as the four dwarves wished him good night before she walked carefully back up the hall for his bedroom, to tuck him back into bed.

She gently tucked him into his cot, pulling up the handmade quilt she had made for him in the final months of her pregnancy, decorated with the more cheerful moments of her journey to the Lonely Mountain, up and around him, smiling when her son reached blindly out for his soft bear toy, cuddling it closely to his chest and sighing contently.

She gently brushed a few stray dark curls from his forehead before she leant down and kissed him goodnight.

“Sleep well, my darling boy.”

She shut his bedroom door until it was open just a crack before heading off in the direction of her kitchen to deal with four impatient, hungry dwarves.

She didn’t even bother trying to fight back the grin that was playing on her lips as she entered her kitchen.

Chapter Text

When Bilbo walked into her kitchen, she wasn’t overly surprised to see what her guests had gotten up to while she had been tucking her son back into bed. They were all helping themselves to whatever food she had left on the kitchen shelves or the table.

She also wasn’t surprise to see them eating as if they had never seen food before. It had been a common sight whenever they had decent food in front of them. Well, besides the time in Rivendell but that was their loss.

“Would you like me to cook you up something?” She asked, shaking her head and trying not to laugh. She failed with the pitiful look they all gave her, so still chuckling she went to her well stocked pantry and pulled out all the ingredients she would need for a quick but hearty soup which she placed into a basket for her to carry everything with ease, along with throwing in a few bits and pieces that would tide the hungry dwarves over until the soup had finished cooking.

“You’re lucky I wanted to make a soup tomorrow,” she announced as she walked back into the kitchen with her basket full of food, “everything is already cut up and ready to go in.”

She placed the basket onto the table and started unloading it, chucking various articles of food at the dwarves to eat while she cooked.

It made her happy, cooking for a group again. Even if this one was quite a bit smaller than the one she had once cooked for.

That is, of course, until Kili opened his mouth and started asking the awkward questions she had known were coming, but had hoped the lad would have the patience to wait til morning to ask them.

“Why didn’t you come back after the battle?” was the first question he asked, which she supposed considering all the other questions he could have asked first, this was one of the least painful questions to ask. She finished filling up her soup pot with water to boil over the small fire before turning around to answer his question.

“Hit my head and fell into a ditch,” She started simply, unconsciously lifting a hand to the nasty scar that cut across her brow. “And when I came to, the battle was over, and the side of the ditch I just so happened to crawl out of was the side facing Laketown. It wasn’t on purpose that I didn’t come back, my mind was simply too blurred to know where “back” actually was. It wasn’t until I reached the edge of Mirkwood – and started to wondered how I was going to get through it again – I released how far I had come. I was thinking of coming back, but Gandalf and Beorn had caught up to me by this point and they were all for returning me home.”

“And the baby?” Bilbo sighed heavily.

“I found out about the baby when we reached Beorn’s home. I was terribly ill and,” she started to blush now with embarrassment, “Beorn had to carry me the last few miles because I was too weak and ill to walk but couldn’t bear to be on Gandalf’s grand horse. It was Beorn who informed me of my condition.” She hung her head in remembrance of that awkward and embarrassing conversation. Of course, it wasn’t for Beorn. He just stated that she had a babe growing inside of her and needed to take better care of herself before walking off to patrol his lands, leaving her to splutter and gap after him while Gandalf muttered darkly about the integrity and stupidity of dwarves.

“So who else knows about the baby? Besides obviously, your family and friends…” Kili started only for Bilbo to interrupt him with a snort.

“And just about everyone else in the Shire! Word gets around here fairly fast, Kili.” She sighed, “Especially about a child born out of wedlock without a father in sight.”

She watched her old friends wince but she didn’t give them time to say anything – what could they say? Really. Nothing, nothing at all. – before resuming answering Kili’s question. “Besides from everyone in the Shire? Beorn and Gandalf, obviously, some goblins but I doubt they’ll be telling anybody, not unless they’ve learnt to talk without bodies attached to their heads, ah,” She felt her cheeks heat up again, this time from nervousness for the next person she was going to list was sure to annoy at least one member of the group present, “Lord Elrond. He checked on the baby’s progress, making sure he was growing well and so on.” She said quickly, not in the mood to defend her elven friend from prejudice dwarves. However she didn’t get the protests or growls of anger she would have gotten if other members of the company were present and Bilbo felt a swell of relief and fondness for the dwarves who were sitting at her kitchen table.

“Anyone else?” Bofur asked gently.

Bilbo shook her head.

“Not that I know of. I mean, there were elves in Rivendell who saw me and would have guessed my condition but only Gandalf, Lord Elrond and Beorn know who the fa…” She trailed off softly, staring intently down at her hands as she started to add ingredients to her soup. How can it still hurt, even now?

“Why didn’t you send word back to us? You must know with time, Thorin would...”

“Thorin would have what?” Bilbo snapped, rounding on poor Ori who shrank in his seat, “forgiven me? If it weren’t for me, we’d all be long dead from starvation, locked inside that damn mountain, all because our leader was too stubborn or greedy or whatever it was that made him no longer able to see sense and pay compensation for the damages our, our actions caused! If he had just let me give Bard and the rest my share of the treasure, I never would have taken the damn stone as a peace offering to begin with. It was all his fault!” She knew she was being very childish, but she was so sick and tired of hearing how everything that had happened to her in recent years was entirely her fault, she felt justified to blame a great chunk of her current mess on the damn King under the Mountain!

The four dwarves looked at her, their expression varying from surprise, fear in Ori’s case and Bofur, Bofur...

The dwarf was laughing, laughing!? His deep belly laugh with his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“What is so funny?” Bilbo demanded her cheek feeling hot for she truly hated being laughed at, especially when she was being laughed at over something she felt so strongly about.

“Oh lass,” he chuckled, wiping his eyes with his hand, “Forgive me; I wasn’t laughing at you, as much at the truth you speak.”

“So,” Bilbo started cautiously, “you agree with me then?”

“Always did,” Bofur replied solemnly, his laughter now forgot, “just didn’t get a chance to say as much.”

“Yes, it did all happen rather quickly, didn’t it?” Bilbo said cringing as she remembered her great moment of disgrace, her heart throbbing painfully.

“I wasn’t – I’m not trying to keep him a secret to be deceitful or vindictive to – towards Thorin, I – I just wanted to come home. And I thought it would be best to allow him time to cool down. And now…” she looked around her cosy kitchen, “how am I supposed to tell him now that he has a son?” she looked back at the four dwarves.

“We could…” Ori started before Kili cut him off.

“No, we won’t.” the young dwarf prince said, shaking his head.

“You won’t, what?” Bilbo asked confused. She had been certain Kili, out of all of them, would be the one wishing to tell his Uncle of his son the most, despite their obvious problems.

“Tell Thorin. He can come here and find out for himself.” Kili said crossing his arms ignoring the horrified look Bilbo was giving him along with the annoyed looks from his fellow dwarves.

“He’s coming here?!” Bilbo squeaked in horror.

“What? No, of course not.” Kili replied quickly, “No, but if we told him, he would… actually, he’d probably send a scout to see if what we spoke was in fact, true, and then he would send an envoy, but himself? Hardly! Our esteemed king rarely ever leaves his mountain.” Kili sneered.

Bilbo felt a little torn by this, relieved that the chances of Thorin coming to the Shire were close to nil, even if the four dwarves did tell him he had a son from her and fury that he wouldn’t come for himself to see if he indeed had a son.

“You won’t tell him?” Bilbo asked locking eyes with Kili while the other three hesitated. He met her gaze without hesitation or doubt.

“No, not a word.” The dwarf prince replied, and Bilbo was torn between the desire to hug him and slap him for his lack of family loyalty. Honestly, when had this happened? The lad adored his uncle only a few years ago. What had caused this change?

She bit down on the inside of her mouth. Please don’t let it be because of her. Please…

“Are you going to keep the little one a secret from Thorin forever?” Ori asked softly, “I know what Thorin did…” He trailed off at the looks the others in the room were shooting him, “I mean, not that Thorin doesn’t deserve not knowing,” the dwarf lad hurried on, “but it’s not fair on the little one. All children should have the right to know who sired them, shouldn’t they?”

Bilbo sighed, for of the scholar lad was right.

“I never planned on keeping Frodo’s parentage a secret from him,” she took a deep breath and steeled herself as she continued, “or Thorin. I just, I want to have him as my baby for as long as I possibly can before he inevitably gets ripped from me.”

“Bilbo…” Bofur started to speak, but Bilbo held up her hand to silence him.

“My plan is to tell Frodo of his parentage on his thirty-third birthday – thirty-three that is when a hobbits comes of age – and I will give him a letter that if he wishes, he can take to the Lonely Mountain and to Thorin, explaining everything. Gandalf has agreed with this and has even offered to go with Frodo when the time comes.” She swallowed nervous as she looked at the dwarves who were all sitting back and thinking deeply over what she had said.

“Does – does that sound reasonable?” she asked softly.

“Reasonable? More than Thorin deserves.” Kili snorted, “But reasonable for the lad?” he sighed, “it’s hard growing up without a father, or mother.” He nodded at Bilbo. “So, I suppose it’s a fair enough plan.”

“Do you want to write up a contract, Ori?” Bilbo asked the young scribe, “and…”

“I don’t think you need to do that, lass.” Bofur’s face was pained as he interrupted her, “we trust you.”

“But it will keep her safe,” Ori said, fumbling with his satchel, “if anyone else from Ered Luin or Erebor were to find out about the little one and discovered whose child he is, a contract stating her plans for him would save her from…”

“A great deal of unpleasantness from temperamental dwarves?” Bilbo asked dryly, and Ori nodded sheepishly as he pulled out a notebook, a quill and a small pot of ink.

“Who else would come this far into the Shire to find out about the little lad?” Kili asked, clearly thinking the whole idea was stupid.

“You did, Kili.” Bofur pointed out before Bilbo could speak, “on the mere whim of another.”

“And as I said before,” Bilbo added, “word spreads fast around the Shire. If anyone, say Dwalin,” she swallowed thickly as she thought of Thorin huge right hand dwarf, “were to ask the right questions to the right hobbits, he would quickly discover that I had come back from our quest, heavily pregnant, birthing a child out of wedlock. It wouldn’t be too hard for him to connection the dots. He wouldn’t stop to ask any questions of me, he would take Frodo, and this contract might be the only thing that saves me from losing my child forever.”

“He wouldn’t…” Ori started before sighing and shaking his head.

“That’s what you’ve been living in fear of for all these years?” Bofur asked softly, “one of us or all of us finding out about the little one and coming and taking him from you?”

Bilbo didn’t look up from her soup as she nodded her head slowly.

“We won’t.” Ori promises, his head bouncing up and down on his neck causing Bilbo to giggle softly.

“Thank you.” She whispered weakly as she moved to grab down some bowls from the shelf so she could start serving the dwarves.

“Have you been given a hard time with, you know, your little one…”

“Being born out of wedlock?” Bilbo finished for the unusually sombre Bofur. “Ah, no more than usual I suppose. I have family members pressuring me to marry so the family can save face.”

“Yes we heard,” Bofur replied trying not to look too amused while Bilbo turned pink as she remembered what she had been snapping before she had opened her front door and saw it was them standing behind it and not her cousin-in-law.

“Oh, yes. Sorry about that. My cousin’s wife came around this afternoon, badgering me to marry her son so they can finally get their slippery hands on my home, saying I’ve disgraced the family and that people are talking and all that nonsense. I’m quite fed up with the woman, but if I do give into my desire to sock her one in the eye, people really will talk.” She sighed while the dwarves chuckled as they gratefully took the bowls of soup she offered them. Even though it hadn’t stewed for very long at all, the soup still tasted to them like the near damn best thing any of them had eaten in all their lives.

“But I’m not going to. I didn’t want to marry before I went on that damn, mad quest of ours – that was why I went on it to begin with, you know, so I would get out of getting married – and I have no desire to marry now that I’m back from it, especially not to Lotho Sackville-Baggins of all people!”

She blushed at the amused looks she was receiving from her friends at her rant.

“Well, it’s true.” She muttered in embarrassment as she started to dish out her soup into bowls, “you know it is, I told you all as much during the quest.”

“No one should be able to force you into marrying anyone you don’t love, lass.” Bofur patted her hand, though a part of him wondered if she would still have felt this way if a certain dwarf had asked her to marry him before everything went horribly wrong.

“Too right they can’t!” Kili agreed, smacking his fist against the kitchen table, “show me who is trying to force you into marriage and I’ll make ‘em wish they had never learnt the word.”

“Yeah!” Ori agreed as he smacked his own fist against the table as well; almost upsetting his bowl of soup.

Bilbo giggled at their enthusiasm.

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind the next time Lobelia comes calling.” She chuckled as she got some soup for herself, pulling a face at the lack of flavour in it for the lack of proper stewing time; though she still smiled as she watched the dwarves wolf it down with gusto.

Even though the dwarves still had more questions to ask of their hobbit, they instead informed her of what had been happening with them for the past couple of years, how the rebuild of Erebor, Dale and Laketown were fairing since the death of Smaug and the Battle of the Five Armies. They spoke fondly of their company, of the jobs and tasks they now do for Erebor and Thorin.

“Bifur and I have a workshop, making all the toys we have ever wished to make.” Bofur informed her proudly, “And Bombur has been made head cook.”

“Only problem is he eats all his cooking before it even leaves the kitchen, so we never get to taste it.” Kili stage whispered to her causing her to laugh as Bofur lightly smacked the prince of his head.

“He doesn’t eat all his cooking.” Bofur chided the prince.

“Just most of it?” Bilbo chuckled as Bofur sighed in defeat while the others roared with laughter. They quickly checked themselves when Bilbo motion for them to keep it down, she did after all have a young child and old father trying to sleep and would be cranky in the morning if they didn’t get a good night’s rest.

Speaking of sleep, Bilbo pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. She was quite tired after all the excitement this night had brought.

“Time for bed?” Bofur teased, and Bilbo stuck her tongue out at him tiredly. It had always been something of joke for the dwarves about how early Bilbo would take herself off to her bed roll. They seemingly forgot their own exhaustion from a day of hard riding or walking once they were sitting around a fire and had some food in their belly.

“Yes, yes it is, unless you four feel like chasing an excitable, adventurous, sticky-beak toddler all-around tomorrow by yourself while his mama sleeps.”

Instead of looking horrified by the suggestion, the four dwarves grinned at her in delight, nodding their heads eagerly. Bilbo groaned.

“I’m going to regret opening my front door tonight, aren’t I?” She sighed as the four dwarves grinned innocently back at her.

“Yes, I thought as much. Come on, I’ll show you where you can sleep. Leave your bowls where they are, I’ll wash them in the morning.” She gestured for the four dwarves to follow her out of the kitchen and down the hall towards her multiple spare guest bedrooms near the back of her hobbit-hole.

“Sleep well.” She said and after a moments more hesitation, she gave into the desire she had been fighting since the moment she saw the four of them standing on her door step. She hugged them, expressing without the need of words how much she had missed them all and how glad she was to have them here.

“Good night.” The four dwarves beamed at her and returned the sentiment with a bow before she left them to retreat to her own bedroom.

She changed into her night clothes with fumbling movements and collapsed gratefully upon her bed, falling into a deep sleep in seconds.

Chapter Text

Bungo Baggins woke to what sounded like every pot and pan in his hobbit-hole being clanged together repeatedly. He thought for a moment it might be his little grandson, who had quite a knack at getting his hands upon pots and pans and a liking to bang them together. But when he heard what sounded like several male voices speaking from the direction of the kitchen, he immediately dismissed the thought of his grandson and got up to see who exactly was causing such a commotion this early in the morning.

It better not be any Took or Brandbuck relations making themselves at home. They’re almost as bad house guests as his awful nephew and his dreadful wife.

Oh, how he would like to give that woman an earful for the things she had dared to say to his daughter yesterday afternoon.

“Only,” he muttered sadly to himself as he dressed carefully into one of his best waistcoat and trousers, “I never seem to have the strength to say what I think these days. Drat this illness of mine!”

Once he was respectably dressed he made his way slowly, with the aid of his walking stick, down the hall for the kitchen, his frown deepening as he heard the male voices more clearly.

They don’t sound like any of his in-laws, but who else could it possibly? It didn’t sound like Gandalf, the mad wizard who visited his daughter and grandson periodically and had convinced him to allow his daughter to leave home, the eve of that blasted wedding, to go one some adventure or another.

Bungo Baggins had never quite forgiven the wizard for this, not when his dearest daughter returned to him unhappy and heartbroken with a swollen belly but with no word to speak about her child’s, his grandchild’s, father.

Yes, the wizard had kept his promise to bring her back to him alive, but had broken the promise to bring her back whole, which he most certainly did not do!

His daughter was far from whole, even though her smile was slowly coming back and she was no longer looking off into the distance with a pained and wistful expression. She was no longer the happy hobbit lass that she was before that mad adventure.

He took one step into his kitchen before freezing at the sight within.

Dwarves! What are dwarves doing in his kitchen this early in the morning?

They appeared to be cooking breakfast though he was baffled at how they could produce such loud noises!

“Good – good morning.” He stuttered out causing, to his ever so slight amusement, the dwarves in his kitchen to jump. He would have fully smiled if he had not gotten a good look at the dwarves.

Did one have some kind of metal sticking out of his forehead? Another had a terrible scar across his face with a great chunk of his nose missing!

“Good morning.” That very dwarf merrily greeted him with a wide smile and gesturing for Bungo to take a seat… at his own kitchen table.

“Bofur at your service” the dwarf added with a bow.

“Bungo Baggins at yours.” Bungo replied weakly as the other three (well it was more like two). The third, the one with the bit of metal sticking out of his head was introduced by Bofur – introduced themselves along with offering him their services.

“May I ask when you four all got here?” Bungo asked weakly as he watched the dwarves move around his kitchen with surprising familiarity even though this was the first time that he knew of they had ever been in his kitchen.

“Last night, my good sir.” This was supplied by a younger dwarf than Bofur, one with thick dark locks but without much of beard, unlike the other three who had beards that were elaborately braided with beads decorating them.

Bungo gave this dwarf a particularly long, hard look as he had the same colour hair as Bungo’s young grandson. And it wasn’t just the hair colour either, there were several features that this dwarf had the Bungo was sure his grandson shared.

Was this dwarf his grandson’s father? If he is, Bungo should be giving him a good chewing out for abandoning his daughter during her time of need and for not marrying her like a respectable fellow.

However, words refused to pass from his lips as usual. So he simply sat at his kitchen table and watched the dwarves cook up his pantry without a word. They spoke plenty without his input and yet he understood very little of what they spoke even though they spoke in the common tongue.

They seemed like a friendly bunch if he got nothing else from them, cheerful and not arrogant like he had always been led to believe all dwarves were. He tried to remember what little his daughter had told him about her adventure, about the dwarves that she had gone with.

“My-my daughter, she knows that you are here?” Bungo asked softly once the dwarves had started to slow in their mad cooking frenzy.

“Oh yes sir, she was the one who let us in last night.” A meek young dwarf – at least Bungo believe that he was young; he looked it, even though he had more of a beard than the dark haired fellow – with reddish brown hair and beard said.

Bungo gave a jerky nod. Funny, his daughter told him off for opening the door to whoever knocked.

“You-you are the dwarves. The dwarves from that mad venture my lass went on.” And came back to me broken-hearted, he left that unsaid and watched as the dwarves nodded.

“Yes, there are nine more of us from our original company, but we’re the only ones who have come to visit.” Bofur informs him with a smile.

Bungo nodded, relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with thirteen dwarves all at once.

“Are you,” he tried but his tongue tangled and already he could feel his mind start to wander. No, not now, he mentally groaned and forced himself to focus, “none of you – are any of you the – my grandson’s?”

“No.” Bofur shook his head gently, a sad look in his eyes, “no, none of us are your grandson’s Pa. We didn’t even know of the lad until last night.”

Bungo shoulder’s slumped, half with relief as this would mean his daughter and grandson would not be leaving him and annoyance that his grandson’s father was still refusing to show himself, that wretch!

“He doesn’t know either.” The young dwarf, Kili was it added.

“So he is a useless bugger than.” Bungo grumbled before blushing for he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He had always made a point of keeping his thoughts about his grandson’s father to himself so as to not upset his daughter with them.

To his surprise the dwarves laughed.

“Apologies.” Bofur offered once the dwarves had calmed down, “it’s just we’ve been thinking a similar thing about our esteemed leader.”

“Esteemed leader?” Bungo asked in bewilderment.

“How much has Bilbo told you about our adventure?” Bofur asked slowly and carefully.

“Not very much,” Bungo replied huffily, crossing his arms against his chest. It had always frustrated him with how tight lipped his daughter was about her venture, “ all she’s told me about her venture was that she met elves, that there was a lot of walking involved and something about reclaiming a mountain and treasure or some nonsense like that.”

“Don’t know whether to be insulted or amused.” Bungo heard Kili whisper to the other young dwarf who giggled behind his hand. They both quieted down when Bofur shot them a warning look.

“Yes, our adventure went something like that,” Bofur agreed, “and the leader of our venture goes by the name of Thorin Oakenshield and…”

“And he’s my grandson’s father is he, this Mister Oakenshield?”

“Oakenshield is more of a title, but yes, he is.” Bofur replied with a nod.

“I don’t care much for titles; I care about my daughter, about how she came home to me with a broken-heart and a birthing a child all by herself. I care about my grandson who is growing up without a father. I care about the fact that there are awful people around the Shire who are talking badly about my child and grandchild because this dwarf hasn’t taken responsibility by doing the right thing by my daughter as any decent fellow should, be him hobbit, dwarf, man or elf.” Bungo felt both weaken and exhilarated as he finished. It had been a long, long time since he had spoken so many words without breath. He was pleased to see the dwarves were all hanging their heads in shame.

“You are right, of course.” Bofur replied slowly, “Thorin should be taking responsibility for what he had done and please believe me when I say he most likely would have if he had known of Bilbo’s condition before she, ah, left us to return home. But he did not, and so he has no idea that he has sired a child. But,” Bofur continued on quickly when he saw that Bungo was opening his mouth to protest, “that is of course no excuse for all that Bilbo has suffered these past few years. So on our leaders behalf, please allow us to ask for your forgiveness and speak our humblest apologies for all the grief and suffering that Bilbo has suffered on Thorin’s behalf.”

“Well now,” Bungo says feeling quite at a loss for the dwarves before him look quite genuine in their remorse.

“Well now.” He said again, “I suppose it’s truly up to my lass on whether or not to forgive you and of course him, but I suppose…” he gave a weak shrug of his shoulders before nodding his head, “I accept your apologies.”

The four dwarves actually looked relieved, as if they truly cared to have his forgiveness and for him accept their apologies.

“I don’t suppose I’ll come into my kitchen to find him cooking breakfast will I?” he asked, feeling quite comfortable in the dwarves presence now, comfortable enough to even bring out his pipe and light it, despite the chastising he will receive from his daughter for smoking in the kitchen.

The dwarf known as Kili snorted. “Unlikely.”

“Will there ever be a chance that I meet the fellow?”

The four dwarves hesitated.

“Depends.” Bofur started cautiously.

“On?”

“On whether he ever finds about the lad.” Kili replied flopping down beside on the bench.

“You’re not going to tell him?”

“Bilbo doesn’t wish us to and,” the young dwarf grinned mischievously, “I don’t feel so inclined to tell him myself. Do you?”

“For my daughter’s sake, no.” Bungo agreed, chewing on the end of his pipe, “but for my grandson…”

“Bilbo spoke of telling Frodo about everything on his thirty-third birthday.” Bofur offered.

“Did she? Yes, that does sound like something she would think of doing. I don’t suppose this fellow is anywhere near to here, is he?”

When the dwarves shook their heads, Bungo sighed.

“Thought as much. Always did find it curious that nobody besides you lot came after her. Can’t imagine why anyone would even think to let her go but,” he blushed again, “of course, I am her father, so I am biased.”

“No, we agree with you completely. Thorin was a fool for letting her go.” Kili grinned back at him.

“Did he love her?” Bungo asked, not sure if it would make the situation a little better or not if he knew that this Thorin fellow loved his daughter or not.

“We thought he did...” Kili started, but Bofur interrupted him.

“He does, he just… has a hard time showing it to rest of Middle-Earth.”

“My daughter included?” Bungo asked a little dryly.

“Your daughter in particular.”  Bofur nodded. “But he does love her and misses her greatly.”

“Then why isn’t he here then?” Bungo asked hotly, “begging for her forgiveness and…”

“It’s complicated.” The dwarves sheepishly interrupted him.

“How so?”

Before any of the dwarves could answer him, a cautious voice spoke out from the doorway of the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Bungo looked towards the doorway of the kitchen where his daughter stood, his grandson on her hip, looking into the room with a guarded, caution expression.

“Morning.” The dwarves greeted his daughter with wide cheerful grins.

“Morning.” His daughter replied with small smile playing on her lips and as her guarded expression started to slip.

“Orning!” he smiled at his little grandson who was squirming in his mother’s arms to be let down, his big blue eyes wide with delight as he took in the strangers in the kitchen.

“Warves! Mama, warves!” the little lad squealed in absolute delight. “Warves ayed!”

“Yes, yes they did. I told you that they were still here, did I not?” his daughter said to her squirming child with an indulgent smile that had the little boy beamed in return.

“We cooked breakfast.” The red haired dwarf said with a wide grin, gesturing to all the food lay out on the kitchen table.

“Yes, yes, you did.” Bilbo was laughing as she shifted Frodo on her hip. “Is there any food left in the pantry?” she teased and the dwarves rolled their eyes at the way she teased them.

“Of course.” Bofur said as he moved forward to her side, his arms moving shyly to take the lad from his mother, the boy more than eager to be in his arms and examine his odd face.

Bungo, who had watched his daughter rebuff many an offer to hold her son for her, was surprised when she relinquished her son into the dwarf’s arms without so much a word of protest before moving forward to get herself some breakfast.

Something, he realised at the grumble of his belly, he should do himself.

And so he did, sitting back contently at his kitchen table, watching in silence his daughter move and talk amongst these strange dwarves with ease and comfortable air that she never possessed when talking and moving amongst members of their own race, their own family!

A part of him, the very pure and ridged Baggins side of him knows he should be disturbed by this, horrified even, but the more mellow side him, the side that had him fall head of heels for the Great Took’s eldest daughter, the wild and beautiful Belladonna, is simply pleased to see his daughter happy, a sight too rare for his liking.

A part of him fears that she will leave him again, this time for good. He thinks back on those few and rare moments that she had told him about her adventure. How her eyes would glow and sparkle as she spoke of far off place, of grand people who never aged, of great eagles and men who can turn into bears. Of proud and magnificent dwarrow lords and warriors who never forgot and never forgave, of a lone mountain that stood tall above all others.

How she looked then was how she looked now as she talked with the dwarves, her eyes glowing, the infamous Took side of her coming forth and once more shining out as it had done when she was a young hobbit lass.

He wondered how these dwarves saw her. They clearly thought of her as an equal, respected her and thought her one of them. One in particular looked at her with an expression that Bungo could only describe as one of love.

Would they try and take her away again? Bungo wasn’t sure, and he feared the answer, feared it because he knew she would go. If they asked, she would go with them, he was sure of it, for she no longer belonged in the Shire.

Once I’m gone, he thinks sadly, she and Frodo will leave, leave the Shire to see the world and visit the places she spoke of and the ones she did not. She’ll leave and never return.

His heart aches a little at the thought, but he doesn’t allow it to overwhelm him. Instead he enjoys seeing his daughter happy, content to allow these dwarves to stay with them for a time, for as long as his daughter wishes, for her happiness is what he wants most in the world.

Chapter Text

The next few days for Bilbo were some of the best that she had experience in many years. She was once more amongst friends who understood and cared for her and did not think her the slightest bit odd when she started making up songs or poems on the spot about distant lands and grand creatures.

In fact, after a few verses, the dwarves would usually join in, offering suggestion here and there to help the flow of the tune or poem. They also, after they found out about it of course, were very interested in her book.

There and Back Again: A Hobbit’s Tale was the name of her tale and recounted their quest for Erebor from her point of view. She hadn’t finished writing it of course. Too busy was she taking care of an active child and ill father, not to mention the ache in her chest that she felt whenever she thought back over their quest, but she had written enough for the four dwarves to comment over, which they did with a great deal of delight and amusement as they read over the beginning days of their adventure from her how she saw them.

Once they had read as much as she had so far written they begged for more, even when she laughingly point out they had lived the adventure her book spoke of and did not need it written down for them to know it.

Even so, they argued in return, the book was written with such humour and lightness and had such a fresh feel to it that they simply wanted to read more of it.

Bilbo had shaken her head, laughingly saying that the book wasn’t meant to be a favourite bedtime story but a recounting of what happened during their quest for Erebor.

“Leave the history and all the boring stuff for Balin and Ori to write up,” Kili had said with a firmness to his voice that reminded Bilbo painfully of his Uncle. At least with Kili, he spoke with a smile instead of a seemingly permanent grim scowl, “you write the tale that will be remembered forever and a day.”

The other dwarves nodded their encouragement at this and with that in mind; Bilbo had started to write once more. It was quite a relief to write down her memories and thoughts about their quest down into the book and it helped her to deal with her lingering grief and sadness of what happened at the end, at the mountain and before the great battle.

 * * *

The sun was warm upon her features from where she was pottering around her garden, listening to her son’s giggles as Kili and Ori played with him, throwing him up into the air and chasing him all around the hill and underneath the great tree that grew above the hobbit-hole. Bifur and Bofur sat side by side on the grassy slope, whittling away at some wood.

“Mama! Mama!” She felt a small thud against her legs as her little lad crashed into her from full speed.

“Hello there, what are you doing?” She smiled down at him.

“Unning rom te mean gob-ins.” Frodo cried with a wide grin before letting out a loud squeal as Kili suddenly jumped in front of them.

“Honestly,” Bilbo snorted with amusement, “what are you teaching my son!”

“Ah…” Kili replied intelligently before smiling the innocent smile that he had often sent her way during their quest whenever she had been bordering on being cranky with him for something or other he and his older brother had done.

“Kili, he has no need to know what goblins are.” Bilbo moaned, thinking of the nightmares she still suffered from the foul and evil beings.

“We’re only playing Bilbo.” Ori said as he popped up from behind Kili.

“I know, I’m just…” she trailed off as she looked back down at her son who was grinning widely back at the two dwarves.

“Trying to protect him from the big, bad world?” Kili offered and she nodded.

“Yes, exactly. Please, can’t I keep him innocent of the world outside the Shire for a little while longer? He’s just a baby.”

“He’s going to learn about them sooner or later.” Kili grumbled unhappily, shuffling his feet.

“Yes, he will most likely,” Bilbo agreed with a sigh. She wasn’t stupid or blind, her son was an adventurous little lad already and when he was older she had no doubt that he would go out into the big, bad world outside the safe and beautiful Shire, “but preferably not before his third birthday!”

“Oh, alright.” The two dwarves sighed before grinning at the little Dwobbit – Bilbo was horrified by the name that Ori and Kili had come up with for what her son was, but they refused to cease calling him it and the other two, who were older and should know better were now using the term too. Heavens above, she heard her papa calling Frodo a Dwobbit only the other day! – causing him let out another delighted squeal and to run away as fast as his little legs could carry him while the two dwarves once more gave chase.

Giggling she walked over to where the other two were whittling.

“Corrupting your boy are they?” Bofur teased as she sat down beside him and Bifur.

“Of course, how could I expect anything else from them?” she laughed as she leant back against the grass, her head back so that the sun warmed her face, smiling as she listened to her son’s giggles and the sound of Kili’s and Ori’s promises to get him.

Bofur chuckled and went back to his work while Bilbo enjoyed the sun, wishing that things could remain this way, but of course it could not and the thought ate away at her inside.

“We’ll – we’ll have to return soon.” Bofur voice said through the warm sunlight and despite its previous warmth Bilbo now found herself to be growing cold. She sat up slowly and looked back at him.

“When?”

“Not quite yet,” Bofur answered hurriedly, “but…”

“Soon.”

“Yes, we’re expected back at Erebor by the end of autumn and if we don’t…”

“The king will send out a search party?”

“That might just come by here.” Bofur nodded and Bilbo sighed, plucking at the grass beside her.

“I knew you could not stay for long,” she admitted softly, “but, I really and truly do not wish for you to go.”

“Same, lass, same.” Bofur replied as he gave her a sad smile, “But we won’t leave for a little while yet.” He reassured her and she smiled in relief. She wasn’t quite ready yet to say goodbye. Frodo certainly wasn’t. The little boy adored the dwarves that he had only known for a few days almost as much as he adored Gandalf. Bilbo was certain that Gandalf only came first in the little boy’s heart due to the fact that wizard could make such spectacular fireworks.

She was just settling down again on the grass in the warm sun again, sleep seeming almost inevitable when she heard a harsh coughing sound coming from somewhere near her front gate.

Oh no, not now. Why did the wretched woman have to come by now?

Bilbo sat up slowly and stared in unconcealed annoyance at the miserable old bat standing by her front gate staring at her in her usual snotty way. Obviously, the hobbit woman had not yet realised that Bilbo’s companions were dwarves or she would have been looking less snotty and more horrified to discover that Bilbo was once more causing disgrace to the family.

“Billanna Baggins!”

“Good afternoon Lobelia,” Bilbo called back not bothering to get up or make any motion for her cousin-in-law to enter her garden, “what can I do for you today?” This was, of course, always a stupid act of courtesy, asking a Sackville-Baggins what you can do for them for you quickly found your ear being chewed off with their numerous complaints and finding yourself stuck with them staying for numerous meals of the day.

But sadly even though Bilbo herself knew all of this quite well, it was a force of habit that had been drummed into her since her earliest hobbit lass days and it was one that was hard to break, even when you did have Sackville-Baggins calling at least once a week.

Lobelia sent her a very hard look and opened her mouth to say something but was stopped be the delighted squeal from Frodo who was being carried back to his mother underneath Kili’s arm, who was grinning almost as manically as his cousin, with Ori trotting at their heels, smiling.

“You’ve got yourself a fast little tyke, Bilbo.” Kili called beaming with pride at his cousin who was still laughing and squirming under his arm. “He’s almost as fast as…” Kili was interrupted by the horrified gasp from Lobelia who was staring at him in horror, at all the dwarves in horror before she let out a furious shriek.

“BILLANNA BAGGINS how could you!”

Bilbo sighed heavily as she got slowly to her feet, dusting off her skirt as she did so before trotting down to her front garden gate, ignoring the angry glares her dwarves were shooting at her cousin’s wife.

“How could I what, Lobelia?” Bilbo asked her cousin-in-law innocently causing Lobelia to stop glaring at the dwarves and turning her nasty gaze upon her. Bilbo braced herself for an onslaught of nasty comments.

“Dwarves, Billanna! You are consorting with dwarves again! How could you! How could you do this to the family, you selfish girl! Have you not heard the talk that others speak! The rumours? Have you forgotten everything I spoke to you about last week? Why, why must you be so selfish and bring us all down to your disgraceful level! Your father may be able to stand for this new offence, but I, I will not! Nor will my husband, you can be sure of that!” Lobelia snapped furiously at her. Bilbo forced herself not to roll her eyes at the ridiculous woman while also trying to keep her dwarves from getting involved.

She glanced back at Bofur who seemed to be the only one not ready to cause some kind of bodily harm towards her cousin-in-law, if only by just. He looked to be as angry as the rest of them. Kili looked beside himself and if weren’t for the fact that he was still holding Frodo in his arms, Bilbo was sure he would have strike Lobelia, her being of the fair gender or not.

Which would be bad, Bilbo told herself over and over again, very, very bad!

“Billanna, are you listening to me, you wretched girl?”

“Yes, Lobelia.”

“Don’t say ‘yes Lobelia’ in that tone with me, girl! I, I at least am thinking of our family while you, you are acting like, like some kind of…” She stuttered over a word that had the dwarves standing behind Bilbo snarling back at Lobelia in rage.

“Lobelia,” Bilbo spoke quickly not wishing for her cousin to be struck despite her hurtful words, “please, it’s not like that. These dwarves are my friends and are here to…”

“I know why they’re here!” Lobelia cried shrilly, “Anyone with a brain, which you are clearly missing my girl, knows why they’re here. Did you not learn that the first time? From the bastard child you already have that…”

“Please Lobelia,” She was close to begging now. She didn’t much care for what Lobelia was saying, she had heard all of this before, but she knew that the dwarves behind her did care, very much and Bilbo was growing more and more fearful of what they would do to Lobelia if she continued. “Please Lobelia, now really isn’t a good time for this.”

“Not a good time! Not a good time! Now you listen to me my girl, you may have fallen for their ways and allowed for yourself to be disgraced, by I, I will not allow for this family to be disgraced any further because of your stupidity!” she made to come into Bilbo’s garden, her whole body shaking with uncontrollable anger.

“Lobelia, no!” Bilbo cried stepping in front of her cousin-in-law.

SLAP

Bilbo staggered under the surprising force that her cousin-in-law had placed behind her hand as it hit her across her face.

“MAMA!” She heard the frighten cry of her child. She had to go and comfort him, show him that it was alright, that she was alright, but her mind had all but frozen from shock.

She had never been slapped before. Not ever, not once. Even Thorin at his most furious had never hit her. Given her a rough shake maybe, but never had he laid a hand upon her. His words had struck her enough without him landing any physically blows.

“If you strike her again,” she hears Kili say in the deadliest of voices, reminding her once more of his uncle and for a single breath she thought Thorin was standing behind her, not his nephew, “I will break your arm. I promise you.”

“Kili, don’t.” She mumbled her brain slowly stirring itself enough to allow her to speak, to move, though the blood was still humming in her ears and she still felt reasonably numb. She reaches up and gingerly touches the cheek that Lobelia has struck and winced a little, her eyes watering, though more from humiliation and fury than from actual pain. What was a little slap from a hobbit compared to being thrown and battered against rocks and being almost run through by a wicked Orc blade?

“Mama?” she felt her son’s small arms wrap around her waist as he buried his head against her hip.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced herself to look down at him and smile as she ran her fingers through his curls.

“It’s alright sweetheart, shush, it’s alright.” Bilbo whispered softly to him.

“It bloody well ain’t alright!” Bofur said coming up behind her and the next thing she knew both she and Frodo were being dragged backwards and she found herself now staring at a wall of dwarves, blocking her from her cousin-in-law. Or blocking her cousin-in-law from her.

“It’s fine!” Bilbo cried, trying to push her way passed her protective dwarves. “No harm has been done. I’m fine, please just let it be!”

“Let it be?” Kili had swung around to face her, his eyes burning with fury though they soften as they looked at her, “she slapped you! Insulted your honour and was implying that you were…”

“Yes, yes!” Bilbo cried over him, “I know all of that, I have been standing here the whole time, you know. But it doesn’t matter, do you hear me?” She spoke a little louder so that all the dwarves looked back at her, “it doesn’t matter, so please let it be!”

She pushed fully past the dwarves to look her cousin-in-law in the face. Lobelia looked to be in a state of shock, her dark eyes wide and staring at the hand that had slapped Bilbo across the face.

“Thank you, Lobelia for stopping by, but please, if you could refrain from doing so while my dwarf friends are still here, I would deeply appreciate it.”

Lobelia blinked at her for a moment, her mouth opening as if to say something before closing it again and simply gave her a sharp nod and stalked back down Bagshot Lane, her head held high.

“You shouldn’t have let her off so lightly?” Kili growled angrily.

“Oh Kili and what should I have done?” She asked as she watched her cousin-in-law disappear down the lane before turning to look up at the dwarf prince, “Break her arm?”

“No,” the prince replied, “I would have done that, but you, you should not have allowed her to say such things to you.”

“Kili,” Bilbo sighed, “she’s been saying such thing to me since I returned home four years ago, the only difference with today was that you four were present. Seeing you and realising what you were, must have finally caused her to… snap?” Bilbo wasn’t excusing her cousin-in-laws behaviour, no chance of that, but she couldn’t deal with the woman that way her dwarves wanted her too.

“So this has happened before?” Bofur asked looking at Bilbo’s throbbing cheek with fury that was so unlike him.

“What? No! This,” she waved a hand at her cheek, “has never happened before today. Usually she just snaps at me for awhile and then leaves after eating our best cakes and has drunk quite a bit of tea and sherry.”

“You shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of…” Kili spoke the final words of his sentence in dwarvish that Bilbo did not understand but was certain that whatever he had said was not very polite or complimentary towards Lobelia so she gave him a sharp smack to his arm just as both Bofur and Bifur gave him sharp slaps over the back of his head.

“What? It’s true! Bilbo shouldn’t have to put up with this kind of disrespect within her homeland.”

“Well, I do.” Bilbo muttered as she lifted Frodo onto her hip and started to make her way up the front steps to go instead her home, “So please stop threatening to break the arms of everyone who insults me, you’ll find yourself with aching fingers from the sheer number of arms you’ll be forced to break to keep your promise.”

“But…”

“No buts,” she was close to snapping now, shooting warning looks over her shoulder at the dwarves, “I mean it. Leave it all well enough alone.”

She could hear the dwarves grumbling behind her in dwarvish but she paid them no heed as she marched herself to the kitchen to start preparing lunch. Cooking always took her mind off unpleasant memories.

“Are you angry with us?” Bilbo looked up from her cooking to see the dwarves staring at her from the doorway of the kitchen, their faces filled with worry and apprehension. Frodo slide off the bench she had set him off and tottered over to Bofur, his arms raised to be picked up so that he could play with dwarf’s funny hat.

“No. No, of course not.” She replied and watched as the dwarves shoulders slumped forward in relief.

“I’m sorry,” Kili said staring down at his shuffling feet, “I should not have threatened your cousin like that. It just that…” he looked up at her with sad eyes, his hand reaching out and gently touching her still painfully stinging cheek. She ducked her head in shame and embarrassment.

“It won’t happen again.” She assured him, all of them.

“What won’t happen again?” Her father asked as he hobbled slowly into the kitchen, smiling in greeting to the dwarves though his easy smile faulted when he saw how sombre they all looked.

“Lobelia came to visit Papa.” Bilbo said not looking up from her cooking.

“What has the awful woman said now?” Bungo asked looking from his daughter to her sombre dwarves.

“Nothing Papa,” Bilbo tried to assure her father without looking him in the face, hoping to hide her cheek for a long as possible, “everything is fine.”

Her father snorted.

“Hardly anything is fine whenever that woman comes to visit, so please, tell me what was said, what has happened to make you all so sombre.”

“Lobelia,” Bilbo sighed, “was simply being Lobelia, Papa. Do not worry.” She looked up at her papa and tried to smile reassuringly to ease his worries, only to remember her cheek too late as her father’s eyes fell upon it, eyes widening with shock.

“Billanna!” he said hobbling to her side and taking her face gently in his old, wrinkled hands.

“Papa, its fine. It does not even hurt.” She said, trying not to wince as her father gently pressed against it.

“Did she – that woman – did she?” her father stuttered his face growing red with anger. “Blast – that woman, next time I see her I’ll…”

“Papa,” Bilbo said placing her hands upon her father’s frail shoulders, “please calm yourself. All is well. Our good dwarves saw that she will never do this to me again and I very much doubt we’ll be seeing her nearly as frequently now.”

“I should hope so!” Her father cried as he allowed himself to be seated down at the kitchen table, “the nerve of that - that woman! How dare she! How…”

“Papa, please.” Bilbo replied, “It’s alright.” She smiled at him before placing a kiss to his temple.

“Don’t worry Mister Baggins,” Kili said as Bilbo went back to cooking lunch, “she wouldn’t allow us to vent our anger over the unpleasant event either.”

“My daughter has a kind and gentle heart.”

“That she does.” The dwarves agreed as one ignoring the annoyed look said hobbit was giving them.

“Oh hush, all of you.” Bilbo groaned, “You two,” she gestured to Kili and Ori, “set the table please.”

“Of course, madam.” The two youngest dwarves bowed to her, grinning at her with equal cheek but did as she asked, taking out plates and cutlery while she served up their lunch.

Lunch was a quiet affair, far less laughter and jokes were made than usual and Bilbo could not bring herself to make mindless chatter. Despite what she said about everything being fine, that Lobelia’s words had done her no harm and that she was used to the unkind thoughts directed towards her, deep inside of her she ached and just like the night that she had her house once more invaded by dwarves, Bilbo founded herself feeling miserable and sorry for herself.

Her father and the dwarves all kept their distance during that afternoon, allowing her to have the space she desperately craved as she shut herself up into her bedroom.

Her cheek was very red from Lobelia slap and Bilbo predicted that she would have a rather pretty bruise decorating her cheek the next morning.

The bastard child you already have

Bilbo cringed as Lobelia’s hurtful words resounded around her head and felt tears prick in her eyes.

“Honestly girl,” Bilbo whispered harshly to herself as she sat heavily down upon her bed, “she spoke no words that you haven’t heard before, so stop your blubbering this instance! Worse has been spoken to you by far!”

You miserable hobbit.

Words like that…

Tears once more started to flow down her cheeks as she remembered him and his harsh words towards her before he cast her from his side forever.

She remembered how he shook her and yelled at her. So great was he’s fury that Bilbo had truly feared that he would only break from it when he did exactly as he threaten to do and that was throwing her from the battlements of Erebor to the mountain’s rocky roots far below.

Raged sobs broke free of her and she felt as if she was being ripped from the inside out. Why hadn’t he just killed her then and there? Why did he leave her alive to live with this constant pain?

If he had killed you, he would be dead and his child would never have been born into this world. Your child. A voice whispered gently within her head. It sounded very much like Gandalf’s which calmed her greatly.

She nodded and took a few deep breathes to calm herself. She washed away her tears in her bedside wash basin before checking her appearance in her mirror.

Her eyes were red and puffy still but she could easily pass that off as a side effect of her hurt cheek and when she smiled the redness and puffiness was less noticeable.

She done with feeling sorry for herself and with her head held high she strode out into the front room where the dwarves were playing with Frodo, helping him build mountains, castles and forts with the wooden blocks Bilbo had purchased for him for his second birthday.

“Mama.” Frodo cried in delight, running to his mother’s side and hugging himself to her side.

“Hello my sweetheart,” She said smiling at him, “are you being good?”

“Yup!” Frodo beamed before babbling at half a mile a minute about the complicated and involved game he was playing with the dwarves, proudly presenting her with a perfect toy-size replicate of Smaug the Dragon that Bofur had made for him.

“I would paint it, but,” Bofur apologized blushing, “I did not think to bring any paints with me.”

“He’s wonderful,” Bilbo said as she turned the fantastic Dragon toy over in her hands, “looks exactly how he did when I spoke with him.”

“Mama?” Frodo gasped, “uoo ‘oke ith a wagon?”

“Yes, yes I did,” Bilbo said trying not to sound too proud of herself. Not that the pride last long, not when the guilt of what happened after her talk with Smaug played back over in her mind, as fresh as if it had been only yesterday.

If only she had kept her mouth shut about barrel-riding! She could have spared everyone a great deal of pain and suffering.

“Mama?” she was drawn from her dark thoughts – hadn’t she only moments ago stated that she was done with feeling sorry for herself? – and turned her attention back on to her son.

“Hmmm, what is it?”

“ ‘ell me bout the wagon… peese?” her son begged with his big blue eyes.

Bilbo hesitated; she wasn’t really in the mood to talk about Smaug.

“Maybe some other time,” she said watching her son’s face fall, “but how bout instead I tell you the tale of three monstrous trolls? About how they argued amongst themselves until daybreak about how they were going to cook thirteen dwarves and a burrahobbit. Whether it be to turn them on a spit or to sit on them one by one and squash the dwarves into jelly!”

Her son let out his predictable gasp, even though he had heard this particular story many, many times before, he still got excited over hearing it again.

Bilbo curled up into her favourite chair, Frodo cuddled up in her lap, clutching his new toy Smaug close to his chest while the dwarves sat themselves around her as she started to tell her tale.

And even though the dwarves were a part of the story and knew it as well as Bilbo did, it still felt as new to them as any new tale and they were quickly drawn into the tale she wove like a colourful tapestry.

Chapter Text

It was late, very late. A crescent moon cast a soft glow about Bilbo's room, making it appear almost mystical.

She listened carefully for the sounds that may have woken her from a peaceful slumber but, heard no crying from her son nor the sound of her father calling out to her. Now that she was wide awake, Bilbo wondered what had pulled her away from a sound slumber.

There wasn't any danger, she was sure of that, but something out of the normal had most definitely woken her.

Swinging herself out of bed, she pulled on her familiar dressing gown she padded out of her bedroom heading straight down the corridor to check on her child.

He was sleeping soundly in his cot, arms wrapped tightly around his woollen bear toy and new wooden dragon. His mouth was hanging on and he had obviously been tossing and turning his sleep for his bed clothes were a tangled mess around him and his night shirt was pulled down one shoulder.

She smiled affectionately at the sight before moving forward to untangle him from his bedclothes. He let out a small whine of protest but did not wake.

She gently ran her fingers over his smooth soft shoulder, her fingers lightly tracing the birthmark there. It was in the shape of a dwarven rune and whenever Bilbo looked at it she was filled with a sense of pride and apprehension. She was certain that she had seen this particular mark before, and was certain that it was a rune of some kind – which was why she never simply dismissed it as a strangely shaped birthmark – but whenever she asked Gandalf about it, he just gave her one his looks and the subject was quickly changed.

It had been a question that had been resting on the tip of her tongue for days since four of her dwarves had come to stay with her, but she always found some reason or another to stop herself from asking.

She knew how protective dwarves were of their culture, in particular their women and children, so she wasn't sure how to voice her question even to these four who were by far some of the most laid-back and open-minded dwarves in their company. She wasn't sure if it was normal for dwarrow children to be born with dwarven runes on their shoulders. When she had first discovered the mark and spent time thinking it over, she didn't think it sounded so strange a thing, not for dwarves at least.

Thorin she knew from her rather, ah, intimate relationship with him, had many strange marks decorating his body. She had learnt the meanings behind some of them, but there were still many more she did not know the reasons or meanings behind.

She feared the mark's meaning, so she held her tongue despite her sensible side protests.

She gently tugged his night shirt straight before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Sleep well my heart." She whispered before leaving the room, closing the door so that it was now only a fraction open.

She checked on her father next and he, like her son, was fast asleep, though his bed clothes were still straight and not thrown and tangled all over the place.

She hardly felt a need to check on the dwarves, they could take care of themselves. Besides she did not think she would be able to stand their teasing if they caught her checking on them in the middle of the night like some kind of mother hen. There was already one mother hen within the company, and Bilbo felt very little need to take the title away from him.

Instead she did a quick round of her house, not that she feared that an intruder had gotten in, she was simply checking that no window had been left open or something just as trivial.

She found no window open or anything else out of place and was just thinking of heading back to bed when she did notice that her front door had, in fact, been left open ajar.

Her heart did a silly little frightened thump within her chest as she crept towards her front door, her hand closing around the handle of the wicked umbrella that had thumped the dwarves over their heads earlier that week.

Heart in her mouth she opened her front door only to find no one there. After another look outside she saw smoke rings moving lazily about in the clear night air and felt immediately stupid for fearing the worst.

Still feeling quite silly, she set her umbrella once more in its rightful place behind the front door before padding lightly outside to see who the other night owl was.

"Bofur?"

The poor dwarf almost jumped out of his skin from where he sat upon her garden bench, and Bilbo felt terrible for not making her presence better known before she stood right by him and spoke his name.

"Eh, lass," he chuckled weakly, placing a hand over his heart, "thought we told you often enough not sneak up on us like that."

Bilbo blushed deeply.

Yes, they had asked her, many, many times to make her presence known to them for she had spooked more than one dwarf during their journey. It had become something of a game for some of them, to try and catch her before she snuck – they said snuck, she said walking normally – upon them. Others had found it insulting that she was able to catch them unaware. Gloin in particular had taken it as a personal offense and had made it his duty to try and catch her as he was one of the dwarves she particularly spooked whenever she appeared by their side.

By the time they had reached Laketown, they were threatening to buy her a bell to tie around her neck so that they would hear her comings and goings no matter how quiet she was. She had quickly disproven this theory when they actually did purchase a bell for her – and with a self-sacrificing sigh she had tied it on a pretty ribbon around her neck – and spent a day walking around with it on. She scared nine dwarves out of their wits that day. Mind you, she had worked an extra bit harder than usual to do this. And she had failed in her ultimate goal all the same.

Her ultimate goal had been to sneak up on Thorin, to prove once and for all that she was the best burglar he could ever hope for, only… the bell had jingled at just the wrong moment, and she hadn't been able to jump away fast enough before he caught her in his arms and pulled her, screaming and laughing into his lap while he chuckled, whispering "got you" into her ear.

"Sorry." She replied sheepishly forcing herself back into the present and away from the memories of Thorin's warm, safe arms.

"Eh, don't be lass, you can't help what you are any more than we can." He moved over on the bench for her to sit down beside him.

"Still, I should have made some noise or something…" she trailed off lamely causing Bofur to chuckle fondly.

"Heh, I've missed you lass."

Bilbo snorted.

"I can hardly think why, what with how much trouble I caused all of you."

Bofur laughed.

"Ya certainly knew how to keep things interesting." He replied causing Bilbo to thump him on his shoulder.

"Not by choice!" she growled in annoyance.

"Even so," he said smiling at her fondly, "I'm very glad you chose to come along on our mad venture."

"You weren't much help convincing me to join though." Bilbo teased, her eyes twinkling, "'think furnace, with wings'? How did you ever think that would be reassuring? Or might I add," she shot him a cynical look and continued, "'Flash of light, searing pain, then poof, you're nothing more than a pile of ash'." She failed in trying to mimic his voice, which might have been why he was doubled over laughing uncontrollably, his pipe dropping from his fingers and onto the soft grass.

"I was only trying to help." He finally choked out as he tried to regain his breath, picking up his pipe.

"I fainted!"

"Yes, well…" he wiped his eyes and grinned down at her while she rolled her eyes back at him. "You still came along, despite what I said."

"Only because I didn't want to get married," Bilbo huffed, "and going on an adventure was the perfect excuse to get out of it."

The dwarf simply raised his eyebrow down at her but said nothing. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments.

"Do you," Bofur started and Bilbo could hear the hesitation in the dwarf's voice, "do you ever wish you hadn't come along with us? That you hadn't run out your front door after us? I know how homesick you got during our journey, and we weren't – we were not always the most understanding bunch to be around, especially towards you."

Bilbo stared up at him in surprise.

"No. Well… yes." She wrestled with the question, "It had its moments. Not all our venture was bad; there are bits of it I quite enjoyed."

"And bits that still give you nightmares?" Bofur asked softly sounding sad and ashamed.

Bilbo looked at him in horror.

"How did you know…" she had always thought she had been quiet when she was suffering from her nightmares. She had never before woken her father or son with them, so how did Bofur know?

"We hear you crying out in your sleep." Bofur said shamefaced and sad causing Bilbo to splutter more. We? That meant that the others had heard her too! And not all her dreams were about raging wars and pale orcs, huge spiders and thousands of goblins swarming down dark, dank tunnels towards her, separating her from her friends. Nor were they about a creature that had no other name than the sound he made as he muttered away to himself, crying out for his precious as he chased her, chased her and chased her until she could run no more. No, not all her nightmares were about the creatures that were feared to lurk in the darkest of night. No, some of them, a lot of them, more than she dared to count were about him. She would dream about them too. She would dream of seeing them dead all around her in that wretched mountain, amongst all that cold, useless treasure and other times they would be dead on the slopes of the mountain. Wherever they were, it didn't matter where, it was always her fault. Their blood was always on her hands because she stole their blasted stone and consorted with their enemy. They would be dead, and it was all her fault. He was always there to make sure she understood that.

Make sure she understood and that she would never forget as his hands twist cruelling within her dirt locks, forcing her to look and see what she had done, how she had betrayed them all and how she would never ever be forgiven for her crime. And then he too would die before her eyes, struck down by Azog before…

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see what always happened next, fighting back tears as her hands curled into fists as she tried to regain control over herself.

She felt a warm, strong arm wrap around her, and for a heart-beat she thought that it was him. She refused to allow herself to feel any kind of disappointment when she realised it was Bofur.

Oh Bofur. Dear Bofur, how much easier her life would have been if she had only fallen…

She shakes her head, shakes that particular thought well away from her. She couldn't think like that!

"I'm fine, Bofur. I'm sorry for waking you and the others with my silliness." She smiles widely up at him, trying not to think how comfortable she is in his arms even though she is disappointed that he isn't someone else. She really was a terrible person, just like everyone secretly thought she was. She was a completely and utterly awful person.

"Don't be silly, we're just worried about you." Bofur replied, seemingly oblivious to her inner struggles.

"Well, you needn't be, they're only nightmares, they will pass with time, like all things." Bilbo shrugged.

"You truly are too gentle and kind at heart." Bofur muttered more to himself than her.

"No, I'm not." Bilbo all but growled, sick and tired of people always saying that about her, even when they knew the truth! "I'm terrible, horrible person. You of all people should know that." Bofur looked at her blankly which only annoyed her more and she could no longer bear to be near him. She jumped out of his arms and away from him, placing her hands upon her hips as she scowled back at him.

"Lass…" He started, reaching out for her, but she moved out of his reach.

"I am. You know I am, remember what I said to you, all those years ago? In that horrid cave before we were all snatched by the goblins? What kind of gentle and kind-hearted person could say such cruel and insensitive things?!"

"You were homesick." Bofur argued back looking a little annoyed, "you had just been through an awful ordeal and been criticized for something that was no way in the slightest your fault. Thorin was truly awful to ya, lass and you needed someone to vent out. I didn't take the slightest offense that it was me that ya did vent out. In fact, it was probably for the best that it was me."

"Why are you always so nice!" Bilbo cried feeling angry tears pricking in her eyes, "I was horrible to you! I betrayed you all! You should hate me! All of you should hate me!" she would have continued screaming and woken the whole neighbourhood up in the process if weren't for Bofur once more pulling her into his arms.

"Hush now, lass, don't say such things."

"But they're true," she sniffed into his coat. Damn these tears! Why was it that every time she got angry, she started weeping?

"No, they aren't. You know they aren't." Bofur said as he rubbed her back gently, calming her ragged breathing.

"Why, why are you always so nice?" she whispered helplessly.

"I'm not always," he chuckled grimly into her hair.

Bilbo snorted in disbelief.

"Bofur, you are the kindest, gentlest, most forgiving soul I know. I can't imagine you not being nice to anyone."

"Well, I do have my moments of being a very unkind and unforgiving dwarf. Just ask the other's if you don't believe me."

Bilbo hesitated nervously as she looked up at him, her eyes asking the questions that she dared not speak out loud.

"I wasn't very forgiving towards Thorin for quite some time." Bofur said after a moment's silence. "Still not, come to think of it." Bofur added and she felt her stomach twist horribly, and she felt more tears roll down her cheeks.

"Bilbo?"

"That's not what I wanted." She sniffed miserably, "I was hoping you would all forget about me and be happy in Erebor, but now you're telling me – and what I've guessed myself – you're not. And it's all my fault."

"No, it's Thorin's fault." Bofur replied firmly. "And he knows it too." He added under his breath though Bilbo heard it nonetheless and stared at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"He doesn't say as much out loud." Bofur said gently, "but you can see it, in his face, in his eyes. He regrets…"

"Please don't…" Bilbo muttered unsure if her heart could stand to be broken any more than it already was. She gently pulled herself free from Bofur's warm, safe arms and sat miserably upon the bench.

'So much for keeping my promise about not feeling sorry for myself,' she thought dully as she rubbed her raw eyes.

Bofur came to crouch down in front of her, his brown eyes filled with concern and something else that Bilbo was terrified to put a name to, despite how much a part of her shattered heart wished very much to.

"I would have come back with you," he says gently and it breaks her heart a little more. He was not trying to make her feel any worse than she already was or make her feel like some kind of villain; he was simply speaking his heart as he had always done, "if I had known… I would have come back and taken care of you and Frodo. I would have made sure…"

"I know." Her heart ached as she stared back him. "I know Bofur. Thank you." More tears rolled down her cheeks. Curses! Why was she so weak? Why couldn't she be stronger, braver, and something worthy of the respect and love these dwarves showed her every day.

"I wish I could lo…" she whispered, but he placed a finger to her lips, gently silencing her.

"Please don't…" he whispered back, echoing her previous plead before lifting himself gently up and placed a careful kiss to her cheek and then her forehead.

"If I thought I stood a chance, I would have stolen you away from Thorin before he even had a chance to realise he had feelings for you."

"You stood more than a chance, Bofur." Bilbo whispered, and the dwarf smiled at sadly.

"But I missed it." he said softly, nodding his head slowly and sighing.

Bilbo opened her mouth to apologise but was once again stopped from speaking by Bofur's finger against her lips.

"It's fine Bilbo." Bofur said with a smile, "I accepted and respected yours and Thorin's feelings from the moment they started to surface, before even," he started to smirk teasingly at her, "you were both rather dense and stubborn about it all."

Bilbo childishly stuck her tongue out at him before sighing.

"Thank you." She whispered as she wrapped her arms around him, letting herself relax into his comforting embrace.

"I just want you to be happy. If I could, I would give you all the happiness in the world." He said into her hair.

"I know."

They stayed silent, content with their embrace before Bilbo pulled back.

"Bofur may I ask something of you, you're free to say no of course, but it would mean a great deal to me if you said yes." As she spoke, she couldn't help but wring her hands nervously.

Bofur nodded and waited patiently for her to continue, smiling warmly at her.

"I want – I want you to be Frodo's Godfather. I don't know if dwarves have godparents, but we – we hobbits do and it's considered bad luck for a child not to have a godparent of some kind and I have yet to name one for Frodo, officially, because… well, because there was no one in the Shire I wanted to name his Godfather because I wanted his Godfather to be you." She was babbling and starting to panic a little for Bofur was silent and seemed to be in deep thought.

"You don't have to be," she squeaked.

"I'd be honoured lass." He said softly, and Bilbo felt herself relax once more.

"Really?"

"Yes." He smiled his glories smile and she tackled him.

"You truly are the best dwarf I know, Bofur!" She said joyfully as she hugged him as tightly as she could which caused him to laugh.

"I'll remember you said that lass," he teased as she released him from her embrace and they started to head back inside her hobbit-hole.

Bilbo laughed softly as she closed her front door behind them.

"Hmmm, I'm sure you will," she chuckled, though it quickly dissolved into a yawn.

"Come, bed you." Bofur said as he placed his hands upon her shoulders and steered her down the corridor that hosted the bedrooms. They stopped when they came to her bedroom door.

"Thank you Bofur." She says and he bows his smile soft and gentle and makes her heart ache for a love that she could so easily have if she didn't still love one of the stubbornness, arrogant, selfish, prideful, distrustful, brave, loyal, honourable and loving dwarf in all of Middle-Earth.

"Good night Bilbo." He said as he kissed the top her head before starting to head for the room that Bilbo had given him to sleep during his and the others stay.

"Bofur?" She called softly as he reached his bedroom's door. He looked back at her curiously.

"I wish you all the luck and happiness in the world. I really do." He smiled widely at her.

"Same to you lass. Same to you."

Bilbo slipped back into her bedroom, her shoulders lighter while her heart felt heavier than ever.

It would be so easy to fall completely and utterly in love with Bofur. He was such an easy man to love. And yet, stupidly and irreversibly her heart belongs solely to another, another who knew not that she was alive nor felt any inclination to come and check for himself to see if she was indeed dead.

Perhaps she was being harsh, but the insufferable man was still, after four years of exile, keeping her from being truly happy because of his continued and permanent presence within her heart!

She shook her head.

It was probably for the best anyway. Bofur deserved a lass who could love him with all her heart, with her whole being, not some broken, incomplete lass still living with the nightmares of their venture.

He deserved someone far, far better than her. And when he found the lucky lass, Bilbo truly did wish for them to have all the happiness and luck in all of Middle-Earth.

She curled up in her bed, trying not to dream about the very different reality that she would be living if her heart had allowed her to fall in love with a very different dwarf to the one who still held it within the palm of his hand.

Did he really regret what had happened between them, in the moment she lost his love and trust? Did he truly miss her?

She falls into a too deep a slumber to dwell upon these questions and by the time morning came around her she had forgotten them entirely.

Chapter Text

The days that quickly turned into weeks passed lazily by for Bilbo and her guests. They received no more unwanted visits from unpleasant relatives. Of course most of Hobbiton knew that mad Bilbo Baggins had once more opened her hobbit-hole to dwarves but they were wise enough to keep their mouths shut about it.

There were some who were braver than others and they came to visit Bag End, if only to catch a glimpse of the dwarves before running away. Some were even braver and actually met the dwarves personally.

Such braver hobbits were the Baggins’s gardener Hobson ‘Roper’ Gamgee and his son Hamfast, already better known as ‘The Gaffer’ for his ability to get things done quickly and efficiently.

The Baggins were very fond on their gardeners, frequently having them around for a chat and a cup of tea.

It was they who had taken care of Bungo Baggins while Bilbo had been away on her adventure and who had kept the Sackville-Baggins out of Bag End for that period of time. They only failed in the end because the Sackville-Baggins did the underhanded thing of sticking their lawyers upon them.

They had apologized profoundly when Bilbo returned to find her things being auction off and that the Sackville-Baggins had made themselves quite a home in her hobbit-hole. They had helped in reclaiming all the items that had been auctioned off before her unexpected return.

The dwarves quickly discovered that the Gamgee’s were surprisingly protective of their employers, especially The Gaffer who had spent much of their first meeting simply glaring at them before Bilbo very sweetly and gently told him to stop. Which he did promptly, going bright red around his ears as he mumble, ‘yes, Miss Bilbo’, before ducking his head in embarrassment. That however did not stop him from shotting the dwarves dirty looks whenever he was sure his mistress wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t until the Gamgee’s were leaving did the dwarves discover the reason behind the hobbit’s animosity towards them.

Bilbo and her father were still chatting away with Roper Gamgee when The Gaffer cornered them with a determined look in his brown eyes. He gave them a rather impressive speech, threatening them all with bodily harm from his rake and pruners if they did anything that might harm Miss Bilbo in any way, emotionally or physically and to think twice about dragging her off anywhere for he would have a word or two to say about it and would stop them from taking her away in any way he could.

He would have probably gone on, but was stopped by Bilbo walking over to them with little Frodo sitting on her hip fast asleep, her soft earthy eyes curious as she cocked her head to one side, looking from each other their faces.

“Everything alright?”

“Of course Miss Bilbo.” The Gaffer replied with a cheerful smile which Bilbo returned just as warmly. “Everything is fine.” The hobbit man glanced back at their chatting fathers with grin, “best get my Da home or they’ll be talking all night. Good night Miss Bilbo,” he nodded his head respectfully to Bilbo, “Good Night Master Dwarves,” he nodded his head respectively to them too, much to their surprise after his rather long and threatening rant just moments before.

He walked over to his father and Bungo and after a few moments the two Gamgees were saying their final good night’s before heading down Bag Shot lane towards their own small hobbit-hole.

“You’ve got yourself a fine bodyguard, Bilbo.” Kili teased as they made their way back inside Bag End.

“Kili, what on earth are you talking about?” Bilbo asked with a snort as she gently set her little son down onto one of the armchairs by the fire where he immediately curled up into a ball, taking on the appearances of an odd looking cat.

“The Gaffer gave us quite an earful of interesting threats.” Kili continued with a grin and Bilbo rolled her eyes.

“The Gamgees have been working for us for years and Hamfast has been a dear friend since we were youngsters,” Bilbo replied with a shrug as she made her way into the kitchen.

“He was quite worried about you while you were away.” Bungo offered as he sat slowly down at the kitchen table. “When he heard that you were gone, he wanted to go after you and…”

“Act like her bodyguard?” Kili and Ori asked grinning.

“Well now,” Bungo said slowly, “I don’t know about being a bodyguard, but he did wish to go after her, make sure she was alright. He was quite put out about you not saying goodbye to him.” He added to his daughter who sighed a heavy, long suffering sigh.

“I didn’t have time to say goodbye, I was already late! I had barely enough time to make all the proper arrangements with his Da to take care of Bag End and you Papa that I was unable to wait for him to return from the markets to say goodbye.”

The dwarves fought hard to hide their amused grins at their hobbit’s disgruntled complaints as she went about making their dinner.

This of course woke Frodo up and he came tottering into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily and his arm raised for Bofur to pick him up. The lad quickly stole the dwarf’s fur hat and set it upon his head. Or over his head rather as the hat fell down to the boy’s chin. But he loved it all the same even though he could not see whenever he put it on.

The little boy did not mind not being able to see. He was safe and comfortable in the arms that held him. They were so different to his mother’s embrace, dwarf hugs, but they were familiar all the same.

Whenever one of his mama’s dwarves lifted him up and he closed his eyes he saw huge, grey hills, glittering stones and frozen rivers that shown like sunlight as they threaded their way through heavy rock. Whenever he was in the arms of one of the dwarves he felt that he was far, far away from the rolling green hills of the Shire and to places that he knew even though he had never been to them before.

It was queer feeling and little Frodo didn’t quite understand it himself but he was a very accepting child and every new mystery in his life was a new adventure.

He snuggled close to Bofur’s chest, his head resting against the dwarf’s shoulder, finding comfort in the familiar noise around him as he slowly fell back into the land of dreams. Most of his dreams were much like the visions he saw when he was being held by one of the dwarves, filled with large, grey hills made of rock, shiny stones and strange silver clothes that clanged as they moved.

He dreamed of many strange people and places, of dwarves and elves and great men. He dreamed of seven rings created for seven Dwarf Lords in great stone halls and of one ring, a master ring that scared him while at the same time felt familiar to him like the other seven did not.

He did not dream of rings very often, not unless he saw his mother sneak on her own magic ring, but otherwise dreams about magical rings did not bother him.

Tonight in Bofur’s arms, Frodo dreamed of a single great rock hill in the middle of a great plain, a huge lake glimmering in the distance.

As he dreamed of this far off place, words from his mother’s lullaby softly sang in his ear.

What was before, we see once more
Our kingdom a distant light

Fiery mountain beneath the moon
The words unspoken, we’ll be there soon
For home a song that echoes on
And all who find us will know the tune

* * *

The days were growing longer and warmer and the dwarves regretfully starting to think about the journey back to the mountain.

Kili of course had no wish to return to his uncle’s kingdom preferring to remain and help take care of his cousin and he was most disgruntled when Bilbo, Bofur and Ori all spoke of how this would be a bad idea.

“How so?” He snapped angrily; hurt reflecting in his dark eyes. He held Frodo close to him on his lap while the little lad played with his braids.

“Think how Thorin will react if you don’t return with us to Erebor.” Bofur said patiently.

“He won’t care; it’ll be a weight off his mind!” Kili snapped back and Bilbo sighed heavily, hating the rift that had been driven so deeply between nephew and uncle.

“He will.” Ori spoke softly, “You know he will.”

Kili shot him a dirty look and the young dwarf fell silent.

“Forget about Thorin for a moment, please,” Bilbo said, her heart aching as it whispers if only I could, “and think of your brother and mother? How would Fili feel if you did not return? Or your mother. Kili as much as I appreciate why you want to stay here, with Frodo and I, it would be best, overall, for you to return home because whether you like it or not, you are a prince and people will come looking for you.”

“Can’t you three,” Kili said looking at his fellow dwarves desperately, “just pretend I’ve run off somewhere? To Gondor maybe?”

“Gondor?” Ori and Bofur yelped while Bilbo simply looked at him in confusion. Gondor? Gondor? Now where had she heard that name before? In Rivendell, maybe?

She thought for a moment longer before spluttering out

“Gondor? The greatest realm of men in the west?”

Her dwarves looked at her curiously, clearly wondering how and why their hobbit knew about the great realm of men.

She blushed and muttered, “Rivendell.”

Kili rolled his eyes while Ori looked impressed and Bofur and Bifur grinned at her in amused affection for her curious mind.

“Anyway, Uncle would be less likely to try and come after me if you lot said I was in Gondor.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Bilbo said sceptically, “I think you would have a better chance of your uncle not coming after you if these three said you had run off to the Golden Wooden of Lothlorien. But,” She added as an afterthought, “I suppose he could always swallow his pride and ask Thranduil to send someone to check and then that’s that cover story blown. He would eventually get the truth out of someone as to where to you really are.” Bringing all his wrath with him, I imagine, Bilbo thought staring down at her fingers and swallowing the painful lump in her throat.

“Uncle would never do that.” Kili said defiantly, his eyes filled with stubborn certainty.

“I’m fairly certain he would.”Bofur said with a smirk, obviously picturing the moment of Thorin asking the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm for help finding his nephew with great relish and amusement.

“He would.” Ori seconded Bofur ignoring Kili furious gaze by as he looked intently around Bilbo’s front room, taking a particular interest in the portrait of her parents that hung over the fireplace.

“Kili,” Bilbo said gently, “you have to go back. You belong in Erebor, it is your home, where your family is.”

“You and Frodo are my family too.” The boy growled out in obvious pain, pain that Bilbo had so wanted to spare him from feeling. He shouldn’t have to feel torn between two families and she refused to allow him to feel that he had to take responsibility of Frodo because his uncle wasn’t around to do so. She refused to tie him to the Shire when she knew his young and adventurous spirit was still burning brightly and passionately within his soul.

“I know and as much as I would love for you to stay here with us, I cannot allow you to. Things in the Shire are very slow and little ever changes and you would find very little to do to occupy your time. You would become bored if you stayed here with nothing to do. Bored and lonely, and I have no wish for that to happen. You’re too young and still too eager to see the world to settle down here in the Shire.”

“S’not fair.” Kili muttered miserably as he looked down at his cousin in his lap.

“Life generally isn’t. But Kili, while I’m telling you to return with the others to Erebor, I’m not telling you to never come back. I want you to come back, as often as you possibly can and visit Frodo and I.”

“We’ll try lass,” Bofur answered with nod, “as often as we can without it looking suspicious.”

Bilbo smiled and stood up to hug him, Bifur and Ori and finally Kili who was still looking upset but he allowed himself to relax in Bilbo’s embrace and when she drew away and resumed sitting in her favourite armchair he seemed to be a little happier.

“You’ll be alright, though? Being by yourself, without us?” Kili asked softly as he ran a hand through Frodo’s curls.

Bilbo smiled.

“Of course Kili. We’ll be fine and we are hardly alone.” Bilbo chuckled.

“Of course, your bodyguard gardener.” Kili snickered causing Bilbo to throw a small cushion at him which he aggravatingly caught with one hand. The other dwarves laughed while Frodo stared up a Kili with newfound awe.

“Your mama just threw a cushion at me Frodo.” Kili said to his cousin with mock horror. “That wasn’t very nice, was it?”

“No.” Frodo shook his head.

“And what do we do when something not nice happens to someone we care about?” Bilbo was starting to get a bad ‘oh no, what have you taught my son now’ feeling in her gut.

She sighed when she saw that her bad feeling had indeed been correct as her little son tried his best to scowl disapprovingly at her.

He wasn’t very good at scowling yet and he had a long way to go before he had his father’s infamous scowl down pat – thank goodness – but with time and practise Bilbo was sure he would have his own infamous scowl all of his own. But until then, she was fighting her hardest not to laugh at the cute little scowl on her son’s face.

“Alright, alright,” Bilbo sighed as she moved to Kili’s side and plucked her son from his lap, “I’m sorry Kili for throwing a cushion at you.” her son’s scowl immediately lifted and his bright, sunlight filled smile was back. Well for a moment at least as it quickly dissolved into a yawn.

“Alright,” Bilbo said as Frodo rubbed his eyes, “someone’s ready for his afternoon nap.” She adjusted her lad on her hip before carrying him to his bedroom.

Her lad was asleep almost the moment she finished tucking him into his cot. She leant against the railing of the cot, gently running her fingers through his dark locks.

“Bilbo?”

“Come in Kili.” Kili walked carefully into the nursery, taking care not to make a sound with his heavy boots as he came to stand by her by the cot.

“He’s a good sleeper.” Kili commented softly.

“Yes, he’s always been a good sleeper, ever since he was a babe.” She smiled cheekily up at him, “he doesn’t snore either.” Kili gave her an affectionate nudge with his arm.

“He could with time. You might find yourself with a loud and spectacular snore in your hands in a couple of decades.”

“No, I don’t think anyone could be louder and more spectacular snorer than Gloin.” Bilbo snorted softly causing Kili to snigger.

“Oh, yes, the moths. That was rather impressive.”

“You and Fili were terrible that night.”

“Were we? What did we do or say on that particular night?”

“The pair of you were winding me up about orc night raids.”

“Oh yes,” the dwarf prince had the decency to looked ashamed, “did we ever apologize for that?”

“No, but then you never apologized for almost getting me eaten by trolls, but as you did try to save me, I guess that calls us even.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing them again.”

“Hmmm?”

“The trolls. I wouldn’t mind seeing their statues again.”

“Funnily enough, I wouldn’t mind seeing them again either. Maybe when Frodo’s a bit bigger, we could take him and show them to him. Heavens knows he loves the story about them well enough.” Bilbo chuckled as Kili’s eyes burned with excitement and delight.

“You really mean it about wanting us to return?” Kili asked causing Bilbo to shot him a look as if questioning his sanity.

“Kili of course I do. Do you have any possible idea just how much I’ve missed all over you? I want you to visit as often as you can. I want you in Frodo’s life so that when it comes time for him to find out who and what he truly is, it won’t…” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “I’m hoping that you’ll be able to help him threw it. I know I won’t be able to,” she sighed as she ran a finger through her son’s soft curls, “knowing my luck he’ll hate me and I’ll have lost him forever.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

“No, Bilbo, no. Frodo could never hate you. No one could ever hate you.” threw her tears, Bilbo shot him a look and the dwarf prince corrected himself, “no one can ever hate you for long.”

“They hate me for long enough.” Bilbo said softly, her eyes becoming glazed as her mind drifted back over her darkest of days.

Kili gathered her up into his arms and hugged her close.

“I’m so silly.” She sniffled into his chest, “you know, I promised myself that I was done with feeling sorry for myself and yet here I am, yet again, feeling sorry for myself.”

“You’re allowed to feel sorry for yourself, Bilbo.” Kili reassured her gently.

“Yes, but not all the damn time.” Bilbo muttered angrily. “I’m so tired of just feeling sad all the time.” She rubbed her hands against her face, letting out a weak little laugh, “I am so weak.”

“Hardly Bilbo.” Kili said giving her shoulders the tiniest of shakes, “you’re one of the strongest people I know. The strongest even! Don’t ever think of yourself as being weak and you shouldn’t have to feel that you have to be happy all the time; you’re allowed to feel sad and sorry for yourself. You have a reason to be sad. Me? At home, I’m angry towards everyone, even my brother,” he winced as he thought back on how distant he and his brother now were from each other and it was all his fault, “ who has always stood by me no matter what mess I’ve managed to land us head first into. I’m angry all the time, lashing out at everyone. I go off on long trips by myself, just walking or sitting around in some deserted place feeling angry and sorry for myself. You don’t do that, you carry on, for your son and father and for all your friends and family. You don’t close in within yourself and shut out the rest of the world. You are strong Bilbo; it is us who are weak.”

“Kili…”

“I mean it.” Kili said softly, staring down at his little cousin, “those of the line of Durin are weak. Yes, we are great warriors and good rulers… for a time. But we’re weak. Weak when it comes to the things that truly matter. We’re weak when it comes to things about where our hearts truly lie. We’re weak because we allow ourselves to be so easily corrupted by greed and hatred. I’m glad actually,” his lips twitched into a small smile, “I’m glad that he’ll grow up away from all of us. That he’ll grow up with his strong, brave, smart hobbit mother who will teach him all that is right and make him become a great man. And you will. I can think of no better person to raise this little wonder than you.” He smiled softly at Bilbo.

“Oh Kili.” Tearing up once more she flung her arms around the young dwarf and hugged him tightly. “Thank you.”

The dwarf lad - who was almost as precious to her as one of her many cousins, if not more so - smiled down at her as he returned her hug before they both returned to watching the tiny dwobbit sleep.

Chapter Text

The day the dwarves chose to leave Bag End came all too quickly for them all.

The Gaffer and his Da helped the dwarves with getting all their bags and weapons tied to their ponies, while Bilbo fussed over things such as whether or not they had enough food and other necessary comforts.

“Like a handkerchief. Can’t have us forgetting our handkerchiefs.” Bofur teased causing the hobbit to stick her tongue out at him in response.

“I think that’s about it.” Ori said sounding quite sad as he looked over the well-packed ponies.

“You’ll keep safe now, won’t you? You won’t go off looking for trouble?” Bilbo shot a particularly worried look towards Kili who was having one last game with Frodo.

“Oi!” Kili complained when he realised Bilbo was directing her comment at him as he held a squealing and laughing Frodo above his head.

“Well, it was you and Fili who lost the ponies to the Trolls.” Bilbo retorted pressing her hands to her hips, her brown eyes filled with annoyance and worry for them.

“That wasn’t us looking for trouble!” Kili complained as he continued to bounce Frodo up and down in his arms.

“No, you just sent the burglar head first into trouble, saying that you would be right behind me.” Bilbo snorted.

“And we were… kind of. We brought the rest of the company to save you, did we not?” Kili grumbled, pouting at her. His pouting face caused his little cousin to laugh and clap his hands together.

Kili stuck his tongue at his little cousin who was now struggling to get down from his arms so as to go and investigate something or other that had caught the attention of his young and inquisitive mind.

“And that was such a brilliant and well thought out plan once you got yourselves all captured.” Bilbo continued on as if she had not heard him, running her fingers lightly threw her son’s curls as he tottered by her, his eyes focused solely on a butterfly with sapphire blue wings “Though I suppose that could have been said to my fault, but in the end…”

“It was you who saved us, lass.” Bofur said pressing a reassuring hand upon her shoulder, “Do not worry yourself lass, we’ll keep ourselves safe. We won’t take any detours or any unnecessary risk, I promise ya.”

“You had better keep your promise, Master Dwarf,” Bilbo said, punching Bofur’s arm affectionately, “for I expect to see you all next year and I will not excuse your absence just because you all happen to be altogether too dead to visit.”

Kili and Ori sniggered at her words while Bofur shook his head, silently laughing.

Bifur moved forward and Bilbo spoke a few words of ancient Khuzdul which soon had the dwarf embracing her and spinning her around her garden as she squealed and laughed, crying through her laughter for him to put her down.

“Are you all ready to go then?” Bungo asked as he walked slowly out of the hobbit-hole, leaning heavily upon his cane as he did so, looking more than a little bemused by seeing his daughter being spun around by the dwarf who spoke no common tongue and had a piece of metal sticking out of his head, but Bungo made no comment and instead moved slowly to stand with the others and their ponies.

“Aye, it would seem we are.” Bofur said, fighting back several emotions that were causing his heart to constrict tightly within his chest. He forced himself to ignore these emotions for the moment, though.

“Thanking you kindly Master Baggins for all your hospitality.” He added with a bow that was quickly followed by Ori and Kili.

“Well,” the old hobbit looked quite embarrassed as well as pleased, “well now, you are very welcome. I should - I should actually be thanking you as well, Master Dwarves.” Bungo said seriously while the dwarves looked back at him in confusion and curiosity.

“Thank you,” Bungo took a deep breath, determined to finish his sentence, “thank you for – for making my – my daughter smile again. It’s been too – too long since I’ve – seen her smile.”

The dwarves felt their faces turn red and shuffled their feet.

“Papa,” Bilbo said laughing, her eyes wide and sparkling, “what in all of Middle-Earth did you say to put them into this state?” she teased as she looped arms with her father, a loving gesture that also gave her father an extra bit of support to keep him up right.

“Ah, dear one, that – that is for me to know…”

“And for me to always wonder?”

“Yes,” Bungo said with a smile, “something like that.”

Bilbo fought to keep her smile wide and happy as she watched the dwarves strap on the final pieces of their belongings on to their ponies.

She wouldn’t cry! She refused to cry!

“Kee?” Frodo was once more following the dwarves around with a confused and worried expression on his young face.

“Kee going?” the boy’s bottom lip trembled.

“Only for a little while?” KIli assured his cousin as he lifted him up into his arms, “I’ll be back before you know it, I promise.”

“romise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“I hope not.” Bilbo replied softly reaching out to take her son from Kili, her little boy looking close to tears.

“Safe journey.” Gaffer Gamgee said as he held a particularly frisky pony still so that Ori could mount it.

“Easy Petal.” Ori said before giving a Gaffer Gamgee an appreciative grin. “Thank you.”

Bilbo fought back tears as she watched the rest of the dwarves mount their ponies.

“See you soon.” Bofur promised from atop of his pony.

“You had better,” Bilbo said as she gently pressed hand to her nose in a vain attempt to keep herself from crying. Frodo was already sniffling against her shoulder, his little arms tightening around her neck.

“Goodbye.”

“Farewell.”

“Safe Journey.

“Be safe. Please Mahal keep them safe.” Bilbo whispered as she lifted her arm in farewell as she watched the four ponies break into a trot down Bagshot Row, their riders twisting in their saddles to wave back in return.

“Keep them safe so they can one day return to me.”

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began

Now far ahead the road has gone

And I must follow, if I can

Chapter Text

The return trip to Erebor was, to say the very least about it, boring and uneventful. That is, that was how it appeared to be from Kili’s point of view. Especially once the four dwarves had once more joined up with their travelling party in Ered Luin. Once they might have enjoyed returning to their home away from home or in Kili’s and Ori’s cases the only home they had known before the reclaiming of Erebor. But now it meant very little to them and they spent a total of two weeks there before the leader of their company said that it was high time for them to return home.

Their companions all sent them strange and questioning looks but wisely kept their mouths shut, knowing full well that the four dwarves would never reveal what they had been doing for the past month and a half, no matter how much they might pester them. There were some, however, who believed it would be wise to inform their king once they had returned to Erebor of his youngest nephew sudden and unexplained disappearance along with three other members of his old company.

Their king would get the truth out of the young prince or from the other three that was for sure. Until then they would keep their mouths shut and returned to the Lonely Mountain by the shortest, safest route they could take through the Misty Mountains with their many carts and wagons.

It was safe and in Kili’s mind, quite a boring return trip and they troupe returned to Erebor in record time.

Kili, predictably, disappeared the moment the party was inside Erebor’s great doors, leaving his three companions to face his uncle, brother and the rest of their company without him.

“Donna runner, has he?” Dwalin snorted once he had located the three dwarves and was leading them and few other higher members of the party towards the throne room while the rest of the party went about unloading the carts and wagons.

“Aye, something like that.” Bofur replied with a wide and cheerful grin. This seemed to catch Dwalin off-guard, for Thorin’s Right-Hand man and Head of his Guard blinked at the miner slash toymaker in surprised confusion before shrugging his massive shoulders and continued to lead the way to the throne room.

Erebor’s throne room was a huge and magnificent cavern, with the ancient dwarven kings of old carved into the rich emerald green rock, streams gold of thread through their great beards and armour. The great throne stood beneath a huge pinnacle of emerald rock with rivers of gold cascading down and around it.

Above the head of the throne was the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain, set in a setting of gold than did nothing to diminish the stone great beauty.

Pacing in front of the throne was Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain. In all the years that Thorin had been King, Bofur could count on maybe two hands the times he had actually seen his king sit in the grand throne.

Granted, Bofur wasn’t often invited into the throne room all that often but he suspected that his King didn’t spend a great deal of time sitting in his throne. He was too used to being on the move to sit ideally by in a throne for hours on end.

The only times Bofur readily knew his King would sit in his throne for hours on end were the times the pointy-eared stick-in-the-muds came to visit. The rest of the time he was either pacing in front of it or took his audience to his private study or to the War room.

“Successful trip?” Thorin asked the leader of their party an old and well-respected dwarf with a dark grey beard known as Frar, as he stopped mid-pace in front of the small party.

“Very well. Very well indeed.” Frar replied with a wide grin, showing off his multiple gold teeth.

Thorin nodded his head sharply, his dark blues eyes searching over the party, taking in all the faces whom were present.

“My nephew?” he asked with a long suffering sigh.

“Donna a runner.” Dwalin answered with a chuckle for Frar had turned speechless at the question. As good and talented a trader Frar was, he was not at all suited for keeping his King’s youngest nephew insight and in check.

“No, he hasn’t!” A younger voice rang out around the great cavern and all who stood in front of the grand throne now heard the squabbling of two youngsters.

A very satisfied looking Prince Fili walked into the royal cavern from one of its multiple entrances dragging along with him his rather disgruntled looking younger brother, still dressed in his travelling clothes.

“Getting slack Kee.” Fili was saying as he pulled his brother towards the group by the great throne.

“Am not!” Kili replied childishly back, “I just wasn’t trying is all! Hello Uncle”

Bofur watched as Thorin blinked repeatedly at his youngest nephew before his face took on a suspicious nature.

Of course this sort of reaction from Thorin was to be expected. Kili had not said so much as a pleasant word to his uncle in years, so for the boy to suddenly greet him with a wide and friendly grin was sure to get Thorin suspicious nature raising its head. But still, he didn’t let it stop him from replying to his nephew’s surprising greeting.

“Hello Nephew… where have you been?”

“Thought you would know, Uncle?” the boy replied innocently, his brown eyes wide, “with the trading party, of course? Or do you mean right now? Off to see Mother, of course. Would have gotten there if this big lug hadn’t jumped me!” He gave his elder brother a playful shove which caused his brother to also look at him in surprise before he shoved him, almost instinctually, back.

There would have probably been a full-out shoving war between the two brothers if Thorin hadn’t called them in to order.

“Alright, alright, knock it off the pair of you before you send yourselves off the side of this bridge.”

The boys immediately calmed their game but Bofur still noted that elbows were still moving between the boys, seeking out ribs.

The rest of the trading report was quite boring and Bofur honestly wished that Thorin had order the meeting to be held in his study where they could have all sat down instead of being forced to stand for hours on end after a long trip.

He was almost dropping off to sleep before Thorin called the meeting over and for them to go and get some rest.

Bofur dragged his weary cousin and the young scribe – who was all but asleep on his feet – out of the throne room.

He returned Ori to his elder brothers who made a great fuss over him before continuing on his way down to his own chambers that he shared with his cousin, his brother and his brother’s steadily growing family – by dwarf standards, it was considered to be quite large but compared to just how large he seen and heard a hobbit family could grown, it was really small in comparison.

“Unka Bofur!” He was tackled the moment he walked in the front door by his two eldest nephews. The youngest of the two, Bofur realised a little sadly was only a few months younger than Frodo.

“Hello you two?” he said as he lifted his the two boys up into his arms, amazed by how much they had both grown in the months that he and Bifur had been away. “Been good?”

“Ye-ah! Presents?”

“Oh no, neither of you deserve any present from yah Uncle Bofur.”

“Hello Eir.” Bofur greeted his pregnant sister-in-law with a smile as he set his nephews over his shoulder, threatening to toss the eldest completely over it and into Bifur’s outstretched and waiting arms.

His sister-in-law gave him an exasperated look before pressing a quick kiss to his and Bifur’s cheeks, before clucking her tongue at her sons as they squirmed and giggled on their uncle’s shoulders.

“Good trip?” Eir asked as she unloaded her sons from Bofur’s shoulders and sent them off to wash their grubby paws.

“Rather. Bombur still in the kitchens?”

“Oh, he’s in the kitchen alright but ours rather than the royal un. The King was kind enough to give him the night off when we heard ya would be arriving shortly.” Eir replied as she bustled in the direction of the kitchen, motioning for the two travel-weary dwarves to hurry it along.

“Brother! Cousin!” The two dwarves braced themselves as the large red-headed dwarf barrelled out of the kitchen and into them.

“Are you both well? You look well. What was the weather like? Was it good?”

“Bombur!” Eir cried, “Let ’em breath for Mahal’s sake!”

“Oh… yes.” Bombur said and let go of his older brother and cousin.

“Hello Bombur.” Bofur said as he punched his younger brother affectingly in his beefy arms. “What’s for dinner?”

“Well…” and the large dwarf was off describing the many meals he had cooked in celebration of their return. The two dwarflings lads were back by the time their father had started describing the second course.

“Dammit Bombur!” Bofur groaned as his stomach rumbled loudly. His brother laughed and slapped on the back before ushering his family into the dining room.

Bofur smiled. It was good to be home.

His mind flickered briefly to Bilbo and Frodo and wished that they too could be here but with a sad little sigh he pushed them from his thoughts. Because when he thought of them, thought of why they weren’t here, his rediscovered happiness started to slip away again and the darkness threaten to invade his mind once more.

Soon, he promises himself, soon we will all be together again and this will truly be home.

Chapter Text

"Alright you might as well tell me know where you lot snuck off to." Kili looked up from the book that Ori was showing him to stare at his older brother who was leaning against the doorway of Ori's private office at the back of the huge national library of Erebor.

"Pardon, brother?" Kili asked innocently, kicking Ori under the table to try and stop his friend from looking so guilty.

Ori winced before quickly slamming the book the two lads have been so completely absorbed in that they had failed to hear Fili entering room shut.

Fili rolled his eyes and strode into the room, noting as he did so the swiftness of Ori's movements to place the large and rather ancient looking book underneath his desk, the lad's face still holding a hint of guilt to it. But for the moment Fili chose to ignore it, he had more important issues to deal with, issues that had his brother's name written all over it.

"One of the members of your company has just informed Uncle that you two, along with Bofur and Bifur, disappeared for almost two months on the way to Ered Luin."

"And I suppose Uncle isn't very happy about this, correct?" Kili asked still trying to look innocent while Ori had all but given up looking at Fili and was now staring intently down at his desk, tracing the lines and patterns in the timber's surface.

"Not particularly. Not when the main reason he let you go with the trading party was for you to have better understanding…"

"Of how trading works between two kingdoms." Kili interrupted him with exasperated hand motions. "I know how it works, Fili! I've known how it's worked since I was in my sixties. I buy something off Ori, Ori buys something of equal value off me. I give you… the meaning of trade!"

Ori and Fili glanced at each other before both took deep breaths in. Sometimes there was simply no point trying to correct Kili. And he had been… mostly right.

"Alright, even with that said, Uncle is still annoyed…"

"When isn't he annoyed at me… ouch." Kili glared at his friend before glancing back to his brother, "just how annoyed is he at me, this time?"

"Depends on what excuse you come up with this time. But it's not just you he's annoyed with." Fili said glancing over at Ori who let out a nervous little squeak.

"It's my fault!" Kili said automatically, mischievous grin now gone and his dark brown eyes sombre. "He can't get mad at them, not when it's my fault."

"Look," Fili said slowly pressing a hand to his brow, "just come with me now to see him and we'll sort this out. Honestly what is the worse he can seriously do to you?"

"Oh, I don't know," Kili said with dark air about him and Fili saw his angry little brother of the past few years start to return, "I can think of something…" he grunted as Ori elbowed him, hard, in the ribs.

"Fine!" Kili said throwing up his arms and just like that, he was once more looking like the little brother whom Fili used to carry about on his shoulders. There was still a darkness to his eyes that Fili was sure would never truly leave them but since he and the others had returned from their trip just a few days prior almost everyone had noticed a change in them.

Bofur was smiling and whistling again, Bifur was far more coherent, Ori was once more the chatty lad he had been before their adventure and Kili. Well, Kili was once more acting like his old self again.

He walked about Erebor with less anger about him than he had since the early days of reclaiming their old kingdom. The fact that he hadn't disappeared the moment of his return was hope enough for Fili that his brother was finally, finally overcoming his grief and anger towards what had happen between their Uncle and… and their burglar.

Fili still couldn't think of her without feeling some kind of mixed feelings. But all those feelings aside, he missed her too, just as much as his little brother even if he showed it less.

"Come let's go see Uncle." Kili said swinging his arms and grinning mischievously at his brother while poor Ori dragged himself after the younger prince.

Fili watched the two for a moment before following them. He was just as mystified as everyone else by the sudden change in the four dwarves. Which was why, Fili was sure; Thorin would go lightly on them about their unexplained disappearance from the trading party.

That is, just as long as Kili didn't make up some long-winded and highly improbable story, the four of them should get off with nothing more than a few sharp words of warning about never doing something like this again, they would be fine. If Kili could just keep his mouth shut… Fili didn't hold out all that much hope.

Thorin was waiting for them in his private study, peering over some old maps with Balin and Dwalin.

"You found them quickly." His uncle said as the three young dwarves entered the room.

"Library." Fili replied simply.

Thorin gave him a funny look before turning his gaze upon Kili who was looking around the study with an almost bored expression on his face. Ori was once again inspecting his feet.

A few moments passed in an awkward silence before the rest of their old company joined them in the study.

"What's all this than?" Gloin asked flopping into one of the chairs around the room.

"Nothing more than an explanation as to where these four disappeared off to for a month and half." Thorin replied calmly though his gaze on the four dwarves had a hint of steel to it. Bifur grunted something to Bofur who murmur something back to him. The older dwarf twitched uncomfortably and looked terribly bothered about something Fili noticed and wonder to himself what could have possibly have upset the mentally damaged dwarf enough to make his cousin fuss over him in an attempt to keep him from going berserk on them all.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fili saw that his uncle had too noticed the change in Bifur and was frowning slightly at him.

"ORI!"Fili was distracted from the Bifur and Bofur due to the exasperated cries of Dori. Ori mumbled something that sounded like sorry but it was hard to tell for the lad was still staring intently down at his boots. This did nothing to deter his eldest brother who had started to fret and fuss over the matter, wring his hands nervously before muttering something that sounded very much like "this is all Nori's fault!" which of course caused the middle Ri brother to give a cry of "OI!" and suddenly though probably not unexpectedly the room was filled with shouting dwarves.

Fili glanced over at his uncle who was standing by his desk and looking around at their companions with a mixed expression of amusement and complete exasperation.

"Shazara!" Thorin finally belted out after several minutes of incoherent yelling.

"Right, sorry." Several shamed-faced dwarves muttered as they fell respectively silent for their King.

"Right now that we've gotten that out of our systems, may we please return to the matter at hand?" Thorin gave everyone in the room a hard look before turning his full attention on the four directly in front of him.

"So which one of you is going to be giving the reasons – or excuses – behind your sudden disappearing act when you were all meant to go Ered Luin to help with the trade agreements."

"Well…" Bofur started slowly before Kili, predictably, interrupted him

"It's my fault."

"Aye, figured that much out ourselves lad." Dwalin snorted out with amusement. Kili grinned back at the head of his uncle's guard before turning his full attention back onto his uncle who despite thinking the very same thing only moments before was giving him a sceptical look, if only because at the moment his nephew openly admitted his guilt over the groups disappearing act he had seen a strange look pass across Bofur's face which had made him start to think otherwise. But for the moment, he would let it slide until he had a moment of peace and quiet to slowly and carefully dissect everything that occurred in this meeting.

"Nephew." He said and waved a hand for his nephew to proceed.

"I just wanted to see the trolls…"

That short explanation caused a very long pause.

"You-you what?"

"The trolls," Kili said speaking very, very slowly and carefully as if he was speaking to very young dwarflings, "as in our trolls. The three monstrous trolls that tried to eat us."

"And argued until day break about whether to cook us by turning us on a spit or to sit on us one by one and squash us into jelly!" Ori added and for some bizarre reason that Thorin (nor anyone else in his company – san maybe the two standing by the lads) for the life of him could not fathom, the lads seemed to find this to be incredibly amusing.

"I think the pair of ya's have finally lost it." Gloin rumpled looking at the two giggling lads, clearly questioning their sanity.

"Did you find them?" Balin asked once the two lads had calmed down enough to talk coherently once more.

"Ah… eventually." Kili said with a careless shrug of his shoulders.

"Let me see if I got this straight." Thorin started closing his eyes to his grinning nephew's face, "You left your set task of being present during an important trade proceedings between Erebor and Ered Luin to go hunting for trolls? Stone trolls at that." He finished, pinching his nose.

"Had to check that they hadn't turned back." Kili replied innocently.

"Of course ya did." Several dwarves snorted while Thorin simply shook his head and Fili fought to keep himself from grinning to widely.

"And you three?" Thorin questioned the dwarves.

"They came to…"

"Make sure the laddie didn't get himself kill." Bofur finished causing a number of dwarves to chuckle under their breaths while Kili shot a mock hurt look at Bofur.

"And thought nothing of letting others know what was happening?" Thorin continued but honestly, he didn't know why he was even bothering. He knew now that they had been doing more than searching for those damn stone trolls. They knew or at least Bofur, Bifur and Ori knew that he knew that they had been up to more than searching for those damn stone trolls, so why he was even continuing to bother with this questioning session – beyond the sheer amusement value of it – was quite beyond him.

He leant back against his desk listening to his youngest nephew ramble on and on about an adventure that the four quite obviously did not experience but allowed him to do so, as it was rather amusing and it had been a long, long - far too long indeed - time since any of them had seen him so animated about… well, anything.

So they simply allowed him to tell his epic adventure with amused grins and knowing looks. The truth of where the four had really been would come out eventually but for now Thorin and his company were simply content to have the four acting much like their old selves again.

"Where do you believe they actually went?" Dwalin asked once the rest of their company had left the King's study to go about their daily lives.

Thorin simply shook his head.

"Once maybe I could have guessed but now? Kili has itchy feet at the best of time and I can understand why the other three would have followed him, even blindly, when the itch got bad enough for him to want to wander off. One day he may out grow it…" Though Thorin very much doubted this. His nephew was far too at home not being at home, walking under the stars and seeing the different lands of Middle-Earth.

It pained Thorin to know his nephew was more comfortable travelling freely under the sun and moon than he was staying with his family, here, safe from all harms the world had to offer. But being out there, in the wildness of the world seem to make his nephew happy, not here, in the mountain with his people.

"One day we will discover the truth of where the four of them truly went but until that day let us stand by their story." Balin said a merry twinkle in his old eyes.

"You've gone soft, brother." Dwalin said with a bark of laughter as he slapped his older brother across his wide shoulders.

"Maybe soft around my middle, I'll grant you but my mind and temper are as sharp as ever. Which is more than I can say for you." Balin replied serenely.

"What was that?"

"However, your temper I greatly doubt will ever grow blunt." Balin added with a wink to Thorin who fought back a grin as he watched the two brothers, and his oldest friends, argue their way out of his study.

It seemed that all brotherly bonds were finally mending after being so long put under strain. His nephews were back to their old mischief and Bofur and Bombur were once more squabbling, mainly over Bombur's diet or lack of and the Ri brothers seemed to be, at the moment at least, not treading on each other's toes. It seemed all was well within his old company once more. He wasn't sure how or even why this had happened. Maybe the trip away had reminded the four of how much they missed their brothers and family and so having now returned, they were now determined to mend broken fences.

The thought cheered him greatly even if the why still nagged him at the back of his mind. Why now? Was it the trip, being away from home for so many months? Or was it…. something else?

Three monstrous trolls.

Now why was that bothering him as well? It wasn't so much that his nephew was implying that he and the other three had spent a month and a half searching for three stone trolls that had once tried to eat them but didn't because of… well, never mind that, it was more of how he talked about them. Both him and Ori, the way the two lads had described the Trolls had almost been like they were telling a story.

Telling a story…

He closed his eyes as he remembered someone precious who had loved to tell stories. Three monstrous trolls. That had been her term for them when she had been telling the children of Laketown that particular section of their tale.

Had the lads been thinking of her when they had been telling their fable about searching for the trolls? Or had they simply heard the tale often enough from her that they automatically recited her words whenever they spoke of the trolls?

Whatever the reason was, their words were stirring old memories within his heart. Old and dear and at most times banished to far reaches of his mind for they were simply too painful to think of.

But it was too late to do that this time, too late to banish the memories of her. So instead, he simply slides into his chair; eyes closed and allowed himself this moment to remember.

Laketown – five years ago

"And there I was, at the mercy of three monstrous trolls!" Thorin turned his head curiously in the direction of his burglar's voice coming from somewhere outside the house the old Mayor of Laketown had been kind enough to give them for the duration of their stay.

Thorin strode out of the front door of the house and into one of the courtyards that opened out into one of the town's streets.

He quickly spot the company's burglar sitting on a bench near the side of the house, underneath a tree, with a number of human children sitting around on the grass in front of her, all sitting with their backs straight and heads turn towards her in full attention to what she was saying.

"… whether it be turned on a spit or whether they should sit on us one by one and squash us into jelly."

Thorin lent against the stone wall of the house, arms crossed and fighting back a grin as he listened in amusement as the human youngsters gasped in horror and shock, some even reaching for their neighbour and hugging themselves close.

Bilbo smiled down at them all, her eyes glowing as she continued her tale.

"They spent so much time arguing the wither-tos and why-fors, that the Sun's first light cracked over the top of the trees – Poof!" The children all jumped and gasped as Bilbo waved her hands about dramatically. "And turned them all to stone!"

The human children laughed and cheered, clapping their hands as Bilbo hopped up on the bench and gave a few bows.

"Now off you go all of you, your parents are quite likely wondering where you are. I'm sure it's quite close to your tea time." Bilbo said hands on her hips and looking in Thorin's mind at least, quite like a mother.

Aunt, his mind said quickly shoving the thought of Bilbo being a mother out of his mind forcibly. She looks altogether like an aunt! Not a mother, an aunt.

There was a chorus of awww's from the children before they started to unsurprisingly plead for just one more story, just one.

"No, sorry. Off you all go." Bilbo said wagging her finger at them.

"Could we come by tomorrow then maybe?" a young lad whom Thorin grudgingly noted was quite close to his own height even though the lad could only be of thirteen years of age.

"Oooh, yes," the other children cried clasping their hands out in front of them, "Oooh, please say yes Miss Baggins, please. Please say yes."

Bilbo seemed to be thinking over this carefully though Thorin could see while the children could not, that this was all theatrics. The hand on her hip, a finger pressed to her chin thoughtfully as she tapped one of her large feet against the bench's stone surface, was all theatrics to stir and tease the human youngsters.

"Well," Bilbo drawled out slowly, not looking at the begging children standing around her but up at the clear sky above them, throwing colours of deep orange and purple as the day sunk into evening, "let me think…."

"Oh, please, Miss Baggins, please…" the children clambered as one, some bouncing up and down in the agitation and desperations.

"Oh alright, if I must." Bilbo sighed dramatically and the children were once more cheering and dancing around.

"But only," Bilbo started raising her voice over the children's cheers, "only if you all go straight home now and do everything your parents ask of you this evening, and by that I mean, you wash your hands and come to the table for your dinner the first time you Ma asks you, along with going straight to bed at bedtime. If you do all that, then tomorrow I will tell you another story. Do you all promise."

"We promise. We promise."

"Alright then, off you go. See tomorrow." Bilbo said grinning as she waved after the children who were all running from the courtyard laughing and singing.

"If only we had you around when Kili and Fili were dwarflings." Thorin called to her as she hopped down from the stone bench. He had obviously caught her by surprise because she quickly lost her balance and stumbled causing for him to move forward and catch her before she fell.

"And you lot all say I need a bell." She said as a way of greeting as she brushed down her new clothes – the clothes of a eight year old noble girl Thorin remembered as he watched for a brief moment her dusting down before clearing his throat and looking quickly away. While the clothes fitted her fine in length, the fabric was straining some around her chest area and hips. He had never realised just how curvy the hobbit was until they had arrived in Laketown and she had more or less been forced into wearing dresses, as it was considered most undignified for a woman of her age – all of forty he thought somewhat grouchily. She was still just a babe in dwarrow years – to be walking about in tunics, waistcoats and trousers. The hobbit had been less than thrilled to be once more forced into wearing dresses again – it had be long, hard fought battle in the Shire for her to wear whatever she wished – but she was gritting her teeth and keeping her mouth shut about it. For their quest sake and for his sake. Though neither the sake of their quest or him had stopped her from threatening to beat them all bloody with her letter opener if they so much as breathed a word about her new clothing situation.

She had already beaten Kili over the head with her letter opener on the first day she had worn a dress after he had, rather stupidly exclaimed that she "looked like a girl!" to which she rather crossly replied "that's because I am one, you half-wit!" before smacking him over the head with the flat side of her little blade and marched smartly out of their dining room.

"You do need one." Thorin replied as he set her straight and stepped back to a respectful distance ignoring the fact that she was rolling her eyes at him.

"I wore one remember. I almost scared Oin half to death."

"He doesn't count," Thorin replied lightly, "he's already deaf."

"What about Gloin then? Mister I-have-the-eyes-of-a-hawk-and-the-ears-of-a-fox?" the hobbit asked dryly and Thorin fought back a grin.

"You are never going to allow him to live that down are you?"

"Not on his life." She replied with a one of her sun filled, mischievous grins, her earthy brown eyes sparkling merrily. Thorin wonder to himself if it were possible to drown in such pure and loving happiness, for she was seemly brimming with it and Thorin seemly wished to remain in her warm presence forever.

Then forget this quest, forget the mountain, the gold and your revenge. Forget it all and be with her. Be with her and be forever happy. A voice that sounded surprisingly like his grandfather whispered softly in his ear.

He shook his head, clearing the voice from his mind, though the words sank into his heart with a sense of longing for a simple future that this offer promised.

Clearing his throat again, he changed the subject.

"You left out your part with the Trolls." He commented as they started walking around the courtyard towards the large and beautiful garden growing along the other side of the house.

"No I didn't." she replied, stretching her arms above her head as if she was reaching out to grasp the last rays of warmth from the setting sun. "You just missed the beginning of the story where I got caught and you lot had to come and save me."

"That wasn't…" Thorin sighed heavily feeling her brown eyes boring into him.

"That wasn't what I was referring to." He continued quietly. "I was referring to how you were the only one of us who thought to push for time. Only you thought of different ways to stall those damn creatures."

"Oh well, I was thinking of you lot when I edited out all that." Bilbo admitted her round cheeks flushed with pleasure at his rather badly spoken compliment.

"Oh?"

"Well, I hardly think any of you would appreciate the little ones reciting to their parents and everyone else in Laketown too for that matter that one of the ways I stalled the three monstrous trolls from eating you all was by telling them that you were all infected with parasites. Wouldn't really send the right message to all the big folk here now would it? Even if it isn't true and it was only said to try and save your lives."

Thorin simply shook his head bemused that she had actually thought all that through. She was probably right – she was almost always right he was discovering, not that he was going to admit that to her, at least not any time soon.

"Thank you." was all he could think to say not that he needed to say much more for she was once more sending him that glorious smile of hers.

He quickly found himself once more fighting the desire to kiss her. It was quite a common desire of late but he had to take care for whenever he gave into it so as to not startle her. The hobbit was quite inexperienced in almost all things related to courting – despite the fact that she had run away to join this quest on the very day she was meant to be married – and so he needed to take great care in not scaring her with anything she wasn't expecting.

"You are very good with them." He said after a few moments of companionable silence. She let out a cheerful little laugh that did funny things to his heart such as causing it to soar in his chest and flutter about like a bird. It was all quite ridiculous really what this tiny slip of woman could do to him.

"Lots and lots of practise." She chuckled fondly. "I do have a lot of cousins remember." She beamed as she always did whenever she spoke of her many, many little cousins still safely tucked away in the Shire.

"And you love them all dearly."

"With all my heart." She agreed with a softer smile as she gaze in the direction of Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains. In the direction of her home, his heart thinks with a sting, the place where she belongs…

"If I could have gotten away with it I'd have several of my own by now." Her voice brings him back to reality.

"Pardon?" He asks and is amused to watch her dimples turn a brilliant ruby red.

She ducked her head shyly, staring intently down at her bare, curly feet.

"Bilbo." He says stopping in the middle of the garden path, gently catching hold of her arm and tried to coax her to look at him. "Bilbo." Still no luck. "Billanna." She peeks up at him from under her golden brown curls. Third time was the charm. The use of her birth name also probably helped too.

"Now," he said as he caught hold of her chin gently but firmly within his grasp and turning her head up towards his, "what did you mean."

"Nothing." She mumbled her blush intensifying.

"Billanna…" the hobbit sighed in exasperation.

"Fine." She finally grouched out, "All I meant was that if I could have had children, without all the hassle of being married, I would have done so already…"

"Ah…"

"Yes, see even among dwarves that kind of thinking is frowned upon." She huffed crankily, pulling her chin free of his hand and crossing her arms defensively across her chest. "I can't adopt or even foster one of my little cousins without someone throwing a fit over my not being married. As if being married has anything to do with being able to raise a child properly."

"It does help, I have heard." Thorin replied rather dumbly. He wasn't good with these types of conversations; Bofur, Balin and Dori were the dwarves who would know best of what to say to the hobbit. Mahal, even his nephews and young Ori had better ideas of what to say and what not to say when dealing with his, that is, their burglar.

Yes, he had grown better at talking with the hobbit lass since their time together sitting in the cells under the palace of the damn elvenking trying to figure out a means of escaping but even so, his conversation skills were still much to be desired.

"My father raised me just fine." Bilbo snapped hot in reply. "And Fili and Kili seem no worse for wear being raised by your sister and you. Or Ori being raised by Dori. Or…"

"Billanna…" the hobbit stopped short in her rant to look up at him her cheeks exploding with colour once more as she ducked her head.

"Sorry, you must think me very silly or…" she trailed off with squeak as he pulled her into his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin. It felt better than he would ever openly admit to have her in his arms like this. Better if they were… he didn't allow himself to finish that particular thought.

"Never," he said into her curls, "apologize for speaking your hearts truths with me. I do not find you silly for your wishes. I think I can even understand them a little."

"Really?"

"A little. I know from watching the struggles my sister faced once she lost Fili and Kili's father that life as a woman can be far more challenging when dealing with things that for man would be as simple as beating a hammer onto an anvil."

"My life would have been much simpler if I had been born a lad." Bilbo replied with a sigh, her fingers lightly tracing the silver beads in his hair and beard, "there would certainly be no talk of me having to marry because I can't possibly take care of family affairs once Papa passes on because I am a simple hobbit lass whose only goal in life is to look pretty, get married and produce lots of little hobbit children." Thorin lips twitched as he fought back laugh at the high-pitch and slight nasal tone the lass had taken to using as she finished her sentence obviously mimicking one of her many stuck up aunts.

"Is that what you were told?"

"After my Mama died? Yes, all the time. Not so much from my Took and Brandybuck relatives but from my aunts on my father side?" Bilbo snorted, "They were worried too. Constantly even, that no one would want to."

"Marry you?"

"Yes. I was quite wild when I was younger," Thorin gave her a look which she returned with a very dry one of her own, "alright, younger than I am now, happy? Anyway, I was quite wild during my fauntling and teens years and not the tiniest bit interested in being a proper hobbit lady of my station."

"You sound like my sister," Thorin chuckled, "go on."

"Yes, well I was wild, running all over the Shire, searching for adventures and what not. Of course that all changed once Papa grew ill and I had to take care of him. All my aunts on his side of the family were pleased because I had finally calmed down enough to make me appear respectable enough for marriage only…"

"You have no wish to marry."

"None what so ever." Bilbo agreed, "And Papa backed me up on this, for the most part. Only with him getting weaker and weaker, I guess…" she trailed off with a sigh before shrugging. "Not that any of that matters now." She smiled up at him, "Not with me here with all of you, on the other side of the Misty Mountains."

Thorin stared at her for a moment before letting out a small chuckle.

"Nothing keeps you sad or disheartened for long, does it?"

"Hmmm, no, not really." She smiled serenely as she shook her head. It was more than Thorin could bear. He bent down and caught her smiling lips with his. He felt her grow tense in his arms for a moment before relaxing into his kiss.

"Uncle! Bilbo! DINNER!"

Thorin groaned in annoyance at his nephew's ill timing while Bilbo giggled sheepishly in his arms.

"Come, story-telling is hungry work." Bilbo said as she slipped easily out of his arms and Thorin immediately missed her presences in them.

"One day…" he growled under his breath causing the hobbit lass to giggle so more.

"Come O' Great King our dinner awaits." She said as she caught his arm in her much, much smaller one and started pulling him towards one of the entrances to the house.

One day, he thought as he allowed himself to be pulled along by his burglar. One day he would get his burglar completely alone in a room with a big bed, a locked door between them and the rest of the world, with his nephews – and the rest of their companions too – being far, far away.

He smiled at the thought as he and his hobbit strolled into the dining room, Bilbo almost skipping in front of him before she was bombarded by his nephews and young Ori who dragged her off to the opposite end of the table to where he sat – he was going to have a word or two to his nephews about that for he was sure that they were only doing this to vex him – chattering a mile a minute.

His annoyance however faded when she shot him an amused slash apologetic smile over her shoulder as she allowed herself to be pulled along by his nephews.

It was amazing how just one of her smiles could make all the bad and terrible feelings inside of him simply disappear.

At least for a time…

Thorin stirred from his peaceful slumber at the nagging ache in his neck and back.

He sat up slowly in his chair, carefully cracking his neck and back, sighing in relief as he did so.

Well, he thought as he stood up from his chair and stretched before heading immediately for the cabinet that held his secret stash of alcohol, at least that was one of his happier memories of her.

It truly was amazing just how easily one of her smiles could set his heart at ease. It still did even now, but only in his dreams. When he was awake however, her smiles only cause him to feel remorse and anger.

Mahal he had loved that woman. Still loved that woman.

He poured himself a large mug of one of his strongest wines that he saved for moments such as these.

He had never been much of drinker before he reclaimed Erebor but now he was lucky to go a day without at least one cup of strong alcohol in his system.

All because of her. It's always because of her…

Damn, he thought with a scowl, it was back. The voice that had almost driven him to complete madness and had caused him to cast away the one thing he treasured beyond all else. It came and went, depending usually on his mood. It was usually at it loudest and most vicious whenever he thought on her for too long.

Go away, he snarled back at the voice, leave me in peace.

Her fault, her fault, all of it is all her fault… He shoved the voice to far regions of his mind where it usually stayed, quiet but waiting. Always waiting.

He rubbed his face, his fingers lightly brushing his lips as he did so before snarling at himself and threw back his drink down his throat with one gulp.

He quickly poured himself another before moving back to his desk and flopped back into his chair.

Would he ever be free of her?

He grimaced at the thought.

No, that wasn't what he wanted, not really, not at all in fact. No, what he wanted was to be able to think of her freely, without the voice bothering him and him having to resort to drinking to try and ease the pain of her lose.

It never did, the pain of her lose was just too strong for even the most potent of alcohols to fully dissolve. But it eased it, some.

He closed his eyes as soon as he had sunk back into his chair behind his great oak desk, his huge cup resting in his hand, his other hand sliding into his coat pocket, his fingers curling around the precious treasure that lay hidden there. Once he was as comfortable as he would get in his chair, he leant his head back against the back of it.

He prayed that he would fall into a dreamless slumber that his mind would allow him to rest for a little awhile without it conjuring up more memories of her.

Just for a few hours let him sleep without dreams, without memories, let him fall into a sleep filled with the blackness and mindlessness of death.

Chapter Text

Revenge upon Unpleasant Relatives

Bilbo could feel the depressive, black cloud start to occur above her head almost as soon as her four dwarves had moved out of sight down Bagshot Row but had forced herself to smile back at her family.

She was able to keep her warm and happy smile for almost two weeks before it started to slip once more into a smile that was forced. The only times her smiles were ever truly there and filled with any kind of warmth was when they were directed towards her son or father and maybe a few of her little cousins who came by to visit with their Took or Brandybuck mothers.

She was surprised by the lack of gossip surrounding her of later. She was expecting with the leaving of her dwarves, wicked tongues would once more be wagging but no, no such thing had occurred. And for that she was grateful.

Maybe I should have threaten to break Lobelia's arm years ago, Bilbo had thought one evening while she made dinner for her father and son before letting out a small laugh.

It was three weeks after the dwarves had left when she was invited around for tea with her Baggins cousins.

"Please Bilbo." Begged Dora, her favourite female Baggins relative, "Please don't leave me all alone with Ma and all the old bats she has invited!"

"Dora!" Bilbo said trying to sound as if she was scolding her cousin, only she was laughing too hard for it to be an effective scolding.

"What? It is true." Dora said with a stamp of her foot. "So will you come? You haven't been around to visit in such a long time. It's not as if we live all the way in Buckland, you'll be home before dinner."

"Dora."

"Please Auntie Bilbo." Dora clasped her hands out in front of her.

"Oh, alright." Bilbo groaned. "But this had better not be some trick to try and set me up with some suitor or other."

Dora pulled a face.

"Of course not! If anything, it'll me they'll be clucking over, saying which son should and could marry me." Dora pulled a quite tragic expression even though Bilbo secretly knew her younger cousin was not nearly as opposed to the idea of marriage as Bilbo herself had been when she been that age.

"I'll be there, Dora." Bilbo reassured her cousin who let out a happy squeal before throwing her arms around Bilbo's neck, crying, "Thank you, thank you," over and over.

"It's next Wednesday, two o'clock. Don't be late; you know how my mother gets when anyone arrives late to one of her afternoon teas."

"That I do Dora."

"Well, I had better be off." The hobbit lass sighed in a resigned matter. "Ma wants me to go to market and pick up a few things."

"Say hello to your mother, father and brothers for me won't you. Is your brother still head over heels for Primula Brandybuck?" Bilbo asked with a soft but amused smile.

Dora rolled her eyes at her younger brother's antics.

"He's trying to learn to row a boat so that he can impress her." Dora said with a delighted shiver. Baggins's were well-known for their great distaste with anything to do with large quantities of water in one place.

Bilbo's mind briefly drifted back to a moment in time that she had spent clinging to the side of barrel as it tumble down a great forest river in the direction of an even greater lake.

"Bilbo?"

"Hmmm…" Bilbo was drawn from her memories by her cousin's warm hand upon her arm, her dark eyes wide with concern.

"Are you quite alright?" Dora asked somewhat cautiously and Bilbo had to fight back a sigh for she could almost see the term 'Mad Bilbo Baggins' moving about her little cousin's head.

"Yes, I'm fine Dora. I think I've just had a bit too much sun today that is all." This seemed to have pacified her little cousin who went on to babble a few more rounds of gossip before taking her leave of Bag End.

Bilbo closed her front door feeling quite warn out. It had been over three weeks since she had had a proper conversation with anyone beside from her father and the Gamgees, the rest of her time had been spent on her book and taking care of her rambunctious son. Her rambunctious son…

Oh, wonderful, now she had to think of someone to take care of him for Wednesday afternoon. If she lived in or near Brandy Hall or Tuckborough she would never have a problem trying to find someone to watch her child, but here in Hobbiton it was quite a problem indeed.

Her papa could simply not keep up with Frodo's energy and none of her Baggins relatives beside from Dora and her family, who were the ones inviting Bilbo over for tea, really wanted anything to do with her child. Bilbo supposed she could always try and pull rank and make one of her Baggins take care of her child for the afternoon but she'd really rather not. She may be the head of the family, much to the disgust of some family members, but she had never felt the need to truly use – or abuse – the power that the title possessed.

She was chewing over her predicament in her front parlour when she heard a gentle knock on her front door.

"Coming." She called and pushed herself out of her favourite chair by the fire and trotted to her front.

"Gaffer." She said with a wide smile once she had discovered who was calling her. Her gardener smiled in return, offering her a large basket of vegetables, freshly pulled from her garden. And she suspected that a few had come from his own as well.

"Oh, Gaffer, thank you. You truly have a gift for making plants grow to their full potential." She said as she took the basket from him and started to admire it contents.

The Gaffer blushed and mumbled that it was his job but thanking you all the same before moving off to take himself off home. He was just about to pass through his gate when an idea occurred to her.

"Gaffer," Bilbo called causing her gardener to look back at her curiously, his curly blond hair shining brightly in the afternoon light.

"I have a favour to ask of you, if that would be alright?"

"Quite alright, Master Baggins." Her gardener replied with a wide grin

"Would you and your wife mind terribly to take care of Frodo next Wednesday afternoon?"

"Of course Miss Baggins, we'd be delighted."

"Thank you Gaffer. It'll only be for a couple of hours."

Gaffer nodded and smiled and bid her good night.

"Good night Gaffer. Say hello to your Father and Bell for me. And to all the children of course."

"I will Master Baggins. Good night." He gave her a cheerful wave before heading off down the lane for home.

Sighing heavily, Bilbo closed her front door and carried her basket of vegetable to the kitchen to start preparing dinner, dreading the coming Wednesday.

Wednesday came all together too quickly for Bilbo. It had been a long time since she had been invited to a formal afternoon tea since before her great adventure. And Ruby Baggins nee Bolger afternoon teas were big events in Hobbiton.

She stared down at her dress in disgruntlement. It was one of her more formal dresses, one that she hadn't worn since the days before her adventure.

It fitted more firmly around her hips and chest than it once had, but she supposed she should expect as much since having a child.

She ran her hands carefully over her stomach and hips, feeling the soft cloth beneath her fingers.

She supposed it was quite a pretty dress but the blue colour of it reminds her all too keenly of Thorin's eyes. But she had no time to change her dress now, so with a deep sigh, she looked away from her oval bedroom mirror and called for Frodo.

Her lad appeared almost immediately in her doorway, his eyes are bright and excited, clutching his wooden dragon closely to his chest.

"Ready?" Bilbo asked with a small smile.

"es Mama." He beamed up at her before reaching his arms up for her to pick him up.

"Goodbye Papa. Afternoon tea is on the kitchen table." Bilbo said as she kissed her father's temple from where he sat in his favourite chair by the fire in the front parlour.

"Good – Good bye. Take care of yourself," he wiggled his fingers lightly beneath Frodo's chin causing the little boy to giggle, "you be a good boy, now won't you my lad?"

"es, Grampas."

"See you tonight. If you need anything, the Gamgee's…"

"Dear heart, I will be fine, now off with you or you'll be late." Her father said with a soft smile and waved her out of the room.

"Alright, sweetheart, off we go." Bilbo said as she closed Bag End's great round green door and resettled her son upon her hip.

It was a short walk to Number 3, Bagshot Row and it was almost like second nature to knock on the familiar yellow front door.

Bilbo smiled when she heard the loud squeals of several children as they raced to the front door, completely ignoring the incoherent yells of adults from deeper within the hobbit-hole.

The yellow door swung open revealing a well-rounded youth in his late teens with a wide smile and bright dark eyes.

"Good afternoon Hamson." Bilbo greeted the youth who beamed back at her as his younger sibling tried to shove their way out the door.

"Good afternoon Master Bilbo, how are… would you lot knock it off!" the boy growled in annoyance at his shoving siblings behind him.

"But we want to say hello too!" one cried angrily trying to around Hamson form.

"Stop hogging Miss Bilbo all to youself." Another cried and Hamson gave yelp as a well aimed kick hit him in the back of his leg.

Bilbo took a few hurried steps back to avoid having the teen fall upon her and her child. The moment Hamson was out of the way the rest of the Gamgee children came streaming out the front door, crying loudly and cheerily their delight at her visiting them.

"Well, hello all of you," Bilbo said with genuine affection. She had always had a soft spot for children, all children no matter their race or who their parents were.

"Halfred you're getting taller! And look at you two, getting prettier every time I see you." Bilbo said smiling at the two Gamgee girls who beamed back at her in delight, their round cheeks flushing brightly.

"Oi, didn't I tell you lot to wait for me!" the children's eyes grew wide and before looking remorsefully back within their hobbit-hole as their mother strode towards them with young Samwise sitting on her hip, quietly playing with her curls.

"Good afternoon Bell."

"Afternoon Miss Baggins. I hope these lot didn't run you over. Hamson, what are you doing on the ground?" Bell Gamgee asked as she gave her eldest child a very bland look causing the lad to blush and hop quickly to his feet.

"Nothing, ah, inspecting the dirt?"

"Oh, and was it in need of such close inspection?" Bell asked drily.

"Ah… yes?" Bell rolled her eyes before giving Bilbo a small amused smile.

"Are you staying for tea Miss Bilbo?" May, the youngest of the Gamgee girls, asked hopefully.

"No, I'm afraid not." Bilbo replied regretfully. She would far more prefer to stay here with the Gamgees than spend an afternoon with stuck up relatives, even though she was quite fond of her cousins Dora, Drogo, their rascal of a little brother Dudo and their mother too. That is when the woman wasn't running one of her mad tea parties. Her tea parties made the usually calm and quiet Ruby Baggins quite unbearable due to her desire for complete perfection during the whole event.

The Gamgee children pouted up at her.

"But, I do have a big favour to ask all of you?" Bilbo said trying to get the children smiling once more. "Could you possibly take care of Frodo for the afternoon?"

"Of course." The two Gamgee girls beamed back at her brilliantly. The eldest girl, Daisy, came forward with her arms open to take the beaming Frodo from his mother's arms, the little boy smiling brightly at her as she did so.

"DAY!" He cheered as he wrapped his arms around her neck, causing the girl to giggle before she and May started cooing over him.

"Alright, well, he seems happy enough, so I'll sneak off while he's occupied." Bilbo said to Bell as the two mothers watched the children play.

"I'll be back before dinner time." She added and Bell nodded.

"He's welcome to stay for dinner, if need be." Bell replied as she gently bounced her baby on her hip.

Bilbo smiled fondly at sweet, little Samwise, her arms itching to hold him and coo over him but she had not the time, so with a final wave to the children and their mother, she head off down Bagshot Row towards Fosco and Ruby Baggins hobbit-hole, with more than a hint of dread in her stomach.

And she quickly discovered, the moment she entered Froso and Ruby Baggins hobbit-hole that she had every right to dread.

"What is Lobelia and Lotho Sackville-Baggins doing here?" she asked the youngest of Froso and Ruby's three children who had been desperately trying to escape the tea party unseen as she entered the hobbit-hole.

"Uh," Dudo said looking over at the two people in question, "not entirely sure to tell you the truth. I wasn't aware they were even coming until, well, they came through the front door. Can I go now Auntie Bilbo? I want to sneak out before Mother gives me another chore to do." The tween looked nervously in the direction of his mother who was conversing Rosa Baggins.

"Alright, off with you, you scamp. Try to stay out of trouble."

"Oh, I will." The boy replied with a wicked and cheeky gleam in his eyes before he shot off towards the front door.

Bilbo shook her head after her cousin before clenching her face into a smile, strode into the front parlour.

"Billanna!" Ruby cried in delight as she stopped her conversation with Rosa Baggins to come to Bilbo's side to give her a huge. Getting a hug from Ruby Baggins when she was in one of her less than frantic moods was much like how she remembered being hugged by her long-time deceased mother.

Bilbo tentatively returned the hug, knowing that if she allowed herself to fully relax into the embrace she would most likely humiliate herself by starting to cry. And that was the last thing she wanted to do in front of Lobelia and Lotho Sackville-Baggins.

"How are you, sweetheart?" Ruby gushed once she had released her. "You're looking a bit thin in the face, sweetness." Ruby said her eyes wide with worry that had Bilbo blushing.

"I'm fine, thank you, Aunt Ruby." Bilbo said with a small, but genuine smile.

"And your little one? How is he? Still getting into everything?"

Bilbo couldn't help but give a rather un-lady like snort.

"But of course. Yes, he is well too."

"Is your father taking care of him this afternoon? Oh, bother…" Ruby said as she started wringing her hands worriedly, "I did forget about how young your little one is. I should have thought…"

"It's perfectly alright, Aunt Ruby." Bilbo said quickly, hopping to stop the storm of worry that would surely come if she left Ruby to ramble on, "He's staying with the Gamgees for this afternoon."

Bilbo heard a rather unkind snort from somewhere nearby but she ignored. She refused to allow herself to be riled up or insulted this afternoon.

"Oh, that's a relief. They have a young son close to Frodo's age don't they?" Ruby asked once more gushing happily.

"Yes, yes they do. Young Samwise. And their daughters quite simply adore him, so he's in very good hands. The best even. I can't think of anyone better to mind him."

"Because no one else will." She heard someone whisper and several sniggers following the comment. Ruby had obviously heard the comment and sniggers for she was wringing her hands once more.

Bilbo, to save her aunt from wringing her hands to death, quickly moved across the room to where Dora was sitting with some of the younger lasses attending the tea party.

"Auntie Bilbo." Dora exclaimed in delight as Bilbo sat down with the lasses, some smiling at her while others looked at her with varying looks of distaste.

Bilbo fought back a sigh. Why had she come here today? Honestly, why?

She didn't pay much attention to the chatter around her in the parlour, instead allowed for her mind to drift. Though only for a time as voices and words have nasty habit of dragging one from the peace of their own thoughts, especially when said voices are cruel and the words they speak are unkind and about oneself and family.

"What I find truly terrible about young people these days is that they think that they can get away with anything without a single thought about the consequences." Lobelia snotty, stuck-up voice broke through Bilbo's thoughts. She forced herself to not openly react to the comments. Only this quickly proved to be impossible.

"I quite agree Aunt Lobelia." Replied Hilda, Lobelia's niece, with a snotty sniff. Her young daughter Celandine who was sitting between Hilda and Lobelia was pressing her face into her hands.

She peeked through her fingers over to Bilbo who forced herself to smile reassuringly back at the young lass, who took far more after her Brandybuck of a father than she did after her Bracegirdle mother.

Bilbo once more tried to shut out the nasty voices out of her head, but it was growing increasingly harder to do so as Lobelia got more and more of Bilbo's snottier female relatives going.

"And let's not get started on the problem of inheritance laws these days." Lobelia said and Bilbo's fingers were curling into fists. "It seems that these days the laws have grown quite slack on important matters such as cutting off ones rightful heirs and naming a bastard in their stead."

Bilbo's fingernails were digging into her palms.

"And not any kind of bastard, right Aunt?" Hilda snickered nastily.

"Quite right, dear niece." Lobelia said with a cold and wicked smile in Bilbo's direction, "but a bastard who I do believe isn't quite altogether a hobbit."

There were collective gasps all around the parlour.

"Lobelia!" Ruby gasped as she pressed a hand over her heart, her face was bright red and filled with horror.

"Yes Ruby?" Lobelia asked serenely, "Is something the matter?"

Ruby seemed to be quite beyond words, her hand still fluttering over her heart.

"I am only speaking the truth. Anyone who consorts with," Lobelia's wrinkled her face in disgust, "people of different races should expect such a thing. And I'm only saying that those who do should do the courtesies thing and not inflict their presences upon the rest of us and should remove their illegitimate child from succession where they should never have been placed to begin with. I mean, it really is only proper and right thing to…"

"Lobelia?" Bilbo could no longer take it. She had sat idly by and allowed this horrible old bat insult her and her family for far too long. She was going to put a stop to this, once and for all.

She could feel all eyes upon her but she ignored them as she met her cousin-in-law straight in the eyes, causing Lobelia's cheeks to flush a dull pink.

"Yes Billanna?" Lobelia asked her voice snotty but Bilbo was pleased to detect as hint of fear in her pale eyes.

This knowledge caused Bilbo to smile which seemed to disturb all of her relatives who had been insulting her for the better half of the afternoon while causing her other relatives, those who were fond of her to smile back, clearly delighted to see her finally taking a stand against these nasty women. In particular Lobelia as she was their leader of sorts.

"May I have a word with you? In private?" Bilbo asked in a sickeningly sweet tone, her smile only growing as she watched Lobelia swallow nervously.

"Aunt Ruby?" She turned to look at her aunt who had gone back to wringing her hands, her face very red and looking altogether quite miserable.

"Yes Billanna?" She asked in a soft voice and looking quite close to tears causing for Bilbo the wish that she could hug her, but now was not the time.

"I was wondering if I might borrow Uncle Fosco study for a few moments, if that's alright?"

"Oh yes, of course." Ruby babbled weakly as she stood up from her chair and pointed in the direction that Bilbo knew Fosco's study to be in.

"He's out at the moment, so you should have all the privacy you need." Ruby continued nervously while Bilbo smiled at her gratefully all the while thinking 'I very much doubt that'.

"Coming Lobelia?" Bilbo said looking back at her cousin-in-law cheerfully, "I think you and I need to have a little chat. It's quite overdue, I do believe. Wouldn't you agree? Sorry, Lotho, but I only wish to speak to your mother at this present moment in time." Bilbo said as she waved her once-husband-to-be back into his seat causing him to glare back at her in return. Which Bilbo ignored and after making sure that Lobelia was following her out of the parlour, she walked with her head held high towards Fosco's study.

"Yes Billanna?" Lobelia asked with a tight little smile, her eyes narrowing as she watched Bilbo close and lock the door of the study securely behind them. "What is it?"

Bilbo took a deep breath and allowed form some of the fury, humiliation and pain that she had been feeling for years, swell within her chest.

"I thought it was time that we had a chat, as our conversations are usually quite one sided, don't you agree? Well, this conversation is going to be very much like our usual ones, expect with this one, I will be the one speaking and you will stand there and listen to every word I say and not say a single word in return. Only I think you'll find what I have to say to you much more nerve-wracking, life-changing than anything you have ever said to me ever was."

"I don't have to listen to you." Lobelia sneered.

"Oh but dear cousin, I think you'll discover that you really do, for if you don't I could make your life and the life you are very much accustomed to very, very uncomfortable for you. But then," Bilbo nonchalant shrug, "I could still make your life very uncomfortable for you even if you do listen to every word I speak in this moment. But it's all up to you. Will you listen to me… or will you not? Either way I'm perfectly happy to play out my revenge," Bilbo smiled widely.

Bilbo leant back against Fosco beautiful carved wooden desk as Lobelia chewed spitefully over her words.

"Fine." She snapped and Bilbo smirked.

"Good choice. Now you have to listen to every word I say or…"

"Yes, yes, now get on with." Lobelia snapped but Bilbo could clearly read the fear and apprehension in her eyes.

"Lobelia," She spoke calmly and coolly, allowing for all her pain and humiliation to fuel her words while still keeping a tight grip upon them all at the same time. "Lobelia, I have taken everything you have said to me or about me with reasonable grace, would you not agree?" She didn't given her cousin-in-law time enough to agree or disagree before she continued on, "I have listened to every sneered comment and nasty remark you have made and I have not said a word in retort. I have breathed not a word about that particularly unfortunate incident that occurred in my front garden a few weeks ago, even though I have every right to do so. And if you had not proceeded to push my hand to day, I would have continued to have kept my mouth shut about, well, everything, but now? I have had enough." She stopped smiling now and allowed for her face to contort into scowl that had Lobelia taking a step away from her and towards the locked door, "I will no longer put up with your insults, jibs, sneered remarks or cruel comments and rumours you continually spin about me and my child!" Bilbo felt herself start to lose control over her temper and forced herself to take a few deep calming breathes before continuing, trying to imagine herself to be like cold fire. Like how she remembered him, whenever he was truly furious. A blazing fire captured within freezing ice. That was how she wanted to appear in this moment. In this moment she wanted to be like him.

Lobelia opened her mouth to start protesting or shoot back some kind of retort only Bilbo did not give her the time to do so.

"If you so much as speak another word about my child, my father, or about any of my friends, be they hobbits, elves, wizards or dwarves or about myself, I will see you ostracized from this day onwards from all polite company within the Shire. And don't even think for a single moment," Bilbo snapped as Lobelia started to protest, her eyes wide with shock and horror, "that I won't. I am the head of this family, and yes, I may be considered by some as 'Mad Bilbo Baggins' but I still have all the powers that a head of a family possess. And I'm not just the head of this family, am I? If you will please, remember that I also have important family members in the Took and Brandbuck clans. Please remember that my mother was the daughter of the Old Took and that her youngest brother is still Thain for the Shire and he would only be too glad to put a stop to horrible rumours that you have been spinning for all these years. Both him and the Master of Brandy Hall, I believe, and not just them I can assure you. Please believe me when I say, Mrs Sackville-Baggins, that if I so much as breathe the word, you would become a social pariah in a heartbeat."

"You wouldn't." Lobelia stuttered as she placed a hand over her heart as she stared at Bilbo in disbelieve and horror.

"I would." Bilbo replied coolly, "Please don't underestimate me Lobelia. If I hear so much as a whisper, you and your family will be finding yourselves in need of moving to Bree as you will no longer be welcome in any parlour within all the Shire. Good afternoon." Bilbo finished with a wide smile as she stared at her pale cousin-in-law whose hands were still fluttering over her chest as Bilbo moved past her to open the study door, not at all surprised when several lady hobbits fell onto the floor at her feet. She knew there would be eavesdroppers, which made the whole exchange all the better.

Hobbits were notorious sticky-beaks and gossipers, so it would only be a matter of time before all the Shire knew of Bilbo's threat to Lobelia which would be an even greater incentive for Lobelia to keep her mouth shut for the moment she didn't someone would let someone else know and well… Goodbye Sackville-Baggins.

Grinning widely at the very thought, she stepped carefully over the fallen hobbits, said her goodbyes and thank youse to the hobbit ladies who had remained in the front parlour, all of whom were looking at her with questioning expressions but seemed to be content with her smile for now.

She knew well enough that she would be receiving multiple callers in the coming days from curious relatives such as Dora and her mother – she must make a note to make a very nice afternoon tea for dear Ruby as the poor hobbit lady still looked to be quite distressed with how her afternoon tea had gone – but at the current moment in time Bilbo was in no mood to answer any questions, simply desiring to be of the smial and outside in the fresh air underneath the sky with the lowering sun warming her face.

Chapter Text

Bilbo was right in her prediction that curious relatives would come calling the moment it was a considered a reasonable hour to do so. In fact, she was even counting the minutes to when it was considered a reasonable hour to call upon someone, grinning when she heard a loud knock against her front door the moment the clock on the mantel piece struck nine thirty on this fine Thursday morning.

With an almost skip to her step – she had not felt this free and childlike in years. Even her time with her dwarves hadn’t made her feel this way – as she went to answer her door, not at all surprised to see who was standing on her front doorstep.

In fact, there was more than one person on her door step and she was briefly reminded of the night she had found six or so dwarves plus a wizard falling through her front door on to her front mat. Only, of course, the wizard hadn’t fallen, he had stood back and watch the whole event occur, laughing quietly with his eyes twinkling.

But anyway, back to the present, Bilbo told herself firmly as she smiled at several young cousins standing on her doormat looking at her with mix expressions of awe and disbelief.

“Hello you lot.” Bilbo said brightly, “I guess you would all like to come in and have some breakfast.”

“Yes please.”

“Dudo, hush now,” Dora said as she nudged her younger brother in his ribs, “now is not the time for food.”

Dudo scowled up at his elder sister but fell respectfully quiet.

“Even so,” Bilbo said grinning at her mix-match of assembled cousins, “I’m guessing you would all like to come in, yes?”

“Yes, please.” Dora said and Bilbo stepped back to allow all the youngsters inside her front-hall.

“Hello there Primula. I didn’t get a chance to say hello to you yesterday. Or to you too Drogo.” She couldn’t help but grin at the blushing young adults. Honestly, young love was truly one of the most adorable of things to witness. Not that she had any experience of what young love was like, of course. She had never had a ‘young love’.

No, the only love that she ever experienced was a short-lived one. But it had been great and powerful and left her with a heart that was broken beyond repair and whatever was left of it was still so solely his she could never give it away the pieces to anyone else… no matter how much she might want to.

She shook her head, shaking those thoughts away.

Dudo was also watching his elder brother and young Miss Primula closely and let out a little immature giggle.

“Oh,” he sang, “I wonder why that was.”

“Hush up Dudo.” Drogo growled at his little brother, looking quite close to smacking the lad over the back of his head.

“Now, now, behave. Are we expecting anyone else?” Bilbo said grinning despite herself.

“Ah,” Drogo said going quite red around his ears, “I do believe Paladin and Saradoc are coming around shortly.” He looked to Primula for confirmation who nodded her blonde head looking quite embarrassed indeed.

“Saradoc and Paladin?” Bilbo asked quite surprised. She hadn’t been expecting them. “What are those two trouble-makers doing in Hobbiton?”

“Ah, escorting me for Mrs Ruby’s tea party.” Primula blushed in embarrassed. Bilbo got over her surprise and started to feel amused when she heard Prim’s disgruntled grumble under her breath, “escorted by my own nephew! He’s only a year older than I!”

“Oh Prim,” Bilbo chuckled fondly; she had always had a soft spot for her mother’s sister’s youngest daughter, “try being almost wedded to your father’s younger brother’s son’s son who also happens to be older than yourself, and then we’ll talk.” Bilbo teased and Prim giggled.

“Yes, that is rather odd.” Prim said with a shy grin.

Bilbo rolled her eyes, thinking that calling the arrangement simply odd was something of an understatement.

“Oh, very much so.” She still cringed at the very thought of it. “Well, when will your nephew and his Fool of a Took and my second cousin going to arrive then?”

“Ah…” Prim said her cheeks flushing once more.

“I think that’s them now.” Dudo said as he peered out of Bilbo’s front door and down Bag Shot Row. “Yes, it’s them. HELLO!”

“Dudo!”

“Dudo, please, inside voice.” Bilbo said gently to the embarrassed tween.

“Sorry Auntie Bilbo.”

“That’s quite alright but please remember that a very sick old hobbit lives in this house so he does like his quiet.”

“Where’s my little second cousin?” Prim asked looking around her, clearly hoping that Frodo would pop out from behind the umbrella stand.

“Sleeping.” Bilbo replied, “he had a very busy afternoon yesterday, so he’s still sleeping it off, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” Primula said with a pout.

“I’m sure that he’ll be awake before you all leave.” Bilbo added and both hobbit lasses beamed.

“Hello? Aunt Bilbo?” Paladin Took was sticking his curly brown head around the Bilbo’s front door.

“Hello Paladin. Where’s Saradoc?”

“Here.” A second head appeared around her door.

Bilbo fought back a wide grin at the sight of the two. Out of all her cousins on her Took and Brandybuck side, these two scamps were by far her favourite. She had spent much of her youth in their company, despite them both being several years her junior.

“Come in you rascals!” she said brightly and the two lads entered her front hall beaming at her with equal cheek.

“Where’s Frodo?” Paladin asked as he closed the front door.

“Sleeping.” Bilbo explained, “Busy afternoon yesterday.”

“And he wasn’t the only one who had a busy afternoon I heard, Aunt Bilbo.” Saradoc teased his eyes bright with intelligence and cheek.

“How much have you actually heard and how much of what you’ve heard is actually rumours?” Bilbo asked as she led her troupe of cousins towards the kitchen.

“Ah, well…” Drogo said as he sat himself down beside Prim at Bilbo’s kitchen table. He looked over at Dudo who turn slightly red.

“Ah, eavesdropping again were you Dudo?” Bilbo asked her youngest present cousin who went an even brighter shade of red.

“I wasn’t actually meaning to, I swear. I just so happened to be outside Papa’s study window when you entered it with Mrs Sackville-Baggins.” The boy mumbled as he stared intently down at his fingers. There weren’t many in the Shire who could make Dudo Baggins feel bad about whatever mischief he had gotten up to, but Bilbo was indeed one of the few who could.

“Is it true that you would have her ostracized?” Dora asked curiously.

“Yes, yes, I would.” Bilbo said firmly causing her cousins to look at her in shock and amazement. Paladin and Saradoc looked at her with new found respect.

“But only,” She added, “if she pushes my hand.”

“I don’t know why you haven’t threaten to do this to her before Bilbo.” Saradoc stated, “After all the horrid things she has been saying about you behind your back for all these years.”

“And to her face.” Dora added bristling with anger on Bilbo’s behalf.

Bilbo sat back in her chair, feeling quite heart-warmed by the angry response from her cousins at the treatment that she had been receiving over the years from stuck-up relatives.

“But,” Bilbo said over their voices, hoping to both calm and quietened them all down, “that has all been sorted now. Lobelia will be keeping her nasty opinions to herself from now on.”

“Do you believe she will?” Dudo asked curiously.

“Lobelia love of reputation and social standing will be what keeps her mouth shut.” Bilbo said with a shrug as she distributed scones, jam and cream around the table for the young adults and tween to eat.

“Maybe so, but it still doesn’t make her pay for all the awful things she’s spoken about you these past few years.” Dora grumbled as she bit deeply into a scone.

Bilbo shrugged.

“Don’t you care what she’s been saying Auntie Bilbo?” Dudo asked curiously, his dark blonde head tilted to one side.

“No, not really.”

“Why?” the boy asked.

“Dudo.” Dora and Drogo exclaimed, “Don’t be rude!”

“I wasn’t, though, I was just asking why?” Dudo cried back in annoyance, “I want to know how she does it, so that maybe,” he looked back at Bilbo, “you could teach me?”

“Teach you?”

“To not care what people say about me.” The boy replied his eyes becoming sad.

Bilbo smiled fondly at the lad.

“It’s mind over matter. I don’t mind and they don’t matter.”

“Does that really work?” Dudo asked, a tad sceptical.

“It does for me.” Most of the time, “but then I am much, much older than you Dudo.” Bilbo chuckled.

“Only by twenty something years.” The lad said pouting before grinning his usual mischievous smile back at her.

“Oh,” Bilbo said with a mock groan, “don’t say it like that! Now, you’ve made me feel old.”

“Aunt,” Dora giggled, “you’re not even forty-five yet.”

“Shush, keep your voices down.” Bilbo grinned as her cousins to giggle.

“But getting back to the matter at hand,” Saradoc said once everyone had calmed down again, “are you certain that this will be enough to keep the old bat’s, and the rest of her awful family, mouths shut?”

“Yes, I do think so. Though,” Bilbo said speaking carefully now for she had to word her next few sentences just right, “I do believe that I will have their tongues wagging again in a couple of years’ time.”

“Oh, why?”

Bilbo hesitated, not sure if she really should be telling this to her young cousins when she hadn’t even mention it to any of their heads of family.

“Well, possibly because of what I have planned for Frodo’s future will not be looked well upon by others.”

Her cousins frowned at her, heads cocked to one side.

“What do you mean?”

“Bilbo, there are those who already look poorly upon what they believe Frodo’s future to be.” Paladin said with a cheeky grin.

“Yes, I know that already, thank you very much Paladin. But that is not the future that I am referring to.”

“The one where Frodo becomes head of the Baggins family and inherits Bag End?” Dora asked.

“Yes, that one. That is not the future I have planned for him, but rather the future I have planned for you three.” She gestured to her three Baggins cousins.

“Who? US?” Dudo squeaked in delight, bouncing up and down in his seat, while his elder brother and sister simply looked back at her gobsmacked.

“Yes, you three. But I swear if I hear this going around the Shire Dudo Baggins, I will use Sting on you, do you understand me?” Bilbo warned her youngest cousin firmly.

“Yes, Auntie Bilbo.” The boy replied meekly

“But what about Frodo? I thought you said you didn’t listen to all the nasty gossip. Why are you planning on cheating him out of his rightful inheritance?” Drogo asked looking quite annoyed on his little cousin’s behalf.

“I’m not cheating him out of anything,” Bilbo replied as calmly as she could though she was having second thoughts about telling her plans to her young and still reasonably hot-head cousins. “I simply have different plans for him. If he decides that he does not wish for what I have planned then he will inherit Bag End and become Head of our family. But,” and she did hope he would, “if he does chooses to go through with my plans for him, than I need to decide who will inherit Bag End and the family title. And I have chosen you three.”

“But… but…” she seemed to have rendered her three Baggins cousins speechless.

“What do you have planned for Frodo, Aunt Bilbo, if you don’t mind my asking?” Saradoc asked his dark eyes curious.

Bilbo looked down at her hands, smiling sadly.

“My plan… my hope is that when he comes of age he’ll choose to go and meet his father and I pray that his father will accept him and give him a place by his side.”

“Frodo’s… father?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Where is he?” Prim asked softly.

“Far, far away from here.”  Bilbo sighed heavily.

“Those dwarves…” Dora started saying slowly and carefully.

“No, he wasn’t one of them. He doesn’t know about Frodo and probably won’t until Frodo goes to him when he’s thirty-three.”

“So Frodo’s father is dwarf!” Dudo said looked thrilled while his elder siblings and cousins blinked dumbly at their aunt as they digested this piece of information that they had heard for years through spiteful rumours but had never quite believed was actually true.

“So…” Drogo started slowly, clearly still trying to wrap his hear around the fact that his favourite cousin was indeed half dwarf. Not the easiest of concepts for even the most laid-back hobbit to get his head around.

“Yes, that bit of Lobelia’s nasty rumours was indeed correct. For being such a tactless women she is quite perspective when it comes to anything that can fuel new gossip.” Bilbo said with a shrug of her shoulders as she moved over to her boiled kettle.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Prim spoke slowly, “he’s never been what you would call your average hobbit baby.”

“Too quick, too clever for one of such a young age.” Drogo agreed.

“Yes, well now you know why.” Bilbo sighed as she moved the kettle to the table and started to pour hot water into everyone’s tea cups. “And I would ask that would keep this knowledge to yourselves.”

“OF COURSE!” Bilbo bit back a grin at the outraged voices of her cousins, who were all giving her looks of shock and annoyance, clearly offended that she would have such a little trust in them.

“Wha’s – what’s all this racket? Dear heart, those dwarves of yours aren’t back, are they? We’ve barely restocked the pantry from their last visit…”

“Good morning Mr Baggins.” The cousins chimed brightly as Bungo walked into the kitchen. He looked them all over once before giving his daughter one of his looks. He let out a great sigh when Bilbo only smiled serenely back at him, muttering under his breath, “I think I’d rather have dwarves.”

He gratefully took the steaming cup of tea from Bilbo before informing them all that he was going back to bed.

“Don’t know whether to be amused or hurt.” Saradoc stated cheekily once they were sure Bungo was safely tuck back away in his room.

“Be amused.” Bilbo advised with a small smile.

“Why doesn’t he like us?” Dudo asked looking torn between being amused and slightly hurt.

“Oh, it’s not you, exactly, he doesn’t like.” Bilbo reassured the youngster.

“Then what is it that he doesn’t like?”

“The loudness and irresponsibility of youth.” Bilbo stated simply with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Huh?”

“He’s old and we make him feel ever older is basically what Aunt Bilbo is saying.” Saradoc said with a grin while Bilbo rolled her eyes.

“There’s a bit more to it that that, but that’s one way to sum up he’s feelings.” Bilbo chuckled fondly.

She hears her name being called; the name that means far more to her than the name her mother gave to her at her birth or the one she adopted for herself when she was just a child. This name is one she will happily kill anyone who threaten the crier of it.

“Excuse me.” She says with a small smile as she leaves the kitchen and walks for her child’s room.

“Mama.” Her baby beams at her from where he is leaning heavily over the top of the railings of his crib.

“Hello my dearest heart.” Bilbo says as she moves forward and lifts him from the confines of his bed and hugs him close to her chest. “Did you sleep well my darling?”

“ ‘es.” His beam grows even wider as he starts to describe his latest sets of dreams to her in toddler’s tongue.

If Bilbo could understand more of the tongue of toddlers she may have found herself being quite disturbed by her son’s dreams but as she could not, she smiled and spoke words of encouragement and praise for his dreams with every pause of breath he took before continuing on with his describing his dreams

Dreams of like which no other hobbit – besides maybe his mother and a few great and long forgotten ancestors before him – would ever have in their life time. Dreams that involve the past and some were even of the future though neither son nor mother realised this.

Neither realised that the dreams that Frodo was describing to his mother were in fact of things that were going to occur in their very near future. Of an event that would tip the very balance of Middle-Earth and would affect them both, deeply and ruthlessly, changing their lives forever.

An event that would rip them both away from the home they loved and throw them into a world where an evil power was slowly creeping back into. An event that would start with a pebble and result in avalanche of like has never been seen before in all of Middle-Earth.

But neither mother or son knew or realised any of this and so were both blissfully ignorant to the trials that the future had install for both of them. Blissfully unaware that change, which was such a rare and uncommon occurrence within the Shire, was just around the corner.

If Bilbo had understood more of what her son was babbling about she would most likely have been deeply afraid and would have tried to send word to Gandalf via any means necessary. But as she could not understand her son’s unique language she felt no reason to fear what she what he spoke to her. Though maybe there was just a hint of tribulation in the very core of her soul, but she ignored it as she got her little one dressed and with him still babbling happily, his wooden dragon clutched close to his chest. She walked back to kitchen with him sitting on her hip, her cousin immediately getting up from the table to greet the little Dwobbit, his female cousins each wanting a turn of holding him while his male cousins proceeded to pull faces and tickle him as he giggled happily.

Bilbo smiled at the scene before her, having absolutely no idea that this peace and contentment she was currently feeling might soon be destroyed. She had no knowledge that fate was not yet finished with her and that it had an even more elaborate destiny in store for her child.

Even the smallest person can change the course of the future.

Chapter Text

The wind was bitterly cold as the storm raged over head and not for the first time Radin son of Runira regretted coming along on this venture. This business truly has nothing to with him and his younger brother Ranon, so why must they be the ones to repay the debt that their foolish and greedy uncle had created?

Because if you don’t, everyone in the family will be in danger, a voice whispers in Radin’s head and he angrily follows the dwarf in front of him.

He has no idea where they are going and he doesn’t like that it is just the two of them, too easy to picked off by bandits or a pack of goblins. He had heard there were more of both appearing all over the country these days and it disturbed and worried him deeply. And with his infamous luck it would be one or the other that would descend upon them.

He wishes and not for the first time that he and his family could be safely tucked away in one of great dwarven strongholds that still exist around Middle-Earth. It needn’t be one as grand as Erebor, the recently reclaimed kingdom of Durin’s line; his family would happily move into one of small strongholds belonging to the Ironfist clans or maybe to the Iron Hills even. But his family are outcasts, traitors even to some and all because of one incredibly stupid ancestor.

Radin wasn’t exactly sure what it was his ancestor actually did to get his whole line labelled as outcasts and traitors, but whatever it was, his stupidity was clearly hereditary or else Radin wouldn’t be in this mess.

Stupid, useless ancestor! Stupid, useless uncle! Radin thought bitterly as he hunched further into his fur coat made from the skins of rabbits. The coat was made for him by his mother and usually did a good job of keeping him warm but on a night such as this one it felt as if he was walking completely naked.

Where were they going?

Radin moaned as the roaring skies above them opened and rain belted down upon them. This was ridiculous! No job, no matter how good the gold was, was worth being drowned over.

Radin muttered angrily under his breath, cursing the weather, the situation he was currently in, his family’s ill luck, his own ill luck when he suddenly bumped into something solid causing him to almost slip down the steep, rocky path he had just climbed up.

“This is place the contact said we’re to meet our business partner.” Radin rubbed his weeping nose as he blinked through gale force wind and pouring rain, trying to see exactly what their “meeting” place looked like. He saw nothing but blackness and it hurt his eyes to look too hard at anything but his feet.

“How can you even tell?” Radin yelled over the rain almost gagging as rain water entered his mouth as he spoke.

“Can’t you smell it?”

“Smell?” Radin yelled down at his feet, “My nose has been doing its best impression of a raging river since this bloody storm hit us. I can’t smell a damn, bloody thing!” he rubbed his running nose in aggravation.

His companion made to no sign he had heard a word Radin had spoken and instead simply stood silently in the pouring rain and gushing wind. If Radin’s nose was doing its best to appear that it was river than his companion’s whole body was doing its best to appear to be made of stone.

Radin continued to rub his nose, his shivers now turning into full body shakes as he searched for a place to sit, hopefully somewhere sheltered from the blasting wind and torrential rain.

He thankfully found himself such a place only a short distance from his stone like employer and settles himself against the rock that was currently giving him shelter from the horrid weather.

Now if only he had some kindling to start a fire, then things would truly be looking up in his favour. But no, all he had in the pack on his back was some spare clothing (wet), a blanket (also wet), his water skin (which is now wet inside and out) and some beef jerky (which is of course wet as well).

He chews on some of the beef jerky as he contemplates just how truly unlucky his family really is and wonders if things could possibly get any worse.

He winces almost immediately after thinking that last thought as he remembered something his old granddad used to say fore he died.

‘Never say ‘things can’t get any worse’, the Gods take it as a personal challenge.’ Was what his old gramps used to say or did he say destiny? Either way, it didn’t matter, what did matter was accepting things as they were and to always expect the unexpected or it might just stab you in the back… like it did with his Uncle Rudon a few years back.

They never did discover which of the drunkard it was who stabbed Rudon in the back after he had apparently won a particularly fishy card game.

Not, Radin reminded himself, that they had tried particularly hard to find out who’d done it. No one was particularly fond of Uncle Rudon. Nor were they of his brother, the one who had landed Radin into this mess to begin with.

Why hadn’t the drunkard who had stabbed Uncle Rudon gone ahead and done them all the big favour and stabbed Uncle Rundan while he was at it? Honestly, it would have done the whole family a great service, killing the two brothers in one go instead of killing just one and leaving the other to continue causing issues and problems that the family had to solve because Rundan had no means to do so himself. And if they didn’t… well, they’d all end up like Uncle Rudon, wouldn’t they? A knife sticking out of their back as they lay face down in an over flowing with garbage and other waste gutter.

No, Radin knew well enough that when it came his time to die he would not die a great war hero by any means but that didn’t mean he wanted to end his life face down in a waste filled gutter. He wanted to do something good with his life, so that when it did come his time to die he would have no regrets only… he had never really had a chance to do anything good with his life.

He mulled once more over his own ill luck when he heard his employer suddenly call out to something or someone over the gale force winds and rains. Radin wasn’t sure how the person, whoever they were, had heard his employer over the storm – or saw him for that matter – but suddenly he saw another dwarf standing with his employer.

“Mongrel, get over here.” his employer belted out and Radin gritted his teeth against both the cold wind and cold fury that curled around in his gut. He should be used to this kind of treatment by now, he really should, but…

Wrapping his arms closely around his torso, Radin moved to stand with the two dwarves, trying not to smirk too hard as he towered over them. A silly thing really to find amusing but he took what he could get when it came to dealing with these types of people.

“Mongrel, this is our contact, Bovin. Bovin this is the mongrel of a lad I told you about, nephew to the fool Rundan.” Radin bit down harder upon his tongue to keep his mouth firmly shut to make sure he didn’t say anything that he would most certainly regret.

“Wasn’t the only fool in the family by the looks of things?” Bovin snorted, “Father or mother?”

“Mother, I believe. Rundan younger sister. Thought she was the only one in that whole damnable family with some brains but,” Radin’s employer looked him up and down through the still torrential weather, “clearly not.”

Radin bit even harder down upon his tongue, tasting the copper taste of blood in his mouth. Thankfully the two dwarves moved on to talking about their business partner.

“He’ll be along soon.” Bovin was saying as they stood beneath the rock that had sheltered Radin earlier.

Radin was once more sitting against it, not really paying as much attention as he probably should have been as to what was being spoken between the two dwarves but he was simply the grunt, the pack donkey.

What point was there in listening to a job? You’ll only find yourself becoming depressed over how much you’re going to be carrying all by yourself. Not to mention the depressing thought of how valuable whatever it is you are carrying. The more valuable the thing on your back is, the more your life is in jeopardy from bandits or goblins.

Though with goblins, Radin supposed it didn’t matter one inch of your life if you had something valuable on your back or not, goblins would kill you all the same.

And let’s not get into the moral qualms about his various jobs. Radin never felt good about carrying stolen goods on his back, but if he raised a word of complaint about it, he’d be out of a job now, wouldn’t he?

He was just starting to doze off when he heard what sounded like a howl. And then another and another.

He jumped to his feet, almost clocking himself on the roof of their rocky shelter, his fingers moving to grasp the large hammer that his gramps had made him before the old man had finally died of shame. Shame of what his two sons had become or shame over his daughter and her children, Radin was never really sure, but hoped with all his heart that his gramps had died from the shame of his uncles and not over the life choices his mother had made.

He held his hammer up high, ignoring the annoyed snorts beside him and peered into the heavy rain, hoping to see the wolves before they were close enough to rip out his throat.

“Oh Mahal…” he whispered as he finally saw exactly what creatures were making the horrible howls. His heart shuddered in fear as he saw what was riding them.

He gripped his hammer all the tighter in his hands for despite his terror and the desire to wet himself he refused to go down without a fight. He refused to make this an easy feed for the evil creatures stalking towards them through the rain and wind.

“My lord.” Bovin cried and Radin felt like gagging when Bovin went down upon his knee, a gesture that was quickly followed by Radin’s employer.

What were they DOING! Had they no pride as full-blooded dwarves? These were orcs and wargs they were bowing to! BOWING!

“Kneel, Mongrel,” Radin’s employer hissed. “Kneel!” Radin yelped as he was yanked bodily to the stone ground, almost breaking his own hand with his own hammer as he tried to catch himself.

He kept his head down, refusing to look at the evil, snarling creatures around him but he refused to let go of his hammer.

He held it tightly and prayed that he would be able to take out a few of the foul creatures before they tortured him to death.

He bit down hard upon his bottom lip, fighting back useless, frighten tears.

He didn’t want to die, especially not at the hands of Orcs. All he had ever wanted was for his family to live comfortably and safe. That was all, nothing else. That was all he had ever wanted, all he had ever prayed to Mahal for.

“You have, information, I believe.” Radin felt his spine stiffen at the sound of a cruel, silky voice speak clearly despite the terrible weather.

Radin lifted his head slowly and blinked through the rain and wind to try and see the speaker more clearly. He soon wished he hadn’t.

At the centre of the warg ridding Orc pack, was a huge, pale orc with frighteningly bright blue eyes that seemed to burn holes into ones very soul.

“Yes, my Lord Bzog,” Bovin cried, “ I have information concerning the Halfling who denied your father, Azog the Defiler, his rightful trophy of the head of Durin’s King and who also helped to bring about your father’s untimely demise.”

“Speak.”

“He-he lives in a place known only as the Shire, in a section that is known as Hob… Hobbiton, I believe, my lord.”

“And where did you get this information from Bovin?” the pale, orc sneered, “As the last time you said you had information about the Halfling it was to only inform me that the wretched creature was indeed dead. A fact that I knew to be quite false for my wargs could smell the wretched scent leaving the battle very much alive. They smelt the scent right up to the trees of Mirkwood before it was lost. The Halfling is alive, this I know. What I want to know is where.”

“The Shire, Hobbiton, my lord. He’s been living there comfortable for the last eleven years.”

“And you know this from where?”

“From the very mouth of the Durin’s King’s nephew, my lord. I heard him and another dwarf, speaking of the place and of the hobbit during the last trading mission between Erebor and Ered Luin.”

“And you are certain that they were speaking of the Halfling I seek?”

“Baggins, sir, they said the Halflings name was Baggins. And I did a little digging, my lord, and have discovered that the only Halfling known to have left the Shire for a grand period of time and returned in the past years goes by the name of Bilbo Baggins. And that was the name I heard mention by the King’s nephew. He is alive, my lord, and living comfortably and…”

“And still in communication with the Durin King.” The foul pale, orc smirked widely as he stroked the head of his white warg, “this is very good, very good indeed. Better than I had ever hoped, in fact. Bring me the Halfling.” He snarled at Bovin, “alive… and unspoilt.”

“Of course, my lord, of course.” Bovin said bowing deeply to the pale orc.

The pale orc sneered at them before shouting something horrible in orcish before he and his terrible pack once more disappeared into the darkness of the storm.

“What are you doing?” Radin all but shrieked once he had found his voice and his feet. “Those are orcs! Our business partners are ORCS!”

“Anyone can be business partners with anyone… as long as they pay the right price.” Bovin replied as he dusted himself down.

“But they’re ORCS!” Radin cried.

“Oh hush it Mongrel, you’re not paid to complain or to speak for that matter. You’re paid for bodily labour and occasional mercenary work that is all. So unless you and your mongrel of a brother want to return to that pitiful family of yours with no money and no way of repaying your uncle’s debt without using your own lives to do so, shut it!”

Radin opened his mouth to protest before falling silent. He didn’t like this; he didn’t like this at all.

Becoming business partners with Orcs? If his mother were here she’d be telling him to forget all about the debt, all about their money problems, they’d figure it out somehow, and that the only thing she wanted him to do right that very moment was to grab his brother and come straight home!

But he couldn’t.

If he did that than his employer and Bovin would tell everyone who might just look the other way when thinking about employing him that he had skipped out on a job simply because it was a bit fishy around the edges and dealing with some disreputable folk, he would never work again and his family would be a good as dead.

No, he had to stick with this job, he had to. Anyway, it might not be so bad, deliver the Halfling, hobbit thing to the pale orc, get paid, go home, that’s it.

Radin frowned, what was a hobbit anyway? Some kind creature? Halfling made it sound like, well, one thing crossed with another, sort of like…. well, him, but he had never been called something as simplistic as Halfling. No he had words like mongrel and half-breed thrown at him.

Lucky sod, only getting called Halfling when he got called all kinds of names under the Sun. But still it made his gut curl at the idea of delivering any kind of creature, Halfling or not, to the pale orc, Bzog was it?

He hoped the Halfling was a truly evil and disreputable little creature itself so that Radin wouldn’t feel any guilt when delivering it to Bzog.

Somehow, deep in his gut, he knew this wouldn’t be the case. It never was, not with him. Nothing was ever simple or harmless or in any way uncomplicated when it came to him. He wasn’t sure if this was due to his mixed human/dwarf blood or because fate simply loved fucking with him, either way Radin son of Runira always seemed to find himself in the worse possible situations to be in and he had feeling that this mess that he was currently in was the worse by far.

Chapter Text

Bilbo was not in a good mood, not one little bit.

“Where are you, you rascal!” She hissed as she moved through the cornfield, her annoyance and motherly fears rising several more notches when she received no reply from her wayward son.

“Frodo Thorin Baggins! Come back here this instant!” She all but yelled. It was growing quite dark and while she knew that she and her child were perfectly safe within the Shire, she had been, for some reason, on edge for almost a week now.

Why she had thought taking a walk with her son through a cornfield was a good idea was beyond her. She knew before they had even entered the field her rascal of a son would pull such a stunt as this and lo and behold he had.

“Frodo!” She jumped when she heard the screeching of birds over head, frowning because this would be the time of day for birds to settle down for the night, not take flight… unless, something had disturbed them.

She swallowed nervously and ploughed on through the cornfield, calling her son and silently begging that he would appear soon so that they could return to the safety of Brandy Hall.

Listen to you; she scolded herself, getting more paranoid with each passing season!

“Frodo! Come here right now! We’re going to be late for dinner, young man!” She came to a fork in the path that she had been walking along in the field and felt a growing sense of dread.

Why wasn’t he responding to her? He wasn’t even in his teens yet and he had already become rebellious. Not in a nasty way that some hobbit youngster could become, but that lad was simply so curious about his world that he wandered off on a wimp and usually did not want to come back simply because his mother was calling him to do so. Oh, his curiosity and wanders-lust was going to get him into all kinds of trouble.

“FRODO THORIN BAGGINS!” She was yelling now and her feet had broken into a run as panic stirred relentlessly within her gut.

Why was she feeling so terrified all of the sudden? Why was she feeling as if something bad was just on the horizon? Why…

She was knocked clean off her feet by something small and solid moving at a tremendous speed. She rolled over on the path so that her wayward child was now sitting on her belly.

“Frodo…” She started to snap but stopped when she looked into her child’s face her heart pounding madly within her ribs. She pushed herself up on to her elbows to get a better look at her child in the fading light.

“Yes Mama?” her son leant in closer and when she blinked her son’s face was peering back at her from his mess of black curls, his brilliant blue eyes wide and apologetic.

“What have I told you about running off on your own, young man?” Bilbo reprimed as she forced her heart to return to its normal speed as she rolled her child off her belly so that he now stood beside her as she pulled herself to her feet and wiped down her clothes.

“Not to?” Her son was kicking the ground with his toes, his head bowed and arms tucked behind his back.

“And what did you do?”

“Ran off on my own.” The boy muttered.

“May I ask why you disobeyed my very clear instructions of not wandering off on one’s own?” Her son shook his head and Bilbo sighed, rubbing her face.

“Let’s just return to Brandy Hall. I’ll think of your punishment when we get home.”

“Yes Mama.” Frodo mumbled and Bilbo sighed again before cuddling her son close, kissing the top of his black curls.

“I just worry about you, so much.” She whispered into his curls, “I love you more than my life. You are my life, darling boy and it scares me when you pull stunts like this.”

“I’m sorry Mama.” Frodo whispered as he hugged her tightly back, “I love you too.”

“I love you most. Now come on, let’s get back to Brandy Hall, they’re all probably wondering where we are.”

Hand in hand mother and son walked back the way they had come through the cornfield.

“Mama?”

“Hmmm?” Bilbo asked as she breathed a deep sigh of relief as they exited the cornfield and could see the lights of Brandy Hall in the distance.

“Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?”

“What?” Bilbo forgot her relief as she looked down at her son sharply. The lad blushed and looked uncomfortable. Bilbo forced herself to become calm before asking, “Why do you ask, darling boy?”

“I don’t know,” the boy shrugged, “it’s just a feeling that I get sometimes, that someone is watching me. It makes the hair on my feet and on the back of my neck stand up straight.”

Bilbo swallowed as her son described the exact same feelings that she had been feeling for the past week.

“It’s nothing darling.” Bilbo lied, though was she actually lying when she herself wasn’t sure if it were true?

Hobbits weren’t known to get feeling such as the ones her son and herself were experiencing. Yes, there were some who could tell when it was going to rain due to a prickly sensation in their feet hairs, but no hobbit that Bilbo knew of received feelings such as these.

“It’s nothing.” She says again and forces herself to smile down at her son, “but how bout until these feelings go away completely, you keep close to me and not,” her son started to blush once more as he predicted inside his head of what she was going to say next, “wander off.”

“Yes Mama.”

“A lot of “Yes Mama’s” today, how bout actually doing what you’re promising to do, hmmm?” she nudged her son playfully causing him to giggle.

“Race you to the front door.” He yelled, letting go of her hand and taking off at a sprint towards the front door of Brandy Hall.

“You little cheat!” Bilbo cried laughing, breaking into a sprint herself. Her son squealed as she caught up to him, snagging him in her arms and placing kisses all over his face.

“MAMA! Let go!” he giggled and squirmed in her arms, trying his best to escape her embrace.

“Never!” Bilbo laughed and with her son still trapped against her, she walked them both through the front door of Brandy Hall much to the amusement of relatives who were standing by it, curious to see what all the commotions was outside.

Bilbo simply grinned widely at her Brandybuck relatives, still holding her prize close to her chest as she marched him to the closest washrooms to wash the dirt from his grubby paws.

 * * *

Bilbo had always loved parties that were hosted by either one of her Took or Brandybuck relatives. A love that she had clearly passed on to her son, whom was laughing and dancing around with his many, many cousins from both Took and Brandybuck clans in the middle of the parties dance floor which was really on a large area of grass that was surrounded by tables and benches just outside of Brandyhall.

“Frodo seems to be enjoying himself.” Bilbo looked around to smile at Eglantine Took nee Banks who had her latest addition to her family curled up in her arms.

“That he is.” Bilbo beamed moving over on the bench she was sitting on at the edge of the dancing ring to allow the new mother of now three beautiful daughters to sit down beside her.

The two mothers smiled as they saw their children, Eglantine’s eldest daughter and Frodo, dancing together. Frodo was taking great care to keep the little girl safe from the more robust moves of older cousins.

“He’s very good with them, the little ones.” Eglantine compliment as she settled her newborn daughter into a more comfortable position in her arms.

“He is. I’m very proud of him for being such a loving and patient older cousin.” Bilbo said fondly, a motherly smile gracing her lips.

“Takes after his mother there, I do believe,” Eglantine smiled and Bilbo blushed beneath her freckles.

“Yes, I suppose he does. I’ve always gotten on better with my younger cousins, but I’m sure your husband can tell you all about that.” Bilbo replied with a small smile.

“He does.” Eglantine agreed, “He tells me that some of his best childhood memories are of the days spent with you and Saradoc.”

Bilbo shook her head laughing softly, smiling as she saw Saradoc son and currently only child run up to play with Frodo and Eglantine eldest daughter.

“I was so hoping that this little one would be a boy.” Eglantine admitted softly, “I know how much Paladin and Saradoc hoped that they would have sons who would have the same friendship as they have.”

“Eglantine,” Bilbo said with a small laugh, “you are barely forty! You have a long time yet to give dear Paladin a son. Young Merry is barely more than a toddler, so there is no rush. Enjoy the time you have with your children, for each one is a blessing in themselves.”

Eglantine smiled widely at Bilbo.

“You are very good at speaking exactly what one needs to hear. And you are right, I am still young yet and plenty of time to give Paladin the son and heir that he desires. Not,” Eglantine added with a wide smile, “that he isn’t delighted with our girls. I’ve never seen a man so wrapped around a six year old pinky, but dear Pearl, she only has to ask and Paladin will do everything in his power to give it to her.” Eglantine laughed. “Same goes Pimpernal and, of course, little Pervinca here.” the new mother smiled softly down at the sleeping babe in her arms and Bilbo felt the familiar itch she got whenever she was around a baby.

She crossed her arms across her chest, trying to fight the irritating itch of longing and to not think how she would never hold another baby of her very own ever again.

“Would you like to hold her?” Eglantine asked and Bilbo feared that the hobbit lass had read her thoughts. Though if she really had read Bilbo’s mind, Bilbo very much doubted that dear, sweet Eglantine would want her holding her child at all.

Say no, say no, her brain hissed at her furiously, say no, say no! Save yourself the heartache.

But in most matters involving young children, Bilbo’s heart overrode her logical brain and her arms were moving without her mind’s consent as she took the babe from her mother.

“I’ll be back in just a moment.” Eglantine promised before she disappeared amongst the party-goers.

Bilbo stared transfixed at the child in her arms, her heart thudding madly in her chest. It was silly, how worked up she got whenever she held a baby but it had been such a long time – or at least it felt like such a long time since she had held her boy like this – and she couldn’t help but long for another child whenever she was near or had a baby in her arms. But of course another child of her very own would be impossible. The only way she would get another child running around her home in Bag End were if she was to adopt or foster one, as an unmarried mother, even with her more laid-back relatives fostering a child was very much out of the question and she had no close relatives with young children who were on their death beds. And even if she did, those children would never be allowed to be adopted by her.

She sighed heavily and forced those thoughts out of her head and instead simply enjoyed the feeling of holding a baby once more in her arms.

She was such a pretty little girl. Bilbo could see already that she would be taking after her Took of a father, much like her elder sisters did.

I wonder what our daughter would have looked like Thorin, if we had had the chance to make her. Would she take after you, like Frodo certainly has or would she be more like me? Either way, she would have been beautiful, the gem of your eye, I am sure.

Bilbo closed her eyes, fighting back infuriating tears.

Now why had she gone and thought that?!

She shook her head, forcing the thoughts and worse the images that the thoughts had conjured within her mind out or at least to far regions of her mind where she now stuck most of her thoughts about him and what she – they had lost.

She could not… would not think of such things, her heart shards could simply not bear to think of such things or they might just break what little remained of them.

“Mama?”

“Hello my heart. Having fun?” She smiled as she opened her eyes to see not just her son but Eglantine eldest daughter and Saradoc only son standing by him, their little heads tilted upwards to look at her.

Her son hopped onto the bench beside her and looked down at the baby in her arms.

“She is very small.” Frodo commented, wiggling a finger in the palm of the sleeping baby’s. He smiled when the baby’s fingers closed around it.

“You were once this small.” Bilbo told him smiling fondly at the memory of her darling boy being so small that she could carry him in one arm if she wished.

“As were you two.” She added to the giggling youngsters.

“Was not!” Saradoc son complained before grinning teasingly at his cousin, “Pearl was though. She was as small a squirrel!”

“Was not!” Pearl said with a stamp of her tiny foot angrily, her tiny face scrunching up with the threat of thunderous tears, “Don’t lie Merry! Lying is bad!”

Merry grinned at Frodo who was giggling quietly behind his hand

“Merry don’t wind up your little cousin.” Bilbo reprimed the little boy gently, who blushed and nodded.

“Now why aren’t you lot all dancing and playing?” Bilbo asked cheerfully, “it’s a party; you should all be out having fun, not hanging about boring old me.”

“You’re not boring Mama. Or old.” Frodo said so firmly he caused her to laugh as he reminded her of Kili during the few moments she had seen the dwarf lad looking serious about anything.

“Will you be telling us a story soon, Auntie Bilbo?” Merry asked his grey eyes wide and hopeful.

“Maybe.” Bilbo laughed ruffling the six year old curly brown hair.

“What are you lot doing?” twin voices asked and Bilbo winced at the unison shrieks of “Papa!” as Merry and Pearl flew at their respective fathers, easily being swung up into the arms of their papas.

Bilbo felt a sting in heart as she watched her favourite male cousins play with their children, her eyes flickering to her own child who had suddenly become very intent with playing with the little hands of tiny Pervinca.

This was one of the many problems of bringing Frodo to family gathering. He saw just how different he was from other youngsters his age. He had no father and he had no idea why.

Bilbo wished all the harder that her four dwarves could come and visit her and Frodo more often than they did. When her dwarves were visiting Frodo seemed to notice less the absence of a father figure, not when he had four uncles dotting upon him.

He never questioned her on why he had no father, but she knew he must wonder. How could he not? For a child as young as he was, he had an intelligent and inquisitive mind; of course the thought had come to him, plagued him even.

Bilbo felt guilt gnaw away at her gut. She wanted to protect her child, not cause him even more harm.

She ran her fingers through his dark curls, smiling softly as he curled his body up against hers. They stayed like this long after Eglantine had returned for her child and she, her husband, his best friend and their children had moved off to enjoy the celebrations, leaving mother and son to enjoy their time together.

 * * *

“Mama?”

Bilbo opened her eyes to the darkness of the guest room that she and Frodo were staying in for the duration of their stay in Brandy Hall.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

There was a short pause and Bilbo wondered if Frodo had simply called out her name simply to make sure that she was still there in the unfamiliar room with him.

“Mama, why don’t I have a papa like everyone else?”

Bilbo’s heart sank. Even though she knew her bright little lad had wondered why he no father in his life, she had hoped to wait until he’s late teens, early tweens even before he started asking her questions about it.

Which is hardly fair, a voice that sounded very much like her mother retorted tartly. You are simply being a coward and it was wrong of you to leave him wondering for so long.

It was, of course, very wrong of her indeed. But it hurt to even think about Thorin, let alone try and talk about him to the son he didn’t even know he had.

“You do have one dearest one.” She spoke slowly and carefully, feeling the hole in her chest start to rip open a little.

“Then where is he?”

“Far away.”

“Dead?” Bilbo bit down upon her bottom lip hard at the thought of Thorin being dead. It was an unbearable thought.

“No, not dead. Just far away.”

“Why? Doesn’t he want us?”

Oh, sweetheart, Bilbo moaned silently, feeling tears prick behind her eyes, you he will want with all his heart. It is me who he cast from his side forever and has banished from ever seeing him again on pains of death.

“Mama?”

“No, that’s not it, darling.”

“Then why isn’t he here, with us?” Frodo demanded his young voice angry.

“He can’t be sweetheart. He has duties and responsibilities that must come before us. He can’t help that he can’t be with us.”

“What duties? What responsibilities? To who? And why are they more important than us? His family!” her little lad demanded frustration and hurt laced thickly in his young voice.

“His people, dear one.” Bilbo sighed softly. “When you are older you will understand everything. When you are older you can go and meet him.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“What?” Bilbo felt her heart shards constrict at her son’s words.

“What if I don’t want to meet him, my father? And why should I? Why should I when he thinks of his duty and responsibility above those who are his family.”

“Oh Frodo.” Bilbo whispered as she blinked back tears in the dark, “I wish I could make you belief that your father is so much more than that and that he would put you above his duty and responsibility in a heartbeat.” If he only knew about you…

“Then why doesn’t he?” Frodo grumbled before exclaiming, “And what about you, Mama? He has to put you above his duty and responsibility too.”

“He might have, once, but now…” Bilbo shook her head. Her son was still far too young to know everything about his unusual family situation. “Please, dearest heart, know that when you and your father meet he will love you with all his heart. Just give him the chance to do so… please, for me?” Her request was met with silence and it made her heart shards wring and twist in pain.

She heard movement from the bed opposite hers and then a small body sliding underneath the covers of her own bed.

She wrapped her arms around her tiny son, tucking his head beneath her chin.

“How do you know, Mama?” Frodo asked in a small voice as he wrapped his arms around her neck, “How do you know he’ll love me? What if he does not?”

“Than your uncles will beat him stupid.” Bilbo replied sounding far more aggressive then she means to.

Frodo giggles at the thought of his usually quite friendly and gentle uncles beating anyone stupid before whispering

“They know my father?”

“Very well in fact.” Bilbo assured her son, “and they will be with you when you are to meet him. As will Gandalf.”

“Gandy, really?” the boy sounded brighter for a moment before his voice grew quiet and unsure once more, “but what about you, Mama? Won’t you be with me too when I go to meet him?”

“I – I,” Bilbo bit down upon her bottom lip, trying to think up a reason as to why she would not be with him when he finally met his father. Maybe when he was older she would tell him of her banishment but right now… “Of course I will be dear heart. We’ll all go and meet your father together.”

“Like one big family.” Frodo mumbled softly a wistful note to his voice as he yawned loudly.

“Yes, one big family.” Bilbo muttered as Frodo curled up against her chest and fell quickly into a deep sleep while his mother lay awake stewing over her life and what a mess it was still in.

Bilbo threw an arm over her eyes and tried to sleep and not dream of grand halls filled with treasure, of a dragon hissing cruel words that made her doubt her king’s love for her, and of a King who broke her in so many ways that it was miracle that she had continued on living.

Only for her son. Only for their son.

Chapter Text

Radin looked upon the rolling green hills covered in vibrant coloured flowers and at the wide meadows and fields. This place was beautiful, breath-taking even. His mother and sisters would love it here.

"Beautiful place." He said to his brother on the horse beside him, "Mama would love it here."

"Aye," His younger brother said as he shifted unhappily in his saddle, "she would."

"When you two mongrels are done admiring the view…" Bovin voice snapped at them from where the rest of their party were moving down the brilliant green hill. Radin watched as Ranon face twisted in anger and quickly placed a hand upon his younger brother's arm.

"Calm yourself, little brother. Now is not the time."

"Whenever will it be?" Ranon growled before turning his horse to follow the rest of their party.

"I don't know," Radin sighed to himself, coaxing his own horse to follow after his brother's, "I really don't."

Radin found it very hard not to laugh when he realised the Bovin had gotten them quite utterly lost in this beautiful green land. Not that he minded one bit, this place was truly beautiful and he could happily be lost in this place for days, weeks even.

"We could always ask for direction." Ranon muttered from beside him causing Radin to snort.

"As if Bovin would ever lower himself to that level. Remember dwarves have stubbornness issues."

Ranon sniggered and grinned widely back at him, causing Radin's heart to warm with pleasure at seeing his little brother so carefree and happy. This place seemed to be healing his younger brother of all hurt and anger.

They rode on over the green hills, not seeing or hearing any life besides from the singing of birds and rustling of small furry creatures running through the rich, green grass.

"Where is everyone?" Ranon asked looking around him, his face filled with bewilderment. Both he and Radin had grown up in a bustling town and so were unused to the quiet of the country, even with all the years of travelling the wildness behind them.

"Don't know." Radin said with a shrug, "maybe these Halflings don't exist."

"Hush you two," Bovin snapped back the two brothers. "The Halflings do exist."

"May haps they do," one of the dwarves, one with a thick black beard and missing his right eye commented, "but may haps they live 'ere no more."

"Are you doubting my information, Divil son Diror?" Bolan snarled and the dwarf hunch down into his saddle.

"No sir, of cose not sir. I was jus' saying may haps the Halflings don't live 'ere no more, is all." Divil muttered.

Bovin glared at his company of dwarves and two mongrels.

"Listen to me, all of you. When I say that we're in the right place and that these Halflings exist, then they..."

"Have you ever seen one, Master Bovin." Ranon interrupted Bovin and Radin fought back a sigh.

Bovin scowled at Ranon.

"I have not. But I do not doubt of their existence but you, yourself, are very welcome to return to Lord Bzog and tell him of you doubt of the existence of the creatures that brought about the death of his father, Azog the Defiler and his great warg. Would you like that, mongrel? To meet Lord Bzog in person?"

Ranon opened his mouth to retort but stopped when Radin elbowed him hard in the ribs. His brother glared at him for a moment before ducking his head, muttering under his breath.

"What was that Mongrel?" Bovin growled.

"I said 'no sir', sir." Ranon snapped, his fists turning white as they tighten on the reins of his horse.

"Good mongrel. Now keep that mouth of yours shut or I'll muzzle you." Bovin sneered before kicking his pony onwards down the path.

Ranon's glared at his back while Radin sighed as he watched some of his brother's old fury creep back into his face.

"Come on, little brother. Let it go, enjoy the scenery." Radin begged quietly. His brother grunted under his breath before spurring his horse on.

They rode onwards for another hour before they came across the first sign of intellectual life. A windmill, smaller than any windmill Radin had ever seen before was standing in a field of wheat. It was painted white with a thatch roof, its sails moving slowly around in gentle circles in the breeze.

"Maybe here would be a good place to ask for directions." A dwarf with a heavy yellow beard commented to Bovin who let out an aggravated growl.

"Fine, see if you can't…"

"Who ya then?"

Radin almost fell out of his saddle at the high-pitch voice speaking seemingly out of nowhere, near to the ground. On a second look about, Radin and the rest of his company all saw the speaker, leaning upon a spade and looking up at them with a frown.

"That's – that's a Halfling?" Ranon whispered his eyes wide with shock and confusion as he took in the little creature.

"I guess so." Radin replied as he also stared at the odd little creature in question.

The little creature would barely reach the top of his waist and maybe only up the shoulders of one of his dwarf companions. It had a head of thick curly brown hair with two pointy ears sticking out from the sides of his head. He – and Radin was only guessing that the creature was male, for he lacked any hint of a beard - was stocky and round of middle. But truly the oddest feature about the tiny creature was his feet, which were bare and quite large in comparison to his height, with thick brown curls covering the top of them.

"I asked who ya were? Ya realise ya trespassing, docha?" the little creature snapped up at them in its high-pitch voice, it brown and chubby face crumbled in annoyance.

"We're very sorry for the trespassing upon your land," Bovin replied silkily, "but you see, we are quite lost."

"I'll say," The creature snorted, "we're pretty far off from every which way 'ere. Where ya heading?"

"Hobbiton, my fine sir, to visit an old friend of mine?"

"That old friend of ya's wouldn't be mad ol'Baggins, would it?"

"Ah, yes, I do believe it would be." Bovin said looking maybe a tad taken aback by the bluntness and wily-nilly nature in the way the creature simply gave away crucial information for their mission.

The creature shook his head in disbelief, before giving a sigh.

"Go back the way ya came, back to the fork in tha road ya came to, go left stead of right, that'll take you through to Bywater and from there to Hobbiton. With ya beasts, you should get there by tomorrow eve."

"I thank you kind sir," Bovin replied with a wide grin that quite terrified Radin and for a dreadful moment, as he watch Bovin reach into his jerkin, he feared for the Halflings life, fearing that Bovin was drawing a dagger. But Radin let a small sigh of relief pass his lips as Bovin merely flipped a coin at the Halfling who caught it with a mixed expression of surprise and intrigue.

"Alright men, you heard the good fellow." Bovin barked and his dwarves turned their ponies head's back in the direction they had come.

Just as Radin was about to do the same with his horse he heard the strange little creature, after watching it in amusement as it took a questioning nip of the gold coin Bovin had flipped him, muttered under its breath. "More dwarves invading Bag End. Wait til Master Sackville-Baggins hears about this." before the strange little fellow stomped off back towards his mill, disappearing almost immediately into his wheat field.

"Why do I have a feeling Bovin is going to regret not killing that Halfling?" Ranon whispered causing Radin to smack him hard over the back of his head.

"Watch your tongue, why would you think such a thing?"

"Didn't you hear the Halfling? He said he was going to tell his Master of our meeting and that we're on our way to see this Baggins fellow. First rules of kidnapping, you make sure no one knows it was you who done it. You leave no evidence that will lead back to you. And if you do, you kill whoever has seen you."

"RANON!" Radin snarled, "What would you know about kidnapping? That isn't – that's not, I mean…"

"Yes dear brother? What is this then?" Ranon asked in a sickeningly sweetly tone, a mimic of Bovin's tone moments before.

"Shut it Ranon." Radin snapped as he kicked his horse into a trot.

"I'm just saying…"

"I know what you're saying Ranon and I don't like it, so shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you. I hate this job enough as it is without you saying foul things like murdering innocent people and so on."

His younger brother fell thankfully silent while Radin sat in his saddle quietly fuming.

Terrifyingly he could see the sense in his brother's words, could see how dangerous it could potentially be to leave the Halfling alive to speak to his master or anyone about their visit to his mill but when he had joked with Ranon about asking a Halfling for directions the thought of having to murder them to keep them silent had never crossed his mind and it disturbed him greatly that it had crossed his younger brother's mind.

What was he going to do? What was he going to do?

He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be a part of any of this. He just wanted to have his family's freedom restored to them and be able to live their lives in peace and relative comfort.

Would they never be free? Would they never be safe? Would he and Ranon have to continue on with this kind of work to ensure their families freedom and safety?

Radin didn't know and in truth, his heart didn't want to know.

Clucking his tongue, he allowed for his horse to break into a gallop, allowing the wind to blow in his hair, he felt almost as if he was free, just for a moment, he was free.

Chapter Text

Bilbo carefully stretched her arms above her head before she gently rubbed the nose of the pony she had ridden upon to and from Brandy Hall.

"Good boy. Good boy Spirit." She whispered softly as she pressed her lips to the pony's velvety nose. She smiled softly before moving around to Spirit's side, reaching up to help Frodo slide down from the pony's back. Her son slipped easily into her arms before he too went to give Spirit's nose a pat as well as an apple that he had at some point snuck into his pocket, obviously waiting for a moment to slip it to the pony.

Bilbo ruffled his hair before turning her companions.

"Thank you, you two for escorting us back home safely." She said to Saradoc and Paladin as they walked over to her once they were done talking with Hobbiton's stable master. "Would you like to come up to Bag End, stay the night and return home in the morning?" she added causing her two cousins to grin.

"Hoping you would ask something like that." Paladin stretched his arms above his head, "been awhile since we've had some of your lovely cooking." He added and Bilbo rolled her eyes, though inwardly she was pleased. She had grown used to loudness and being surrendered by multiple relatives all at one time during hers and Frodo's two week stay at Brandy Hall.

"You don't visit us nearly enough," Saradoc had informed her when he had come to Bag End to invite her and Frodo to come and stay at Brandy Hall and visit her Brandybuck cousins. And a lot of her Took cousins too, she quickly discovered upon arriving, for the many Tooks, upon hearing of her being in Brandy Hall had taken it upon themselves to visit. They had thrown a great party for her and Frodo two days before they were meant to return home to Hobbiton.

Bilbo wasn't sure if the farewell party was fully intended to be seen as a farewell party or rather as an invitation for her to stay permanently with her Brandybuck relatives.

They and her Took relatives knew or at least could see, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, how dreadfully unhappy she, and Frodo as well to a lesser extent, were living in Hobbiton.

It wasn't the gossip, for she had put a stop to that a few years back when she threaten to have Lobelia Sackville-Baggins ostracize if she didn't keep her big and wicked mouth shut, that made her life in Hobbiton unhappy.

It was nothing in particular that made her unhappy, nothing but the constant feeling of danger, of trepidation and the feeling that an adventure was waiting to snatch her up at every bend in the road.

This is no one else fault but your own Billanna Baggins, she thought as she took hold of her son's hand and with her cousins walking behind her, allowing for her to lead the way for Bagshot Row and Bag End.

You were the one who stepped out your front door; you were the one who allowed yourself to be swept up into a world of adventure and danger. You were the one who stepped out upon the road, who took those first few steps and before you knew it, you were swept into something that was so above your silly little head that you are now so completely ruined that you are paranoid over everything.

Bilbo shook her head, shrugging her pack more comfortably onto her shoulders and together the four hobbits walked up Bagshot Row.

Her father along with the Gamgees family welcome them back with opened arms and wide, beaming smiles.

The warmth Bilbo felt during these moments helped to combat the still gnawing fear within her gut. Her fingers felt less inclined to inch for her magic ring tucked safely away in her vest pocket where she had once more taken to carrying it when before in her early days of returning to the Shire she had locked it away in a trunk with what few possessions had returned with her from her adventure. But upon discovering that her lad had learnt to pick the locks and she had caught in red handed in the act of trying to pick the lock of that particular truck – and she had fairly good idea as to who it was who had taught her son that particular skill and she was going to be give him such an earful the next time she saw him – she had removed the ring, which had returned to safe keeping over her waistcoat pocket. Her little sword Sting now sat in a corner of her private study and her mithril coat was tucked safely away in her wardrobe, far out reach of little hands as well as the hands of the one who placed it there.

Bell Gamgee and her daughters had cooked up a splendid meal for the return of Bilbo and Frodo, which was much appreciated as Bilbo had felt less than inclined to cook after a day of riding and her cousins weren't complaining from the lack of her cooking. Any good cooking was good enough for them.

Bilbo was pleased to see that Frodo had brighten some since their return to Bag End as he was speaking animatedly with young Samwise, who was such a nice and sensible lad that Bilbo was grateful her son had found a true and loyal friend in him.

Frodo did not have many friends in Hobbiton. He was well liked among his Took and Brandybuck cousins, but even without the nasty rumours running about these days, the parents of Hobbiton still kept their children well away from Mad ol'Baggins's lad.

Luckily for Frodo though, Sam Gamgee and his sibling were a loyal and true bunch and stuck by his side so that he never felt lonely even though now other hobbit children refused to play with them as well.

It hurt Bilbo deep within her heart and as much as she hated the thought of leaving Bag End she was seriously starting to consider moving somewhere close by to either Buckland or Tuckborough. She didn't believe her father would complain overly much and the change of scenery might do him some good. She would miss the Gamgees of course, but knowing them as she did, she wouldn't be all that surprised if they moved to wherever it was she ended up living. They were a funny, loyal sort of family and Bilbo was grateful to have them a part of her life.

So smiling, she allowed herself to be drawn into the warm folds as Bell and her daughters bustled around her kitchen as if it was their very own. They were around often enough that it might as well be, Bilbo thought with a grin.

Her father was settled comfortably in his chair side by side with dear old Roper both puffing away on their pipes, chatting merrily about their younger days and how times had changed since then. Personally Bilbo felt there had been very little change from their younger days to the days that were currently passing them by.

But she made no comment and continued to simply allow herself to be wrapped up in the warmth of friendly company, enjoying having her son being happy when he had been so quiet, almost sullen during his last day at Brandy Hall and on their return trip home.

The pain of not knowing his father had passed for now and for the moment he was once more than content with his lot in life. Bilbo wasn't sure for how long but for now as long as he was content and happy, so was she.

* * *

Billanna wasn't at all surprised when her two cousins didn't leave straight after second breakfast the next day but instead hung around Bag End well after lunch admiring her various maps and books. If they hadn't been interested in such things when they visited her as young – younger – hobbits Bilbo may have been suspicious of the two of them but as it was, she was simply pleased they were still interested in her maps and books. Saradoc in particular.

He had always had a brain that was good a calculating and planning ahead. And Paladin, Bilbo was sure with time, would be much the same. Both hobbit fellows, with time would make their respective fathers and families proud for when the time came for them to take the titles of Thain and Master of Brandy Hall.

Though, Bilbo thought with a small, amused smile as she watched the two hobbit's break into a rather childish argument over one of her maps, the two of them still had plenty of growing up, to do still.

She shook her head at the two hobbit men before she started to wonder where her little lad had run off to now.

She hadn't seen her son since lunch and he hadn't appeared for afternoon tea and though she wasn't quite worried about him yet, it was starting to grow dark outside and she would like to have some knowledge as to where her son was before night fully fell.

But before she could investigate any further as to where her mischievous lad might have disappeared off to there was a loud knock on her front door.

She frowned.

She hadn't been expecting visitors this late in afternoon and none of her neighbours, say the Gamgees, ever knocked so loudly or heavily.

She opened her front door and immediately found herself fighting back a groan as she did so.

"Good evening, Lotho, how may I help you?" Bilbo asked with an exasperated manner. She knew she was being quite rude but since Ruby Baggins tea party seven years ago she had all but refused to speak to a Sackville-Baggins any further than the necessary pleasantries.

Lotho Sackville-Baggins would have been a rather handsome looking hobbit if it weren't for the fact that he always looked as if he had something unpleasant stuck right up under his nose. Bilbo supposed this unfortunate expression might have been caused by her and her breaking of his nose when they were in their young tweens, but given that his personality was just as nasty then as it was now, Bilbo hoped it had simply been the wind and it had changed his face to suit his horrid character.

He sneered down at her, something that she hated greatly, and stuck his thumbs into his expensive yellow waistcoat pockets beneath his brilliant emer – grass green coat.

"I honestly do not know how you live with yourself." He said without any of the necessary pleasantries.

"And I can honestly say I wonder the same thing about you Lotho Sackville-Baggins." Bilbo replied tartly, desperately wanting to slam her front door in his face, maybe even break his nose again but much to her growing aggravation the damnable hobbit strode into her front foyer as if it were his very own. And the way he looked at it made it seem as if it was. He said as much with his next sentence.

"Should have been mine, all mine." He shot a nasty look back at where she still stood by her front door, glaring back at him.

"Well, it isn't. So please, if that is all, please leave."

"No that is not all, so no, I will not leave what should have been rightfully mine."

"Someone's a sourpuss." Bilbo sighed heavily. She had hoped the two of them would have the sense to stay well out of this. But no, there they both stood in the entrance of her front foyer, smirking widely at Lotho.

"Sounds almost as if he feels rejected but correct me if I'm wrong Saradoc my dear fellow, but to be rejected you must first feel love. And I don't believe there was any love on Mr Sackville-Baggins part."

"Nor on our dear Aunt Billanna." Saradoc agreed as he and Paladin crossed their arms across their chests.

"So why does he feel rejection? Not because," Paladin gave a theatrical gasp and looked at Saradoc with wide eyes, "he wouldn't be so vain as to feel that the loss of owning this fine and beautiful hobbit-hole was far more potent than never having Aunt Billanna's love to begin with."

"You know, Paladin my old friend, I do believe that is very much the case." The two hobbit men grinned mischievously back at the red eared Lotho. Lotho opened his mouth as if to make some retort in return only to be stopped by the sudden appearances of Bilbo's father.

"What-what are you two mischievous – mischievous youngsters doing here… still.?" Bungo Baggins grumbled as he hobbled slowly out into the front foyer. "Don't – don't you have families of your – your own to annoy now" He glared wearily at his daughter's cousins before noticing that there was yet another relative invading his house, this time one on his own family's side.

"What-what are you doing here, nephew?" Bungo frowned at Lotho whose ears had turn an even brighter shade of red colour.

"Visiting, Uncle Bungo." Lotho replied stiffly causing Bungo to snort. He had once been fooled into thinking that his nephew's son was a good and well-meaning fellow who suffered just like everyone else in Hobbiton from that mother of his. But he slowly – too slowly, for maybe if he had seen it faster, his daughter wouldn't have run off with her dwarves, to come back almost a year later with a broken heart and swollen belly – he had seen Lotho for who he truly was.

As nasty of temper and wicked of tongue as his mother, he was by no means a suitable match for his daughter and Bungo was happy to allow for his daughter, if things should occur in the future how she hoped they would, to make Frosco and Ruby Baggins's children the heirs to Bag End.

He listened without hearing his nephew's son flounder about for an excuse for his unexpected (and unwelcome) visit this late in the evening. His daughter and her two cousins watch on with a great deal of amusement, clearly taking more delight than they really should of in the hobbit's discomfort.

Bilbo could quite happily start laughing at how easily her father could make Lotho Sackville-Baggins flounder with only a few words. And she would have most likely have done so if she hadn't heard what sounded like the neighing of a horse.

A horse?

There were no horses in Hobbiton, maybe in some of Farthings but no, not in Hobbiton, there was no need for them.

Had she really heard a horse? No, she was sure she had.

With a frown starting to form between her brow, she walked away from her front door (which she had closed upon the appearances of her father) and her father and their visitors and down the long corridor leading to the almost redundant backdoor of the hobbit-hole.

The back door was rarely ever used, hence why it had become redundant. It opened out to the back of the hill that was nothing more than a grassy slope. No one built their hobbit-holes on this side of the hill for there was very little to look at, preferring to have their view to overlooking Bagshot Row and Hobbiton beyond, not fields and woodlands.

Bilbo's fingers were itching once more towards her magic ring when she reached her backdoor.

It's only a lost horse, silly, she chided herself crossly, but her heart was pounding within her chest for reasons she could not fathom. She hadn't felt this worked up since, well, since her horrid adventure.

Bracing herself, she wrenched the old and ill-used door open and peered out. No horse in sight or anything else really, as it was growing quite dark.

She swallowed deeply and shook her head at her own silliness before moving to close the door once more.

"Excuse me, miss." Bilbo's whole body stiffen and her heart nearly jumped from her chest but she congratulated herself for not screaming.

She glared out into the dim evening light and quickly spotted the speaker and discover, even though she knew the moment he spoke, that that was no Hobbit moving towards her.

What was a dwarf doing here?

"Yes?" she asked stiff, making sure her back door was placed firmly between herself and the approaching dwarf, his thick beard was black and heavily braided but Bilbo saw no silver or gold weaved into it, so he was of no royal blood nor was he solider if she was remembering Balin and Dwalin teaching correctly.

The dwarf bowed to her but not nearly so deeply as any of her dwarves had done when they were first meeting her. Even Thorin's bow had been deeper than this strange dwarf. She didn't like him one bit, he had a nasty glint to his eyes and even though he was holding his coat close to his chest, she had seen his many, many weapons.

"Good evening, Halfling Mistress, I am Bovin." Halfling? Bilbo forced herself not wrinkle her nose before noticing another difference between this dwarf and her own. He hadn't offered her his service. She shrank further back around her backdoor.

"Please," the dwarf, Bovin, said taking a step forward, his voice becoming silkier, "please, don't be afraid Halfling maiden, I merely wish to ask you a question and then I will be gone." He pressed a hand to his heart but Bilbo was sure he was lying. She wished desperately that she had her little blade with her.

"Alright," she said sticking her chin out, reminding herself that she had face goblins, spiders and a Dragon for goodness sake so she should not be afraid of this strange and dangerous dwarf. Cautious, yes. But afraid? No. "what is it that you wish to ask?"

"I am looking for someone; I'm hoping you might know where he is?"

"Looking for someone?" Bilbo frowned while her heart thumped madly against her rips, "in the Shire. Why would a dwarf be looking for someone in the Shire?"

The dwarf chuckled.

"Yes, I do know that it is strange, but this is a very special case. I'm looking for a Bilbo Baggins. I was informed that he lived at Bag End at the very top of Bagshot Row."

"Who-who told you that?" Bilbo whispered panic thick in her voice.

"No one of conscious." The dwarf replied as he watched her closely and Bilbo forced her face to become neutral.

"Well they told you wrong, now please you said once I had answered your question you would…"

"Bilbo? Bilbo where are you?"

Bilbo was going to kill her cousin, though she might end up being killed first herself.

She could only let out a small squeal as she and her door were shoved roughly against the round wall as the strange dwarf came striding into her home.

"Get-get out!" Bilbo wheezed, completely winded and her head throbbing from where she had hit it against the wall of her hobbit-hole.

"You lied to me little one." The dwarf said softly as he swung her to her feet, his fingers biting into her arm, "understandably I suppose. Who are you Halfling? His wife? Daughter? Mistress maybe?"

Bilbo squirmed against his iron grip on her arm, stupid tears causing her voice to fail her as her cousins and father came to see what all the commotion was about.

"Oi Ruffian, get your hands off our Aunt!" Paladin snapped furiously.

"Tell me where Bilbo Baggins is and I'll happily let go of your aunt." Bovin replied almost civilly.

"Ah…" Came the responses from Bilbo's father and two cousins. Bilbo begged with her eyes for them to remain silent only, not every one of them got the message.

"What are you talking about, you Ruffian," Lotho snorted with distaste, "you're holding Bilbo Baggins. See Billanna, this is what happens when you consort with other races. This was why I came over this evening, to inform you that this – this dwarf and his troupe came trespassing upon our, our Sackville-Baggins lands asking for you, you! We will not tolerate it!"

"You are Bilbo Baggins." Bovin said as he looked down at her ignoring the rest of her cousin's rant while Bilbo herself wanted to kill him in the slowest, possible way she could think of.

"Yes, what of it?" she snapped as she wrenched her arm finally free of his grip, "who wants me and why?"

"You're female?" Bovin seemed to be having a hard time understanding this small detail about her.

"Obviously." Came Paladin unhelpful snort.

"Paladin for once in your life, shut up." Bilbo snapped at him before turning her attention on to Bovin.

"Mister Bovin, I'll ask you again, who wants me and why?"

The dwarf shook himself and simply smiled which made Bilbo's inside curl. Without a word, he lifted his fingers to his lips and before Bilbo could do anything he had let out long and sharp whistle, very much like the one she had been taught to use by Dwalin and Nori when she wanted to call the dwarves to her without actually calling out.

"Run…" Bilbo whispered to her cousins and father.

"What?"

"Don't ask questions, just go. Go!" Bilbo shoved her cousins to force them to run but it didn't matter for suddenly they were surrounded by dwarves, holding axes and after sharp weapons.

"What's all this Bovin?" A yellow haired dwarf asked looking at the strange assortment of hobbits they had surrounded.

"This," Bilbo squirmed furiously as she was once more grabbed by Bovin much to her cousins and father fury, "is Mr Bilbo Baggins."

"Yah, sure? Looks more like lass to me." Another dwarf commented with a bark of laughter.

Bilbo gritted her teeth and glared at each and every dwarf standing in her back hall. There was well over a dozen of them.

"Feisty little thing." Chuckled another dwarf.

"Gimme one your swords and you'll get to see just how feisty I am." Bilbo snapped as she once again pulled herself out of Bovin grip.

"Sir," Bilbo blinked at the strangely soft and quite un-dwarf-like voice, peering round the group trying to spy the speaker, "sir, we were meant to find a Mister Bilbo Baggins, weren't we? Not a miss? She mightn't be the right Baggins."

Bilbo could have kissed whoever had spoken; their soft, shy words could be what would get her and her family out of this sticky situations.

"I can bet you she is the Baggins you're looking for." Lotho snorted.

"LOTHO!"

"What, Billanna, brought this upon herself the moment she ran out her front door to tramping all over the country side with dwarves."

"Is that so?" Bovin asked with a wide grin while Bilbo thought of the many, many ways she would love to kill him.

"Yes," Lotho said with a self-important nod, "disappeared without a word on our wedding day, was gone for months with bunch of dwarves. And that, that isn't the worst of it. The worst of it is she came back wi…

"Lotho Sackville-Baggins, I will kill you!" Bilbo threatened making to lunge at her ex-husband-to-be.

"Yes, Mongrel, I do believe we have found the right Bilbo Baggins." Bovin said with triumphant punch in the air before he made to grab Bilbo. Only this time she was ready for him and ducked out of the way and aimed a painful kick at his shins before running for it, hopping her cousins and father would have the brains to do the same and if not, that the dwarves would only want her and would leave them all well enough alone.

She heard Bovin howl of pain and outrage and the sound of heavy feet chasing after to her. If she wasn't so scared, she would almost find this fun. It was almost like she was playing that old game she used to play with her younger dwarves during a lazy afternoon.

"Mama?"

Frodo…

"Frodo?" she had thought him outside or over at the Gamgees but no her son was standing in her study's doorway, holding Sting in his hand.

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Stand behind me." She said as she snatched her blade from his hand and shoved him behind her just as the first of her intruders stumbled upon them.

"Get out of my house." Bilbo growled as she held Sting out the way Kili had taught her. It felt strangely reassuring to be holding her blade, ready to defend her child and home from these intruders.

"Aw, how sweet." One of the dwarves drawled. He was almost a big Dwalin and was just as heavily pieced and tattooed as Thorin's Right-Hand man, but with a far less honourable air about him. "A letter opener? Lil'lass is going to attack us with a letter opener."

"I've killed many orcs, goblins, wargs and monster-sized spiders with this letter opener. Would you like to feel its sting like so many other did before they died?" Bilbo snarled causing the dwarves who were cornering her to look at each other with a hint of nervousness.

"Come, come." Bovin said stepping forward through the dwarves, one arm dragging her father along with him, a dagger pressed to his throat, "There is no need for such sharp words."

"Let him go." Bilbo whispered staring at her papa in horror. He was remarkably calm for one in his situation.

"Come with us, that is all I ask."

"Will you leave my family be?"

"Of course…"

"I mean it," Bilbo took a step forward, shoving the Sting's tip under Bovin's nose, "If I come with you, you are to leave my family be, you will not harm a single hair upon their heads, or so help me."

"Or you'll what?" Sneered a dwarf nearby.

"I have powerful friends, Master Dwarf." Bilbo said letting her voice fill with the strength and courage that she had long forgotten she possessed, "I have very powerful friends indeed. I am friends with Master Elrond of Rivendell, Beorn the Shapeshift. I am friends with the Great Eagle of the sky and I am friend of wizards, both of colours grey and brown."

"But you are no friend of Thorin Oakenshield." Bovin remark slyly as he pushed her father into another dwarf's hands. Bilbo felt as if the dwarf had physically slapped her. In fact, it would have hurt less if he had.

"I have no need of a friend in the King under the Mountain." Bilbo replied stiffly.

"Indeed?" Bovin said moving forward to grab her again only to jump back with another yelp of pain.

"You stay away from Mama!" Frodo snarled, brandishing a large piece of firewood in both of his hands and holding above his head. His blue eyes were narrowed and his mouth was twisted into an angry grimace. He looked so like his father. And she knew and she felt as if she was being stabbed threw her belly, that she wasn't the only one who saw the resemblance.

Bovin's eyes widen for a moment before they started to glint dangerously once more. And he wasn't the only one.

"Don't…" Bilbo said as she grabbed from back to her, "Don't even…" she held Sting out in front of them both.

"I'm afraid, Master Baggins that I cannot agree with your previous demands."

"Oh, I really think you can." Bilbo replied, holding Sting tighter in her hand, ready to strike, her eyes darting around her, seeking out those who would most likely try and snatch Frodo away when she finally fought Bovin.

She could hear her cousin, at least Paladin and Saradoc struggling against the dwarves whom held them. From Lotho she could only hear complaints and whining to be released.

"No, I really think not." Bovin said taking a step towards her.

"Try." Bilbo said as she pressed Sting's tip against his chest. Bovin blinked in surprised as he felt it piece slightly into his skin.

"Lass," Bovin said as he took a small step back, "you are seriously trying my patience."

"And you are trying mine!" Bilbo close to shrieked back, "Now, get out of my house!"

One of the dwarves made to lunge at her, but stopped with a yell of pain as Sting flashed against his cheek causing him to stumble back, clutching his bleeding face.

"Next time it's your eye." Bilbo growled at the still cursing dwarf, as she swung Sting back in front of her to keep Bovin from coming any closer.

"Is there any way for us to come to some kind of agreement that doesn't involve the loss of limps?" Bovin asked pleasantly.

"Hmmm, only if you leave and never return." Bilbo replied.

"No, I can't agree with that." He shook his head with a chuckle, "For if we leave, my employer will only send more who will be, I assure you, far worse than us to come and retrieve you, little Halfling. You and your royal mongrel of son."

"Why you…" Bilbo cried making to lunge at him before remembering she had to protect her child only it was too late and all hell seemed to break loose.

She yelled, swung her sword about with some satisfying results, fought and bite but it was all for naught when she heard her child crying out in pain.

"No, please." Bilbo whispered when she saw Frodo kicking and fighting in Bovin arms, "Please, don't. Please…" something hard and solid hit her across the back of her skull and blackness descended upon her.

Help… Thorin…

Chapter Text

Help… Thorin…

Thorin woke with a start at his great oak desk. What was that?

He rubbed his eyes fiercely, freeing them from the grit of sleep before he shoved himself out of his chair and stormed from his private study, startling the guards who stood on duty outside of it.

"Sire are you…" He ignored them and continued on his path to the destination that he sort.

"Well brother, this is an unexpected surprise." His sister was sitting by her fireplace, a book lying open in her lap, her brow forwarded as she watched him move cautiously into her living chamber.

"You are well?" he questioned as he searched every nock and cranny of her chambers with his sharp eyes for some unknown danger.

"Yes, should I not be?" His sister asked now sounding less surprised now and more aggravated.

"I thought I heard…" he trailed off knowing what his sensible and down-to-earth sister would think if he told her he was hearing voices in his head.

At least it's not that voice, he thought grouchily, trying to ignore his sister raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

"Thought you heard… what?" she asked slowly and carefully. While Dis had not seen his short time of being possessed by the gold sickness, she had seen their grandfather in its thrall. She had also been the first to realise that their father was losing his mind after the beheading of their grandfather at the Battle of Azanulbizar.

"Never mind. I'm sorry for disturbing you. Where are the boys?"

"Off hunting, now stop changing the subject. What did you think you heard?" Thorin glared at his sister, his younger sister who glared back at him with equal fire.

"Thorin."

"Dis." He ground back. He shouldn't have to put up with this, least of all from his little sister. He was King under the Mountain for Mahal's sake!

"Thorin start speaking now or I'll tell the rest of your company and I know they'll make you speak." Thorin felt that this was entirely unfair. Not that he'd ever admit it. And it wasn't that he was more incline to speak with his old company, it was just that they had better blackmail material to use against him than his sister currently did to make him speak.

And some were not afraid to use it either. He really needed to write a law where it was the death penalty to even breathe a certain Halflings name.

He winced at the very thought. That would only further taint her name.

Not, he reminded himself quietly, that the name they all knew her by was her true name. Only he knew her true birth name and he kept that name locked tightly within his heart.

"Well, have you decided?" His sister voice broke through his thoughts, "do you wish to speak to me or your old company?"

Not saying a word, he didn't want to give her too much pleasure in winning this particular argument – she and Billanna would get on so… he shook his head forcibly as he sat down in the leather armchair opposite her.

"Now that voice…"

"It wasn't…" Thorin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It wasn't… what? You looked quite worried when you came barraging into my chambers just now."

"I thought I heard a cry for help." Thorin snapped at her, causing his sister to sit back in her own chair blinking at him in surprise.

"A cry for help?"

"Yes," Thorin growled out in frustration, "I heard just for a moment someone, a woman, calling out my name as she cried for help."

"A memory, maybe? Were you asleep at your desk again Thorin?" Thorin threw his sister a disgruntled look, causing his sister to cluck her tongue in annoyance.

"Thorin, you have a perfectly nice bed, in a perfectly nice bedchamber. Use the damn thing instead of your desk as a pillow."

"It didn't feel like a memory or a dream." Thorin grated back at her, deciding ignoring her reprimes for sleeping at his desk again – it was a long standing argument between brother and sister and one that he saw lasting til their dying days – before sighing, "It felt real."

"With how many hours sleep I guess you get in a week, I'm surprised that anything seems real to you, brother dearest."

"Thank you sister, for being so loving and caring, as usual." Thorin shot back dryly. "And that's all you think it is, a memory or a dream even?"

His sister nodded.

"What else could it be? There is no danger here Thorin. And however much they might wish it, there are no dwarrow women calling out your name without a title or other stuck in front of it."

"You are not going to start that again are you?" Thorin growled.

"No, I'm not. I didn't even want to to begin with. I told those old fools on your counsel that you had no wish to marry, that you never did and I doubt you ever would, but does anyone ever listen to Dis? I do believe not." His sister finished rather tartly causing Thorin to see his sister as how she used to be when she was a young dwarrow lass running after him and Frenin through Erebor's great halls before Smaug came and destroyed everything they once knew and loved.

"I listen to you." He reminded her gently.

"Hmmph, only when you feel like it." She replied but her smile was gentle and sisterly and Thorin felt a great peace settle upon his heart for just a moment. Then the moment was gone when he saw a flash of frighten brown eyes and another cry for his help.

"Did you hear it again?" Dis asked him gently.

"Why…"

He thought he saw a thought pass across Dis's sapphire blue eyes before she blinked it away and shook her head.

"I don't know brother."

"Liar." He grunted but he knew he could never force his sister into telling him anything that she did not wish to tell.

"Yes I am, but only because I do not believe you will like what I might say."

"Such as?"

She smiled at him, reminding him of his nephews smiles when they had been caught in the middle of doing something that they shouldn't.

"Brother dear, I am not suicidal. I know which buttons of yours I can push and which I cannot. And this is one of those matters where, no matter how much I might try to avoid it, one of you buttons will be pushed and you will be then figuratively bitting my head off." Thorin simply stared at his sister for moment trying, like he had been trying to do since the moment of her birth, to understand exactly what she was thinking.

"I would…"

His sister raised an eyebrow at him causing him to grumble and slouch in his chair.

"I am your king," he rumbled, "show some respect and be obedient to my commands for once."

"You are also my brother and for the sake of this whole kingdom, I won't. Not until I think you can handle it."

"Dis…"

"I mean it, brother. You know you can't get anything out of me unless I wish to share it and believe me when I say I think it would be best for me to keep my thoughts to myself for the time being."

Thorin sat in his armchair stewing over this while Dis appeared to have returned to reading her book. Not that she really had, she was keeping an eye on her brother. She worried about him. Not because she feared he would become possessed by the madness that seemed to curse the men in their family – no, according to her boys her older brother had already been possessed by the gold sickness for a time. And due to it, he had been forced to face the ultimate consequence of what the gold sickness could do. And because of this consequence he had broken free of the madness and had become the Dwarven King sitting across from her this day.

No, she no longer feared that her brother would succumb to the dragon sickness like their grandfather or the madness like their father.

She knew he thought that was what she worried about, what they all worried about when they asked him if he was alright. He resent them for it, never bothering to ask if this was truly what they were thinking, simply assuming that it was. Her brother was a good dwarf, but an awfully stubborn one when his mind was set on something.

Like his heart.

For that was what they worried about most, Thorin Oakenshield's true friends. Dis did not know the hobbit lass whom had travelled with her brother and her sons and their companions to reclaim Erebor as she never had a chance to meet the lass, but she knew quite a bit about her from her sons'. Kili in particular liked to talk about her, speaking at times as if she was second mother or a younger sister, depending on the circumstances. Fili who was shaping so very nicely into Thorin's heir was much quieter on the subject of their hobbit burglar, but when he did speak of her, it was with a small and wistful smile. She had heard other dwarves speak of the hobbit lass. Balin spoke highly of her, when Thorin wasn't around. Bombur and Bofur spoke of her like she was a little sister to them, or something more for one of them, but Dis had kept this assumption to herself. Kili's young scribe friend Ori, the youngest Ri brother – such a sweet and gentle little fellow, she had almost thump Thorin when she heard that Ori had gone along on his mad venture to reclaim this very mountain – had shown her a sketch he had drawn of their burglar during one of her many visits to the huge and magnificent library of Erebor.

The burglar had a pretty face, a face that held a unique blend of beauty and strength. So very different from a dwarrowdam.

Dis had kept the sketch, for even though she had never met the hobbit lass who had died somewhere on the plains outside Erebor's great doors, she felt kinship with her. For after all, if things had been different, the hobbit burglar might have become Queen under the Mountain.

Dis sighed softly.

But that could never be… unless.

She shook her head. No, it was impossible.

"You think it's her… don't you?"

Dis jumped a little at her brother's unexpected voice breaking through her thoughts.

"Hmm, brother, who?"

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows at her but he couldn't hold her eyes for long.

"You know who." He mutters as he stares down at his worn, blacksmith hands still more used to wielding a hammer or a sword than ruling a kingdom.

"It has crossed my mind, but it is impossible." She said as gently as she could.

"I don't know why she did it." he sighed, throwing his head back against the back of the armchair and staring up at the rock ceiling of her chambers. "Why didn't she just run?"

"Where to brother? You said so yourself many times that the enemy came from seemingly all directions, where would she have been able to go?"

"She had her ring. Her magic ring. And she was quick and sneaky. If anyone could have snuck off that battlefield, it would have been her. It should have been her."

"Well, maybe she did. Maybe she did exactly that." Dis offered ignoring the fiery glare her brother was giving her. "Or not. Are you never going to stop torturing yourself over this, brother?"

"No."

"Good."

"Thank you sister," He replied dryly, "for being so understanding."

"Always, brother." She beamed at him from over her book.

He gave her a tired glare in return before turning his gaze back on the roaring fire burning in her fireplace.

Dis sat and watched her brother for a few more moments in silence before turning to her own thoughts once more.

He misses his burglar that is all; she tells herself firmly, He feels guilt over her death as he should. That is why his mind is torturing him so; it is nothing more than that.

But deep in her heart, Dis almost wishes it was more than that, for than just maybe the hobbit lass might be alive. It was a beggar's hope, she knew as there had been no signs of the hobbit lass, dead or alive, in over eleven years.

A short time really, by dwarf time, but Dis is certain each year has felt like a century to her brother. And she was sure that the pain of the hobbit's loss will stay with him until the day he died.

Where are you little hobbit? Are you gone from this world forever? Or do you still breathe and live? Do you still think of my brother as he thinks of you?

Where are you? If you are not dead, please come, he needs you more than he'll ever admit even to himself.

Where are you little hobbit? Where are you?

Chapter Text

Where am I? Bilbo thought groggily. Her head was heavy and she felt sick in her gut. She could hear the noises of movement, of stomping feet and hooves, of ponies snorting softly and the low whispering of voices around her.

Where am I?

She sat up slowly for her brain quickly discovered that she was resting in the saddle of a horse and any jerky movements she might make were sure to make her fall off. Just like she was about to…

"Easy Miss." A large hand caught her hip before she completely fell off the horse.

She blinked, something about the voice sounded familiar and yet it stirred a terrible memory within her.

"Frodo." She croaked as she gripped the front of the saddle with both her hands and tried to force her blurring eyes to focus on something, anything. The light of the sun stung her eyes forcing her to shut them again.

"Your little lad is safe miss; he is with my brother as is your papa. Your cousins are a little way back but I believe they're alright as well, miss."

"Who are you?" Bilbo whispered, her head throbbing so badly that her eyes watered.

"Radin, miss. Radin son of Runira, at your service." She looked at the hand pressed firmly to her waist, keeping her from falling off the horse and knew immediately that it was no hand of a dwarf's. It was too large and the fingers too long, though it was caked with enough dirt and the skin callous enough that from a distance it could have easily passed for that of a dwarf's. A human blacksmith maybe? But he named himself as she had heard all Dwarves to name themselves, only difference being he had named a mother instead of a father.

She wanted to twist around to look at him but her head hurt too much to do such a thing so instead she continued to talk, question rather, because this lad, for he sounded quite young, seemed to be open enough to talk with her.

"Where are you taking me and my family? What do you want?" she felt the lad stiffen against her back but his hand on her waist remained gentle.

"I-I don't know." He replied softly. She could hear the pain in his voice, the indecision in it. He wanted to be here even less then she did, if that was even possible.

"Is my family alright?"

"Yes, miss. Your little boy was crying for you but my brother was able to calm him down. We have a sister of a similar age back home." Radin explained with a hint of shy pride that made Bilbo smile.

"Why are you and your brother here and not home with your family?" Bilbo asked gently and again she felt the lad stiffen.

"Because," he replied wistfully, "if we leave, we won't have any family to go back to. Sleep miss, we have a long journey ahead of us and you will need all your strength."

Bilbo had no wish for sleep; she wanted to find her son and pull him into her arms and tell him everything was going to be alright. She wanted to find those who had stolen them from their very home and yell and scream at them, make them do what was right and return her and her family back home to the Shire.

There were many things Bilbo wished to do instead of sleep but sleep as it usually did, won out in the end and she lay her throbbing head back against Radin's broad chest and allowed for the darkness to consume her once more.

When she woke it was going on dark and they were no longer moving. In fact she found herself lying on the ground near to where a camp fire was burning.

"Mama?"

"Frodo?" she twisted her head to see her son sitting by her side, his face smeared with dirt but otherwise he appeared unharmed. He was also not bound as she had just discovered she was.

Her hands and feet were bound with heavy, thick rope, though she was sure if she worked at it, she would be able to get her hands free and then of course her feet.

"Are you alright, darling heart. Have they hurt you?"

Her son shook his head.

"No Mama."

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief before starting to worry over her father and her cousins. Hadn't the lad Radin said that they had come along on this misadventure?

She sat up slowly and cautiously, her head was still throbbing and with bound wrists the task of sitting up took a little longer than usual.

"Ah, awake are you my dear?" A voice sneered at her and Bilbo fought back the desire to kick the dwarf hard in his shins.

"No thanks to you or your men," Bilbo retorted, "and what's all this?" she gestured at her hands and feet.

"A precaution, that is all." Bovin replied silkily.

"A precaution? What Bovin," Bilbo's eyes flashed as she stared up into the dwarf's dark eyes, "you wouldn't be afraid of a little Halfling woman would you now?"

His slap was not unexpected and if she hadn't jerked her head back when she did, the blow would have been much more severe. Even so, her eyes watered as she spat out the blood that had been caused when her teeth had cut the inside of her mouth.

"Watch your tongue, Halfling or I'll cut it out." Frodo's arms came to wrap around her neck but Bilbo could do nothing more than glare at Bovin as he strode away, barking out orders for the other Halflings to be brought over to where she and Frodo sat.

"Fine pickle we're in." Was Paladin's first comment to her once he and the other three hobbits were marched over to where she and Frodo were sitting by the fire.

"Why didn't you run when I told you to?" Bilbo moaned wincing slightly at the pain she felt from her cheek as she spoke.

Her Brandybuck and Took cousins shrugged and Bilbo felt like thumping them behind their heads for being so loyally stupid. She could hear Lotho muttering darkly underneath his breath but she ignored him and turned her attention to her poor father who looked very weak and frail as he hunched down by the fire.

"Papa? Are you hurt?" she touched his shoulder gently with one of her bound hands. She felt him stiffen before relaxing. But beside for that he made no response to her question.

"Papa?" she looked into her father's face and felt her heart grow heavy. Her father had gone into one of his trances and would not come out of it until his mind felt good and ready. But who knew when that would be.

She sighs softly underneath her breath.

She sat quietly by the fire while her kin curl up near her, none complaining that they were hungry, each realising it would be best for the moment for them to keep their mouths shut.

She watched each of the dwarves carefully, analysing them as she had once done with her old company. Only this time, instead of doing this to help her better understand them, she did so in search for a weakness, any weakness that they might possess. She saw that one was carrying her little blade and fumes that he dared to take it from her home.

Only, she realised, that might work to her advantage. If she could just get her hands on her little blade she might be able to… what?

Get them all away from here safely? Not a chance. She was just one hobbit among five who could not fight. Two who might be of some help in a fight, one who could be helpful if he chose and one who was all but helpless. And then there was Frodo to consider.

She looked down at her brave little lad, who was curled up by her side his head resting on her thigh as he slept.

She frowned as she noticed something glinting underneath his collar. Carefully, so as to not draw the attention of any of the dwarves, Bilbo moved her bound hands to carefully draw back Frodo's tunic. She drew a deep breath inwards.

Her mithril coat. How was it? How did he…

She forced herself to get over her shock at her son wearing the coat and wondering how and when he had managed to slip it on even though she had all but forbidden him from doing so and forced herself to see the positives. The coat would protect her son from almost all kinds harm that could befall on him on this journey.

She would have to talk to him in the morning about keeping the coat a secret for those who had taken them would surely take the coat off him if they knew of its existence.

"You should be sleeping miss." Bilbo jumped and twisted her head around to address the speaker that she would sleep when she wished to sleep. But her voice went dry within her throat as she looked upon the speaker. Even though it was a dark night and the light of the fire was not glowing all the brightly she could see immediately that this dwarf – if he was a dwarf at all – was not normal.

He was too big for one thing, with his limbs being disproportion to his body. He had the height of a man with the build of a dwarf. His face was also odd, a mismatch of conflicting features, human and dwarf.

He seemed to notice her gaze on his oddly shaped face and blushed, ducking his head and making to move away.

"I'm-I'm sorry," Bilbo said quickly, "I did not mean to stare. Please, forgive me for my rudeness."

The oddly formed lad looked back at her, surprise written all over his features.

"You want me to for-forgive you?" he stuttered sounding confused along with amazed.

"Yes, please do. It was rude of me to stare." Bilbo said and watched as the lad's face twisted into what seemed to be smile.

"No one has ever apologized for staring at me before," he admitted as he moved slowly back to her side, "and believe me, plenty stare and point and yell things out and…" he trailed off and ducked his head once more.

"Are you Radin?" she asked, for he sounded very much like the lad she had spoken to earlier that day.

The lad nodded his head vigorously, causing for his long and brutally plaited braid to bounce wildly around his head.

Bilbo could help but smile as she watched his energetic movements and awkwardly held out her left hand, tucking her right one around her bounds.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Radin."

"Same to you miss." Radin said taking her tiny hand in his huge one and smiling shyly at her. They spoke for a few moments more before Radin was yelled at to get more firewood for the fire.

The lad sighed before shooting her a small smile over his shoulder as he lumbered off to gather more wood.

Bilbo settled back against the ground, curling her body protectively around her son and tried to sleep. Sleep did not come easily and when it did come, nightmares quickly followed.

For Bilbo, morning did not come quickly enough.

"Awake are we, little madam?" Bilbo glared over at Bovin, who was smirking down at her.

"Where are you taking us?" Bilbo growled causing the dwarf to only smirk all the wider at her.

"Over the hills and far away from your sweet little homeland, little miss and that is all you need to know." He replied before barking out orders for everyone to wake up and for breakfast to be started.

The camp quickly got moving and far too soon Bilbo found herself being swung once more onto Radin's horse. Frodo was quickly settled in the saddle in front of her by Radin before he too swung himself onto his horse. Radin reassured her that her father and cousins were quite safe; they were in the care of his younger brother and a dwarf friend.

Bilbo tried to keep this in mind, but once the company of kidnappers had started moving her mind quickly moved on to other things, such as trying to figure out where she and her family was being taken, searching for landmarks that she might remember from her last adventure.

She saw none and her stomach tighten with terror of the unknown.

She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged Frodo closer to her.

Gandalf… Lord Elrond… Beorn…. Thorin, she whispered inside of her head. Please, anyone of you, hear my pray and come and save my family from whatever fate we will meet at the end of this misadventure. Please, help us. Someone, anyone…

Chapter Text

Thorin looked up from his mountain of paper work and turned his bleary-eyed in the direction of raised voices moving steadily in his directions.

Good, a distraction, he thought trying to contain his gleeful grin at the thought of getting out reading and signing papers, if only for a few moments.

"Cousin!" Thorin had barely stood up from his chair when his huge and larger than life cousin came striding purposefully into his office, followed closely by Dwalin and Balin.

"Hello Dain. Wasn't expecting you til Wednesday." Thorin greeted his cousin.

"Thorin, it is Wednesday." Balin offered with a slight roll of his eyes.

"Is it?" Thorin asked feeling a little sheepish but hid it well behind his customary scowl.

His large cousin however did not seem to notice his sheepishness and instead simply threw himself into the nearest chair in Thorin's office.

"Bovin's at it again." Dain boomed once he had down his first mug of ale that Dwalin had offered him.

"Bovin? Bovin son of Brovin?" Thorin asked as he sat back down at his desk, his brows forwarded. "Didn't you banish him?" Thorin knew that there was a long and somewhat ugly history between his cousin and Bovin son of Brovin. He himself had met the dark haired dwarf several times during his years of exile and hadn't thought much of the dwarf.

"Banished," Dain grunted, "shouldta slit the blighters throat."

"Why?" Thorin questioned, "What's he done?" now, he added silently to himself. He noticed that both Balin and Dwalin were both glaring at Dain, trying to convey in their own way that they wanted his cousin to remain silent about whatever it was that had brought him from the Iron Hills to Erebor.

"Consorting with Orcs, for one." Dain rumbled with disgust, his scarred face twisted into a dark grimace beneath his heavy mane of hair.

Thorin felt his face twist into a dark scowl. How could any full-blooded, self-respecting dwarf consort with Orcs of all evil creatures in Middle-Earth?!

"And not just any Orcs, either, cousin." Dain added with a severe note to his thick tone.

"What do you mean?" Thorin demanded, ignoring Balin deep, long-suffering sigh.

"Bzog, Azog the Defilers spawn."

Thorin's hands curled into fists, his nails digging deeply into his palms. Would he never be free of Azog, the Defiler? Even in death, the pale orc still tormented him.

"Bovin," Thorin took a deep breath to calm the rage that was brewing within his chest, "Bovin is consorting with that-that creatures spawn?"

"According to my sources, yes." Dain replied with a sharp nod of his head.

"For what reason?"

"Business partners of some kind. Bzog ás apparently hired Bovin and his dwarves to retrieve sum'thing for him."

"What? Retrieving what?" Thorin growled out in frustration.

Dain simply shook his head.

"Didn't hear that part," Dain admitted looking apologetically back at him, "only that it is something of great importance. And Thorin…"

"Dain…" Balin warned stepping forward, giving the Lord of the Iron Hills a hard look.

"What Dain?" Thorin demanded, ignoring the two brothers who were glancing at each other with worried expressions.

"He wants to finish what his father started, to end the line of Durin."

"And he thinks he will, does he?" Thorin asked, forcing himself to keep his face neutral.

"With whatever he gotten Bovin to retrieve, he certainly thinks he will."

"Where's the wretch now?"

"Bovin? Somewhere over the Misty Mountains, I believe. Bzog?" Dain simply shrugged his massive shoulders, "my source could not tell me, no matter how he tried to keep track of him and his pack."

Thorin ran a hand over his scarred face.

He thought that it was all over. That all the reminders of his past had either been destroyed or resolved after he had taken his rightful place as King under the Mountain.

"I've sent dwarves after Bovin." Dain was saying and Thorin forced himself to focus upon his cousin's words.

"Will they catch up to him?"

Dain shook his head ruefully.

"But they will catch the bugger on his way back and then," Dain eyes glowed like burning coals as he cracked his fists, "then he'll tell us where the foul bastard is."

"And what it was that he was hired to retrieve." Thorin growled.

"Might find it on him." Dwalin added, "Might be able to use it against the orc."

"We don't even know what it is," Balin said patiently, ever the diplomat, "it might not even be a weapon of any kind."

"What else could it be?" Balin rolled his eyes at the three dwarves who were all looking back at him with sceptical looks.

"Knowledge, information, could be anything." Balin retorted, his mind conjuring up a multitude of ideas as to what Bzog had asked Bovin and his dwarves to retrieve. "Could be anything." He said again, "we must keep an open-mind about this."

"A dwarf who is already considered a traitor by his kin is said to be consorting with one of our greatest enemies. I don't know how much of an open-mind one can be about such a matter, brother." Dwalin replied.

"I meant we must be open-minded about whatever it was Bovin has been sent to retrieve. It might be something we least expect."

"Like?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Balin said with a shrug of his shoulders, even though his mind was still conjuring up ideas with every passing moment "but that is why I say we keep our minds open to whatever it is and not simply class it as weapon. Knowledge can be far more dangerous than any kind of weapon in the world."

"Fine." Thorin said with a growl before turning his attention to Dain, "I want you to bring the traitor and his men here as soon as your dwarves capture them."

"'at was the plan." Dain said as he stretched his arms above his head, causing his shoulders to pop, "In what condition?" he asked with raised eyebrows, obviously hoping for permission to beat Bovin a few inches from death, keeping him alive just enough to tell them what Bzog was about.

"In whatever condition you find them." Thorin replied making both Dain and Dwalin grumble. "I want them brought to me with the ability to speak."

"They'd still be able to speak; jus' walking might be an issue or two for 'em." Dain said with a grin causing Dwalin to give a loud bark of laughter.

Thorin rolled his eyes at the pair of them.

"Bring them to me in the condition you find them in, don't add to it in anyway."

"You're taking all the fun out of this, cousin." Dain rumbled, sounding quite dishearten by it all.

"He always does, getting soft in his old age." Dwalin replied in a mock-whisper, his eyes glinting as he snuck a glance at Thorin who was mulling over how best to lodge his letter opener in Dwalin's skull.

Would just bounce off anyway, what with how thick his head is, and break a perfectly good letter opener as the only result, he thought with a slight grin.

Dain left Thorin's study shortly afterwards, followed closely by Balin and Dwalin while Thorin sank back into his chair, his mind drifting over all that Dain had informed him.

A part of him – the warrior and unforgiving prince part of him – wanted to take up his old armour and Orcrist and hunt down the foul spawn of Azog the Defiler. The king part of him knew that while he trusts Dain and his information, he still needs more information to go on before he can go charging off in the vague direction that Bzog might be in.

What he really needed right now was to come up with a strategy, a course of action. He really would like to come out of a battle with a white orc being able to walk on his own two feet. Because all his confrontation with Azog, they had been spurred of the moment on his part and had almost always very nearly resulted in his death.

And you don't have your burglar around to save you from death now, he thought grimly, feeling the familiar surge of raw pain shoot threw his heart at the thought of her.

She too, had never had much of a plan whenever she went up against Azog and yet she always ended up better off than Thorin himself, she at least managed to walk away… at least the first few times…

With everything else she did, she always had some kind of plan worked out in her head beforehand. With Azog? It had been pure instinct that had driven her after him when he had foolishly tried to take the Pale Orc on after their escape from Goblin Town.

His fight with the Pale Orc had lasted mere seconds before he was knocked down and unable to rise again. He would have died if she hadn't come running after him, running after him and into the certain jaws of death.

She had showed her true bravery to him that night. Her bravery, her stubbornness, her loyalty, her foolishness.

In fact, he did believe he heard Gandalf call her a Fool of Took on their way to Beorn's house for her actions. He had meant to ask her, as he had done when she first reappeared to them after being lost during their captivity by the goblins, why? Why she had done it?

Why had she risked her life for a dwarf who had not once said a kind word to her, had offered her nothing but criticism and harsh words, even in moments when she deserved praise?

Why had she put her life on the line for a dwarf who would have, at that moment in time, left her fate unknown, without so much as a second thought, if she had not returned to them when she had.

He shook his head, sighing.

Now he could not go a single day, hour, without thinking of her. How dramatically ones thoughts about another living being could change.

He hadn't fallen in love with her that night but her actions and her words had started those feeling growing within his heart and soul.

Again, he shook his head.

Now was not the time to dwell upon her. He had too much to do, to think over, to plot. She had no place among these thoughts.

So wincing slightly as he did so, he locked her memories, her face away in his heart once more. With each time however, it was growing harder and harder to do so. He didn't know why. Why it was suddenly all the harder to stop thinking of her and it seemed to be growing all the worse.

He would close his eyes and he would see hers, wide and frighten, calling his name, calling for him to help her.

He lifted himself out of his chair, his hand moving to his inner coat pocket. Once his hand had closed around the small object within his pocket he moved over to his wine cabinet and poured himself a large mug of his favourite wine before returning to his chair behind his desk.

After taking a sip of the wine, he pulled out the only thing in his possession that truly meant something to him these days.

A simple ring hanging from a cord necklace.

It had been hers. Or more correctly the ring had been her mother's wedding band. She had worn the ring around her neck for all of their adventure until she presented it to him as return gift for the mithril coat he had given her as her first payment for being the companies' burglar.

She had said it had been her good luck charm throughout the whole journey and that she hoped it would do the same for him.

He had been, admittedly, more than a little taken aback; he knew how much the ring had meant to her. It had been her last true link to her mother and home and yet she had presented it to him with a bright and warm smile, her eyes full of certainty and affection.

He had been close to throwing it away after her betrayal but had found himself unable to do so and as the last of the gold madness left him, he had held on to the ring closely as a reminder of everything he had lost because of his pride and the sickness of greed.

He stared down at the simple band of gold with a heavy heart before returning it to its rightful place within his inner coat pocket, right over where his heart beat.

I fell in love with you.

I don't know when or how and I don't know why but I will love you til the day I die.

Chapter Text

In the few weeks he had known her, Radin had to admit he was impressed by the hobbit women's persistence and strength. Not to mention her ingenuity. He was sure that if she didn't have her father, cousins and son with her, she would have escaped from their grasps in a heartbeat. But as she did, she came up with various ways of trying to get her family safely away from her captives. But, by no fault of her own, the hobbits were always ended up being caught at the last moment and the hobbit lass was beaten for her disobedience. But she never broke. She took each beating in silence and when it was over, she glared back at her captors with such defiance and regality, that Radin wouldn't be surprised if she was secretly a queen. Well, she was mother of a bastard child of a king, so he supposed she had some right to have a regal air about her.

He wondered how long Bovin and the others would put up with her repeated attempts to escape with her family as he highly doubt that she was going to give up any time soon. She would continue to try and escape with her family until the last breath of life left her body.

She was brave for one so small. Not only that, she was kind. To him, to his brother and for that he liked and admired her all the more.

Guilt over what he knew would happen to her and her family ate at him during every waking hour of every day they travelled closer to their journey's goal.

With each passing day he wanted to tell her the truth about their destination, the truth of what she and her family would be facing for at this moment the hobbit appeared to think that the Dwarven King of Erebor had something to do with her abduction.

She question Bovin constantly over who was behind her kidnapping, demanding to know if the Durin King had something to do with it.

Bovin had only smiled a self-satisfied, knowing smile back at her. But still she tried, every moment of every day, she tried.

Radin glanced over his shoulder, back along the rocky and unstable path that they were currently marching along through the misty mountains to where the hobbits were moving miserably behind him.

The two younger male hobbits moved well enough. As did the third when he wasn't whining over lack of food, comfort and everything else under the Sun. But the hobbit lass, with her father and child, moved much slower. It was her father that was slowing her down the most for she refused to be separated from him.

With each passing day the old hobbit grew all the more frailer and weak. His mind was, it seemed, to be in an even worse state than his body, for it wander and left him as nothing better than a staggering, breathing shell.

His slow progress was slowing the whole expedition down and Radin feared what would happen to them all if they reached the meeting point that had been organised between Bovin and Bzog well after the date that they were due.

If he had been able to, he would have had all the hobbits on top of ponies but due to the path that Bovin had chosen to take them through the Misty Mountains, ponies and horses were unable to come with them due to the treacherous path. This meant that the hobbits had to walk, on their much shorter legs, with the old one coming nearer and nearer to his death with each step he took.

Radin wonder if the old hobbit would even live to see their destination. It might even be a mercy if he didn't, for him to die along this mountain pass and not have to face the cruel intent of the Orc pack that awaited his daughter.

Camp was called as they came upon a small mountain river, bitterly cold but utterly refreshing when splashed against wind bitten faces or drunk down dry, raw throats.

The hobbits huddled together, the youngest and the oldest in behind the other four, the brave hobbit lass at their front glaring daggers at them all.

Radin turned his attention away from the hobbits and focused on helping with setting up camp and getting dinner ready.

"W're moving too slowly, cousin." Bodiol son of Borgial grumbled to Bovin as he bit into a piece of tough bread.

"I know." Bovin growled as he shot a glance in the direction of the six hobbits, unsurprised that the little female met his gaze and glared furiously back at him.

She had spirit; he'd give her that, even if she was the most obnoxious, infuriating little wrench in all of Middle-Earth. If he did not have a job to accomplish that involved her being alive and unspoilt, he would have throttled her by now. Her and her brat. But both were worth a pretty penny, so killing them would not work in his favour. The only reason he hadn't yet gotten rid of the other four Halfling was due to the simple fact that they slowed her down. Her escape attempts probably wouldn't have failed if she was simply trying to escape with her son. The other four Halflings messed up her escape attempts every time and for this reason, and this reason alone, was why he hadn't killed them yet. And you never know, they themselves might be worth something on the market.

Even so, they were moving far too slowly for his likening and the hobbit lass was growing more and more restless and uncooperative the further they moved into the mountains.

He worried that she might try and pull yet another escape attempt and that this time she might just manage it. There were lots of places along the mountainous road that they were marching along for six silent footed little creatures to hide undetected by pursuers, even with members of the group being very old and very young.

He glanced back at the Shirelings, the Halfling lass once again meeting his gaze with a heated glare.

"Little bitch is getting on my nerves." He growled to Bodiol who grunted in agreement.

"S'll be in Bzog's hands 'oon enough."

"Not at the pace we're currently moving at." Bovin snarled angrily. "We're expected to hand her over before summer's ends but at the rate we're moving at, it'll be well into autumn before we reached the meeting place."

"And e'll be out 'ooking for us be'ore then." Bodiol added with a small shudder.

"That he will. That he will. And who knows what he'll do to us then." Bovin growled. They needed to speed up their progress or it would be their heads that would have the bounty over them.

"And I don't 'ant to find out." Bodiol grumbled. "'umething needs to be done Bovin or it'll be our heads rolling, not the King under the Mountain's."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Bovin growled in response as he absently rubbed the back of his neck. "Give me a moment to think."

"Don't s'pose we could just leave all but the wench." Bodiol grumbled.

"We need the lad." Bovin grunted.

"Do ya think that Durin's King will really believe he sired the brat?"

"A half-wit could tell the brat's his. Even if he is a mongrel." Bovin snorted in disgust.

"Even so, he 'ight try an deny it."

"He won't." He cousin looked at him questioningly, "the dwarf's too damn honourable for his own good. He'll take one good look at the lad, hear where we found him and the wench's name and we'll be able to name our price for the brat's head. Durin's line holds their family line close, and I'm sure the lad will be no different."

"Even if he's a 'ungrel bastard?"

"Even if he's a mongrel bastard." Bovin grinned wickedly, "Especially when he's the mongrel bastard son of the King under the Mountain."

"He might just pay us 'ore to 'imply ring the brat's neck." Bodiol muttered.

"No, not this King. Besides," Bovin grinned at his cousin, "it'll be more fun to watch the King be humiliated by this mongrel in front of his whole kingdom then for us to be paid to quietly snap the boy's neck ourselves. We'll make ourselves a pretty penny parading him in front of everyone in that damnable mountain. Then when he can't bear the disgrace and shame anymore, Thorin Oakenshield will pay us whatever we ask to be rid of the brat. Only once we have the money, we'll leave him with the brat and he can have one of his men to snap the brat's neck."

"Well, at's the brat taken care of. But w've still got the issues with 'is mother. And how we going to deliver the mother without Bzog finding out about the son? 'e'll be wanting the brat once 'e finds out who the father is."

"We split up before we reach the meeting place. One group goes and stops a short distance from Erebor, with the brat and the other Halflings and I and another group will take the wench to Bzog. Once we've delivered her to Bzog, we'll back-track to you lot, head to Erebor, throw the brat into bloody Oakenshield's face, get our money and get out of there. We'll be living like Kings before winter's out, cousin my friend." Bovin said with a wide grin.

"Bzog aint gonna appreciate not being given the brat long with the wench." Bodiol rumbled as he took a long swig of strong smelling rum from his water skin.

"How will he ever know about him? Oakenshield will try and hush it all up."

"t'ese t'ings have a t'ancy to get around, no matter how hush hush it is."

"What does it matter, in the end?" Bovin asked as he pulled out his pipe, filled it with pipeweed and lit it, "by the time he does hear of the brat, we'll be long gone and with any luck, he and Oakenshield will have killed each other before they give us more than a moment's thought." He blew out a large smoke ring as he smirked.

"As I said, my good friends, we'll be living like Kings by winters end. And we'll have killed two birds with one stone by the end of this venture."

"You've given 'is a lot of t'ought, 'aven't you cousin?"

"That I have." Bovin smirked. "That I have." He blew another smoke ring into the night, his mind plotting away his next move in this very complicated game that he was playing.

Chapter Text

Bilbo woke with a sharp hiss of pain as something hard and solid collided with her back, effectively winding her.

"Wake up! Wake up little Halfling wench!" another swift kick to her back caused her to let out another hiss of pain and for Frodo to let out a small squeal of fright.

"I'm awake. Stop it. I'm awake." She sat up despite the protesting pain in her back and glared up at the dwarf who had kicked her awake.

He sneered down at her before sizing her arm and dragged her – and Frodo who was clutching to her tightly – to where Bovin was standing, barking harsh orders in Khuzdul.

Bilbo picked up a few words, but nothing that would paint her a clear picture as to what was happening.

She noticed that the rest of her family were not being dragged after her and Frodo, instead they were being forced to go in a completely opposite direction.

Her stomach churned in fear as to what might happen.

"What's going on?" She snapped at Bovin once she and Frodo had been brought before him, "What's happening?"

"A change of plans." Bovin replied simply, a nasty grin appearing beneath his heavy black beard.

Bilbo felt cold sweat trickle down her spine.

"What kind of changes?"

"We've noticed that we are falling behind schedule with the current pace we're moving at, so we've thought of a change of action that will keep everyone happy and us on schedule."

"By everyone you mean yourselves." Bilbo snapped.

"Why, of course," Bovin replied silkily as he smirked down at her.

"What are these changes of plans that will keep everyone – and by everyone you mean yourselves – happy and on schedule?" Bilbo demanded, her arms wrapping themselves tightly around Frodo, her eyes no longer looking up at Bovin's smirking face but rather at a dwarf who was standing nearby. Her eyes focused upon his waist were a little blade hung from his belt. Just a little closer…

"Separation." Bovin stated with a smug air about him, "We'll move faster and you might behave yourself more if we get a little separation between you and your brat."

Bilbo felt her heart stop at his words.

No, no, they couldn't! They wouldn't.

She hugged Frodo closer to her, her eyes darting between Bovin and Sting. Just a little closer…

Her frighten look seemed to please Bovin for his smirk only grew wider as he moved closer to them. Bilbo took a several steps back, Frodo hugged to her side, his face pressed against her chest.

"I'm warning you." She hated how weak and squeaky her voice sounded. She tried to make herself stand up straighter and appear warrior-like but she was so tired and weak from travelling in such rough conditions that she could barely muster a stern grimace.

Bovin let out a bark of laughter.

"Oh wench, what could you possibly do to us?" his smirk quickly turned into a look of surprise when he suddenly had an elven letter opener stuck under his nose.

"Why you little…" the dwarf Bilbo had just stolen Sting from started to snarl as he made to grab her only to stumble backwards clutching bloody fingers or rather the bloody stumps of his fingers.

Bilbo felt her stomach flip as she stared from the dwarf's bloody stumps to his severed fingers lying on the rocking mountain path.

Oh… dear… She hadn't meant to do that! Cut him. Yes, to make him back off, but cut several of his fingers off? Eh, not quite. She was going to pay for this now.

"You truly love making things difficult for yourself don't you, wench?" Bovin stated and Bilbo was surprised to see that he was laughing, even though it wasn't a particularly nice laugh as he shoved the yelping and cursing dwarf back, snapping at him in Khuzdul to get a grip on himself.

"Let us go." She wouldn't beg, even now she refused to beg for their release, she would stand tall – as tall as a hobbit could stand – and straight, she would not, no she refused to kneel before these evil creatures and beg.

Frodo clutched to her side even more tightly as Bovin beared down upon, causing for Bilbo to lift Sting – its blade still dripping with the dwarf blood – and stuck it under Bovin's chin, bringing him up short.

"Let us go or you'll be losing more than a couple of fingers." She growled.

"So much fire." Bovin replied with a silky smile, his eyes looking her up and down in an admiring fashion, "So soft in appearance but filled with a flame that burns brighter than even dragon's fire. I can see now what he saw in you to make him forget his royal ways, to forget the disgrace and shame you would bring him with the mongrel growing in your belly."

Bilbo forced herself not to flinch at his words, even though each one struck her like a physical blow.

"It doesn't hurt that you are such a pretty little thing, in your own queer little way. A pretty little plaything." He let out a harsh but amused chuckle, "For what more could you have possibly have been to him? For him to toss you aside without out so much as a backwards glance, to never come looking for you after his Kingdom was restored to its former glory. Do you think he would have kept you little Halfling? If he had known of the bastard whelp you have clutching to your side? Maybe he would have. The whelp, I mean. But you? I can't imagine what he might have done with you. Turn you out into harsh, cold world? Or kept you locked away, hidden from all eyes, dark in a dungeon, deep within the mountain, far from the Sun and green earth that you love so. Or maybe he would have done neither. Maybe he would have shoved a sword through your belly the moment he learnt of the whelp." He smirked as she gasped out loud at the horrific images his words were causing to appear within her mind.

Thorin at his most terrible, his face twisted with unprecedented rage as he thrust Orcrist straight into the swell of her belly, the swell that contained the life of their child. Their child… Frodo.

"No." She whispered fighting back bitter tears, "no, he wouldn't. He would never do that! And if he tried, I would never have let him. I would never have let him or anyone harm my child."

"How far," Bovin smirked and Bilbo swallowed thickly, "how far would you go to protect your child?"

"I would die for him." She said as she met Bovin straight in the eye, "I thought that that would have been obvious by now."

He nodded his head as he stroked his beard.

"That it has, that it has. That is why separation has come to our minds."

"No, please…" she started but he waved her off.

"Your desire to escape is of course fuelled by your desire to protect your child and family and possibly yourself. Your escape attempts – along with your father's inability to move very fast or any given day – has slowed us down considerably, so a solution to our problem has been thought up. We separate you from your child."

"How will that help?" Bilbo cried as she clutched Frodo to her with one arm and held Sting underneath Bovin's nose with the other, "If you do that I will be only become even more determined to escape. In fact by separating me from my child you will only be helping my escape as I will have nothing tying me back to you."

"Ah, but if we separate you from your child and family, how will you know where they are? How will you know how to find them?"

Bilbo felt her heart drop down to her toes.

"I will find them." She whispered threw gritted teeth.

"Will you though?"

She glared up at him, hating him with every fibre of her body.

She tightened her grip on Sting, wishing she could simply drive her little blade straight through Bovin's smug smile.

"I will, just watch me. And then I will make you wish you had never stepped foot in my hobbit hole. That you had never entered the Shire at all! I told you before that I have powerful friends Bovin and I'm sure, once I tell them what you have done, they will be only too happy to help me make you pay." She snarled and for a moment she felt powerful, felt in control as she watched his smirk slip for the first time and for a moment, he looked afraid. But only for a moment as the next she was being seized from behind, Sting wrestled from her grasp. But she cared not for the loss of her little blade but rather for her child who was wretched from her side.

"MAMA!"

"No! Give him back! Give him back!" She didn't care that she was screaming, begging, as she struggled against the arms that held her.

"Give him back! Please! Give him back!" She struggled and fought, biting, scratching and kicking as she watched her son being pulled away from her, away from her and to where the rest of her family were being ushered down another path in the mountain. They were looking back at her in horror and confusion.

"Please." She looked at Bovin, her eyes begging, "please, I won't run, I won't fight, I'll obey everything you say but don't take him from me, please."

The dwarf let out a bark of laughter before yelling out a few more commands as his party broke into two.

Bilbo felt tears roll down her cheeks as she watched her child fight and scream as he was dragged away from her. Her only consolation was that Radin was with him and after a few moments had swung her screaming child into his arms and held him close as her lad kept on crying out for her.

"MAMA!"

Words by now had all but failed her and all she could do was kneel – her captors had sensed that her fight and fire had all but left her and so had let her be – and sob heart-wrenching sobs.

"Up you get Miss Baggins," she wasn't sure how long she had sat there when she felt large, kind hands lift her up and that she was suddenly being carried as if she was a small child again.

"Ranon?"

"Yes, miss." She nodded numbly, her tears had all dried up and her throat and chest hurt from her sobs but otherwise she was numb, numb to everything. She didn't bother opening her eyes as she lay her head against the boy's wide, hard shoulder.

"I'm never going to see them again, am I? My child or family?" She felt the boy hesitated as they continued to move.

"I-I don't know, miss."

"That's a no, isn't it?" she whispered through white lips, "I thought as much, feared as much. Will they be killed? My family, I mean?"

"No, I don't- don't believe so. My brother, he wouldn't allow it."

"But you will allow for me to die?" she asked with a humourless laugh.

She felt the boy stiffen and felt immediately sorry for speaking such harsh words.

"I'm sorry, forgive me." she paused as she took a deep breath, "why haven't you gone with your brother" and my child was left unspoken between them.

"Bovin wouldn't – he didn't allow for it. Radin, he almost didn't go until he heard that you and your lad would be separated, he thought it best if he went." Bilbo gave a tiny nod of her head, she appreciated that.

"When you see him again, thank him for me. But may I ask where they are being taken?" please, don't let it be a worse place than whenever I am being taken, please Mahal, I beg of you.

Ranon hesitated again before speaking in a low tone, for her ears only.

"S'pose no harm in telling you, not now. Erebor, is where you lad and family are being taken, to be bargain with the King with."

"Oh." Was all Bilbo could think to say before all of her strength left her and she fell into a numb slumber.

Erebor, her son was being taken to Erebor. Oh Thorin, be kind, be gentle, please look at Frodo, not as the bastard son of the burglar who betrayed you but as the son you always wanted from the woman who loves you more than life itself.

Kili, Ori, Bifur and Bofur protect my child. You all promised that you would. If Thorin refuses to see him or acknowledge him, one of you… no Bofur take him, raise him as your own. I know you will, you love him like he's your own son; I know that you will raise him well, if Thorin fails to accept him.

Much confused was to be had that night when camp was called and the hobbit wench was placed down from Ranon's shoulders and on to a blanket. Many dwarves muttered under their breaths at the wench's queer smile as she slept. None could wake her from her slumber and no shaking could remove the smile from her lips.

"Leave her be." Bovin snorted, "the wench will wake when she wakes. And she can go hungry for all the trouble she has caused us too."

So she and her queer smile were left alone, for the dwarves to ponder and not understand. And none of them would until it was too late.

Chapter Text

Unconventional Brothers

Frodo's throat ached from all the screaming and crying he had been doing for the last few days. A part of him feels silly for acting like such a baby with all his screaming and tears but given that he had just been forcibly removed from his mother's side, with no indication as to when he would see her again, he felt he had every right for screaming and crying his head off. Only now his face stung due to wind blistering his tear streaked cheeks, his throat was raw and his eyes were red and itchy.

He rubbed the heel of his hand across his raw eyes, sniffling a little still.

"Hey, don't do that." Frodo pulled his hand away from his face to glare half-heartedly up at the person leaning over him, looking down at him with concerned muddy brown eyes.

"Why not?" Frodo grumbled as he purposely lift his hand back to his face and started to rub again.

"Now come on." A large brown hand gently caught hold of his wrist and pulled his hand away from his face. Frodo fought the urge to kick the oversize dwarf.

"Come on, you'll be hurting your eyes with all the rubbing you've been doing of them." Radin chide gently as he pulled him into his lap.

"Don't care. They itch."

"They itch because you've been crying." Radin replied his tone gentle and sympathetic.

"Course I been crying," Frodo hiccupped, wiggling angrily in Radin's lap, "you took me away from Mama! I want Mama!"

"I know mim ze, I know." Frodo twisted in Radin's lap, a scowl written all of his face as he cried.

"I'm not little."

Radin looked at him incredulously.

"You understand Khuzdul?"

Frodo shrugged his thin shoulders impatiently.

"A little. Mama taught me some, so did Gandy and my uncles."

"Gandy?"

"Gandalf."

"Oh, do you know what his name is in Khuzdul?" Radin asked curiously. He had never met Gandalf the Grey but he had heard a lot about him from his grandfather and from people – dwarrows, men and elves – all over the land talk about him.

An old man dressed in grey, with a staff made out a twisted tree branch. He did not look like much apparently, but in a sticky situation, you wanted him at your side.

"Yes," Frodo said as he puff out his chest proudly. "Tharkûn. And Mithrandir is his name in Sindarin."

"I didn't know that." Radin admitted sheepishly while Frodo only beamed more widely back at him.

"Have you ever met Gandalf?" Frodo asked. Radin shook his head.

"Well, my mama is a very good friend of his, so he'll be really and truly mad when he finds out about all this."

"I bet he will." Radin replied with a groan, pinching his nose as he tried not curse his ill luck in front of the youngster.

"But I won't let him be mad at you Radin, I promise." Frodo said softly as he gently touched his cheek with one of his tiny hand.

Radin gave the little boy a forced smile while his inside did somersaults and backflips. He had been wreck with guilt and worry ever since the company had broken in two groups. He hadn't wanted this, for the group to be split into two. He hadn't wanted to be separated from his younger brother who was now travelling to the arranged meeting place between Bovin and Bzog with Frodo's mother and Bovin. He hadn't wanted Frodo to be separated from his mother, but really, it was for the best, for if Frodo had stayed with her, then he would be killed alongside his mama.

At least now, heading to Erebor, the boy and the rest of his family might have a chance, a chance to live and be safe. For despite the whispers Radin had heard spoken around the campfire after the hobbits had fallen asleep about the Durin King will most likely have the hobbits killed for some past crime that one of their kin committed against him a few years passed, Radin doubted that he actually would.

Of course Radin might be completely wrong and the King might just do exactly that, but from what he had heard of the Durin King, he sounded like a fair and justice dwarf and if anyone was going to have their heads rolling because of him, it was going to be them.

Radin shuddered at the thought. He was rather attached to his head and had no wish to loss it.

Not that we don't deserve any less, he thought dully.

"Radin?"

"Hmmm? What is it?"

The boy looked up at him with big blue eyes that reminded Radin of sapphires.

"Are we really going to Erebor?"

"Ah, yes, I believe so."

The boy brighten for some reason. It took Radin a moment to remember that the boy might actually be the son of the Durin King who ruled from within Erebor's great rock walls. Not that he was sure the boy actually knew this. But hadn't he said something about dwarven uncles?

"You have uncles, who live there, don't you?"

"I think so." Frodo cheeks turned a little red beneath his wind blisters, "I've heard them and mama talking about Erebor b'fore, but they've also said Eren Luid. So…" the boy trailed off weakly, his eyes turning hopeless.

"They might be in Erebor." Radin reassured his young charge.

"Yes, they might!" the hopelessness left Frodo's eyes as quickly as it had appeared and a fierce fire suddenly burned brightly within the sapphire orbs. "And they will find Mama and kill Bovin and make everything right again!"

"Kill me and Ranon too." Radin muttered under his breath, not meaning for the little one to hear, only as proven many times before these little hobbit or hobarf in this case had sharp little ears so the lad heard his words and his small face twisted in distress.

"No. no, no, no, I won't let them! I won't let them kill you and Ranon. You're my friends! Mama's friends! They wouldn't kill mine and mama's friends!"

"Friends don't kidnap each another mim ze." Radin muttered, picking up a stone on the edge of the road and threw it angrily at an old, decrepit tree.

They were out of the mountains now and were heading north, towards Ered Mithrin so as to not pass through the dreaded Mirkwood. From the Ered Mithrin they would head south east. Moving far too close to the Iron Hills for Radin's liking, if only because he knew that the Lord of the Iron Hills was a cousin and friend of Thorin Oakenshield, the supposed sire of the child sitting in his lap.

Radin sighed heavily, his chin coming to rest on Frodo's dark curls and the pair stared miserably back at the Misty Mountains.

"Lad. Lad." Radin woke with a start as a gentle but firm hand shook him awake. He could hear Frodo grumbling in his lap as the lad curled in closer to his chest as he continued to sleep.

Radin rubbed his eyes and blinked up in the dim light – was it evening or early morning, he couldn't tell – at the dwarf who had shaken him awake.

"Hoggle? What is it?" Radin asked as he blinked blearily at the dwarf standing beside him. Hoggle wasn't, in fact, the dwarf's real name but it might as well be, people were always calling him that. Radin knew him by no other name. Radin doubted that Hoggle even remembered the name that his mother gave him at his birth if only because Ranon asked him once at the beginning of their mission and the dwarf had looked at him blankly before taking a large swig of some foul smelling drink from his hip flask.

"We're moving out." The old dwarf stated with a shrug of his stiff shoulders, "Dagan wants to be well clear of these parts of the mountains by midday. Wake the little lad or carry him, we leave once we've finish our fast."

"What of the other hobbits?" Radin asked.

Hoggle sighed heavily.

"They've quieted down some, though they're still not happy." Hoggle rolled his bright blue eyes, his heavily lined face grimacing. "Obviously."

"Obviously."

"The old one has perked up a little. His mind seems to have returned some to him."

"Good." Radin said as he pushed himself carefully up the rock that he had been leaning against, so as not to disturb the still slumbering boy in his arms.

"Sooner we get these lot to Erebor, the sooner we get home, lad." Hoggle said as the two strode to the campfire.

"Yeah…" Radin said softly as he looked at the slumbering boy in his arms.

He closed his eyes at the thought of where the boy's mother was heading. His brother as well. Why had Bovin split them up? Why?

As much as he was happy to be caring for the little lad, he was frightened as to what fate awaited his little brother.

Please Mahal, protect him. Please.

The sun was high in the sky when Radin's party called a halt by a shallow river and it was decided that they were all in high need of a bath.

The hobbits as usual were less incline to go along with any suggestion that was made by a dwarf but after one dwarf threaten - teasingly, Radin would like to add, though the Halflings' didn't appear to see the difference between teasing and true threats when it came to dwarves. But given the state of their situation, Radin didn't half blame them for being a bit wary of the dwarves, even though the dwarves who made up this party were far more mild-mannered and had only come along for the venture due to their desperate need of money – to throw them into the river.

It appeared only two of the Halflings knew how to swim and so these two were, once they were convinced that the dwarves weren't going to try and drown them, in the water and splashing about rather quickly. The other two stared at the water with great distrust before finally being convinced by their younger kin to come in only to their knees while the dwarves looked on, laughing good naturedly at their cautious nature.

Radin it seemed had once again been landed with the hardiest job in all the company which involved trying to convince young Frodo that having a bath was a good idea.

The lad was very, very much against going near the water. Or rather, he seemed to be very reluctant to take his shirt off at the very least, the hems of which he clutched tightly in his little fist as he shook his black curls, snapping no and running away every time Radin came close to snagging him.

"No! Radin, no!"

"But Frodo why not? You don't want to be the only one still being smelly once we start moving again, do you?"

The nine year old glared nastily up at him for speaking to him as if he was just a little babe. Though, by dwarf standards the lad would still be considered little more than a baby. By a humans standards, he would be considered a few years short of being considered an adult and would already be helping out with the family business.

He had no idea how hobbits' aged, though he vaguely knew from what he had overheard from the hobbit family that a hobbit came of age at thirty-three. An odd age, in Radin's mind at least, for anyone to be finally considered an adult, but who was he to question another race about their way of life?

"Frodo," He lowered himself to a crouch and looked the little boy straight into his sapphire blue eyes.

The boy stared back at him with hard eyes, unrelenting, refusing to back down.

"It's just a little water, a bit chilly, I'll grant you, but nothing that will hurt you mim ze."

"I'm not afraid of water." Frodo muttered as he dug a larger than normal toe into the soft soil.

"Then what is it? The cold?"

"I promised Mama…" the lad trailed off and looked away from Radin and the river and towards the mountains, in the direction that his mother might be in.

"What did you promise her? To be the smelliest little Hobarf around?" Frodo shook his head, his little face pulled into a frown.

"Dwobbit."

"Huh?" Radin cocked his head to one side curiously.

"Dwobbit. I'm a Dwobbit. Not Hobarf. A Dwobbit."

"Alright then." Radin said with a slow nod of his head as he registered just how serious the boy was about the matter. It reminded him of how Ranon had been about their mixed blood before he built his impenetrable wall around him.

"I'm sure your Mama didn't make you promise to be the smelliest Dwobbit in all the land. In fact, I do believe that would go against her contract of being a mother."

Frodo giggled letting Radin believe that they were finally getting somewhere. He moved a little closer only for the boy to dart a few more steps away from him, his face once more guarded.

"Frodo." Radin groaned.

"I can't."

"Can't? Can't what? Have a bath? Sure you can?"

Frodo pulled a face.

"It's not the bath, it's…" his fists twisted tighter within the hem of his shirt.

Radin thought he saw a gleam of silver in the sunlit around the boy's collar.

"Come on," Radin said gently, "whatever it is, I promise not to tell anyone."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart or Mahal will smash his hammer down upon me."

Still the little lad hesitated before creeping forward to stand in front of him.

"You can't tell anyone. Promise that you won't." Frodo said in an earnest whisper, "Mama says I couldn't tell a soul about this or it will be taken from me and I won't be kept safe anymore."

Radin nodded slowly, unsure what this was all about until Frodo unbutton his shirt and revealed a stunning shirt of sliver rings.

"Mithril." Radin whispered, struck dumb.

The boy shift uncomfortably under his amazed gaze forcing Radin to snap out of his awe struck stupor.

"Where did you get this?"

"Mama had it in her wardrobe. Before that she had it hidden in a chest with Sting and other things that she brought back from her venture."

"Ah." Radin mumbled as he continued to stare in awe at the shiny mail shirt, "a present from her dwarves?"

"I think so." Frodo said slowly, "I'm not sure, none of my uncles mention it whenever they come to visit." He plucked at the shiny mail, nibbling on his bottom lip as he did so, "maybe… maybe my…"

"Maybe your papa gave it to her." Radin finished him causing the lad to blush but there was a hopeful looking in his blue eyes.

"Maybe. She never talks about him." Frodo mutter his eyes turning dark.

"Never?" Radin pressed gently.

The little lad shook his head.

"Well… maybe not never." Frodo mused, "But I know very little about him. I don't even know his name."

"He isn't one of the dwarves your mother travelled with?"

"I-I don't know. I mean, mama's told me all about her dwarves, but-but she never told me which was my papa."

"She told you about every single one of them?" Radin asked as he carefully pulled off Frodo's cotton shirt and then mithril one, quickly tucking it within his other shirt – he stuff both shirts carefully within one his jackets large pockets – and then the boy's trousers so that he was know only in his under-things before he lifted the lad up into his arms. He could feel the other hobbits watching him closely as he carried Frodo to river's edge.

Radin waded into the cool water with Frodo settled on his hip, grinning as lad yelped and squirmed on his hip when the water came to his waist.

Radin could see the two braver hobbits were swimming close by, watching him intently but seemed to relax when Frodo waved at them before splashing his hands and feet in the clear water.

"Frodo?"

"Hmmm? Oh yes, she did. I know all about them from her and my uncles, cos my uncles were some of the dwarves that went with her." Frodo grinned widely.

"But none of them are…"

"Nah. I thought that one of them was, maybe, but he and mama are just good friends."

"How do you know?"

"I asked him."

"Ah." Radin said wincing slightly at the blunt manner the lad used when answering his question. He could just imagine the boy using the same bluntness when determining if one of his mother's dwarf friends were his father. "And what did he say?"

"He just smiled at me sadly, ruffled my hair and said no, he wasn't my adad." Frodo said with a small sigh.

"Did you ask him if he knows your adad?"

"He didn't say but Mama says that he and the others know my papa. That they will come with me when I'm to meet him when I'm older."

"When you're of age?"

Frodo shrugged as he trailed his fingers in the water.

"I guess."

"Long time to wait to meet ones papa." Radin mused as Frodo pulled a face before looking up at Radin questioningly.

"Do you know your papa?"

Radin tried to keep his face blank as dark emotions raged within.

"Yes, I did." Radin said stiffly causing the little boy to look startled by his sudden change of mood.

"Didn't you like him?"

"I liked him just fine, it just…" Radin fought to keep himself in check, to stop himself before he lashed out at this innocent child.

Radin closed his eyes, counting slowly under his breath until he regained his calm.

"I liked him a lot," he started again. "He was a good father, the best actually, given the circumstance." He sighed softly, "he was a good man and he wouldn't be very proud of me, not for the choices I've made."

"So," Frodo said softly, clearly choosing his words carefully, "your papa is of the race of men and you mama…"

"Is a dwarrowdam, yeah."

"So, we're brothers." Frodo said brightly while Radin stared at him incredulously.

"Sort of." Frodo add with a sheepish smile.

"How in Mahal's name did you come to that conclusion mim ze?"

"Well, ah." Frodo stuttered, his face scrunched as he thought deeply over his proclamation of them being brothers, "we both have dwarves as a parent but a member of another race as out other parent. So we're not true dwarves."

"Thanks for reminding me." Radin muttered though Frodo continued on as if he hadn't heard him.

"We're both halves of the same race and due to that we don't fit in anywhere, which makes us family."

"Eh…" Radin stared at the little boy in bemusement.

"Mama wouldn't mind if you and Ranon became my brothers."

"My mother wouldn't mind either, but if you told her your reasoning for us being brothers she would understand it even less than me."

"We're family; families don't have to make sense." Frodo informed him wisely causing Radin to laugh.

"I'll say. I mean, look at us for example, we shouldn't even exist." Frodo smiled and nodded.

"Radin!" Radin and Frodo looked towards the bank where most of the dwarves and the hobbits now saw, drying themselves after their chilly bath. Hoggle was standing closest to the water and calling to them, "Are you and the lad actually cleaning yourself or just standing there? We'll be moving on soon."

"Alright." Radin said and then with a cheeky smirk, he threw the squealing dwobbit into the water. Frodo's head broke the surface of the water with a great series of spluttering.

"Why you do that for?!" the boy all but screamed back at him.

Radin grin only grew wider as he walked over to the little boy and lifted him out of the water.

"You said that we were brothers."

"Yes?" Frodo said eyeing him suspiciously from beneath his water log curls.

"Well," Radin drawled as he made to throw Frodo again, "this is what brother do!" the boy let out another squeal but this time it was filled with delight as he soared through the air before making a great splash in the river.

"You - you be careful with-with 'im." Radin looked back at the river bank in surprise to see the old hobbit – who had been slowly coming back to his own mind – watching them closely with a worried expression on his warn, pale face.

"I'm fine Grandpapa." Frodo cried as he dog-paddle back to Radin to be thrown again. The old hobbit seemed to be reassured a little but it didn't stop him from watching them closely as they played around in the water and as soon as they came out, Frodo was immediately snared by his grandfather and cousins (or were they his uncles? Radin was exactly sure what relations the three other hobbit had with the lad.).

Radin returned the lad's clothes to him and the boy quickly pulled them on once he had sufficiently dried himself.

They didn't get particularly far that day, but the mood was reasonably good that no one minded. They weren't in as a great a hurry as Bovin and the rest of their company were, so the dwarves were far happier to take longer rests during the day than they had been previously.

That night, the air was almost jolly, feeling more like they were on friendly venture than one of a much darker tone.

Frodo stayed close to Radin's side every chance he got. Whenever his grandfather or cousins forgot to keep him in their circle, he was by Radin's side asking questions about his family and where in Middle-Earth he had travelled and other such questions that only a child could ask and get away with without being considered an annoyance. And Radin didn't mind. The lad reminded him of Ranon when he was younger and before the darkness and hate crept in to his heart.

Radin prayed to Mahal that the same darkness and hate would not creep into the little Dwobbit. He prayed that the dwarves of Erebor would claim him and accept him and maybe, just maybe they would find it in their hearts to go and save the lad's mother from the evil clutches of Bzog.

Chapter Text

Weeks had passed, maybe even a month, since Frodo had last seen his mother. At least it felt like a month to Frodo. The days and nights seemed to merge together in the young Dwobbit's mind and in truth he didn't care. He just wanted his mother back.

He walked miserably beside Radin who was now his constant companion, something he knew his grandpapa and cousins weren't entirely happy about but they had learned to keep their mouths shut about their silly disapproval of his large friend after he refused to eat or speak until they allowed him to spend time with Radin.

He knew it was childish of him but he found it was easier to be with Radin than his family.

Being with his family reminded him keenly of who was missing, his most important family member of all, his mother. Being with Radin, while the pain of his mother lost was still there, it wasn't so obvious and painful. Radin helped him forget for a time that his mother was not with him and of the fact that he might just never see her again. That thought just made his chest hurt and made him want to cry like a little baby so he tried not to think about his mother and instead focused more on what Radin was trying to teach him with the little blade that he had lent him.

He was clumsy with it at first but he quickly got the hang of it. He was quick to learn his parries and blocks and he could disarm all who took an interest in his training. His only problem, his only true weakness was his feet.

He was quick on them, no problem there, but if he got too involved in his training, didn't think where he was putting them he quickly found himself with a face full of dirt.

"Stupid feet." He growled angrily as he glared miserably at his large feet that weren't quite so large as other hobbit lads' his age but larger than those of dwarves of a similar body structure to him.

"They are a bit of hindrance, aren't they lad." Hoggle said as he strode over to him as Frodo pulled himself to his feet.

"Yes." Frodo growled wincing as he took a step, trying to keep from yelping.

"Easy Laddie. I think you've burst another blister." Hoggle said as he coaxed Frodo to sit back down so that he check the state of his feet.

Normally one of his cousins would check them for him but as they weren't currently close by Frodo allowed for the dwarf to handle his feet even though his first instinct was to kick him. Hobbits – like dwarves with their beards – were very sensitive as to who touched their feet and they didn't just let anyone handle them.

"Aye, another blister has popped." Hoggle said and Frodo grimaced as he took in the sight of blood and pus running down the sole of his right foot.

"You'll need to get yerself some boots laddie." Hoggle said as he stripped the dirty bandages from Frodo's other foot and pulled some fresh bandages from his pocket.

"Mama was thinking of getting me some boots but I've never had blisters as bad as these before." Frodo grumbled, wincing as Hoggle rub some foul smelling ointment onto the bottom of his foot, stinging the blisters and cuts that were there.

"I can well believe you didn't, in that pretty green land of yours but out here in the wild," Hoggle shook his head, "when we get to Erebor you'll be given some boots." He said with a smile.

"Will I?" Frodo asked cautiously.

"Of course you will lad." Hoggle said gently, "you'll be taken care of in Erebor. They're better dwarves than we are." Hoggle smiled sadly as he moved on to tend Frodo's left foot.

"How do you know? They might be just as bad as Bovin and the others? Or worse!" Frodo whispered softly, fear creeping into his voice.

Hoggle gave him a sympathetic look.

"I doubt it laddie. They will treat you well and will probably go after Bovin to retrieve your mama, knowing them."

"Do you know them?" Frodo asked curiously.

"No, not personally." Hoggle shook his white head, "But I know enough about them from hearsay and the grapevine to know that King Thorin the second is an honourable dwarf who will not be pleased by what Bovin – and the rest of us – have done."

"My mama knows him." Frodo perked up with a grin.

"Hmmm?"

"King Thorin. My mama knows him. At least I think it's him she knows-knew. Thorin Oakenshield?"

"Aye, that's his name." Hoggle said with a nod of his head, while privately thinking that the hobbit lass had known the King very well if the whispered rumours about the little lad in front of him were to be believed. And well, while Hoggle had never been one to partake in rumours or believing the ones he heard without some kind of evidence, he was more than willing to lean towards believing this one, if only because the lad resemblance to the Durin King was unquestionable.

"Then he'll help. He'll help get mama back. He owes her so he has to. Uncle Kili told me that Thorin owes Mama his life several times over so he has to help. He has to!"

"Aye, lad." Hoggle said while his mind boggled at the idea that the lad knew the King's nephew without even understanding or knowing the relation shared between him and the King. "Dwarves take life debts very seriously. The king will have to fulfil his debt to your mother or the line of Durin will be cursed. And as the line has only just gotten over their last curse, I very much doubt the king will willing bring upon them another curse. He will rescue your mother, you'll see."

Frodo beamed in delight for a moment before it altered and he suddenly looked worried again.

"But-but Mama-mama thinks that he's behind this. That he asked Bovin to kidnap us. How can I ask someone who may have wanted us kidnapped to help Mama?"

"Lad… lad." Hoggle placed his hands upon the shoulders of the babbling lad who was starting to work himself into a panic. "The Durin King wasn't behind this. He knows nothing of this. Do not think ill of him when he has done no known wrong to you."

"All-alright." Frodo mumbled with a small nod.

"C'mon, up we get. Your family is probably worried about you." Hoggle carefully lifted the boy on to his feet, watching his face closely as he grimaced as he put pressure upon the raw soles of his feet.

Wincing Frodo limped back to where his Grandfather and cousins were sitting by the fire. They fussed over him, scolding him half-heartedly about his desire to learn how to fight, especially from the people who had taken them from their homes in the first place.

Frodo curled up by Paladin's side and closed his eyes, allowing for sleep to take over his tired mind.

He dreamed of a huge dark mountain standing alone in a plain, a huge lake in the distance and beyond that dark forest.

He knew what this mountain was called now while as a toddler he had not. Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, the destination for this journey. He dreamed of dwarves digging for gold and gems far beneath the great roots of the mountain. He dreamed of a stone that's beauty outshone all other jewels. He dreamed of his mother holding the very stone in her hands as she stood in front of elves and men, her eyes desperate and her lips moving, speaking frantic words that he could not hear. He dreamed of her being shaken by a large and majestic dwarf, whose fury was far more terrifying than the dragon that had once inhabited Erebor before he was shot down by Bard, the bowman.

Frodo wanted to cry out for the large, dark haired dwarf to leave his mother alone, that she had been only trying to help, to save them from the danger they were in, the danger that he had in inadvertently put them in.

But before he could get the words out, his dream changed to dreams more suited to a child his age and he was able to sleep without disturbance for the rest of the night.

Frodo woke with a strange prickling sensation running through his body. It was similar to the feelings he had felt back home in the Shire but less dangerous, less frightening. Something was coming, nothing that he should fear but simply something that he should simply be aware of.

"You alright Frodo?" Saradoc asked as he ruffled Frodo's black curls as they got ready for the day's march.

"Hmmm? Ah, yes Uncle Saradoc. I'm fine." He smiled up at his uncle before wandering over to where Radin was pulling on his pack.

"Hello there. How's your feet?" Radin asked as he swung his back up and onto his back.

Frodo shrugged his shoulders. His feet ached but after so many weeks of them aching he was growing used to the pain.

"Hoggle says that we'll be able to probably see the Lonely Mountain tonight when we reach our next campsite." Radin said as they started walking, matching his long legged stride to Frodo's short ones.

"Really?"

"Uh huh." Frodo grinned at the thought though it did stir strange and complicated feelings within his gut.

They marched for about an hour before Frodo's poor feet pained him too much to walk. Without a word of complaint Radin swung him up and onto his shoulders, saying cheerfully that Frodo had the job of group lookout which of course was very important job as it was his task to warn the group if they were about to be attacked from any direction and to identify exactly what it was that was about to attack the group.

Frodo took the job very seriously, only… it was rather boring when most of the time all you were looking at were Mountains on your west side, forest on your east, more mountains ranges in front of you and same went for behind you.

It was an important job but boring one and his curious mind tended to wander away from his task whenever he saw a hare running through the grass or a hawk over head – which he always imagined to be a great eagle from his mama's adventure. He didn't mean to lose interest in his task and for his mind to wander or be distracted, it just sort of happened.

But he did let out a startled squeal before the strange dwarves jumped them if that counted for anything.

The attack was sudden and out of nowhere. One moment they were marching along happily and the next they had dwarves dressed in impressive armour surrounding them with sharp swords and axes.

In one movement Radin had swung Frodo from his shoulders, pushed him behind him as he heft his great hammer into a defensive position.

"Stand down." One of the armoured dwarves growled,

"And why should we? We have done no wrong? You are the ones who attacked us!" Divil, the dwarf who was missing his right eye cried though Frodo could see that he was sweating heavily from beneath his heavy black beard

"We have information that you are in league with the traitor Bovin. We are to bring you before King Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain and Lord Dain of the Iron Hills to meet their fair judgement."

"Can you see Bovin anywhere here? You are accusing us of association with a traitor when you have no proof!" Divil snapped.

"So you are all just taking a leisurely trip through uninhabited and dangerous mountains, far away from any main roads, far from any eyes, simply because…" The armoured dwarf, Frodo was guessing he was a captain of some kind. His red beard glinted in the dull afternoon light from beneath his iron helmet.

"We're lost sir." Divil said, sounding sincerely sheepish, "we became lost during a great storm and we turned off the main roads somewhere in the mountains. For the last week or so we've been trying to find our way."

"And where does your way lead?" the captain asked. Frodo could see that he didn't believe a word of what Divil was saying but seemed to be content to play along.

Divil hesitated for a moment, glancing at his fellow dwarves before muttering the word Erebor. The captain smiled a thin smile.

"Well then friend, you are in luck for we ourselves are heading back for Erebor right this very moment, we can escort you there."

Divil's face lost all colour beneath his beard while others in the company muttered uneasily.

"Oh wonderful, more dwarves!" Frodo glanced over to where his least favourite cousin was standing, glaring furiously at the newcomers.

"Who are you?" The captain asked as he looked over Lotho and the three other hobbits sharply, "or more importantly what are you?"

"They're Halflings, of no importance sir." Divil started to but was interrupted by the angry cries of Frodo's three cousins.

"No importance! No importance!" Three hobbits were crying as one, "You force us to leave our homes, to travel over treacherous lands and mountains, give us little to no food and you say we have little importance! Let us go and return us to our homeland then!"

"Don't forget about Mama!" Frodo yelled over his cousins' cries. Adding his own two penny's as his grandfather would say if he was in a better state of mind.

"Yes," Saradoc cried, his hands placed on his hips and scowled furiously at all the dwarves present, "Not only have you stolen us from our home, you have harmed one of our kin and have forcibly separated her from her son and family."

"Is that so?" The captain said softly as he looked from Frodo's cousins and grandfather to Frodo himself, his brows raising as he looked Frodo up and down.

"Yes, it is." Paladin exclaimed hotly, "And we demanded for things to be set right this instance."

"I don't know about being able to set things right this very moment, little ones." The captain said carefully, almost gently, "I fear that might be beyond my power at this very moment, but if you will allow, we will take you to Erebor and you will be able to speak you case to the King."

"Will he rescue my Mama?" Frodo cried and the captain was once more glancing at him with a curious, almost suspicious expression on his face.

"Who is your Amam, mim ze?"

"Billanna Baggins. My name is Frodo." Frodo said as he stepped around Radin who mumbled unhappily and shadowed Frodo as he moved to stand in front of the captain.

"Baggins?" The captain's bushy red eyebrows forwarded, clearly trying to place a name that he had heard before in passing.

"You've probably heard her being called Bilbo, that's her nickname." Frodo explained quickly.

"The Arkenstone thief?" The captain cried out in shock and Frodo jumped back into Radin's legs, who laid a protective arm around him.

"She was a burglar, yes." Frodo squeaked, ignoring the puzzled looks his family was shotting him. He knew that his mama had never fully explained her role within the company of Thorin Oakenshield.

The captain leaned forward and peered into Frodo's face closely.

"Seems she burgled more than just our greatest treasure." The captain muttered and Frodo felt Radin's arm tighten around his chest.

The captain lifted his head to stare up at Radin wearing an unreadable expression on his face.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Radin, sir. Radin son of Runira."

"And your father's name, boy?"

Radin hesitated.

"Don't see why that's important sir. I gave you my mother's name, is that not good enough?"

"No." The captain said bluntly, "your father's name boy?"

Radin sighed heavily.

"Williem, sir. My father's name was Williem." Radin mumbled.

"Human name."

"Yes, sir."

The captain nodded thoughtfully.

"Protective of the lad here, aren't you?"

"Yes sir."

"Won't let any harm befall him, will you?"

"I'll protect him with my life, sir."

The captain nodded again before striding to the front of the company, his face stern.

"I am Aivion son of Aiviel. I am a Captain of the Royal Guard, sent by King Thorin Oakenshield, to find Bovin son of Brovin and bring him to face justice in Erebor. Even though, as you previously said, I have no proof that you are in league with the traitor, the Halflings have spoken of other laws you have broken and so we will still be bringing you stand before the king."

The dwarves around Frodo swallowed heavily but none raised a word of protest as the armoured dwarves – soldiers, that was the word for them – forced them to march two by two with a soldier marching on either side of the line.

"Radin!" Radin and Frodo jumped as they both looked towards Aivion who stood at the front of the line, "Lad, bring the Halflings to the front. You got the little one? Good." Radin hesitated a moment but quickly had Frodo on his shoulders once more while he herded the rest of the hobbits to the front of the line. They moved there with little protest, even the bloody Lotho was keeping his mouth shut for once.

Once Aivion was satisfied with the line up, he barked out the order for them to march. They moved a lot more loudly than they had before due to all the armour the dwarf soldiers wore, but Frodo couldn't help but admire how the sun glinted and shone off the helmets and breast plates that the dwarves wore.

They were taking him to Erebor! He knew that the dwarves had been planning on taking him to Erebor but these dwarf soldiers were going to take him to the KING! The King under the Mountain! He could help Mama, he had to, he….

The Arkenstone thief…. What did that mean? Aivion had said it as if it were a bad thing, so-so maybe…

A cold feeling start curling around his gut. If Aivion thought his mother bad then what did the King under the Mountain think? Would he help him find her? Or would he decide not to because she was an Arkenstone thief? Whatever that was. No wait… he closed his eyes as he heard his mother's soft voice singing his lullaby.

`Till this day our hearts have yearned

Her fate unknown the Arkenstone

What was stolen must be returned.'

As his mother's voice sang within his head, he saw a globe with a thousand facets; it shone like silver in the firelight, like water in the burning sun, like snow under stars, like rain upon the moon. These descriptions were spoken in his mind by a voice that Frodo had never heard before, but was as familiar to him as his mother's or grandfather's voices were. He realised that he had dreamed of this pretty stone before, of his mother holding it even.

Had his mother really stolen it from the King? Why would she? Hadn't she and the King under the Mountain been friends?

Frodo's head hurt from his thoughts. He wanted his mama, with her arms around him, telling him stories or singing to him. He wanted them home, safe and sound.

He laid his head down upon the top of Radin's head and sniff, tears trickling down his cheeks. He brushed his tears away from his cheeks impatiently but he left his head laid upon Radin's head and once more closed his eyes and tried to sleep, despite his pounding head.

He was asleep in moments.

Chapter Text

Frodo stared up at the Lonely Mountain in amazement. It was huge! Bigger than he had ever imagined it could ever be. Neither his dreams nor his mother's stories had done the great, lone mountain the justice that it so deserved for its grand size.

The Misty Mountains had, of course, been huge, but there were a great many of them while this mountain stood all by itself out in front of him was-was something else all together!

"Impressed mim ze?" Aivion asked, smirking up at him from where Frodo was once more seated upon Radin's shoulders.

Frodo was too speechless to speak so he simply nodded his head, his mouth hanging open a little. He was pleased – once he has regained a little composure – to see that his grandfather and cousins were looking at the huge, lone mountain with similar stunned expressions as his own.

"Come, I wish to get there before nightfall and hopefully without too many people seeing us." Aivion rumbled as he straighten his pack on his back, signalling for his troops to pick up their pace.

"Why?" Frodo called to him from the top of Radin's shoulders as the company start marched along at an even greater pace than before.

"Why mim ze?" Aivion called back over his shoulder to him.

"Why don't you want anyone to see us?"

Aivion looked back and up at him thoughtfully.

"It would just be better for us to get to the mountain without being noticed by any humans or elves. Even dwarves." He added with an oddly cautious note to his voice that Frodo didn't truly understand.

"Oh…" Frodo said. He leant forward to look down at Radin's face in confusion.

Radin simply shrugged beneath him.

Frodo noticed that his big friend looked quite nervous and unhappy as they moved closer and closer to the mountain, taking care to stay on the less well-used road heading towards the great mountain, away from the larger, bustling main road the wound its way from the shores of Long Lake to the very roots of the Lonely Mountain. The road that they were currently travelling upon was one of the many roads that had been created between the Lonely Mountain and the Iron Hills. It was a road of a time long gone by, a time before Smaug the Terrible and had not yet been restored for the smooth travelling of carts and wagons, so it was hardly ever used and they saw not a soul upon it as they marched briskly towards the Lonely Mountains roots.

Aivion's prediction that they would reach the mountain before nightfall were indeed correct and Frodo felt sure that his eyes would surely fall out of their sockets as he desperately tried to take in every single detail of the great mountain before him, with its great stone statues standing proudly on either side of the grand entrance.

He could only just catch glimpses of their grandness from the direction that they were coming from but even so, his mother's description and his own dreams of the mountain, he was still in awe of what little he saw of the Kings of Old, the Guardians at the Gate.

Much to Frodo's disappointment they did not enter the mountain via its great and majestic front gates– and he had so wanted a closer look at those great statues, to see just how accurate his dreams were of them. As well as maybe getting a good look at the everyday dwarves that were clearly returning from a successful day of trade in the rebuilt city of Dale - but rather, the company made their way through a smaller side gate, a fair distance away from the main gate.

Guards moved around them as they entered the huge stone chamber just past the gate, all looking at them with guarded and suspicious expressions.

Frodo shrank down upon Radin's shoulders, his feelings of joy and awe quickly dissipating under these unfriendly stares.

Radin touched his leg gently, giving his ankle a reassuring squeeze.

"Captain Aivion, what's this? Where's Bovin?!" A large dwarf with a bald head, impressive muscles and a great many tattoos decorating his flesh bellowed as he strode down some stone steps from one side of the chamber towards them.

He looked, to Frodo's young mind at least, far too large to be really considered a dwarf. He was taller than everyone else in chamber! Well, excluding of course Radin, but Radin was taller than everyone!

"Dwalin," Aivion and his men bowed to the imposing dwarf.

Dwalin? Frodo leant forward eagerly, forgetting his fear for just a moment.

Hadn't his mama travelled with a dwarf called Dwalin? Yes! Yes, she had… He was - he was King Thorin's right-hand man.

Frodo felt his heart sink to his toes at the thought. He still hadn't made up his mind on whether he should trust the dwarf king or not.

The Arkenstone thief…

He watched as the two dwarves spoke in soft voices, every so often glancing in their direction, and maybe he was becoming as parra – parra - paranoid as his Uncle Lotho said Mama was, but they seem to be looking at him quite a bit as they talked.

Whatever it was that they were talking about, Dwalin's seemed to be struggling with what Aivion was telling him.

"I'm going to get Thorin." Dwalin rumbled loudly as he waved off whatever more Aivion was trying to tell him. The large dwarf's face was contorted into a grimace that held not only a great deal of rage but a good deal of sadness as well as he strode back up the stairs from which he had first entered the chamber from only moments before.

The chamber fell into an almost stony silence. Not that Frodo noticed over the sound of his pounding heart.

Thorin? Dwalin was going to get – to get Thorin?

Frodo started to tremble at the thought. He bit back a startled yelp as he felt himself being lifted off and down from Radin's shoulders and being carefully settled upon the stone floor of the chamber.

"You alright, mim ze?" Radin asked as he came to crouch by Frodo, his muddy brown eyes filled with concern.

"Um…" Frodo spluttered, his breath coming out in short gasps.

What was he going to do? What? What?

Suddenly all his excitement for meeting his mother's dwarves had disappeared and he was now filled with a sudden but great desire to simply run away. Run as fast and as far as he possibly could. Didn't matter about the destination, he just needed to get somewhere quiet where he could clear his heavy head.

"Easy," Radin said as he rubbed a hand over Frodo's back, trying to calm his gasping breaths, "Easy mim ze. What's wrong?"

"I-I…" And then his feet just took off, seemingly on their own accord, pulling the rest of him along with them.

"FRODO!" He could hear Radin, his grandfather, cousins and other dwarves yelling after him, but he paid them no heed as he ran up the stairs that he had seen Dwalin disappear up several moments before.

"FRODO! COME BACK!" the yells were growing distant as he ran up the stairs and up the corridor it had led up to.

His breath was snagging in his chest but he kept on going.

He turned a corner and almost crashed head long into several figures.

"Woah there."

"Who are you then?" Frodo shot the leader of the figures a frighten look and for a single moment his eyes were locked with a pair of eyes that mirrored his own before he was running off again but not before he heard another voice calling after him in an amazed voice.

"That was a hobbit. Dwalin! You didn't say there was a hobbit involved!"

"There are five actually." Frodo heard Dwalin retort before he belted out after him for him to come back.

"That was a child." Said another voice, a gentler one than Dwalin's, "Wait, little one, come back!"

But Frodo kept on running, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his poor feet with each step he took.

He took several more turns, becoming completely lost but making sure he wasn't seen by any of the many dwarves that were moving around the corridors, going about their business.

When he found he could run no more and he was completely and utterly lost, he opened a wooded door and ducked quickly inside of it into the dimly lit chamber.

He found himself to be in some kind of storage chamber, one that hadn't been used in years if the amount of dust was anything to go by.

He sneezed as he moved cautiously around the chamber.

Now what? He thought as he moved deeper and deeper within the chamber, inspecting the burning lanterns that hung from the walls, impressed by the impression they gave that once lit they didn't go out for quite some time, maybe even years.

He found an old pallet tucked to one side of the chamber, with a soft blanket that smelt slightly smoking. After a moment of listening hard to make sure he couldn't hear any footsteps anywhere nearby he curled up upon the pallet and pulled the blanket over his head.

Why had he run away like that? It was silly and childish but something inside of him had just panic when he heard that Dwalin was going to go and get Thorin.

And it was probably Thorin he had almost run into now that he thought about. That thought stirred mixed emotions within his gut and he wished for the millionenth time that his mama was here with him.

Sniffling softly he buried his face into the pallet and fell into a fitful sleep.

Chapter Text

Thorin had been having a fairly uneventful – and boring – day. Nothing remotely interesting had happened during its course. Nothing unexpected had occurred. It had been, as stated before, an uneventful day for the King under the Mountain.

The day had passed like he had come to expect most of his days as King to pass, long hours bent over meaningless paper work that needed his signature and crest and he only read them because Balin made him do so, otherwise he honestly wouldn't have bothered. He wasn't like Fili who seemed to actually enjoy doing paperwork; such a strange and unexpected trait.

Thorin had lost track of how many times he had caught himself not doing his own paperwork and simply sat back in his chair, watching his nephew work through his own mountain of paperwork, keenly taking in every expression his nephew wore as he worked through each paper with care and diligence, noting in his head that they were the exactly the same expressions that he wore when out hunting with Kili. Determined and lethal.

Thorin stretched his stiff back and tried to crush his boredom down as he read over yet another treaty of friendship from Thranduil because of… some reason or another, some benefit that Thorin couldn't really see benefitting his kingdom. They were neighbours, allies in times of trouble but that was really as far as Thorin wanted things.

He liked the working relationship he had with Thranduil and had no desire to change it for any reason what so ever. He saw enough of the pointy-eared bastard and his damnable son as it was, thank you all very much, he didn't want them thinking they could swan on in any time it took their fancy.

He was just forcing himself to get back into his paperwork and seriously focusing (and caring) upon what was actually being written down on the paper in front of him that he needed to sign when a very flustered Dwalin came barging into his study, closely followed by a very confused Balin.

Thorin glanced from the two brothers to Fili who was staring at Dwalin as if the huge muscular dwarf had suddenly grown another head. It would have been less shocking if he had for seeing a flustered and tongue-tied Dwalin was a very unusual and queer sight indeed.

"Ah, good evening Dwalin." Thorin spoke slowly and carefully as he watched the Captain of his royal guard try and composure himself enough to speak.

"Aivion's back."

"Oh?" Thorin said slowly, unsure why this would cause Dwalin to become so utterly flustered. Fili's blonde head was cocked to one side, his blue eyes filled with curiosity.

"Has he got the traitor Bovin with him?" Fili asked and Dwalin huffed.

"I wish." The huge dwarf snorted, "Make things less-less odd. And awkward."

"Eh?"

"Look," Dwalin said now looking more like his usual grumpy and imitating self, "Best if you just came and saw what Aivion has brought with him and what he's got to say, which is a lot and…" at this Dwalin gave Thorin a very strange look, "and I don't know how happy you'll be when you hear what does he have to say."

"Is it bad?" Fili asked in bewilderment.

"Not bad," Dwalin seemed to be struggling for accurate words to describe whatever it was that Aivion had brought back with him to Erebor. "More…it's just complicated. Just come and see for yerselves."

Thorin didn't need to be told twice – if more from the curiosity to see what had flustered Dwalin so than feeling any kind of kingly duty to go and check out whatever it was Aivion had brought with him. As it wasn't Bovin, he didn't really care, but… it did get him out of doing paperwork for at least a little time… unless it was something that required him to do more paperwork which if that was the case he might just pretend that whatever it was the Aivion (depending on what it was) didn't exist and get Fili to deal with it later… once he was done helping Thorin get through his original mountain\s of paperwork first, of course – and quickly followed Dwalin out his study, Fili and Balin moving closely behind him.

They moved quickly through the labyrinth of corridors within the mountain, moving steadily downwards, towards the mountain's roots.

"Dwalin, not even a hint?" Fili was moaning as they marched on through the labyrinth of corridors that made up the grand dwarven kingdom of Erebor.

Thorin had to bite back a grin at how much Fili sounded like Kili only for, in the next moment, he had the humour – and the air from his lungs – knocked out of him as something small and solid collided into his midriff.

Damn children! They knew better than to play in this part of the mountain.

He opened his mouth to give the child a stern chiding for playing where he surely knew he was not meant to but found that words quite failed him when he actually looked down at the child in question.

He vaguely heard Dwalin speaking to him but paid him no heed as he continued to lock eyes with the child.

The child who had collided with him was a very young boy, maybe in his early twenties Thorin would think if not for the simple fact that the lad looked nothing like any other dwarrow child he had ever seen before. The lad looked nothing like any of Bombur's lads though he did look surprisingly like Kili when he was just a very small lad.

The boy's hair was as dark as his own but curly in a way that no dwarrows hair ever would. His eyes were piercing sapphire blue and filled with such fear and uncertainty that Thorin from the very depths of his heart wanted to console and comfort him.

A human child? Thorin wondered but quickly dismissed this thought when he saw the slightly pointed ears sticky out from beneath the boy's thick curls. An Elf? No…

"Who are you then?" His question broke the almost trance like stare that he and the boy were sharing.

The boy's eyes widen and before Thorin could say another word or even have time to try and grab the child, he was off again, sprinting down the hallway, his larger than average bare feet making not a sound upon the stone floor.

"That was a hobbit." Thorin heard Fili dimly exclaiming in shock. "Dwalin! You didn't say there was a hobbit involved!"

"There are five actually." Thorin heard Dwalin reply before he shouted after the child to come back. The child paid him not the slightest heed as he dart out of sight around a corner.

Five hobbits? Five? Thorin could feel his brain starting to shut down.

He could hear Balin talking but couldn't force his brain into comprehending what his old friend and wisest advisors was actually saying.

"Hobbits?" He finally said as he forcibly dragged his eyes away from the direction the hobbit child had disappeared into.

"Five of them." Dwalin said with a nod, "c'mon, ask yer questions when you see them. Told you, you might not like this." He added as a grumble as he continued to lead the way down the hall, passing several anxious guards sprinting up the corridor, presumably after the hobbit child.

"Think they'll catch him?" Thorin heard Fili whispered to Balin from behind him.

"From what I know of hobbits – which is very little I must admit," Balin admitted in a soft tone, a contemplative frown decorating his features when Thorin snuck a glance over his shoulder back at his old friend, "and mostly what I know is from our personal experience with our burglar – I think that they're going to have tough job locating the little lad if he does not want to be found."

Yes, just like her, Thorin thought, thinking back on the few times she had hidden herself away and they had been hard press to find her until she was good and ready to be found.

Entering the Eastern Gates entrance chamber and seeing what was being held inside was one of the strangest sights Thorin had ever seen in his very long and eventful life. And considering the many strange and wondrous sights he had seen in his long and eventful life that was truly saying something.

He surveyed the group before him in a kingly manner while his insides did flips as he hunted – though he would refuse to ever admit it and would quite happily take Orcrist to anyone who might suggest that he was – for golden brown curls.

He found such curls quickly, but they were not hers.

Four hobbits stood out in front of the band of traitorous dwarves, each of them appearing to be exactly the same and yet worlds apart from each other.

He swallowed thickly and moved forward to address Dwalin's most trusted and senior of officers.

"Aivion."

"Sire." The red bearded dwarf bowed deeply before rising again. He looked to be as flustered as Thorin had seen Dwalin to be only a few moments before and quite irritable, obviously due to the loss of the child.

"Would you be so kind to explain why I have four hobbits standing in this hall and another running somewhere around my mountain?" Thorin asked in a cool and collected voice.

"Ah… bit hard to explain that." It seemed that everyone present was at a bit of a loss for words as to how to explain the situation to their king.

"I find the beginning is always best." Balin offered with an amused smile at seeing his brother's best dwarves at a loss for words.

"We're not even entirely sure of the beginning; these lot have been quite tight-lipped about it all." Aivion said with an aggravated look in the direction of the troublesome dwarves.

"How about the hobbits than?" Balin offered as he sent a kind smile to the quiet Halflings, "what is their story? From the beginning to coming to stand here before us?"

"Well Halflings?" Thorin said as he turned his head to the four hobbits, taking in each ones similarities and differences. There was one who appeared to be very old and quite frail, clutching with one hand onto a short stick while the other grasped the arm of young male hobbit with golden brown curls that reminded him so much of… no! He would not think of her! She had been invading his thoughts enough as it was without him seeing her in the face of this young male hobbit who was eyeing him with narrowed eyes.

If he wasn't so confused as to what was going on, he might have laughed for the glare he was receiving from three of the four male hobbits was quite an amusing sight. Hobbits were not creatures gifted with the ability to scowl with any kind of ferocity, not with their chubby cheeks and general pleasant face. But these three, they were giving everything they had to put their great displeasure of their current situation into their frowns.

"What are your names?" Thorin asked arms crossed against his chest as he looked down at them.

"I'll tell you my name Dwarf Master, if you tell us yours." The youngest – he was guessing. He had never understood the aging rate of hobbits – hobbit with golden brown curls spoke tartly as he glared crankily up at Thorin.

"Paladin Took don't be rude." The old hobbit muttered as he gave the young hobbit – Paladin was it? – arm a sharp tug.

The old hobbit looked up at Thorin with an apologetic look.

"Forgive him, please, he is young and we have travelled far and tempers get the best of one when one is tired and far from home." the old hobbit said and Thorin was struck with more thoughts of her as he stared at the old hobbit.

Why would he be thinking of her when he looked upon this old…

"I am Bungo Baggins." Ah… that's why.

Thorin felt his heart stop in his chest and it took several moments to restart again.

He heard a ragged indrawn breath from behind him and knew without looking that Fili had made the same family connection that he had.

He forced his face to remain neutral as he gave the old hobbit a nod to continue.

"This rude lad is Paladin Took," Bungo continued nodding to the lad beside him who gave them a half-hearted glare at them before making a small bow, "the one next to him is Saradoc Brandybuck," the hobbit man bowed without a word, his curls falling into his eyes, hiding whatever emotions he felt towards them, "and lastly my great nephew Lotho Sackville-Baggins." The finale hobbit did not bow or stop scowling at them. He simply crossed his arms across his chest and huffed. But Thorin took little notice of him, though his name did sound familiar for some reason. But he did not dwell on it, not when he had other matters to deal with.

"The little who just ran away," Bungo continued with a tiny worried smile, "was my grandson, Frodo."

Grandson? Thorin wondered. But wasn't he her fa… hadn't she said that she was an only child? How could he have a grandson when she was dead?

A small, tiny ember suddenly lit itself within his stone heart.

"What's brings you here?" he asked evenly, keeping his face schooled despite the tiny ember growing warmer within his chest with every breath he took.

"Not ourselves willingly." The hobbit with brown curls, Saradoc started carefully. "We were taken from our home quite against our will by the dwarves you see with us, though," he glanced back at the dwarves, "these ones have been kinder to us than the others."

"Why did they take you?" Dwalin beat him to the question. The four hobbits – even the scowling one – hesitated for a moment before shrugging their small shoulder and fell into a cautious, collective silence.

"Bit complicated that bit, I do believe." Aivion spoke up as he glanced over the dwarves and hobbits.

"Do you know it?"

Aivion shook his head.

"Only bits and pieces but as I said they've all been tight-lipped about it all. I know that one hobbit is missing though."

"Missing?" Thorin asked and watched as both Aivion and Dwalin shifted uncomfortably where they stood.

Thorin was about to bark at them to cut it out and just tell him when the youngest male hobbit suddenly asked a very unusual question indeed.

"Are you the dwarves then?"

"Pardon?" Balin answered for him as he was still too occupied with wanting to bash Dwalin and Aivion's heads together to get them tell to him everything they knew about what was going on before him.

"Are you the dwarves?" The hobbit, Paladin, asked again, eying them with suspicious, albeit curious eyes.

"Pal, hush up." Saradoc hissed at Paladin who glared crankily back at him before falling silent.

Thorin understood that for the moment he wouldn't be able to get anything out of the two young hobbits or Dwalin and Aivion about what any of them were on about, forced himself to turn his attention back on to the dwarves before him, only now noticing that the youngest looking dwarf in the entire group appeared to be size of a full-grown man. How had he missed that! Oh, yes, the hobbits and… her. Or rather the thought of her somehow being there – despite being dead – and the earth-shattering disappoint of her not being present.

He gave the odd looking lad a strange, questioning look that caused the large lad to blush a deep crimson and ducked his head, his oversized hands twisting the bottom of his filthy tunic between weather-beaten fingers.

"Bovin isn't present I've noticed." Thorin said, stating the obvious after a long, silent pause in the hopes that he might get information flowing more freely instead of this torturous yanking out a tooth by the roots process he was currently being forced to go through to get anything out of anyone.

Aivion nodded his red head somewhat sheepishly.

"Yes, I have dwarves still out looking for him sir. But I have reason to believe these lot are members of his company."

"Why would he split his company up?" Fili asked from behind Thorin. Thorin saw the youngest hobbit opened his mouth as if to answer before he was silenced by the other hobbit, Saradoc with a well placed elbow to his ribs.

"Good question." Dwalin said as he glared menacingly at the dwarves who swallowed nervously.

"Well?"

"You have no proof that we have even seen Bovin, let alone travelled in his company." One dwarf grumbled angrily back at them. "We have done no wrong."

A snort was heard from one of the hobbits and as well as from the large lad, both of whom fell silent under Thorin's searching gaze.

"Alright, then may I ask why you have hobbits in your company?"

"Wouldn't be the first time Halflings have travelled with dwarves, has it, sir?" One of the dwarf sneered at him.

Thorin glared back at him in annoyance and opened his mouth to retort when he heard the hobbits whispering amongst themselves.

"Told you they were her dwarves."

"Yes, well they're not being much help, now are they? So hush up. And you don't have any proof that they are, Dagan just implying that they knew about travelling with hobbits, not that they actually did. Now hush up Pal. The sooner this is sorted, the sooner we find Frodo and get out of here."

"But they could help." Paladin hissed anxiously before blushing when he saw that all were staring at him. "Sorry." The hobbit muttered though he didn't look very sorry but Thorin let it slide for now.

"Why are you travelling with hobbits."

"We're not travelling with them! They took us, quite against our and it is all your fault!" the surly looking hobbit answered him snappily.

"Shut it Lotho!" the two young hobbits hissed at the surely hobbit who was glaring at Thorin.

"Oh and how is it our fault?"Dwalin asked in amusement causing the hobbit, Lotho, to huff impatiently.

"If you dwarves had just left things well enough alone, she wouldn't have gone running out her front door after to you on your mad venture – and leaving the Baggins name in disgrace to I might add – then these dwarves would never have come to the Shire and kidnapped us. Though," Lotho paused thinking, "It's also her fault for following you and then coming back without so much as by your leave. Kick us out of our rightful property!" the youngest hobbit, Paladin let out an outrage cry at that.

"Rightful property! By my foot was it rightfully yours! Only if you had married her, which you didn't, so your claim to Bag End was and still is bogus! Bilbo had every right to kick you out of her home when she came back after travelling with these lot!"

"She should of stayed with them, saved us all a lot of trouble and disgrace!" Lotho cried back.

"Hold on," Balin's clear voice broke the through the hobbit's squabbling and had reminded Thorin's heart that it needed to take a beat or otherwise he will fall unconscious. "Are you speaking of Bilbo Baggins?"

Hobbits gave him incredulous looks.

"Yes, of course we are." Lotho snapped crankily, "she's the only hobbit stupid enough to leave the Shire in over a hundred years."

"Stupid? Bilbo isn't stupid! She's the smartest hobbit in Hobbiton, though given who actually lives in Hobbiton," Paladin was saying as he looked Lotho up and down, "that isn't exactly hard, now is it?"

"She is alive then?" Thorin asks in a soft voice but it's still loud enough to stop the two hobbits bickering. His mind was desperately trying to process this information as he heart beat a mile minute.

"Of course she's alive." Paladin cried looking outraged at the very suggestion that she might not be before pausing as his face fell a little, "Well, she was the last time we saw her."

"And still will be if she's learnt to keep her mouth shut around Bovin." Saradoc mumbled softly.

"Bovin? Bovin has taken her? Where?" Thorin snarled, rage like he hasn't felt in so many years started to swell within his chest. The ember that had been growing in his chest was now a raging furnace.

"Uh, yes." Paladin squeaked, taking a small step back, "But I don't know where. She kept asking him but he never said. They got into quite a few verbal spats about it too."

Thorin's head was spinning.

She was alive. Alive!

And in the hands of Bovin for Mahal only knew what reasons.

"Do you know why you were separated from her?" Balin asked in a collected tone, only a look into his eyes betrayed how disturbed he was by what he was hearing.

The hobbits hesitated for a moment before Saradoc spoke.

"We were slowing them down too much." Saradoc finally admitted, "They, Bovin I mean, needed to get Bilbo to some meeting place by the beginning of autumn or there would be big trouble."

"Any other reasons?" Dwalin asked and Thorin frowned at the odd note his old friend's voice.

"Uh…" the hobbits hesitated again.

"Maybe because of Frodo too, maybe." Paladin muttered, ignoring the exasperated look that was being sent his way by Saradoc.

"Frodo?" Thorin asked before suddenly remembering the little hobbit lad who had run into him before he walked into this huge mess.

"Mmm hmmm, Bilbo's son."

"Her WHAT?" Thorin hadn't meant to shout but of all the things that he had expected the hobbits to say, that certainly wasn't it.

She had a son? A son? A child of her very own…

Paladin cocked his head to one side in confusion while Lotho huffed again.

"Oh, of course, you lot wouldn't know, would you! Just perfect, fine mess she's certainly landed us in."

"Bilbo has a child?" Balin asked slowly and carefully, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Ah, yes. That was one of the reasons he was snagged. The other…" Thorin's mind all but seized up as painful theories and possibilities started bombarding his brain. No… no, it could be… she wouldn't…

"How old is he?" Thorin asked through gritted teeth, noticing now that Dwalin and his captain were sharing knowing looks and he realised that they had suspected what has only just now dawning upon him.

The hobbits did not seem to want to answer him however, clearly unnerved by his temper and gathering from the rough treatment they had most likely suffered at the hands of Bovin and his crueller of followers they were not likely to respond well to him losing his temper.

"Nine, sir." Thorin looked sharply up at the tall, disproportion lad. "The little lad is nine; he'll be ten in autumn."

"And you would know this because?" Dwalin asked the lad sharply causing the boy to blush again.

"He told me sir. We're-we're friends." The tall lad scuffed his feet against the stone floor.

Nine. Billanna's child was nine, soon to be ten. It didn't take a mastermind or wizard to figure out the maths.

Thorin ran a hand over his face, trying to force his screaming thoughts to settle into an orderly, coherent fashion so that he would be able to think out his next course of action. Other than the obvious course of action of him hunting down Bovin and impaling him with Orcist.

"I want him found." He spoke slowly, careful to articulate his words precisely and allowing none of his inner turmoil to show in his voice or face, though he was sure if anyone looked him directly in the eyes they would see his panic, his confusion, his fear and hope, "I want him found and brought to me. Once he has been, I'll figure out our next step."

Not the most eloquent or kingly of orders, but they were simple enough and his guards moved quickly to follow them.

"What about us?" Paladin demanded, stamping his large foot against the floor, arms crossed against his chest, his earthy eyes narrowed as he glared up at them impatiently.

"What about my daughter?" Bungo added in a softer tone as his dark brown eyes bored into Thorin. Their eyes met and held for a moment before Thorin was the first to break eye contact, unable to keep looking into the eyes of the old hobbit… her father without his shame near overwhelming him.

How had his fairly uneventful and boring day turned into this!?

He needed a drink, a large one… but not until the child was found and Thorin seen him with his own eyes.

Chapter Text

"How hard is it to find one hobbit child?" Dwalin growled out once he was done throwing Bovin's dwarves into a holding cell and had come into Thorin's study to report that so far his guards had seen neither hide nor hair of the little lost lad.

"Very hard. Apparently Frodo is quite the escape artist." Balin replied dryly. He had just returned from settling the hobbits into their temporary lodging.

"Serves her right to have one." Dwalin said with a rumbled chuckle, ignoring Thorin's pointed look.

"Did you learn anything else about him?" Thorin asked as he looked around his study, mainly towards his private liquor cabinet. He noticed that Fili had station himself in between it and him, by accident or by purpose, Thorin would not be able to get himself a drink without his nephew knowing exactly what he was doing.

Balin looked at him with an expression that spoke volumes of how unhappy he was about the current situation that they had found themselves in but spoke with his usual calm, collected tone.

"He's very bright for his age, an avid reader," Balin, of course, was pleased about this, "has a talent for drawing. He is kind and good with his little cousins and is a fairly happy child."

"And…" Thorin said giving Balin a look to stop sparing his feelings and to just spit out whatever else he was clearly thinking but wasn't saying in fear of setting off his temper.

Balin sighed a long self-suffering sigh and continued on, this time a little more gruffly and less composed

"According to his grandfather, he isn't your average hobbit lad. He's too quick, too strong and too curious about the world around him. Spends more time running off wanting to go on adventures then is considered healthy by respectable hobbit folk. And," Balin drawled, "He looks like you apparently."

Thorin felt his stomach turn at this.

"Black hair and blue eyes and stubborn as a mule, but then he may have gotten that quality from Mistress Baggins." Balin finished somewhat stiffly.

Thorin pressed his throbbing head into his hands.

What by Mahal's mighty hammer had he done to deserve all this?

Do you truly wish for an answer to that? A voice in his head muttered sarcastically and Thorin quickly decided, that no, he most certainly did not!

"What's going on?" The four dwarves jumped as a beaming Kili strode casually into Thorin's study.

"Gee, Uncle, you look terrible." His youngest nephew added in teasing tone before he took in all of their worried expressions and his smile slipped some.

"What's going on?" He asked again a little bit more cautiously.

"We have a bit of situation." Thorin growled, his hands still itching to pour himself a large mug of strong liquor.

"Oh?"

"Aivion's back." Dwalin said.

"Oh? Has he caught Bovin?" Kili asked as he tilted his head to one side.

"No, but we've found out what the Defiler's Spawn possibly hired him to snatch, though we don't know why yet." Dwalin rumbled. Thorin decided he really did need drink at the thought of her being in the hands of the Defilers Spawn. "But that's isn't our current problem."

"Oh, what is then?" Kili was starting to look irritated, clearly resenting Dwalin's vague answers to his questions.

The boy was growing more and more resentful with each passing day at being left out of the loop when it came to highly-important, royal matters. But given how his attitude was towards almost everything a few years back, Thorin still didn't feel that his youngest nephew was quite ready to sit on his private counsel. In a few more years, yes, but now, his nephew was simply still too young.

"We've lost a child." Balin explained clearly taking pity on Kili, "a hobbit child."

The reaction his nephew gave to that news was not one that Thorin was quite expecting at all. The boy did double take of Balin before his face turned a shocking white colour beneath his tanned, scarred skin.

"A-a hobbit child?" his nephew's voice squeaked unnaturally high, his dark eyes turning wild and frantic, a sight Thorin hadn't seen in years.

"Yes." Balin frowned at the boy, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Kili… What do you know…"

"What does he look like?" Kili demanded quickly as he looked at all them, "the child? What does he look like?"

"Never said he was a boy, lad." Dwalin said frowning now too.

"Doesn't matter." Kili snapped, his temper roaring into life. A temper he had unfortunately inherited from Thorin and his late brother Frerin. Thorin had often prayed that this unfortunate family trait would not lead his youngest nephew to facing the same fate as his mother's second brother, the uncle he had never known. "What does he look like? Is he around nine years old?"

"You knew didn't you," Balin groaned as he pressed a hand to his temple, rubbing his fingers against it, "all those trips to Ered Luin. With Bofur, Bifur and Ori. The four of you weren't going there at all, were you? You were going to the Shire?" Kili fidgeted uncomfortably but did not deny anything Balin was saying.

Thorin once more felt the rage that he hadn't felt in years build within his chest again.

"You knew! You knew that she was alive and well and you never said! You knew that she had a child that could very well be…"

Kili whipped around to face him, his own face twisted in rage as he snarled back.

"You banished her! You banished her and threw her out! You have no right to be angry! No right at all! None! We went and searched her out, not you! We found her in the Shire, with Frodo, not you! You never even tried to find her! Instead you chose to accept the easier option of thinking she was dead! We never did! Never, not once!"

Thorin opened his mouth to say something, anything but words were failing him. His nephew was trembling with fury, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Now," Balin said quickly, stepping between nephew and uncle, even though there was already a large, solid oak desk between them, "is not the time to fight. We need to find the child."

"Exactly! Yell at me later." Kili snapped angrily at them all, "I'm gonna find Frodo. What in Mahal's name were you thinking, letting a small child escape…" Kili paused, his face turning from icy fury to a look of a youngster's confusion. "Ahh… what is he doing here?"

"That's what we want to know." Fili answered him carefully, clearly not wishing to set his younger brother off again. Thorin, however, could see the hurt in Fili's blue eyes.

"Is Bilbo here?" Kili questioned, his dark eyes dancing hopefully.

They all shook their heads and Kili's eyes widen and his fury was back in a heartbeat.

"What did you do?" He snarled at Thorin.

"Believe it or not, nothing." Thorin growled back at his nephew from behind gritted teeth.

"So… what? Frodo just wandered all the way here all by himself, did he now?" Kili sneered looking so like Frerin when he was of a similar age and in one of his fouler of mood that it was almost frightening.

"Kili…" Fili warned softly, gently placing a reassuring hand upon his younger brother's arm, "didn't you say you were going to help with the search for Fro-Frodo?" he stuttered a little over the hobbit child's name.

Kili shot his uncle one final furious look before giving his brother a sharp nod and stalked out of the room, muttering darkly under his breath.

"Well, that was…" Dwalin started bluntly before Thorin interrupted him.

"Unsurprising." Thorin grated as he forced his fists to unclench, ignoring the throbbing pain in his palms from where his nails had dug into his skin.

"You didn't know, I'm guessing." Thorin asked his heir who was looking very badly torn between wanting to be the dutiful heir and nephew while at the same, a good, loyal and protective older brother.

After a moment or two of silence, Fili shook his golden head.

"No. But I – I should have guessed. It makes sense, now that I think about it. It is something he would do."

"Yes. Yes it is." Thorin agreed feeling suddenly very tired and old.

"Well since Kili has taken over the search for the little lad, we should…"

"Go talk to Bovin's dwarves; find out what the hell is going on." Thorin finished for Dwalin who nodded his head in agreement.

"Fili," Thorin turned to his oldest nephew as the four dwarves made to leave his study, "go after you brother, help him with finding the lad."

"Of course Uncle." Fili nodded and made to head in the direction that his brother had stalked off into in search for the lost lad.

"Fili." Thorin said again, causing his nephew to look back at him with a questioning look, "beat him over the head for me a couple of times, would you?" his nephew grinned and nodded.

"Of course Uncle," he said again before darting off to find his brother.

Thorin sighed heavily before making his way with Balin and Dwalin at his sides down to the holding cells in the very roots of his great mountain.

Thorin forced all of his erratic emotions and tempest of thoughts to back of his mind, squashing them down within himself to deal with later. Right now he needed to be the King his father and grandfather had wanted him to be and that meant putting all his personal thoughts and feeling to the side.

It still didn't stop him from wanting to break every bone in Bovin's body and for him to now regret his order for Bovin to be brought to Erebor unharmed. Though it did mean he had more to work with when the traitor was finally brought to Erebor.

With questioning Bovin's men, he quickly discovered that almost all of them worked for Bovin simply because they were in desperate need of money or theirs and their families lives had been threatened in some way. Most hadn't even been aware that Bovin's business partner was an orc – many had gone white beneath their beards upon finding out, their eyes filling with disgust and horror. But even with this new knowledge, most of the dwarves had remained tight-lipped about the whole operation, though Thorin figured this was mainly due to them still fearing for their families lives and were afraid to reveal anything more than what they already had.

As furious as he was with these dwarves for agreeing to work with someone like Bovin to begin with, he could understand their desperation.

Even with Erebor now flourishing, times were still hard for most dwarves and so desperate times came for desperate measures. Even the kidnapping of innocent Halflings.

Of course there were some dwarves such as Divil son of Diror, and the twin dwarves Dagan and Dagrin sons of Dagrur who knew more than they were letting on and so needed to be encouraged some.

Divil was the first to break.

"What does Bzog, son of Azog the Defiler want with Bilbo Baggins?" Dwalin asked in a slow voice voided of emotions. He fingered one of his long knives in front of Divil, causing the dwarf to swallow nervously. Balin and Thorin both rolled their eyes at this display of intimidation but said nothing of it. Dwalin had a talent for being intimating at the best of times. This skill had, in fact, saved them many a time and made difficult information more readily available to them when dealing with less than willing informants.

"I-I don't know. Bovin just said that he wants him. Her." Divil scrunched up his face in confusion.

"Bzog doesn't know that Bilbo Baggins is, in fact, female?" Balin asked calmly.

Divil shook his head.

"No. We went to the Shire looking for a Mister Bilbo Baggins. Instead we found her, her whelp and the rest of the Halflings you've seen. Wouldn't have known it was her if it weren't for one of her relatives calling her name out. None of us believed it until she, herself, admitted to being he… she."

"So you snatched her from her home?" Thorin grated out, feeling cold fury moving relentlessly within his chest.

"And paid for it too." Divil grumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"We paid for it." Divil repeated grouchily, "She didn't take nicely to us invading her home. She used a little blade on us – wasn't afraid to use it at all – and slash a few of us up. Would have done some real damaged if Bodiol hadn't smacked her one over the head and knocked her cold."

"He did what?" Thorin growled out coldly and his temper once more rising.

Divil shrank back in the hard iron chair that he was chained into a little more.

"Thorin." Balin said placing a hand on his arm, half-reassuring, half-restraining.

Thorin took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down, something that was growing harder and harder to do with each passing moment.

"Why did you split up?" Dwalin asked, taking over the interrogation once more as he passed around the small dark dungeon they were currently in, still fingering one of his wicked knives.

"Bovin said that we were moving too slowly; that we'd miss our deadline with Bzog and that he would have our heads. That was all he said." Divil grumbled before muttering, "that and to keep the damn wrench under control."

"I beg your pardon."

Divil shrank back once again at Thorin's black tone before stuttering back.

"The –the lass, before we split up, kept on trying to escape with her whelp – I mean," Thorin's expression had turned something close to murderous, "her lad. But the other Halfings slowed her up, foiled her escape attempts in one way or another. It was one of the reasons why Bovin kept them alive."

"Guess she didn't have enough barrels." Thorin heard Dwalin mutter under his breath and felt his lips twitch for a moment before he remembered his fury over everything he was hearing.

Divil was proving to be rather useless, showing that while he had a slightly better idea of what was the plan between Bovin and Bzog, but not much better.

However he did show some worth when he directed them towards one who might have a better idea as he had been one of the few who had been present during the business meeting between Bovin and Bzog.

The tall, disproportion lad smacked his head on the top of the stone door frame the moment he was brought to the interrogation chamber, groaning softly and rubbing his forehead with his tied wrists.

The lad was far meeker than the rest of the dwarves that they had interrogated and by far one of the most respectful, if only due to the fact that he couldn't meet their eyes.

"What's your name lad?" Dwalin asked the moment the lad had sat himself down on the floor – the interrogation chair would not fit his unusual build.

"Radin, sir. Son of Runira and –and Williem." The boy muttered, peeking up at them from beneath his heavy curls before once more turning his gaze to the ground.

"Human name?" Balin queried gently.

"Yes sir."

Balin nodded his head sagely.

"I'm sure that makes getting respectable work difficult for you?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably for a moment before nodding his head with a sigh.

"Yes. We lost our forge because – because of debts and there was nothing left for us in our village. No one would take us in, so we left hoping to find work elsewhere but… no one wants to give work to a mongrel." The boy muttered bitterly, "My brother and I, we –we take whatever work wherever we can."

"Where is your brother now? Did he come with you?" Dwalin asked.

"He's with Bovin." The lad groaned miserably, "I don't know why Bovin split us up, made me go with Frodo and the others while he took Ranon with him and Miss Bilbo. I don't know why." If the boy's hands weren't tied, Thorin was sure the boy would have been tearing his thick hair out by the roots in his frustration and fear for his brother.

"Do you know where Bovin is meeting Bzog?" The boy's eyes flickered to meet theirs, the muddy orbs wide with shock.

"You mean, you know about this?" the boy cried, staring back at them with – with anger of all things. "You knew about this and you've done nothing? I thought – I thought…" the boy seemed to have been rendered speechless, simply gaping up at them in disbelief.

"Do you know who we are lad?" Dwalin growl softly, showing off his wicked knife.

"Well," the boy seemed to have found his tongue upon seeing Dwalin's knife, "not personally obviously. But I've heard of you of course. From my Grandda and others. And of course, Miss Bilbo's stories. She spoke highly of you all, is all and I thought – I thought that if you had known – I mean," the boy's became scrunched up as he thought, "she thought you knew or maybe she didn't but she kept pestering Bovin, asking if you did, but then she was thinking we were bringing her here, not taking her to Bzog. See only Frodo and the others I guess, were meant to come here, while Miss Bilbo was meant to go Bzog, cause she's the one he wants because of some big battle and he thinks – Bzog I mean – that she had something to do with the killing of his… father, I think and that's why we came looking for her. Only she doesn't know that, she thinks you sent us. Though now, I guess she knows that she's not coming here at all but instead, maybe she now knows she going to Bzog…" the boy trailed off weakly as he noticed their dumbstruck expressions.

"I've let my tongue run away with me again, aven't I?" the boy groaned, "but I thought you knew… though of course maybe you wouldn't. I mean the others, not even Divil and the twins really know what's going on. And I don't either; really, I was only there because I'm basically the pack horse."

"Bzog wants Bilbo Baggins?" Thorin said softly and the boy nodded his head looking miserable.

"He's been looking for her for years apparently, but everyone thought she was dead, only of course, she isn't."

"Do you know where they're, Bzog and Bovin, are to meet?"

"Um," the boy scrunched up his face, "I don't know the name of the place, but it's the same place that they made their business deal."

"Could you take someone there?" Thorin asked his mind moving a mile a minute.

"Um, yes. I think so. I hope so." The boy blushed as he tucked his head, "I like Bilbo."

"Oh?" Balin asked, his white bushy eyebrows raised. The boy blushed before muttering;

"Yes, she was kind to me and Ranon. Everyone treats us like we're no better than dirt, calling us mongrels and names like that. She never did. She was just kind." a small smile crept around the boy's face before he looked up at then, his eyes curious, "Have you found Frodo yet?" he asked them, sounding hopeful. "I didn't mean to let him go, but he was getting restless and I think he was having a panic attack." The boy looked truly remorseful.

"You care about the lad?" Dwalin rumbled.

"Yes Sir." The boy nodded. "It was my job to take care of him, not;" the boy sighed heavily, "that I've done a very good job at it, letting him run loose all around the mountain."

"It's alright lad, we'll find him." Balin said in an almost reassuring manner. The boy looked relieved for a moment before turning his head to look earnestly up at Thorin.

"Sir, I know we've done a terrible, wrongful thing but please, I beg you, hold me fully accountable and let my brother, when you catch Bovin I mean, go. He had no part in this, it was all my doing, he only came along because he's my brother and we do everything together but the blame for this rest solely on my shoulders."

"What made you join this venture besides from the lack of work of ones such as you?" Thorin asked and the boy hesitated, looking slightly taken aback before muttering, "my no good uncle."

"Pardon?"

The boy sighed heavily.

"When my grandfather died, he left his forge to my mother and her two brothers, my uncles. My uncles wasted away our money, what little we had, on gambling and rum and such things as that. They created huge debts that we have no way to repay... except with our lives. One of my uncles has already paid in such a way. Bovin, well, actually my employer before Bovin said that if we did this job all our debts would be paid off and we would be secure in life with a job always at hand. If we didn't do it or we failed…

"You would be killed." Balin finished and the boy nodded miserably.

"Not just my uncle, Radon and me, but my mother and sisters too. They said they would flay us alive." The boy's shoulders shuddered.

"Aren't you worried about what will happen to you and your family now?" Dwalin asked maybe a little snidely causing the boy to lurch himself to his feet and bear his much greater weight down upon them. Dwalin immediately moved into a defensive stance and Balin took a step back. Thorin remained completely still, his eyes focused solely on the large lad before him.

"Of course, I am." The boy all but yelled at them, "of course I am. I'm scared to my very bone as to what will happen to my family. I've already seen for myself how quickly the ones you once called friends can turn on you. When my uncle died, my grandda, my – my father. I've seen it before and it terrifies me. I can't – I won't allow it to happen again. I can't." the boy whispered his hands clenching into fists in front of him.

"Alright lad. Calm yerself down. We'll see what we can do for you and your family." Dwalin glanced sideways at Thorin for confirmation. After a moment's hesitation, Thorin nodded his consent.

The boy seemed to relax some, slumping a little against the dungeons wall in relief.

"Thanks. Um, I'll do what I can to help you. To find Bilbo. I don't want her to fall into the white orc's hands."

They spoke with boy for a little while longer for he, besides from a few others, was the most honest and sincere with his desire to help them. He also had a better idea than the rest as to what Bovin's was planning, mainly due to him being "the mongrel, they'll say anything around me or Ranon because they think we're too dumb to understand"

By the time the boy was escorted back to his cell and Thorin walked with his head advisor and right handed man, he wasn't sure if he felt relieved that he now had a better idea as to what exactly was going on or if having this new knowledge was worse than having not known what was going on.

He wanted to beat his fists bloody against the stone wall, roar at the top his lungs, curse until his face was blue.

But most of all he wanted her. He wanted her back with him. He wanted her here, in his arms, safe and sound. He wanted to meet this child who could - and probably was – very well be his child, his son, their son.

He wanted them both and yet at the moment he had neither. She was hundreds of miles away in the hands of traitorous dwarf and was soon to be in the hands of an even fouler enemy who only Mahal knew what he would do to her. And the child, the child who was lost, somewhere within his great kingdom with no idea that he had kin here, that his father ruled the mountain he was lost in, scared and alone.

Thorin tasted blood in his mouth and only then realised that he had been biting the inside of his cheek bloody.

"We need to find the boy." He said coolly, portraying none of his inner rage.

"And Bilbo?" Balin adds carefully, glancing up at him from behind his bushy white eyebrows.

"We need to find her too. But first the boy. Dwalin I want you to join the search for him. Balin, I want you to go and round up the others, in particular Ori, Bofur and Bifur. Maybe they'll have an idea as to where the lad might be hiding."

The two brothers nodded and both strode off in opposite directions to attend their given missions. Thorin stood in the hall watching the two leave before he took himself in the direction his study. He needed a drink before he dealt with the others and then, then he would find Billanna's boy.

Chapter Text

He had barely finished his first cup of strong wine before his old company – all except Nori. He had disappeared, Mahal only knew where and for how long he would be gone this time – came striding into his study. Most looked confused as to why they had be summoned to their King's private study, while others wore guarded expressions, like his youngest nephew for example; with his dark eyes blazing with fury and his woren, scarred hands twitching nervously by his sides.

"Wha's is it?" Gloin asked as the old company moved around Thorin's study, each settling themselves comfortably in one place or another either sitting or standing. "What's with all the ruckus going on out there?" He jerked his thumb back in the general direction he and the rest of the company had come.

"You haven't heard then?" Thorin asked, a tiny part of him amused that something so large as this had managed to stay quiet for so long already. It wouldn't be this way for much longer he imaged. He winced when he thought of how his mountain would react upon finally hearing the news.

"Heard what?" Dori asked curiously.

"That hobbits have come to Erebor." Balin informed them calmly, a bemused smile playing on his lips, hidden behind his great snow beard as he watched the jaws of several members of the old company's drop in astonishment and disbelief.

"WHAT?" Several members of the company cried as one voice.

"Quite against their will, too, we have heard." Balin added dryly a hint of disgust in his voice.

"Hobbits?" Bofur asked softly. "More than one?"

"Four… well," Dwalin drawled, as he shut the heavy study door behind him with a firm thud, "five to be correct but we've lost one."

"Who we should be still out looking for!" Kili snapped angrily.

Bofur looked at him, obviously startled by the lad's sudden outburst before his dark eyes grew wide with alarm.

"Wh-what?" He stuttered while Kili nodded his head vigorously. Bofur looked from Kili to Thorin then back again, his face twisted between horror, confusion and worry.

"What is going on?" Dori asked in puzzlement once he noticed his youngest brother, who had been watching the interaction between Kili and Bofur closely, had turned deathly pale beneath his red hair and beard.

"That's a very good question. Who feels like explaining?" Dwalin smirked, maybe a little too broadly as he gestured in the direction of Kili, Bofur and Ori for one of them to start speaking.

"FINE! We knew!" Kili yelled impatiently, "Now can we go back to searching for Frodo?"

"Frodo?" Several dwarves looked at Kili in confusion while Bofur and Ori stayed stubbornly silent even though their eyes were wide and nervous.

"Frodo is Bilbo's son." Balin spoke the unexpected news as if he were merely complimenting the fine weather they had recently been having and not of the child of a person who had been, up until this very moment, a taboo subject beneath the Great Lonely Mountain.

Thorin leant back in his chair as he watched his men – besides the ones who obviously knew of the lad already – start to gag and splutter over this revelation.

"The lass has a son?" Bombur gasped, looking shocked and deeply upset by the news. "She never spoke a word. Does he know – does he know how she…"

"And that is the second thing we've discovered today… Dwalin said interrupting Bombur before the large dwarf worked himself up into a state, "our burglar didn't actually die during the Battle of the Five Armies." Dwalin finished, his smirk growing even wide. If Thorin didn't know his head of guards better, he would almost say that the large dwarf was enjoying himself a little too much.

The silence in his study was heavy and thick as the dwarves chewed over this, also unexpected revelation.

"I beg your pardon?" Dori spoke slowly and carefully. Even as shocked as he was, Dori still managed to be polite as they came.

"Bilbo survived the Battle of Five Armies." Balin answered him just as slowly and with just as much care, his eyes darting towards where Kili, Bofur, Bifur and Ori all still stood remaining as silent as marble.

"How?" Dori exclaimed, pressing a hand over his heart. "She was such a tiny thing and Gandalf said she ran right into the middle of it. We found her coat!"

"Yes, we did, but we never did find her body…"

"Doesn't mean she ain't still dead." Gloin rumbled.

"She isn't," Bofur said calmly before he looked at Thorin, his dark eyes questioning, "What's going on? Why is Frodo here? Bilbo isn't here, obviously, so why is Frodo? Where is Bilbo?"

"That's a lot of questions for one whose been keeping a lot of secrets" Dwalin said, his arms crossed as he stared down at the miner slash toymaker.

Bofur met his gaze calmly before looking towards Thorin before asking;

"What do you want to know?"

"Where to start?" Thorin replied rather sarcastically, "How bout with when and how you found out that our burglar was alive and go from there."

Thorin watched as most of his company turned to stare at Bofur in shock, but all kept their mouths firmly shut so as to allow the miner to speak without hindrance.

Bofur sighed heavily before shrugging his shoulders, flashing them all his usual and charismatic grin. Once Thorin might have believed the miner's grin was a sign of general happy and go-lucky attitude to everything in life, never would he have believed it was also a mask to hide the dwarf's true and darker feelings. It was only after the Battle of the Five Armies did Thorin realise just how much pain was hidden behind that wide, annoyingly bright and optimistic grin.

"It was a passing fancy of mine during our first ever trading expedition to Ered Luin. I meant to go alone, but," Bofur started with another shrug as he looked at Kili, Ori and Bifur, who all nodded, confirming the beginning of his tale.

"So your story," Dwalin said pointing to Kili who glared back at him, "about wanting to find the trolls was completely bollocks then."

"No!" Kili snapped back, "We did go looking for the trolls… we just didn't find them during that particular trip." The young prince received many deadpan expressions sent in his way.

"Bofur." Thorin said and the miner nodded.

"We weren't exactly expecting to find her. Alive and well, I mean. We just hoped and…"

"And you never said we could never go back to the Shire! Only that she could never come back here!" Kili buttered in hot temperedly, glaring daggers at his uncle.

Bofur smacked the young prince over the head to shut him up.

"And we did, obviously."

"Not that she was very happy that we did." Ori muttered causing his brother to look at him in horror.

"ORI!" Dori exclaimed, once more pressing his hand over his heart, "you knew about this?!"

The youngest Ri brother blushed but nodded, meeting his older brothers' eyes with a defiance within his usually passive and gentle gaze.

"Yes I did. And I don't regret it. Bilbo is my friend and I missed her. And she asked us…"

"Ori," Bofur said gently and the young red haired dwarf fell respectively silent.

"Ori's right," Bofur continued, "she wasn't overly happy to see us." he scrunched up his face a little as he remembered their discovery of finding their burglar alive and well, "almost broke my foot with her door."

"And smacked us over the head with that wicked umbrella of hers." Kili added with a cheeky grin before raising a hand to his head as if it had suddenly started to throb from the memory of the wack it had received from Bilbo's large umbrella.

"And yelled at us that it was impolite to barge into someone's house uninvited and asked us if our mothers hadn't taught us better manners." Ori giggled.

"She calmed down after a bit." Bofur continued with a small grin which faulted for moment as he wrinkled his nose, "Well, until Frodo appeared. We woke him, you see. Bilbo had already put him to bed when we arrived, but we obviously woke him again."

"Got nervous about you seeing the lad, did the lass?" Dwalin offered and Bofur nodded.

"When you finally see him, you'll know why." Bofur shot Thorin a rather unfriendly look.

"Because he looks like me?" Thorin replied and Bofur went a tad red in the face before nodding.

"Ah…" said several of his dwarves whose minds had finally made the important connection as to why the lad was so significant besides from being the child of their burglar.

"She doesn't deny it," Bofur started slowly, "and she wasn't trying to keep him a secret from us to be spiteful or…" he glanced at Ori who offered the word vindictive, "aye, that."

"So what was she trying to do then? Keeping something as important as this all to herself?" Gloin rumbled furiously.

"Trying to raise her child in peace and quiet. Keep him safe." Kili spoke in an innocent manner, all the while giving his uncle a cold stare.

"She had me draw up a contract." Ori offered to no one in particular but obviously to dispel some of the tension that was seething around the study.

"Did she now?" Thorin asked dryly, turning his attention away from his nephew and onto the young scribe who blushed violently, "and what does it say?"

Of course, he thought with a tiny hint of pride, having a contract drawn up was very much something his burglar would do. She had always been practical like that. Optimistic, but always planning for the worse, should it ever happen.

"Well," Ori dug around in his satchel for a moment before drawing from it a carefully folded by worn out piece of parchment. He opened it carefully; he's eyes quickly moving over it, "mainly it says that she'll send Frodo here, to meet with you when he comes of age. Which is thirty-three by Hobbit standards."

That caused a slight pause that echoed around Thorin's stone study.

"Really?" Gloin rumbled. He looked somewhat startled by this news, though only for a moment as he started to remember several conversations he had had with the company's burglar, one involving the age of adulthood of hobbit. He couldn't remember quite what that conversation had been about or how it had even started, though he suspected it had probably been about his son. Almost all his conversations with the company burglar had been about his son, his pride and joy in life. She never seemed to grow tired of hearing him talk about his lad. She had been sweet like that. It almost made him feel guilty about thinking so wrongly of her, even now, after so many years.

Ori nodded, his eyes still glued to the contract.

"She said that was her plan all along. Gandalf agrees with it too, apparently. Even says that if Frodo wants to come here, he'll escort him here himself."

"Us too." Kili added. "We offered to do so too. That's in there somewhere." He pointed vaguely at the contract in Ori's hands.

"What about her?" Balin asked, "What will she do, if the lad does decide to come here, will she come?"

"Ah…"

"That'd be a no." Dwalin stated. His face, momentarily, looked torn between disappointment and annoyance before it disappeared behind his Captain of the Royal Guard face.

"She thinks she's still banished." Ori replied meekly, still staring down at the contract in his hands. "And that things might be a bit… hairy enough without her being thrown into the mix. She wants what's best for Frodo and she - she thinks she'll only make things more difficult for him if she came along."

"So what will she do then? After her child leaves?" Balin asked. The four dwarves, Bifur included, shrugged.

"Either stay in Bag End or go to Rivendell, she hasn't decided yet." Ori answered softly. Thorin fought to keep his face neutral at the mention of the Last Homely House East of the Sea. Even so, he remembered her face when she first laid eyes upon its autumn beauty, and how, when they had left Imladris, the longing in her earth brown eyes as they bid the valley a silent farewell. Of course, she would go there to live out the remainder of her days after she sent their child to him, obviously believing she would never see the lad ever again.

"I don't think she's really thought about it to tell you all truths." Bofur voice drew Thorin back to the present. "Her focus is Frodo; she doesn't really think very much about herself."

Yes, Thorin thought as he rubbed his temple, that sounds very much like her. Taking care of everyone else, making sure they were happy and completely forgetting about herself.

He briefly remembers her panicking far above him as she suddenly realises her miscalculation and that she has quite literally left herself out of the equation of escaping from Thranduil palace. He remembers wanting to yelled at her for her blindness and stupidity, all the while panicking himself, trapped and unable to do a single thing to help her inside of his barrel.

He forces his thoughts once more away from her.

"When was the last time you saw her?" He asks and the dwarves before him looked thoughtful.

"Been awhile," Bofur mused, his eyes sad as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't think Frodo had turned nine yet."

"He'll be ten soon." Ori added with a small pout before turning his attention to Thorin, "Why is he here? We've answered what you want to know, have we not? So answer us this, why is he here?"

They hadn't actually, answered all of Thorin's question. Barely scraped the surface of all his questions in fact, but despite his temper and his desire to know why he has been lied to for all these years, he quickly decides that now wasn't the best time to go into this, that the wellbeing of child was far more important at the moment than his wounded pride and trust.

"You have heard of Bzog, the Defilers Spawn, correct?" Thorin asked and his company nodded, some with vigour while others, such as Bofur and Ori, looked more than a little puzzled as they nodded their heads to his question.

"Well," he took a deep breath to steady his temper as he spoke the words that were tearing his very being apart, "we have just learnt that he is apparently after our burglar."

The horror that filled his companion's face was enough to inform Thorin that despite the loud denials of ever caring a wit about their burglar after the whole incident with the Arckenstone, his men still very much cared for their hobbit and the very thought of her being in the hands of the Defiler's Spawn was enough for them to reach for their weapons and to go charging off in one direction or another to save her.

"WHY?" Bofur was roaring, his eyes frantic and desperate.

"Apparently he has it in his head that she has something to do with the Defiler's death and wants revenge… we think." Dwalin explained, "Did she mention anything about the Defiler to you during one of your visits?"

"Ah… no, not exactly." Bofur replied with a shake of his head, the flaps of his hat flapping madly around his ears, his eyes still frantic and his hands trembling at his sides as he tries to contain his anger and fear for the hobbit that had quite stolen his heart even when another held hers, "she doesn't truly remember much from the battle. Got hit in the head by something when she was crying out about the eagles coming… says she woke in a ditch a few days later."

"Didn't think to come back though." Gloin rumbled. Bofur shot him a look as did Ori, Kili and Bifur.

Bofur opened his mouth as if to say something, but Ori cut him off.

"She had concussion! A serious one at that. She said that she wasn't even thinking of not coming back when she got out of the ditch, it just so happen that the side she crawled out of was facing Laketown. She didn't even realise that she was heading in the wrong direction til she reached Mirkwood and by that time, Gandalf and Beorn had caught up to her." Ori snapped angrily at the much large red beard dwarf.

"Still should have come back after she found out about…" Gloin left the rest of his sentence unsaid, trying to be, for a rare time, delicate about a given situation. Bofur on the other hand, didn't give a wit about being delicate about the extremely delicate situation that they had all found themselves in.

"The lass didn't even know she was with child til she got to Beorn's! She felt utterly horrid during the whole trip back to his home but never even thought that it might be due to a babe growing within. She only discovered the truth when Beorn informed her. Said he could smell it or something." Bofur huffed angrily back at Gloin.

"And when she did learn about the babe, she just wanted to go home. She didn't want to go back around Mirkwood, not when she still thought hersef banished. So she went home, Gandalf escorted her and stayed with her until after Frodo was born." Bofur went pale as he looked back at Thorin, "this-this Defiler's Spawn, he-he doesn't know about Frodo as well does he?"

"We believe not," Balin answered for him, "we've spoken with one of Bovin's men who knows and was willing to give us a clear picture of what is going on, and from what he has told us, Bzog only wanted Bilbo, he knows nothing of her child. He believed that she was in fact male."

"We have to get her back. We have save her!" Kili was saying desperately, his eyes wide and beseeching as he stared at his uncle.

"We already have several parties out looking for Bovin. And with the information one of Bovin's men is willing to give us, they should hopefully intercept Bovin before he reaches the meeting place of Bzog."

"What about Frodo?" Ori asked worriedly, "You say he's lost?"

"In the mountain somewhere. He did a runner shortly after I went to get Thorin." Dwalin said, rolling his eyes, torn between appearing amused and annoyed by the lad's antics.

"We have to find him! Bilbo will have our heads if anything happens to him!" Ori squeaked.

"Do you have any idea as to where he might be hiding?" Dwalin asked.

"Ah," Bofur's face became thoughtful, "maybe in Smaug's bedroom."

"Or your workshop." Ori added, looking at Bofur.

"Or the throne room."

"Or maybe the kitchens."

"Or maybe…"

"So basically he could be anywhere." Thorin said over the top of the three dwarves who blushed and nodded.

"We told him a lot about Erebor, described it to him and such." Kili said softly.

"And Bilbo was fine with that?" Balin questioned, surprised that their burglar was happy enough to allow the four dwarves tell her son stories of the kingdom that she had been banished from by the very dwarf who happened to be the lad's father.

"Yes," Kili nodded with a shrug, "she only got upset with us if we started telling him about orcs or goblins and such."

"And yet she was fine telling him about our encounters with Trolls and Spiders." Bofur snorted in amusement.

"Probably because we looked so incredibly stupid and she gets to tease us over it. And you have to admit," Kili said with a bright grin, "her retelling of the Trolls and Spiders incidents are rather amusing."

"Aye, true that." Bofur replied with a grin.

"Can you think of anywhere in particular the lad might be hiding?" Balin asked bring the two back around to the topic at hand.

"Plenty," Kili replied, "but he has to get to them first, and that's where he'll probably get lost. This is a very big mountain and he's only a little fellow who has never been here before. Even with all the tales we've told him, it unlikely he'll be able to get to any of the places he would want to go before he got caught by someone."

"So again, he could be anywhere?" Thorin rumbled in annoyance. He felt as if they were going in circles and that the lad was no nearer to being found than an hour ago.

"Not necessarily," Balin said, his face thoughtful, "as Kili said the lad wouldn't be able to get far, at least to the places that he would most likely go without being caught, and as he hasn't been caught yet, he is most probably still down in the lower levels of the mountain."

"That still isn't much to go on." Thorin said biting back a growl of frustration.

"But it is all we've got to go on." Balin replied, sending him a sympathetic look.

"It's as good as any place to start." Dwalin said, nodding his head at their fellow companions, who after bowing to Thorin left to his study to join the search for the lost Dwobbit.

"We'll find him Thorin." Dwalin reassured his king.

Thorin only nodded his head silently, praying that his head of guard spoke the truth.

Chapter Text

Frodo woke slowly, his head throbbing as he sat up cautiously on the low pallet in the dully lit storeroom.

He sniffled softly.

He had been having such a nice dream where he was back with his mama and they were safely back in Bag End.

He stretched as he swung himself out of his little nest of blankets, his tummy rumbling softly. He rubbed it thoughtfully as he wondered where he might be able to get himself some breakfast.

After a few moments for quiet contemplation, he crept silently to the storeroom door and pressed his ear against the wood. He could hear the faint sounds of heavy footsteps against stone somewhere nearby.

Frodo took a step away from the door, swallowing hard. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to find his Uncle Bofur – or any of his uncles really – but he didn't know where to start. And his rumbling tummy wasn't making thinking any easier.

What was he going to do?

He bit down hard upon his lower lip to stifle a small sob of despair from escaping his trembling lips. Crying wouldn't help him!

Shaking himself, he once more pressed his ear to the door, listening for any sounds of movement nearby. He could still hear the heavy footsteps upon stone but they were not near to where he was. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door a few inches and peered out. The corridor was deserted.

Come on, Frodo thought, thoroughly fed up with himself and his own misery, it just like when Mama was sneaking around the elven place to rescue the dwarves.

Yes, but Mama had her magic ring… Frodo shook his head. Negative thoughts would not help him in any way. He had to find his uncles! Besides, despite not possessing his Mama's magic ring, he was still small and quick on his feet, silent on them as well and he could easily slip into a dark corner and go by unnoticed.

He set out cautiously on his mission to find his uncles (and some breakfast), keeping his body pressed flush against the stone walls on the maze like corridors he was trying to navigate through. Any time he heard a noise that sounded too close to where he was, he flew into a dark corner of the corridor or at times he even pressed himself inside of long, narrow crack in the wall.

Few dwarves passed him by in the corridors; most of them were guards though there were a few who appeared to be miners or simply ordinary folk going about their business. He made a point to keep out of sight of both.

But inevitably his tummy growls grew too loud to be ignored and passing dwarves looked about them when they heard the rumbles. Some, those with companions, laughed it off. While others, like the city guards, looked about themselves far more suspiciously.

Several times his belly almost betrayed his location and Frodo's young mind was starting to panic. He needed to find food to make his belly be quiet, but he had no idea how to get any without being caught!

He also didn't know where any kitchens or pantry or any food storage areas were. His mother and uncles had failed him to inform him of such areas of the mountain. He did know that there was a huge royal kitchen – it was where Uncle Bofur's younger brother worked as head cook – but he had no idea where that was.

You're a hobbit! Use your nose, you stupid boy! A voice that sounded very much like his loathsome Uncle Lotho snapped inside his head. Now normally Frodo did not listen to anything his Uncle Lotho said, in fact usually he went out his way to do the exact opposite to what his Sackville-Baggin's cousin said but at that current moment in time in his current predicament it was surprisingly sound advice. Even if he was only half a hobbit and his nose's smelling abilities were not quite up to the same par as his hobbit cousins, he could still smell his mother's freshly baked apple turnover from the bottom of Bag Shot Road on a breathless summers day.

As quietly as he could, he took a big sniff of air and after a moment his nose picked up on the faint scent of cooking.

Despite himself, the little dwobbit grinned and darted silently in the direction that his nose smelt food.

Every so often, particularly when he came to a fork in his path, he would sniff the air and choose the corridor that food smelt strongest to him.

He moved up many levels by using this method, into vastly more populated areas of the mountain and before he fully comprehended this new predicament he had landed himself in head first (or in this case, nose first), he suddenly found himself cornered by none other than Dwalin. Not that the head of the Kings Guard noticed him, too busy was he talking with a round, white bearded dwarf to notice Frodo standing a few feet down the corridor from him.

Frodo bit back a yelp, clapping his hand across his mouth and ducked into the nearest door, almost being knocked over by a large pot of steaming stew.

"Oi! Ya know ya lot aren't allowed in 'ere!" the dwarf carrying the large pot out the door. "Damn kids!" he added as Frodo darted pass him.

"Oi! Get back e're!" But Frodo continued to run through the kitchen where he, by some luck, had somehow managed to find himself.

He ducked and weaved around dwarf cooks, all of whom shouted after him to come back or to go back to the crèche or they'd tell his mother, but none made any attempt to chase after him.

They must think me a dwarfling or something, Frodo thought as he ducked into what he presumed was the pantry; though it was larger than any pantry he had ever seen before in all his short life. Larger even the pantry at Brandy Hall!

He kept moving through the huge pantry until he found a nice, cosy little corner, hidden behind some large barrels of wine and beer. Here he hide for a time until he was sure that no one was coming after him before he moved out to gather himself up some much needed breakfast.

As he foraged about for breakfast he found a side door that lead out to a deserted and presumably a rarely used corridor if the lack of lit torches were anything to go by.

He kept the corridor in mind for when he might need an escape route from the pantry if someone should come too close to his hiding spot behind the barrels of wine.

Behind them, he ate his breakfast in silence, all the while contemplating his next step. Not that he had very long to eat his breakfast and to contemplate his next step before he heard voices speaking at the other end of the storage room, heading steadily towards his hiding spot. Shoving what was left of the bread and cheese that he had not eaten into his tattered jacket pocket, he slipped out from behind the barrels, catching a glimpse as he did so of several dwarves heading towards him.

He ducked in between barrels and crates, heading for the side door he had found only a little while before. The corridor was thankfully still empty.

He sprinted down it hearing behind him some say that the side door was open. He kept on running, not stopping until he had once more gotten him so completely lost that it would be near impossible for him to find his way back to the kitchens with all the weaving down different corridors he had done to escape capture.

"Smart Frodo." He mumbled as he pushed open a door to another storeroom. "Real smart." He had never thought that it would be so difficult to keeps one way in someone's home.

In the Shire he had never gotten lost, not even as a small child but here, here he was lost with every turn he took.

His respect for his Mama and her being able to sneak around and then escape with thirteen dwarves from the Elven's King's palace rose several more notches.

He rubbed his face as he flopped down on to a sack of grain and pulled out the rest of his breakfast. Maybe he should save some of it for later…

Oh… He looked down into his hands and saw that all the bread and cheese was gone.

He giggled weakly at his silliness before sighing and leant back against the stone wall behind him.

"What am I doing?" Frodo whispered, sniffing, "What am I doing? I want to go home. I want to go home." he sniffed miserably, "I want mama."

oOo

Frodo woke up with a start at the opening of the store room door. He shot off his sake of grain and backed away as someone crept into the room. Whoever it was didn't appear to be an adult dwarf, at least they didn't appear to be as tall as the other dwarves Frodo had met and seen. Even so, he was still cautious, up until the moment he tripped backwards over a wayward box and let out a small yelp of pain.

"Gotcha!" someone was suddenly on top of him, using their vaster weight to hold him down.

"Get off!" Frodo shrieked as he kicked and punched his attacker who reared off him, howling in pain.

"Whacha do that for? That's not part of the game!"

Game?

"Ow!" His would-be attacker complained as he rubbed the various places Frodo had kicked and punched him, "Ow! Why didja do that?"

"Sorry," Frodo mumbled, "you-you scared me."

"And this is why we don't let you little'ns play! You all get scared at the drop of gem!"

Frodo scowled furiously back at the dwarf.

"I'm not a little kid!" He snapped back in outrage.

"Oh yea? How old are you then?"

"I'm nine. Almost ten!"

"Wha…" Frodo suddenly felt himself being grabbed again and being roughly dragged to his feet.

"Whatcha doing away from your ma and da for? You're just a baby."

"I am not!" Frodo cried as he wrenched himself from his attacker's grip. "I'll have you know that back home I'm considered to be quite mature and adult like. I look after the babies and little kids while their ma's and pa's are busy."

"But," he heard his attacker stutter, "Ya're only nine. Though," he paused for a moment, "ya don't sound like a baby and yer bigger than any nine year old I've ever seen."

"That because I'm probably not like any nine year old you've ever seen!" Frodo snapped sharply back, "I'm not a dwarf!"

"What?" His would-be attacker yelped in surprise, jumping away from him.

"A dwarf. I'm not a dwarf." Well, not a full-blooded one at least.

"Human's aren't allowed inside Erebor unless they're 'ere on business of trade and they're certainly not allowed to be in this section of the mountain." Frodo's attacker snapped angrily.

"I'm not a human." Frodo replied, a hint of impish mischief sneaking into his voice, as he fought back a smile. He was rather enjoying this conversation now, despite himself.

"An elf?" but the doubt was evident in his attacker's voice.

"Nope," Frodo replied in a sing-song voice that he copied from his mother; she always used a sing-song voice whenever she was feeling in a particularly teasing mood.

"Then… what are ya?" Frodo watch the dark outline of his attacker taking several steps away from him.

"I'm," Frodo grinned impishly, "a Gollum! gollum, gollum."

To his great surprise, the dwarf laughed.

"Nah, ya can't be. My Da and Uncle said that that creature is somewhere hidden up in the Misty Mountains."

Frodo blinked in surprise.

"Has your Da seen Gollum?" Frodo asked curiously. He had meant the Gollum comment as his own private joke that the dwarf lad, because his attacker was obviously only a young dwarf, wouldn't understand but… he did… but how?

"Nah, but he 'ad a friend who did. It's my uncle's favourite tale to tell us kids before bedtime. He calls it…"

"Riddle's in the Dark." They said as one.

"How did ja know?" the dwarf lad yelped in surprise but Frodo's mind was moving simply too fast to care.

"Who's your Uncle?" Frodo demanded, catching the dwarf lad's coat in his hand to keep him from running away before he answered his questions, "Your uncle and da, what's their name?"

"Why do ya…"

"TELL ME!" Frodo cried, jumping up and down impatiently.

"Bom - Bombur is my da," the dwarf lad stuttered, "and Bofur and Bifur are my uncles."

"Bofur?" Frodo said his heart racing in delight. "He's my uncle too!"

"Huh?"

"I mean," Frodo took several deep breaths to calm his excitement down, "He's not really my uncle. We're not related by blood. But he's a close friend of my mama's."

"Who's ya mama?" Bofur's nephew asked curiously.

"Um…" Frodo hesitated, not wishing to receive a similar reaction from Bofur's nephew as he had when he told Aivion who his mama was. "Bilbo Baggins."

The dwarf lad's reaction was nothing like Frodo had expected.

"Really!" the lad gasped, delight and amazement filling his voice.

"Um… yes."

"But I thought she was dead."

"No, she isn't," not yet at least, "but she needs help. I need to get to Bofur so that he can help her." Frodo said looking up at the taller dwarf lad desperately.

"Why? What's going on?"

Frodo hesitated for a moment before recounting to the dwarf lad the tale of his and his family's capture by Bovin.

The dwarf lad whistled softly once he had finished.

"He's a dead dwarf." He said simply.

"He can be a dead dwarf after I get mama back." Frodo muttered. "So, will you help me?"

"Well," the dwarf lad scratched his rough, still beardless chin thoughtfully, "I don't see why not. Just as long as ya don't go kicking me again. That hurt!"

"Sorry," Frodo replied meekly. "Um, I'm Frodo by the way. Frodo Baggins." He held out his hand towards the dwarf lad.

"Bofar son of Bombur, nephew of Bofur and second cousin of Bifur of the Great Company of Thorin Oakenshield at your service." Bofar replied shaking Frodo's hand enthusiastically.

"Please to meet you." Frodo said with a grin causing Bofar to chuckle.

"Same 'ere."

"What are you doing down here?"

Frodo shrugged, not really ready to admit to his new friend that he had run away from his family and consequently gotten himself completely and utterly lost within the great roots of the Lonely Mountain simply because he had panicked over the idea of meeting Thorin Oakenshield. He wasn't ready to admit just yet to Bofar that he had worked himself into such a state that if he hadn't run away when he had he might just have exploded at the very thought of the King under the Mountain not liking him. And that was just silly. He really shouldn't care about whether or not Thorin liked him just along as he promised to help find his mama.

Frodo swallowed thickly at the thought of his mama. How could he have wasted so much time running away simply because he was scared when his mama was still in Bovin's evil hands, being forced to face some terrible, unknown fate.

He was such a coward! A baby! His mama would never run away from her problems, she'd have faced them head on, with Sting in one hand and her witty mouth firing left, right and centre.

He rubbed his face miserably.

"Ya alright?"

Frodo jumped, having, for a moment, completely forgotten about Bofar's presences as he mused over his mother and his cowardly nature.

"No, not really. I need to find away to save my mama. Before it's too late."

Bofar nodded seriously.

"Well, we could…" Frodo's stomach rumbled loudly causing both lads to start giggling.

"Maybe we should get you some food first." Bofar giggled as Frodo rubbed his rumbling belly.

"That would be appreciated." Frodo replied as his tummy rumbled again.

"Wait here. I'll sneak up to the kitchen and grab you something hot to eat. And then, then we'll go and see Da and my uncles, alright?"

"Alright." Frodo said, "thank you." He held out his hand to the Dwarf lad who shook it with a wide grin.

"Just stay 'ere. I'll be back soon." Bofar said as he moved to the storeroom door.

"Alright." Frodo replied as he moved back to his sake of grain and curled back up upon it. He heard the storeroom door close and darkness surrounded him again.

Soon Mama. Soon we'll be back together again and we can go home.

He slipped into an uneasy sleep with dreams fill with great wars with elves, of three great gems that shone brighter than any star in the night sky or the sun on clear summer's day. Before long, his dreams grew too dark, too confusing for his young mind to understand and he slipped into dreams of running through the Shire, the wind in his curls, the sun warming his back and his mother's laughter filling his ears.

Here, here he was safe. Here he was loved. Here would where he would stay until Bofar returned and he could be taken to Uncle Bofur.

With a small smile, he held onto his mother's laugh, her smile and her warmth. For just now, he was back with her, for now he was with her. Just for now.

Chapter Text

Thorin could feel another headache coming on. He had just finished informing his sister of the situation and to put it simply her reaction to all he had just told her, was that she was completely and utterly furious.

With him, with the situation, with Bovin for committing such a heinous act of treason such as consorting with Orcs – the spawn of one their most hated enemies no less – and for his part in separating a mother from her child.

Thorin allowed for his sister to rant and fume as he sat back in her armchair in front of her heath. It gave him time to think, to plan.

"You need to find him." Dis hissed at him, her sapphire orbs blazing with the light of a blue furnace.

"I am trying Dis." He replied dully, rubbing his temple wearily.

"Not hard enough!" Dis snarled. "He is a child! A very young, very small, frighten child who is lost, without his mother, without any friends at all within this great mountain! You must find him before he gets himself hurt."

"I've sent…"

"I don't care how many dwarves you've sent looking for him. You should be looking for him as well, if what you say to believe about the child is actually true. Even if it isn't and you didn't sire him, you should still be out there looking for him as he is one of your company's child."

"And what if he is mine?" Thorin asked, possibly a tad harsh because despite what his sister had said they both knew the lad was his. He had been told as much when he had forced Kili, Bofur and the other two to speak. The child was his; his mind was simply still having a hard time processing this fact that was all.

"We'll deal with that after we've found him." Dis said simply her eyes still hard sapphires as she moved to pull him out of her armchair, "I will deal with all the council meetings today. You," she gave his shoulder a firm shake as she marched him out of her chambers, "are going to join the search and you're not going to stop searching until you've got your son and my nephew here, ready to present him to me."

Thorin fought to keep his face neutral and to not gag as his sister spoke the simple words of 'son' and 'nephew'. Those two simple but precious words that he heard from the moment Fili had been born into the world, that had never before bothered him until now, now when they were being used in reference towards 'his' son and 'her' nephew.

"Calm yourself Nadad." Dis said almost gently, "give yourself time and you'll get used to it." A sly smirk twisted itself across his little sister's usually calm and refined face, "Adad."

His knees went weak the moment that particular word, title slipped from his sister's lips and he would have stumbled if his sister, laughing loudly as she did so, hadn't seized him by the arm to keep him upright.

"That was not funny." He growled, fuming down at his sister who was still laughing, her sapphire eyes dancing with mirth.

"Oh Nadad, yes, yes it was. And you had better get used to it because whether you like it or not, that is now what you are."

Thorin swallowed, fear gnawing at his insides.

"What if he…" he said softly, annoyed at how close his voice was to shaking

"He will, Thorin. Just… give him time. But you won't know until you've found him. So go, go and find your son. And I expect," she waved a finger at him, "to be informed the moment that you have done so. I want to meet this nephew of mine." Thorin forgot some of his fears and insecurities when he saw the delighted, hopeful smile gracing his sister's lips.

"Now," she waved her hand gracefully at him to hop to it, "off you go. I don't expect to see you again until you have the lad, understood?"

"Of course mother," he replied with a mocking bow that had him receiving a firm cuffing around his head from his sister before he was being pushed completely out of her chambers and into the corridor outside, her door being closed with a firm click behind him.

He shook his head somewhat bemused before he sighed. He strode down back to his private study not overly surprised to see several members of his old company standing outside it, obviously waiting for his return.

"Any luck?" he asked Dwalin who looked back at him with a thoughtful expression.

"Thinking of heading down towards some old storerooms near to one of the lower level kitchens. Several of the cooks have been complaining about dwarflings running amok in there, one as recently as early this morning."

Thorin looked at him sharply, holding his breath as his old friend nodded.

"Says it was a little lad, one they weren't familiar with. Black hair and looking rather grubby. One even went as far as saying that he was bare footed."

"That could be him."

"That it could." Dwalin and Bofur both agreed nodding their heads.

"Hmph, then what are we waiting for, eh?" Oin rumbled, his ear horn pressed firmly to his ear with one hand, his medical bag firmly grasped in the other, "Let us find this little scamp of lad before he lands himself in the same amount of trouble as his mother."

Bofur gave a small snort of agreement as the group moved in the direction of the lower storerooms and kitchens.

The hope that had been burning inside Thorin's chest upon hearing Dwalin's news about an unknown child running around the lower levels quickly started to burn itself out upon speaking with more dwarves. The cooks that Dwalin had gathered his information from were not, once faced with their king, entirely sure of what exactly the lad looked like nor if he was wearing boots or not.

Thorin fought the desire to kick a wall at the very thought of searching every single storeroom of the lower levels to find one very small child. He would do it of course, but he feared for the child, for what harm might come to him in being alone in a strange and unfamiliar place for so long. He might already be harmed, Thorin did not know and it pained him that he did not possess any definitive information to help find the child.

He truly was tempted to kick the corridor wall after the twenty-third storeroom had been thoroughly searched and the child was still nowhere to be found. His foot was itching to take out some of his temper when Bofur unexpectedly called out.

"Bofar!" Thorin looked around startled to see a young dwarfling with a shocking amount of red hair that stuck up in all directions from his head a little way up the corridor, his arms filled with food. The lad stared at them with a mixture of horror and guilt as he shifted uncomfortable under his uncle's gaze.

"Bofar what ya doing down here laddie?" Bofur asked as he strode towards the lad, "ya know well and truly yer not allowed down in these levels."

"Looks like he was having himself quite the picnic." Dwalin chuckled in amusement.

Bofur glanced back at him then back at his nephew a strange look coming over his face.

"Bofar…" Bofur started slowly and carefully, "where is he?"

"Don't-don't know whacha talking." Thorin heard the lad mutter as he tried to avoid looking any of them in the eyes.

"Bofar," Bofur said crouching down in front his nephew, so that they were now eye level with each other, "I think ya do. Where's he? Is he hurt? We need t' find him."

The lad hesitated.

"I promised." The dwarfling whispered.

"I know," Bofur nodded his dark eyes gentle and filled with understanding, "an' promises are good, but we need t' find him an' have him safe."

"He's fine." Bofar replied, "Just hungry and scared. Ya should see the bruise I got from him kicking me when I jumped him."

Thorin's heart started to race the more he listened to Bofur's nephew.

"Where did ya jump him, laddie?" Bofur asked the lad. Bofar jerked his head in the direction that they were heading.

"Storeroom thirty." Bofar replied, "We-we, I mean," he blushed and Bofur nodded for him to continue, "I know we're not meant to come down here, to play, but the best hiding spots are down in 'ere and – and I was the seeker, so I was seeking and I thought Bofdur might be hiding in there and I wanted to scare him. And I did scare him, it just wasn't him…"

"Frodo?" Bofur asked and Thorin was sure his heart did stop for a moment when Bofar nodded.

"Uh huh. We fought and he kicked me and then we just started talking. Is he really Bilbo's kid? The burglar from your adventure?" Bofar started bouncing in excitement, causing for the food in his arms to almost tumble to the ground, not that he noticed in his excitement, "He said she was his ma, but…"

"Bofar…" Bofur said placing his hands on the lad's shoulders to calm his bouncing. The lad's wide and excited smile slipped a bit.

"Is he in trouble?" he asked softly.

Bofur shook his head.

"No. But we do need t' find him. Ya said storeroom thirty, aye?"

"Uh huh. He's in there." Bofar muttered.

"Good lad." Bofur said rumbling his nephew's red hair, "now go and take all that," he waved a tough, weather beaten hand at all the food in his nephew's arms, "back to the kitchens or I'mma telling ya ma that yer've been down 'ere again." The boy's eyes widen and he swallowed thickly before nodding.

"Um," Bofar said before he ran up the corridor to return his stolen goods to their rightful place, "will I – I mean, can I see Frodo again? Maybe he can play with us," the boy face momentarily became a frown as he added, "if he learns not to kick whenever he gets frighten."

"We'll see." Thorin was surprised to find himself answering the boy's query. The lad shot him a shy smile before darting back in the direction he had come.

"Right… well, eh… Storeroom thirty?" Bofur asked rubbing his head, looking a little dazed by the encounter with his nephew and the unexpected information he possessed.

They moved quickly to the storeroom in question, opening the door slowly and carefully. Silence greeted them.

"You go first," Thorin said to the miner, "he knows you."

The miner nodded and moved into the dark storeroom, carefully turning up the wall lamps by a lever near the door, casting the room with light.

Thorin strained his ears, catching what sound like a small gasp and frantic movements that were trying to be quiet.

"Frodo." Bofur called as he stepped further into the storeroom before pausing, waiting for a response to his call. None came and silence echo around the room.

"Frodo." Bofur said as he continued on inwards into the chamber, Thorin, Dwalin and Oin following close behind him, "It's Bofur. Come on out, yer safe."

Still no reply but Thorin could have sworn he heard movement quite near to them, on their right. Bofur had obviously heard it too and moved quickly in that direction.

He moved several box and bags of grain out of the way revealing a small crack in the stone wall. Too small for a full-grown dwarf to fit through but maybe a small child, a small hobbit child would be able to squeeze himself into it.

"Frodo?" Bofur crouched down next to the crack and reached carefully into it. His lips twitched into a small smile as his fingers brushed against a trembling clothed figure. "Frodo come on out."

There was a small pause before a soft, "no" whispered from within the depths.

"Eh, why not?" Bofur asked cheerily, "come on laddie, out ya come. Do ya know where ya are?"

"Erebor, the Lonely Mountain."

"Good boy." Bofur said shifting forward a little closer, "out ya come. Yer safe. Come on. Yer safe."

Thorin felt his heart stop once again as he watched as a tiny – so tiny – hand appear from out of the crack, curling cautiously around the opening. Next came out a head of curls as black as night, followed by a small body dressed in somewhat ragged, mud stained clothes until he stood beside Bofur, his whole body trembling.

"Hello." The little lad squeaked as he looked from Bofur then to the rest of them shyly. He scuffed his bare feet nervously against the stone floor, wincing as he did so.

"You, little man, gave us quite the run-a-round." Bofur said lightly as he pulled the little lad into a hug.

Thorin ignored the sharp burn of jealousy within his heart as he watched the familiarity that Bofur had with the lad and that the lad returned his hug without too much hesitation.

"So-sorry." Frodo muttered as he withdrew from Bofur's arms.

"It's alright." Bofur said fondly as he ruffled the lad's curls fondly. He glanced up at Thorin, clearly waiting for his King's next order.

Thorin cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away from the boy, away from his bright sapphire blue eyes that were a mirror of his own and seemed to see into the very depths of his soul.

"We'll return to my private study. Dwalin," he turned to his head of his royal guard, "inform the others that the lad has been found and ask them to meet at my study also. If my sister has a spare moment, inform her of what has occurred." Dwalin nodded and with a last look over the lad he turned on his heels and exited the storeroom.

Silence reigned for a few moments after Dwalin's departure, none who remained knowing quite what to do or say.

"Am I – am I in trouble?" Frodo's voice broke the silence. When Thorin looked back at the lad, he saw that his small hand was grasped tightly around the hem of Bofur's worn brown jacket, his sapphire eyes wide with worry.

"Dunno," Bofur chuckled, "yer've given us a lot of trouble this past day, with ya disappearing act."

"Aye, that yer have" Oin said leaning forward and looking the lad straight in the face causing the lad to take a step back, nipping nervously on his bottom lip.

"Sorry."

"Aye, I believe that ya are," Oin agreed, "but ya will still need to be making amends for all the trouble yer've caused." The boy appeared to grow even paler beneath his already pale skin, but nodded all the same.

"What's ya name laddie." Oin asked with a tiny hint of small beneath his grey beard. The boy frown, obviously perplexed by the questioned.

"Um, Frodo. Frodo Baggins… um," the boy thought for a moment before bowing awkwardly, "at your service." He looked a little flustered and more than a little befuddled

"The manners," Oin said as he looked from Frodo to Thorin," need a little work, but," He looked back down at Frodo, "but our burglar's lad, he clearly is. Oin son of Groin at your service young Master Baggins." He gave the little Dwobbit a small bow.

"Oin?" the boy quickly appeared to have, for a moment, forgotten his shyness as he beamed widely up at the older dwarf. "Really?" he looked excitedly up at Bofur who nodded, clearly trying not to laugh

"Aye, lad, I am." Oin rumbled with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

Thorin then felt his two companions look at him expectantly. Forcing down his nerves and a series of other high complicated emotions, he took a step towards the boy who looked up at him, his shyness clearing returning.

"Thorin Oakenshield." He spoke simply and the boy gave a jerky sort of nod and a shy smile, with a small whisper of, "yes, I know."

"Right, so…" Bofur said after another few moments of awkward silence.

Thorin nodded and gestured for them to follow him back to his private study.

Bofur rolled his eyes after his stiff King before smiling down at Frodo who was also watching Thorin make his way out of the storeroom with a look of confusion in his eyes.

"Come on, up ya get laddie." Bofur said as he slipped his hands beneath Frodo's armpits and lifted him up into his arms.

"I can walk." Frodo protested, blushing fiercely at this treatment, "I'm not a baby!"

"Aye and have ya run away again, laddie? I think not." Bofur chuckled as he started making his way after his king and the company's physician.

"I wouldn't… I mean…" he trailed off with a small sigh and instead wrapped his arms around Bofur's neck. He was too tired and hungry to argue and he felt so utterly safe in Bofur's arms that arguing with him just seemed a silly thing to do.

oOo

Frodo hadn't realised that he had actually fallen asleep in Bofur arms until he was being settled down in a very comfy armchair.

He yawned hugely and rubbed his eyes, peering curiously around his new surroundings. He was now in a well-lit room, a study from the looks of it but it was far grander than any study he had ever seen in the Shire. Even his mother's, who possessed the most fascinating study in the entire Shire, with all her maps and books depicting different and marvelous places and cultures from all around Middle Earth. That is, if you could find them beneath the mountains of paper work stacked precariously on any inch of space Bilbo deemed available for use.

A fire burned brightly within an intricately crafted fireplace at one end of the room. Frodo itched to get a closer look at the carvings that decorated the outside wooden with metal trimming edge, certain that they told some kind of great tale. But he quickly forgot about the itch of curiosity to inspect the fireplace when he took in all the books that lined the room's walls.

He suspected the contents of the books would hold very little interest to him but still, he had learnt early in life, from his mother, to have a great appreciation for all books and the ones on the shelves around him looked so beautiful. He had also always had quite a fondness for the smell of books. He wasn't sure why, but the smell of books always made him feel safe, almost like he was back in his mother arms again.

He tore his gaze reluctantly away from the books and looked towards the adult dwarves standing by a grand oak desk. At least Frodo assumed it was grand, he couldn't really tell with its top being covered with mountains upon mountains of paper.

He fought back a giggle of amusement. It looked just like his mother's desk back home.

"Something amusing lad?" Frodo squeaked and blushed as Thorin Oakenshield raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

He shook his head mutely and went back to looking around the study, making sure not to look directly at the dwarf king who seemed to be watching him closely.

"Book lover, are ya?" Frodo drew his eyes once more away from the books on the furthest bookshelf in the room to look shyly up at Oin who had come to stand by his chair, looking down at him with gruff scrutiny.

Frodo wondered if he had done something to offend the dwarf in some way or maybe the dwarf simply thought he looked odd. He was rather dirty.

He looked down at his clothes and wrinkled his nose. His mama was not going to be pleased when she saw the mess he had made of his clothes.

"Yer mother has a great loves for books too, does she not eh?" Oin continued motioning for Frodo to slide out of the armchair – and he really did have to slide, the chair was huge in comparison to his small body – and onto the stone floor.

"Yes, she…ow." He let out a little whimper of pain as his feet touched the cool stone floor of the study.

He blushed when he felt all three gazes of the adult dwarves upon him. Even more so when he saw that Bofur had moved forward as if to help him, his dark eyes bright with concern.

"I'm alright," he stuttered quickly, wincing as he shifted awkwardly from one sore foot to the other, "it just," he added when saw no one believed him, "my feet."

"Aye? What's that? Yer feet, ya say?" Oin question him as he gave him a stern look that was clearly asking why Frodo hadn't mentioned his feet earlier.

Frodo did not have a chance to reply before he was lifted back up and into his chair and Oin was inspecting his poor feet.

"Walked his outer soles raw, he has." Oin said after a moment as he turned Frodo's foot this way and that.

Frodo forced himself stay still and not kick the dwarf right in his face. Oin obviously seeing some of Frodo's discomfort let out an amused snort.

"Hobbits are sensitive about their feet, aren't they laddie?" the dwarf grunted as he let go of Frodo's right foot and turned his attention to his medical bag, "Remember when I was checking yer mam's feet one time and she near kicked me right in my nose."

"Mama almost did what?" Frodo gasped, shocked to hear his usually mild-mannered mother doing something like kicking someone, a friend no less, in the nose. "Why?"

"Hmmm?" Oin asked as he bent over his medical bag, rummaging through it.

"Her feet were a little squashed during the Troll incident." Bofur answered his question with a grin. Frodo grinned back, the Troll incidents was one of his favourite bedtime tales, though he had never heard of his mama being hurt during the encounter before.

He worried his bottom lip for a moment before giving a yelp as Oin suddenly caught his foot up once more and start slavering on some horribly sticky ointment. Frodo squirmed unhappily in the armchair.

"The more you squirm laddie, the longer this will take." Oin warned him, giving him a hard look from beneath his bushy eyebrows.

Frodo scrunched up his face back at him.

"But it hurts! And smells!"

"Well, of course it hurts!" Oin retorted with little to no sympathy, "yer've run the soles right off ya feet with all yer shenanigans."

Despite his annoyance and the pain that now throbbing sharply in both his feet Frodo couldn't help but grin.

"Shenanigans." He giggled, before pressing his hand to his mouth when he noticed Thorin shooting him a strange look from where he was standing by his desk looking over papers. Bofur winked at him.

"You know what that means laddie?" Oin asked with wry smile.

"Uh huh. Mama says I get into all kinds of shenanigans all of the time back home." he said with a bright grin before wincing as a particularly sharp sting shot through his foot and up his leg.

"Ouch." he whined, pouting at the white and grey beard dwarf, "why do they hurt more now than they did before?" he asked out loud, though more to himself than anyone else in the room.

"Eeh, what did ya say? Hurts more now? Adrenaline worn off, that's why," Oin answered him.

"Ad-adrenaline?" Frodo rolled the new word over his tongue. He thought that he had heard the word before though he doubted it was commonly used in the Shire in daily speech. Most likely he had heard it from his Mama or maybe Gandalf even.

"Mmm hmmm," Oin grunted, "ya most likely been running on 'em for a few days. Exhaustion will be next." Oin said to Bofur and Thorin rather than Frodo who pouted.

"I'm not tired." He grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest and slouching further into the armchair, "just hungry."

"I think yer both." Bofur chuckled leaning over to give his curls an affectionate ruffle. "We'll feed ya in a little while, but first let Oin look over yer feet, there's a good lad." Frodo let out another huff but complied with Bofur's request and forced himself to sit quietly as Oin tended to his feet.

Oin was just finishing wrapping his left foot when Thorin's study door flew open with a bang.

Frodo jumped and almost flew out of his chair only stopping from doing so when both Oin and Bofur grabbed him and forced him back into the armchair.

"You found him? Where is he?" Frodo's racing heart calmed when he heard the voice of dwarf who had just barged into Thorin's study and couldn't help but grin. Thorin on the other hand looked utterly exasperated.

"Kili," he rumbled out in annoyance, his black brows knitted together, "I know for a fact that both your mother and I taught you as a child to not going barging into rooms. Especially ones…" Thorin was cut off by Kili's eyes falling on Frodo causing him to exclaimed the boy's name.

"Frodo! Where have you been, you little rascal."

"Hello Kili." Frodo said softly blushing as he was swung out of the armchair and into Kili's arms. His blush only deepened as his uncle checked him over, scowling from time to time as he took in his unruly curls, his bandaged feet and filthy, ripped clothes.

"Kili, put the lad down." Thorin said sharply from behind Kili, "Oin hasn't finished checking him over himself."

"Oh," Kili said a little lamely, his own cheeks turning a hint of red as deposited Frodo back into the armchair. Frodo could have sworn that he saw Thorin roll his eyes but he wasn't entirely sure and besides his attention was quickly distracted away from the dwarf king as more dwarves marched into his office. Dwarves Frodo was sure were once members of Thorin's famous company.

"So this is the little lad, eh." One particularly large, red beard dwarf commented as he lay his dark eyes upon him causing Frodo to feel even smaller than he already was. "Not very big is he?"

"Gloin, leave the laddie be." An older dwarf exclaimed in gentle but firm tone, "He's been through quite an ordeal." Frodo was fairly certain that this dwarf was Dwalin's older brother, Balin. His mother had always spoken fondly on the old dwarf and Frodo could understand why. There was something about him that simply made you want to trust him and Frodo suspected that he told brilliant stories of times long gone by.

"Ordeal?" the red beard Gloin grumbled, "Eh, what of the ordeal we've gone through trying to find him."

"He is a child, in a strange place, he cannot be held accountable for his actions, however wearisome and time consuming those actions were." The white bearded dwarf replied before he smiled gently down at Frodo who smiled shyly back.

"My name is Balin little one." He said stepping towards Frodo's chair.

"Yes," Frodo said, still feeling quite shy and maybe a little overwhelmed with being in a room with so many dwarves, "I know. Mama's told me all about you." He looked around the rest of the dwarves crowding into the study, some looking at him with varying degrees of curiosity while others stared at him with expressions clearly asking what new trouble was his being there would bring them, "all of you."

Chapter Text

Frodo was a bit overwhelmed to say the very least about the current situation that he had found himself in. His young mind was trying desperately to process all the questions being shot at him and answer them in some semblance of order only he was quickly finding himself failing in doing so.

"Enough!" Frodo shrunk back in his chair at Thorin's bellow, blushing deeply when all the dwarves who had been bombarding him with questions meekly apologized and stepped several steps away from him.

"Now," Frodo tried to look Thorin in the eye as the kingly dwarf spoke to him but found that he couldn't quite do so. The best he could manage was occasionally peeking up at the Dwarf King from beneath his eyelashes, "tell us from the beginning all that you know about why you and your mother were stolen from your home."

Frodo was slightly amused to note that the Dwarf King failed to mention his grandfather and cousins but quickly decided that it might be wise not to point this tiny detail out when he took another peek at the dwarf's face.

"Um," he mumbled intelligently as he shifted uncomfortably in the armchair, feeling even smaller than he already was underneath the King's heavy gaze, "well, I don't really know. I mean, I wasn't there when Bovin came into the house. I was – I was," his cheeks started to heat up once more as he remembered exactly where he was.

"Yer were?" Bofur prompted gently from where he was leaning against Frodo's armchair, his presences there was calming and reassuring to the little dwobbit.

"In Mama's study." He admitted meekly before protesting quickly, "I know I'm not meant to be in there, but I wanted to have a look at Sting. Well, um, when I say look, I mean I wanted to hold it and – but, but Mama says that I'm not allowed to because I'm too little. But I'm not, I'm not! I'm bigger than all the other kids my age and I'm stronger too, so – so I was in Mama's study, holding Sting when Mama came rushing in and demanding that I give it to her. And I did and that's when I saw all of Bovin's men – dwarves."

"If any of ya can understand a single word of all that ramble, ya doing 'lot better than me." Gloin snorted and Frodo blushed, remembering how his mama chided him about speaking too fast and not pronouncing his words clearly.

He forced himself to calm down, to take a deep breath and to think carefully over what he wanted to say.

"I was in Mama's study when Bovin's dwarves came in," he spoke slowly and carefully just as his mama had taught, "I had a feeling something was wrong and when I stuck my head out of Mama's study, Mama was racing down the hall telling me to give her Sting and to stand behind her, that's when Bovin and his dwarves appeared with Grandpapa and Uncle Pal, Uncle Saradoc and Uncle Lotho. Mama tried to bargain with Bovin to make him let us go but he wouldn't… especially when he saw me," he shrugged his small shoulders, still not sure why his presences had made such a great impact on Bovin and his dwarves. He noticed Thorin's hands clenching into fists and that several dwarves were glancing between him and Thorin. He wanted to ask why, why was he so important, why did he matter so much, but forced himself to hold his tongue and continued with his tale.

"Mama cut one of Bovin's dwarves with Sting," there were a few pleased rumbles from the gathered dwarves, "but one of Bovin's dwarves hit her over the head and that was when we were taken."

"And no one saw any of you being taken?" Balin asked gently.

Frodo shook his head.

"N'uh. 'Cause we went out the back door and there ain't no houses out the back of the hill, only farm land and it was growing dark so no one would have seen us even if they had been around."

"And on your way out of the Shire?" Balin pressed on.

"The Shire's a big place and not all of its populated." Frodo replied, closing his eyes slightly as his mind brought up the map of the Shire his mother had shown him countless times. "It's easy for one to go through the Shire unnoticed if they don't take any roads and simply go by country. Many of my relatives never knew how many of you Mama travelled with due to them not seeing you all."

"But they would surely notice that you were all gone. None would think to send out search parties?" Dwalin rumbled, his massive arms crossed tightly against his chest, his face twisted into a thoughtful scowl as he leant a little forward to look more closely into Frodo's face.

"They never did when Mama went adventuring with you. Maybe they think we're out on an adventure," Frodo offered his small face pulling itself into a frown, unknowingly making many dwarves in the room mentally compare it to a younger more innocent version of their King's infamous scowl.

"Or not." Frodo continued after a moment's thought, "Not with Lotho. Lotho would never go on an adventure. Not ever. Grandpapa would never willingly go on an adventure either. I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Not that it would make much difference." He added a little dejectedly, "The first who would come after us wouldn't be armed and so Bovin would knock them off fore they knew what's what." When he saw that many of the dwarves were frowning at him, clearly confused, he quickly went on to elaborate.

"In the Shire, trouble isn't really expected, unless… unless it's a bad a winter and the wolves come in. Like, like," Frodo started to bounce as he remembered the old tales his mama would tell him on wild, stormy nights when the wind was howling outside their smial, "during the Fell Winter and the Brandywine froze over and we all had to rally together and fight them out." He was babbling and blushed deeply when he saw how the dwarves were raising their bushy eyebrows at him in amusement.

"So we won't be getting any armies of Halflings marching upon our doorstep anytime soon?" Dwalin smirked, his dark eyes twinkling.

"I mean," he added as he shot Thorin an amused grin, "we've had just about everyone else in Middle-Earth on our doorstep asking for war."

"Let's hope that it does not come to that." Thorin retorted though his lips twitched slightly upwards. However when he turned back to Frodo his expression was once more stern, "So no one from the Shire will be trying to rescue you or your mother."

"No, most likely not. Well, maybe the Took's and the Brandybuck's but they would need to know from where Mama and I need rescuing. Maybe a message could be sent to them from here to let them know that we're safe?" Frodo asked, looking hopefully up at Thorin from beneath his eyelashes.

"I don't see why we should, not when they're making no effort to help you Mam." Gloin retorted before he let out a grunt of pain as someone, Frodo thought it might be Oin, smack him around his skull.

"We'll see." Was all Thorin said on the matter before he started shooting off questions about Frodo's travels to the Lonely Mountain. How long he and his mother had travelled on the road before they were separated, why they were separated, did the dwarves take good care of him and so on.

Frodo tried to answer all of the Dwarf King's questions without rambling but that was difficult for Frodo had so much to say on the matter and yet so little of it was actually important.

By the end of interrogation – for that was how it felt to Frodo – Frodo was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in the armchair and cry.

He tried to fend off the tears he knew were coming but he quickly found himself fighting a losing battle and started sniffing miserably as the dwarves around him argued over their next course of action.

"Ah, oh dear." He heard someone say and quickly realised that his weeping had been discovered. He tried vainly to wipe away the tears, only for more to replace the ones that he had wiped away.

"Ah, laddie, it's alright, no need…" Bofur started to say as he knelt down by Frodo's armchair when the door of Thorin's study burst open.

Thorin looked completely exasperated at the sudden intrusion into his study by another dwarf and Frodo could have sworn he heard him mutter, "Does no one know how to knock?" before he exclaimed out a name that Frodo was very certain that he had never heard before.

"Dis." The dwarf standing in the doorway of the study was dressed in rich blue robes, sapphires and gold and silver threads inlaying the collar and the edges of the robe. Silver clasps were threaded intricately through the dwarf's black as night hair, shinning softly in the study's soft firelight.

"Don't you 'Dis' me, Thorin Oakensheild." The dwarf snapped as she – and she was a she, Frodo realised with a start even though she had a lovely black beard gently gracing her chin and cheekbones, intricately woven into the braids on the rest of her hair - marched into the study and stood right up into Thorin's face, "I thought I requested, no demanded, to be informed immediately on when the child was discovered."

"I…" If Frodo was in a somewhat less teary mood he might have been quite tempted to giggle to see the Dwarf King look so flustered and tongue-tied, "I… Dwalin?"

"You were speaking with the high counsel, your highness." Dwalin said as he stepped smoothly forwarded, "I left a message…"

"You should have just come in and told me yourself." Dis snapped glaring furiously at the tall tattoo dwarf who looked as meek as he was possibly able to look being as fierce looking as he was, "Like I care for what those…"

"DIS!" Thorin said raising his voice and interrupting a long line of, Frodo was sure, Dwarven curses that did not speak very highly of the ancestors of whoever sat of Thorin's High Counsel.

"Oh," Dis said impatiently, "like you care what I say about the old maggots. In fact I believe I've heard you say worse things in regards…"

"It is not for those reasons why I've stopped you," Thorin retorted looking exasperated and at quite the end of whatever was left of his patience, "I am stopping you because…" he gestured without looking in Frodo's directions.

Frodo shrank back as yet another pair of cold blue eyes burned into him though at least these eyes were quick to soften upon finishing their analysis of him.

"So, this is him, is it?" the dwarrowdam asked and Frodo was only now struck with how much this madam dwarf looked like Thorin. And Kili too for that matter, now that he thought about it. Was she his mother? Would explain why his uncle appeared to be trying to make himself as small as possible, hiding behind Bofur.

Did Thorin have a sister? Frodo scrunched up his nose trying to remember, was this said sister? If so, she was just as terrifying as her Kingly brother.

"Yes, it is." Thorin replied simply.

Dis moved slowly towards him a gentle smile gracing her lips, her heavy robes wiping softly against the stone floor.

"Hello little one." She came to stand before him.

"Hello." Frodo replied shyly, blushing deeply when she gently took his chin in her worn hand, her dark blue eyes eying him critically as she torn his head this way and that.

"Our forefather's blood is strong." She looked over her shoulder back at Thorin who simply hmph'ed

"Huh?" Frodo asked intelligently causing several dwarves to chuckle. Frodo wanted to push for answers, to ask what was so funny but was stopped when a loud yawn escaped from him.

He blushed and muttered "Sorry."

"Come here, mim ze," Dis said with an amused smile as she held out her hand for him to take, "Let us get you ready for bed."

Frodo hesitated for a moment looking to his uncles and lastly Thorin, who nodded his permission before he slide himself carefully out of the armchair, frowning as he placed his bandaged feet on the floor. It felt rather like walking on mushrooms.

"What is it with Hobbits and their obsession with mushrooms?" Frodo jumped realising he must have muttered his thoughts out loud.

"Waste of perfectly good mushrooms." He replied with a pout before blushing knowing his mother would chide him for his cheek, but instead of being told off he found that he had caused, once again, for the dwarves in the room to laugh.

"Bilbo's son indeed." Balin said with a fond chuckle.

"Come along mim ze." Frodo took hold of Dis hand, feeling oddly reassured to be placed into her care, if only because she had a mother's presences about her. A presences he had been longing to find himself in for many weeks.

He walked carefully out of the study on his mushroom padded feet. He had just gone out of the room before stopping and looking back over his shoulder at the dwarves.

"You will find Mama, won't you?" he asked tentatively, looking at each dwarf before looking at Thorin. "Please?"

"Of course we will laddie," Dwalin rumbled as he moved to ruffle Frodo's curls, "Of course we will."

Frodo swallowed nervously, took one more look around at the dwarves in the room before giving a jerky sort of nodded and allowing Dis to lead him away and out of the his study and Frodo's mind suddenly collapsed into a sleepy mush as a heavy weight left his shoulders.

Chapter Text

It had been a good many years since Dis had carried a child quite so small as the child currently in her arms, but she had not forgotten the feeling of doing so.

The poor child had quickly tired almost a corridor away from Thorin's study. And though he did not speak a word of his tiredness to her she had felt him lagging and stumbling behind her as the grip on her hand grew loss and clumsy.

She hadn't said a word as she stopped to swing him into her arms and he made only a few words of protest before his arms wrapped themselves around her neck, his face burying in the collar of her robes.

Her heart gave a little flutter over once more holding a child in her arms before she quickly brushed the silly emotion aside as she barked out orders – in a low tone so as not to disturb the exhausted child in her arms – at passing servants for them to get ready one of the royal guest rooms and for a bath to be drawn. She also demanded for someone to bring Bombur's wife Eir – she only hoped she wouldn't be inconveniencing the pregnant Dwarrowdam from her own brood - to her and for her to bring some of her lads' old clothes that were too small for them.

She ignored the bewildered looks the servant shot in her direction – or more correctly in the direction of the child in her arms – as they scuttled away to obey her bidding.

She was pleased to find that the royal guest room that she had ordered to be made ready for Frodo upon hearing of his existence from Thorin earlier that day already warm and filled with light, though it did have a faint dusty smell to it still.

One dwarf lass was busy making up the huge bed before stopping as she took note of Frodo's size. She made a humming noises before heading out of the chamber past Dis, returning a few short moments later with an armful of pillows and cushions which she started strategically placing around the bed.

"Until a cot can be brought up my lady," the dwarf lass said as she brushed her fair hair out of her face.

"No cot," the little lad mumbled as he turned his tired gaze upon the dwarf lass, "me not-me not a baby." His sentence finished in a small yawn.

Dis saw that the lass was fighting hard not to coo over the boy so she quickly sent the girl off to the kitchens to bring up some supper for her nephew.

Once the fair haired girl had left the bedchamber another lass with a lovely chestnut brown beard neatly braided into an elegant braid that crowned the top of her head, appeared in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom informing Dis that the bath had been drawn.

"Wake laddie. Bath time." She smirked as the little lad pulled the universal little boy look of disgust at the mention of bath time. But unlike with her own lads when it came to bath time, she did not have to fight him to get him near the tub.

He stood half-awake as she undressed him of his filthy, ruined clothes on one the bathing room marble benches.

She hummed over his bandaged feet for a moment before getting the servant girl to place a small stool at one end of the tub for the boy stick his bandaged feet on. Then together the two of them neatly plopped him into the tub of warm water.

The little lad let out a small squeal as his body sunk in the warm water and started to squirm about, almost knocking his bandaged feet into the water.

"Hush now. Hush. Settle mim ze." Dis said as she ran a calming hand over the lad's curly black head. The lad settled almost immediately, his little hands lightly waving over the water's surface creating the tiniest of ripples.

Dis dispatched herself from her heavy court robes so that she know wore only a simple blue gown which she rolled the sleeves of up to her elbows as she bent forward to start washing all the mud and grime that had coated itself to the child's skin.

"My lady?!" The young servant lass moved forward, looking apprehensive about seeing her King's sister without her royal robe and washing an unknown child.

"Pfft, it is fine. Make yourself useful and get me some soap, the little lad is filthy. You should also get ready some more buckets of water; I think it will take several tubs before he is respectably clean."

"Of-of course my lady." The girl stuttered and did as she was asked quickly and efficiently. But even so, Dis was gratefully for when Eir, Bombur's loud and outspoken wife – and quite heavily pregnant with their fourth child and hopefully, if Mahal was willing, this one would be born with life in its body unlike the dear little lad born to them eight summers back blue and still, never to breath, never to laugh, never to grow - arrived with a basket of old but clean and neatly folded clothes under one arm and the fair haired lass carrying a covered tray of food at her other elbow.

"Hmph, look at him." Eir snorted as placed the basket of clean clothes down upon a bench, "looks as much of mess as my laddies' do after they've snuck down one mine or another after Bofur. Look's like 'im."

Dis nodded her head as she rubbed some more soap into the boy's thick curls, "The blood runs strong, that is for sure." Eir nodded before she set about searching threw her basket of clothes to find something small enough to fit the tiny lad.

It took three refills of the tub before the lad was anywhere near to respectably clean and another refill to wash off all the soap they had used to get him clean.

"I'm a prune." Frodo commented sleepily as he held up his wrinkled fingers for Dis and Eir to inspect as Eir lifted him gently out of the tub.

"Aye, that ya are laddie." Eir chuckled as she wrapped a towel around him and gathered another start drying his wet curls.

"Arms up?" Eir said as Dis handed her a sleeping shirt. Frodo lifted his arms above his head, his eyes glazed over with tiredness.

Dis was sorting through his old clothes for anything salvageable when her fingers brushed against something that she had only felt on very rare and special occasions. She bit back a gasp as she pulled from beneath Frodo's shirt a coat of shimmering rings.

"Mithril." She whispered through barely moving lips.

"That's my coat." She looked away from the coat to Frodo who was peering up at her with tired sapphire orbs, "Or Mama's coat really. I just borrowing it." he yawned, his shoulders slouching forwarded causing the collar of the sleep shirt to slip down his dreadfully thin shoulder.

This time Dis could not stop the gasp that escaped her lips when she saw the all too familiar mark imprinted upon the little lad's shoulder.

"My lady?" Eir questioned Dis carefully; clearly worried for her King's sister as well as for her friend.

"I need to see my brother." Dis said as soon as she was able to collect her thoughts into an orderly fashion.

"Now?" Eir asked bewildered.

"Yes, now. And I need to take the child with me." She said as she lifted the child into her arms once more, him being simply too tired to protest, his head coming to rest upon her collar bone.

If it were earlier in the evening she might have pulled her heavy court robe back on, simply for appearance sake but as it was considered late under the mountain she did not bother as many of the noble-born dwarves who might have had a problem with seeing the King's sister dressed in anything but her proper royal garb should all be away in their chambers, she proceeded without hesitation out of the bedchamber and headed in the direction of Thorin's private study, not giving a wit when she heard him complain about people and their inability to knock on closed doors before entering a private room and the snorts of amusement from his old company who were still residing inside the room.

"Dis." Thorin grated at her as a way of greeting as she marched unannounced – once again – into his private study. She was pleased to see that his eyes soften some when they saw in her arms she carried the child of the Halfling he had been – and still was no matter how much he might try to deny – so in love with. Though only for a moment before they became as hard as sapphires.

"Dis, he is meant to be in bed."

"And he will be, but first," she carefully placed the Mithril onto Thorin's desk, which caused several bewildered mutters and exclamations. Thorin didn't even give the coat a single glance; instead his eyes remained firmly upon his sister or rather, upon the boy child in her arms.

"Dis?"

Without a word, she gently placed the sleepy lad upon Thorin's desk and carefully pulled down the collar of his night shirt so that all present could see the strange but familiar mark upon his shoulder.

"Ah…" was all the ever wise Balin seemed to be able to say on the matter. All the other dwarves in the room simply stared at the mark, dumbfounded.

"Do you think she knew?" Dis asked as she put her arms around the sleepy child to keep him from falling off the desk.

"Doubtful." Thorin muttered his hand raised hesitantly towards the boy's shoulder before he quickly withdrew it. "She knew some of our history but not all."

"Naturally." Dis said as she gently brushed the little boy's curls from his sleeping face.

"She was clever though," Balin said softly his words returning to him. "She must have suspected, though…" he looked to where Kili, Ori, Bofur and Bifur were still standing staring dumbfounded at the child.

"She never said a word about this to any of you?" Balin addressed the four dwarves.

"Uh…"

"No, not a word." Ori answered for them, blinking his dark eyes as he stared at the little lad as if now seeing him in a new light.

"Probably thought that it was normal." Dwalin grunted, "The lad's half dwarf, she probably was expecting a few odd runes on him here and there, though she of course would never have expected that one. You," Dwalin looked down at his brother, "never taught her that rune did you?"

"Not in this context, no." Balin shook his white head regretfully.

"It must have worried her still, to have a mark on her child that she did not know the meaning of." Dis said as she gathered the boy back into her arms.

"She could have always asked." Kili grumbled before blushing when his mother shot him a dry look. He was going to get such an earful when his mother had a spare moment.

"The lassie was always frighten that we might take him from her," Bofur muttered, his furred hat falling over his eyes, "and knowing her, she would 'ave seen it as only another reason for him to be taken away. 'specially if she knew what the mark meant."

"Durin the Deathless," Dwalin looked around at them all, his eyes glittering in a bemused sort of way, "reborn into a," he looked over at Ori and the others for confirmation, "Dwobbit." He whistle softly threw his teeth, "Never thought I would live to see the day."

"Nor I."

"Or I."

"Aye."

Dis looked at her older brother who looked rather like his had taken an orc sword to the gut as he sat heavily down into his armchair, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of his desk.

"The prophets spoke that his rebirth was upon us." Dis reminded him gently.

Thorin tore his gaze away from the sleeping child in her arms to look her in the eyes, only she saw the panic that filled them. He then looked away from her and stared at the mithril coat that lay upon his desk where she had placed it moments before, he brow creasing.

"Where?"

"He was wearing it." She replied, "Said that he was borrowing it from his mama?" she gave him a look and he simply shook his head, his eyes closed as he leant back in his chair.

"Right," she said, taking charge as her brother looked to be simply too overwhelmed by his own thoughts to muster up the energy to kick his eleven closest friends out of his study for the night. "Everyone out."

Using one hand she managed to usher all the dwarves, including her two sons out of her brother's office and back to their own chambers for the night.

"I'll be by to check 'is feet in the morning." Oin rumbled as he and Gloin departed.

"Good, we will see you then. Good Night."

Once all the old company had departed for the night Dis turned back to her brother who was still leaning back in his chair, eyes closed and looking close to death with the dark shadows under his eyes and the pallor his skin beneath his beard.

"That means you too, brother dear." Dis said with an impatient stamp of her foot that caused the sleepy child in her arm to whine sleepily against her collar. The whine was what snapped Thorin from whatever thoughts were overwhelming his mind causing him to look sharply in their direction.

"Come," Dis order, though her tone was gentle, "I'm off to put the little one to bed, you might as well come along as it is the same direction as your own chambers."

"Dis."

"Thorin." He groaned and with some rather unnecessary grunting and swearing he was out of his armchair – she didn't fail to miss seeing him sneak the mithril coat into his coat pocket - and by her side but keeping a fair distance between himself and the child in her arms.

Dis rolled her eyes to the heavens at the ridiculousness of her brother.

"You're going to have be closer to him sooner or later." She growled lowly at him as they left his study for the night and walked back through the maze of corridors for the royal chambers.

"I am close to him. I'm right next to him right now."

"Thorin." She growled and without any warning at all she all but shoved the sleeping child into his arms.

Thorin cursed as his arms shot out to grab the child before he fell tumbling to the stone floor. Frodo whined once more but still didn't wake, his body moving to mould into Thorin's chest.

"See," Dis said with a wave of her hand, ignoring her brother venomous looks as he adjusted the child more comfortably in his arms, "You're fine."

"I could have dropped him with that stunt."

"But you didn't." Dis retorted as she opened the door to the bedchambers that would be Frodo's for however long his stay in Erebor was.

Thorin simply scowled at her before moving awkwardly into the bedchamber. Eir was still in there with the two servant lass, both of whom gave small squeaks of surprise as Thorin entered and dropped into hurried curtsies. Of which Thorin ignored and Dis was quick to dismiss both girls while Eir stood off the side clearly not sure whether to stay or to go.

"Will he be alright?" Thorin asked after they had settled the boy into a section of the bed with pillows piled around to make sure he didn't accidently roll off the bed during the night. Most dwarves upon reaching adulthood slept on their back and did not move about much during the duration of their slumber but dwarrow youngsters were known to toss and turn in the night and Frodo appeared to be at the exact age where this habit begun. "Being alone, all by himself?"

"Would you have him returned to his…" Dis held her tongue, stopping her from speaking the word family in case it infuriated her brother in some way.

Thorin hesitated all the same.

"It is late," He muttered more to himself than to her, "and a servant already reported to Dwalin that they had all gone to bed."

"In the morning, I will take him to them." Dis offered. "Or Kili will. I'm sure he will be only too happy to do so."

"Yes, I am sure." Thorin snorted. "Maybe it would be best…" he trailed off and shook his head.

"Her father might appreciate it if you were present also." Dis offered and Thorin glanced at her, his eyes filled with panic once more before nodding.

"Sire," Thorin and Dis looked back around at Eir who was standing nervously by the chamber's door, "I'd be happy to watch over the mim ze for the night. I've done so many times with my little ones."

"No," Thorin said before Dis could speak a word in edgewise, "the lad should be fine. And if he should wake during the course of the night, myself or Dis, or one my nephews will hear and see to him."

Eir hesitated for a moments, casting a glance towards Dis before she nodded and bowed as she took her leave of the room.

Dis raised her eyebrows at her brother but said not a word as they left Frodo's bedside and the chamber altogether. He would have to learn the lessons of being a parent one way or another, though she suspected even with all the training he had had with her boys, his way of learning would be the long and difficult road.

She just hoped the little lad wouldn't suffer too badly while his father tried to find his way, stumbling the whole time, along the road of parenting. After all, Thorin was not known for his sense of direction.

Chapter Text

Frodo woke in a warm bed with an almost overwhelming sensation of safety and comfort flooding his senses. He was home and any moment now, his mama would be coming into his room, saying that it was time for breakfast and he would fly out of bed and hug her, telling her how much he loved her and that he had had the most terrible of dreams that had involved being captured by bad dwarves and dragged across the land and then being separated from her and the misery that had caused him.

Not, he thought as he wiggled about in his bed, that all his dream was bad. Some of it had been quite good, like being in Erebor and meeting all of his mama's old company. That had been fun, well most of it had been.

He buried his face into the pillow before stiffening. Wait… what?

He slowly lifted his head from the pillow and looked around him, letting out a small cry that was torn between dismay and excitement.

He was in a stone bedchamber; fairly bare in décor and furniture – besides from the bed he was sitting in, a wooden wardrobe and desk – with a small fireplace at one side, the embers glowing gently behind the grate. There were two doorways in the room, one obviously leading out of the bedchamber while the other clearly opened into a bathing room.

Frodo cautiously swung himself out of the bed, lightly dropping on the stone floor. He scowled when he saw the state of his feet, still bandaged in white cloth with soft padding on the soles of his feet. He spent a moment or two trying to pull the bandages off but quickly discovered that his fingers were simply too small and weak to unclasp the melt clips that held the bandages in place and from unwrapping.

He grumbled darkly under his breath as he walked cautiously over to the desk where some clean clothes had been laid out for him. Most of the garments were too large for him and he had to roll up the tunic and trousers several times or else he would be unable to use his hands and he would trip over his already awkward feet.

He stood then, in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do next, only knowing that he was hungry and oddly enough bored. He was in a new place and he was bored… that wasn't supposed to happen when one was in a new place!

There was meant to be only feelings of excitement and maybe apprehension… boredom should not fit into the equation in anyway shape or form! But he was and after a few more moments of allowing the boredom to truly sink in and under his skin, Frodo thought of way to rid himself of the nasty sensation.

A voice in his head protested as he reached for the handle of the bedroom door, growing louder as he turned it and opened the door, sticking his head out into the corridor outside. It was empty.

He exhaled heavily as he looked up and down the corridor, curiously observing the huge and heavy tapestries that decorated the walls of the corridor, many of depicting battles that were oddly familiar to him.

He walked aimlessly down the corridor, wrapped in his own little world of making up the tales behind the battles the tapestries portrayed.

He was almost at the end of the corridor when he felt a pair of hands catch themselves beneath his armpits and hoist him upwards.

He couldn't help the squeal of surprise that escaped his lips and pouted bitterly at the dwarf who had grabbed and was now proceeding to laugh at him.

"Lil' rascal." Kili greeted him cheerily as Frodo pouted from where Kili had set him on his hip, "where were you off to?"

Frodo shrugged but blushed when his tummy rumbled causing Kili to laugh again.

"Explains everything." He chuckled as he poked his finger lightly against Frodo's all too thin belly.

"What is going on here?" Frodo felt Kili stiffen and peered cautiously over his uncle shoulder to where Thorin – dressed in a rather simple blue tunic and brown trousers, not very Kingly garments at all and yet Thorin still managed to look every bit the King he was – was standing a little way back up the corridor from them, watching them with unreadable blue eyes.

"Morning Uncle." Kili greeted the dwarf king as cheerily as he had greeted Frodo moments earlier, only Frodo could hear the steel edge underlying Kili's tone. Thorin had obviously heard it also but said nothing of it; he simply seemed to be waiting for Kili to say more. Or maybe he expected Frodo to say something.

He open his mouth, thinking he may at least say 'hello' only for Kili to give him a gentle but warning look to simply stay quiet. He did so and gladly.

"We're off to get some breakfast." Kili continued on lightly, "and then maybe we'll go exploring." Frodo beamed widely at the mention of his two favourite pastimes in almost the same breath.

Thorin, however, did not return the smile.

"No exploring until the child's grandfather and… uncles have seen him and know that he is safe and sound."

"Oh," Frodo said blushing, remembering his hobbit family that he had all but forgotten about when he had abandon them in his mad dash for freedom, "Grandpapa."

"Yeah," Kili drawled flicking Frodo's nose, "Remember him. He's been worried sick since you pulled your disappearing act. Him and your uncles."

Frodo raised his eyebrows at this.

"Even Uncle Lotho?" Frodo asked, imitating the tone him mama used when she was being sarcastic. This seemed to amuse Kili quite a bit. In fact, Frodo swore that he even saw Thorin's lips twitch upwards for a brief second.

"Aye, even him." Kili replied, "Though he seemed more worried about what your mama was going to do to them when she came here and discovered that you were lost."

Frodo face fell at the mention of his mother.

"I'm gonna be in so much trouble…" he mumbled, wincing.

"What makes you think you're not already in trouble?" Kili questioned him with an amused grin, "Just because your mama isn't here doesn't mean you're free of punishment until she arrives."

Frodo once more raised his eyebrows at his dwarf uncle who let out another laugh.

"Oh, is that how it is, is it?" Kili chortled, "You think you won't be punished until Bilbo arrives and by then you think we'll all have just forgotten, huh? Is that how it is?" Frodo simply continued to stare at his uncle who was almost doubled over as he tried not laugh, a feat made difficult with him holding Frodo.

"You cheeky little…"

"Kili," Frodo and Kili's – his laughing fit immediately sobered by his uncle's commanding tone - heads both snapped in Thorin's direction having both forgotten his presences. He looked as if he was trying to keep his features under control.

To stop himself from shouting at us, Frodo thought miserably.

"Eh, right… Breakfast and then off to see your hobbit family." Kili said, glancing at his uncle, clearly questioning whether or not Thorin have a problem with this plan.

"Feed the child and I will meet the two of you outside of the Halflings quarters in an hour." Thorin said before turning on his heels and storming back into his personal chambers, his door closing with a firm click.

"I don't think he likes me very much." Frodo mumbled as he and Kili moved down some stairs and into a kind of common room where servant dwarves were moving about, carrying trays of food and building the huge fire at one end of the room.

"No, Frodo." Kili said as he set Frodo down on the long bench at the table that stood in the middle of the room, "that isn't it. Not at all." Kili shook his head, his dark brown eyes wide and sincere. Despite his still very present doubts, Frodo simply nodded and allowed for Kili to settle him down on the bench, calling for a dwarrow maid to bring forth some much needed breakfast.

Breakfast, that upon appearing, quite stole all of Frodo's fears and worries and he wholeheartedly ate everything that Kili piled onto his plate. Which was a lot and Frodo had two more helpings of similar portions.

Kili chuckled as Frodo finally pushed his away his half-finished third helping, his tummy finally happy and full.

"Hungry?" Kili teased with a grin as he ruffled Frodo black curls. Frodo smiled widely back up at him.

"I was just a little. But I'm full now though."

"Well then, best get you back to your Grandfather, shouldn't we huh?" Frodo sighed heavily but nodded his head. He thanked the dwarrow maids who had brought him his breakfast as he swung himself off the stone bench. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Kili giving the maids a warning look before he found himself once more being swung up into Kili's arms.

"Come on, let's go and see your Grandfather and Uncles."

They left the common room, moved back up the corridor they had previously come down. They pasted Thorin's chambers and the chamber Frodo had slept in the night before. They moved down two more corridors before they came to a chamber where a number of dwarves were milling around.

"Took your time." Dwalin rumbled with a small smirk as the two of them join the party outside a chamber's door.

"He was hungry." Kili replied simply as he settled Frodo down on the ground in front of the chamber's door. Frodo hesitated in front of it, wondering what it was that they were all waiting for and why they just didn't open the door already.

"Thorin." Oh, yes… they were waiting for him. Frodo snuck a glance in the direction that the Dwarf King, with Balin by his side, was striding towards them, his face set in what Frodo could only class as sheer determination. Though what Thorin had to be determined about Frodo had no idea.

He didn't say word when he reached them, only nodding his head for Dwalin to open the door. Frodo felt both Kili and Bofur give both his shoulders a reassuring squeeze as the door opened into a very nicely furnished chamber. However, he did not have much time to admire the chamber for as soon as he took a step into the chamber he was swipe into the arms of his uncles.

"Now where have you been Frodo lad!" His uncle Paladin cried as he hugged him close while Saradoc took in his current state, huffing slightly when he saw Frodo's feet bandaged.

"Um…" Frodo couldn't think what to say. He didn't want to admit the reason for his panic attack and running off deep within heart of the mountain, not when the reason was walking into the chamber with the rest of the dwarves.

"Um," he said again as he glanced around the room, spotting someone he hadn't really given much thought to sitting in an armchair by the fire.

"Grandpapa" Frodo wiggled out of Paladin's arms and shot across the room to his grandfather's side. His grandfather, thankfully was looking a great deal better than he had when they had been on the road together, with there now being a bit more colour to his cheeks and his eyes were not quite so glazed over.

"Frodo?" His grandfather squinted at him, "where have you been my little lad."

"Ah… exploring?" he offered his grandfather his best and most innocent smile that had his hobbit uncles' snorting under their breathes while his grandfather simply shook his white curly head.

Frodo closed his eyes as his grandfather laid an old and wrinkling hand upon his head and gently ruffled his curls.

"Gave - gave us quite a start, you-you did." His grandfather said softly, "Don't think I've been quite so worried since… no, not in years. Not since your mama went running out our door on that mad venture of hers. The one she took into her head that she must go on. Her Tookish side won threw at last, I – I suppose."

"Too right to." Uncle Paladin chuckled, "it was about time Auntie Bilbo did something entirely unrespectable and unexpected. We were getting worried that she was all Baggins, threw and threw, until she went running out her door and disappeared with these lot." It was then that Frodo remembered that it wasn't just his family standing in the chamber but also at least thirteen dwarves as well.

His grandfather looked at them all curiously but said not a word, clearly waiting for them to speak first. Which they did, or rather Kili did as he stepped forward with a wide, bright smile, his arms spread out in a gesture of welcome.

"Good morning Mister Baggins." Frodo watched his grandfather as his grandfather eyed thoughtfully his uncle before giving a small nod.

"Good-Good morning, Kili. So you're along on this venture as well, are you?"

"Well, you could say that." Kili replied with a cheerful air about him, "I actually live here. Welcome to Erebor."

"Some welcoming." The old hobbit sighed softly a he ran a hand over Frodo's curls. After a moment he looked away from Frodo's face to once more look back and Kili and the rest of the dwarves, his wrinkled face crumbling into a frown.

"Erebor?" He looked at the dwarves with puzzled, confused eyes, "Where is my daughter? Where is Billanna?"

Frodo watched Kili flounder for a moment before Thorin stepped forward.

"Your daughter is not currently here." The dwarf king said speaking slowly, almost cautiously, "But we are doing everything in our power to return her to you… and your grandchild."

"Well… well, since you returned him to me," Bungo stuttered as he looked down at Frodo again, "I suppose - suppose I'll have to - to take your word for it." He sagged into the armchair a little as he finished speaking, sadness creeping in his old lined face.

"And then what?" Frodo jumped and looked around startled to see Lotho stalk out from one bedrooms off the chamber, his eyes blazing with a brilliant fire that Frodo was not even aware his uncle possessed. "Then what, Master Dwarves? You will just send us home?"

"Lotho." Both of Frodo's hobbit uncles' moaned as they shook their heads.

"Of course," Balin replied calmly while the other dwarves grumbled about Lotho's disrespectful tone towards their King.

Lotho shook his head, his lips pursed firmly into a straight line.

"No," Lotho replied with a shake of his dark head, "I don't think you will. I don't know what is that she's done, and truthfully I don't care, but whatever it is, whatever trouble Billanna has landed herself into face first and is still in waist deep, when she comes here after you've found her, you're not going to simply let us go."

"You doubt our honour?" Gloin growled furiously, his red beard bristling.

"I doubt," Lotho spoke slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully, "the truth behind your words of letting us go once Billanna has been returned to us. She is important to you and you have unfinished business with her. I can see that any, any fool can see that. And…" And here Frodo felt his cheeks turn red as Lotho gave him one of his customary distasteful looks, "the lad is an entirely other mess altogether. But that is all your business and hers, it has nothing to do with any of us, you have no reason, no claim to keeping the rest of us here. Not against our will."

"So you would leave now, not knowing whether or not your kin was returned alive and safe here." Dwalin questioned.

"As Billanna got herself into this mess, threw herself in head first, she can get herself out of it. There is no reason and you have no right to hold any us accountable for whatever crimes or indiscretions Billanna Baggins has committed against you or whoever else she met of that mad venture she took it into her head to go on with the lot of you."

"You are not being held here against your will," Thorin replies calmly and patiently even though Frodo can see that the Dwarf King has clenched his fists at his uncle's words and that they are trembling some. "You are here because you are in need of protection, protection we are offering you freely."

"It's not free." Lotho retorted angrily, "it' because of her. This is all because of her. If she had just been… if she had just acted like the proper hobbit lass that she was meant to be, none of this would have happened and everything would be as it should be. But instead, instead we are having to suffer the consequences of her actions and she could be very well dead because she didn't think any further than desperate desire to…"

"What?" Paladin snorted, a teasing grin in place but his eyes flicking warily towards the dwarves who looked ready to beat Lotho bloody, "not marry you? I'd be running out the door and running into danger too, Lotho old chum, if I was told I had to marry you."

Frodo blink his mouth hanging slack. Mama was meant to marry… Uncle Lotho?

"You?" Kili squawked Frodo's surprise mirrored in his face, "You're the hobbit lad she was meant to marry that day…" He seemed unable to finish as he fell forward in a peal of laughter.

"Yes," Lotho replied testily, "and she would have done so if it hadn't…" but his words were lost in chuckling and thoroughly amused choir of dwarves who were speaking all at once at this hilarious discovery.

Frodo only caught snippets of what the dwarves said, but all of them seemed to think that by having his mother along of their adventure they had saved her from a fate worse than death itself. Well all of them except for Thorin, but then the dwarf king never seemed to be amused by anything, though he was eyeing Lotho with something that was akin to loathing.

"Are you quite done?" Lotho shouted after a time, his face beet red and his hands trembling furiously by his side. The dwarves looked back at him with raised eyebrows at him.

"Yes, I believe we are." Thorin said and he turned his attention to Frodo's two other uncles' and his grandfather. "You are not being held here against your will, but for your own safety. As soon as Billanna has been recovered and danger has passed, you are welcome to leave. An escort will be provided to return you all to the Shire?"

Frodo watched as his uncles looked at each before looking over at the huffing Lotho to where he sat beside his grandfather in his armchair.

"All of us?" Saradoc asked his dark eyes searching Thorin's, "Even Bilbo and Frodo?"

"If that is her wish, then yes." Thorin replied without pause but Frodo could see that he seemed strain and fighting to keep his voice neutral.

His two uncles' shook their heads ever so slightly and Lotho snorted from the corner of the chamber that he had tucked himself into.

There was some more discussion to be had, much of which Frodo grew to be quickly bored of and had taken it upon himself to inspect every inch the living chamber, hunting for secret passageways or maybe a stone that hid away valuable treasure.

He, of course, found no such thing but by that time he had gotten quite bored of this game and had wandered back to where the adults were talking the adults had decided that it would be best for them all to stay put until his mother was found and brought to Erebor. It was also decided much to his chagrin that he would now be in the care of his hobbit family, which of course meant that any kind of exploring or fun in general around the mountain was now off limits he would now be stuck within the confines of the chambers his hobbit family had been given to stay in for the duration of their stay.

He tried ever so hard not to pout at the thought of hours of complete boredom that were in store for him until his mother arrived in Erebor, but it was hard.

He was in a new place and all that he had seen of the inside of it was a lot of dark corridors, storerooms and some living chambers. None of which truly lived up to his expectations of the Lonely Mountain from his Mama's story.

"You wouldn't maybe, if it's not too much trouble of course," Frodo heard his Uncle Saradoc start to speak, "be able to bring us some things, like some books and toys. Frodo has more energy than the four us combined and we'll have an extremely bored fauntling on our hands the moment you leave this room. And usually boredom with him at least, leads to all kinds of shenanigans and what with all the running about he has already caused you, delaying his boredom and directing his energy may be the best cause of action." Frodo couldn't stop the pout as he stared balefully up at his uncle who smiled knowingly back at him while his other uncle outright laughed at him. He crossed his arms across his small chest and huffed.

"And maybe," Bofur said with a twinkle in his eye, "when things are a tad more settled, he can go and play with the nephews."

Bombur nodded his head agreeably and the two brothers looked to their king, waiting for his approval.

Frodo shifted underneath Thorin's gaze, his dark blue eyes filled with emotions that Frodo did not know the name of.

"Of course." The dwarf king finally replied, "If the lad can keep his wandering feet under control and behaviours himself, then yes, when things have settled down some more, he may spend time with your lads." Bombur grinned widely at his king, bowing deeply. Well as deeply as he could with his huge belly – Frodo had to fight back a grin as he watched him.

Some more words were spoken, most of which went over Frodo's head and before long the dwarves were leaving. Again, Frodo had stop himself from expressing his disappointment, to keep himself from pouting, though his worries over not seeing his dwarves again were quickly vanquished with the promises of visits and exploration of the many, many tunnels of Erebor and toys and book from almost all his mother dwarves.

The only one who didn't offer any such promises was Thorin, who had to leave the hobbits' chambers before the other dwarves due to his presence at a Council meeting being required. Frodo wasn't sure why but it had hurt him right to his heart when the dwarf king had left without so much as a good bye or even a backwards glance.

Chapter Text

Thorin let out a deep breath before striding back down the corridor with Balin and Dwalin a step or so behind. The boy was safe and back with those who could care for him properly until his mother was brought to him.

His mother… Thorin's stomach flipped and tightened at the thought of what might be happening to her.

Was she now in the hands of Bzog? Or was there still hope of finding her before she was destroyed by some horrific fate.

He clenched his trembling hands into fists, fearing that in their desperate search for the lad they had wasted too much time in the search for his mother.

"She'll be fine Thorin. The dwarves both you and Dain sent out in search of 'er and Bovin will find them 'fore they reach Azog's Spawn." Dwalin rumbled as they entered Thorin's study, the door of which Thorin slammed shut.

"We'll find her laddie." Balin reassured as he and Dwalin stood back and watched their King stomp around to his desk.

"But there is no 'we'll' is there?" Thorin snarled furiously, his eyes glowing into the two brothers "We're not the ones out there looking for her!"

"Thorin," Balin sighed, rubbing his temple wearily, "you know why we can not. As we discussed last night after finding the little one, it would simply be too dangerous for you to go charging off in vague hope of finding one hobbit."

Thorin shot his old friend a very hard look.

"Laddie, you're king." Balin continued gently, regret laced heavily into his tone, "Politically you can't go running off after a hobbit, for several reasons. First being she is a hobbit. Secondly we have no exact idea where she is. And thirdly" Balin gave him a look that made Thorin's heart turn to stone for a moment before it started beating madly within his ears. He knew what Balin was not saying, what the third reason as to why he couldn't just run off and hunt down their hobbit as much as he wished that he could. Because in the eyes of all the Dwarves in Erebor she was still considered a traitor, and the King of Erebor should not and could not go risking his life for a traitor, no matter how much his heart might wish. Nor could any of his known affiliates. Even now he was pushing his council's patience with his sending out scouts and squads of guard searching for her.

Oh yes, both he and Balin had spun the tale about searching Bovin and of course, Bzog, but he knew that they now, upon hearing that the hobbit was alive and captured by Bovin, knew their king's focus had immediately flipped to finding her, to saving her, the traitor.

The word, as always when he thought of it in regards to her, made his mouth taste bitter, caused his stomach to churn and his heart to clench. Now so, more than ever, the word, when thought within the same mind stream as her made his wish all the harder that things had been different, that he had been different.

Their lives would have been different, she would never have been banished and thought to be dead on a battlefield for years, one of the countless victims of a battle she should never have been allowed to be anywhere near, let alone participate in.

She would never have had to have returned to her homeland in fear, in shame, with a belly swollen with a babe that was now almost as precious as her within his heart even though he knew the child for such a short amount of time and not simply because the boy was Durin reborn. That precious child who had grown into a young boy who knew he was different but with no idea why, his mother unable to give him the answers his child's mind sort. A boy who had been forced to grow without a father by his side. Forced to grow without even knowing who his father even was.

All that pain, all that confusion, all from the rash, prideful and mad actions of a dwarf king who had all but lost his mind because of some shiny metal and a thrice damn stone.

Thorin swallowed thickly as he stared down at his worn, blacksmith hands. That would all change, he would fix this. The damaged he had done, the grief he has caused, he will fix it all.

But there was no point looking to past, thinking of the what-ifs or could have been, he must set his mind to the here and now. And maybe with time and things have become settled he can look to the future and pray that it may be a bright one indeed for the Royal line of Durin.

Thorin shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the present – and not breaking anything from the lack of rescuing on their part – and allowed himself to be drawn in the plans that Balin and Dwalin were making in regards to what they would do upon finding the Defiler's Spawn.

Thorin was all for Dwalin smash first; ask questions later approach but Balin spoke sense in his questioning to know the reasons behind Bzog's actions.

"He's an Orc, brother!" Dwalin growled, "They needn't a reason to go out and kill! It is simply what they do!"

"But this is not what this orc has done," Balin replied patiently but Thorin could see that his old friend and adviser patience was growing thin. "He has planned, he has researched and I would like to know why…"

"Revenge! Simple!" Dwalin snapped and Thorin sighed as the two usually companionable and agreeable brothers glared at each other

"At the moment," He said raising his voice so as to remind the two that he is king and he really didn't have the time or patients to deal with them fighting as only brother's can, "I don't care about his reasons. What I care about is getting our burglar back, preferably alive and unharmed!"

The two brothers fell silent for a moment before nodding and murmuring their apologies and discussion once more turned back to strategies to deal with the orc spawn and his followers, in particular Bovin and his company and what was to be done with them.

"I think the lass should decide their fate." Dwalin offered, "When she's found and brought here, she can decide what is to be their fate. It's only fitting that she should as they are the ones who stole her from her home and separated her from her child."

Thorin snorted, trying to imagine their burglar handing out any type of punishment. Knowing her she would have them wash out every single pot and pan within Erebor, at the very worst.

"You underestimate her laddie." Balin said gently after Thorin spoke this thought, one that Dwalin had laughed heartily over in agreement. Thorin and Dwalin looked at him questioning and old dwarf smiled back at them wearily.

"That may have been true of the Bilbo we knew on our quest eleven years ago, but I would not go on to assume that this is still true of her now. She is a mother," he reminded them gently, "And mothers, regardless of what species they are, are the most dangerous of creatures to ever live upon Middle Earth. Especially a mother who has had her child threatened and stolen from her. If I were Bovin or any one of his company, I would be very afraid of her wrath."

Thorin nodded his head slowly.

Balin was right of course, and while Billanna had never shown any ability to stay angry for long nor hold a grudge during their quest, he was certain that would have all changed due to Bovin's and the Defiler's Spawns actions.

Thorin opened his mouth to say more when there was a polite knock upon his study's door.

Finally, Thorin thought idly as Dwalin moved to open it, someone knows how to knock.

A dwarf messenger walked cautiously into the Thorin's study, clutching a tightly bond scroll in his hand.

"Sire, a message arrived for you just this moment." The messenger held out the scroll for Thorin, bowing deeply once Thorin had relieved him of the message he bore.

"Thank you," Thorin replied, looking down at the scroll curiously, his eyes immediately recognising the scrawling writing of the second Ri brother from where his name had been written upon one side of the rolled scrolled. An intricate and impressive knotted cord bound the scroll close.

"You may leave." The messenger gave another bow and exited the study, closing its door quickly behind him.

"Thorin?" Dwalin questioned as he and Balin moved to his side.

"A message, from Nori it seems." Thorin replied lightly as his fingers struggled to with the intricate and complicated knots that bound the scroll closed. The knots prevented one from simply sliding the cord free or even cutting the cord as a means of opening the scroll. No, the only way for one to read on of Nori's messages was for one to have been taught by Nori himself as to how to undo his near impossible knots.

Thorin's fingers were not used to dealing with such a delicate and complicated task, but Nori had spent a great deal of time with him, teaching him the secrets behind the undoing of all his knots so after a few more moments of struggle the blue cord fell away and scroll rolled slightly open.

Thorin opened the scroll without hesitation though the moments he read the words his heart near stopped beating within his chest.

"Thorin?" Thorin found that words had deserted him and simply held out the scroll for Balin to read.

"Burgled myself a little bunny away from bad company. Little meat on bones but has strength in heart." Balin read before closing his eyes.

"The thief's finally lost it." Dwalin snorted snatching the scroll from Balin and reading the message himself, "what in Durin's name is he on about?"

"He's found our burglar." Balin responded rubbing his temple a small ghost of a smile gracing his lips, "And she is alive and strong for the most part. Thorin…" Balin was cut off by another knock on Thorin's study door.

His mind in a daze, Thorin opened it to reveal yet another messenger standing there holding out a scroll. This one did not possess the same complicated knotted cords as Nori's note but rather the knotting system of scouts.

With numb fingers he took this scroll from the puffing messenger before dismissing him with a quick wave of his hand.

This message was from one of his scouts possessed far more information than Nori's had but in saying that the information it possessed seemed to Thorin far less relevant. Bovin and his company had been found and apprehended and their prisoner was in the hands of wandering spymaster (Nori) and they would be arriving in Erebor in a week or so if the weather held out. It went on to speak more about Bovin and his company but did not speak much about Bovin's prisoner.

"This is good."" Balin said once Thorin had handed him the scroll to read, "This is very good." His old tired face was twisted into a wide smile.

"Good?" Dwalin snorted, his face breaking in to wide grin, "this is…" the large dwarf shook his head, words clearly failing him as his grin seemed to grow only wider.

"Thorin?" Both of Fundin's sons' suddenly turned their attention upon him and Thorin swallowed down the rock that was lodge in his throat.

"Yes," he head gave a jerky sort of nod, "this is good news. Very good news." He just wished his stomach would stop doing flips and that his heart would stop beating at the rate that an eagle flew.

She was safe. She would be within the safety and security of his mountain in all but a week or so. All of this was good news, the best of news in fact and yet he was completely and utterly terrified by it.

Chapter Text

For the first time since her child and family had been torn from her side, Bilbo stirred from her catatonic state.

Her head rolled listlessly upon the rolled up jacket which had been tucked under her head as a substitute pillow so that her head would not be laying up the cold hard rock beneath her like the rest of her body and peered out into the darkness beyond the campfire.

"Miss-miss Baggins?" She heard Ranon whisper close to her side, his hand gently coming to rest upon her stiff shoulder. She didn't respond – she hadn't responded to his queries about her health or state of mind since her son was taken from her – she simply continued to stare out into the darkness.

Something was coming, something new. A change was in the air, she could almost taste it.

Her bound hands moved to her worn and ruined waist coat, nimble fingers slipping within the pocket, their tips touching the cool metal band that was hidden inside.

Her ring seemed to be humming, almost like it too could sense the change that was coming for them tonight.

Good change, bad change, Bilbo couldn't really bring herself to care anymore she just wanted change to come. She just wanted this journey to end, one way or another.

She withdrew her magic ring from her waist coat pocket, fisting her hand closely around the golden band before allowing her body to return to its familiar limp state.

Her eyes were beginning to tire and her eyelids were starting to droop when she heard the first hint of the change arriving. The snapping of a twig quite near to where she lay.

She felt Ranon stiffen beside her but he made no sound in regards to what they had both certainly heard, though she did hear him pulling his axe closer to him.

She listened to the voices by the campfire, listening for any alterations in pitch or something that might hint that the group circling it had heard or felt the change nearing them. She heard nothing out of the ordinary and allowed for her body to relax and simply waited for the change to come to her. And it certainly did and with as much speed and explosive power as one of Gandalf's fireworks.

One moment the night was cool and empty of any sound besides the crackling of the fire and the low voices of the dwarves sitting around it and the next, from all around them came the sounds of bellowing orders, charging feet and metal clanking against metal.

She was able to roll herself into a small ditch, away from the madness that had descended upon the camp, the startled cries from the campfire as they desperately grabbed for their weapons as their enemies charged at them.

She grinned a tad maliciously when she heard a particularly loud yelp of pain being yelled out by Bovin.

Her hand unclenched around her ring and with trembling fingers tried to push it upon her middle finger. Not an easy feat when one had bound wrists and fingers that refused to stop trembling.

She was almost sobbing with frustration when she felt a hand come to rest upon her shoulder causing her clench the ring tightly in her hand as she kicked out blindly behind her. She heard the satisfying yelp of pain as her foot connected with a leg.

"OI! Lass, watch it!"

All thoughts of making a run for it quickly evaporated from her head as she whipped around and took in the familiar reddish brown hair done up in an intricate three point star hairstyle.

"NORI!"

Said dwarf gave her a wickedly cheeky grin as he pulled her into an embrace. He didn't seem to mind that she was close to hysterical or that she was wiping her runny nose all over his tunic as she buried her face into it.

"What-what," she sniffed, rubbing her eyes and nose as she pulled back a little, "what are you doing here?"

"Heard some very nasty rumours that our little burglar was in a good bit of trouble. Came to see for meself if that was true," he spoke lightly but Bilbo could hear and feel his rage as he glared over to where Bovin and his company were being rounded up and having their wrists and ankles shackled.

Bilbo shuddered though from what she wasn't entirely sure, her mind was truly a mess of emotions and thoughts and all she really wanted to do was sit down and try and process everything that had suddenly happened to her.

The good thing about Nori was she didn't even need to say that this was what she wanted, he seemed to simply know.

He took her a short distance away, but still remaining within the light of the fire, sat her down upon a rock and cut the ropes that had been cutting into her wrists for days. Though she hadn't realised just how badly until she watch her blood run down her wrists.

Nori spoke not a word of this; he simply bound her wrists before inquiring about her health in an almost detached medical fashion that was so unlike him.

She answered his inquires the best she could, noting that his eyes had grown less dark and possibly less murderous as she reassured him that her injuries, besides from her hurt wrists, were near none existed.

"I'm more hungry than hurt," she reassured him with a smile. At least she hoped it came out as a smile, it felt more like a grimace to her.

Nori nodded and handed her a bag of dried beef jerky. She didn't even wrinkle her nose or grumble as she had once done upon being introduced to this less than desirable food. She ate every strip that was in the bag and almost down the whole content of the water bottle Nori had offered her.

"Easy. Easy now." Nori said, taking hold of the bottle to slow her frantic drinking. "You're going to make yourself sick."

"Never stopped us before." She retorted back at him but she did slow down her drinking pace.

"Sir." Bilbo and Nori turned to look at a dwarf dressed in a smart suit of armour who had stopped a few feet away from them.

"Report." Nori replied easily as if he had been bossing around the king's guards all his life instead of spending a good chunk of it running from them.

"The prisoners have been secured and we are ready to return them to Erebor to face the judgement of our King." The guard spoke stiffly and Bilbo couldn't help but think that if his back was any straighter it would snap under the pressure.

"Good oh." Nori said with a wave of his hand, "We'll head out at first light. Get someone to bring around the ponies and wagon, there's a good fellow." The guard gave a stiff nodded before marching back to his fellow guardsman, relaying Nori's orders in a quick, curt fashion.

"I don't…" Bilbo started before blushing and shaking her head.

"You don't what, lassie?" Nori asked her gently, crouching down in front of her again, wrapping a spare blanket from his pack around her shoulders.

"I don't want to be near them." she waved her hand towards Bovin and his company, her head hanging low and stomach turning.

"You won't lass." Nori reassured her fiercely, "I won't let them near you ever again. I'll make sure that there is at least, at least a dozen guards between them and you at all times." He cupped her chin with one of his thieving, weather worn hands and made her look him in the eyes, "I promise you lassie. No one who you don't want anywhere near you will ever touch you under my watch."

"I know Nori, thank you."

He nodded before he suddenly became nervous, swallowing several times as he looked about him before glancing back at her.

"Speaking of um… touch… Bovin and the rest… they didn't… I mean, if they hurt you in…"

"No." She squeaked her cheeks flaming with horror and humiliation. "No, Nori, nothing like that happened… not ever. I am… I mean, I was just a parcel to them, to be delivered to…" she waved her hand vaguely, "they never lay a hand on me, not – not like that."

"You sure." Nori asked his tone gentle but the fierce look had returned to his eyes, "because if they have Bilbo, they…"

"No. No, Nori not ever. Yes, they hit me and hurt me, but not one of them, not once, ever did what you're…" she let her words trail off and watched silently as Nori shoulders dropped forwards as he closed his eyes in relief.

"Good. That-that is good. Because if they had," his smiled turned sadistic, "they wouldn't be returning to Erebor alive. I don't care how disappointed Thorin, Dwalin and the others would be, none of those lot would be returning with breath in their lungs if they…"

"But they didn't!" Bilbo interrupted him because it hurt to think about what he was implying could have very possibly happened to her, not to mention the throw away comment about a certain dwarf king's was also making her chest ache. "But they didn't Nori. They didn't lay a hand on me, not like that. They would never lower themselves to that level, not for a hobbit."

"Now, what's that's suppose to mean?" Nori growled and she simply shrugged, looking away from him and into the dark trees around them.

They sat together in silence until the desire to sleep became simply too strong to ignore.

"Don't," Bilbo whispered when Nori finally coaxed her into getting some rest, "Don't leave me."

Nori smiled down at her fondly as he pulled the blanket up around her chin.

"Wouldn't dream of it Lassie. Now sleep. We have a big day ahead of us; you'll need all the rest you can get."

Bilbo nodded her head slowly, her eyelashes brushing against her cheeks as sleep started to fog up her mind. But she didn't fall into a proper slumber until Nori had taken one of her hands in his, his thumb gently stroking the back of it, soothing her into a dreamless sleep.

TMPoT

Nori ignored the looks he was being given by both the King's guards and the prisoners. What did he care what they thought as they looked at him holding the hand of the Halfling traitor who was meant to be dead. Not a wit.

He had never cared for what others thought of him or of what he did, and he wasn't going to start now. He just prayed that the little Halfling beside him had learnt not to care either.

Oh the looks she was going to receive when they arrived in Erebor, the whispers that would follow her wherever she went. He would do his best to silence them and to make the judgemental eyes look elsewhere. He refused to allow gossip and looks hurt their burglar.

He had, after all, always been fond of his fellow thief. Not of course to the same extent as his little brother or the young princes or Balin and Bifur had. And certainly nowhere near the same level of fondness that his King and a certain miner turned toymaker had towards her. But still, she had understood him in a way no one else had ever done so before and more to the point, she had wanted to understand him. She had wanted to be his friend, instead of seeing him as a means of gaining something that would usually be inaccessible.

She had been a good friend to Ori as well. She had coaxed the lad out of his shell, had taken an interest in his desire to be a scribe instead of scoffing at the idea like most others had and still did, had fussed over him like an elder sister or possibly even a mother but not to the point of overwhelming him or making him do what she thought he should do like Dori sometimes did. And even though Dori had sided with their king with his decision to banish her over the whole Arkenstone mess, Nori knew that his elder brother missed the little Halfling deeply. Missed talking to her over different teas and wines, comparing notes about both, and simply chatting away about general comforts of home.

It was for all these reasons that Nori had disappeared upon the moment of hearing the first faint whispers that their burglar was in danger.

He known for awhile that she was alive and that she had a child who bore a striking resemblance to a certain King Under the Mountain, though he would never reveal his sources, never would he admit that he had at one time followed his sources to her home and saw them and her interacting and acting like one big happy family that made his heart ache and fight back the desperate and overly stupid desire to punch his idiotic king right in the nose the next time he saw him.

He had kept an eye on her and her child from the moment he saw that she was indeed alive and well, but clearly, not a close enough of one and he was still cursing himself for allowing her to be thrown into this horrific mess.

He should have seen this coming, should have stopped it in the shadows and allowed for his Halfling friend to continue living her life, raising her child in peace and safety.

Now, now even with her safe by his side he wasn't sure what was going to happen. His spies had informed him of the fact that her child, her father and three cousins had all arrived in Erebor now, though the little lad had disappeared within minutes of entering the great mountain and was currently running around lost while everyone, including Thorin himself, searched for him. His spies had also made mention that Thorin seemed to be taking the news of Bilbo's being alive and the existence of her son fairly well, but that said, they didn't know Thorin as Nori did. They had never witness their king in his darkest hour, never seen him when the gold sickness, Durin's curse, took hold and made the usually reasonable, honourable, loyal king lose sight of all logic, honour and sense and threaten the one person who should never, ever have been threaten by him.

It still made Nori feel cold all over whenever he remembered Thorin's uncontrollable rage as they discovered their burglar's crime, the way he had snarled at her, shook her, threaten to throw her from the battlements and watch her smash and break upon the rocks below.

If he, Nori, hadn't been so desperate to keep Bofur from murdering their king, struggling alongside Bifur and Bombur to keep the miner from lashing out at their king, to rip Bilbo from his cruel grasp and beat him bloody with his bare hands, Nori would have happily smashed Thorin one right in the face with his mace, King Under the Mountain or not.

He had heard her during the Battle of Five Armies, heard her whistles of warning when an Orc or Warg came too close to them when their back was turned, her cries of delight and excitement over the arrival of the great eagles.

He had been one of the few who had searched for her once the battle was over and done. His injuries had been of a lesser nature than others and so he was able to go scouring the battlefield before most were even allowed to walk around their healing tent.

He had been the one who had made Bofur finally accept that they would never find her body, had been the one who had found the miner sobbing his grief one late hour in the middle of a moonless night and convinced him that leaving Erebor, abandoning his family would not be what she would have wanted.

He was the only member of the company to have ever been told of the full extent of Bofur's feelings for their Burglar. He knew others, Balin and Dori even Bifur, suspected their depth, but he was the only one Bofur had ever told.

The miner slash toymaker had loved their little bunny lass and there was no doubt in Nori's mind that in another life the two of them would have been happily married with little dwobbits fauntlings running around their feet while Bofur worked his Toyshop with Bifur and Bilbo worked in the garden that company would have made for her, growing the pretties flowers, the sweeties fruits and the ripest, juiciest vegetables.

In a perfect world, Nori was sure that this would have been their story, but the world was far from perfect and to his knowledge the little lass sleeping beside him had no idea of Bofur's feelings and that they extended further than friendship.

No, in this world, she had fallen for a king who was a hard as stone, who had shown only brief moments of love – for obviously there must have been moments, the boy child of hers proved that – towards her.

Thorin had loved their burglar, and still did though he hid it well behind his impenetrable mask. And Nori liked to belief that the love his king held for their burglar was as true and unwavering as Bofur's, hopefully more.

He hoped for all involved that Bilbo was Thorin's One and that this huge misunderstanding – if one could even call the mess Thorin had created years ago a misunderstanding – would be cleared up and Thorin would accept Bilbo's boy child as his own and everything would sort itself out and life could take the path that it was always meant to take eleven years ago.

But then knowing his stubborn king and their stubborn burglar this might be a tad too much to ask, but he wasn't beyond hoping and he hoped that destiny and fate would be kinder in these next few trailing months for his company. That isn't too much to ask now, is it?

Chapter Text

Bilbo woke slowly, her mind a fog of confusion. For some bizarre reason she had dreamt that Nori and some dwarven soldiers had found her and Bovin's company in the dead of night and were planning to return them to Erebor. What a foolish dream indeed.

She rubbed her eyes, rubbing away both sleep and unshed tears before peering cautiously out from under her eyelashes at the dull dawn lit world beyond.

A pair of familiar intelligent brown eyes looked back at her.

"NORI!" she shot up into a sitting position – not an easy task when one of her hands was still wrapped around the dwarf's beside her – and blinked rabidly at him. "You're – you're here? Why… How?"

"Easy Burglar." Nori chuckled placing a calming hand upon her shuddering shoulder. "We have plenty of time to go into details about the 'whys' and 'hows' of things, but first, how are you feeling?"

"Um," Bilbo placed a hand to her throbbing head, "like I've fallen off that cliff in Goblin Town all over again."

"Shock," Nori replied simply as he handed her a water bottle, "thought you were a tad too calm last night. Guess it finally caught up to you. Happens to the best of us." He added quickly when he noticed Bilbo glaring at him from over the water bottle.

Bilbo sighed.

"Oh for the days when I was able to keep my wits through whatever new horror were thrown at me." she grumbled in exasperation as she took a measured sip from the water bottle.

"The shock still caught up to you, when the adrenaline wore off. I fondly remember on to two particular occasions when you simply started screaming at us and calling us a bunch of ungrateful oafs." Nori teased and Bilbo felt her cheeks warm.

"I only said that after our barrel escape," she muttered in embarrassment, "when you were all whinging about bruises and asking why I hadn't come up with a better plan of escape."

"There was also waterworks too, I do believe to remember." Nori went on with a teasing smirk.

"I was tired!" Bilbo protested loudly in annoyance, smacking his arm though her lips were twisted into a small smile, "And not only that, I was just as, if not more battered than the rest of you. I had every right to cry and scream at the lot of you ungrateful sods!"

"And the time on Carrock?"

"That was all Oins and Gloins fault that time was! Wandering off," she grumbled trying to mimic Gloin's gruff rumbling voice, "I fell of a damn cliff! And that wasn't even my fault but that blasted goblin! And…" she trialled off with a huff as Nori started chuckling his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Now," he chuckled, "now there's the Burglar I know." She ducked her head blushing even more deeply. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath when she felt a gentle hand come to rest upon the top of her ratty curls.

"Missed you lass." Nori said with such honesty and sincerity that Bilbo's eyes started to water.

"And I you. And the others too… all of them." she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand before glancing over her shoulder to where her kidnappers were sitting together, surrendered by more than a dozen dwarven guards by the dying fire.

"What will happen to them?" she asked looking away from them when several glared furiously back at her. She couldn't see Bovin among them but she felt no desire to search him out.

"I would believe that their fates are in your hands burglar," Bilbo looked back at Nori sharply, wondering if the thief was lying to her or pulling her leg as some bizarre joke. However when she met his dark eyes, so very like his younger brother's in colour and shape, she saw nothing but seriousness and truth within them.

"My hands?"

"It is you who they have inflicted the gravest offences against and by dwarven law, this means that you have the power to decide their fate."

Bilbo swallowed and shook her head.

"Not now of course," Nori continued calmly either not noticing her distress or simply chose to ignore it, "when we reach Erebor."

Erebor… She placed a hand over her thudding heart wondering vaguely if it were possible for ones heart to explode from ones chest.

"Frodo's there." She whispered, eyes clenched.

"Frodo?"

"My son. He's – and my father and cousins are all in Erebor."

"Then they're safe." Nori replied simply.

"Are they?" she asked him frantically, "Are they Nori?" all of Bovin's cruel words about Erebor and in particular about the mountain's King came flooding back to her; helped along by her own horrid memories and dreams.

"Bilbo…"

"They're my family Nori! He's my son. What if… what if…"

"Bilbo," Nori caught her shoulders and gave her a tiny shake causing her to flinch and tremble. He released her immediately upon seeing her frighten eyes, shaking his head, "you been stolen by dwarves who would not think twice about harming you but in the end the ones who truly scare you are…" he shook his head again, disgusted by his company's past actions and how they still haunted this gentle, kind lass before him.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down, "Lass, no one, no one, is going to harm your family. No one. They're safe, trust me."

She looked back at him with tear filled eyes.

"How do you know?"

He reached out and gently cupped her chin with his hand, his thumb brushing the single tear that rolled down her far too thin and pale cheek.

"Do you really have so little faith in us? Do you really think so little of us now?"He asked her and she closed her eyes take a deep breath as she shook her head.

"No," she whispered, "never, but…" her eyes darted in the direction of Bovin's chained company.

"Never fear lassie, they will be dealt with. But first," he gently tussled her tangled, matted curls, "let's be getting you to Erebor and reunited with your family." Bilbo nodded silently and allowed for Nori to help her to her feet and walk her towards where his pony was tied, ignoring the stares, shutting out Nori's barked orders for them all to make ready to leave camp and to set their gaze back home, to Erebor.

She was silent as she swung up on to Nori's pony, wrapped in a warm cloak, chewing absently upon some more beef jerky her mind already miles away, in Erebor, with her child and her small hobbit family. She wasn't sure what she should expect from her hobbit family or the from the family of dwarves she still wasn't entirely sure didn't hate her.

She knew that it was silly, stewing over such thoughts when Nori was sitting behind her on his pony, speaking reassurance and describing how much things in Erebor had changed and grown, so much so that when they arrived she would hardly recognise Erebor as the same mountain that they had fought to reclaim so many years ago.

She tried to allow her heart to be reassured by his words that painted a world far brighter than what she really knew it was. The only brightness left in the world that remained true and untouched was the Shire and no pretty words were going to paint Erebor into that same brightness or innocence's. Far too much blood and grief coated that mountain and the thought of trying to see it any differently made her stomach turn.

Stop it; she hissed silently to herself as her body fell into the familiar rhythm of riding a pony over rough, uncharted ground. Stop this! Stop it this moment. Find your courage. Find it. What is the worst that could happen?

And it was because of all those worst case scenarios playing within her head that she could not find her courage and tears simply rolled silently down her cheeks as she watched the world around her evolve from a mountainous maze of misery to a landscape of open plains and a great forest in the distance and if you truly squinted you could make a lone stone rock standing proud to the east.

Bilbo squeezed her eyes shut and bent her head down low, tears now rolling freely down her cheeks.

TMPoT

Nori said not a word at the sound his little companion soft sobs and snuffling even though it wrung his heart and made him only want to throttle his king all the more. Along with the foul, miserable little cretins chained by them. They and Thorin were to blame for Bilbo's broken spirit and they were going to pay dearly for taking away the fire that had once burned so brightly that it lit even the darkest caves.

He and the others would make sure of that, they would light the fire within her heart once more and bring forth the courageous and brilliant Halfling who had saved all their lives more times than Nori was inclined to count.

They would make things right again. They had too; they owed her that much and much, much more.

He rested his chin upon her head and gave her a gentle little hug to remind her that she did have friends with her that she was now safe and he would rather die than allow her to fall into harm 's way again.

And if she wished to leave Erebor with her child and family in tow, than he would help her, escort them back to the Shire if she allowed it, even if his King did not. And if, if it was her wish to never see any of them ever again for however long that she lived, he would make it so. Anything to make her happy and no longer hate them, he would do it. He would do anything for their burglar.

Chapter Text

Frodo was practically giddy upon hearing the news that his mother had been found, alive and was now on her way to Erebor with none less than Nori, his uncle Ori's and Dori's middle brother, the only member of the company he had yet to meet.

"I knew it." Ori was exclaiming nearby, looking as if he was fighting very hard not to dance about, "I told you he hadn't gone back to his old ways, I told you." He added to his older brother with a defiant pout.

"Yes, yes, alright." Dori said with a sheepish grin. "You were right."

Other dwarves were happily chatting about his mother's imminent arrival, wondering if she would arrive before Durin's Day. Frodo had tried to ignore and fight down the questions that bubbled within him when the dwarves all glanced in his direction at the mention of the word 'Durin'.

Finding that he couldn't contain his energy anymore and needing an excuse to run, he quickly excused himself from the common room that he and several other dwarves, along with his hobbit uncles had been in upon hearing the news of his mother's rescue and ran to inform his grandfather of the news.

Running, even walking, was still posing to be something of a chore for his still mending feet but he was learning to deal with the odd sensation of pain shooting through his leg whenever he put his feet down upon a hard surface.

"Grandpapa!" Frodo exclaimed as he bounded into the living chambers that were the hobbits' guest rooms for the time being, "Grandpapa," he ran to his grandfather who was dozing by the fire.

"Grandpapa." He gave his grandfather a gentle shake, causing the old hobbit to grumble softly before settling into an even deeper slumber.

Frodo rolled his eyes in irritation before shaking his slumbering grandfather harder.

"Grandpapa! Wake up! C'mon, Grandpapa, I have good news about Mama. C'mon, you need to wake up so that I can tell you. Grandpapa!"

"Lad." Frodo almost jumped out of his skins as the quiet but commanding voice spoke to him from the doorway of the living chambers.

Feeling his heart racing in his chest, Frodo looked over his shoulder to see Thorin standing there, looking as impressive and as imposing as ever.

"Ah… Hello?" he squeaked shrinking as Thorin's brilliant blue eyes bore into him.

"Come," Thorin said or maybe commanded was the better word for it, "leave your grandfather be, he will be told upon his awakening that his daughter has been found." Frodo hesitated for a moment by his grandfather's side before scamping to Thorin's.

"I thought it was agreed that you wouldn't go running off." Thorin said as he ushered Frodo out of the Hobbit's guest rooms and into the corridor outside.

"Running down one corridor is hardly what one would call running off." Frodo grumbled as he stared up at the dwarf king with a pout, his arms crossed against his chest, if only because he was trying to hide how badly he was shaking in the presences of this intimating dwarf.

Thorin crossed his own arms and two of them locked eyes with each other for several second before Frodo finally caved and looked away.

"It was just one corridor." He grumbled, his bottom lip sticking out. "What was the worst that could happen? What could I possibly get up to in just one corridors time?"

Thorin simply raised an eyebrow at him causing him to throw his arms up in defeat even though inwardly he found it to be extremely unfair that the dwarf king could win an argument without even saying a single word.

"I was allowed to run all over the Shire and Mama never called it running off." he added in his defence even though it wasn't exactly, hundred percent true. Hadn't his mother chided him of running off only days before they were captured by Bovin and his dwarves?

"Yes, well, Erebor is quite a bit different from Shire as you may have noticed?"

"You mean, with it being a mountain and there being a huge lake and forest, tha' at way," his arm waved in one direction before completely changing to point in another, "And there also being at least two human settlements a hop, skip and jump away from here. You mean those differences? Well, if you ruled those things out, I might have thought I was back in the Shire?" he was being cheeky, oh very cheeky. He wasn't even this cheeky with his mother and yet here he was pushing his already pushed luck with the King Under the Mountain, whose whole face had become a mask of emptiness.

"I'm sorry." He squeaked, pressing his hands behind his back and lowering his head as his mama had taught him to do whenever he was delivering a sincere and whole-hearted apology.

"Are you always this cheeky?" Was all Thorin asked, causing Frodo to blink up at him.

"Um… no. I mean, well, in the Shire I'm considered very cheeky and I'm almost always being told I don't have enough respect for my elders. But Mama… Mama is cheeky and we are cheeky together, but… but even she would have chided me for that, so… I'm sorry."

He watched as the dwarf king rubbed his temple for a moment before nodding.

"Apology accepted," the king sighed, looked strained and put upon. "Did your mother truly allow you to go running all over the Shire?"

"Hmmm, mostly." Frodo nodded, his head tilted to one side as he looked up at the King curiously.

"She wasn't afraid you would get yourself lost?"

Frodo snorted.

"It's near impossible to get lost in the Shire. Or maybe that's because we're hobbits – well, I'm dwobbit but same difference – I also have a fairly good sense of direction, so Mama's rarely ever worried about me… Why?" Frodo watched as Thorin sighed heavily as he pressed a hand to his face.

"So you have a good sense of direction?"

"According to Mama, I do. But like I said, it's pretty hard to get lost in the Shire if you know where you're going."

"And do you always know where you're going?"

"Yes. I mean," Frodo glanced quickly up into the mirror image of his own eyes before looking away, "I did. Before…"

"Before you came here?"

"But I will. Just you watch, give me time and I'll know my way around this mountain as well as I know my way around the Shire, only…" he snuck a glance back at Thorin, a small cheeky grin playing on his lips as he added, "I might need to do some running off to know my way truly well."

His grin grew a little wider when, much to his delight, Thorin chuckled.

"Ah, is that how it is, is it?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, I don't think your mother would approve of my allowing you to run off on your own. This mountain I think you will find holds many dangers your mother's peaceful green land does not. If you promise to not go off on your own, I might see about allowing Kili to show you all his favourite places." Thorin offered and Frodo felt as if his face might split from grinning so much.

"Really?" he beamed, "so, so, he can show me Smaug's bedroom and-and the Secret Door and Tunnel and-and…"

"Your mother truly did not leave much out did she?" Thorin mused more to himself than to Frodo.

"Actually," Frodo said, "I learnt most of that from Bofur, Ori and Kili. Mama doesn't like talking about the last bit of the journey. We get to Laketown and then usually Kili or Ori or Bofur take over." Frodo shrugged, curious as to why Thorin looked so pained.

"But… But," Frodo started, wanting to free Thorin's face of pain, "she talked a lot about you. Did you really go up against the Pale Orc all by yourself with only an oak branch to protect you?"

"I did." Thorin replied with a bemused sort of look on his face.

"That's really brave. I wish I was that brave." Frodo sighed. "I tried defending Mama from Bovin and his man with some firewood, but it didn't work… obviously."

"There are different types of bravery little one." Thorin said quietly, his eyes looking off into the distance, "and the bravery your mother and yourself possess is far more powerful than the kind that I have within me."

Frodo snorted. He highly doubted that.

"Come," Thorin said, "your uncles will be worried about you."

"Oh right," Frodo gushed grinning widely, bouncing a little. Without thinking he caught Thorin's hand in his and started dragging back towards the common room that he knew his family, both hobbit and dwarves alike were still in and soon, very soon, his mama would be here as well.

He felt giddy all over again at thought of see his mother in short while. He wondered if she would agree to staying awhile in Erebor so that he could properly explore it and learn all of its secrets.

He would have to ask Thorin if they would be allowed to stay a little longer, not now of course because as soon as Frodo reached the common room where the rest of his family was, Thorin excused himself, saying that there were things that he needed to do. Frodo was dying to ask what things, but felt that this might be pushing his luck and he knew that he had probably pushed his luck to the maximum already with Thorin today, so with a bright grin he waved as Thorin left him for his kingly duties and entered the common room alone to immediately be swamped by uncles, hobbit and dwarf alike.

It didn't really matter if Thorin was a little distant with him still, not when he had all of his uncles fussing over him, and Lady Dis who was truly lovely once you got around how intimidating she could look when you first met her.

No he still had plenty of time to get close to Thorin and it would probably be easier once Mama got here too, so he simply had to be patient and wait. He had already waited basically ten years to know the truth about himself, honestly what was another week or so?

So with a smile he allowed himself to be lightly chided for wandering off without telling them properly as to where he was going and thought serenely about the family he was going to have once Mama arrived.

Chapter Text

Despite his promise to Thorin earlier about not running off without someone with him, Frodo's itchy feet had gotten the better of him, as they usually did.

He wasn't trying to be bad or disobedient, it was simply he felt as if something was calling to him, calling him right to his centre and he needed to know exactly what that call was or he would never fall asleep.

He wiggled free of the bed clothes, careful not to awake the four adult hobbits sleeping in the room with him – Thorn had given them all their own rooms, and yet for one reason or another, the hobbits had all chose to sleep in Frodo's designated room within their royal guest chambers.

Frodo pulled a warm coat on, rolling up the sleeves several times so as to be able to use his fingers before padding silently out of the room. His feet still felt like they were walking on mushroom with the bandages on but at least the soft wrapping wasn't affecting his ability to move quietly.

He snuck out into the corridor, pulling forth a ball of string that he had snagged from Lady Eir sewing basket from earlier that day when she, Lady Dis and Master Dori came to take the hobbits measurement for some much needed new clothing. His uncle and grandfather were currently wearing smallish dwarf clothing, but even so they were too large. Even Frodo's clothes were too large for him even though apparently they were made for a very young dwarfling.

Frodo had pouted about that for about five minutes before he saw the ball of blue yarn peeking out of Eir basket and an idea started to form within his young head.

He tied one end of the ball of yarn to the door handle before setting off, unrolling the ball as he went following the cord that was pulling in his chest, whispering for him to come.

He followed the call into the very depths of the mountain, to a section that he had never been to before and he was sure very few visited. It was colder where he was going and less lamps were lit. It also smelt… odd.

He wrinkled his nose, frowning at the queer smell invading his nostrils but still onwards he moved until he came to a large empty chamber. The call grew immediately silent. Even though it was pitch black, Frodo could tell that where ever the call had summon him was a vast, empty space.

"This it?" he squeak in ignition. "An empty chamber? What was the point?"

"That's exactly what I would like to know?" Frodo, given the circumstance was not ashamed of screaming or the fact that he tripped backwards in attempt to get away from the unexpected voice – that sounded horribly like a dwarf king who given very strict orders about not running off – almost sending himself toppling down some stairs into the blackness below. He was stopped however by a strong arm catching him around his waist and hoist him to safety.

"What is it with you and your mother and not doing what you're both told?" Thorin growled furiously once he had set Frodo safely upon level ground once more.

"Family trait?" Frodo offered before shrinking a little under Thorin's heavy gaze.

"I thought I said…"

"I know!" Frodo said, throwing up his arms to forestall Thorin's temper and his deserved scolding, "but there was this call and I couldn't sleep and it refused to be quiet unless I followed it. I swear once I got here, I was thinking of turning back around immediately, honest."

In the dim light from a lamp nearby Frodo watched Thorin press his fingers to his temple, muttering darkly away in Khuzdul.

"Mama really wouldn't appreciate you questioning her mothering abilities." Frodo offered wisely causing Thorin to look down at him sharply.

"You understand Khuzdul?"

"Bits and pieces." Frodo shrugged. "Ori's taught me a little. Bofur and Kili tried at first but apparently they were teaching me words that are not meant to be used amongst civilised company according to Ori, so Mama banned them from teaching me anymore. I've learnt quite a bit off Bifur too but it's harder learning from him than it is Ori."

"I suppose she was more inclined for you to learn elvish, hmm?" Thorn asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yup." Frodo watched as Thorin groaned, as the dwarf king pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead.

"Your mother and her love of elves." Thorin grumbled to no one in particular.

"I like elves." Frodo pouted, "I met some too. Not Lord Elrond of course, but I met his sons once. They were with a patrol of Dune," Frodo closed his eyes for a moment focusing on the word he was trying to say, "Dunedain rangers. They didn't stay long though; they only came close to Tuckborough because Gandalf was there."

"Oh," Thorin questioned with an odd note to his tone, "and what did they want with him."

"Don't know." Frodo shrugged, "Its Gandalf. He's wanted by everyone for one reason or another. He's a very important busy person according to Mama, and yet," and he smiled faintly at this, "he always finds time to come and visit mama and me."

"You are very fond of him." Thorin guessed.

"I've known him since I was born… or rather, he's known me. He was there at my birth. He kept mama safe when she was travelling back with me, after… well…" he allowed himself to trail off as he looked cautiously up at the Dwarf King beside him who was watching him just as cautiously.

Oh, well this was awkward. He had so many thoughts that he wanted to speak, so many questions on the tip of his tongue that he didn't know where to start or if he did start if any would make any sense as so many words tumbled from his lips.

"Are you, um… maybe, possibly… I mean, is it possible that you are, um…" Frodo looked helpless up at the King who was rubbing his temple again as he moved to sit on the top of the stairs, his back leaning against the wall. Frodo moved quickly to stand by him, unsure what he should say or do.

"How long have you known?" Thorin asked, looking straight into his eyes.

"Well, um, I didn't really know exactly. More like wondered about the possibility. And then when I got here and um saw you, the wondered turned to suspicion and now I'm just waiting for confirmation." Frodo gave a small shrug of his shoulders while Thorn shook his head, bemused.

"You are so like your mother." Thorin muttered with a tiny smile. Frodo shifted awkwardly from one bandaged foot to the other.

"Is that good? Or bad?"

"Good." Thorin said with a sigh, "definitely good. I must say I am pleased you've taken after her more than say…"

"You?" Frodo offered cautiously. Thorin looked him straight in the eye again and nodded.

"Exactly."

"Why?" Frodo asked sitting down on the step beside Thorin.

"Simply because it would be better for all if you were to take more after your mother than you do after me." Thorin replied and Frodo huffed, sensing that he would not be getting a straight answer out of Thorin about this topic.

"Well, Mama says I'm more like Kili than anyone else." Frodo retorted. Thorin gave a small snort of amusement.

"Yes, you are very much like him also, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. Hopefully you have inherited his energy, your mother's brains and neither of their taste for trouble. Though it is clear to me now that you certainly have."

"And from you?"

"You look like me," Thorin replied simply, "that I believe is enough." He made to get up and most likely leave – again – causing Frodo to sigh heavily.

"Don't you like me?" the words slipped out before he could stop them and he immediately wished that they hadn't when he saw the look that they had caused to cross Thorin's face.

"Sorry." He muttered.

"You think that I do not like you?" Thorin asked softly, staring down at him intently causing Frodo to give a helpless little shrug.

"Well obviously it's something or else I would have known you all my life instead of just meeting you a few weeks out from my tenth birthday." Frodo retorted impatiently, arms crossing against his chest. "Mama said that the reason that you weren't with us for all of my life was because you are busy, that your duties and responsibilities have kept you away from us. And," he pulled a face, "and well, yes, I mean, you are the King Under the Mountain, so of course you have very important and very big responsibilities and duties that you must see to. But-but were you really so busy that we didn't matter? At all?"

Thorin was rubbing his face again.

"You think that you don't matter? You and your mother both?"

"Um… maybe?"

"Frodo," Thorin said moving down to his eye level, "I didn't even know of your existence until a matter of days ago. In fact, it was only until a matter of days ago, I was still under the belief that your mother was long dead, having died trying safe my prideful, arrogant, gold-blind hide during the Battle of Five Armies."

Frodo blinked up at Thorin his mouth hanging limply open.

Thorin gave a small humourless laugh.

"Your mother and four uncles left that part of the story out, correct?" Frodo nodded his vigorously, his brain desperately trying to process what Thorin was telling him. Mama had been in a battle? And not any battle, but the Battle of Five Armies! The great battle that he had heard being talked about so often during his time travelling to Erebor.

"Why did you think Mama was dead? Why didn't you try to find her after the battle was over?"

Frodo watched Thorin wince as he once more settled himself down upon the step.

"Because we didn't find her," Thorin replied simply, "your mother apparently fell into a ditch during the battle and due to her magic ring," he stopped and glanced at Frodo his eyes holding a question that Frodo knew the answer to, giving a quick nod for Thorin to continue, "she went by unseen, despite all the efforts of dwarves, men and – and elves put into finding her. She returned to the Shire with only Gandalf, Beorn and Lord Elrond I believe knowing she was, indeed, alive. And," the dwarf king paused for a moment before continuing, "pregnant with you."

"Oh…" Frodo said turning his gaze upon the looming darkness. "Well that sort of put a dampener of me being angry at you, huh?" he shrugged.

"Oh?" Thorin asked.

"Well, I can't exactly be angry at you over something you had no control over, now can I?" Frodo explained patiently, "That wouldn't be fair."

Thorin chuckled darkly beside him.

"You are a far kinder and wiser soul than I ever have a hope to be." Thorin said, reaching out maybe a little cautiously and ruffled Frodo's curls.

Frodo smiled shyly at him, pleased by his words.

"Your mother has brought you up well."

"What's going to happen?" Frodo asked, "When Mama gets here, I mean?"

"That is entirely up to her." Thorin replied almost a little too casually causing Frodo to raise his eyebrow.

"Are you really going to let us go? Because Uncle Lotho certainly doesn't think so." Frodo persisted.

"Frodo," Thorin sighed, "whether you stay here in Erebor, under our protection, or return to the Shire with an escort, is entirely up to whatever your mother chooses."

"But there's someone out there who wants to hurt Mama. What if she wants to leave, then that person might catch her and this time you won't be there to save her."

"No one is going to harm your mother," Thorin said his tone firm and commanding. "Not ever again. We… I will try my best to convince her to stay here until a time comes that she can leave here with – with you and your uncles and grandfather without any danger hanging over her head."

"And you would just let us go?"

"With a heavy heart, but yes." Frodo chewed over this.

"Why? Mama isn't really happy in Hobbiton anymore. I know for fact that she was thinking of moving us to Buckland or possibly Tuckborough. What's so different about us moving here?" Frodo questioned.

"Ruling out the small fact that I am here," Thorin muttered under his breath, "I can think of a couple of hundred reasons as to why your mother would be against moving to live here. No, I would be more inclined to think that she would move to live with the elves in Rivendell."

"What about me?" Frodo asked

"Your mother has drawn up a contract with Ori," Thorin explained carefully, "I admit I haven't read the whole thing through what with my being busy searching for a certain little dwobbit all around my mountain and trying to rescue his mother," Frodo blushed dark crimson, "but I know enough of it to know that she wishes for your to come here when you are of age, the hobbit's coming of age of thirty-three, to meet us – me… before deciding your fate. Remaining here with us or going out into the world to search out your own path."

"I know… I know that." Frodo muttered sighing. "Mama was never going to come with me, to here, to meet… you, was she?"

"No, I do not think she planned to."

"Why?"

Thorin sighed.

"It is complicated."

Frodo pulled a face.

"'It's complicated'," Frodo mimicked, "that's just adults way of saying you're too small and too silly to understand." He finished grouchily.

"I do not think that you are 'too silly' to understand," Thorin replied surprisingly gently, "but I do think that you are too young to. And beside this is something between your mother and I and we must sort it out before it can be properly explained to you."

"Will you?" Frodo asked hopefully, "Sort it out I mean?"

"I hope so. But it is entirely up to your mother. Whatever she wishes, I will accept and help her achieve the happiness and peace that both she and you deserve. Now, I think that the hour is quite late and you need to be back in bed or else you will never get up in the morning and I believe that would greatly disappoint Kili as he has a foot-long list of places he wants to show you tomorrow."

"Like Smaug's bedroom?" Frodo asked excitedly as he started rolling the blue cord back around the ball.

Thorin looked down at him in amusement. "I don't think you will find it to be very impressive."

"Oh… why?"

"Because we were just there and you were quite disappointed by it."

"We were?" Frodo squeaked looking back over his shoulder in the direction the vast and empty chamber they had just left.

"Yes."

"But… But… there is nothing impressive about it. Nothing at all!"

"What were you thinking to see? Vast mountains of gold and silver?" Thorin teased.

"Maybe." Frodo said not wanting to admit that he hadn't actually had any idea what of he had been expecting to see upon being shown Smaug's bedroom, only that it would be far more impressive than what little he had seen. "I don't know, just something amazing. The way Mama described it was simply… I don't know, I just imagined that it would be extraordinary."

"It was once," Thorin said as they walked through the maze of corridors, "when I first entered it, I could barely believe my eyes upon everything I saw within that chamber." Thorin rubbed his chest, remembering the sick, greedy feeling that had started to fest within his heart the moment he had first stepped into the Smaug's gold and silver bedroom. That had been the beginning of the end, really.

He shook his head and glanced back down at the happily bubbling child by his side.

"I drew a picture of Smaug and his bedroom once, when I was little," Frodo babbled happily, "Mama said it looked just like him and how she first saw him. She framed it and put it up in her study."

"Do you like drawing?" Thorin asked, desperate to know as much about this child who bore so much resemblance to him in looks but was nothing at all like him in personality and temper.

"Uh huh." Frodo beamed up at him widely, "I haven't drawn in awhile though." Frodo stuck out his bottom lip; suddenly missing the free feeling of a pencil between his fingers, the delight of watching art appeared from the pencils tip.

Thorin nodded his head thoughtfully, an idea blooming within his mind.

By the time they arrived back at the royal guest rooms, Frodo was yawning widely and rubbing his tired eyes.

He blinked sleepily up at Thorin, giving him a tired smile.

"How did you know I was gone?" he asked around a yawn as Thorin ushered him into the living chamber.

Thorin gave a small, almost shy cough as he closed the door behind them.

"I was checking on you," the king admitted, sounding almost… sheepish. "making sure that you were alright, only by the time I came to check on you tonight, you were already taking yourself on your midnight stroll."

"Oh." Frodo blushed, "sorry."

"At least you made it easy enough for one to follow and find you this time," Thorin shrugged, nodding at the ball of yarn in his hands.

"I didn't want to get lost."

"I thought you said you never got lost." Thorin offered with a tiny hint of smile while Frodo huffed.

"I don't get lost in the Shire. Here is entirely different! But just you wait and see, I'll know my way around this mountain better than I know my way around my own hand in no time flat! You see."

"Yes, yes, I'll see." Thorin snorted before sighing.

"I-I do not know much about what I'm currently doing, so you must be patient with me and forgive my mistakes and my ignorance, as this is all very new to me."

"New to me too." Frodo offered with a reassuring grin that caused Thorin to chuckle and ruffle his curls.

"Bed, little one, we will see each other again tomorrow." Thorin said as he lifted Frodo up and carried him quietly into the bedchambers, depositing him down upon his bed and tucking him under his bedclothes.

"Mama here soon" Frodo whispered sleepily a tired smile gracing his lips.

"Yes. Very soon." Thorin agreed softly, brushing stray curls away from Frodo's forehead and eyes.

"Then we'll be a family." Frodo yawned and curled up onto his side, allowing for sleep to take him, completely oblivious to the angst his final words had caused within the dwarf still standing by his bedside.

Thorin took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart before reaching out and carefully tucking the bedclothes more securely around the precious sleeping child.

"I hope so, mim ze." He muttered, as he ran a worn hand gently against Frodo's smooth cheek, "I hope so."

It was harder than Thorin would ever like to admit to leave Frodo's side, but he managed to drag himself away finally and return to his own wing for his own much needed rest. There was still much to be done before Billanna arrival, much to prepare and he needed to have his wits about him or else things could become even more complicated than they currently already were.

He settled down in his favourite armchair by the glowing embers in his fireplace, staring into its depths as his hands ran across the mithril vest laying glimmering in his lap.

Soon, very soon she would be with them again and the whole at the center of his stone heart would start to mend.

Chapter Text

The Lonely Mountain grew rapidly larger with each passing day. To the point where one morning Bilbo was woken by Nori due to the approach of dwarf guardsman from Erebor, with the intent of escorting them rest of the way to the mountain.

She had half expected to see Dwalin at the head of the group but instead it was lead by a dwarf she did not know, nor did she care to for he looked at her as if she was something that needed to be squished as quickly as possible. He and his guards however did not stay long, sent ahead by Nori to tell Erebor of them of their imminent arrival.

"Can't believe of all the dwarf guards Dwalin could have sent, he sent him!" Nori muttered in disgust.

"Maybe he was all that Dwalin had to spare?" Bilbo mumbled from where she sat near the fire watching the retreating figures of Erebor's guardsman as they marched in perfect time back towards the lone mountain. "Isn't Durin's Day approaching? I remember Balin telling me once that besides from Durin's Day being the first day of your new year, but it is also a time of great festivity and the bringing together of all the neighbouring dwarven clans."

Nori shot her an amused look as he plopped himself back down beside her, stealing her uneaten sausages from her plate as he did so. This was the first time he had done so, stolen food from her plate as this was the first time since he had found her that Bilbo had eaten a reasonable chunk of what food she was given, instead of simply picking at it before handing over her barely touched meal to him to eat. This morning she had eaten all but this one lone sausage and was showing no inclination of having any desire to eat, so he felt no remorse in stealing it, even if she did roll her eyes at him as he tried to be subtle about eating it.

"I forgot how much you were interested in our culture." He commented between bites of the sausage.

She shrugged, looking away from him and turning her attention once more upon the looming lone mountain that was their final destination. She could see the rebuilt Dale from this distance as well as Laketown. Both cities of men looked as if they had recovered from their mutual desolation from Smaug quite well and seemed, from this distant at least, to be thriving.

"You're right." He said after a moment's pause, swallowing the last of her sausage, "that probably is the reason why Dwalin didn't send someone else with, ah, less black and white views of the world. Or himself even. There have been threats against Thorin and the princes. No more than usual," he added when Bilbo shot him a barely concealed look of panic, "but Thorin's counsellors always get their axes twisted into knots over such matters when Durin's Day is approaching."

"He is their king. They should be worried about him all the time."

Nori snorted.

"They do, but at any other time of the year, Thorin would rip their heads off."

"Why is this time of year different?" Bilbo asked as she drew unintelligible marks in the dirt beside her.

"Because it is the end of one year and the beginning of another. He also has other things of his mind during this time of year, certain events that we of the old company all remember." He tried to get her to meet his eyes but she would not lift her gaze from insensible doodling.

"It'll be Frodo's birthday." Bilbo muttered unexpectedly, glancing up at him briefly before looking away again, "Around Durin's Day. He'll be ten." Her lips pinched into a tight smile which quickly grew to a grimace as she began chewing upon her lower lip as she once more glanced towards the looming mountain.

"And you're birthday has passed, has it not Burglar?" Nori asked and she shot him a withering look before returning to her nonsense scribbling.

"Forty-nine, right?"

"Fifty." She muttered darkly under her breath

"Still just a babe." He teased causing her to glare up at him.

"Not by hobbit reckoning."

"You're far from anything that would be within the consideration of hobbit reckoning. You're deep within the land where things are reckoned by dwarves, men and elves."

"Yes and only two of those races would still consider me a babe. By men I would be considered to be entering middle-age."

"And yet you don't look a day older than the day I met you." Nori replied and she turned her brown eyes away from his, "Is that normal for hobbits? I understand that upon reaching adulthood the years pass your kind far slower than they do for man. And the years are far kinder to hobbits than they are to men. It is not until you reach the final years of your life that your kind age rapidly…"

"Or when you fall ill." Bilbo sighed, "When we fall ill, our years catch up to us far more quickly."

"Like your father?"

"Like my father." She agreed and they fell into a comfortable silence.

"We'll throw you both a party," he said as he chewed upon the end of his pipe, "You know that it will happen, whether you like it or not." He smirked as he watched the Halfling lass covered her face with her hands as she moaned.

"I thought all hobbits enjoyed parties." He teased. Bilbo lowed her hands and glowered at him.

"We do! But I've eaten enough dinners with you lot to fear any party you would host. I remember the food fights with just thirteen of you! I can't even bear to think a party of over hundred and the mess that would come with it! The cleanup would take weeks! You do know that Lord Elrond and his kin have still not quite forgiven you all for the mess and damage of property you caused during our stay. Not to mention the disappearance of a good deal of their silverware." She focused a hard look upon him.

Nori chuckled softly under her reproachful gaze.

"Ye of little faith."

"I have a lot of faith," she replied primly, "just not in dwarves and their table manners."

"Still," he chuckled, "a party will be thrown for both of you."

"Or a funeral…"

"Lass…"

"He said that my return would be punishable by death." She hissed at him. "You saw how those guards looked at me. How your guards even!" she waved a hand in the direction of the rest of their party and Nori shot all the eavesdroppers a warning look, motioning with one hand the cutting of one's ear off. "Thorin may not have any…"

"Don't lass…" Nori interrupted her, "Thorin has changed, have I not told you that enough? Thorin is a far different dwarf, a far different king to the one you last saw on those walls the days before the Battle of the Five Armies. And as for the looks, the whispers, they will pass with time. Just give them time. No one is going to put you to death. We won't allow it."

"You would not go up against your King's wishes." She muttered darkly.

"You think?" she gave him a look.

"Lass, we would lay our lives down for you in a heartbeat, just like we would do for him."

"He is your king."

"And you are our burglar. Simple as that. Thorin won't lay a hand upon you lass, no one will. Trust me."

She gave him a small smile.

"I do."

He tousled her curls fondly before returning to smoking his pipe and her to her drawings.

"Nori…"

"Hmmm?"

"I would… I would rather see Frodo before I saw the others. Just to see for myself that he is alright." He looked into her deep brown eyes, the motherly love and worrying making the colour of them appear even deeper.

"So, you would like a quiet entry into Erebor, huh?" He said his mind clicking on to what she wasn't saying; an easy thing really when he saw her fingers playing with her vest pocket as he had seen her do countless times during their quest for Erebor after their impromptu trip threw Goblin Town.

He sighed heavily.

"None of them are going to like you entering that way, you know?"

"I-I don't really care." She whispered as she moved closer to him, "Please Nori, just let me slip in and see my baby before I see anyone else. Then once I have, you can march me out to see whoever is first calling for my head."

"Bilbo." He started in a thoroughly unimpressed tone that the lass waved off.

"Please Nori. Please? Let me see my baby."

"And then what lass? You suddenly reappear when you feel good and ready?"

"Aye, something like that." She said with a mischief grin.

"And a scare a good many of us too, I wager." He replied with a roll of his eyes as her smirk only grew.

"Why, of course." They both grinned at each other before he frowned.

"You're not planning on doing a runner, are ya?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you." he gave her shoulder a gentle poke. She met his eyes and he sighed.

"Fine." He growled, "I suppose you have an idea of how you will slip away unseen without any questions being raised."

Her smirk grew somehow even wider as her eyes became calculating.

"Maybe one or two." She beckoned for him to come closer and in a hushed voice she told him her idea.

Chapter Text

Frodo could barely contain his glee as he played tag with Bombur's boys. It had been so long since he had played with someone of a similar age to him and as much as he missed Sam and Merry and all his Took and Brandybuck cousins, there was just something about playing with dwarrow children. They were much more rough and tumble than hobbit fauntlings were. Happy to explore and play fight in ways hobbits children were simply not able to and were never interested to try.

Yes, he had several bruises already from his rough housing with Bofar and Bofdur but they had all been received in good fun and he delivered a few blows himself that were causing some swelling and bruising to the two dwarf lads faces.

"Honestly, leave you lot alone for ten minutes and ya look as if you've fallen off a cliff!" Eir, Bombur's pregnant wife was growling in exasperation at them as they ran circles around her legs, laughing hysterically as they did so.

Frodo giggled along with the two dwarf boys before they ran out of Bombur's home and shot off down one corridor and then another. Even though Frodo's feet were still bandaged, he was now given free rein to run around, just as long as he stayed within particular areas of the mountain.

"Tag." Bofdur cried as he shoved his older brother. Bofar gave a small cry before lunging at his brother who squealed and jumped away.

"Run Frodo!" Bofdur yelled and Frodo gleefully shot ahead laughing as he heard Bofar swearing as he ran after the two of them.

Frodo laughed loudly as he jumped down some stairs, Bofdur following close behind him.

"Who are you then?" Frodo staggered to stop causing Bofdur to smash straight into his back and almost sent him toppling downwards to the stone floor of the corridor.

Rubbing the sore spot on his spine, Frodo blinked cautiously up at the nasty tone speaker, ignoring Bofdur's worry gasp from behind him.

"I asked you," a young dwarf with only the shadows of a beard gracing his chin poked Frodo's chest, "who you are?"

"Frodo Baggins." Frodo replied feeling his hackles stick up at being poked so roughly in his chest, "at your service." The other young dwarflings standing behind the rude one before him, snorted to one another, pointing to his feet and whispering to each other.

Bofdur took hold of Frodo's arm and gave it a small tug, clearly trying to convince Frodo, without using words that it was high time for them to leave, hopefully in the direction of home and Bofdur's mother's arms.

"What do you want Wren son of Tren." Frodo looked over his shoulder at where Bofar was moving cautiously down the stairs towards them.

"None of your business peasant." Wren sneered and Frodo felt his temper rise.

"We're all equals here Wren. The King says that no one is below anyone else within Erebor's great walls." Bofar replied but his eyes flashed dangerously and he moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Frodo with Bofdur whimpering softly behind them.

Wren and his followers snorted and took a menacing step towards them.

"Your father and uncles may have been able to trick the king into thinking that they are greater dwarves than they are, but the rest of us see you all for what you truly are; minors, toymakers, the lowest of the low. You will never be our equal Bofar son of Bombur and you never will…"

"And yet," Frodo snapped, "it was his father and his uncles that came when Thorin called; they who possessed the willing hearts to follow him through the deepest mountains, the darkest forests and into the very heart of the Dragon's den. I don't seem to remember your father's name ever being mention? Was he always a loyal follower of Thorin or did he only become a friend and ally when Erebor was reclaimed and the gold and jewels started flowing once more?"

"And what," Wren snarled, his wide face turning an interesting pink shade as he gave Frodo's shoulder a shove, "would you know about that."

"More than you ever will, you ignorant frog!" Frodo shot back and the next thing he knew he was flat on his back, his nose bleeding profusely. He heard above him Bofar and Bofdur roaring savagely and suddenly there was an all-out fight going on above his head.

Fighting back a sob, Frodo dragged himself to his feet and lunged at Wren who had stuck Bofdur into a headlock and started beating and kicking him furiously. He was smacked in the back of the head for his troubles but at least Bofdur was free and was sprinting down the corridor, obviously determined to grab the help of an adult.

Frodo was about to yell for him to stop, to not get anyone when he was dragged to the bottom of a shrieking, yelling, kicking, beating pile of wrestling youngster".

"What by Mahal's hammer is going on here?" Frodo fist dug further into Wren's face as he head shot up around the wrestling bodies around him to stare sheepishly at Dwalin who was striding towards them purposefully.

Frodo bit back at yelp as he was wrenched free of the pile, Bofar following shortly behind him

"He started it Master Dwalin." Wren spat, pointing a shaking hand at Frodo who glared back at him venomously.

"Did he now?" Dwalin asked, keeping a firm grip on the collar of Frodo's shirt.

"Yes," Wren and several of his followers nodded their heads vigorously, "we were simply minding our own business when these three jumped out and started attacking us."

"Aye, really?" Dwalin rumbled, not sounding like he believed Wren for a single second.

"They did," the dark haired dwarrow lad insisted, "They started the fight and as soon as my father hears…"

"Oh yea?" Frodo asked thickly, his nose clogged with blood and snot, "And are ya gonna 'ell him tat I finished it 'oo." He stuck his tongue out and watched as Wren's face turned furiously red beneath the bruises that Frodo had inflicted upon his face.

"Shut it, mongrel or did your whore of a mother not teach you better manners when it comes to speaking to your betters?" Wren snarled back at him and Frodo saw red.

"Oi, now."

Whack!

TMPoT

Thorin was seated with several of his council members inside his council chambers, thoroughly bored by the proceedings and struggling to stay awake.

He glanced to his side where Fili and Balin were both diligently taking notes of the current discussion that Thorin had tuned out of long ago. Not that he was the only one to have done so, it should be mentioned. From his vintage point, he could clearly see Kili, who was seated between Fili and Balin, drawing stick figures, spiders – and was that meant to be a dragon? – all over the parchment in front of him.

"Sire?" Thorin's head snapped in the direction of one of his slimmest council members, Lord Tren of the Iron Hills. If the dwarf wasn't a dignitary and advisor of Dain's Court, Thorin would have thrown him out of his mountain the moment the slimy bastard step inside the entrance hall. His family along with him. He had already heard that his boy was causing issues for Bombur's lads and…

"Sire?"

"Ah, yes, um…" he was spared from humiliating himself by having to admit that he hadn't been paying attention for the last ten or so minutes by a loud knock on the council doors.

Thorin nodded at Kili, who looked overwhelmingly delighted at having something to do to relieve his boredom even if it was only for a few moments and it was only by answering a door.

"But we are in session." Lord Tren protested furiously, a protest Thorin ignored and Kili opened the door only for him to give a strangled sort of yelp as a dark haired dwafling tried to shove his way past him.

"OI!"

"ADAD!" the dwarfling cried as he continued trying to shove his way past Kili, his face black and blue. Lord Tren was on his feet in a moment, completely forgetting his annoyance over the interruption of their council session, his face now a picture of rage as he took in his lad's state.

"Wren, who did this to you?!"

"He-he did." The dwarfling cried, shoved a fist in the direction he had come, his chest heaving. "He attacked me without any cause to and…"

"You mag-got!" Thorin closed his eyes, mentally groaning at the unmistakable voice crying out in outrage from somewhere in the corridor outside.

"Frodo!" Kili yelped as he stared out the open doorway, his eye wide as he took in the boy child Thorin could not yet see from where he was sitting. He did sit a little straight at the mention of his child's name, not only because of the way Kili had said but also because of the small fact that his council didn't exactly know the full extent of his relationship with his burglar's child.

"You mag-got! You 'oul, loathsome 'ittle mag-got." Frodo came barrelling into the room in clear pursuit of Lord Tren's son, only stopping because Kili had the wits about him to grab him by the collar of his shirt.

Thorin fumed over the sight the child present him. As bruised and rough up as Tren's lad looked, his own lad looked a right sight worse with blood pouring out of an obviously broken nose, staining his clothes almost black, blue and purple bruise decorating one side of his face, a split lip and curls wild. The only upside that Thorin could possibly think of about the current situation was that Frodo was showing he still had some fire in him while Tren's brat looked ready to keel over.

"Don't go insulting some-un and then run for it!" Frodo was bellowing threw a blood clogged nose over Kili's restraining arms, "What are you? A cow-ward?"

"Lad!" Thorin pressed a hand to his forehead as Tren snarled furiously at Frodo, "How dare you call my lad a coward when you attacked him when he's back was turned."

"Didn't," Frodo responded but there was far less fire in his voice as the lad took in his surrounding and took in the fact that he had probably just landed himself into even deeper trouble than he was probably already in.

"Did too," Tren's lad said around a smug grin that caused Frodo to twitch furiously in Kili's arms.

"Did… NOT! You 'tacked us first," Frodo said, taking deep breaths as he spoke, his eyes narrowed and furious, "first with insults than with fists. You started t'is fight, I just finished it." Frodo's lips curled into a smug grin while Lord Tren's lad spluttered indignation.

"True that." Dwalin said as he came to lean upon the doorframe behind Kili.

"Getting slow old man." Kili greeted him teasingly.

"Oh yeah?" Kili let out a loud yelp as Dwalin, quick as lightening smack him the upside of his skull, "Slow, huh?"

"Ouch," Kili whined rubbing the spot oh his head that Dwalin had smacked.

"Sorry," Dwalin apologies, mostly to Thorin, "little buggers are quick." He shot Lord Tren's lad a hard look.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lord Tren snarled, "My lad was attacked by that…" Lord Tren's head cocked his head to one side and Thorin could of sworn he heard the coin dropping inside of his head.

"Your letting the traitor's brat run freely around Erebor?" Tren spoke in outrage, his eyes never leaving Frodo's face which had twisted into a look of fury, so unnatural and disturbing upon his young and usually so joyful face.

"Don't call my…"

"Frodo," Thorin said and shot the lad a warning look. He was pleased when he saw the lad closing his mouth and falling respectively silent.

"I do believe that is none of your concern, Lord Tren, as your business here is for trade between the Iron Hills and Erebor, not in my care of old friends and their children."

"It is my business when such children are attacking my son and heir." Lord Tren snapped back furiously and Thorin sighed.

"Maybe we could continue this conversation in my private study?" Thorin offered, quickly dismissing the rest of his council with a sharp nod of his head.

"Kili take Frodo up to his rooms. Dwalin if you could be so kind as to return Lord Tren's son to his mother, that would be appreciated greatly." He added ignoring the annoyed and confused looks being sent his way.

Dwalin shot him a thoroughly unimpressed look before snatching hold of Lord Wren's son by the scruff of his neck and hauled him out of the chambers followed shortly by Kili and Frodo.

"Sire." Lord Tren muttered, his lips pursed in fury. Thorin fought the desire to rub his face. He was sure he was going to need a large drink after this.

TMPoT

"So?" Thorin hid a jump as he looked up from one of his mountains of paper work on his great wooden desk, his eyebrows raised as Dwalin walked into his study that Lord Tren had just vacated moments before.

"So?" Thorin retorted, feeling very tired all of sudden and not at all in the mood for Dwalin's games.

"What arrangements have you made with the slimy bastard?"

"None." Thorin replied, turning back to his papers, "but the boy will have to make a formal apology to Lord Tren and his son."

"You must be joking!" Dwalin gapped at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open a little.

"Do I look like I'm joking Dwalin?" Thorin growled, looking longingly towards his liquor cabinet.

"Thorin, I know this is not how you want the lad to act, certainly not around the brats of stuck-up lords that we annoyingly need to do trade threw, but honestly Thorin, it wasn't the laddie's fault."

"His fault or not," Thorin sighed, "Lord Tren has demanded…"

"I don't bloody care what Lord Tren has demanded." Dwalin growled pressing his closed fists upon Thorin's desk and leant towards his King, "If he has demanded anything other than he's own son to apologies to Frodo and Bombur's lads than, I don't give a damn and he can stick his damn up his arse! The brat and all his little cretins deserved what Frodo and Bombur's lad dished out to them."

"Dwalin…"

"The boy started this Thorin and as Frodo said, he simply finished it."

"With his fists?"

"Like we never finished our disputes like that. Almost all of them, I do believe." Dwalin grinned while Thorin shook his head.

"Even so…"

"Thorin, the boy was asking for it. Yes, the little lad should have tried to sort it out without resorting to his fists… and feet, but you weren't there, you didn't hear what the little brat was saying."

"Such as…" Thorin watched as Dwalin hesitated, which of course meant that it was something bad. And since there were very few things that actually seemed to rile Frodo, Thorin could take a fairly accurate (he was quite sure about this too) stab at what might have upset his son so much so that he forgot all his usual cheer and go completely berserk upon another child. Another child who probably deserved every bit of the thrashing he received from Frodo but that was completely beside the point.

Thorin shook his head, sighing heavily.

"Never mind, I do believe I don't want to know." Thorin said as he stood up from his desk and moved past Dwalin to his study door.

"Where you off to?" Dwalin questioned, falling in step with him as they left his study.

"To see my wild and ill-raised son." Thorin replied threw gritted teeth. Dwalin gave him a wild look and Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose, "Lord Tren's words, not mine."

"Ah, so… he knows then?"

"Well, it's not hard to make the connection," Thorin sighed bitterly, "and with him knowing…"

"Everyone within the mountain will know." Dwalin finished and Thorin let a long hard breath out threw his nose.

"They were going to find out sooner or later, Thorin."

"Yes," Thorin retorted furiously, "but on my terms, not threw some slimy bastard only out to make a bit more coin for himself."

"Let us hope he'll be gone before our burglar arrives." Thorin simply shook his head, knowing that that was too much to hope for what with the coming of Durin's day and the new knowledge the Lord possessed about Thorin.

"Is-is he hurt badly?" Thorin said coming to a halt at the end of the corridor leading to the royal guest chambers that the hobbit were currently staying in. "the lad is he… I didn't get a good look at him in the council room."

"He's more bruised than anything else, though I believe his nose is broken. But," And Dwalin was beginning to smirk, "you think he looks bad, you should have seen Lord Tren's brat's little friends. According to young Bofar, Frodo was the one who did the real number on them. You have a true fighter on your hands Thorin. I look forward to giving 'im some proper training."

"If his mother will allow it." Thorin snorted.

"Eh, why wouldn't she? She wasn't a bad little fighter 'erself when the mood took her, even if she did seem to forget all the training we gave her with that little letter-opener when the going got tough."

"She was never meant to be a fighter Dwalin." Thorin muttered heavily, absently rubbing the ache in his chest.

"Aye maybe, but when the going got tough she still fought with us." Dwalin replied and Thorin nodded silently.

In companionable silence the two made their way to down the corridor, coming to the door from which behind it they both could hear half-hearted chiding and amused tuttering.

Dwalin knocked upon the door once before entering the room, Thorin entering a moment after him causing for the room to become momentarily quieten down before the noise picked up again.

Thorin searched for the source of his current headache, quickly finding him sitting in an armchair, playing absently with some painted wooden toys – please let one those toys not be a dragon! – while Oin checked him over.

His nose was swollen and Thorin could see the lad was not going to get just one spectacular black eye but rather two, the lucky lad.

He looked very sheepish when he saw Thorin standing there, blushing deeply behind his bruise cheeks.

"Your mother is going to have my head the moment she sees you." was the first thing Thorin spoke all the while thinking that this would not be the only reason why Billanna would be asking for his head on a silver platter.

"Ours too." Paladin was sighing, though he looked more amused than anything else. Saradoc nodded as he gave Frodo's hair an affectionate ruffle.

"Really Frodo, I thought you had learnt your lesson about fighting those who were bigger than you after you last scuffle with Fatty Bolger."

"I won 'at!" Frodo protested, crossing his arms across his chest, wincing ever so slightly as he did so.

"Only because you tripped him up. And didn't he sit on you for a good three minutes before you finally kicked him off?" Paladin teased causing several amused chuckles from different members of the company.

"I sill won! And he 'asn't teased Sam or Rosie ever 'ince." Frodo added proudly while his two hobbit uncles rolled their eyes at each other in amusement.

"Yes but didn't your mother also ground you for two weeks…" Paladin question tapping his chin in a teasing manner causing Frodo to pout.

"Mam-be…" he glanced nervously around the room, his eyes landing upon Thorin, "I'm in b-ig wouble, aren't I?"

"Oh no," Thorin said striding to his child's side, taking hold of the boy's chin in his hand and peered into his face, assessing his broken nose and the bruises covering a good chunk of his face, "you're in huge trouble."

The boy pouted.

"For 'ighting? Or for being k'aught 'ighting?" The boy asked and Thorin heard his company and the hobbits behind and around him snigger as one.

"And which would your mother think the worst offense?" he asked as he let go of the boy's chin and took a measured step away from him.

The boy gave him a sly smile.

"Oo do ya t'ink 'aught me to 'ead-butt?" Behind him, Thorin heard Dwalin let out a bark of laughter.

"Oh, and a fine head-butt you landed on Lord Tren's brat too." Thorin sighed listening to his fellow company cheered.

"Should I even bother asking what the fight was about?" He asked pinching his nose.

"W'en and his friends… they – they started it! They were insul-ting Bofar and Bofdur and they wouldn't shut up, so I… I, um…" Frodo blushed sheepishly

"Yes?" Thorin prompted.

"I called 'im an… an ignorant frog." Frodo absently went to rub his nose, only to wince as a sharp stab of pain to shoot through his skull, "he didn't like that, obversy, cause he pun-ched me 'ight after-wards. Tat's when Bofar and Bofdur jump't in."

"So the whole fight was over you calling him a what? An ignorant frog?" Saradoc asked sounding a tad sceptical.

"Um," Frodo blushed beneath his bruises, "I may 'ave pro-oked him a 'ittle bit."

"A little?" Dwalin asked with a small smirk.

"Dust a 'ittle." Frodo held up his hand, holding his thumb and forefinger maybe an inch apart.

"Frodo." Saradoc groaned while Paladin chuckled.

"Remind me," Saradoc sighed, rubbing a hand over his dark sandy brown curls, "to tell you at a later date just how many fights your mama got into when she was younger because she let her tongue run away from her. Or better yet, get Lotho to tell you, he fell victim many a time to her words and fists."

"Hilarious." Lotho snapped from where he was sitting at the table reading a heavy book. "Difference between his mother's fights and the fights the boy's getting himself into here, are that his mother was fighting hobbits, he's fighting dwarves." The surely hobbit looked up from his book to fix Frodo with a hard look, "You might want to stick to people your own size and weight, or else you're next fight you might end up having more than a broken nose and bruises."

"There won't be a next time." Thorin rumpled. "After you've apologized to Lord Tren's son, you are confined to these chambers until your mother's arrival."

"'ut…" Frodo started while several dwarves around them grumbled under their breathes. "He star-ted it! He 'ould be apologizing to Bofar and Bofdur for the th'ings he said to 'em, not me to 'im! He 'served what he got! I won't… I won't apologize! Not un-less he apologizes to 'em 'irst." He glared angrily up at Thorin and Thorin was struck hard by just how much the lad looked like him.

Was there more of him inside of this child than his mirrored appearance? By Mahal's hammer don't let the child possess his weakness, let him be stronger than Thorin could ever be.

"You will," Thorin said looking away from the reproachful sapphires, "you will swallow your pride and apologise. And," he added determined to stop all outraged protests from the child before him and the company around him, "I will see if I cannot get Tren's brat to do the same."

"Mama…"

"Your mother would make you do the same." Saradoc stepped in before Thorin could say anything on the matter of Frodo's mother. "You know that she would, laddie."

"'ut he star-ted it." Frodo growled angrily, "and he's going to keep starting t'ings 'til someone is brave 'nough 'ops 'im!"

"Laddie," Balin spoke gently, stepping forward and to come stand by Thorin's side in front of Frodo' armchair, "you're speaking as if you were both grown dwarves. But neither of you are. You are both just children, and what do children do? They squabble. Let the squabble go, don't let it fester inside of you and form a grudge. Grudges," and Thorin felt Balin's eyes upon, "get you nowhere. Let it go. Swallow you pride, apologise and before you know the brat will have returned to Iron Hills with his father and you will be once more with your mother. Think of that and not on this silly fight. "

Frodo's chest was heaving and he still appeared furious but after a few moments he swallowed and nodded.

"O-kay."

"Good lad." Balin said with a wide parental smile and the others in the room breathed a sigh of relief while Thorin still stewed.

"I'm still grounded though, aren't I?" Frodo asked, looking to Thorin who glanced away from him.

"Until your mother arrives, yes. She can decide upon whether or not further punishment is needed." Thorin said and with that he turned and all but stalked from the chamber.

"Thorin." He heard Dwalin calling after him but stalked onwards,passing his nephews who were carrying bundles of food in their arms.

"Uncle?" he ignored them and moved onwards, to his study, slamming the door behind him and marched to his liquor cabinet, snatching up a flagon and pouring into it as much of his strongest liquor as it could hold before flopping heavily into his armchair.

He had barely taken to mouthfuls of the powerful stuff before his study door was thrown open.

"What in the bloody name of Durin was tha' all about?" Dwalin snarled as he and Balin marched into his study.

"What was what?"

"You and the lad! You were getting on fine one moment and then looking at him as if he were Smaug or Azog reborn." Dwalin rumbled furiously.

Balin nodded is agreement for his brother's words though his eyes held a hint of understanding in them.

Thorin shook his head and took another large swig of alcohol.

"Thorin!"

"He is like me… too much so. I can't…"

"Thorin!"

"I thought – I hoped it was only in looks that he took after me, but," Thorin shook his head, eyes wild and frantic as he looked over at his two oldest friends, "there is more of me in him than I thought and I cannot… will not allow for that to grow and fester within him. I will not…" Thorin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "He is Durin reborn, which means that Durin's curse will have an even greater hold upon him. I will not risk him falling to the evil that I…"

"But Thorin," Balin interrupted him gently, coming to move by his side, "it did not consume you. You were able to overcome its grips."

"Yes, but at what cost? When I cast out and harmed the one thing that actually mattered in my heart. I do not want him to be broken from this curse the same way as I was. I do not ever want him to fall victim to this curse, not if I can do something to stop it."

"And you think that by distancing yourself from him? Making him feel unwanted… unloved… will stop him falling to the darkness? That it will stop the sickness from festering within his heart? No Thorin, you may think you will be sparing him," Balin shook his white head, "but all you will be doing will be inviting it to him, doors wide open, begging to it tear apart the little boy who is only craving the love of a father he has not known all his life."

"And what, Balin," Thorin snarled at his friend, "would you have me do instead?"

"Be the father that I know is you are desperately craving to be to the boy. Mentor him, teach him to control his pride and temper, simply be there for him."

"And his mother? You do not think she will fear what my influences might have on the boy?" Thorin muttered bitterly.

"I cannot tell you Bilbo's mind. But I can tell you this, from what I know of our Hobbit, is that she would be far unhappier and angrier with you for pushing away your son than if you created a bond with him."

"He's right, laddie." Dwalin said and Thorin groaned.

"I do not know what I am supposed to do. With Fili and Kili everything seemed simpler; I knew what I was meant to do, what I was meant to be to them. But with the boy… I feel like I did in those early days of Smaug's desolation, completely lost and unsure of myself and what I was expected to do."

"But you survived and lead us true." Balin replied.

"Yes, and after how many wrong turns? At how many loses?"

"You are not in this alone, lad. We are with you, every one of us and soon, so will our burglar."

"She is another matter entirely." Thorin groaned.

"Aye, true that. But do you not think it would be better for all for her to meet with you again, with you having forged a strong bond with your child or for her to see the pair of you as nothing better than strangers?"

"But what if…"

"If he does, by some ill fortune, fall victim to the gold sickness, we will help him through it… you will help him through it."

"You have far more faith in me, my old friend, than I do."

"Give yourself time." Balin said gently, "soon you will do everything in your power to protect the laddie."

"I thought that was exactly what I was trying to do?"

"No, this is you burying your head in rock." Dwalin said helping himself to some of Thorin's liquor, pouring himself and Balin large mugs of amber liquor.

Thorin snorted but his shoulders sagged a little, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from them.

"Does the laddie know yet?" Dwalin asked as he and Balin sat down opposite him over his desk.

"Ah… yes, he does actually." Thorin admitted as he took a sip of his drink, "he had suspicions; I only confirmed them the other night."

"Eh? When?"

"The lad has wandering feet. Followed him to Smaug's bedroom. There we, ah… talked."

Fundin's sons raised their eyebrows at Thorin

"Smart lad." Dwalin said.

"Takes after his mother. Thank Mahal." Balin said softly into his mug.

"What was that?" Thorin asked with raised eyebrows.

"Hmmm? Oh nothing, nothing." Balin grinned back at him, all the while, Thorin rolled his eyes at Dwalin who was chuckling into his own mug.

"I will… make it up to the lad."

"See that you do." Balin said, "He's a good lad Thorin."

"And Tren's brat really did have it coming." Dwalin added with a growl.

"Why do I have a feeling that their fight had more than the brat simply insulting Bofar and Bofdur?" Thorin asked and watched as Dwalin grimaced.

"It does, but you can get the reason from the little laddie."

Thorin nodded and three sat in comfortable silence as they drank the rest of their liquor.

"You'll get the hang of it." Dwalin said as they got up and made to leave Thorin's.

"And if not…"

"Billanna will simply burn my braids." Thorin replied and the two brothers laughed.

TMPoT

Thorin was pleased that by the time he arrived went back to the hobbits chambers that the rest of his company had departed after a quick snack.

The hobbits greeted him a tad apprehensively but stepped back and allowed him in. His lips quirked into a small smile when he saw Frodo crouched by the roaring fire, happily playing with some stone and wooden blocks that he had stacked into a rather impressive replicator of Erebor.

Scattered around his mini mountain were metal and wooden figures that he was moving around, his lips moving soundlessly as he played.

"Frodo." Frodo's head jerked up, his blue eyes wide with surprise as his mind withdrew from his make-believe world and back into the present.

"Ah, 'ello." Frodo's nose now had a white bandaged over its ridge and his curls were gently curling over his forehead and around his ever so slightly pointed ears.

"May I?" Thorin asked as he watched out of the corner of his eye as the hobbits moved respectively off to their own rooms.

"Eh, 'es. Ple –ase 'ave a seat." Frodo gestured to the armchair that sat in front of the fire. After a moment Thorin sat down and Frodo looked up at him, hesitation filling his sapphire orbs.

"I'm not angry." Thorin started off because he knew that was something the child was probably worrying over.

"'Ut y-our dis-appointed, 'ight?" Frodo guessed, his sapphire eyes holding far too much wisdom in them for one so young.

"No, not really." Thorin admitted, leaning forward in the armchair, his hands hanging loosely into his lap, "I mean, I should be. That and angry at you, but I can't. Maybe because as of yet I still don't feel as if I have the right to be angry at you as a parent in these circumstances would be."

"t'en why did you look so an-gry b'fore?" Frodo asked a tad too cautiously for Thorin's liking.

"Because," Thorin sighed, "I thought I saw something that made me afraid."

"w'at?" Thorin shook his head, gently resting a hand upon Frodo's curly head.

"It is one of those things that is complicated. Not because I think you are silly or childish but because you are simply still too young to properly understand. When you are older I will explain to you what it was that I was worried about."

"Pas tentses? Aren't 'ou til a-faid?"

"I am, still" Thorin admitted, "but I have decided not to allow it to consume me. It will do no one any good, least of all you."

"Oh…ood." Frodo grinned widely before wincing as the muscles in his face stretched. "Ow."

"Yes. They do look rather painful." Thorin said.

"til won." Frodo retorted and Thorin chuckled before sitting back and comfortably watched as Frodo went on to build several more mountains and had his toys run over them – and yes there was, annoyingly, a dragon and several elves among his army of dwarves.

Thorin was content to sit there for hours, only for the quietness and peace to end all too soon as Balin, very apologetically came to retrieve him for another council meeting.

"B'ye." Frodo said with happy smile as he waved Thorin goodbye clutching in his hands a large black bear and gold and red painted dragon.

"Behave." Thorin ordered and fought back a smile as the lad gave him only a cheeky grin and innocent eyes before returning to his play.

Thorin left the chamber with a much lighter heart than the one he had stormed out with only a couple of hours earlier.

Chapter Text

"I'm still not so sure that this is a good idea." Nori was sighing as they came to a halt in front of the huge entrance gate of Erebor just on the cover of darkness.

"Good idea or not," Bilbo whisper back, "we are going through with it, correct?" She gave him such a pleading look that Nori felt his head nodding without his mind's permission. Without speaking a word he passed her her little letter-opener, as a way of showing her his acceptance of her plan even though he still felt it was a terrible one.

"Thank you Nori." She kissed his cheek and as quick as lightening slipped on her magic ring, turning herself invisible even though Nori could still feel her sitting in front of him. But only for a moment before she slipped off their pony without a sound. Nori didn't even bother trying to pick where she might be along the road leading through the grand gates to the great entrance hall, instead he simply re-shuffled the large bundle of cloth wrapped in a cloak more comfortably in front of him and rode on.

"Oh yes," Nori sighed as he saw Dwalin blink at him several times before striding off, obviously to get Thorin, "a truly terrible idea."

And as soon as he was dismounted from his pony and there were enough people around, he too disappeared, deciding that hiding himself down a mine-shaft for the next couple of hours was perfectly legitimate way of spending his time until their burglar felt the urge to reveal herself.

TMPoT

Truth be told, Thorin hadn't really expected for Billanna's arrival to Erebor to be without a hitch. In fact he had almost been counting on her to pull her disappearing ring stunt. What he hadn't been counting on was for Nori to off and disappear too. And really, when he thought about, he honestly should have.

It was amusing though to watch Nori's men stutter and trip over themselves as they spoke as one as they tried to explain that the spymaster and Miss Baggins had "been right here" only moments ago.

"Disappeared, really?" Thorin asked trying to keep his amusement and exasperation under control while next to him Dwalin coughed something that sounded suspiciously like 'mother like son'.

"Aye Sire."

"Well you had better getting searching for them, though…" and now he felt his amusement and exasperation slip away the moment he lay his eyes upon the prisoner wagon that was only now being unloaded.

"Deal with the prisoners first. Make sure that Bovin," he spat the name as if it were poison on his tongue, "is in the dungeon benefiting one of his level of treachery."

"Aye Sire."

"What of Bilbo?" Dwalin asked. "And that bloody thief?"

"Nori, we'll deal with later. Let us focus on Billanna." Dwalin raised his eyebrows at Thorin who shrugged. "We found Frodo ourselves; maybe we will have similar luck with our burglar."

"I don't think she'll get herself quite so lost as the lad did Thorin." Dwalin pointed out, "Mind like a trap that Lass has."

"Aye," Thorin agreed, knowing full well just how well their hobbit could memorise her way around a series of identical tunnels and corridors, "which is why I have a fair idea where she might start looking for Frodo."

"Oh?"

"Why else would she disappear like this? To find her child." Thorin replied simply, striding towards the one of the many grand staircases that led to the upper levels of the mountain. At least, that was what he prayed was the reason.

TMPoT

Seeing him again almost winded her and she had to lean against the stone wall behind her to keep herself from falling over as he and Dwalin passed her by on their way to the main entrance hall. He looked… well. Very well, actually.

In fact he almost, and she swore that this was true, had a bounce to his step. His face was no longer deathly grey; his mouth no longer set in a grim, furious snarl and his eyes, oh his eyes. They had so much life in them, so much.

He looked like the dwarf who had insulted in her front parlour all that time ago, calling her a grocer's daughter and asking what her weapon of choice was; axe or sword? He looked nothing like the dwarf who had snarled out his fury and hate at her as he threaten to throw her over the battlements to the ragged rocks below, his eyes half-crazed with the gold sickness and the desperation of their dire situation. Now he looked so alive and well, like the proper king he was always meant to be.

She swallowed thickly and closed her eyes, fighting back the desire to call out to him. This was not why she was here.

No, she was here to find her son – and the rest of her family too – and then… alright so she hadn't worked out the finer details of what exactly she was going to do upon finding her son and family but then, it really did depend on what state she found them in.

She ran silently along this corner to that corner, getting lost every once and awhile. It had been a very long time since she had walked these corridors and they had been dusty and dark then, not like how they were now, with bright torches every few metres casting a cheery glow.

She eavesdropped on several servants and noble dwarves, delighted when she stumbled upon a group of noble dwarrowdams chatting about the wee little halflings staying in the royal guest wing. That was a place she had a vague idea where to get to.

Grinning a little manically, she ducked passed the dwarrowdams and ran in the direction she vaguely remembered the royal chambers to be in.

Only she never got that far for up ahead of her as she turned into a deserted corridor, something small and soft hit her in the midriff, knocking her backwards and she fell heavily upon the stone floor.

"Ahh…" she winced, rubbing the back of her head and trying to keep the tears that were pricking uncomfortably behind her eyelids back.

"Mama?" And in that moment, Bilbo forgot all the pain and discomfort she had suffered through her latest horrific and terrible adventure at the sound of the dearest, most precious voice in all of Middle-Earth. For there above her was her own sweet boy, curls ruffled, cheeks flaming (underneath bruises!?) and his mouth twisted in a carefree grin.

"Fro-Frodo?"

"MAMA!" his arms were around her neck in an instant as she pulled him into hers, her face burying into his soft curls as she sobbed out her relief.

"Oh Frodo. Frodo. Frodo."

"Mama, you're here! You're finally here. I've missed you so much." Bilbo pulled off her ring, shoving it into her waistcoat pocket before hugging her baby again.

"I've missed you too my heart." She whispered into his curls, still sniffing softly.

"FRODO!?"

"Eep." Frodo said suddenly jumping out of his mother's arms at the sound of the thoroughly exasperated call of his name. The voice calling it sounded very much like Kili's, Bilbo thought.

"Come on Mama." Frodo said as he grabbed Bilbo's hands and started pulling her away from Kili's voice and in the direction she had just come; only he turned into left corridor instead of right.

"Um, sweetheart," Bilbo said as her boy pulled her deeper within the labyrinth of tunnels within Erebor, "where are we going. And what happened to your face?"

"Uh, a fight. I'm grounded but I snuck out when Uncle Pal and Sara's backs were turned."

"Oh Frodo." Bilbo groaned but allowed her son to pull her along to wherever it was he was taking her to.

"It wasn't my fault either, the fight I mean. But I still had to apologize, Thorin said so. But he made the brat apologize to Bombur's kids too!"

"Good." Because she was at a loss as to what else to say. Thorin had told him to apologize for a fight? Did that… did that mean he cared? About Frodo? Or was he simply trying to save his Kingly image?

Shaking her head, she allowed herself to be swept away with her child's mindless chatter as he pulled her through corridor after corridor.

They had just turned into a previously thought empty corridor when Bilbo was suddenly grabbed from the side. Her mind went all but blank as she slipped on her ring once more causing the dwarf who had grabbed her to yelp in surprise at suddenly finding his captive invisible. Not that he had long to think over this as his invisible captive – still trapped within his iron arms – starting smacking him around the head and kicking him around the knees while the boy child yelled in ignition, "let go of my Mama!" as he too took to kicking him around the shins. His legs by the end of this torture would be shattered like match sticks, he was certain of it.

"BILLANNA!"

Bilbo felt as if her whole body had suddenly been sapped of all its energy at the sound of his voice ringing throughout the stone corridor. She heard the guard she had been beating up give a relieved sort of wheeze while Frodo cried out his name in something that Bilbo could only class as sheepish delight.

Slowly she twisted herself in the guard's arms as she looked up the corridor to where Thorin, Dwalin, Balin, Oin and dear Bofur stood.

She swallowed thickly as she twisted her ring off her finger, feeling the odd sensation of becoming visible again. The guard holding her took a startled breath inwards but her old company didn't looked the least bit surprised.

"So," she was ashamed by how weak her voice sounded as she slipped her ring into her vest pocket, "I'll take it that you had nothing to do with all… this?"

"No." Thorin replied his eyes unreadable and she felt her heart sting as his face stared at her without a hint of emotion.

"Alrighty then…" and like she had all that time ago, upon the very first night of meeting these bothersome dwarves, she collapsed into a dead faint in the arms of the guard holding her.

TMPoT

Thorin wasn't sure what had made him lead his small company of dwarves (Dwalin had thought it would be a good idea to grab Oin, in case their little burglar need medical aide as her son had. Balin was along because he had always been fond of their little burglar and Thorin felt that Balin's presence would ultimately calm the hobbit lass down. And Bofur? Well, Thorin wasn't exactly sure of when Bofur had joined his party in the search for Billanna but he knew better than to send the miner slash toymaker away. For one thing, Bofur would refuse and only throwing him in a dungeon would keep him from search for their burglar on his own. And two, much like the reason Balin was along, Thorin accepted that Bofur would have a greater chance at keeping Billanna calm and happy upon their discovery of her.)down this particular corridor but the moment he heard the scuffles and the angry cries of his son – he really was going to have to post guards on Hobbit's door – he knew he had, for once, chosen the right path.

Even so, he wasn't quite prepared for the sight that he and the others came across once they turned into the corridor where the scuffle was clearing coming from.

He knew Billanna, or rather suspected Billanna would be wearing her magic ring, but no matter how many times he had seen her – or rather, not seen her – with it on, the sight of her wearing it was still peculiar indeed.

One of his guards appeared be struggling to control thin air while Frodo was kicking him furiously, all the while demanding that he, the guard, to let go of his mother this instant.

For a moment he and his company could only stare in dumbstruck silence as they watched the truly bizarre scene in front of them before Thorin finally found his voice.

"BILLANNA!"

The guard's struggles stopped immediately and Frodo looked their way with a sheepish, guilty expressed as he waved and said Thorin's name in such a Kili-ish way that Thorin was almost inclined to forgive his disobedience over being grounded and staying in his chambers before reminding himself that he would have to deal with his wayward son later, that his mother needed to come first in this instant.

He didn't blink as she reappeared in the guardsman's arms – though the guard looked extremely alarmed – and he didn't turn his gaze away from hers when she met his eyes.

"So," she said in a small, tired voice, her brown eyes exhausted, ""I'll take it that you had nothing to do with all… this?"

"No." he spoke too fast, too harshly, he knew that the moment he saw the look of hurt flash before her eyes – he also could feel Bofur glaring holes into the back of his skull and heard Balin long-suffering sigh beside him. His mind tried to get itself to focus, trying to think of something to reassure her that all was well, that she was safe.

"Alrighty then…" she sighed and to his horror she collapsed in the guardsman's arms. His feet moved on their own accord and in no time at all he was all but wrenching the hobbit woman from the guardsman's arms and peering anxiously into her pale, drawn face while Frodo whispered frantic pleads for his mother open her eyes.

"Back." Oin grumbled, "Back all of ya! Give her some air." The old healer shooed away Balin, Dwalin, Bofur – who gently took hold of Frodo's shoulders and pulled him away, all the while whispering reassurances to the lad that his mama would be fine – and the guardsman while he leant over her as she lay, silent and as still as death in Thorin's arms.

"Exhaustion." Oin spoke after a moment of silent contemplation, "exhaustion for the most part, both physically and emotionally. What she needs is good rest, food and knowing her a good long bath."

"Aye." Dwalin agreed and turned to the guardsman and dismissed him but not before telling him that if he so much as breathed a word to anyone of the odd occurrence just now… well, things would most defiantly become unfortunate for him. The guardsman yelped before nodding his head vigorously promising to keep his mouth firmly shut. Upon this promise Dwalin dismissed him.

Thorin cradled Billanna more firmly in his arms, his teeth grinding over how terrible thin she felt beneath her weather ragged clothes.

"We'll put her in the chambers that we set the Lad up in his first night with us." Thorin said and the company nodded. "Can someone go and fetch Dis?" He added and Bofur and Dwalin both ducked off to comply with his wishes.

"Frodo," Thorin said, turning to his son who was walking beside him and peering anxiously up at his mother, "no wandering off."

"Uh uh." Frodo nodded but just to be sure, Thorin was pleased when Balin took hold of one of the little lad's hands.

Thorin was relieved when he saw Dis and a dwarrowdam maid waiting for them outside the bedchambers that had been originally Frodo's before they returned him to his Hobbit family.

He wasn't overly impressed when he was unceremoniously booted, along with Frodo, from the bedchamber after setting Billanna into the bed, to wait outside while she was checked over for any and all injuries.

Frodo was slouched unhappily upon the floor of the corridor, only half-listening to some mad story Bofur was telling him – and Thorin was quite sure the toy-maker was making it up on the spot too – his blue eyes continuously glancing to the chamber's door, waiting for it to open.

And open again it did, after what felt like hours of waiting for news.

"She's fine," Oin rumbled, "or will be. She's exhausted and malnourished but no worse so than during our time in that blasted wood."

"Can-can we see her?" Frodo asked hopping to his feet.

"If you are very quiet and let her sleep, than aye, I don't see why not." Oin had barely finished speaking as Frodo pushed passed him and ran silently into the bedchamber, Thorin and the other's following cautiously behind him.

"Easy laddie." Dis was saying as Frodo clambered awkwardly upon to the bed his mother was currently curled up in, looking far too pale and frail for Thorin's liking.

"Uh huh." Frodo nodded as he settled himself down by his mother's feet sitting far more quietly than Thorin had ever seen him before.

"She has a nasty scar to her head that looks as if it got itself infected at one point," Oin said as he moved to Bilbo's bedside and gently brushed her tangle golden brown curls away to show Thorin a very nasty scar that cut from the side of her forehead down to her cheekbone, the white and pink skin puckering along where the cut had healed awkwardly.

"Battle of Five Armies." Bofur offered as an explanation, "hit by a rock or shield, the lassie ain't entirely sure herself." Thorin nodded trying to ignore the sick feeling churning his gut.

"She has a few more scars here and there," Oin continued, "but all old. A few bruises but they too are old and healing."

"So she is well, besides from the exhausted and malnourishment?" Balin asked, relief lacing his tone.

"Physically, yes. Mentally…" Oin looked over Billanna's tired face, "still remains to be seen."

"She hasn't changed much." Dwalin offered curiously, "Still looks the same as the day she agreed to our quest."

"Aye." Bofur agreed and Thorin heard an odd note the toymakers tone and wondered what it was to cause the toymaker to sound so worried.

"So Mama will be ok?" Frodo questioned.

"I think so laddie." Oin replied as he ruffled Frodo's hair before packing away his nasty smelling ointments back into his medical bag. "She just needs a good bit of rest and when she wakes food and water also."

"I'll stay with her until she wakes." Dis offered with a small smile. Thorin opened his mouth to protest before thinking better on it. It would probably be best it were Dis to be the one Billanna woke to. She may be a stranger to Billanna but at least she would be least likely to overwhelm and frighten her like he and the rest of their old companions might possibly do.

"Come on lad." He said tapping Frodo's shoulder and coaxing the boy down from the bed. The boy only pouted at him, his huge sapphire orbs becoming wide and begging.

"Can't I stay?"

"Your mother needs her rest, as do you. Come along."

"But…"

"Frodo."

"Alright." Frodo sighed heavily. With great care, the lad pushed himself up and laid a gentle kiss upon his mother's cheek before slipping off the bed with a pout.

"Good laddie." Balin said as the boy moved to stand with Bofur who gave his hair an affectionate ruffle.

"You will…" Thorin started to say to his little sister before she waved him off.

"The moment that she is ready to receive an audience I will come and get you. Not a moment before." She added when he tried to protest.

"Fine." He sighed and with that they left the chamber without much coaxing though Thorin did notice that Bofur was more or less directing the direction that Frodo was walking in, as the little lad was clearly unwilling to leave his mother sides. Speaking of which…

"Frodo."

"Hmmm?" curious sapphire orbs met their stern mirror image.

"No wandering in the middle of the night to visit your mother. You have heard Oin's orders; your mother needs undisturbed rest. Don't make me post guards on your door." The lad's cheeks turned a brilliant crimson colour beneath his yellowing bruises. For a moment, Thorin thought the boy would argue but eventually he nodded his agreement much to Thorin's relief. They returned the lad to his hobbit family and informed them of Billanna's arrival. They of course were all demanding to see her and it was only by, oddly enough, Bungo Baggins's intervention that Thorin and his dwarves weren't overrun by frantic hobbits desperate to see their kin.

"When she wakes, you will be of the first to know." Thorin assured them for the umpteenth time before they reluctantly allowed him to leave their chambers.

When she wakes, he thinks a tad more miserably than he was outwardly letting on, was anyone's guess. Billanna had been through a great deal these past few months and he had seen many fall into the living death slumber due to less.

The idea of her simply wasting away until death did finally take her was a truly horrific notion to Thorin and he banished it from his mind before it could set up root.

Billanna would wake. For their son, for her family, for their company. He didn't care in this moment if she woke and she wanted nothing to do with him, he didn't care if she hated him, just as long as she woke up.

"She'll be fine, laddie." Balin reassured him as they came to his study door, "she will wake."

"Strong stuff, our burglar is made of, though you would never guess from looking at her." Dwalin added as he clapped Thorin's shoulder reassuringly and Thorin felt the strength to smile, if only a little.

The two brothers left him then, to be alone with his thoughts. It was hard not to simply sneak back to Billanna's room, but he knew that Dis would boot him out as soon as she laid eyes upon him.

He rubbed his face as he walked into his study.

What was he going to say? Do?

How was he going to make her forgive him? Would she even feel inclined to forgive him for all that he had done? For all the grief he had caused her?

His hand slipped within his inner coat pocket and drew out her mother's marriage band from where it hung from it leather cord.

He stared at it for a long, long time before sleep, inevitably, took hold of him and pulled him into a slumber filled with dreams of happier times.

Chapter Text

Now normally, Nori could stay hidden in one place for days, unmoving, undetected but upon hearing the whispers that two hobbits had been recovered – and one of them being female – Nori was quick to extract himself from his hiding spot and head towards the upper city of the mountain.

He managed to go by unseen for the most part and those who did see him knew well enough to pretend that they hadn't.

He hadn't, however, truly expected for his luck to hold out for so long when he arrived at Thorin's study door without so much as one member of his old company jumping out at him along the way.

He was quick to pick the lock of Thorin's study, snorting with amusement when he saw his lord and king slumped over his desk, fast asleep. There wasn't even a bottle of strong liquor in sight.

Smirking widely, he closed the door silently behind him before moving for Thorin's liquor cabinet. Everyone in the mountain knew that their king had the best stock of alcohol around and if one had a chance; one should always try to get a taste of his selection.

He had just poured himself a large glass of mead when he heard a thoroughly exasperated sigh from behind him.

"Does no one under this mountain understand the concept of knocking?" Nori looked around to see his King slowly pushing himself off his desk and straightening his back into his chair.

"Sort of beats the point of sneaking somewhere unnoticed, eh?" He quipped back as he took a sip of the mead, smacking his lips together as the heavy alcohol slipped down his throat.

"And yet you still managed to get yourself caught." Thorin snorted softly as he tried to subtly rub the lingering sleep from his eyes.

"Ah, but who said that I was trying not to be caught?" Nori teased as he dropped himself into one of the chairs before Thorin grand desk. "Trust me Thorin, if I hadn't wanted you to catch me here, you wouldn't have." He grinned as Thorin gave him a waned little smile before his face turned serious.

"You found our burglar."

"Aye, I did. And then you lost her… again."

"We did not lose her," Thorin ground back, "we…" Thorin paused and pressed a hand to his throbbing temple all the while his spymaster grinned widely back at him.

"Is there any point of asking why both of you disappeared?" Thorin asked, fingers still pressed to his forehead, "I think I can understand her reasons for her disappearing act, but yours?"

"I knew that it would be my head on a platter if I arrived with Bilbo having disappeared upon arrival. So I felt, quite personally, that staging my own disappearing act was the best course of action until she was either found or she revealed herself."

"And hers?"

"She just wanted to see her laddie before she met up with the rest of us. Her mother bear instincts were overruling all her other emotions… and logic." Nori said and Thorin met his hard gaze.

"She is frightened then? Of us… of me?"

"She unsure of… everything." Nori said as he peered into his glass, swirling the contents of it around its glassy surface. "She didn't exactly have a pleasant trip here."

Thorin growled deep within his chest.

"Did they hurt her?"

"More mentally than anything else." Nori reassured his king quickly. The last thing either of them needed was Thorin to start breaking things. For one thing, it would create quite the mess and Nori would have to help the majestic idiot clean it all up.

Thorin sighed heavily before nodding.

"You're," Thorin looked up at his usually cool and mischief spymaster, watching as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "you're going to need to be gentle with her. For a little while at least. She has battle dreams and she has lost the innocence and trust that defined her character so brightly when we first met her."

"Battle dreams?" Thorin asked, his chest hurting badly as it restricted around his heart.

"Aye, and they're bad." Nori said sadly, "I thought that Bifur's were terrible but the ones that possess our lass at night…" He shook his head silently. "I've tried to get her to talk to me about them, but she's tight-lipped and stubborn about them."

"One of the others; Kili, Ori or Bofur maybe," Thorin ignored the slight arch that Nori's eyebrow took at the mention of the Toymakers name, "might be able to get her to speak about her dreams."

"Well, I wouldn't be so sure about that. Not when they've been visiting her for at least the last nine years and she's still having them."

"Oh," Thorin growled, though more exasperated than angry, "so you knew about their trips to the Shire as well did you?"

Nori shrugged, giving his King a wide and knowing smile.

"I'm your spymaster. It's my job to know the going on's of our old company."

"It is also your job to inform me of such important matters."

"Did I also mention that I'm a thief? We have our own particular code of honour."

"A code that prevents you from telling your king that his burglar is alive and well, with a child?"

"A code that speaks that we must protect those closest to our hearts. Bilbo has and will always be family to us Ri's. If she didn't wish to be found, than I wasn't going to be the one to bring the rest of the company down upon her head."

Thorin sighed heavily.

"I did… I did try to keep her safe Thorin," Nori admitted after a moment feeling his self-loathing resurfacing as he thought of all the pain their burglar had been through these past few months because Nori's eyes hadn't been watching as closely as they should have been. They had grown fat and slow, living far too well off the lands surrounding the Shire, forgetting exactly the reason as to why they had been sent there. When he had a free moment, Nori was going to knock some heads together.

"She is safe." Thorin relented gruffly.

"Just make sure that she knows that." Nori replied, "She still thinks she banished and though she won't admit it outwardly I know that she's scared stiff at the thought of how you're going to react to her being here."

Again Thorin sighed, pinching his nose.

"So she's afraid then?"

"A little, aye. Maybe not so much of you but more of what you'll be forced to do due to her banishment and also, ah…"

"Frodo?"

"Aye." Nori nodded before sitting back and evaluated his king with a small, amused smirk, "Fatherhood suits you, sire." He teased and Thorin shot him a half-hearted warning look.

"Don't start."

"Where is the little lad?"

"With his hobbit family, in one of the royal guest rooms." Thorin watched as his spymaster breathed out a subtle little sigh of relief while his face remained neutral.

"And Bilbo?"

"In another guest room. She collapsed upon our finding her."

"What?" Nori shot up out of his chair his eyes wild.

"Sit Nori, she is going… as I have been told numerous times, to be fine. She is simply… sleeping."

"Oh and that's sounds reassuring." Nori grumbled before sighing, muttering darkly to himself, "knew that it was a terrible plan." Over and over again.

Thorin allowed his spymaster to mutter away to himself as he got up to get himself a drink.

"When does Oin think she wake?"

"He doesn't know or he simply won't tell me." Thorin rumpled as he strode back to his desk with a large glass of amber liquid.

"Encouraging." Nori grumbled.

"He's adamant that she will wake, but that it will be on her terms, no one else's."

"Expect maybe her dreams." Nori replied darkly and Thorin winced. Battle dreams were terrible, terrible things, making you relieve over and over again the horror of battle, possibly tweak themselves slightly so you can watch those dearest to you die in new and more horrific ways than the last.

He knew the pain the battle dreams caused and he had hoped that she may have been spared them, now for all he knew she was dreamed in one right now and there was nothing at all that he could do to help her.

Nothing at all.

TMPoT

The dwarf guard, best known by all simply as Weasel, moved cautiously down one of the upper city corridors.

He wasn't meant to be in this section of the city, he wasn't high enough in rank for one thing. He was only a lowly gate's guard but if he did this mission correctly, without faults or mistakes, he's luck may change for the better. His employer had promised him many things for the right kind of information. Especially information of the coming and goings of the royal family and those low-born jump-start companions of the king. His employer was very interested about their movements. And Weasel had the Arkenstone of all information for his Employer today, information that was even better than that of the King having a bastard son. With a Halfling no less. And not any Halfling too he had discovered with amazement and disgust, but the one who had stolen the Arkenstone and allowed for the King's stone to fall into the filthy hands of tree-shagger king. And information about the traitorous Halfling whore was exactly what Weasel was bringing to his employer this very moment.

Only, he was going to have to watch himself as the prostitute's son of a Spymaster had returned and was sneaking somewhere around the mountain right this very moment and very little slipped by without his notice.

If the King's Spymaster caught him and found out about his little "arrangement", life would become very unpleasant for him indeed. Actually, his life may just simply end, if not by the Spymaster's hands then by his employers. His employer was very strict about keeping his name out of all suspicious activity that could possibly ruin all of his plans. Plans that Weasel had no idea what they entitled but his employer was a smart dwarf and he was certain that his plans would benefit all the dwarves in Erebor.

He tapped a series of coded knocks upon a dark oak door, trying to look as unsuspicious as possible. The door opened the moment he finished the knock coded and his entered the lavishly furnished chambers.

"Milord?" he bowed deeply to the dwarf seated behind an oak desk that had papers neatly stacked upon it. Behind him the dwarf servant who had opened the door, closed it with a quiet snap before disappearing into another chamber.

"Weasel." His lord greeted him without looking up from the paper he was currently reading over.

"I 'ave information, milord."

"Obviously," His lord snorted, "for why else would you be here?" Weasel blinked at him for a moment before shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

"Well?" Weasel's lord demanded, "What information do you have? Has the little brat run off again? Next time I see him, I will snap…"

"No, milord. Well aye, the little brat did run a way again, but that's not all the news I 'ave for ya. I 'ave news about his whore of a mother."

His lord looked up sharply, his eyes brightening with interest.

"She has arrived then?"

"Aye milord, but she disappeared 'fore she entered the Eastern Gate. As did the Spymaster, for that matter. She was found again with her bastard mongrel a short time later, but milord, the guard who caught them, and I swears he speaks the truths, he says that she turned invisible right 'fore his eyes."

"I beg your pardon?" his lord sneered.

Weasel nodded his head up and down.

"It took a long time ta get it out of him, but he swears upon his beard, that she disappeared in his arms when he grabbed 'er and then, reappeared upon the King's calling 'er name."

"Some Halfling trick?"

"He don't know, Sir." Weasel shrugs his shoulders helplessly, "but he swears upon Mahal's great hammer that this is the truth he speaks."

Still his lord looked neither impressed nor convinced.

"Many a dwarf has sworn themselves black and blue that they speak the truth when their mind is addled by liquor. Take no mind of his tales and tell me what the King has done with his whore."

Feeling ever so slightly deflated by his lord's lack of reaction towards what he considered amazing news, Weasel much more sombrely, spoke of how the king had moved the Halfling whore into a royal guest room and that she was being taken care of by none other than the Lady Dis herself.

"The nerve!" His lord spat. "Her head should be rotting upon a spike but instead she is being treated as royalty! This, this is proof enough that our King is weak. That his mind is still sick from the madness that consumed him eleven years ago. Her and her mongrel will be exactly what we need to make the Seven Kingdoms see that Thorin Bloody Oakenshield is not fit to be our ruling King. And same should be said for his nephews. You said that the youngest has a particular fondness for the bastard. And you also made mention that he had been seen associating himself with elves!"

"Aye milord."

His lord rubbed his hands together.

"Our plans have been met with many hardships but I'm sure, with Aule blessing, we will see the fruition of all our sweat and blood, we will be victorious and the dwarves of Erebor will once more be pure."

"Aye milord." Weasel agreed though truthfully he had no idea what his lord was on about but stood silently as he watched his lord continued muttering to himself.

"Weasel?"

"Yes milord?"

"You said that the Spymaster has returned, correct?"

"Aye milord." Weasel replied as his lord moved back around his desk, rummaging around in one of his drawers for a moment, "I'll 'ave ta take care now that he as returned. If he ta catch me, who knows what he'll do ta me."

"Aye and what information he will get you to reveal." His lord replied.

"Oh no milord." Weasel said with a firm shake of his head, "I'd never speak a word of my assignments. Nor a word about or against you."

His lord smiled widely at him, nodding as he twirled an odd looking quill around his fingers.

"I believe you Weasel," his lord replied, "you've been a good servant. Very useful to our cause. But…" he looked down at the quill in his hands, "I fear that your employment has comes to an end."

"Milord?" he asked, frowning deeply.

"You are no longer any use to me. And with the return of the Spymaster, it would only be a matter of time before he caught your lumbering arse, extract what little information you know out of you and all our plans would start to crumble. And we can't have that, I fear. You're a liability and liabilities," his twirling of the quill grew faster, "must be cut lose and destroyed."

Weasel couldn't even muster a cry before the quill that his lord had flicked in his direction was embedded in his throat, in the tiny space between his armour and his helmet strap.

Already chocking and his chest restricting with every breathe he took; he yanked the quill from his throat and dropped it to the ground, his knees following shortly after it.

"Why?"

"Nothing personal, Weasel," His lord replied as he started shuffling papers upon his desk, "just business. In times to come, your sacrifice will be known to all as the pebble that started the beginning of the end for the line of Durin and the creation of the golden age of the dwarves of Erebor." Weasel listened as his lord gave a proud chuckle before he called out the name of his servant to come and rid of the body. His body. Weasel's world was beginning to grow dark and his body weak but with what little strength he had, his heavy fingers curled around the quill that had killed him. Once his fingers hand managed to curl around the quill, hiding it in his palm, the needle digging almost harmlessly against his tough thumb, he dragged his weak hand to his chest, pressing his fist over his heart.

He wasn't sure why he had done this, had no plan other than forcing his failing lungs to intake another struggling breath of air. But in his final moments of life, it seemed to be important. And when the life finally left his body, the quill remained clenched tightly in his hand, the lord's men taking no noticed of his clenched fist when they lifted him and carried his body through back corridor and hidden staircases until they came to one of the hundreds of caverns where the stone fall away into one of the thousands of mine shafts.

Without a single thought, they dropped him over the edge and turned their backs upon his falling body as it plummeted down the abandon mineshaft, thought to never be seen again. But like with many things that are meant to stay hidden in the darkness, the truth always, eventually comes to light and the pebbles will start rolling, for better or for worst.

Chapter Text

Nori was more than a tad amused by his reception to the rest of his company. Upon the moment they saw him walking side by side with Thorin they had all but tackled him, all demanding answers about their burglar.

Where had he found her? Had she been badly mistreated – Nori was half tempted to say yes, she had been, if only for an excuse to beat the still smug grin that was for some reason still decorating the face of Bovin son Brovin's to a bloody pulp. It unnerved him just how calm the traitorous dwarf was about his and his company's capture and it was something that he would very much like to look into, now that Bilbo was no longer solely in his care. Just as he had promised, for the whole trip to Erebor he had not left her side for a moment, even while she slept. Now that she had others to look after her, he was determined to get to the bottom of this terrible mess – and other questions along those lines.

He answered them to the best of his ability knowing that only by seeing Bilbo fully awake and happy would reassure his old company that their burglar was alright… or at least on the mend.

"Right, well now that I've answered your questions," He said and he tried not show just how eager he was about the next thing he asked, "there is someone I would very much like to meet."

He was amused when all of his company seemed know exactly who he meant without him even needing to ask.

They lead him to the royal guest rooms, where he had already known the hobbits were kept, Dori knocking politely on the door.

It was opened by a golden brown haired hobbit who looked up with a surprisingly wide and welcoming grin.

"If they're dwarves don't let them in." Bellowed a thoroughly annoyed and fed up voice from deep within the guest chambers.

The golden brown haired hobbit rolled his eyes good-naturedly at them before shouting over his shoulder, "We're currently residing in a mountain full of dwarves! Of course they're dwarves! Who else would it be?"

"Do keep up Lotho." Added another voice and the golden brown haired hobbit was joined by another hobbit, this one with golden curls, who gave the company an equally wide and welcoming smile as the lad beside him.

"Good morning." The first hobbit said before looking in confusion at his fellow hobbit, "or is it afternoon? Can't tell now, what with being underground for so long." The lad shrugged, "either way please, come in." and with that the two hobbits politely stood out of their way. As the company filed into the guest chambers, the two hobbits darted back to the table they had obviously been sitting at, playing chess, from the looks of it. There was a loud huffing noise as one hobbit with dark chestnut locks stalked into the sleeping area.

"Don't mind him; he's just in a foul mood." The golden hair hobbit offered his eyes apologetic.

"Not that he isn't always. But in this case, he's simply woken up on the wrong side of the bed." The other Halfling added and the two gave each other amused smirks.

"only-only," Nori looked towards the fire where a very, very old hobbit was sitting in arm chair, his face twisted in what might have been a look of disapproval on any other face but a hobbits, "because you-you both tipped his bed – bed over and – and poured the-the water jug over him." The two hobbits snickered for a moment before forcing themselves to appear serious

"Yes… well, he was saying that he needed a bath." The two hobbit sniggered while the older hobbit rolled his eyes before giving the company a small nod of welcome before settling back into his chair with his book.

It was then, when Nori looked to the floor beside the old Halfling that he saw Bilbo's lad. The little lad was entirely in his own little world, completely ignoring what was happening around him, focusing solely on the pieces of paper in front of him, happily drawing away – much like Ori had done when he was a small lad and ignoring his continuously arguing brothers – on a small table, that was littered with the odd book or painted wooden toy.

"Hello Frodo." Kili said striding forward to crouch by the little lad, who looked up at him with a blink of surprise, blushing slightly underneath some yellowing bruise, clearly a tad embarrassed at having been caught by surprise.

"Hello." Lad had a wide smile, much like Kili's and eyes that danced with happiness and joy. They were his father's eyes but the merriment and acceptance within them were definitely inherited from his mother. Bright eyes that had immediately zoned in on him, growing all the brighter with curiosity and – and this was very surprisingly indeed – recognition. As proven by the lad's next words.

"I know you." The boy cried, before chewing on his bottom lip – which was such a Bilbo thing Nori was hard pressed not to laugh – thinking hard, "or at least, I've seen you before."

"Oh," Nori asked in teasing tone, "and where might you have possibly seen me?"

"Around the Shire." The boy said simply with a shrug, "Mama never does, but I have. You usually lurk in the shadows. I tried waving to you once but a cart went in front of me and then you were gone."

"NORI?!" he watched in amusement as the hobbits in the room jumped and the one who had sulked into the bedchambers, stuck his head out the doorway, peering out at them with a frown.

"You – you knew..." Dori was stuttering, "You knew about the lad?"

"Oh yes," Nori with an amused air about him that he knew only irritated his brother all the more, "for years. Not as long as Ori, Kili, Bofur and Bifur have known, of course, but I've known for quite some time. And you're right," Nori said turning back to Frodo with a smile grin, "you did see me. First person to see me when I've wanted to remain unseen. You have very sharp eyes." The boy blushed with pleasure and grinned shyly at him.

"I'm Nori, by the way." He said with a small bow and the little boy giggled.

"Yes, I, um, guessed from the cry of your name. Also you're the only one of Mama's dwarves that I had met, so it wasn't too hard to figure out who you were."

"Observant aren't you. Or are you simply cheeky?"

"Mama says that I'm both." Frodo grinned good-naturedly back. Yes, most definitely his mother through and through, with some hints of Fili and Kili thrown in there too. Really, it seemed that all Frodo had inherited from Thorin was his black hair (which was a curly as any of the other hobbits in the room) and his sapphire blue eyes (only his were merry while Thorin's were almost always in a constant state of solemnness).

He grinned as he reached and tweaked Frodo's button nose.

"You have your mother's nose." The boy blushed while the rest of his company looked from Nori to Frodo in amusement.

"Thank you?" Frodo asked and Nori winked at him.

Nori wished that he could have stayed longer getting to know Bilbo's lad but there was work to be done, so much sooner than he would have liked he was marching out of the guest chambers with Thorin, Fili, Balin and Dwalin, heading in the direction of the dungeons.

TMPoT

Bovin was in one of deepest, darkest, most miserable of all prison cells that Erebor had to offer and the bastard was whistling. Whistling of all things! Nori wondered how long the whistling would last once Thorin got his hands on him. Nori himself had been fighting to keep himself from murdering the dwarf the whole way to Erebor and now, now there was nothing really stopping him from making his wish come true… except, maybe, for his King. His king who wanted answers and could quite possibly beat him to the punch with the whole murdering Bovin plan.

Bovin didn't appear to be the least bit surprised when he saw them and half dozen guards coming to stand outside his cell. In fact, it seemed to only amuse him further.

"Well this is a very merry gathering, indeed." He greeted them with a wave and bright smile that had a sadistic edge to it.

"Are you mentally deranged? Or simply too blind with arrogance to realise how dire your situation is?" Nori couldn't help himself but grate out.

Bovin looked at him, his eyes glinting in the dim light from where he sat on his threadbare pallet.

"I was only trying to be polite towards our king under the mountain." He stood up and gave Thorin a small bow but it, like his words, was nothing more than mockery.

Thorin didn't even blink. During his and his kin's exile this kind of mockery was commonplace.

"I don't care for your manners or formality, I only care for…"

"What information I might have in regards to your little Halfling? Yes, I figured out that much myself. Otherwise," he started picking at his fingernails as he spoke, "you wouldn't be keeping me alive in these truly admirable conditions." He gestured to his dripping ceiling and almost frosty stone walls and bars.

"Damn straight." Dwalin snarled.

"You have information now…"

"It's amazing," Bovin interrupted Thorin again, "how someone so tiny can instil so much loyalty and a desire to protect. Even members of my own… company, I suppose you could call them, were drawn to her."

"She has that affect, more than I can say for you." Balin replied tiredly.

"That's because," Bovin smirked, "I am not a weakness, a chink in the armour. She is going to be your down fall, mark my words."

"And that means what, exactly?" Thorin asked slowly, careful to control his temper and his desire to beat Bovin bloody. Nori could feel Fili trembling with barely contained fury beside him.

Bovin simply shook his head.

"It would be best for you if you revealed yours and Bzog plans." Balin said softly.

"Oh?" Bovin raised eyebrows, "so you know of Bzog?"

"Aye, that we do." Balin continued, "We also know that Bzog charged you with the delivery of Bilbo to him. Why?"

"Revenge. She denied his father his rightful trophy of his highness head and helped to bring about his untimely demise."

"Untimely?" Fili snarled. "His untimely demise?"

"Fili." Thorin warned quietly. He turned back to Bovin, "Revenge?"

"Yes," Bovin said, "and we were to bring her to him alive and unspoilt. He didn't say much more than that."

"And you were just happy to take an innocent person to orc, fully aware of what fate would be awaiting her." Nori snarled.

"She was a job. He was offering good money. Why pass up…"

SMACK!

"Thorin!" Balin sighed while Dwalin, Nori and Fili grinned. Thorin shook his throbbing fist as Bovin sat up off the bottom of the dungeon, spitting and choking on his blood.

"I would have also gotten good money for the little brat. Another Son of Durin to add to…"

SMACK!

"I would stop talking like that, if I were you," Dwalin snorted as Thorin withdrew his fist again and Bovin staggered backwards on to his pallet.

"This is getting us nowhere." Balin sighed, shooting Thorin a thoroughly exasperated look. "Thorin. Maybe it would be wise for you to sit this one out."

Thorin returned Balin's look with one of his own, before glancing down at his bloody fist.

"Fili." Fili turned his glaring eyes from Bovin to glance over at Thorin who jerked his head from the direction they had come into the dungeons.

"Right." Fili nodded and strode to his uncle's side.

"You think that they are safe, Thorin Oakenshield. Safe here, within your mountain." Bovin jeered from his cell. "They'll never be safe, not while they live. Bzog will never stop hunting for her and by now he will know of the mongrel bastard that she bore you and he will be after him as well. He won't stop, not ever, not until he has both their heads on spikes. And there will be nothing you will be able to do to stop him."

"I killed his father," Thorin snarled without looking back the miserable excuse of vermin behind him, "I saw his brother being crushed by a skin-changer. I will see his death before he lays so much as a finger on either of them, that," he looked back at Bovin who was watching him with gleaming eyes from a bloody face, "you can mark my words on." And with that the King and his heir stormed out the dungeons, leaving Bovin alone to the questioning of Balin, Dwalin and Nori.

No torture would be enforced yet and hopefully, there would be no need for it. Even though Bovin deserved all manner of the worst kind of tortures that Thorin could think of, Thorin was not that type of King. Or rather, he refused to be that kind of king.

Oh yes, he allowed for Dwalin and Nori to show off their rather impressive collection of knives during an interrogation but he rarely, hardly ever allowed them to use them. And when they did use them, it was only to cut off beards and braid. A terrible kind of torture in and of itself, but no blood was spilt, only the destruction of one's dignity and honour.

But that, even the loss of his beard and braids didn't seem punishment enough for Bovin. Nor did locking him up until the end of his days. Thorin wanted him in pain, wanted to draw it out and make Bovin suffer and that… that scared him.

The last time he had felt such emotions had been when Azog the Defiler was still alive and there was a fair distance between the desire of torturing an orc to the torturing of one of your own species, no matter how repulsive and sadistic they were.

But really, in the end, it wasn't up to him. By dwarven laws, it was the one who had suffered the greatest offence who chose the punishment for the crime. If Bilbo asked for torture, than tortured Bovin and his company would be. If she asked for their heads to be mounted on spikes and those said spikes were to be station all over the side of the mountain, then it would be done. Yes, there would be a good many protests, but overall, within reason, whatever she asked to happen to Bovin and his company, would happen to them.

Only Thorin was silently hoping that she asked for none of those things or any of the other things his mind had thought up as fitting punishments for Bovin and co. The thought of her asking for things, and she had every right to, made him feel sick because she was never meant to ask for them. She was their sweet, gentle lass who had shied away from fights, who had been violently sick after killing her first orc.

Yes, she had every right to wish all manner of revenge upon Bovin and his company, but Thorin prayed that she would not. For the sake of her soul; her innocent and pure spirit. He wanted what was left of that innocence and purity to remain as untainted as possible. He knew that if she were to ask for their torture, for their deaths, that later, maybe not right away, the guilt would find her. And it would consume her until it finally destroyed her. And he would not have that; no he refused to allow for that to happen, for her to allow for that to happen to her. Something would be done to Bovin and his company, mark his words, but not by her hands. Her hands would not be tainted by their blood.

Thorin sighed and pressed his fingers to his temple, fighting to keep Bovin's words from consuming him with terror. They would find Bzog before any more harm came to Billanna and Frodo and they would have his head mounted on stick outside of Erebor, to warn all other orcs and goblins that Erebor and her king were not to be trifled with.

Smirking, he and Fili returned to the upper levels of the mountain, immediately dragged into mind-numbing council meetings about trade, mining and construction.

Chapter Text

She knew that she was dreaming but as it always started as such a good dream, she allowed herself to simply sink deeper within the peace and love that she felt in it, even though she knew that terror and grief and pain would be quick as a knife in the dark to follow. It wasn't the first time that she had dreamt a dream such as this and she was sure that it would not be the last.

She dreamed that she was walking through her beloved hobbit hole, searching, as always, for her wayward son only for her to turn a corner and suddenly find herself within the grand halls of Erebor, her dwarves walking around her, laughing and joking with each other, all sending her wide and friendly smiles and gesturing silently towards the throne room. She was never sure why, but she always knew that they were telling her where she could find her lad.

Smiling back at them she ran in the direction that they were all pointing, her smile only growing wider when she heard the sounds of her son's laughter. Picking up her pace she came with a rush into the grand chamber to see her son being swung around by Thorin, who was grinning as widely as their son. She could feel the tears pricking behind her eyes as she moved towards them.

"Mama!" Frodo's cry of her name was filled with delight as he squirmed in Thorin's arms to be let go and ran towards her, his arms embracing her in a fierce hug. She looked up at Thorin who was smiling softly back at them as he started moving after her son… their son.

He had just reached them when, as usual, everything turn to chaos and grief. The halls of Thorin's forefathers burnt away by dragon's fire and suddenly she was outside, standing upon Erebor's great rocky roots, an army of orcs and goblins streaming towards them from all directions.

Frodo screamed against her, his face buried into her stomach as she desperately reached for Sting only to find that she was without her little letter-opener. She could hear the screams of her dwarves around her as the goblins and orcs swept over them like crashing waves. She could see Bovin and his company swarming along with the orcs, smirking maliciously as they helped to attack her friends.

Smaug flew overhead, his flames burning the air, his roar causing the ground beneath her feet to tremble, hissing out words that made her heart pound furiously within her ears, "Where Thief? Where are you?"

She pulled Frodo along with her as she ran, hoping to find some hiding spot away from the terror bearing down upon them.

Frodo screamed and she felt her arm being yanked back. She swung around to see her baby in the hands of Azog, a knife pressed to his throat while Bovin smirked at his side.

"Frodo!" her arms were being caught by invisible hands, holding her back from her child.

"Let go! Let go! Frodo!"

"Mama!"

The world burnt around her and she was left kneeling in darkness with Thorin leaning over her, his hands tangled within her hair, his fingernails and rings biting into the back of her neck.

"Thorin, please…" she sobbed and struggled against him, "Frodo! Please our son!"

"You miserable hobbit!" his voice echoed around her and her neck throbbed horribly as his nails and rings bit more deeply into the flesh at the back of her neck. And then he was gone, his head all that remained being held by Azog along with… along with…

"FRODO!"

"Easy Halfling," gentle but iron firm hands took hold of her frantic shoulders as she thrashed about in the soft bedding that she was currently lying in, holding her down as her heart raced and her mind was still clouded with panic.

"Frodo…"

"Your son is safe. You are safe." The voice above her reassured gently, hands still firm against her shoulders, forcing her to remain still upon the bedding.

"Safe?" she choked out, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Where am I? I don't know where I am!"

"Erebor, Mistress Baggins. You are in Erebor. As is your son and the rest of your family"

"Ere-Erebor?" Bilbo blinked away her tears and slowly, with the release of the hands upon her shoulders, sat up and took in her surroundings.

She was in a well-lit stone room with very little in the way of décor or furnishings, with the only furniture in it being the bed she was currently in, a bedside table, a desk and chair pressed against one wall, a large wooden wardrobe. A large and very comfortable looking armchair sat in front of merrily crackling fire. There was also, to her great delight, a door leading to a private bathing room of to one side room.

But what truly stole her breath away was the dwarf sitting by her bedside.

Thorin… ah no, not quite.

"Dis?"

The dwarrowdam seemed to be amused by this guess.

"He mentioned that you were quick, I just did not belief how quick. I have been told, though, that the family resemblance is very strong to those outside of our family. Personally I don't believe I look a fig like him but I have been informed otherwise."

"You talk more than him." Bilbo said before clapping a hand to her mouth, horrified by her blunt words. The dwarrowdam however did something that surprise Bilbo ever further… she laughed. "And you have more of a sense of humour than what I remember him having." She added, still somewhat cautious.

"Aye, that I do. It was not always so, once he was quick to smile and laugh as my lads still sometimes do, but then the great worm flew into our halls and stole that away from him…" Dis's sapphire eyes grew dark for a moment and Bilbo felt an old terror grip her heart. But then the moment was over and Dis's eyes cleared to a gentler colour of blue than her brothers, even at his sweetest of moments.

"How do you feel?" Bilbo jumped at little at Dis's sudden blunt business tone.

"Ah…" and of course it was at this moment that her belly decided to grumble.

She blushed violently.

"I beg your pardon." But her apologies seemed to only amuse the Dwarrowdam further.

"Wait here and I will summon for some food to be bought to us."

"Ah thank you." Bilbo muttered, though really she had no wish to stay put. She wanted to find her son, though maybe not before she took herself to the lavatory. While Dis left the room to summon up a servant, Bilbo swung herself cautiously out of the bed, wincing as her stiff muscles protested loudly to her movements. She must have been asleep for quite some time for her muscles to seize up like they had.

Her feet landed lightly upon the stone floor, her white night dress flapping around the top of her feet. She went to take a step only to squeal as her legs gave out on her sending her tumbling to the floor, groaning and wincing as her limps howled out in agony.

"Now lass, what are you trying to do? Kill yourself?" Bilbo only groaned as she felt Dis's strong hands take hold of her and pull her to her trembling feet.

"Lavatory?" Dis guessed without a hint of embarrassment even though Bilbo's cheeks glowed brightly.

"Come along." Dis helped her walk to the bathing room and into the lavatory just off of it. And then once she was done, after spending a moment to admire the glorious bathtub in the centre of the room, Dis helped her back to bed. It was amazing how such a short trip could exhaust her so.

"Thank you." Bilbo gasped as she flopped limply back down upon the bedding.

"You are very welcome. Do you need anything?"

"Just food please. And more sleep. And then," and she wrinkled her nose at this, trying not to think too long on just how dirty her body currently was, "a bath,"

Dis gave an amused chuckle before moving to open the chamber doors where a servant was waiting with a tray of food. Bilbo felt some energy flow through as she smelt the wonderful smelling stew and hot bread making its way over to her being carried by Dis on a tray.

She set it down carefully upon Bilbo's lap and it took all Bilbo's self-control not to simply rip into the offered food.

"Thank you." She said instead and picked up her spoon carefully and spooned up some of the beautifully smelling stew.

"You are very polite, aren't you?" Dis observed and Bilbo looked over at the dwarrowdam curiously.

"Not," and Dis smiling widely, "that there is anything wrong with being polite, but as you've most likely noticed we're a very blunt race, we do not spend too much time on niceties."

"Oh, well… niceties is basically the code that us hobbit's live by." Bilbo admitted with a shrug as she tucked into her dinner… or was it lunch? Or maybe even breakfast. Being beneath a mountain did mess up ones internal clock with no sun or moon to go by.

Not that it truly mattered when all she wanted to do now, having finished her dinner… lunch… breakfast… food was to curl up and sleep. Which she did so but not before looking over at Dis from where she was placing the tray outside of the chamber's door.

"My son? And family? Are they…"

"They are all well. Your little lad has been demanding to see you for the past two days, coming by every couple of hours. Most of the time chaperone, sometimes not." Dis gave her an exasperated but amused smile.

Bilbo sighed softly.

"Yes, that sounds like my lad." She sighed sleepily. "Does he… does Thorin…" her words were growing heavy upon her tongue and before she knew it she had fallen once more in to a deep sleep. She still had nightmares but they were easier to deal with now that her belly was full and she could see a light at the end of the tunnel, promising her peace and safety, away from the mindless and brutal chaos that were her memories all mashing together to create one huge horrific dream landscape.

She would never be free of her nightmares but at least she had these rare moments of peace and she cherished every single moment of them.

Chapter Text

Nori did not like mines. Oh sure, they made wonderful hiding places when you have no wish to be found by the authorities, or thugs… or your mother hen of an older brother. Those times were fine. But besides from those times, Nori disliked them with a passion. He did not know how Bofur and Bifur could stand to work down in those dark, claustrophobic tunnels that, at any moment, could cave in on top of you and crush you to be as flat as a plate. It may seem silly to some that he, Nori was quite comfortable living under a mountain but at the same time disliked and at times point out rightly refused to enter a mine that lay beneath the very mountain that he lived under. It really didn't make sense. But that was simply how he felt whenever he entered those damn places and as soon as he entered one he was already dreaming of getting out of there.

"Bofur, you had better have a bleeding good reason for call me down 'ere." Nori growled as he strode to where the mine slash toymaker was leaning against one of the many, many mine's entrances. On a closer look of the miner's face, Nori could immediately see that something was bothering him. His face was not wearing it usual go-lucky grin but instead was twisted into a worried frown as he nodded his head in direction of one of the mines.

"It's be better ta just show ya than try and explain." The miner replied before lifting up his lantern and heading down into the mine, Nori following after him grudgingly, trying to ignore how the walls seem to close in around him.

After a time of not saying a word to each other, Bofur obviously noticed his silence and let out a small snort of laughter.

"How can ya hide down 'ere for days on end and be fine. But when it comes to quick trip, yer more worked up than rabbit caught between a net and a rock."

"Necessity and desperation." Nori retorted and Bofur snorted again, his shoulders once more filling with tension that had disappeared in the moments of his teasing. Nori opened his mouth to question Bofur's unease only for Bofur to start talking once more.

"Didn't really know what ta do, but I thought it best ta grab ya instead of the guards. Didn't want ta raise an alarm when there be no need." Bofur said, rolling his shoulders.

"Alarm?" Nori asked slowly. They both knew that the mountain was on high alert since they became aware that their king had had a child with his burglar and that said child and burglar were now in the mountain. There were some who protested loudly and wanted both of them sent away; claiming that their burglar was still banished by dwaren laws and by all rights, her head should be on a spike. Thorin had been fairly quick to shut those particular voices up, but still there was a great deal of unrest around the mountain. The common folk, funnily enough, were more accepting of the idea of their king having a child with his burglar, most not really seeing her crimes against the crown as huge and as terrible as a good deal of the nobles did. Most common folk, upon hearing her crime of taking the Arkenstone and using it as a bargaining tool as a means of saving her company's life against the army of men and elves awaiting upon Erebor's doorstep, actually felt she had done the right thing. Maybe it wasn't done quite in the right way, but they could see that her heart had been in the right place and that was enough for them to accept and for them not to raise their voices and cry for her head. The common folk, where they might have had issues with what Bilbo had done a century before now accepted what she had done as someone facing a desperate situation and going to desperate measures to resolves it. They understood this and Nori had even heard many of them saying that they, if they had been in her situation, would probably have done something similar. A great deal of the common folk of Erebor had come from humble beginnings and did not hold the wealth of gold quite so highly in their priorities as the noble families did. They had learned through hardship to rely more heavily upon their smithing and mining abilities to survive and not on how much gold lined their pockets.

It was this sort of thinking that had the company hoping beyond hope would convince Thorin's bloody council that they needed to stop calling for Bilbo's head and actually accept that she had, in fact, saved the lives of their king and his two heirs.

"Aye." Bofur replied with a short nod of his head causing his hat to flap ever so slightly, "Come on, just a bit further."

Just a bit further turned out to be quite a bit further and Nori was determined – if the tunnel around him didn't cave in upon his head before he got out of the blasted thing – to teach Bofur the true estimation of distance. That said, it might just be easier for him to say the next time Bofur said 'just a bit further' to go stick 'a bit further' up his arse and turn around and go home. Mahal he hated mines. Even when he used them as hiding places he never went into one this deep. Usually he just found a snug little nook, not too far in, and hid in there until it was safe to come out again.

"Are we there yet?" he growled, trying to make the silence around them not echo quite so badly as it did.

"Just a bit…"

"Say that one more time and I swear…" Nori growled. Bofur rolled his eyes at him before taking a left and suddenly they came into a large chamber, the walls of it glittering as they caught the light from Bofur's lantern.

"Alright, so this time you really did mean just a bit further," Nori grumbled grudgingly as he took a few deep breaths and feeling the weight on his shoulders lift as they walked further into the wide space.

"Aye," Bofur replied seriously, "but this ain't what I'm showing ya." Bofur jerked his head to one side of the stone chamber.

"Eh?" Nori followed his friend, frowning when he noticed an unusual shape lying by the wall of the chamber. "wha…" he took a closer look with Bofur's lantern now shining over the shape and cursed.

"Aye, that's what I said when I found 'im." Bofur said Nori squatted down beside the dead dwarf, raising his lantern higher so that Nori could get a good look at him. "Knew immediately tha something was off about 'im, just can't say what. Tha's why I came and got ya, thought ya might 'ave a better idea or what not."

"You're right," Nori agreed, "This ain't a normal death. He didn't die from his fall, but even if he had you would still ask why a lower level guard would be doing so deep in a mine." He looked up a t Bofur, "you haven't had any issues with any of you miners, have you? Ones big enough to get some lower level guards involved?"

Bofur shook his head.

"No more than usual." Bofur said scratching his head. He took quite a bit of pride in his miners. Yeah they had their moments of being right pains in the arse, but all up his dwarves were a good bunch, hard, honest workers the lot of them. "And we 'ave our own guards who we report any skirmishes to. Only go to city guards if tha problem breaks outside tha mines."

"Hmmm, that's what I thought. So what's our friend doing down here then? Does anyone else know he's here?"

"Nah, just meh. Unless someone came up this way in between my grabbing you and bring ya here. This is a new section, see. No one meant to come here til we're sure it's safe."

"You mean it's not?" Nori yelped, his head snapping in the direction of the tunnel they had use to get here, almost expecting to hear the sounds of rocks falling and for tunnel to suddenly be filled with rumble, trapping them forever.

"Oh calm it." Bofur snorted, "Its fine, we're safe. It's meh job to check out the safety and structure of mines."

"By yourself?"

"Usually. Or Bifur's with meh. Ya need ta remember that fore Erebor, I worked in tha mines of the Blue Mountains… smaller crew there, more jobs tha ya had ta do yer self. Guess, still not out of tha habit yet."

"Oh… right." Nori muttered a tad lamely, "So…we're safe."

"Aye."

"… Good." Still feeling a tad nervous, Nori turned his attention back to the dead dwarf. From what he could tell, almost all the bones in the dwarf's body were broken, hinting that the fall had been a great one as dwarf bones were not easy ones to break, needing a good deal of force to do so.

Nori peered up into the darkness above him, wondering just how far up the opening this dwarf had fallen from was. Still, not that it exactly mattered, not when Nori could see that it wasn't the fall that killed this dwarf. No Nori was fairly certain this dwarf had been already dead when he took his plummet down into the mines. Only… that didn't add up either.

Normally when this sort of thing happened and Nori was going on his experiences in Ered Luin more then any he might have had in Erebor – which were none. Erebor, despite the odd brawl here and there, had not been faced with all that many murders. And if they had, those murders had all be easily solved as being the result of drunken fight gone very, very wrong. In Ered Luin however, it had been a completely different story all together. Every day there had been murder, some were the result of a drunken fights gone wrong (or right in some cases) others had been of a far more sinister nature. And that was the nature Nori felt surrounded this dwarf's death. But still, nothing added up. If the dwarf had indeed been murdered, which Nori was feeling was a strong definite, then all the usual markings were missing. He was still in his guards uniform, meaning that right away they could identify him as being a lower level city guard and from there figure out who he actually was. All his possessions seemed to be still on his person which suggested that this wasn't a robbery gone wrong. And lastly but possibly most importantly, his beard was still intact. If this was an act of vengeances or a passion kill then the dwarf's beard would have been shorn clean off his face, but it hadn't been. Going over all these things, Nori found himself quickly becoming even more bewildered with every passing moment. And Nori did not like being bewildered. It didn't happen very often and he resented all who made him feel this way.

He rubbed his beard, humming under his breath.

"Nori?" Nori ignored the miner as he cocked his head to one side, for when Bofur had moved forward ever so slightly, his lantern had shown ever so slightly over the dead dwarf's closed fist.

Nori narrowed his eyes as he reached over and pulled at the dwarf's fist, which had become like a vice in death around the thing it held.

"Come on," he growled and finally a small quill fell into his hand. For a moment he was disappointed, but only for a moment as he remembered seeing darts and such back in Ered Luin that contain all kinds of toxic poisons. With this in mind he kept his fingers well away from the tip as he rolled the peculiar thing off his palm and into a scrap of cloth. As soon as he handed over the body to the appropriate people he would take the quill to Oin to run tests over.

"Nori?" Bofur said again. Nori stood up, lips pursed in annoyance, his eyes roaming the chamber for any possible threats.

"Something's going on." He muttered, "I knew before I left that something had started brewing below the surface of this mountain, but I thought that it was still just that, brewing. Now," he waved his hand through the air, "now, it's moving. Slowly, but it's moving. And I can't… I can't tell from where it's moving from. I don't know who started it. Only that they have and… argh! I hate being blind!" he threw his hands around him, feeling anger, frustration and self-doubt burning within his veins. He was failing again. He could feel it. Like he had failed in protecting Bilbo in her home, he was now failing to protect his own.

"Nori, wha…" Bofur said looking at him bewilderment.

"Don't you see," he exclaimed, "we're missing something, all of us. Something is happening and we don't know what. Or why! Or…"

"Or it's nothing and ya just over-thinking things and in need of a good night's rest." Bofur butted in, though Nori could see that the miner was starting to look worried.

"Or that." He relented for a moment, "but I don't think so. And neither do you. Something is going on inside this mountain. Something bad."

"Well," Bofur sighed as they both looked down at the dead dwarf, "we'd better find it fore the brewing catches fire and burns us whole. Done nough burning for one life time, thanks"

"Aye to that." Nori snorted, trying not to remember too hard of being chased all around the bloody mountain by a great burning furnace with hurricanes for wings.

In silence, the two dwarves wrapped the body in a cloak before hoisting the dead weight upon their shoulders. By the time they reached the entrances to the mines, all of Bofur's workers had left for the day and only the mines night-shift guards remained. Barking at one of them to be quick and to go and fetch the King's head guard the two continued on their march – surrounded by guards now – to the Halls of the Dead, pleased to find when they got there, Dwalin and Oin waiting for them.

Oin, with the help of a Mahal's priest went over the dwarf body while Dwalin and the other two stood outside the halls, recounting to Dwalin the tale of how they found the dead dwarf's body.

"Don't ya ever sleep, thief?" Dwalin questioned Nori once they had both finished their tales. "Ya barely in the door and already ya've pissed us off by up and disappearing ya sorry ass when our burglar vanished. Ya reappear only to steal alcohol off Thorin. Then ya go and meet our burglar's lad fore taking yourself along to interrogate the bloody," Dwalin was clearly struggling to come up with enough insulting terms to describe Bovin with that the two dwarves left him to it.

"Ya were involved in Bovin's interrogation?" Bofur asked, frowning ever so slightly at the thief. Nori shrugged.

"I caught him, so to speak. And I'm the King's spymaster. Of course, I was involved in his interrogation… not," he growled, "that we got much out of him, the…" he swore a few fairly creative curses in his native tongue that caused even Dwalin to pause in his own rant to look at the thief with raised eyebrows.

"Ya should of just stuck picks in ta his eyeballs tha moment you caught 'im." Bofur spat furiously, ignoring that the stares he was getting from his King's Head of Guard and Spymaster as he kicked the stone wall beside him angrily.

"hhmmm," Nori started slowly, thinking ahead to carefully choose his words, "as tempting as that is, Thorin is a bit against us using torture. On anybody."

"He should make an exception for this." Bofur growled but both guard and former thief heard the fire that had been in his tone before had now died down to an ember.

"I think he'd like to only…" Nori glanced at Dwalin who nodded and Bofur groaned, pressing his face into his hands.

"Has she woken? Ave you heard?" the miner looked so sad, so tired as he looked from two of them, his eyes pleading before growing dark as they shook their heads.

"Give her time." Nori said as he placed a comforting had upon his friend's shoulder, "ya know how much she loves her sleep. She'll wake when she's ready" Dwalin let out a small snort of laughter while Bofur gave a weak smile.

Oin found them soon afterwards, his face drawn and his eyes narrowed as he rumpled his finding. His face became only more troubled when he was shown the quill that Nori had found within the fist of the dead dwarf. Tucking the quill deep inside his medical bag, he muttered to them that he would inform them all soon of his findings before he scuffled off back to his private laboratory.

"Well, that's encouraging." Nori muttered while the other two grunted. "best we go and tell Thorin, eh?"

"I will," Dwalin replied, "you two take yerselves to the pub, buy a round on me, ya both look like yer've had the Defiler shit in yer faces."

"Thank you Dwalin, for that mental image." Nori groaned as Dwalin dropped a handful of coins into the hand of a thoroughly disgusted Bofur.

"No worries. Ya know, ya look like ya brother when ya pull that face" The huge dwarf replied as he marched off with the two dwarves staring after him in disgust. Nori made a rude hand gesture at his back while Bofur turned his attention to the coins in his hand, counting them quietly under his breath.

"Sick, twisted bastard." Nori grumbled under his breath, though he was now actually more insulted over Dwalin's 'looking like his brother' comment than anything else.

"He can be sick and twist as he likes for all I care, he's still paying for ale." Bofur replied, "come on, let's grab our brothers and cousins and go ta the Silver Cavern. I can get smashed and ya can pick pockets and ears."

Nori shrugged, knowing full well that Dori would almost immediately say no to going to the pub – upon hearing which pub it was – and Ori would be forced by Dori to say no, only for him to then sneak out of their house moments later to join Nori in the pub. It was sort of weird game that his brothers played; one Nori usually initiated and then sat on the sidelines to watch how it played out. He wasn't sure who won and who lost these games, he wasn't even sure if there were even meant to be winners or losers. But still, these games were amusing to watch as a bystander and they seemed to not harm Dori or Ori in anyway. In fact, Nori was pretty sure the two of them enjoyed playing them.

He rubbed his beard, suddenly feeling incredibly tired, his frustration and confusion over what was happening within the mountain gnawing away at his insides. What he truly wanted to do was get to the bottom of whatever was happening but he knew there was no chance of Bofur allowing him to sneak away this night to go and do just that. So instead, he allowed himself to continue being pulled around by Bofur in grabbing their respective brothers and cousin in Bofur's case and heading off for their favourite pub. And there, Nori did just as Bofur suggested. Not so much pick pockets, but he did spend a good chunk of his time listening in on conversations. He discovered much that night but not much that was of actual use to him, but everything he learnt he tucked away. You never know when having a fondness for chickens can be used as effective blackmail.

Smirking slightly, Nori downed his ale as he pretended to watch Bofur break into song on top of their table, Ori covering his face with his hands, trying to hide just how much he was laughing while Bombur and Bifur and the rest of the pub cheered Bofur on.

And even if Nori couldn't fully shake the feeling that he was missing something huge, he did enjoy his night with his friends, even if he did have to lug his very tispy little brother back home. To him, tispy Ori was hilarious and adorable, to Dori, however, not so much. But really, did Ori have to be quite so loud with his proclamation that Dwalin was the finest dwarf that any a dwarf should live. Nori snorted and resettled his little brother over his shoulder, smirking as Ori continued on with his 'how wonderful Dwalin was' rant all the way home.

So say the very least, Dori was not impressed.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifty

Reunion

The second time Bilbo woke, it was in a far more gradual fashion and her mind was able to collect itself before she stirred herself fully awake.

“Good morning.” The quite beautiful dwarrowdam sitting by her bedside greeted her from over her book; her dark blue eyes twinkling with a friendly light that Bilbo was fairly certain she could count on one hand how many times she had seen a similar look in the dwarrowdam’s brother’s eyes.

“Good morning.” She replied, still feeling a little groggy as she slowly sat up. She was surprised when she felt cool metal chain weighing lightly upon her collarbone.

She gently touched the chain, surprised to find her magic ring hanging innocently from it. She felt a moment of fury and a twinge of jealousy in her chest at the thought of someone touching it, but forced herself to relax by reminding herself that it was still with her, hanging safely around her throat.

“Your old clothes were a mess – beyond repair, really – so I had them sent away to be destroyed, but I saved your funny little ring before your clothes were taken. I felt that having it around your neck would be the safest place for it.” Dis offered as an explanation to Bilbo’s unasked question.

“Ah – Thank you.” Bilbo replied, feeling immediately ashamed for her unkind thoughts. She smiled sheepishly at the lovely dwarrowdam who smiled in return.

“I would take a guess you are hungry?”

“You guessed correctly.” Bilbo replied shyly.

“Do you think you would feel up to seeing your child and family today? Your little lad is quite desperate to see you. One can only keep a child distracted from his mother for so long before he starts taking desperate measures to visit her.”

“Oh, yes of course.” Bilbo gasped her heart beating madly at thought of seeing her darling boy.

“But only if you’re feeling strong enough. Oin has left strict orders for you to not overexert yourself. He’s says you are known for doing such things.” Bilbo blushed.

“Well, maybe once or twice. In desperate times… when I had no other choice.” She paused for a moment before adding, “Blame your brother. He could be very demanding.”

“Oh yes,” Dis said with a roll of her blue eyes, “I know. Follow him to the ends of the world most of our folk would, only for him to forget that normal living beings require such things a food, water and sleep.”

“And then he would get you lost, so…” Dis chuckling interrupted her sentence.

“I think I’m going to like you, Mistress Baggins.”

“Likewise, Lady Dis.” Dis patted her hand with a wide grin before moving off, summoning up a servant and ordering Bilbo some much needed breakfast.

Bilbo sat in her bed, moving various limbs, gaging which parts of her hurt most. Overall, she actually felt quite well, except for the hunger gnawing away inside her gut.

“Here we are.” Dis said as she laid as tray stacked to bursting with all the foods that Bilbo adored, it was hard keep her mouth from watering.

“Bombur?” She guessed as she tucked into the food.

“Aye. But he took suggestions from your family. I believe one of you cousins may have let loose a family secret recipe when it came to the eggs benedict.”

“That’ll be Paladin.” Bilbo said as she dug into said eggs benedict and was immediately reminded of her mother’s cooking and the secret ingredients that her grandmother, her mother’s mother, added to the hollandaise sauce.

“Grandma Took will be rolling in her grave.” Bilbo added with a grin.

“Is it true that the only secrets hobbits keep are their recipes?” Dis asked as she took up her chair once more.

“Ah, yes, pretty much.” Bilbo admitted with a blush, “we’re quite a simple race. Everybody in the Shire basically knows everybody else’s secrets. And generally that’s fine by most of us, except when it comes to our prize winning recipes which we guard with our lives and will destroy any who steal them from us.”

“Really?” Dis appeared to be quite shocked by this news.

“No,” Bilbo snorted, “but we do guard our family recipes fiercely. Pal must have been worried about me. That or he let his tongue run away with him again… wouldn’t be the first time.” She added to herself, remembering being told by a giggling Eglantine just how Paladin’s proposal had gone… or not gone as was the case.

The poor lad had gotten so tongue tied that he ended up rambling for full twenty minutes – and letting loose a few too many family recipes – before Eglantine had taken pity on him – and had gotten over her giggling fit – and finished his proposal herself by kissing him and saying, yes, she would marry him.

Bilbo remembered the girls in her living room swooning over this while she had been trying not to choke on her tea in laughter. Luckily Frodo had woken from his nap just at that moment and she was able to excuse herself before she let out a few very undignified snorts of laughter at her cousin son’s expense. She had, however, made a point to tease him when she next saw him, with Saradoc and Drogo happily helping her to do so.

“I believe it was a bit of both.” Dis offered.

“Either way, Grandma Adamanta would be after his head. She was quite proud of her eggs benedict.”

“Yes, they are very good.” Dis replied and Bilbo grinned in amusement.

“Well, if she heard dwarves complimenting her recipe it may just be enough to cool her temper. She had a trace of vanity; my grandmother did, when it came to her cooking.”

“I believe that is trait you have inherited, correct?”

Bilbo laughed.

“Yes, I have, actually, from both my grandmother and my father. I didn’t… I don’t have very much too be vain over, but my cooking is something that I am.”

Bilbo watched in interest as Dis gave her dark head an amused shake, her eyes filled with wonder.

“You truly are an odd little thing, aren’t you?” Bilbo shrugged.

“I’ve been told that… often. How am I odd in your eyes, if I may ask?”

“You may.” Dis said with a gentle smile, “You are odd in the way that you are entirely not what I expected. At all. The way my boys, Kili in particular, and other members of the company spoke of you, I was expecting this great warrior hobbit, but instead here I am facing a very kind, very grounded lass. And I must say, I prefer this way of seeing you than the lass that was painted for me by others.”

“Oh.” Because she was at a loss for words as to what else to say otherwise.

“I have embarrassed you now,” Dis said sounding still amused. “I apologize.”

“It’s fine. I’m just not used to people liking me, just as I am.” Bilbo replied, ducking her head causing her mattered hair to fall over her face. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Ew…”

Dis chuckled.

“After you’ve finished your breakfast, you can have a nice hot bath.”

“Oh that would be heavenly.” Bilbo said, closing her eyes at the very thought of a bath, a nice hot one. A proper one. She ate the rest of her breakfast with renewed gusto while Dis summoned for a maid to help with the filling of the bath.

“The plumbing,” Dis explained as the bath was filled with steaming buckets of hot water, “is still not what it used to be. Will drain well enough, but still hasn’t quite been fixed to pump hot water around the mountain yet.” Dis finished in exasperation.

“Don’t you have baths that are continually filled with hot water from underground springs?” Bilbo asked, trying to keep her face neutral even though she could feel her cheeks warming at the thought of a certain bath that did just that.

Dis looked at her curiously before answering. “Not as many as we would like and they are scattered around the mountain, quite annoyingly. How did you know?”

“Um,” and her blush was truly present now, “Thorin may have grown fed up with my whinging to be clean and showed me the royal hot spring bath in the royal wing?” she offered, all but giving up on keeping her face neutral.

Dis simply looked amused but, thankfully did not press her for more details as she helped Bilbo out of her bed. Not that Bilbo would ever tell her what had happened, she hadn’t told a soul about her time spent in the royal bath, nor that a good chunk of that time had been spent with Thorin. In the bath tub… doing things that would be considered the very opposite of getting oneself clean.

She was fairly certain that Frodo was conceived in Laketown, but in some of her most private of moments she did wonder if there might be a chance that her son may have in fact been created in that hot spring bath…

Yes, right, not thinking about that, not at all.

How, how could she start thinking about that with him at time like this? She had been so good, so very good at keeping herself from thinking about that or him… together and here…

She pressed her hand to her forehead, fighting back a groan.

She stared longingly at the bath and the moment it was full she wincingly, with minimum aid from Dis and the maid, pulled herself free of her nightgown, trying and failing to ignore the brilliant decoration of bruise covering her body and slide into the tub, floundering for a moment before she found her footing. She was delighted to find a small ridge that was meant to be sat on while one bathed.

“I will take a stab and guess you would like to bathe alone?” Dis asked.

“Oh yes, if you wouldn’t mind. I hate being a burden.” Dis shook her head as she dismissed the maid.

“Not a burden, not in the slightest, but I know how one wishes for their own privacy with their thoughts. I will leave you with them. Call for me once you are ready to get out.”

“You may have to wait awhile.” Bilbo replied as ran her fingers through her horrid hair.

“If you need any help.” Dis added.

“Thank you. I’ll see how I’ll manage first.” Bilbo smiled and Dis left her to her own devices. She immediately snatching up all the soaps and lotions on the side of the bath and started to attack her hair with vigour. It took at least three washes before it felt even remotely clean. She gave up on it for a moment before she went about scrubbing the rest of herself clean.

It took a long time and by the end her scalp throbbed and her skin was bright pink from all her scrubbing but at long last she felt whole and like a proper hobbit again. Never, ever again would she go for so long without a bath. Not ever again.

She rest head back against the rim of the bath and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of warm water around her.

She would have fallen asleep if weren’t for her body registering that the water was turning cold. She sighed heavily as she reached for the towel that Dis had laid out at easy reach for her and as she forced her tired, weak legs to stand in the tub she wrapped the soft towel around her body. She stood there for a moment, trying to ignore just how weak she felt at doing something as simple as standing up before she cautiously got out of the tub.

She stumbled a little as her legs gave out for a moment but she was able to steady herself once more against the bath’s stone rim.

Once she had dried herself off, she pulled on a shift that had been laid out for her next to where the towel had been over her head, closing her eyes as the soft fabric moved over her skin. Silk, she was fairly certain that the fabric was silk and it was truly lovely. As she folded her wet towel over a warm stone railing, she plucked up another and started rubbing her locks, her fingers already delighting in the softness of her curls.

Humming her ‘Walking’ song beneath her breath as she padded out of the bathing chambers feeling far more alive and herself than she had felt in weeks – except for those moments spent with her child upon her arrival in Erebor – and smiled a wide smile at Dis who was once more settled in her chair by Bilbo’s bed, reading a thick, blue leather bound book.

Dis returned her smile easily, closing her book and setting it down upon her chair as she came to stand in front of Bilbo.

“Feel more alive now?”

“Oh,” Bilbo grinned, “most definitely. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” Dis said with a small wave of her hand, “unlike some barbarian’s in this mountain I can appreciate being nice and clean.”

Bilbo nodded her head in agreement, grinning as she remembered several instances which involved having to convince several members of the company that having a bath was good idea. The end result did of course end with those members being thrown bodily into whatever body of water that had been deemed worthy to bathe in.

Her stomach still hurt from laughing so hard and she could still remember how her cheeks had burned as she spun on her heels to avoid seeing dwarven body parts that respectable hobbit lasses were not meant to see.

Her good mood however dissipated quite quickly upon seeing the garments that she was expect to wear during the wait for trousers and shirts to be made in her size.

“Oh please,” she groaned as she looked over the pretty – and it was, truly it was. It was probably one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever laid eyes upon… except for the few she had seen elven maids wear but Bilbo had enough sense of self-preservation not to mention that in present company no matter how calm and friendly Dis’s demeanour had been up to this point – gown of rich emerald green fabric. The gown was made up of different layers, with each layer being a different shade of green. It had high bodice and long sleeves over which bell-sleeves lay. The skirt would have been much too long for her but she could see that it had been hemmed to accommodate her short stature.

“Please,” She looked away from the marvellous gown, “this is much too grand for me. Do you not have some old trousers and a shirt that I could wear instead?”

Dis shook her head an amused smile once more playing on her lips.

“Not at the current moment. All that would be of your size, your family is currently possessing. More clothes are being made as we speak but for the moment, this is the best we can do for you.” Bilbo fought to keep her pout from showing of her face as she continued to eye the pretty gown unhappily.

“You will not be losing your independence the moment you wear this, Mistress Baggins, and I’m certain no one in the company will think any less of you for wearing a gown.”

Bilbo snorted.

“You never heard your son’s reaction the first time he saw me in a dress.”

“Hmmm, I believe it was something along the lines of ‘you look like a girl’. Am I correct?”

Bilbo rolled her eyes.

“Yes, you are. Did Kili tell you or did one of the others. I smacked him over the head with Sting for that remark and pronounced him a half-wit.”

Dis chuckled and shook her head.

“That boy of mine. Honestly, there are times I don’t know what to do with him.”

“He’s a good lad,” Bilbo relented, “he has a good heart and his head is usually screwed on straight. And when it’s not Fili is always there to set him right again.” She smiled fondly as she thought of her two favourite Durin boys. So different and yet so similar, she adored them both as if they were one of her very own cousins.

Dis smiled softly at her, clearly pleased and Bilbo suddenly wondered if this was all some kind of bizarre series of tests and if so, had she just passed one of them?

With little fight, though her body did ache a little at having to be dressed in restrictive garments, Bilbo was dressed, with some help from Dis, in the emerald green gown, musing to herself how much the gown actually suited her and brought out her natural colourings.

She did not believe for a second when Dis told her that the gown was actually an everyday dress and no one would think for a moment that she was trying to make herself stand out or look far grander than she was. There was no possible way that this beautiful dress could be worn every day, unless everyday was some kind of special occasion.

“You know us dwarves are very dramatic creatures and as such, we like to wear bright and expressive clothes all the time.” Dis explained as she tied up the last of the ties to Bilbo’s dress.

“Yes, but this…”

“Is an everyday dress. Honestly my dear when you see what other dwarrowdams’ wear… what other dwarves wear you will feel as plain as a simple candle-stick.”

“I bet you I won’t.” Bilbo retorted before sighing in defeat as she ran her hands over the dress once more.

Dis gently caught hold of her chin and tilted her face upwards to look at her.

“You know dwarrowdams are rare to us. One is born to every three dwarves… actually I believe it may now be one to every six, but no matter. What does matter is that every female born to us, even those born of common blood is considered precious and is treated as such. If you were to be dressed as how you wish to be dressed, in plain trousers and shirts, it would be considered to be of the highest of disrespect among my people. That you do not appreciate your own worth and significance… nor does the royal family. It would reflect badly upon everyone in the company for you to be immediately be seen dressed in poor, plain clothes. In time, you will be able to, I should think but in these early days, with so much turmoil stewing around this mountain already, it would be best for you to be dressed in this manner. Do you understand?”

“Not really.” Bilbo admitted, “But I will do as you ask, for yours and the company’s sake. I don’t wish to be any more of a burden than I know I already am. I know that my coming here has/is causing more issues than I can possibly even imagine for all of you.” She swallowed nervously as she placed a hand over her thudding heart. She blinked back the tears that were building behind her eyes.

“I never planned on coming back. Not once. And maybe that makes me a coward, to plan as far as sending my child here to meet his family but never planning on accompanying him myself. But I knew, from the moment that he was born that Frodo’s life would a difficult path to walk, I only wished to ease one of his steps.” She shook her head, brushing away her foolish tears, “all that planning, and for what? I’m here now, I best make the most of it.” she growled more to herself than to Dis whom presences she had all but forgotten about.

“The world is made up of cowardly, selfish people Mistress Baggins.” Dis said as she took Bilbo’s chin in her rough, work-worn hand, “I do not believe that you are one of them. And any act that you have committed that is perceived as cowardly or selfish, your heart was most likely in the right place and set upon the wellbeing of your family, your friends… your child. Do not be so hard on yourself, little one, for the wish of sending your child to meet his father, in a land far from where you were born is an act of great bravery and selflessness.”

“Planning.” Bilbo grumbled, “It was all still planning.”

“Even so, you still took those steps and for that, that makes you far braver than most women in your situation would be.”

Bilbo gave the dwarrowdam a small smile before sighing as she ran her fingers through her tangled mass of curls, wincing as her fingers caught in the knots.

“Where’s Sting?” She groaned when she finally tugged her fingers free, “I’ll cut the damn lot off!”

“Don’t you dare.” Dis retorted as she caught Bilbo’s arm and marched her to her bed, coaxing her sit up on it as she pulled a silver handle brush out of her robes – Bilbo had no idea how the dwarrowdam managed to hide it in them – and before Bilbo could say another word, the dwarrowdam was sitting behind her and was brushing her tangled curls in soothing wipes.

Bilbo closed her eyes and felt her body instantly relax beneath the princess’s gentle care of her hair. It had been years since her hair had been brushed in such a manner. Yes, her dwarves had, in moments of sheer frustration at her rough treatment of her hair, attacked it and braid it into styles that didn’t have her threatening to hack her hair off when it fell into her face or got caught on her buttons or beneath her back pack or coat. But still, those times had been spent with the dwarves grumbling about her lack of respect and care towards her hair – though really, how they could say that when most were repulsed at the very idea of bathing – while this, this was simply relaxing, reminding her of times long past, of her mother who died far too young. The closest anyone had ever come to reminding her of those quiet times with her mother was oddly enough the brother of the lady who was currently doing so.

She had – and secretly still did – found it both amusing and adorable how attentive Thorin had been when it he played with her hair. And played with it he had… a lot. Any quiet moment that they had managed to share together, his hands were in her hair, braiding it sometimes but most of the time he simply fiddled. Curling one of her curls around one of his large fingers and watching it spring away with a mixed look of awe and, dare she say it, delight.

“There.” Dis said finally after several moments of companionable quiet. Bilbo slipped cautiously off the end of the bed and walked over to the floor length mirror that stood in the bathing chamber. She was more than a little taken aback when she saw the creature looking back at her from the mirror. Though still very pale, there was an almost unearthliness about the creature staring back at her, dressed in rich shades of green, with golden brown locks braided and twisted around the crown of her head before falling in soft curls about her shoulders. She wasn’t as beautiful as the elves she has seen walking the halls of Imladris nor did she hold a candle to the regal beauty that Dis simply wielded without a care or thought, but if she did say so herself, she would have to agree that despite how she felt on the inside, on the outside she was looking almost pretty. In fact she almost felt confident enough dressed up as she was to face Thorin and the others.

“Are you ready?” Dis asked after she gave Bilbo a moment to examine herself in the mirror. Bilbo shot her a nervous smile.

“As ready as I’m going to be. Do they know I’m awake?”

Dis nodded.

“While you were bathing I sent a message to let the others know that you are ready to see them. They should be here any moment.” There was a careful knock on the bedchambers door. Dis smirked, “and here they are.”

Bilbo placed a hand over her rampant heart to keep it from bursting from her chest as Dis went over to open the door. Her heart clenched for a moment in terror at the thought of guards marching into the room to seize her and march her to her execution, but the moment she heard the excited squeal of her child, her terror was forgotten and without her knowledge of how, she suddenly had her son in her arms, her face buried into his curls, her nose breathing in his delightful unique scent.

She let out a small startled squeal when she felt arms wrap themselves around both her and Frodo.

“Urgh! Pal, not so hard, you bony lug!” she cried digging her elbows into the bodies currently trapping her and Frodo in a suffocating embrace.

“Ouch!” Pal grumbled pulling back with a mock-hurt expression on his face, “fine greet this is. Insulted and elbowed.” He stuck out his bottom lip, “Bony lug?”

“Oh hush,” Bilbo groaned, smacking his arm lightly “I’m not at my best for witty insults at the moment. Give me another day or two and I’ll back to my usual tongue-lashing self. And you can be the first one to get the taste of it, if you like?”

“Favourite.” Saradoc said to Paladin as he took his turn to hug Bilbo, a feat he managed to accomplish without squashing Frodo’s head into her gut. She heard a snort from behind her two favourite cousins.

“Lotho!” She chirped with a cheeky smile as she peered over Saradoc shoulder to where her sulking cousin stood hesitating in the doorway of her bedchamber, “How nice to see you! Alive and not left in some ditch somewhere out in the wild.” Her cousin gave her withering look, obviously remembering that this was exactly what he said to her upon her return to Bag End, pregnant and in a rather bad temper to find her home being cleared out and her possessions being sold at auction.

“Pity that,” she continued tapping her chin thoughtfully, “I was rather hoping to get my spoons…”

“Billanna.” Her taunts were forgotten immediately upon the entry of her father into her bedchamber, his movements slow but purposeful as he hobbled into the room with the aid of a beautifully crafted walking stick. Bofur and Bifur’s work if she wasn’t mistaken.

“Papa.” She said softly and he smiled at her.

“Bare- barely in tha-tha room a-a minute and you-your already sniping at him.” Her father said as she moved quickly to his side and pulled him into the strongest, gentlest hugs she could manage. She had missed him so much and she had truly feared the worst when she thought upon seeing him again. But he actually looked… healthy, happy even. For an old hobbit who had always been quite set in his ways and felt that adventures were terrible ideas and made you late for your tea, he seemed quite content with his current situation.

He smiled warmly as she hugged him tightly, breathing in deeply his familiar scent.

“I’ll leave you to be with your family.” Dis said with an amused grin as she moved to the door. Bilbo blinked after her for a moment, before swallowing, gathering her courage.

“I’ll – I’m happy to see the company… if they wish to see me that is.” Dis rolled her eyes back at her.

“They’ll be fighting each other to be the first one threw the door.” The dwarrowdam snorted, “but I will inform them that you are ready to see them. In hour or so?”

“Yes,” Bilbo replied, butterflies fluttering around her belly, “yes that sounds lovely. Thank you.” Dis smiled and left the hobbit family in peace, sharing their tales, though Bilbo made a point to keep her tale brief, turning the conversation continuously back upon her cousins and son while her father simply sat contently in the armchair beside her and Frodo, finding happiness in simply having his family back together, even if his daughter did look disturbing like she had when she returned home to Bag End after her last “great” adventure. He was still content to see her happy.

Chapter Text

Nori leant back in his chair as Thorin, Balin and Dwalin chewed over the information that he had given them. Or rather, lack of. Oin was able to tell them a bit more about what had been the cause of death for the dwarf. Nori had only, so far, been able to find out the dwarf’s name and occupation and that really was about it. The dwarf, known as Weasel by those who bothered to know him had been a dwarf of very little consequence, not particularly liked by many but not hated enough to have been killed by poison and subsequently thrown over a cliff into a supposedly abandon mine. He had been a lower level guard, known best for getting into drunken brawls.

And while many would simply put Weasel’s cause of death down to his luck having finally run out during a drunken brawl, Nori would not. Weasel’s death was too well executed to be committed by any drunk. And, as Oin was rumbling at that very moment, there was no alcohol in Weasel’s system, only the poison that Oin had yet to identify.

“Hate these kinds of murders.” Dwalin rumbled when both Oin and Nori had finished their respective reports.

“I hate any kinds of murders.” Thorin replied his face creased with annoyance and worry. He had been quite pleased with the low murder rate Erebor had achieved over the years, and while many may think the murder of a low level guard was not worth their king’s time they were sorely mistaken. Thorin took a personal interest in all murders that occurred beneath his mountain, whatever the victims’ social standing might be; going personally to the families of the victims and making sure those who were responsible for their deaths were held accountable.

It was probably due to this kind of ruling that had caused murder to drop so dramatically within the first couple of years of Erebor’s rebuild. Having your king personally look into a murder case does tend to make those thinking of committing the heinous crime to think a moment or two longer on the actual committing of it.

“Has he any family?” Thorin question Nori who shook his head.

“None who live in the mountain and from what I’ve gather he wasn’t close to any of them.”

“Friends?” Again Nori shook his head.

“A few drinking partners but that’s about it.”

“How bout disgruntled lovers?” Dwalin offered.

“I thought that myself for a time,” Nori sighed, “but after a bit more digging, nothing.”

“So no family, no friends, no lover. He wasn’t hated enough for his death to be planned. And he wasn’t drunk enough for this to be a spontaneous drunken death.” Dwalin growled

“And no spurned lover for this to a passion kill.” Balin added rubbing his forehead wearily.

“So what have we got?” Thorin sighed.

“He wasn’t high enough in any kinds of ranks for him to be killed off due to him being viewed as any kind of threat.” Nori rubbed his beard for a moment before looking at Thorin, “he might be a spy.”

Everyone in Thorin’s study looked at him sharply.

“Spy?” Balin asked carefully, “for who?”

Nori shrugged, forcing his face to remain neutral even though his stomach was turning with irritation. He truly hated being blind to what was going on within his own home. Whoever was behind this, knew how to bloody well cover their tracks. They covered them almost as well as Nori did.

“Why now? Lords have had their spies for years, why kill one now?” Dwalin growled.

“Accident? Betrayal? They learnt something they shouldn’t have or knew too much and were a liability. There are loads of reasons for employers to kill their spies. Don’t get any ideas, by the way” Nori added with cheery grin at Thorin who simply rolled his eyes back at his Spy Master.

“You would know before I did if I ever planned to kill you.” Thorin pointed out causing the younger ginger haired dwarf to grin wider.

“True that.”

“So we have a dead lower level dwarf, who was poison and shoved off a cliff from one abandon mine to another and,” Thorin said trying to bring the conversation back to their immediate problem, “who might also possibly be a spy.” As the spy theory seemed to be the most logical one to go with at this point in their investigation.

Thorin really needed a drink. And he knew he wasn’t the only one either. Despite having a cool, nonchalant exterior, Thorin knew his Spy Master well enough to know that Nori was positively stewing over this case. The dwarf took everything that managed to slip past his nose as a personal failure and insult, refusing to see it as anything else until he had found everything that had managed to slip past him, discovered all it secrets before filling in all the holes it used to sneak pass his sharp eyes and ears with as many rocks as the holes could hold. Possibly even more, if Nori felt the holes still threaten them enough.

Thorin sighed.

“Why now?” the question was asked more towards himself than to the dwarves present and when he thought hard upon it he found he did not at all like the answer he came up with. And apparently it was the same one that Nori had come to too.

“Bilbo.” The thief replied simply, giving a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders even though there was steel behind his usually mellow eyes.

“Ever since her very existence was mention, her role in the quest, you’ve had those who accepted our little burglar and those who have screeched that we should have run her threw after the troll incident.”

“Even so…” Oin started but Nori cut him off.

“Even if she hadn’t stolen the Arkenstone in attempt to keep us safe from either starving to death here or being slaughtered by the elves of Mirkwood and men of Laketown, she did things during the quest that are making some lords very unhappy. One absolutely perfect example is,” He gave Thorin a broad look as he spoke, “her getting pregnant. By our King no less. You’ve got a whole lot of lords muttering about succession, legitimacy and all kinds of bloody crap about Bilbo planning all of this to bring the mountain to its knees. As if our lass would ever do that. The most she’s planned to my knowledge is getting her son back by her side.”

“She’s been here a total of three days. And unconscious more over.”Dwalin rumpled, “they can’t be making that much fuss about her…”

“They are.” Nori snorted, “Dwalin, you need to remember that these lords did not grow up in the times that we did. While we worked our fingers to the bone to make ends meet, these lords were sitting back in their stone halls, watching life roll them by with a smile. Now, now everything changed; there is a King once more on the throne of Erebor, they no longer have the power that they’re used to, or the wealth, or the people. Most of their people have moved to live here. They are unhappy with their loss of power. And to add further insult to injury, their king, who a good deal of them have been shoving their daughters at for the last eleven years, suddenly has a son to his supposedly dead Halfling burglar. All prior rules have been smashed to bits by Mahal’s hammer. At least… that’s how they see it and they are insulted by it. And we all know how we dwarves hold a grudge.”

“There’s a significant different between holding a grudge and committing murder.” Thorin sighed, rubbing his temple.

“But the rumbling have been going on for years,” Dwalin grumbled.

“Aye but now they see an opportunity for the rumblings to become more,” Balin sighed from where he had been standing quietly to the side, reading over reports of the last council meeting, “Bilbo and Frodo.”

“The chink in the armour.” Thorin sighed before frowning, “How did he know?”

“Who?”

“Bovin.” Thorin growled.

“He mightn’t.” Nori replied reasonably, “it’s a common phrase and he was referring to Bozg, not to the idiotic lords in here.”

“No,” Thorin growled, “he said that she was the chink in my armour. That she was going to my down fall.”

“Thorin,” Nori said calmly beating Balin to the punch of trying to calm their angering king down, “I know you want to heap as much as you can upon Bovin for his trial so the bastard will suffer for all the misery he’s caused, but I do think you stretching it a bit with this.”

“More than a bit.” Balin cutting in, “Thorin, if I am understanding you correctly, you’re saying that someone, within this mountain, is working with Bovin to bring down the line the Durin.”

“Which technically he is,” Dwalin pointed out, “the bastard is working with Bozg, remember.”

“Aye, but just because one dwarf has lowered himself to work with an Orc does not…” Balin protested.

“What about a dwarf lord lowering himself to work with a dwarf working with an orc…” Dwalin rumbled back.

“That’s possible.” Nori relented, his spy master mind already running through lists of possible candidates for which lord could be working with Bovin and by proxy Bozg.

Balin groaned.

“If we start thinking like this,” he sighed, “we’ll end up trusting no one.”

“I don’t.” Nori offered, “I don’t trust a soul outside the company.”

“I don’t like this either Balin but…”

“Thorin,” Balin cut in, “these rumbling have been happening for years. Aye, I agree with Nori that the rumbles have most definitely increased with our lass’s return and Frodo’s existence being revealed, but I can’t accept that our problems within this mountain are connected with the ones with Bozg.”

“Except that they are. Bilbo is the connection.” Nori pointed out helpfully. Balin shot him a thoroughly exasperated look before turning back to Thorin.

“Thorin, all I’m saying is, that until we have further proof that there is more of a connection then Bilbo and Frodo, I advise we look at them separately. Hopefully, the problem with the lords, the rumbling will become once more rumbling once we have Bilbo’s banishment rescinded and have her fully accepted as an honoured member of the company.”

Thorin scrubbed his face.

“Not going well, I take it?” Oin questioned with a grunt.

Balin winced.

“No,” he admitted, “as like the numerous times before, when we’ve tried to have Bilbo’s banishment rescinded and for her to no longer be labelled as a traitor we are met with… walls. Many, many stone walls. More now than ever before now. I do belief though that I may have found a way for Bilbo herself to convince the council but…” Balin looked at Thorin who was silently fuming.

“But?” Nori asked.

“No,” Thorin growled, refusing to consider that option, “I am the one who caused this; I am the one who will fix this.” He shook his head in quiet fury, “they follow the orders of a mad king without blinking an eye but the moment the sane king tries to rescinded that order, they start protesting.”

“Easier for things to be broken then they are to be mended.” Balin replied gently. “Amendments are being made now. The best we can do is to get them done as quickly and as smoothly as possible. Maybe we will be able to convince the council of lifting the label without Bilbo having to stand any trial.”

Thorin snorted under his breath, trying to force down the guilt burning within his chest. This was all his fault, his mess and every turn he took to try and rectify it he was met with another stone walls. It was maddening! And he absolutely refused to allow Billanna to go on trial for something that had, for better or worse, saved the very hide of his and his company’s back. They would find another way to rescind her label of traitor without her having to take any part in the process. He refused to cause her any more grief over this matter.

He opened his mouth to say more on the matter when his door was thrown open in the unceremonious manner that only his youngest nephew could manage. The oak door smashed into the wall of his study with a cringe worthy crack, bouncing off of it again and was only stopped from knocking his nephew flat on his back was by his eldest nephew catching it mere centimetres from Kili’s face. His youngest nephew didn’t even blink simply continuing his troll-like stride in his Uncle’s study, his eyes bright and face twisted into the widest grin that it could manage beneath the scars that covered it.

“KILI!” the dark hair lad ignored all reprimes as he bounced eagerly towards his uncle.

“She’s awake.”

Thorin half rose out his chair before thinking better on it and sank back down.

“She awake. Properly this time. Apparently she was awake before but Amad didn’t tell anyone so that Bilbo could rest, but she’s properly awake now and…” Thorin allowed for his nephews excited ramblings to roll over him as once again his brain decided to desert him and his heart threaten to burst from his chest. He could vaguely hear Oin rumbling that he should have been informed the moment she regained consciousness the first time not when she was happily up and about, being visited by her family.

He swallowed thickly and mentally watched as all his carefully thought out plans as to how he would approach and behaviour around the Halfling woman fled from his head, not even a stitch of strategy remained. He was at a complete lost as to what he should do and how he should be when it came to seeing Billanna again, this time awake and alert and most likely ready to rip him to pierces over his treatment of her years ago. It was no more than he deserved of course, but even so, he was terrified.

He had spent almost eleven years hating himself over what was said, what was done but to have all that hate thrown back at him by her, to have her look at him with the same amount of fury and loathing that he, himself, had directed towards Azog, Thanduril and… and finally her.

He was a coward. It made him sick realizing just how much of coward he was in regards to Billanna and their situation. He wanted to deal with it, to clean the mess that lay between them, to be the father to their son that he wished to be but that meant taking that initial step and that… that was an absolutely terrifying prospect. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to face Billanna, to face her righteous rage and accusations. For her to demand that he allow for her and their child to leave, threatening to cut him completely out of Frodo’s life due to what had passed in these last few months.

Or, and this to him was an even worse prospect than if she hated him to very last hair on his head – in fact he might even prefer her hating him – was the very real possibility that she was scared of him. Nori had hinted as much, that she was scared, that he would need to be careful with her so as to not frighten her further.

She had every right to be scared of him, to hate and fear him. He had after all, even though he doesn’t truly remember exactly what happen and his company were on most days, less than forth coming about the events that had torn them so horrifically apart – even Bofur who had been one of the most vocal in his fury over what had transpired between Thorin and their burglar had never gone into full-details as to what exactly had happened once Thorin had regains control over his mind – but he knew enough to know that he had threatened her and if there had not been any love for her still burning within his heart even in his darkest moments he probably would have killed her. Her and their child. Now that was terrifying thought. Had she feared that too when she thought back on her banishment?

How could he have ever have fooled himself into believing that he might be forgiven for his sins against her and their child?

“Uncle?”

“Go,” he forced himself to smile at his youngest nephew, still rocking eagerly back and forth on his heels “Go and see her.”

“But…” Kili’s voice trailed off as his face turned into a frown. He wasn’t the only one frowning either. All his companions seemed to have heard the words that he had not spoken.

“I will see her at a later date,” he relented before he had them all jumping down his throat for one reason or another, “let us not overwhelm her.”

His youngest nephew looked set to argue but was quickly steered out of Thorin’s study by Fili who was whispering urgently into his ear.

“You will need to face her eventually Thorin,” Balin muttered softly once the others had left the room, leaving only himself, Balin and Dwalin remaining.

“I will,” he grunted unconvincingly. He sighed when he felt Fudin sons’ glare at him, “If she wishes to see me, then I will go to her, otherwise…”

“Thorin.” Dwalin started but was stopped when Thorin shot him a desperate look.

“Have I not put her through enough? Have I not made her suffer enough? I will not force her to endure anymore pain by my visiting her unwantedly. If she wishes to see me, then I will gladly go and face her judgement. But until then, I will not impose my presence upon her.”

“I don’t know if your being a good man or a spineless coward.” Dwalin grunted.

“Both.” Balin answered for him while giving Thorin a thoroughly exasperated look before nodding his acceptance of Thorin’s plan.

“Craven.” Dwalin rumbled with a shake of his head but the two let the matter lie for the time being at least.

“Go, both of you. I know that you wish to see her also.” Thorin waved his two oldest friends’ way.

“Thorin…”

“I mean it. I will be fine. I won’t even refill my cup, I swear.” Thorin was feeling exasperated himself by his friend’s nervous mother hen attitudes towards him. “Go.”

With final looks that were clearly questioning his sanity, the brothers left him to his thoughts. Thorin tried to drown himself with his work but lasted around ten or so minutes before the suffocation of his thoughts grew too much and he needed to physically work out his frustration and anger.

He arrived, unhindered, to his personal forge, hoping that by spending some mindless hours beating steel his courage would return to him.

Chapter Text

Bilbo felt a strong sense of completion as she sat with her family by the fire, her son curled up in her lap while her cousins spoke about all that had happened to them since they were separated all those weeks ago.

She snorted over her cousins recollections in regards to some of the events that had supposedly occurred since she had last seen them.

"And what about you, my heart? What mischief have you been up to?" She asked as she lightly played with her son's curls. She looked over her son's head to her cousins and father, all of whom looked more than a little sheepish.

"Um…"

They were all saved from answering by a series of knocks on her chamber's door.

"Saved by the knock." Bilbo snorted as Paladin hurried up to answer the door.

Her smile however faded and her heart gave an unsteady beat as Kili came bounding into the room followed in quick succession by Bofur, Bifur and Ori and just a little behind them stood the rest of her dwarves, standing in the door way of her chambers, all of whom looked more than a tad cautious and anxious as they peered around each other into her room and more directly at her.

Her heart seized for moment as she waited for him to appear before relaxing when he did not. She was surprised by just how disappointed she was by his lack of appearance. But she pushed her feelings in regards to him to a dark little corner of her mind (and heart) and instead tried to focus all her remaining emotions on the dwarves slowly milling into her chambers.

She swallowed nervously as she rose slowly to her feet, Frodo still clutched closely to her side.

"Hello." She greeted them all softly taking a small step towards them before she was, quite unexpectedly surrounded by a mass of arms.

"Can't breathe." She squeaked as she managed to squirm her way out of a particularly throttling embrace from Bifur who looked shockingly near to tears, the dear fellow. It took a little convincing to get him to lessen his death hug but once he was certain she wasn't about to do a runner, he was quite happy to relax his embrace.

The moment Bifur released her she was quickly swept up into another pair of strong arms and being lifted nearly clean off her feet. Her eyes felt a little moist as she hugged the dwarf back, whispering that she was alright over and over again in his ear, hoping that with enough reassurance the dear man would stop trembling.

"Ya sure ya alright lass?" Dear Bofur asked once he pulled away and looked down at her with his beautiful brown eyes, filled to the brim with such concern they completely lack all their usual spark. She gave him a small smile and without thinking twice about what was proper etiquette, knocked her forehead against his.

"I'm fine, truly." She smiled as reassuringly as she could muster before she looked shyly at the rest of the dwarves. She was glad Bofur had taken to standing just behind her, offering her quiet comfort and reassurance.

Kili moved forward next, arms open his eyes bright and face grinning. She let out a small squeal of surprise when he lifted her clean off her feet, her squeals quickly turning into giggles.

"Silly lad." She said affectionately, ruffling his dark braided locks fondly.

She hugged both Ori and Nori next before standing nervously with her five dwarves who had known she was alive and well, staring back at the dwarves who had thought her to be dead; who had might even been glad to think she was dead after her betrayal.

So truly, in all honesty, nothing could be said in regards to her surprise when she was hugged by each one of her dwarves, some longer than others; Gloin embraced her for almost five minutes without speaking a word before saying in very low, gruff voice that he was very glad that she was alive and well. She had of course become quite flustered by all the unexpected affection she was receiving by this point that she could barely squeak 'me too' before she was being swept into Dori's arms, with the dwarf immediately beginning to fuss and mother-hen over her.

Somewhere behind her she could swear she could hear her cousins giggling at her expense. She was certain that they were most definitely giggling at her expense when she was all but tackled by Bombur, who hugged her so fiercely that he had to be pried off so that she could have a chance to breath. He had apologize profoundly afterwards to which she waved him off, laughing breathlessly, clutching her sides.

Her nerves, however, returned with force when she came face to face with Fili, Dwalin and Balin once more. However, like with the others, she needed have worried herself so.

Balin embraced her with a wide, fatherly smile, speaking in a low voice that he was so very, very pleased that she was well and whole, safely back with them. He also whispered in her ear so that the others would not hear to not worry herself, everything was being worked out. He ended their embrace before she could question him on what he meant by that, simply giving her one of his knowing winks (which she swore he had learnt from Gandalf!) before he stepped away to greet her son and question him about a book that he had been given to read. She was pleased by just how eagerly Frodo answered him.

Dwalin stepped forward then, distracting her from listening further to her son's and Balin's conversation, taking his brother's place in front of her. He did not speak a word, nor did he embrace her and for a long moment she was frighten. She was just working herself into a right fit when he took another step towards her and knocked his forehead against her own, which in the end meant more to her than any word or embrace from him ever could.

She swallowed unsteadily, still not quite over the almost fit Dwalin had caused her, as she stared at the last remaining dwarf in the room whom had not yet stepped forward to greet and forgive her and in all honesty his forgiveness was almost as high up on her priorities list as Balin and Dwalin. Though not quite as high as a certain dwarf king.

She stared uncertainly at Thorin's golden heir, who appeared to be in a state of being torn between a rock and a hard place. The poor lad, she had no wish to cause the him so much distress. Not this lad, who was so loyal, so brave, ever trying to be the peace-maker between his younger brother and his kingly uncle; who only ever wanted to keep his little brother safe and happy while at the same time always seeking the approval of his uncle.

She had heard from Bofur that the Battle of the Five Armies had not left Thorin's golden heir as relatively unscathed as Kili, who had escaped the battle many broken bones and a few scars. How anyone could think that having nearly every bone in one's body broken as being relatively unscathed was beyond Bilbo and only filled her with terror at thought of how badly hurt this golden lad had been. Especially when Bofur refused to go into any more details about the lad's injuries. And maybe that was for the best for looking at the lad now, even after eleven years of peace and healing, Bilbo could clearly see the ugly scars that decorated one side of the lad's face and down his next from where he had been hit in the face with an orc's mace in his desperate fight to get to his uncle's and brother's side.

And from what little Bofur had told her of the lad's injuries, the scars on his face were nowhere near the end of his injuries, that many deep and disfiguring wounds lay hidden beneath his clothes. She knew it was truly ridiculous of her to be far more heartbroken over the scars she saw on this young dwarf's face than she was over the scars she saw inflicted on her other dwarves. But there was just something truly heartbreaking about seeing a young face, still bearing the hints of tweenhood being scarred almost beyond recognize. This lad, his little brother and dear, sweet Ori were still just boys and boys had no place on battlefields. And so every time she looked at them, her heart broke a little more, for the loose of innocence's, for the loose of joyful, carefree youth.

How could he not hate her?

She swallowed again thickly as the golden haired lad walked slowly over to her his head held high and looking every bit of the King's heir that he was. Despite herself she felt a proud little smile pulling at her lips as she stared up at him… he would be a great king one day. Thorin must be so, so proud.

"Hello Fili." She spoke softly as she stared up into the golden prince's face, his dark haired little brother hovering anxiously by her side, offering her silent comfort while he stared at his older brother, silently demanding for his brother to accept her back into their family folds. Side by side, they watched as Fili swallowed nervously.

"Hello Miss Boggins." He finally said, a small smile cracking across his face. Bilbo let out a tiny gush of air, relief filling her body. She never would admit it out loud but for a moment her heart had stopped beating completely at the very thought that the golden haired prince might just not be able to forgive her for her past betrayal. Now, all she do was smile widely as she wrapped her arms around the prince's neck and hug him close, feeling only delight when he hugged her back just as closely.

"That's Mistress Boggins to you two." She retorted once she done hugging both boys, laughing when they gave her almost identical grins, grins she had not seen in far too long.

So maybe not all innocence was lost on that horrid day? Maybe the boys had not lost all their cheer and mischief that they had been so well known for during their quest. Maybe there was still hope for them all.

"Well, I think this just about calls for a party." Nori said from where he was leaning easily by the armchair that stood by her fireplace, one hand ruffling Frodo's thick black curls.

Bilbo rolled her eyes at the thief to which he simply grinned even more widely in return. Of course he would remember their conversation from their travels to the mountain. And of course he would refuse to allow her to wiggle her way out of it.

She shook her head at the cheers that both her dwarves and hobbits let out. Her father laughed softly from his chair by the fire while Lotho looked seemly exasperated, but she ignored him. He was so easy to ignore when her room was filled with cheering dwarves (who did not hate her it would seem, a great weight off one's mind truly) and hobbits, her son bouncing now excitedly by her side.

"Yes, yes fine." She called over the noise, giggling over the excitement that both the dwarves and hobbits were exhibiting.

She quickly found herself to be quite delighted by how easily her dwarves got on with her family. Yes, Lotho was still he's usual surly, unapproachable self but her dwarves treated him in the same teasing manner as she and her cousins treated him. Paladin and Saradoc appeared to get on well with all her dwarves. She had suspected that they would become quick friends with Kili, Fili, Ori, Nori, Bofur, Bifur and Bombur but they seemed to have even created a unique friendships with particular dwarves such as Dwalin, Dori and Gloin which she had not expected at all.

And Frodo. Frodo appeared to be adored and treasured by all. Any dwarf he desired the attention of would immediately halt his conversation or whatever he was doing to see to the little boy's need.

She sat curled up by her father's chair, nibbling on the food that Kili, Ori, Nori and Bofur had brought up to her chambers. It was quite a grand feast and even though she still found herself cringing over her dwarves eating habits, she couldn't find it in her heart to scold them for teaching her son bad habits. All she could do was laugh and smile, her heart feeling lighter than it had done so in well, an age. Except… he wasn't here.

She hadn't realised just how much his absences would hurt her when she met with her other dwarves. Did this mean, by his absences, that he had not forgiven her? But if that were the case, then he would never have allowed for her dwarves to see her, for them to throw her a party of sorts.

"He did not wish to overwhelm you." Dwalin said unexpectedly from where he now stood by her side. She jumped a little; she had not seen or heard him come to stand by her.

"Pardon?"

"Thorin. He did not wish to overwhelm you. He thought that his presence might be a tad too much for you to take, so for now he's keeping his distance. Unless you wish to see him, then he will come."

Well that was… unexpected of him.

"That was…" Bilbo floundered for the appropriate word, "generous of him… after everything."

The big dwarf snorted before taking a long drink from his pint

"Nah… he's just being a coward, that's all." Bilbo gawked at him in disbelief. Thorin might have been many things but a coward, was most definitely not one of them.

"Don't believe me, huh lass?" Dwalin chuckled while she shook her head, causing her braids to swish around her head.

"Well," he continued with another chuckle, "it' the truth. In all his years, you are the only creature to ever make a coward out of him. Think on that lassie." He added seriously before he gently knocked his knuckles against the top of her head.

Think on that, she would indeed.

The party went on well into the night… or was it morning? Bilbo had no idea of how to keep track of time in the mountain. She would have to ask for a clock to be brought to her chambers and then… well, she had a fifty-fifty chance of guessing on whether it was day or night.

The party most likely would have continued well onto the morning or late evening if not for Frodo, overcome with tiredness, slumped over the small coffee table, knocked several cups and empty dishes to the floor. When the lad didn't stir from the noise the decision was quickly made to call the party to a close and begin the sad task of cleaning up.

Bilbo tucked her son into her bed, smiling as he immediately snuggled down under the covers, his thumb working its way close to the corner of his mouth but not quite entering, coming to rest upon his lower lip.

"He's a good lad." Dwalin compliment her in an off-hand, gruff manner.

"Uh huh." Bilbo raised her eyebrows and set her hands on her hips, "and do you think that because he's a polite, respectful little boy who always does what he's told or because he's gotten into a fight with someone?" she gestured to the bruises on her son's face and his broken nose.

Dwalin shot her an amused grin which caused her to simply roll her eyes at the obvious answer.

"Can I ask why and how he got into a fight with someone here?" She grouched out.

"He was playing with my sons." Bombur started sheepishly, "and they ran into a group of other dwarflings." The large dwarf gave a heavy shrug of his thick-set shoulders.

Bilbo sighed heavily.

"If it makes ya feel any better," Dwalin sniggered, "ya lad won."

Bilbo clapped her hands over her face, groaning.

"Of course he did."

Her dwarves and family chuckled over her reaction before returning to the task of cleaning up. Far too soon it was time to say goodbye though each dwarf gave her the promise of seeing her soon, some sooner than others, Oin rumbled something about giving her a full check-up the following day as no one saw fit to inform him of her awakening until earlier that day. Her family gave her warm hugs, promising that they were just down the corridor if she needed them.

And then suddenly she was alone, her son sleeping soundly in her bed.

She wrapped her arms around herself, in attempt to keep the warmth of her dwarves forgiveness and acceptance within her heart but already she could feel the warmth start to slip away and the darkness once more starting to set root.

What if it had all been just an act? What if they hadn't truly forgiven her and were only pretending to have for the sake of the child sleeping in her bed. The child whom they must all know by now to be the child of their king!

Her arms tighten around her body as she fought back against the darkness that spoke with a voice so like Smaug that it made her shudder and sent a wave of nausea threw her.

Stop this, she ordered forcing herself to calm down. You know better than this. You know that if it were all just an act Bofur, Kili, Ori, Bifur and even Nori would not allow for any of them to be near you. If it were all but an act you would not feel such warmth in your heart, such love. Be still now darkness, you have no place here.

And for the moment the darkness seemed to leave her, to halt in its attack against the warmth within her, now settling comfortably around her heart and filling her up right down to her toes.

She knew that the darkness would return… it always did but with some luck she would have enough of the warmth within her to combat it. And maybe, someday, she would be able to defeat it.

She rubbed her chest as she moved over to the chest of drawers, pulling out a nightgown for her to sleep in. Her dress was not an easy thing to get out of but after so many years of putting on and taking off frocks with many buttons and layers all by herself, it took her only a few moments more than normal to be free of the lovely green gown, which she hung up once more in the closet, surprised by just how many lovely gowns hung within.

Her fingers lightly danced over a beautiful rich sapphire blue gown, so exquisite in beauty that she was certain that it could never be considered as anything other than a gown for the most special of occasions.

Surely it was not here for her. Or any of these gowns in fact, all of which were far too grand for one such as her. But still… she couldn't help but give the blue gown a wistful look before closing the closet once more.

She pulled her hair free of the braids that Dis had so paid-stacking put in before running her fingers through the wavy locks. She braid her curls into a simple plaint down her back, enjoying the reassuring weight of it against her spine before she crawled up into bed beside her son, smiling softly as he immediately rolled over and curled into her side.

She wrapped an arm around him, kissing his forehead gently.

"Sleep well my heart." She whispered before she allowed sleep to take her.

Chapter Text

Bilbo was not sure what it was that stirred her from her slumber. Not a nightmare for once. In fact she couldn't even recall a single dream she had dreamt during her sleep. This was a most uncommon occurrence for her. Usually she could remember her dreams in near perfect detail.

And it was for this reason that made Bilbo truly question if she was indeed even awake. It would not be the first time that her dreams took on the appearance of feeling so real and life-like she actually believed that she was indeed awake. This generally led to her sleepwalking and waking up in odd places, like her pantry or out under the party tree.

She sat up and swung her legs out of the bed as quietly as she could, for even in her dream she was conscious not to wake her son, even her imagination's son. She was dreaming of a room within the Lonely Mountain, of that she was certain, even though it was a room she had never seen before during her extremely short stay within the mountain before everything turned disastrous.

She winced at the memory before shaking herself. No, she would not dream of any of that tonight, no tonight she would dream only of the mountain. She was curious to see just how much of the mountain she could remember in her dream.

With a dressing gown wrapped tightly around her, even in her dreams she made a point of keeping warm and even if she did run into someone else in her dreams, she would at least be decent. Her ring sat upon her finger; she couldn't remember when in her dream she had put it on but there it was, nonetheless.

She set out without much purpose in mind except to explore her dream Lonely Mountain. It was much busier than she usually dreamed it to be, more dwarves walking around, dwarves she did not know but she paid them little heed and they paid her none at all and they all went about their way. She wandered aimlessly in her dream, humming snippets of her own tunes, at times finding herself quietly amused when a dwarf guard looked about him in confusion as she walked by.

Her feet took her down many corridors, most she didn't recognised and yet at the same time she knew immediately where her feet were taking her.

She ran her hand lightly against the stone walls of the corridors as she walked, her feet never faltering for a moment. Her lips twitch just slightly as she finally came across one of the many entrances to Smaug's bedroom, empty now of all its golden glory.

She sat down heavily upon the steps leading down to the depths of the massive cavern, her eyes unable to see the walls or carved stone ceiling above, the darkness too great it was almost oppressive.

She wrinkled her nose as she picked up the slightest hint of dragon on the air. The air was no longer as foul as it had been the first time she had stood in this room, searching for that accursed stone but still the stale air held the scent of dragon and Bilbo predicted would do so for many decades to come.

Did the gold, she wondered, and the jewels and other treasures that had been horde in this miserable place reek of dragon too? Or had they, upon their removal from the hall, lost the smell of dragon unlike the stone walls around her.

This was truly a strange dream. She had dreamt of Smaug's bedroom many, many times before and always the giant worm was present, along with the golden horde.

She swallowed thickly as her eyes instinctively hunted for the earth-bound star in the dark space around her, her eyes searching for the light of the stone of like which had not been seen in the world for millenniums.

As she searched her hands curled loosely in her lap, remembering the weight, the beauty of trapped starlight, the warmth. But her hands quickly became fists, as the memory became tarnished by fear, regret and hatred.

What was the point of such beauty when all it caused was grief and war? Nothing. Such beauty was never meant for this world, only the Valar could truly appreciate it and even they, they had fought over such beauties, oh so very long ago.

She shook herself, wondering how much longer it would take for her to wake and to find herself in some peculiar place due to her wandering, sleeping feet.

She sat there on the stone step, twisting her funny magic ring on and off her finger, her mind wandering over times long past. It was strange now, remembering a time when she did not have Frodo in her life, as he was such a centre point of her everyday existence.

She started to contemplate pinching herself – this dream truly had gone on long enough and she was starting to fear what nightmare might be sneaking around in the darkness when she heard movement behind her, the quiet noise of someone awkwardly shifting their weight from one foot to the other. Not the most frightening noise in all the world, not by far. She didn't even bother looking around behind her, for somehow, in the very depths of her heart she knew who it was.

"I know you're there." She said once it became clear that he wasn't going to announce his presences. "You might as well come out."

She could almost sense his hesitation but after a moment she heard footsteps moving slowly behind her.

"Hello Thorin." She said when she felt warm presences against her back.

"What are you doing here?" Thorin asked softly, his voice filled with such emotions that he could barely mask them behind his usual calm, stiff tone.

"Hmmm," she looked around the darkness, tucking her chin into her hand, "I was dreaming and here I ended up. It has been a very odd dream. Boring even… well, until now."

"You think this is a dream?" he sounded amused now, like he was fighting back a chuckle while at the same time there was a note of apprehensive behind his words.

She cocked her head to the side, still not looking behind her, at him. If she did look around, would he even be there? Or would he disappear? Or would he become the Thorin who haunted her dreams for the last eleven years? No, it was better not to risk it.

"I don't know," she admitted with a shrug and truthfully she didn't care, not at that moment. "It's not a bad dream though."

"It is not?" Thorin asked in a tone he was clearly forcing to keep light.

Building up her courage, she finally forced herself to look behind her, up at Thorin, his body outlined by the torch light from the corridor outside the entrance to Smaug's bedroom.

"No." She smiled slowly before looking back around at Smaug's bedroom.

"It looks so different." She commented softly. "You would never think this was once Smaug's bedroom."

"Amazing what removing all the gold and treasure can do to a room." Thorin's reply caused Bilbo to snort, amused by his attempt at humour. She had quite forgotten that Thorin did have some sense of humour; he just wasn't particularly talented at making jokes.

They fell quiet for a time, though it was not uncomfortable, it was almost companionable. Bilbo heard Thorin mutter something under his breath.

"Pardon?"

She heard him chuckle.

"I said, 'like mother, like son'."

She looked back at him again, less afraid of what she might find this time, her eyes questioning. Thorin met her gaze with surprisingly soft eyes.

"I am guessing Frodo hasn't told you all of his adventures?" Her heart gave a tiny unsteady thump at the way Thorin spoke Frodo's name, amusement intertwined with fondness.

"No, not all of them as of yet. Why?"

"Wandering feet, our son has." Bilbo waited for the stab of pain to shoot through her chest at Thorin's calm acceptance of their son, his almost careless mention of their relationship, but it never came. Only warmth filled her chest.

"That he does." Bilbo said softly, "so… you know then?" she couldn't help stammering as she spoke, "That Frodo is yours… you accept that?"

"Of course. Without a doubt."

Bilbo smiled widely then, her heart warm and light, a great weight lifted from it. Of course he did. How could she ever have thought that Thorin would not accept Frodo?

"Does he know? Frodo?"

"Yes. He figured it out." Thorin admitted with fond exasperation.

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head.

"Of course he did."

"He was very… accepting." Thorin continued slowly. "is very accepting of it all. I feared that he might… that it might be all too much for him – he is so young after all – that he might become overwhelmed, but he has accepted everything that has happened to him while he's been here with a smile and with maturity far beyond his years."

"He's an old soul." Bilbo replied with a small smile. A strange look flickered across Thorin's face before he looked away from her, staring into the darkness of the vast chamber.

"You have no idea." He muttered, causing Bilbo to frown.

"How do you mean?" She asked but Thorin simply shook his head.

"He is an old soul," Thorin agreed instead, not quite meeting her eyes causing her to huff with irritation.

"He is smart," Thorin continued ignoring her irritation, "so very smart. And cheeky."

Bilbo felt some her irritation slide as a groan slipped pass her lips.

"Oh no" she sighed, her tone full of unconditional motherly love, "What has he said? What has he done?"

"He has said and done many things. He has inherited your talent for trouble. Or rather finding it, maybe?"

She gave another huff.

"I never went looking for trouble;" she replied primly, "trouble just appears to have a knack of finding me. Unlike you, I never went charging head first into a situation that looked like, right from the beginning that it was going to end badly. I pray he hasn't inherited that trait from you."

"Is that the only trait you hope he hasn't inherited from me?" he asked his tone quiet, almost bleak.

She sighed.

"Thorin…"

"Speak the truth, you have every right to." He said softly.

"There are many traits that you have that I hope he has and will inherit. Many. But yes, there are some, and they are few, mind you, that I hope he hasn't. But if he has inherited them, well…" she stared down at her hands, her heart aching, "well, we'll figure it out. You have recovered, and I'm sure if the situation arose, so would he."

"The situation will never arise." Thorin muttered furiously, his body stiff and defensive.

"You can't promise that," Bilbo whispered, "but we can hope and if we must, we can prepare. But I pray that you are right, all the same." It would be nice, not to go through that horror again, she thought mournfully to herself.

She could hear Thorin shifting awkwardly from foot to foot again, could almost taste his worry and discomfort.

"What is it?" She asked as she looked up from her hands and back at him.

He sighed softly, a sad chuckle escaping his lips.

"I must admit," he spoke slowly, his tone laced with regret, "I am waiting for the screaming, for the rage and hate. You have every right to hate me; what I have done in the past is inexcusable and I will not ask for your forgiveness for I have no right to ask anything of you. I…" he trailed off with a small groan of frustration while she simply stared up at him, her mouth hanging soundlessly open.

"This…" he growl, "is not coming out how I hoped. The words, they were there and now…"

"They've gotten lost?"

He gave her a very dry look, running hand over his short beard. She had just noticed in the torch light that his beard was as short as it had been during their quest. This caused her a jolt of surprise. She had thought, once he had reclaimed his thrown he would grow out his beard to be a long and as magnificent as his forefathers. But he had not… why?

She wanted to ask him but maybe now was not the right time, not with him struggling over words she had never expected him to say. Maybe this truly was just a very odd but life-like dream. How else could she explain the dwarf before her and his odd behaviour? Thorin… apologizing? To her, of all people?

"Thorin…"

"I'm sorry…" She gawked at him, gawked at how awkward and yet completely sincere he sounded, "I'm sorry for everything. I'm not asking for your forgiveness but I do wish you to know that I am truly sorry, for everything and while I know that no matter how many times I apologize to you and how sincere I am, I know that it will never be enough. Nothing I do or say will ever be enough or make up for the grievances I have caused you, but I…"

"Thorin," She couldn't help but start giggling, "Its fine… I forgive you." She couldn't believe what she was hearing! Him… apologizing to her? She was almost giddy with joy.

Thorin snorted.

"You're tired." Thorin grunted, "Doesn't count when you're tired. You're hardly coherent. You even said yourself that you believe that this is all but a dream."

Bilbo gapped at him.

"Dream or not…" She started but he waved her off.

"When you are fully awake, coherent and not believing for a single moment that our conversation is taking place in a dream, then you can tell me that you forgive me. Until then, as much as I would like to, I can not believe that you truly do forgive me. You shouldn't, really."

Bilbo rose to her feet, her arms crossed against her chest, her eyes narrowed.

"Shouldn't whether or not I forgive you be up to me? Solely me?"

"Of course." Thorin agreed calmly, "But it is late and you are tired. You are most likely not thinking straight. Do you still believe you're dreaming?"

Bilbo went to snap at him that no, she did indeed believe that she was awake and not dreaming except… hadn't there been moments during this whole conversation that she had thought that this was such a nice dream, such a change from Thorin snarling out his rage and accusations at her.

She closed her mouth and pinched her arm, wincing at the pain that went up it but no, she didn't wake up; Thorin still stood there in front of her his dark eyes watching her rub her arm where she had pinched it.

"I still forgive you," She grouched before her heart started to pound, "but that's really not what's important here." Suddenly all of her anxiety and desperation rose to the surface, almost crushing her beneath its weight.

"No?" he sounded genuinely confused.

"Of course not!" She cried, "What does it matter if I forgive you? That's not what's important! Never was. What's important here, is you? If you forgive me! You banished me! For betraying the company, for stealing the Arkenstone! And Frodo? What about him?" she was close to hysterics now, her whole body shaking as her mind filled with all the panic and terror that had built up inside of her all these years so that she could barely see straight, all the things she feared for the last eleven years came crashing down upon her head.

She was so sick with sheer terror and anxiety that her head swam and she was certain she was going to faint if Thorin hadn't grabbed her forced her to sit down upon the step once more, anchoring her to the present.

She didn't understand what he was saying to her, only that he spoke with a soothing voice that helped her focus upon her erratic breathing, to force her heart rate to return to a more reasonable pace and for the blood to stop pounding in her ears.

She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes, which had grown wet, with the back of her hand. It had been such a long time since her last panic attacked and now she had gone and had one right in front of Thorin Oakenshield, of all people.

"Sorry." She muttered not looking up as she continued to scrub at her face.

"Why?" Thorin asked his tone questioning, but it was gentle questioning. She snuck a look up at his face and even in the dim light from the torches glowing from the corridor she could see that he wasn't judging her or looking at her as if she were a burden or weak.

She looked away and simply shook her head.

"Billanna…" she looked up at him, her heart in her throat. How long had it been since she had heard him say her name, in that voice? "You have no need to ask for forgiveness… for anything."

"But…"

"No." His voice was firm but not cruel, "You have no need to apologize for anything."

She stared up at him in disbelief.

"You can't truly believe that!" She cried, "After what I did! I betrayed you! I stole the Arkenstone!"

"To save our lives!" Thorin cut in quickly, his tone demanding for her to listen and not to argue with him, "everything that I saw at that time as a betrayal from you was you trying, as you had done so many times before, to save us. I was so blind with the gold sickness that I saw nothing else but betrayal, I saw nothing of your true motive, your love, your desire to protect and save us. I was blind and I am sorry."

Bilbo gapped at him.

"And… and Frodo?"

Thorin sighed.

"Another matter entirely but again, you have nothing to apologize for in regards to our child. You have kept him safe, you have loved him. At that time I was a danger to both of you. You did what was best for our child, even before you knew of his existence."

She pressed her hands to her eyes, feeling tears filling her eyes.

"Come," Thorin said gently, taking hold of her arm, his fingers careful and light upon her forearm, ready to release her the moment she gave any hint of discomfort, and helped her stand, "you are tired. And it is far too late for this conversation."

"You're only saying that because I'm getting teary." She grumbled though she was feeling truly exhausted, physically and mentally.

"Yes," Thorin agreed, "I've never had any talent for comforting someone who is crying. But it truly is late, and I would rather have this conversation with you when you are fully awake and not thinking that this is some bizarre dream. Your dreams are truly so life-like?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll definitely be finishing this conversation when you are fully awake. I want you to be fully aware of everything that you say to me so there is no chance of misunderstanding or you saying something you do not mean."

She opened her mouth to protest but was stopped by Thorin shaking his head.

"I do not say this to offend you but rather I am saying these things on your behalf. You have spent much of this conversation still believing you were in some kind of dream and it would not be fair of me to hold you to anything you have said just now. And I am not going to. Everything that you have said in regards to your forgiveness towards me and the grievances I have committed against you I will take with a grain of salt." Bilbo once more opened her mouth to argue but was once again cut off by Thorin, "because you are tired and not thinking straight."

"I know that I am not dreaming!" Bilbo grumbled furiously.

"Now you do." Thorin agreed, "But before…" he shook his head. "Come; let us return you to your chambers. You're still recovering from your ordeal."

She sighed softly but nodded.

"Fine." She grumbled.

"We will finish this conversation, Billanna." Thorin reassured her as they started slowly up the corridor.

"I'm not worried about that." Bilbo sighed, "I'm bothered that you don't believe me. I maybe tired and thought that I was dreaming, but I meant what I said."

Thorin shook his head, his face twisting unhappily.

"You really don't believe me?" she gawked.

"Just as you do not believe me." He pointed out and they stared at each other.

"That's…"

"It's the same." Thorin rumbled, "Only, you have every right not to forgive me."

She gave a huff.

"Keep this up and I might start thinking you don't want me to forgive you."

She watched his face closely but his face was carefully closed off and he refused to meet her eyes.

"Impossible dwarf!" She grumbled, "Fine… be like that." They walked on in silence, slightly more awkward than previously but still companionable.

"How did you know? Where I was? How did you know?" She asked as they moved through deserted corridors; she was fairly certain that these were not the corridors she had come down originally.

"Hmmm? Oh, I heard your humming. Your 'Man in the Moon' tune is very recognizable."

Bilbo blushed brilliantly and ducked her head.

"It can hardly call it mine anymore." She muttered shyly, "Bofur owns that song, the moment he sang it that first time in Rivendell. I've made up another song, similar concept but different."

"You'll have to sing it sometime." Thorin offered.

Bilbo gave a small laugh.

"Oh no. I make up the tunes, others sing them. Ask Paladin and Saradoc to sing it for you." she laughed.

"I think not. I believe they're not overly fond of me."

"Give them time, they'll come around." Bilbo replied as she fought back a yawn. She hugged her arms closer around herself as she walked, trusting Thorin to lead her back to her room as her eyes dropped close.

She jumped a little when Thorin suddenly reached around her, opening a door that had suddenly metalized beside her.

"Mama?" her tired face broke into a wide smile at the sleepy call of her son, who was peering with bleary eyes from the bed, his perfect little face outlined by the candle still burning by his bedside table.

"Hello my heart. Did we wake you?"

Frodo yawned and rubbed his eyes before blinking sleepily between her, as she moved to his side, over to where Thorin was hovering by the doorway.

"Hello." Frodo gave Thorin a little wave. "Is it morning?" Frodo asked his mother.

"Hardly." It was Thorin who answered him, moving slowly further into the room.

"Oh…" Frodo yawned again, "Will I see you tomorrow?" Frodo asked Thorin, "Haven't seen you in forever."

"I will come and see you tomorrow if your mother permits." Bilbo shot him a look that was clearing questioning his sanity.

"Of course you can." Her voice was almost a growl. As if she was going to stop father and son from seeing each other, especially when they appeared to be getting on so well. She wasn't sure exactly if they were at the father and son emotional level yet but she knew that Frodo liked Thorin (every free moment they had spent together yesterday afternoon had had Frodo gushing over Thorin) and well, going by Thorin's look every time Frodo was brought up in their conversation, and not to mention the look he was giving Frodo now, Bilbo suspected the Kingly dwarf was more than a little fond of their child.

"Oh good." Frodo cheered before falling immediately back to sleep.

Bilbo gave a small amused snort as she brushed a black curl from her son's face. Clearly his ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time had not been affected by his recent adventure.

"I will take my leave." Thorin said softly.

Bilbo nodded mutely. She was quite a bit more alert than she had been previously and was feeling more than a little overwhelmed by everything that had transpired between them. This was not at all how she had expected their reunion to be like, not in Smaug's bedroom, in the middle of the night with her believing that she was dreaming the whole thing. She actually felt a bit of a fool.

Had she really blurted out, giggling as she went that she forgave him for everything he had done?

It didn't matter that she had forgiven him in her heart because that was between her and her heart. He wasn't meant to know! Not yet at least.

And her brain, which had always tried to choose the path of logic and reason, was positively fuming now that it was fully awake and comprehending what was going on. How could she been so stupid?

She shook her head, feeling suddenly world-weary.

She heard him sigh heavily from where he stood near the doorway of her chamber.

"As I said before," He spoke softly, his words heavy, "I've not taken your words to heart. You thought you were dreaming and things we say in our dreams are not what we wish to say in our waking hours. But," and he waited until she met his gaze before he continued, "I do ask that you do take my words to heart. I am not seeking for your forgiveness for I have no right to ask for it, but I do wish for you to know that you have nothing to ask for forgiveness for."

"I'm still banished, a traitor…" He was shaking his head before she had even finished speaking.

"No, you're not. Well," He looked away from her and stared at the wall above her head, "Balin, Ori and I are working of rectifying the situation."

"Meaning…" She could scarcely breathe.

"Meaning you will no longer be seen as traitor," he winced as he spoke that wretched word, "nor will you be banished by our laws. Please believe me when I say that for years Balin and Ori have been working tirelessly to rescind both your banishment and label of traitor." He snorted and shook his head angrily, "The words of a mad king are followed without question but once he comes to his sense and tries to change it, to fix what he has broken he is met with nothing but endless stone walls and challenges." He spoke with grinding bitterness.

"I'm…."

She was stopped by the glare of flaming blue eyes.

"Don't you dare think for a moment about apologizing," He growled furiously, "I caused this mess; I will see to it that it is fixed. I will not have you apologizing for something that was entirely my fault. This would never have happened if I wasn't so weak to fall for the gold sickness."

"Thorin…"

He waved her off, breathing heavily, his face twisted in pain.

"Not tonight. I said that before. I said that we would talk, that you would have your say and I would try my best to make things right by you. But all those words must wait for now. You need your rest. You have had quite the ordeal and you need to recover from it."

"Alright." She was at a lost as to what else to say, she was simply too taken aback by this Thorin, who was so different from the Thorin in her dreams and the Thorin of her past that she was lost as to what she should do or say. He was so different and yet completely the same.

"I will leave you both." He nodded his eyes lingering for a moment on her, their son, his eyes unquestionably softening as he stared at Frodo. He seemed to remember himself after a moment and turned his full attention on to her.

He surprised her completely by bowing to her deeply; something he had never once done to her before (except for those few times when he had been teasing her, those few happier times when things were just right and good in their world).

"Good night." She squeaked as he rose to his full height once more. He simply nodded, placing his hand over his heart before leaving the room silently, closing the door behind him.

Bilbo slumped against the bed, heart pounding.

All of that had to be a dream. It just had to be. It had been all too surreal for it to have happened in real life. Thorin… apologizing to her! Thorin expressing concern for her well-being?!

A dream, all of it had to be a dream…

She rubbed her forehead as she climbed back into bed, Frodo mumbling softly beside her. What if it wasn't a dream? What if…

She pressed her hand to her heart, over where her funny ring once more hung upon its cord. She ran a finger over the cool metal for a moment before lowering her hand to her lap.

What if everything that had happened was real and Thorin…

No, she wouldn't analyse what had transpired this night now. As Thorin had repeatedly said himself, she was tired, over tired even and still suffering from the after effects of her misadventure. In the morning she would think over what had happened this night, analyse and over-analyse everything Thorin had said and done, but for now, now she would try and sleep. And hopefully, hopefully she would not dream. Not of him, not of any of thing.

She curled herself up around her son and closed her eyes, feeling warmth and darkness wrap itself around her, hugging her close to its breast. Her breaths grew deeper and her eyelids heavier and within moments she was asleep, her mind filled with senseless and harmless dreams that she would not remember in the coming morning.

Chapter Text

"So this is where you've been hiding." Thorin didn't looked up from his anvil as he brought his hammer down upon the metal that he was fashioning into a frying pan – of all things, but sometimes creating simple and basic items were far more gratifying then the creation of a grand sword or shield.

"How long have you been down here?" Dwalin continued as he walked further into Thorin's personal forge, running a large hand over the odds and bobs Thorin had created over the years and yet had never done anything with.

Thorin shrugged and continued to hammer. He could hear Dwalin grumbling in exasperation behind him but didn't look around. He wasn't in the mood for Dwalin and his teasing. He wished only to be left with his thoughts, to think of her in peace.

"You don't want to talk about last night?" Thorin jumped involuntarily and stared over his shoulder at his oldest friend before realising that of course Dwalin was talking about the company's reunion with their burglar and not what he, Thorin, had been doing last night. Which was having his own reunion with their burglar. Which she had thought to be all just a dream. He felt his temper flare to a burning fire within his chest and he smashed the hammer down a little too hard upon the metal he was working with, beating it completely out of shape.

He cursed loudly, flipping the blasted thing over and tried to beat the damn thing back into some repair.

"Almost think you wanted it to go badly." Dwalin continued calmly once he was done watching Thorin's little show.

"Of course not." Thorin grunted. He looked back at his friend before sighing, "Fine… how did it go?"

"Well, since you asked." Dwalin replied with a grin, "It went very well. The lass was a little high-strung at first, frighten I think but she calmed down after a time. She was almost herself by the end, smiling and talking away."

"So she is happy then."

"Aye, I say she is." Dwalin smiled, "She and the little lad were inseparable."

"Of course."

"She looked for you." Thorin looked back at his friend sharply. Dwalin nodded wisely, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "Talked about you actually."

"You what?" Thorin snapped in alarm, turning once more away from his anvil and stared with wide eyes at his oldest friend.

"I just answered her unasked questions," Dwalin replied innocently. Thorin stared at his friend for a moment longer before staring beseechingly up at the stone ceiling of his forge.

"And what, exactly, did you say to her?" He growled.

"Cool your furnace." Dwalin snorted, "I said nothing terrible… only the truth."

"Oh, just the truth?" Thorin growled sarcastically, glaring in true annoyance now at his friend. "Because no harm ever comes from telling the truth!"

"I said," Dwalin continued, completely ignoring the sarcastic grumbles from his friend and King, "that ya wished to keep your distance from her until she asked to see you. That ya did not want to overwhelm her." Thorin started to let out a sigh of relief when Dwalin added, "I may have also added in that you were a coward." Thorin relief turned quickly back into a scowl to which Dwalin only shrugged in response to.

"Well, you are. At least when it comes to her. May have mentioned that to her also."

"Wonderful." Thorin grumbled but truly he wasn't overly bothered, his mind was once more turning over the events of last night, his unexpected meeting with Billanna.

"You should see her." Dwalin said suddenly after a few moments of companionable silence, "She may be a little hesitant at first but you can talk her round." Dwalin shrugged.

Thorin shook his head and went back to hammering his fry pan.

"Craven." Dwalin rumbled before coming up to slap Thorin shoulders. "Come, you need food or you'll not be thinking straight for the rest of the day. You've been here since we left your study, eh?"

Thorin didn't respond but allowed for Dwalin to help him tidy up his forge.

He set aside his beaten up fry pan lightly upon his work bench before following Dwalin out of his forge in the direction of the kitchens.

Bombur greeted them with a wide smile, ushering them to a corner of the kitchen where they could eat their food in peace and out of the way of the kitchen workers. It took some encouragement from Dwalin for Thorin to eat for his mind to busy mulling over other things to bother thinking about eating.

"Had any more luck with how to lift our burglar's banishment?" Dwalin questioned once Thorin had finished his food. Thorin threw his head of guard a withering look.

"I will not put her threw a trial." He growled.

"Have you ever thought your might just have to?" Dwalin asked, "All your sessions with the council on this matter have fallen flat. They're not going to budge just because you're snarling at them to – in fact that might make them less likely to budge – but a trial… her trial, might just be what they need to get them moving."

"And explain to me how, oh wise one, a trial will do anyone any good beside from causing her more unnecessary grief and humiliation."

Dwalin let out his own growl of frustration.

"It won't be a trial to condemn her," Dwalin snapped, "rather the trial will be all about rescinding her banishment and title of traitor. By having this trial, according to Balin, will be what is needed for this to happen."

Thorin buried his face into his hands.

"I would have for her not to go through it at all." Thorin muttered.

Dwalin reach across the table and clasped Thorin shoulder.

"Aye, I know laddie. But it's the only way."

Thorin groaned.

"Balin and Ori will help her through it, Thorin. All of us will, but those two will help her to say exactly what she needs to say during the trial and to keep her from letting her clever tongue run away with her as it does."

"I pray so."

"Everything will work out, you'll see." Dwalin rumbled reassuringly. "Don't worry yourself so much."

"Easier said than done." Thorin muttered before standing up. He needed to change his clothes, there were meetings to attended this morning and a son to visit in the afternoon. And his mother…

Thorin rubbed his chest at the thought of Billanna.

She had said that she forgave him, for everything, but she had also thought that much of their conversation was taking place within a dream. It had pained him right to the very core of his heart with how easily she had completely disregarded her own feelings when she thought that it was she who needed to ask, to beg for forgiveness from him, and not the other way round. How she had not believed him when he told her that there was nothing to forgive. And her panic attack.

His chest panged painfully as he remembered vividly Billanna's panic attack, her desperate words and panic as she stood before him trembling, looking close to fainting as her terror and desperation began to overwhelm her.

"Thorin?" Thorin shook himself from his memories and followed Dwalin out the kitchen, giving Bombur a nod as they passed.

"Tell your brother and Ori, and if our burglar is up to it, to start preparing for the trial. I will bring it up in today's council. Hopefully we can get this over and done with quickly so that we can focus upon important things."

"Bovin? Bzog?"

Thorin nodded before striding off towards his chambers to prepare for a morning of royal meetings, praying that they would pass by quickly so that he could prepare to the meeting with a fully awake and comprehensive Billanna. Also their son was expecting him to visit today and he couldn't let the lad down, no matter how much he was a coward when it came to facing the lad's mother.

Chapter Text

"Mama. Mama wake up." Bilbo groaned as her son shook her shoulder. She wrapped an arm around her head and tried to pull away from her son's little fingers.

"Mama. It's time to wake up." Her son followed her struggles to get away from him.

"No…" Bilbo grumbled.

"Mama!" Frodo's whine was piecing, breaking through the final barrier in her sleep idle mind.

"Fine. Fine, I'm awake. I'm awake." She rolled herself into a sitting position and scowled half-heartedly at her sweet smiling son.

"Well?" She asked her innocent faced son.

"I'm hungry." Frodo trilled loudly causing Bilbo to sigh and cover her face with her hands.

"Hello hungry, I'm mama." She retorted back behind her hands causing Frodo give a wordless whine.

"MAMA!"

"Well," Bilbo peeked through her fingers at her now impatient and pouting son, "you did say…"

"I'm hungry." He finished for her sulkily.

"And I'm mama."

"MAMA!"

Before Bilbo could reply, there was a gentle knock on the chamber door.

"Go on then." Bilbo encouraged her son who was practically vibrating on the bed.

Frodo bounced from the bed, his little feet hitting the floor at a run.

"Wait Frodo, ask who it is…" Bilbo started to say but gave up when Frodo threw open the door without stopping to even take a breath.

"Good morning lass." Oin rumbled as he strode into the bed chamber. Bilbo pulled on her dressing gown and walked to meet the old, mostly deaf dwarf.

"Morning Oin." She replied motioning for the old dwarf to take a seat in one of the chairs by the fire place.

"How you feeling? You're looking better, even from last night." The old dwarf rumbled as he checked her over, his calloused hands rough against the skin of her forehead as he checked her temperature and looked over her scar.

She fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair as he ran his fingers up and down the raged skin. She was grateful that Frodo had taken to sitting in her lap, allowing for her hands to be occupied by playing with his curls. She hated when people paid heed to her scar, worse they went about touching it. It triggered all sorts of unpleasant memories she would simply like to forget.

"How long before you had this looked to after you took the blow?"

Bilbo shrugged.

"Don't know."

"Eh," Oin looked away from her scar and focused upon her eyes and mouth, "what's that? You don't know? Hmmm, remember how you got it?"

"No."

"At the battle, yes?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm. Maybe a thrown rock or the edge of a shield. Doubt it was inflicted by an axe or sword. An arrow maybe? No, most likely a rock…" The more Oin spoke, the more she trembled. Her hands briefly fisted in Frodo's hair before she was able to calm herself down.

"The wizard healed this for you yes? Once he found you."

"He cleaned and stitched it up, if that's what you mean?"

"Aye." Oin nodded. "You're lucky, he must of found you just before the infection truly set into the wound."

"Yes, I was lucky. Very." She agreed quietly.

She remained mostly quiet during Oin's examination. From what she could gather from his stream of muttered comments beneath his breath was that she was in far better shape than he had been expecting her to be in, which gave her hope that she would soon be able to leave the confines of her chambers…

Her brain paused there as the events of the previous night came flying back to her with the speed of elven arrow.

Her cheeks immediately started to warm.

Had she really… and Thorin? Oh… dear.

"Mama?" She felt Frodo lightly patting her cheek, trying to draw her attention.

"Hmm," She shook herself and smiled at her son, "what is it my heart?"

"Your face is all red." Frodo observed wisely, his words causing her cheeks to heat even further.

"The lad's right, lass." Oin grunted in concern, "fever?"

"Ah, no." She let out a little breathless laugh, "no, no fever. Just… a thought."

Her son stared up at her, his small face completely clueless while Oin simply grunted once more.

"You seem to have made a surprising recovering." Oin finally said, "Though it has come to my attention that you suffer from battle-dreams."

Bilbo blinked at him for a moment before understanding.

"Oh, my nightmares? What about them?"

"Well, there's two ways to deal with them." Oin offered her seriously, "the first and easiest way is for you to talk with someone about them, but…" he rolled his eyes at her shaking head, "obviously you don't feel comfortable with that solution… yet. The other option is a tonic that you take every night before you go to bed. It will make you sleep heavily and you will not dream."

"Alright." Bilbo grinned, delighted by the idea of finally being free of her nightmares.

"However," Oin waved her off, "it can have side-effects."

Bilbo sighed; of course it would. Didn't they always?

"And they are?"

"You may find yourself becoming easily irritable. You will find yourself to be more tired during the day, lacking energy. Some find that by taking the tonic, while they receive relief from battle-dreams at night, they are severely affected by headaches during the day."

"Wonderful." Bilbo grumbled, "Almost doesn't seem worth the bother."

She thought over her nightmares, her battle-dreams. A reprieve from them would be lovely, but the last thing she needed, here of all places, was for her to be irritable, tired, without any energy and suffering a headache. No, she would suffer with her dreams as she had always had done.

"You could always talk with someone about them." Oin offered gently again, "Many have found that talking over their battle-dreams with those who share similar experiences to be a great help."

"Maybe." Bilbo muttered, not looking at the old dwarf. For her to talk about her battle-dreams meant opening a whole can of worms Bilbo would just rather remained sealed. Talking about her dreams would be having to admit how scared of Thorin, in all his gold sickness terror, she still was. It was all fine to admit still being frightened of the things Smaug and Azog, the goblins and Gollum had done during their travels, but to talk about Thorin? No, she couldn't.

He's fine now, a part of her whispered, he looked so well and healthy last night. He was begging for your forgiveness… and you gave it to him, remember.

I thought it was all a dream, she growled back angrily; I was trying to fend off the gold sick Thorin for as long as possible. I was saying anything to keep that version of him away!

Liar, the voice whispered before disappearing from her mind.

Bilbo sighed heavily.

Maybe she was a liar (and a thief, let not all forget that), but it still didn't stop her feeling utterly confused and twisted inside and talking about it, talking about any of it, with anyone, wasn't going to help.

"Think on it lass. Believe it or not, talking does help." Oin said gently as he lay a hand upon her arm.

She simply nodded, not wanting to say yay or nay to anything at this point.

Oin left with the promise that food would be sent to them, leaving mother and son to themselves for a time. Bilbo was able to find a simple (though to her it was still far too grand for every day wear) red dress in the closet, pulling it on and braiding her hair into a long simple braid. It felt nice to be able to do things for herself by herself.

Getting Frodo dressed was another matter entirely. The boy was far too energetic to stay still, desperate to get out and start exploring, not caring a wit that he was still wearing the clothes that he had slept in.

"Frodo." Bilbo growled in exasperation, "Come here this instance, young man. You're not leaving this room without changing your clothes and giving that bird nest of yours a good brush."

"But-but… Mama!"

"No, come…"

Frodo shot for the door just as it opened after a brief knock.

"Grab him!" Bilbo cried ignoring the small cry of outrage as Frodo was caught clean off his feet by Dwalin and placed upon his shoulders.

"No fair!" Frodo whined before sighing heavily, resigned to his capture.

"No running off." Dwalin replied simply to the lad hanging like a sack of wheat over his shoulder, "and apologize to your mother."

"Sorry Mama." Her son gave her his best kicked puppy-dog look over his shoulder at her.

"It's fine. Let's finish getting you dressed and presentable and then we can get up to as much madness as you wish."

"Outside! Outside!" Frodo cheered as Dwalin set him down upon his feet again.

"Well…" Bilbo looked to both Dwalin and Balin, who had come into the chamber behind his brother.

"Maybe not today Laddie," Balin answered kindly, "at least, not today for your mother." Bilbo gave him a questioning look that Balin returned with an apologetic one.

"Kili will be along soon to take you to play with your friends." Balin added to the lad.

"Oh…" Frodo thought on that for a moment before smiling, "Will Thorin come and visit? He said that he would." Frodo was bouncing on the soles of his feet. "He promised, didn't he Mama." Frodo looked back at her with a hopeful but almost begging expression, "he promised."

"Eh…" Both brothers looked startled and a little dumbstruck as they looked at her as well. She shrugged her shoulders in careless manner even though her heart raced as yet another piece of evidence fell into place that last night had definitely not been just a very life-like dream.

"We'll see my heart. You know that Thorin," how did it no longer hurt to speak his name? Before last night, the mere thought of him caused her to be almost crippled beneath a weight of regret, guilt and anger, but now, now…. "is a king and kings are very busy doing… kingly things." She swore she heard Dwalin snort but when she looked at him his face was expressionless.

"Oh…." Frodo's whole face fell and Bilbo felt her own heart sink.

"But that doesn't mean," She continued quickly, "that he won't make every effort to come and visit you."

"He has meetings for all of this morning laddie but the afternoon is his own." Balin offered causing Frodo to beam.

"So he might come then, yes?"

"Well…" both brothers were looking at her causing her to sigh.

"I told him that he could come and see you today, so hopefully this afternoon he will do so." She ignored the once more bewildered looks that crossed both Balin's and Dwalin's faces. She was glad that their breakfast arrived at just that moment so the two brothers didn't have time to question her of when she gave Thorin permission to see their child. She was still trying to get the events of last night sorted in her own head, let alone try and explain them to another person.

Once both she and Frodo had consumed their breakfasts, Kili arrived (with Ori close on his tail) to collect Frodo to spend time with Bombur's lads. Frodo was a little hesitant to leave her side, making her promise multiple times not to go anywhere while he was gone. It was only when she promised profusely that she wasn't going anywhere and she would be right where she was currently standing the very moment he returned was Kili finally able to coax him out of the chamber. It broke her heart still, when she saw the worried looks Frodo kept sending her way as Kili guided him out of the room.

When they were gone and she could no longer hear either of their chattering voices in the corridor she turned to face the three dwarves who remained. Ori was sitting at the table, paper and ink set up around him, looking rather grumpy and disgruntled about something. Balin sat beside him, still wearing an apologetic look while Dwalin was finishing off what was left of hers and Frodo's breakfast.

"Well, this doesn't look worrying and ominous at all." She spoke mainly to the two sitting at the table but Dwalin stopped eating, watching her closely. "What's going on?"

While Balin was clearly trying to think of how to phrase whatever was going on delicately only to have Ori beat him to the punch by simply being blunt out.

"They want a trial."

She blinked back at him owlishly.

"Who do? For who?" She paused for a moment as a terrifying thought invaded her mind unwantedly, "for me? A trial for me? Or against me?"

"Sit down lass," Dwalin ordered as she started to hyperventilate, hand pressed firmly over her racing heart.

"I haven't even said goodbye to my family," she continued to babble, "and Frodo? I just got here and… I promised him. I promised that I would still be here when he got back and…"

"Bilbo!" She felt herself being shoved gently into a spare chair, her whole body trembling.

"This isn't a bad thing." Balin said shooting Ori a displeased look that caused the lad to wilt a little in his chair.

"How? How is it not bad?" Bilbo yelled startling the three dwarves with her volume. Obviously they had all forgot just how high her voice could get when she was yelling and upset.

"Because by having a trial, we can have your banishment and the label of traitor lifted…" Balin replied calmly.

"But… how?" She asked in quieter voice but no less squeaky, "I don't understand."

"The trial is not to condemn you lass, but to lift all allocations and clearing your name of all crimes."

"How?"

"You tell your side of the story." Ori explained quietly, his wide brown eyes gentle and worried.

"My-my side? How will that help?" She didn't understand what they were saying. The whole concept of a trial was completely foreign to her; the Shire had no need for such things, there was never a crime worse than the stealing of vegetables (and occasionally spoons) that warranted for such an event to take place. The only trials she knew of were the ones she read in her books and those had been great and involved things with the person the trial was for usually met a terrible fate in the end. Deservingly so, in most cases, but still, a terrible end all the same.

"The council has only ever heard our side of the story, never yours." Balin answered clearing seeing her distressing and trying his hardest to help ease some of it, "By hearing your side, it is the hope that they will be more willing to lift your banishment. Well, will be more willing to agree with Thorin for him to lift your banishment. Up until now, we have been met by stone walls every time we have brought up the matter of rescinding your banishment due to the council's belief that your stole the Arkenstone for your own purposes and under selfish motivation and not at all because you wish to save us."

"So if I can convince them that I – I stole the stone because I didn't wish for a battle to break between us, I mean you and the elves and the people of Laketown, I will not be a traitor? I won't be banished anymore?"

"That is our hope, yes. Thorin has already signed the paperwork for your banishment to be lifted; it simply needs to be agreed upon by the council."

"And what are the chances of them agreeing?" Bilbo asked slowly, her tone careful. She wasn't stupid; she could read the hesitation on Balin and Ori's faces. Even Dwalin had paused in his eating and looking mildly uncomfortable.

"Higher than you might think," Balin said finally, "but…"

"Hopefully with the trial you will convince them completely to agree with Thorin's decision." Ori finished for him, giving Bilbo a hopeful smile. Bilbo returned it weakly, running a hand worriedly against her cheek.

"I don't – I don't really want to do this." She admitted with a small sigh.

"We know lass," Balin replied touching her hand lightly on the table with his own, "we've done everything to try and keep you from this situation. But it's the only one that will be entirely fair to you."

"Will it be though?" Bilbo asked.

"You will tell your story to the council and a select few of the public. We will be there, the company and Thorin. As I said lassie, the papers for the lift to your banishment have already been signed by Thorin, this will simply make it legal and binding. By having this trial no one under the mountain or outside of it can say that the rescinding of your banishment was anything but lawful and binding."

"Or Thorin showing favouritism." Bilbo muttered under her breath.

"Yes, that too." Balin agreed causing Bilbo to blush. She hadn't meant to be heard.

"So," She swallowed and ran a finger over the table top, tracing her fingertip along the grain of the wood, "what do I have to do? How do I prepare for this?"

"That's why we're here," Ori replied with a bright smile, "we'll help you through it. Everything will be fine."

"I hope so." Bilbo smiled back at the young dwarf tentatively.

"All will be well," Balin promised her, his old face firm and determined, "we will make it so."

Dwalin bumped his fist lightly against her forehead before taking his leave; there was some important head of the guard business he had to attend this morning and he didn't want to leave the thief of a Spy Master with too much time on his hands to get up to any mischief.

It was nerve-wrecking to sit and be questioned over her reasons for taking the Arkenstone by Balin, with Ori diligently writing down her stuttered response. She kept all her answers to his question as brief as possible trying to keep herself detached and not involving any emotion. But it was hard.

She had never made a point to remember what had occurred during those awful days and thinking back on them, the old fear of dying in a tomb of stone, to never see flowers, trees and rolling hills of green grass, to never feel the wind or the warmth of the sun on her face again, started to creep within her chest.

She had been so scared then and filled with such uncertainty, that even with the repeated promises from everyone that Dain and his army were coming, she had simply wanted it to end, all of it, the fear, the hunger, Thorin's strange behaviour, everything, to simply end, be over, finished.

In truth, she had never thought much of the consequences of her taking the damn stone, only wishing to be spared a war, hoping, praying that a trade could be set up between her dwarves and the elves and men and that everyone would be able to just go home, safe, happy, unscathed. But of course, that hadn't happened at all and now remembering back on it she couldn't help but berate herself on what on earth she had been thinking at the time! How on earth had she ever thought that that ridiculous half-plan would ever work? It should have been obvious to her then that it wouldn't but even so, she still gone along with it and…

"Bilbo…" Bilbo was shaken out of her silent war by both Balin and Ori looking at her in concern and a queer noise filling the room. It took her another moment for her to realise the noise was coming from her and that she was actually crying. No, sobbing would be more accurate.

"I'm sorry." She choked out, her sobs making it difficult to speak, harder even to breath. She pressed her face into her hands, trying to calm herself down by taking deep breaths and thinking of things that made her unconditionally happy; thinking of Frodo had always been her best go to method for calming down and cheering up quickly.

"Maybe we should call it a day." Balin offered gently, his face clearly showing how unhappy he was for making her cry.

"No," she hiccuped, "I'm fine." She took the handkerchief Ori offered her and wiped the tears streams from her face. "I'm sorry. I don't – I haven't – I don't make a habit of thinking back over those days and I guess – I didn't realise just how raw I still am over them. Silly really." She tried to joke but the gentle hand that Balin lay upon her shoulder almost had her in tears again.

"Never." He replied softly, "I can't begin to imagine how hard this is for you, and I truly wish from the bottom of my heart that those days, that particular day had gone differently but…"

"We cannot change the past. We can only learn from it and proceed forward as best we can." Bilbo replied in a low voice but her tears had at least abated for the time being.

Both dwarves smiled at her approvingly before Balin continued with his questioning. He asked the same questions over and over again, sometimes asking it in a different way, using different words while others he asked exactly the same, word for word.

It took a while for Bilbo to fully understand what he was trying to do, but once she did she was impressed. He was trying to get her to answer precisely what his questions were asking for, in manner that could not be twisted or misinterpreted in anyway. It wasn't an easy feat, and with her being a story-teller at heart she tended to wander off track, adding in a detail that she hadn't previously mention in her answer the first five times Balin had asked her that particular question, which of course lead for her answer being tweaked and Balin having to rephrase his question to fit in this new detail if he deemed it worthy of her mentioning in her trial.

This whole process was exhausting both physically and mentally but in the end when she started to see a fierce light burning within Balin's eyes Bilbo started to feel hope.

Maybe this would all work out and everything would be alright.

She could put hope in this, at least for now.

Taking another sip of her water to cleanse her throat, she forced her head to hold the constructed answers to Balin's questions firmly in her head, ready to speak them the moment Balin asked for them.

She could feel herself wearying quickly from this structured, repetitive questioning and answering, but she had faith in Balin, faith that he knew what he was going and in the end, it would all be worth it.

Chapter Text

Frodo walked slowly with Bombur's boys, following Kili as he led them to Bifur and Bofur toy stall in the busy dwarf market. He was hunched in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible while at the same time trying to avoid being stepped on. He had often visited markets with his mother; he frequently went to the weekly markets in Hobbiton, cheerfully eating his weight in strawberries and wild berry sweet pies. The markets in Hobbiton were supremely different to the market he was currently walking through.

Hobbiton markets were bright, always taking place under a brilliant blue sky and blazing sun, fresh food and flowers scenting the air, along with cheerful chatter and laughter. Here in this dwarven market, set within a huge green stone carven, things were not so bright or cheerful. There was a lot of noise but there was to be little cheer found in the voices and barely any laughter, and most of the wares consisted of metal or stone.

He could smell food in the air but it wasn't like any of the food back home and he found he had little desire to try what was on offer. There was no fresh fruit or vegetables for sale nor any flowers. It was the lack of these little things in particular that had Frodo becoming acutely aware of just how much he missed the Shire. He missed flowers; he missed colours, natural colours that came from the well-turned earth and bright sunlight. The colours in these markets were stagnant and dwarven or man-made.

He hunched in further into himself and not for the first time wished that he could have just remained with his mother in her chambers.

"Ya alright, Frodo?" Bofdur asked by his side, his hazel eyes wide with concern. "Yer Mama?"

"Oh, she's fine. I'm fine." Frodo forced himself to smile at the younger (though not in years) red headed boy. "I'm just thinking." He gave a careless shrug of his shoulders. He didn't want to admit just how unhappy he was to be leaving his mama so soon after her waking up. And he couldn't help but feel that his time spent with Bofar and Bofdur was actually a means to get him out of the way, away from his mama.

He huffed quietly, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Come on Frodo." Kili called over his shoulder. Frodo broke into a trot to catch up with Kili and Bombur's boys.

"Hello laddies." Bofur called when he saw them as they approached his and Bifur's toy store.

"Hello Uncle Bofur." The dwarf lads chanted back with wide grins before turning their attention onto the toys that decorated the stall. Bifur gave them a friendly grunt as they pawed at some dwarven warrior and orc toys.

"Come on Frodo." Kili coaxed when he noticed Frodo was still standing a little back, his bright blue eyes roving around the rest of the markets, taking in the stalls of different wares, a slight frown playing on his tiny face.

"Ya alright laddie?" Bofur asked once Frodo was standing by the stall.

"Uh huh… just…"

"What's up?" Kili asked, ruffling his little cousins black curls.

Frodo gave a little shrug.

"It's just, its inside. The market… markets are meant to be outside, under the sun, not in a carven under a mountain." Frodo muttered, crossing his arms across his chest once more, his mouth pouting. Over his head Kili and Bofur looked at each other, both at a bit of loss as to what to say to the little lad. It was a first for them both to see the little lad in such a bad temper. Normally Frodo was a cheerful little lad, happy and open to try new things, so it was odd to see him so upset over how different a dwarven market was to the ones he had seen in the Shire.

"C'mon here, laddie." Bofur came forward and wrapped his arm around Frodo's shoulders and gently pulled the little boy around and behind his and Bifur's toy stall.

He sat the little boy down upon an upturned crate before crouching down beside him.

"What's the matter laddie?" Frodo shook his head.

"C'mon, laddie. Ya can talk ta me." Bofur smiled at Frodo encouragingly, cupping a hand under his cheek.

Frodo stared at him before looking over to where a stack of unpainted toy wooden swords stood behind the stall.

"You should paint them silver and blue." Frodo answered instead as he pointed towards the toy swords.

Bofur smiled a little more widely.

"Like yeh mother's little letter-opener?"

"Or like Glamdring… or Orcrist." Bofur watched as the dwobbit lad shifted uncomfortably on the crate, his blue eyes filling with unhappiness.

"Did you know?" Frodo asked softly, his brilliant eyes boring into Bofur's. Bofur stared back at the boy, completely mystified as to what the boy was asking, "Who my father is?" Bofur felt his stomach drop as Frodo clarified his question more clearly.

Ah… well… dammit, he was not the right dwarf the laddie should be talking to about this with. He'd only say the wrong thing and upset the little lad more. Bilbo would have his hide if he did!

"Well, eh…"

"I know…. well, I understand why it was kept a secret from me." Frodo continued on, oblivious or simply ignoring Bofur's floundering, "I mean, he didn't even know that I existed until a little before I got here, right? And he thought mama was dead, but…" Frodo's voice had grown small before it finally trailed off.

"But?" Bofur prompted him gently.

"You thought mama was dead too right? You and Uncle Kili, Ori and Bifur but, but you all still came looking, you still came and found us. Why didn't…" Frodo looked away from Bofur, out into the dwarven market where no one gave a damn about their very serious conversation. Bofur watched sadly as the little lad's tiny, oh so tiny hands curled into fists, his normally bright blue eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving. Bofur are a moment of simply feeling completely helpless, wrapped his arms around his favourite dwobbit and hugged him close to his chest.

"How long 'ave ya known?" Bofur asked gently, running a hand over Frodo's head of curls. Frodo sniffed against his shoulder.

"Since-since just after we found out about Mama being rescued by Nori. I mean, I think I always suspected 'fore hand, but I only, I only found out for sure when I…" Bofur fought back a smile at the lad's sheepish blush the consuming his face, like a flame. "I wandered off during the night," Frodo finally admitted sheepishly, "and Thorin found me. We talked and he…. Well, he, I mean, I confirmed that he was," Frodo swallowed thickly, "you know, my father." The last word came out as a whisper as if the little lad was afraid to say the word too loudly.

"Wouldn't 'ave guessed ya knew," Bofur admitted, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, "I mean, he's been acting somewhat better… ish around ya, but yer've been just about the same around him."

"Didn't know how else to act." Frodo muttered, "And it was fine, but then… then Mama's comes and now he hasn't come anywhere near me and-and he hasn't visited mama," as he spoke, the little boy's face twisted into a frown, "at least I don't think he has. But Mama said this morning that he would see me today… or I said that. I don't know. But what if he doesn't? Come, I mean. I haven't seen him in days and he didn't come with you yesterday to see Mama and-and." Frodo sighed, "I thought he cared."

"He does care." Bofur said softly, running a hand over Frodo's curls, "he's just been very busy, being majestic for the masses. Not an easy job, I hear, being the king. Wouldn't trade with 'im for all the world, meself."

Frodo sighed.

"He promised, he said he'd visit."

"And he will." Bofur reassured the little lad, hoping with all his heart that he was speaking the truth and not giving false hope.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled and Bofur ruffled his hair.

"N'uthing to be sorry bout. Everyone get lonely and sad from time ta time."

"Did you know? That Thorin was my…"

"Aye."

"And Kili, Ori and Bifur?"

"Aye."

"The whole company?" Frodo stretched his head back to look at Bofur who nodded sheepishly back at him, causing the lad to huff.

"So everybody beside me knew?"

"Aye." Bofur paused for a moment before asking, "are ya angry about that?"

Frodo opened his mouth before sighing and shaking his head.

"No, not really. I guess you all had you're reasons. I'm not even really angry with Thorin, because he has he's reason to, hasn't he? So I can't really be mad at him either."

"Well," Bofur said scratching his neck, "ya can but tha's not in ya nature."

Frodo simply shrugged and went back to looking at the swords.

"Is there anything else upsetting ya?" Bofur asked and Frodo gave a small huff.

"I barely get Mama back," Frodo muttered, "and I'm already being kicked out."

"Eh? How ya mean?"

"This morning! I'm barely awake and I'm already being pushed out the door because Balin, Uncle Ori and Dwalin wants to talk to Mama about adult stuff. And I'm not allowed to stay because I'm a fauntling. And the same happened when Mama was sleeping! No one let me go see her then either!"

"Aye." Bofur nodded seriously, "But I thought tha' was due ta her needing some quiet time ta heal?"

"I can be quiet." Frodo grumbled, "Mama would never have allowed for me to be in a strange room all by myself in I was sick and hurt."

"But she wasn't, was she? Tha Lady Dis, Kili's mama stayed with her the whole time, did she not?"

"It's not the same! It's not! She's my mama! I should 'ave been allowed to stay with her. She would have let me…"

"Aye, she might 'ave." Bofur agreed gently, "but yer mama's an adult…"

"And adults get to do whatever they want." Frodo growled, crossing his arms in a huff causing Bofur, despite himself, to chuckle deep with his chest.

"Well now, I won't go so far and say that now," Bofur replied as he ruffled Frodo's curls, "But adults are meant ta 'ave a better idea of things."

"I have a good idea of things." Frodo retorted but his tone lacked any real anger now and his eyes had simply become resigned.

"I know laddie. I know ya do."

"I just feel as if everyone else knows what's going on except me." Frodo said earnestly, "I know that mama being here causes problems for you, all of you under the mountain. And I'm scared…" the boy's bottom lip started to tremble, "so scared that she might be taken from me. And I-I can't lose my Mama. I just got her back! I won't – I won't let them! Not anyone under the mountain can take Mama away, no one, not even Thorin!"

"Laddie," Bofur caught Frodo's face in his hands, "No one is gonna take yah mama away from ya. No one."

"But…"

"Aye, there's some… issues to be sorted, to be sure of. But Thorin and Balin and Ori are all working of that. Yer mama will be fine and she'll be with ya, until the day she stops breathing, which will be a long, long time away yet."

"No one?"

"No one."

Frodo sighed heavily, his face beginning to relax and his blue eyes were starting to lose their cold, hard edge.

"I miss home." The little boy admitted after a few moments of companionable silence.

"Of course ya do. It's called home-sickness. Everybody gets it. Yer mama did." Bofur watched as the little boy's eyes lit up at the mention of his mother.

"She did? When? Not on your adventure."

"Oh aye."

Frodo stared at him in shocked disbelief.

"But-but how? She was on an adventure, how could she ever have the time to be homesick?"

"Eh, same as ya just now. It just caught up ta her. She was feeling lonely, and sad, not really understanding what was going on around her. So she felt home sick."

"What did she do? To stop feeling home sick?"

"Eh, well." Bofur rubbed his neck. Yelled at him for one thing, but that hadn't stop her from being home sick, she just got distracted from it when they were all snatched by the goblins and she was separated from the group. "She didn't really stop, she just… learn ta cope with it."

"Oh…"

"Everybody copes with tha pains of being away from home in different ways."

"So, I just need to find my way of coping, yes?"

"Aye."

Frodo looked around him, at the market and the dwarves moving around it.

"Okay."

"Good lad." Bofur ruffled his hair.

"Sorry, I got upset and angry with you." Frodo said quietly, his bright blue eyes begging for forgiveness.

Bofur chuckled softly.

"Ya don't need to apologize. Sometimes, we just need to have a good rant. Feel better?"

Frodo touched his chest, laying a hand over his heart before looking up at Bofur with a smile, nodding.

"Good lad." He said again, feeling relief settle nicely within his heart. He didn't know what he'd have done if Frodo had remained feeling miserable and upset with the world, probably say something of foolish proportion to his king. Frodo was far too young to be feeling the emotion he was obviously feeling. Fili and Kili had never felt those sorts of emotions when they were triple Frodo's current age, so it wasn't right for a child so young, no matter how mature he was, to feel what the little dwobbit was currently feeling.

With a much happier Frodo in tow, Bofur walked back around to the front of his stall to where Kili was waiting with his nephews, each of them happily eating their way through a sweet pie. With an easy grin, Kili handed one to Frodo who eyes it cautiously for a moment before taking it with a polite thank you. With Kili and Bifur by his side he watched as the little dwobbit sniffed the pie experimentally before biting into it. It was clear that while it was not the best the little lad had eaten, he was content and quickly demolished the treat and wasn't so dishearten by the taste of it to not ask if he could have another.

"Cheeky," Kili laughed but it was obvious to all that the young dark haired prince was relieved in Frodo change of attitude. He kept shooting Bofur grateful looks, though there were clearly questions within Kili's brown eyes.

Bofur shook his head and thankfully the young prince appeared to drop the matter. After a few more moments of hanging around Bofur's stall, his nephews started making noise of wanting to see other things, to show Frodo more of Erebor's markets and so on. At first it was clear Frodo wasn't overly keen to leave but after a bit more coaxing the boy relented to being pulled along by Bofar who was chattering away about different stalls.

"We'll do a lap of the market and then come back." Kili told Bofur as they both watched the trio standing across away, admiring some finally crafted axes and war-hammers.

"Aye. Maybe get some more sweet pies too?"

"For Frodo?"

"Aye."

Kili shifted unhappily from one foot to the other before nodding. "See you soon." Before he strode over to the boys and the four of them disappeared in amongst the crowd.

Bifur made a soft series of grunts behind him causing Bofur to sigh.

"Not at tha' moment, but he will be. He holds too much in." Bifur nodded seriously and went back to the toy eagle he was carving.

Bofur picked up one of the toy swords Frodo had been looking at earlier and pulled out a paint kit from under the stall table. After a moment of contemplation, he picked out the colours silver, brown and blue before setting to work, hoping his memory was up to scratch of remembering the intricate details of Bilbo's little letter-opener.

Chapter Text

Frodo was feeling much more like himself after his talk with Bofur. He didn't feel quite so suffocated or like the great stone walls were shrinking in all around him. He felt normal, not exactly happy yet but the things that had been bothering and upsetting him before held little sway over his mood now. He listened much more eagerly to what Bombur's boys said to him and smiled a little more widely when Kili looked at him.

He actually had a slight bounce to his step as they returned to Bofur's and Bifur's stall, causing many dwarves to look at him curiously, some obviously noticing his bare feet, whispering behind their hands as they pointed at them and his face. He simply smiled back at those who stared at him leaving them looking more than a little dumbstruck but he didn't dwell upon them or why they were looking at him with such amazement and in few cases, calculating eyes.

While Bombur's boys, upon returning to Bofur's and Bifur's toy stall, immediately took to looking over the beautiful crafted toys their uncle and cousin had made, Frodo continued to look around. He made sure he stayed within eye shot of his uncles (it was only this promise that had kept Kili from accompanying him) as he wandered over to fruit seller that he hadn't seen previously.

The fruit seller eyed him curiously but did not say a word against Frodo lingering around her stall, taking big long sniffs of her fruit and vegetables. Her produce was nothing like what was sold in the Shire but even so, it was a great comfort to smell apples, berries, tomatoes and potatoes again.

He was just thinking of heading back to Kili and the others when he was suddenly shoved to the stone ground. In his desperation to catch himself as he fell backwards, Frodo made a grab for the side of the stall, catching the cuff of his shirt on one of the nails that the fruit sellers stall sign hung upon, causing his shirt to rip at the seam of his shoulder as he fell.

"Hey now." The dwarrowdam fruit seller cried, "none of that you little scamp!" For a moment Frodo worried that the fruit seller was yelling at him but when he gained a grasp of his bearing he saw Wren and his minions running off into the crowd.

"Up ya get love." The fruit seller said kindly as she helped Frodo to his feet. "Poor love," she tuttered as she started to brush him down, taking in the torn shoulder of his shirt and the tear in his sleeve from where it was caught and pulled on by the nail. With gentle hands she turned him around so she could brush down his back.

"I'm fine, really, truly." Frodo spluttered as he watched his uncles raced towards him.

"Of course ya are love, of course…" Frodo felt the fruit sellers fingers freeze as they touched his bare shoulder, the tips of her fingers pressing just below Frodo's odd birthmark. Frodo peered over his shoulder curiously just as his uncles came to his side.

"Ah…"

"Durin." The fruit seller breathed her eyes wide with awe and amazement. "Durin walks amongst us once more." She cried, her voice echoing around the market, of the stone walls and ceiling.

"Huh?" Frodo gaped at her as Kili pulled him to his side as more dwarves, who had heard the fruit seller's words, stopped what they were doing to stare. Frodo shrank beneath their stares, as all at once the word 'Durin' whispered like an echoing wave around the market.

"What do they mean?" Frodo whispered tugging at Kili's shirt, "who do they mean? Why are they all looking at me? Kili?!"

"The boy is Durin reborn."

"The king's son is Durin."

"Durin has returned."

"C'mon." a soft voice said suddenly from behind them, "let's leave before the masses think to grab him." Frodo startled only a little to find Nori standing with them, his face oddly serious.

"Ah, right…" Kili said and started to pull Frodo as quickly as he could away from the growing crowd. Bofur remained where he stood, his nephews safely standing with Bifur, his clear voice ringing out over the echo of voices, though Frodo could not catch a word his uncle said that had the crowd looking to him and not direction Frodo was being pulled in.

"Well, that went well." Nori was saying sarcastically as they moved up an empty corridor.

"I'm sorry." Frodo babbled, "I didn't mean to rip my shirt. I was pushed and it ripped when I tried to catch myself. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault laddie, just a… an added complication, that's all." Nori reassured him gently though Frodo didn't feel very reassured. No, not one bit.

"What did they mean?" Frodo questioned desperately, "Why did they look at me and call me 'Durin'? Who is Durin. What do they mean by 'reborn'? What's going on?"

"Ah…" Was all his uncle seemed to say while Nori sent him an almost apologetic look which did nothing to help ease Frodo confusion or fear. Was there something wrong with him? Was that why everyone was calling him Durin?

With his opposite hand, he reached up and lightly touched his offending shoulder, running his finger over the mark that he knew glared darkly from his pale skin. His mother had always told him that his birthmark, so different from the ones other hobbit children had, was nothing to be ashamed of, that it meant he was special and unique. Now, now he feared it meant something worse, maybe his birthmark actually meant something terrible!

To his horror, he found tears starting to swell behind his eyes while a sob was trying to irritate its way out of his throat.

"Oh no Frodo, don't cry." For as hard as Frodo had tried to keep his misery to himself, a tiny sob had escaped him and immediately caught the attention of Kili and Nori. Before he knew what had happened, he was up in Kili's arms.

"Don't cry." Kili said softly against his curls, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Frodo's back.

"I don't understand anything." Frodo sniffed against his hands.

"I know," Kili whispered, "I know, but you will, promise."

Frodo simply nodded and allowed for Kili to carry him back to his mother's room.

"Kili," Balin started when he and Kili entered the room (Nori had disappeared at some point without Frodo's notice), "We're not…"

"MAMA!" Frodo squirmed out of Kili's arms, hitting the floor at a run. He bounded to his mother's side, her face startled and full of concern, replacing the tired, miserable look she had been wearing as they had entered the room.

"Frodo, what…" But he did not allow her to speak any more words before the whole story came flowing out of his mouth with the speed of speech that only a nervous, upset child could possess.

"Frodo, I… Dear heart, sorry but I caught none of that." His mother said once he had finished causing for a frustrated cry to escape him, startling everyone in the room.

"They called me Durin! They saw my mark and called me Durin!"

"Mark?" his mother questioned, catching his shoulders and forcing him to remain still and look at her, "what mark?"

"My birthmark." Frodo cried, "the one on my shoulder, the one like no one else in the Shire has. People saw it and started calling me 'Durin'!"

His mother's face crinkled with confusion as she stared at him. He allowed for her to turn him around, her fingers lightly touching his birthmark.

"Durin." He heard his mother mutter, "Are you sure?" he looked over his shoulder back at her and saw the look on her face as being the one that she wore whenever she was desperately trying to remember something she had long forgotten.

He heard an uncomfortable cough nearby and both mother and child stared at the dwarves standing in the room, each looking extremely uncomfortable.

"What?" Frodo's heard his mother asked her tone strangely hard, "What do you know that we don't?"

Balin sighed heavily.

"It's rather complicated." Balin said after a brief moment.

"Then un-complicate it!" His mother growled back angrily, her hands on Frodo's shoulders tightening. There was a snort at the doorway alerting them all that Nori had returned.

"Mother bear." He said by way of greeting, nodding his head to Frodo's still fuming mother.

"I'll show you mother bear." Bilbo retorted furiously, "What do you know about Durin? I know…"

"Of course you know," Nori interrupted her easily, "Durin's day remember? Our whole quest was sort centre around us getting here before that particular day occurred. Not to mention, us being of Durin's folk.

"Yes, I know about Durin's Day, I remember that all well enough." Bilbo replied in exasperation, "But the person, the dwarf that that day was named after, him I don't remember much of."

"That is to be expected," Balin stepped in, "we did not tell you much about him during the days of the quest."

"Then tell me about him now. What little I remember of him is that he was a dwarven king, one of the seven dwarven fathers, yes?" Bilbo cried. Normally she would not push so hard for knowledge, especially knowledge about dwarven culture, which she understood well enough to know that it was guarded fiercely and not revealed lightly to those of different races. But with her child so upset and trembling against her, her usual strong sense of logic and calm took flight and she was all for turning into a 'Mother bear' as Nori had just called her to gain the information she needed to set her child mind to rest.

Or not, a voice whispered softly in her head, knowledge is power and can be a great burden. Do you truly wish to put such a burden upon your child?

Bilbo swallowed, as that thought start a flow of doubt inside her head, giving her half a mind to back down and not press the matter further but…

Her mind went completely blank, losing all rivers of thought as he walked into her chambers, his stride cautious and measured and even though his face was calm and portraying very little emotion she could see that his eyes were wary and there was most definitely worry in those sapphire orbs.

She sort of blinked at him stupidly, like a stunned mullet, her brain all the while desperately trying to crank itself back into active working but couldn't as it was continuously bombarded by different memories, some lovely, some… not so much.

Thankfully he did not make any mention to her apparent lack of ability to speak or the fact that she was quickly on her way to hyperventilating, instead he kept his attention firmly on the child clutched to her side.

"You came." Frodo said obviously forgetting for the moment his previous distress.

"Of course I did," Thorin replied calmly as he came to kneel in front of Frodo, "Now, tell me what has happened to get both you and your mother so upset?"

"Oh…" Frodo sighed, looking from his mother to Thorin, "alright then," and so Frodo told the story again, slower this time, staring at his feet more often than not. When he finished Thorin simply nodded in a tired fashion.

"Well, can't be helped." Balin sighed.

"What?" Bilbo yelped, her voice finally returning, "What can't be helped? What is going on? Thorin?" She looked away from Balin and stared straight at Thorin. Once again she found herself to be amazed by how easily his name passes by her lips; easier than breathing it was, to speak his name again. And looking at him, having him right in front of her, meeting her straight in the eyes, didn't cripple her either. It didn't hurt to have him here, to see him, to hear him, to breath in his scent. She wasn't ready to forgive and forget (alright, so maybe it was the forgetting part that she wasn't ready for), but she could stand to have him near her; she could bear having to talk to him, seeing him, breahing him in. The pain was still there, and so was the old fear, but it no longer suffocated her and just as long as he made no sudden movements, did not raised his voice, maybe just maybe she could make it through this meeting without bursting in to tears or having a panic attack.

No.

No, she would do none of those things; she was stronger than that and she would be for the child in her arms. Nori was right, she was a mother bear and right at this moment her cub was frighten and dammit, she was going to make whoever had caused him this fright to pay, so help her. She would make herself survive this unexpected meeting with Thorin, no matter what he said or did, she would survive and protect her child.

"He is Durin."

Despite herself and her previous misgivings and anxiety, Bilbo took her eyes off of Thorin and rolled them towards the ceiling of her chamber, sighing in exasperation.

"'He is Durin'? And what does that mean?"

"Simply that, he is Durin." Thorin gently reached over Frodo and pointed to the birthmark on his shoulder. She stared at the mark, wracking her mind again for everything she remembered being told about Durin.

"Durin… Durin…Durin reborn..." Something in her brain clicked and she met Thorin with wide frantic eyes.

"No, no, no." Bilbo shook her head, "No. That's not possible, he can't be."

"Why can't he be?" Thorin asked her quietly and it was like it was only the two of them in the room, like their child wasn't between them, nor were there any dwarves standing nearby watching them cautiously, waiting for a moment to jump in between the two of them for any reason they saw fit.

"Because it's not possible! He's a dwobbit! Isn't that special enough, unique enough? Why must you place the burden of him being the reincarnation of one of the seven fathers of dwarves, the most famous, the most revered of them all! Durin the Deathless, you cannot be serious. Why…why would he choose to be reborn into a dwobbit? Into Frodo? What can he possibly hope to gain? No, no, no." She shook her head furiously, all the while her brain dug up all she knew about Durin the Deathless, which beside from the basics that she had already blurted out, was very little.

She could feel terror start to burn its way through her body, her chest heaving as her lungs fought for more air. Wasn't her son's life hard enough, being what he was without adding the extra weight of him being Durin? Why, why would anyone wish such a fate, such a destiny upon one who was already facing so much hardship in his path of life.

"Bilbo, breath." Balin soothed somewhere near her.

"I am breathing." She wheezed.

"Erratically." Nori replied, "Deep breaths, in and out, calmly and not too fast, keep them even. There you go, feel better?" If he was closer she would hit him, repeatedly, with Sting. But still, she did as he said and managed to get her breathing under control even though her heart was still threatening leap up into her throat.

"Is-is it bad?" She could hear Frodo asking as he leant back harder against her (If he put any more pressure upon her legs, they were going to buckle and send them both tumbling to the ground), "me being Durin? Is that bad?"

"No," Despite her terror and her heart threatening mutiny, her lips twitched into the tiniest of smiles as she watch Thorin smiling at her son, their son, "no, it is not bad. But I will not lie to you; Mahal has not set you upon an easy road. Even if you were not a dwobbit, but full blooded dwarf, the road before you would still be a difficult one."

"And by being a dwobbit?'

"Your road will most likely be even more difficult… but no less interesting. It will be a hard road, mim ze, but I know that you will be able to navigate your way. And you will not be alone. We will be with you for much of the way."

Bilbo closed her eyes and swallowed thickly. She hadn't realised how badly she needed to hear him speak such words.

"Okay." Frodo said softly, "so I do not need to be scared then?"

"No."

"And neither does Mama?"

"No, your mother does not need to be scared of this either. But knowing her, this will not stop her from worrying."

"Of course not." Bilbo sighed, running her hands over Frodo's curls. She felt quite weak at the knees and needed to sit down. Which she did, not at all surprised by Frodo climbing into her lap, his face turned expectantly upon his father.

"What does it mean, my being Durin?" Frodo asked Thorin. Of course the lad could have asked Balin or Ori who had both resumed their seats at the table beside her, but her son seemed to be determined to keep Thorin talking, maybe fearing that the moment he stopped talking to him, Thorin would disappear just as Nori had done just moments before, taking Kili with him.

"Hmmm," Thorin said with almost a playful air about him, "where to start. It is quite a long, involved story, I'm warning you now."

"I like stories," Frodo replied shifting in Bilbo's lap to make himself more comfortable, leaning back against her chest "and I don't mind if they're long or involved, makes them more interesting. Right Mama?" Bilbo just smiled at him, her head was still swimming at the revelation about his birthmark that her voice had once again abandoned her. Maybe it was for the best, until she got her head sorted out maybe it was better she couldn't talk, less chance of her saying something foolish to Thorin.

Ah, Thorin… well, this meeting hadn't turned out to be half as awkward as she feared it would be, but then it seemed the concern for their child most definitely overwhelmed whatever negative or uncomfortable emotions the two of them might feel for each other.

Thorin was very patient as he explained the history of Durin the Deathless which as it turned out to be indeed a very long, involved, complicated tale. But Frodo listen attentively as did Bilbo, and Balin and Ori threw in some of their knowledge of the story when Thorin grew to be a little stuck in his tale.

They were nowhere near finished Durin's tale when Thorin stopped to rest his voice which had started to crack and grow very dry from all his talking.

For once Frodo did not grumble over a story being stopped before it was finished, his blues eyes instead appeared serious and thoughtful as he leant back against his mother's chest, obviously thinking over everything he had heard.

Bilbo leant forward and kissed her son's forehead, smoothing out the tiny creases that had formed there from all his hard thinking.

He was accepting it, like he accepted most things in his life. Yes, it had caused him some initial panic and fright but now that he understood as much as his young mind was able, he was adapting and accepting this new development in his life.

She couldn't help but stare at him in wonder. What had she done in her life to be blessed with this remarkable little boy? And from a quick glance at Thorin it was clear he was wondering the exact same thing in regards to himself.

Chapter Text

The news that Thorin illegitimate half- dwarf child was in fact Durin the Deathless roared around the Lonely Mountain with almost extraordinary speed. By night-fall it was known in every house hold, down every mine shaft and to all those who stood guard on mountain's peak.

"The people are taking it surprisingly well." Nori reported to the company that night in Bilbo's chambers.

Bilbo stared at him with startled eyes.

"Are you saying that they may not have?" she squeaked as she pulled Frodo closer to her from where he sat on her lap.

"Mama!" he whined, squirming a little in his mother's arms for her to loosen her death hold.

"Well, more like they might have demanded further proof." Nori continued answering Bilbo's question.

"And they don't? Want more proof I mean?" Bilbo asked, looking around the company who stood about her chambers.

"No. They've accepted, more or less, without questions that the little lad is Durin the Deathless reborn." Dwalin rumbled.

"Really?" Bilbo questioned sceptically, not quite believing that. She knew that dwarves were a highly suspicious race and it seemed a bit too far-fetched to her that a whole populace of dwarves would simply accepted, without question, that their most revived king had been reborn in the body of dwobbit. Son of the current King under the Mountain or not.

"When it comes to Durin, lass, we do not question, we accept. If Durin has decided to be reborn into your son, then so be it."

"But… only a few people actually saw Frodo's shoulder! How does everybody else know they weren't just mistaken or it was a trick or something?" Bilbo questioned, her logical, practical brain spinning with the speed of a great eagle's flight.

"When it comes to Durin, there is no mistake and for someone to make a trick out of his rebirth is one of the highest crimes one of our folk can commit." Dwalin grunted.

Bilbo glanced to where Thorin was leaning against the fireplace across the chamber, clearly deep in thought as he, unblinkingly into the cheerful flames.

"So… what now?" She turned her gaze back to Dwalin and Nori, flicking briefly to where Balin and Ori still sat pouring over all their notes from earlier that day.

"Now? Lass, don't look so worried, this is, believe it not, a very good thing." Dwalin laughed.

"How?"

"Well," Balin said looking up from his notes, "it very well could have gone two ways; first is the path the people have chosen which is to accept and celebrate Durin's rebirth, even if he has been reborn into a dwobbit. Or…"

"Or," Dwalin took over, "They could have rebelled against it completely and we'd all be having a very different conversation right now."

"As we snuck out the secret door?" Bilbo asked with a sarcastic smile.

"Aye, something like that."

Bilbo gapped at him for a moment before shaking her head, muttering something that sound very much like 'confusicate and bebother these dwarves," causing Frodo who was still sitting on her lap to giggle.

"Oi, heard that." Nori called winking as mother and son looked over his way.

"But since they haven't rebelled against Frodo being Durin and we're not having to sneak out the secret door, what next?" Bilbo asked.

"We go on with our previous plans." Balin replied, tapping his notes causing Bilbo sighed.

"Oh right… that." She grumbled

"Yes, that." Balin chuckled softly, a fatherly twinkle in his eye as he watched her slump, as best she could with her child in her lap, in her chair.

"How is that," Nori asked with a teasing glint in his eyes, "going?"

"Very well, actually." Balin replied while Bilbo huffed.

"It really is." Ori insisted earnestly, nodding his head so vigorously his braids flapped.

"And as long as our burglar doesn't let her clever tongue run away with her, everything should work out nicely."

"Wouldn't hold your breath." Bilbo muttered darkly, "I talk – a lot – when I'm under pressure."

"Really lassie?" Dwalin teased, "Hadn't noticed."

Bilbo stuck her tongue childishly back at him.

"That's why," Balin said pulling Bilbo's attention back on to the matter at hand, "we've taken your account down on paper, re-written it to the point of no error, misunderstanding or misinterpretation can be taken from it."

"So it's dry and boring, eh?" Nori quipped causing his younger brother to glare balefully back at him. While this was happening, Bilbo was peering at the younger Ri brother's notes, nodding her head as she did so.

"Uh huh, pretty much. I'm going to bore myself to sleep, along with the whole council, if you have me reading that out."

"Spoken like a true storyteller." Balin commented dryly.

"I like Mama's stories." Frodo said suddenly, smiling brightly around the room.

"Bet ya do laddie."

"I like the ones with the trolls and the spiders best." Frodo continued eyeing his mother hopefully as he spoke.

"Nah uh," Bilbo chuckled kissing his curls, "you've had your story quota for the day." She teased, before glancing over to where Thorin still stood by her fireplace, clearly still lost in his own thoughts. As if sensing her gaze, he lifted his head from where he had been staring at the flames and looked back at her causing for her to blush and look away once more.

They are soon joined by the rest of the company, along with her family who take to seeing Thorin in her chambers a lot better than company do, who simply gapped between them like fish pulled out of water.

"What were you expecting," Paladin asked presently, poking Kili's shoulder cheekily, "a screaming match?"

"Paladin!" Bilbo hissed furiously.

"We'd have heard you if it were the case." Paladin added grinning impishly back at her. Saradoc rolled his eyes while smacking his brother-in-law across the back of his head.

"Ouch!" Paladin griped but fell thankfully silent. However it was this little exchange that had stirred the rest of the company out of their stupor and they wandered into her chambers. Frodo squirmed out of her arms and immediately ran to Kili's side, giggling as the dark haired prince swung him up into his arms.

"You're happier." Kili commented.

"Uh huh, Thorin explained what me being Durin meant. Well, sort of, he hasn't finished the story yet." Much to the amusement of everyone in the chamber, the tiny lad turned to look at the King under the Mountain with pouting lips and puppy-dog eyes.

Thorin pulled himself once more from his thoughts, turning his full attention on to his son.

"I will tell you the rest of Durin's tale in due course." He promised sincerely, his sapphire eyes surprisingly soft.

"Tomorrow?" Frodo asked, his eyes narrowed and calculating causing Bilbo to snort quietly behind her hand.

"If you are very good and do everything your mother asks you and you do not wander off at any point this evening and tonight, than yes, tomorrow I will tell you another tale of Durin." Thorin said and Frodo beamed widely.

The evening was spent telling tales of their adventure, most at Bilbo's expense though she was able to get a few digs back at certain members of the company while her family watched on in awe as she got herself into a non-serious verbal spat with Gloin over her silent feet and habit of sneaking up on people.

"You cannot hold me to fault when you are so terribly unobservant Master Gloin." Bilbo teased with a cheeky glint to her eyes.

"Ah, but you cheat burglar." Gloin retorted with harmless fire, "it's unnatural, your silent feet and disappearing ways."

Bilbo opened her mouth but was stopped from retorting cheekily back by her father who had been quietly sitting in the armchair by the fire who up until now content to simply watch the madness around him.

"Why does everyone continually address my daughter as 'burglar'?" Her dear papa asked, his brow forwarded in confusion, "my daughter has never burgled anything in her life."

Bilbo ignored the snorts that several members of the company made to that comment and moved patiently to her father's side.

"Ah, but Papa, that was what they hired me to be, their burglar, when I went on my adventure."

There was a slight pause as Bungo Baggins digested that piece of information.

"Ah ha!" Paladin said suddenly breaking the silence, "the mystery behind who stole Farmer Maggot's mushrooms is solved!"

Bilbo rolled her eyes back at him in exasperation.

"Paladin, if I'm going to go down for that, I'm taking you and Saradoc down with me!"

"But we learnt all we knew from you." Paladin replied innocently.

"Oh," Kili said suddenly, a cheeky smile crossing his face, "isn't Farmer Maggot the farmer whose dogs chased you up a tree?"

Bilbo head snapped around to stare at him open mouth and horrified while Paladin and Saradoc chortled behind her.

"How on earth do you know about that?" She squeaked indignation.

"Eh," Bofur said rubbing his ear smiling at her widely, "the old farmer may have mentioned it to us?"

"When?" Bilbo asked, completely confused now, rattling her brains, trying to remember when her dwarves had any opportunity to pass by Farmer Maggots farm. And talk to him moreover. The old farmer was not exactly known for his conversational skills.

"Eh…"

"We may have gotten a bit lost, the first time we came to see you after the Battle of Five Armies," Ori admitted more than a tad a sheepishly.

"A bit?" Paladin sniggered, highly amused, "you must have taken quite the detour to pass by his old farm. Most try to avoid it but you lot…"

"How are you even an adult?" Saradoc snorted, cuffing his best friend playfully around the head.

"What did you burgle?" Paladin asked once Saradoc had finished cuffing him and he had obviously grown bored with the idea of teasing the dwarves further over their lack of sense of direction when it came to navigating around the Shire, "I mean, you were hired to be their burglar, so what did you burgle? And from who?"

"Ah… long story." Bilbo found herself wishing they had just stayed on the Farmer Maggot topic, she could have handled the teasing and ribbing of being chased up a tree by Maggot's evil dogs if it meant not having to talk about Smaug and going into the whole sorry story over her finding the Arkenstone and all the chaos that followed afterwards. She had suffered telling that story enough times that day, could she not recieve a single break?

"A dragon." Frodo squealed cheerily, "Mama had to steal from a dragon, right Mama?"

"Uh huh?"

"Dragon aren't real." Lotho grunted from where he was slouching off to the side of the chamber.

"Try telling Smaug that." Bilbo muttered trying not to dwell too much upon the giant furnace with wings. She already knew she was in for some truly awful nightmares that night after having spent the day dredging up memories that had been best left forgot, she didn't need for her imagination to feel that it was invited to terrorise her now.

"A dragon?" Paladin question, "you stole from a dragon? How could you steal from a dragon? What did you steal?"

She was flabbergasted by Paladin's questions for she had truly forgotten just how little she had told her family of her adventure. Frodo knew, of course he knew, but the rest of them, her dear hobbit family, had very little idea of just how deep she had truly sunk herself in the mess of another race.

"I think it's well past the time for food." Thorin's clear and authoritative tone broke through the awkward silence that had followed heavily after Paladin's questions, distracting the hobbit man completely from them as he snapped his head eagerly in Thorin's direction.

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief the company and her family went about getting ready for food to be brought to her chambers, distracting them for a time from her and her current situation. She rubbed her chest, trying to keep a hold of the darkness that was starting to brew just beneath the surface of her skin.

It is fine, all is well, she thought to herself, trying to fight the darkness swirling in her belly, Balin said many times over that things were well.

She wrapped her arms around her belly; nonetheless she listened to more tales from the company though her eyes were mainly trained upon her son who obviously squirmed his way out of Kili's arms and was now standing by Thorin who was giving the little lad his full attention, much like earlier that afternoon. It warmed her greatly to see how gentle and comfortable Thorin was with Frodo, showing not even the slightest hint of discomfort as the little boy asks him question after question, answering them all with great patience and a warm smile.

This was what she had always hoped for, for the both of them. And seeing Thorin, this afternoon and now being almost parent-like towards her, their son was what was helping to mend her shattered heart and allowing for her head to take the first real, proper steps towards forgiving Thorin for his past deeds.

For Frodo's sake, if not for their own, they would work things out; she was already taking the steps to making sure of that by agreeing to this damn trial instead of taking the easier path and simply marching out of the mountain with her son and family in tow as she had every damn right to do so. It was only because she wished to stay and help with the forging of the relationship between father and son that she was even agreeing to the trial at all; otherwise, she would have left the moment she was strong enough to get herself on to a pony. After all, there was no threat to her and Frodo anymore, Bovin was caught and…

Bovin… she never did get out of dwarf who had hired him to steal her and her child from her home, and obviously it wasn't Thorin so who…

"He's locked away." Nori says suddenly by her side, causing her to jump. She hadn't realised she had spoken out loud "him and the rest of them."

"Radin and Radon too?" She asks not quite believing she had forgotten the two half-breed brothers.

Nori sent her a look she doesn't quite understand but doesn't question.

"Don't let them rot." She mutters to him, "They're just boys, boys who are in a terrible situation. All they need is a chance, one more chance and you'll see, they're good boys, clever and quick."

"They won't." Nori promises, "you just say the word and they'll be out, probably be cleaning kitchen pots for a while, but they won't be locked up anymore."

"What are you two whispering about over there?" Dori calls shooting Nori an extremely suspicious look as if believing Nori was trying to convince Bilbo into doing something highly illegal.

"Our burglar has just remembered about her captors," Nori replied with a shrug, causing Bilbo to groan beside him, "I'm just telling her what has become of them."

"Rotting in prison, I hope." Lotho grumbled while Bilbo scowled.

"No! Well… maybe some, but not Radin and Radon, and there were a few others too who were only involved because they were – and probably still are – in desperate situations." She scuffed her palm against her nose and cheek, "I just wish I knew what they wanted?" She muttered more to herself than anyone else, "and who hired them."

She could almost taste the tension in the air, thick enough to cut with Sting. Brushing some curls from her face she peered at them curiously.

"What?"

"Lass," Dwalin started slowly ignoring the warning glares being sent his way by several company members, "Have ya ever heard of Bzog?"

"Bless you." Bilbo said before realizing that Dwalin hadn't actually sneezed.

"Well, that answers that then." Fili said in a quiet voice.

"Bzog?" Bilbo asked, frowning. Bzog, Bzog, Bzog… huh, sounded very much like… "No, no, no."

"Yes," Balin said heavily, "apparently Azog the Defiler has a son."

"Who's dead!" Bilbo retorted, arms crossing firmly across her chest, "Bolg, his son, was crush by Beorn in bear form."

"Thought ya said ya didn't remember the battle." Bofur commented lightly and Bilbo glared at him.

"Gandalf told me." She shot back without even breaking stride as she turned back to Balin, "what? He has another son running around?"

"Apparently."

"Oh, well that's just… wonderful." Bilbo muttered.

"I'm confused." Paladin said, head cocked to one side. Bilbo just shook her head and waved him off feeling the wave of sickness roar through her.

"What does he want?"

"You." every single member of the company said as one.

"Well don't just all come out and say it at once" She grumbled sarcastically.

"This is too much to be taken all in one night." Thorin spoke quietly, speaking through her new layer of fear and turmoil. "Bzog will not be able to get to you here and Bovin and his companions are safely locked away, they cannot harm you or Frodo or the rest of you," he added for her hobbit family members who nodded. "you are safe here." He was speaking directly to her, "no one will harm you."

"I know." She gave a shaking nod even though she felt like she was being weighed down by boulder.

"We'll deal with one thing at a time lass," Balin said comfortingly, "first the trial and then Bovin and Bzog."

"Wonderful. So many things to look forward. Honestly, I can't decide what I'm more looking forward to, standing in front of council of dwarves out for my blood or facing an orc after my head." She had enough sense to look a little ashamed by the annoyed scowls being sent her way.

"Not funny." Kili grouched, her cousins nodding in agreement while other members of the company grumbled away under their breaths.

"My life." Bilbo grumbled, "I can say what I please about it, and making fun of it makes it easier to cope with… unless you'd all rather have a mess of a hobbit lass on your hands."

Frodo wiggled away from Thorin's side and comes to her, arms outstretched, his eyes mournful.

"Sorry, darling heart," She says to him for he is the only one who truly making her regret her harsh words in regards to her current reality, "mama is tired and hungry and that makes her grouchy and sarcastic."

"But you don't mean what you said."

Bilbo shook her head and immediately felt her lad relax against her and along with him the rest of the men in the room. She made a mental note, that from now onwards, to keep all her sarcastic, snarky remarks in regards to her current predicament to herself, since it was quite obvious that neither her family nor her friends would welcome them. She might as well go and find a thread and needle and sew up her mouth now or live with the constant kick-puppy dog looks that were still being sent in her direction. It was ridiculous, truly and soon as this was all over she was going to let them all have it.

She plays with Frodo's curls while her dwarves and hobbits stir themselves into action, setting out the food that has just been brought up to her chambers, organising plates and making room at the table to set the dishes down.

She could see out of the corner of her eye Balin talking quietly with Thorin, both peering over his and Ori's notes that they had made over the course of the day of her account of everything that had happened that had had a hand in branding her traitor and banishing her from Erebor. She could see from the set of Thorin's mouth and hard stone-like quality to his eyes, that Thorin wasn't happy but she wasn't close enough to hear exactly what was being said nor was she brave enough to actually go over and ask what they were talking about.

It suddenly struck her that she had just spent almost a whole afternoon in Thorin's presence and… nothing. No screaming, no tears, no furious rants, from either of them. It was Frodo, of course. It was all because of Frodo. Things would have surely have been different if their son hadn't been there. It just amazed her how… simple it had been, easy even to fall into sense of familiarity with seeing Thorin and Frodo interact, not quite father and son yet, but close, it would be soon now, very soon.

Chapter Text

Thorin knew, the moment he left Billanna's chambers he would be bombard by his fellow lord dwarves. But he received welcomingly delay from such meet by the unexpected arrival of his cousin Dain and his son Thorin Stonehelm who had arrived to the mountain in the late hours of the evening.

"Thorin," Balin sighed, "you can't escape the lords forever. They will demand…"

"Tomorrow," Thorin replied as he marched to the chambers his cousins often stayed in when they visited the Lonely Mountain, "the lords will respect that family and a fellow ruler come first. Even in the matter of Durin's rebirth."

"I doubt that they will agree." Balin responded, "but I will do what I can to appease them for now, but tomorrow… Thorin, they're all yours."

"Thank you so much." Thorin grumbled as he watched his old friend and advisor walked in the direction of the council chambers.

"Come on," Dwalin said, knocking his shoulders against Thorin's, "Let see what has brought Dain back so soon before he was expected. Durin's day is still some time away."

"I can well imagine what has brought him here." Thorin muttered nodding to several of guardsman as they passed. He ignored their looks of awe, their obvious desire to ask if the rumours were true, did Durin truly walk amongst them again and was he truly in the form of Thorin's illegitimate son.

As he and Dwalin approached Dain's chambers they could hear his distinctive booming voice. From the tone of his booming voice, Thorin could tell his cousin, while not angry, had a distinct annoyed tint to it.

He knocked and entered the chambers without waiting for anyone to answer it, before simply standing in the doorway of the chamber, taking in the scene before him.

His cousin was currently towering over his sister, who had her hands pressed firmly on her hips as she glared back up at him. His cousin's son was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, clearly trying to keep a straight face as he watched the glaring match between his father and Dis. The lad wink widely at Thorin as he and Dwalin entered the room.

"Thorin." Dain barked in way of greeting, breaking his glaring match with Dis who had turned her disgruntle scowl upon Thorin.

"Good evening Dain. What brings you here?" Thorin asked, even though he could well guess the answer to his cousin's visit.

"Like ya don't know." Dain snorted, "Heard ya caught Bovin and that he had ya supposedly dead burglar with him."

"Aye."

"Heard ya got yerself a son from her."

"Aye."

His cousin rolled his eyes at him in exasperation.

"See and this here, is why I don't visit so often. Ya lot are such cagey bunch, getting information out of ya is worse than drawing pus from a wound." Dain grumbled, scowling from Thorin to Dis than back again.

"We heard that he is Durin the Deathless reborn." Dain's son questioned Thorin eagerly, his eyes bright with energy and curiousity.

"Helm," Dain rumbled with a sigh, shooting his son a look telling him to be quiet before looking expectantly at Thorin.

Thorin shifted uncomfortably and not for the first time this evening, wished he could have kept his son's identity a secret for just that much longer. Frodo hadn't even been properly introduced to his kingdom as his son yet and now every dwarf in the mountain knew that he was Durin reborn; putting an extra load of pressure upon his son's shoulders. The little boy didn't even fully understand what it meant to be his son, illegitimate or not, let alone what it meant for him to be the reincarnation of Durin.

He wished he could just give his son more time to prepare for both of these things… his mother also, for even though Billanna seemed to have outwardly accepted their son's lot in life, there had been moments throughout the evening when he had caught her staring at their son with a look of overwhelming horror, as if she simply wished to pull him into her arms and never let him go, for fear he might fall beneath the massive destiny he had been dealt by Mahal.

Thorin wondered, and not for the first time, if Mahal had actually put any thought at all when he set Frodo down upon his path, or if he simply continued to throw obstacles and challenges in the boy's way with reckless abandon, not realising that he had probably set the boy upon a road that would cause him a tremendous about of pain and suffering.

Thorin shook his head, trying to clear away his own fears and trepidation in regards to his son's lot in life. They would deal with each day as it came, that was how he would live this life of his, or else be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of madness that was currently coursing through it.

"Indeed." Was all he said.

"Drawing pus from a wound." Dain repeated with growl. "Thorin!"

"What would you have me say, Dain?" Thorin asked his cousin tiredly, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "yes, my burglar is alive and yes she has given me a son, who is indeed Durin the Deathless reborn."

"Ya sure of this?" Dain pressed, his eyes narrowed, "He has the mark?"

"Aye," Dis said quietly, her voice soft with fondness, "on his shoulder, clear as day."

Dain rubbed his beard, his brow forwarded with thought.

"Yer lass," He said to Thorin, "had not a clue, I imagine, aye?"

"No." Thorin shook his head.

"Must have been quite a shock to her." Dain rumpled thoughtfully, "how she coping?"

"Given she only found out all of a couple of hours ago, as well as can be imagine." Dwalin snorted, answering in Thorin's stead, for his ears were suddenly filled with her protests.

"Because it's not possible! He's a dwobbit! Isn't that special enough, unique enough? Why must you place the burden of him being the reincarnation of one of the seven fathers of dwarves, the most famous, the most revered of them all! Durin the Deathless, you cannot be serious. Why…why would he choose to be reborn into a dwobbit? Into Frodo? What can he possibly hope to gain? No, no, no."

"Proud?"

"Not sure she's up to that point yet." Dwalin replied with shrug.

"Her son is Durin…" Helm gapped from where he still sat by the fire.

"Doesn't really matter to her laddie," Dwalin told the young dwarf, "she's a hobbit; Durin means almost nothing to her. Well, until now."

"So she wouldn't not have told ya about the lad because of this?" Dain asked Thorin, note of cautiousness to his voice.

"No." Thorin said in a tight voice, his tone speaking a warning. Though as usual, his cousin took little heed of it and pressed on.

"So why keep it a secret?" Dain asked looking around at them all, "I know it's her right as his mother whether she accepts ya as his father or not, but no word that she birthed yer son? That's a little harsh, no matter what transpired between tha two of ya."

"It is complicated." Thorin said quietly ignoring the heavy ache in his chest. "She planned to send him to us… to me when he turned thirty-three."

Seeing the confused look on his cousin's face he elaborated.

"Hobbits reach full maturity at thirty-three. And if the lad wished to meet me when he came of age, no one could say that he could not because he would be of age, an adult."

"Does he age like a hobbit?" Dain asked curiously. Now that his initial annoyance over his lack information had subsided, his natural curiosity was burning threw, his questions now coming from a genuine place of interest. "or a dwarf."

"We do not know yet." Thorin admitted, not liking at all how little they did know about his unique little son, "his intelligence is beyond the years of both hobbits and dwarves, but his size maybe that of dwarfling in his early to mid-twenties."

"Heard he's a splitting image of ya when ya were a dwarfling."

"There is… some resemblance. No one would be on a strong foot if they were to try and argue that I did not sire him. But he is his mother's son." Dain continued to look curious so Thorin continued, "he has the colourings of those of the line of Durin, but possesses the feet and ears of hobbits and possibly the height too, but as of yet, we cannot be sure."

Dain looked positively fascinated.

"Can I meet him?" Dain asked and Thorin knew his cousin was asking not as Lord of the Iron Hills, requesting to look upon the one who would appear to be Durin reborn, but rather as a family member and a father in his own right, who was delighting that Durin's line had another child born to its linage. Thorin was let out a silent sigh of relief at this. He had feared some his cousin reaction to the news of Frodo and his being Durin reborn but now he saw his fear was unfounded, his cousin would not be a threat to Frodo or Billanna. If anything he might prove to be an ally to them… he hoped.

"I believe Billanna has put him to bed, he's had quite an exhausting day."

"I dare say." Dain boomed. "Poor laddie. He coping alright, or did he know already?"

"No," Thorin shook his head, "he didn't have any idea. He was quite frightened at first to the reactions he received in the markets; he didn't understand what was happening. Now that it has been, more or less, explained to him, he is accepting this part of him."

"Does he know you're his…?"

Thorin snorted with fond amusement.

"Aye, he does. To attest to just how smart the lad is, he figured it out, all by himself, that I was his father." He felt his pride grow within his chest and fought back a smile when he saw Dain, Helm and Dwalin all smirking at him while Dis was giving him an affectionate look. He looked away from them all with a grunt.

"Look at him, proud father already." Dain boomed. "Tomorrow then? I think I would quite like to meet this little lad who can ruin Thorin Oakenshield fierce, stone face reputation with a single swoop. And his mother too, for I am sure she must be quite the character to catch yer eye."

"Oh," But Dis and Dwalin were answering Dain before Thorin had a chance to open his mouth, "she is." They both smirked widely back at him while he glared at them. Dain let out a bark of laughter as Thorin crossed his across his chest, still scowling but inwardly he felt no true ire, mainly only relief. Billanna and Frodo were both being accepted by Dain and his son. And he was sure that upon meeting them, Dain would become a strong ally to them.

Chapter Text

"NO!"

She sat bolt upright in bed, a scream still dancing in her throat as her son's frantic, frighten yelps blasted her ears from where he was pressed up against her. Her scream ended with a squeak as she forced herself to calm down as she tried to sooth her son.

"Frodo. Frodo." She caught his shoulders, "Frodo, shush, it's alright, everything is all…."

Her chamber door flew open with a crack causing the pair to let out joint shrieks of fright.

"Mama!" Frodo whined as Thorin, and half a dozen guards came barrelling into the chamber, "Mama, please stop doing that. Tell her to stop doing that!" This was directed at Thorin who was surveying the chamber with dark eyes, a knife gleaming in his hands.

"You can go." Thorin barked to the guards once he was certain that there was no threat in the room threatening to kill them. The guards bowed and retreated, closing the chamber door behind them while Thorin remained staring at mother and son sitting up in bed.

Bilbo felt her cheeks warm at the sight of him, while Frodo simply grumbled beside her, obviously too tired and grouchy from his abrupt awaking to put his usual enthusiasm forward at the sight of Thorin.

"Are you both well?" Thorin asked quietly, his tone cautious as he returned his knife to his belt.

"We're fine." Bilbo replied quickly ignoring Frodo's continued grumbles, "I'm sorry," she added, speaking over her son's muttering, "I'm sorry for causing such a fuss. Won't happen again." Hopefully she added silently to herself.

She rubbed her face and was horrified to find her cheeks wet. She had been crying in her sleep again, and with the small oil lamp still glowing by her bedside table, Thorin (and his guards also) could probably see that she had been. She hastily wiped the tears streaks away, trying to ignore the fact that Thorin was watching her do this. She had half the mind to tell him to go away, but wasn't sure how to word her request without him taking offense. He had after all come rushing to rescue her from a then unknown foe.

She placed a hand over her still pounding heart, trying to remind it that this Thorin, the one currently standing in her chambers was not the Thorin of her nightmares nor was he the Thorin in the throes of the gold-sickness.

Frodo was still muttering (and giving off the odd sniffle) as he curled back into bed, his eyes already starting to flutter close. Bilbo betted that he would be sound asleep in minutes, despite the fright that had caused him to wake so suddenly from his slumber only moments ago. She wished she could be like that, but the thought of sleep, of dreaming utterly terrified her at that very moment and she found she wasn't even the slightest bit tired anymore. Heart still beating at a faster rate than normal she pushed herself out of the bed, rubbing her face as she did so, wiping away the last of her tears, leaving her face feeling vaguely raw and sticky.

She was just thinking of splashing her face when she remembered that she and Frodo were not the only creatures in her chambers. Hands coming to rest upon her hips she stared questioningly at the King under the Mountain who was still standing in the middle of her room watching her with an almost unreadable expression. It took her another moment to remember she was dressed in a sleeping shift, a very long and heavy shift, but a shift no less. She forced back her embarrassment over her state undress (because honestly, the child in her bed was proof of exactly how undressed she has been around the dwarf in front of her) to instead ask him in a clip tone, "Can I help you with something?"

"You screamed." He replied in a similar cool tone.

"Yes, and I said that I was sorry about that." She retorted back, arms crossing against her chest, "won't happen again."

"Won't it?" Thorin asked, eyebrows raised, crossing his own arms across his chest.

Bilbo stared at him, trying to gauge exactly what he was thinking, what he might want.

"Hopefully... I don't know." she admitted shrugging her shoulders. She glanced over at Frodo who, as she had predicted was fast asleep, though his little face she could see was twisted into the tiniest of frowns. Maybe she wouldn't try to sleep again tonight, to avoid waking Frodo again. He hadn't been easy to settle when bedtime had come around, whining that he wasn't tired and battling her the whole time while she tried getting him ready for bed. And once she had finally gotten him tucked into bed, he had tossed and turned, barely dozing. He hadn't said, but she suspected that the revelation to him being the reincarnation of Durin the Deathless was bothering him far more than he was letting on.

"Come," Thorin said suddenly drawing her out of her thoughts. She blinked back at him, surprised to see him gesturing for her to follow him.

"Where?"

"For a walk." He replied simply though she swore she could see his ears turning pink, "you look as if you could use some fresh air."

She stared at him, a little dumbfounded.

"Am…am I allowed? To leave these chambers I mean? I thought I was rather under house arrest, you know, until my trial is over and done with."

"No," Thorin shook his head, "not quite. It was simply believed that until things have been… worked out, sorted, it would be best to keep you and your family out of sight."

"Out of mind?" She offered dryly and before she could stop her tongue, she added, "While Frodo can walk freely around markets and the city?" She watched him struggle for a moment, a silent battle obviously raging within himself on how to answer her before she waved him off, "oh, forget it. Now, what did you say about fresh air? Is it very far?" as she spoke, she was pulling on a dressing gown. Not that it is actually a dressing gown, she thinks vaguely to herself as she ran a hand over the fabric, rather, it is more like a very soft coat, with lovely wool lining.

"Not too far." Thorin finally answered her. She nodded once before glancing back at her sleeping child as she walked past Thorin and out of the chamber.

She blinked in surprise as she watched Thorin lock the chamber door with a key that had been tucked inside one of his coat's pockets.

Seeing her look of surprise as he tucked the key back into his coat, he shrugged.

"If he wakes and finds you gone, do you not think he will try and find you?"

"So your solution is to lock him in?" Bilbo questioned in a dry tone.

"Yours isn't?"

"Hobbits aren't true believers in locked doors." Bilbo retorted primly before remembering who she was talking to and felt her heart give an unsteady beat. Why was it so easy to fall back into… whatever it was they had had before every turned so terribly, terribly sour?

"Well, dwarves are." Thorin replied obviously missing, or maybe he was simply letting pass without comment, her sudden return to nervousness around him. "And this dwarf has spent quite a number of hours searching this mountain up and down for that wayward child because he has escaped unlocked rooms."

"He's curious." Bilbo defended her child briskly

"Haven't you ever heard what happened to the cat?"

Bilbo rolled her eyes back at him, once more forgetting herself.

"It was from stupidity, not curiosity that killed it. And Frodo is anything but stupid."

"Aye," Thorin nodded and Bilbo was pleased to see a proud gleam in his eyes, "he is not."

They walked in oddly companionable silence, reminding her not of the time when they had been most intimate but rather of when she had spent days upon days sitting outside his cell in Thranduil's kingdom, leaning against the bars, feeling his back against hers from where he sat on the other side of the cell door.

It was in those days that she had realised she loved him and that he… was quite fond of her too. They had spent a lot of those days, when she hadn't been exploring the underground labyrinth for a way of escaping with thirteen dwarves unseen, just sitting in silence. Not an echoing silence but companionable silence, comforting almost. They had talked also. He had told her about Erebor, the childhood he had had within the great stone halls and of the times after Smaug had desolated it; of the battles he had fought in, the ones he won and those he had lost, of the time he had spent without a permanent home acting as a travelling blacksmith working for pittance, sending every coin back to his sister and nephews. And in return, she had told him of her life in the Shire, her childhood shenanigans, of her almost overwhelming grief when her mother passed away and of the quiet fury towards her father when he had fallen into his almost death-like state of being, leaving her to face dark times when she had felt she had lost both parents instead of just one and she was utterly alone in the world. She had told him of her constant struggle for independence, to prove once and for all, she did not need husband to keep her family wealth and lands in check, that she was quite well equip to do all that herself, thank you very much. And lastly, she spoke of her would-have been marriage if he and his company had not turned up at her door the very night before her wedding, of how she had finally given in to the pressure from her family to marry and be done with it, to secure her line and legacy, that marrying Lotho was a good match.

As she had not judged him on what he had told her of his past, he passed no judgement upon her and from those quiet moments, something had grown. She had told him things she had never breathed to anyone else, some she had barely allowed herself to think of before banishing the whispers to the far reaches of her mind. She was certain that he had done the same; spoken of things to her he had not shared with his sister, Balin or Dwalin, those who were closest to him.

She had actually grown to miss those moments once they had escaped from Thranduil's dungeons and were once more travelling towards their goal. She had missed those quiet moments of sharing words or simply each other's presences. Everything seemed to become quite rushed once they reached Lake Town, spinning quite beyond either of their control and while she does not regret for a moment the intimate moments they had had together there, she did wish they hadn't lost the verbal closeness they had shared during those weeks trapped in a prison cell. Maybe if they hadn't, things might have transpired differently…

No, she couldn't start thinking over the what-if's, they would do her no good but cause her further heartache.

She was drawn from her heavy thoughts by a sudden change to the air around her; it was suddenly fresher with a different kind of chilliness to it. She looked around her hopefully and almost broke into a run when she saw a light that was most definitely not made from touch light. The moon! The stars! Endless openness, no walls, no ceilings, nothing but the world caught between earth and sky.

With an almost fugitive grin, she picked up her pace to a brisk jog, desperate to fill her lungs with air that wasn't filtered around the vast chambers within the mountain, to feel the wind upon her face. Stepping outside, into the open air was almost like the first splashes of cold water she used to wash her face in the morning, to fully shake the sleep away. A complete shock to the system before becoming refreshing, reviving every nerve in her body, snapping her into a state of being fully awake.

She breathed in deeply, eyes closed, shivering in silent delight as the cold air filled her lungs and tingled her throat. She would be freezing within a few minutes, but she would happily take the cold if it meant she could breathe in fresh air for longer than a few moments.

She stepped out on to the battlements and for a one very terrible moment, she thought that he had brought her to those battlements, the ones above the great front gates of Erebor where everything had gone so terribly wrong and…

But no, he hadn't. She could see them, from where she was now leaning against the low stone wall, down below them, night guards marching dutifully upon it.

She swallowed thickly and looked away. Why look down when you could look up and out. Up at the crescent moon and star filled sky or out into the direction of the rebuilt Dale, her buildings once more standing proudly against the night sky.

She could sense Thorin standing behind her, but she did not turn to look back at him, instead, she rested her head down upon her arms, which were crossed on top of the wall, letting out a small content sigh.

"Oin says that you've refused to take the sleeping draft to help you sleep." Thorin spoke suddenly, his tone cautious. Bilbo rolled her eyes.

"That's right."

"He also says that you're refusing to talk over your battle dreams."

"Oin needs to learn to keep his mouth shut." Bilbo grunted, rubbing her cheek against her folded arms.

"He is concerned for you. We… we are all concerned for you."

"They're just nightmares." Bilbo growled, even though they were so much more than that.

"What you suffer from are more than just simple nightmares." Thorin rumbled gently behind her, "there is no shame in speaking of them."

"I'm not ashamed of them." She snapped, whirling around to face him, "I'm not!" She insisted when he simply raised an eyebrow back at her. "It's complicated!" She growled when he still stared at her with his calm, waiting gaze, she continued shrilly, "It's not like I enjoy having them! Do you think I like having them every single night? Waking up and not knowing if I'm still dreaming or not, so caught up in my dreams that I don't know what's real and what is not. If I thought for a moment speaking of them with someone would help I would have, only…" She looked away from her face twisting in anger, "it's complicated."

"Explain to me how they are complicated." She scowled at the dwarf who was now casually leaning against the stone wall beside him, watching her with calm, patient eyes. "What makes them so complicated that you feel that you cannot share them?"

"I… It – they just are!"

"Why?"

"Because I very much doubt that talking about them will help!" She snapped finally.

Thorin shook his dark head, the lines of silver in his hair glinting in the moonlight.

"You do not know that."

"Oh," She muttered sarcastically, looking away from him and back out at the world, "and I'm sure you speak of your nightmares, your battle dreams to others, huh?"

"I do," Thorin replied sincerely, "to those I trust most; Balin, Dwalin, my sister. I've talk of them with Fili and Kili, for they have seen their own share of horror which now invade their minds at night. It is hard, at first, but with time it will help."

Bilbo shook her head, frustrated that the infuriating dwarf in front of her would not simply drop the matter. The Thorin she had known during the quest would not have pressed her so hard to speak of such things.

"Billanna."

"I don't want to talk about it." She huffed furiously, "I hate even having to think about my nightmares, remembering the reasons behind why I have them. I hate it so badly! And yet, everyone wants me to talk about it. How do you think talking about something that I desperately, desperately just want to forget will help in the slightest? Tell me how?"

"Because the way you are currently dealing with them is no way to cope with the terrible things you have seen, no way for you to live the rest of your life."

She shrugged.

"Speak of them with me."

"Huh?" She looked back at him with wide, panic filled eyes. He met her eyes with a determined gaze.

"Speak of your nightmares with me."

"That's what I thought you said." She choked, "No, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because you don't want to hear them!"

"Because I am a part of your nightmares?" Thorin guessed quietly. She looked away from him, heart pounding.

"Billanna," Thorin continued gruffly, "I do not remember all of the crimes that I committed when I was in the throes of the gold sickness…"

"Maybe that's a blessing." She interrupted him quietly. Why was he doing this? Why couldn't he just let it go, all of it? Why he could he not just leave it all in the past, where it belonged?

"No," She looked up at him at his fierce tone, taking in his angry eyes and clenched fists, "No, it is no blessing. I would have myself knowing every crime I committed while I was under the gold sickness's thrall."

"And you want to hear it from me?" She squeaked in horror.

"You have nightmares about what I did, what I did to you."

She shook her head, furiously.

"My nightmares aren't just about… just about that!" She squeaked desperately, desperate for him to just let go of this conversation. She stared up into his face and groaned.

"You're not going to stop are you? Let it go?" She buried her face into her hands.

"You need to speak with them to someone, and since I'm partially to blame for your suffering, I…" He replied in a gruff tone that was obviously fighting to hide deeper emotions.

"Argh!" She ran her fingers through her hair, "why do you care so much? I mean, I can understand your wish to know what occurred during your time under the gold sickness, but why me? Why does it have to be me? Why do I have to be the one to tell you? Ask the others, any of the others! They can tell you."

Thorin let out a small, bitter laugh as he shook his head.

"You truly are a ridiculous creature."

Something inside of her, some old fury half forgot beneath grief and pain, rose to the surface, causing her to snap.

"Ridiculous? How am I ridiculous?" She screeched, her voice growing high in pitch, "There is nothing wrong with not wanting to remembering terrible things, not wanting to speak of them. Don't you understand? I don't want to deal with these things. I never have! I just want to be allowed to forget! Forget and not remember, not ever again. For goodness sakes, I'm a hobbit! I'm not supposed to have these things," She pointed wildly at her head, "in my head at all! I just want to forget! Why can no one understand that!"

"Because you will never forget," Thorin replied gruffly, "you will never forget, not truly, and by not talking about it, all those memories, all those emotions will grow and fester within you. It will kill you!"

"And who would care?" She was all but shrieking at him now, her heart pounding and eyes wild "who would honestly care if I died! I've made so many mistakes, caused so much damaged just by trying to be clever. There are so many deaths on my hands, so much blood! So much death that when I stop to think of them I can't breathe, I can't move. Those lives, in Laketown and during the Battle of Five Armies, are gone from this world forever, never to breathe again! My nightmares? Nothing compared to that. Nothing compared to the loss of their lives, the loss to their families. Nothing that I suffer at night can compare to their loss of life! Nothing! For the rest of my life, I'll have their deaths of my hands. And when I die… no one will mourn…"

She was cut off by Thorin suddenly grabbing her, catching her face in his hands and kissing her fiercely on the mouth, his soft beard scratching gently against her chin.

She choked against him mouth before her knees began to wobble. He pulled away before her brain properly processed what had just happened. Breathing heavily, she only just managed to grab his coat in her fingers to keep herself upright as she leant against his chest.

"Don't" He growled into her hair, "Don't ever say such a thing. Don't you dare even think such things."

She swallowed thickly against his chest and gave a jerky nod. He had kissed her… he had kissed her!

"You need to speak of these things," Thorin continued gruffly into her hair, "to someone, anyone, I don't care who, just don't allow it to fester inside of your heart."

She gave another nod against his chest, breathing heavily.

He had kissed her! Why had he kissed her?

He let go of her and she stepped back and away from him. In the dim light, she could see that his ears were ever so slightly red.

To save them both from further embarrassment, she went back to leaning upon the wall and staring out into aging night.

It was when the sun peaked over that they made the slow progress back to her chambers.

"The council has requested a meeting with Frodo." Thorin said suddenly into the stillness of the corridor they were walking along.

"Because of yesterday?" She asked quietly.

"Yes." Thorin nodded, "My cousin, Dain has also asked for a meeting with the both of you."

She looked at him for a moment in alarm

"Nothing to fear," Thorin continued calmly, "he is genuinely interested in meeting the both of you."

"Alright." She sighed, "So, who will be first? Dain or your council?"

"Dain," Thorin said after a moment.

"The worst first?" she quipped, trying desperately to hide her nerves.

"I was rather thinking the easier meeting first. Dain, I am sure, will be an ally to you."

"To Frodo?"

"And to you also." Thorin added calmly as he pulled out the key to her chambers out of his coat pocket and opened her door.

She walked into her room, relieved to see that Frodo was still sound asleep, though the small sniffling noise he was making did worry her some. Hopefully, a full fledge cold was not on the horizon for her son.

She bit down upon her lip, wondering if she would be able to find the ingredients to make her preventative cold medicine. She would have to speak with Oin; hopefully when she saw Balin later in the morning, he would pass on a message to Oin for him to get all the ingredients she needed to make her cold medicine and possibly, he would even help her make it.

"What is it?" Thorin asked, watching her face closely.

She shook her head, seeing no need to worry him needlessly. Hopefully Frodo would get over his sniffles quickly and there would be no cause to worry anyone. She knew how rarely dwarves themselves became ill and when they did… well, it wasn't too long before they were walking in the halls of their ancestors. So of course the common cold was all but unheard to them and knowing her particular dwarves as she did, she had a strong feeling they would blow Frodo's little cold well out of portion.

"I will leave you to rest." Thorin said suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts.

She nodded her head, not quite meeting his eyes.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" She muttered before he left her chambers.

"Hmmm?"

"You knew that if you pushed and kept pushing, I would grow angry and snap."

"I suspected," Thorin replied, "not that this is the end of it of course." She sighed heavily. "Billanna, you have to talk to someone about your nightmares. I don't care who, just someone."

"Fine…" She muttered, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Billanna."

She gave him a look causing him to give an exasperated sigh in return.

"We will talk on this later. Now, try and get some more rest. Someone will be by later to bring you and Frodo to meet with Dain and the council."

"Alright." Bilbo said, "Well, I'll guess I'll see you soon then."

"Yes," she jumped as he ran his hand gently against her cheek bone before leaving her chamber without another word. She clutched a hand to where Thorin had caressed the skin tingling from his touch.

What did it mean? What did it all mean?

She walked back to the bed, laying the dressing gown across the arm of the chair as she did so. She clambered into bed beside Frodo, who still sniffling softly, rolled over to bury himself against her side. Wrapping her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his curls, she closed her eyes, praying silently that she would be able to have an hour or two of peaceful slumber.

Her last thought before slumber took hold was of the unexpected kiss Thorin had given her. Of course, he had done it to shut her up, but still… she fell asleep with a small smile playing upon her mouth.

Chapter Text

Bilbo played nervously with ties of the lovely blue and silver over gown she wore over top of a soft, loose cream dress.

"What we doing Mama?" Frodo asked, tugging gently on her hand as they walked down an unfamiliar stone corridor, led by Fili with Nori walking behind them. As a rear guard, Bilbo thought grimly before turning her attention back on Frodo who was still tugging on her hand persistently.

"We're… we're meeting with some people, some very important people, so we must be on our best behaviour, yes?"

Frodo cocked his head to one side as he stared up at her.

"Will Thorin be there?" He asked, rubbing a hand against his nose as he sniffed.

"Aye, laddie." Nori said from behind them, "he'll be there. Along with Balin, Dwalin and I do believe Lady Dis."

"Yes," Fili said, looking back at them, "Mother will be there also." Bilbo felt her tense shoulders relax a little. Knowing that Dis would be present for whatever this meeting was calmed a good many of Bilbo nerves, if for no other reason that Bilbo knew or suspected that Dis was very good a keeping a large group of angry dwarves under control. And Bilbo suspected that, upon the meeting with Thorin's council, there would be a good many angry dwarves to contend with.

Fili knocked upon a large oak door which opened after the second knock and Bilbo walked in with Frodo, who was pressed against her side, sniffling against her skirt. After this meeting, she really would have to talk to Oin about acquiring the ingredients she needed for her cold medicine.

The chamber they had entered were very simple, a fireplace, a table and some chairs, another oak door stood closed on her right. A very simple chamber indeed but it was the characters standing around it that made it interesting.

Thorin and Balin immediately looked up from the papers they had been pouring over on the table as they entered and Dis smiled welcoming at them both from where she stood by the fireplace, but Bilbo took little heed of them as she stared at the two dwarves standing at the table with Thorin, their heads still bent over the papers. The youngest dwarf, she did not know, but he looked quite a bit like a Kili, only with a much heavier build and fuller black beard. The older dwarf, while they had never been formally introduced, she knew perfectly well who he was even if Thorin hadn't told her earlier that morning that she would be meeting him.

He hadn't changed much from the last time she had seen him… well, except for the blood. There was of course no blood covering him this time round. But still, the same mass reddish grey locks covering every inch of his head were the same, as were the intelligent eyes staring back at her now under a heavy brow. He was a broad shouldered dwarf, broader of shoulder than Thorin and of a similar height to Dwalin. He looked to be just as menacing as Dwalin had the first time she had met him upon her doorstep all those years ago.

He didn't know her, didn't know that they had both, at different times during the Battle of Five Armies saved each other's lives, and yet, the way he was looking at her now, with those dark, intelligent eyes made her seriously start to wonder if he did, indeed, know of her part during the battle.

She swallowed nervously as Dwalin closed the door behind them with a sharp click. She stood as straight she possibly could with her child clinging to her for dear life. It was unusual for Frodo to be so shy around strangers, but given what he had had to deal with just yesterday and that he appeared to be coming down with a cold, Bilbo could not fault him for being more clinging that usual.

"So," Dain was moving around the table and walked towards her and Frodo with calculated steps, his brow forwarded as he stared them both down, "this is the hobbit."