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The first and last time he saw them he was in his twenty-seventh year by Shire reckoning, a wild tween by all accounts. He was just returning from a trek around Long Cleeve with Hamfast and after parting ways at the fork between their two smials he continued on to Bag End alone.
He whistled a merry toon he had heard at the Green Dragon the night before until he was almost upon the steps of his familial home, reaching for the door knob he noticed it was open a crack. Rolling his eyes he made note to himself to remind his Da to make sure the door was properly latched. It was the only ongoing fight his parents had to his knowledge.
His bearer would wash the smial from top to bottom and within minutes of his Da leaving the door open enough dirt would blow in to choke a worm. On one memorable occasion Old Took’s prized gander trapped her in the kitchen for half a day before he and his Da came home from a day of fishing and chased it away.
Padding over to his bearers glory box he pulled his cleaning brush from the shelf behind it and quickly brushed his legs and feet of any dirt and debris. As he was straightening back up he a sound that made him take pause.
A deep rumbling growl coming from the area of the den. Snatching up a walking stick from the corner he silently tiptoed as quickly as he dared to peek around the corner of the room. Even now he can still remember that first taste rancid taste of adrenaline mixed with fear as if it happened moments ago. His thoughts fired rapidly as he jumped from one conclusion to the next. ‘Thieves like from his Da’s books-Dwarves-Dwarven thieves! Where were his parents were they tied up somewhere? Where they dead?!’
His memories after that have always been jumbled. A mix of charging with a cry and whacking the nearest dwarve in the side, his bearers soft voice gone sharp with shock and then his heart stilling in shock as his bearer explained in careful words that the dwarve he just whacked was in fact not an intruder but one half of the soul name that was written into his wrist.
Movement from the other two had long since frozen but he still didn’t turn around, not daring to initiate the bond. Instead he chose to stare at the wall above and behind his bearers head with single minded determination. A voice deeper than anything he had heard the pleasure of ever hearing before rumbled into the thick silence. “Will you not meet eyes with us?” He thrust his wrist out awkwardly behind him, “Is it yours?” his eyes snapped shut when he heard heavy footsteps advancing towards him. A huge calloused hand caught his wrist and pulled him around, gently tracing part of the letters. “Aye that they are, here’s mine and here’s Thorin’s.” The second voice was more graveled than the first but no less pleasing and he felt an involuntary shiver race up his spine.
Distantly he heard the smials door open and his bearer retreat to meet his Da’s voice before the door opened and closed again. He felt a second set of hands take his other wrist and tentatively massage it, the opposite wrist quickly received the same treatment. After a few heartbeats of silence he noted that they seemed to be waiting for him to make the first move. He supposed that was fair considering they were the ones to come find him and he was the one hiding his eyes from them.
Taking a deep breath he opened his eyes. The feeling of missing puzzle pieces fitting together felt sublime and by the twin heated expressions he was receiving they felt the same. He felt his ears and cheeks begin to heat with an embarrassing blush as they crowded close and bumped foreheads with him. Flicking his eyes back and fourth between them he observed them the best he could as close as they were to him.
They were gorgeous. The one on the right had a wild mane of pitch black hair with a regale face and eyes bluer than a midsummer afternoon sky. The one to his left a warrior from what a could gather from the knuckle dusters and what looked to be full battle armor. Complete with mohawk and scalp tattoos.
He felt a mix of emotions, the most prevalent of which was a heated coiling in his lower belly and a happiness so strong it brought tears to his eyes. Pulling his hands away he brought them to their cheeks and stepped even closer until he could feel ridges and points digging into him. “You found me.” They exchanged soft smiles before as one they stepped back and bowed “Thorin-“ ”And Dwalin” “At your service.”
He sighed in delight and ushered them towards a grouping of chairs and couches in the center of the room. Over the next few hours they spoke of every subject imaginable, his parents joining in as they served lunch and then the numerous meals into dinner. The dwarves seemed flabbergasted at how much they ate only seeming more shocked when assured that everyone in the Shire took this many meals. They decided on only taking the normal two meals that men had instead of the four late day meals the hobbits would partake in.
When the Thorin and Dwalin made mention of the late hour and still needing to go to the inn they were given a room at the end farthest from his rooms and an invitation to stay as long as they liked. If the guarded looks between the two were noticed they weren’t mentioned. Over the next week the inhabitants of the Shire welcomed them with open arms and smiles and commented to him on it. He told them the truth, many including his parents had despaired him ever finding his soulbonds. But that it mattered not as they had found him.
If their twin smiles were tinged with sadness he didn’t mention it. The twosome quickly turned into a threesome and except when Dwalin and Thorin were in the makeshift smithy they had set up, they were always with Bilbo and nigh on inseparable. One night before dinner he eavesdropped on his soulbonds carefully questioning his bearer on whether he was a beta or omega. He listened for a few moments more after she left as they delighted to each other and if he noticed from the shadows looks of sorrow mar the happiness a bit, well, he didn’t mention it.
Four days before their first complete month in the shire they took him aside to a hidden spot under a weeping willow in Bag Ends garden and told him of Thorin’s true parentage and their oncoming quest. They assured him the best they could that the group of dwarves they had gathered were fine warriors well up to the task including Thorin’s sister-husband and Dwalin’s older brother. They did not assure him that all would be fine but if he noticed he did not mention it. The three spent a few more hours lazing in the sun warmed grass with him cuddled between them as they whispered all manner of things into his ears.
Some of them quite dirty, not that his blushes did anything but eg them on as they showered him in lazy kisses and braided his hair with intricate knots and special beads. When his Da finally called for him they reluctantly stood and left their sanctuary. That night as they sat around the den in comfy chairs they broke the news to his parents. For a moment the dwarves bore the shrewd stare of his bearer with only slightly trepidatious looks. “I know how hard it is to come back to though’s you care for on an adventure, I had my share when I was younger with a wizard and learned that well.” And that was all that was said on the matter even as the dwarves gathered supplies to take their leave in the days after.
When the fourth day dawned bright and clear he walked them to Bag Ends gate and sent them away with kisses and wishes for safe travels. They never looked back and he couldn’t look away even when they passed a bend in the road and were taken from his sight. He stayed there for the remainder of the day and it was only when his parents came to get him at dark that he let his eyes break from the path that had carried them away from him.
When they tried to comfort him he lurched away with a mad cackle. “I’m never going to see them again! This was it and now their gone.” He turned on his heel and fled back into Bag End and the safety of his room not coming out for the next three days but for the occasional meal his bearer left out for him. But as it always does life moved on and it came as no real surprise to him when two months later he felt the bonds that had always been faint but had always been their sever one right after the other.
He took to bed for a week and when he rose it was to don the widows clothes. A week after a pregnant dwarrowdam also in mourning colors showed up on Bag Ends doorstep that bore such a close resemblance to Thorin that he had no doubts when she spoke her lineage that she was who she said she was. She stayed for but an hour and bore him more grim tidings, most of the company had perished including her husband and Dwalins brother. They had all died in a senseless war with trying to protect the gold from the race of men and elves.
Not even because of the fucking dragon but because of greed. Apparently the Kings of the surviving two factions took their fill of the gold and were now allowing the dwarves to come home which was where she was headed to with her son and a group of dwarves who were waiting up the road for her. She didn’t offer to take him with her and he didn’t ask.
After she left he sat heavily on the couch he, Dwalin and Thorin had taken as their own and thought of everything he had lost. No little dwobbits. Tortures one day false heats that could never be fulfilled, no cuddles. No Thorin. No Dwalin. Just unending loneliness. The fell winter came that year and his parents spirits left with it as did many others. It was just another layer to add to his pain. Thankfully no one disputed his claim on his home and with the exception of his cousin Otho and Hamfast and their soulbonds he stayed alone and rarely socialized. That is until the day Hamfast came to his home with little Frodo in tow and legal documents stating that he was to go to Bilbo.
It was odd to have someone to mourn with only this time when the mourning period was over Frodo forced him to go out and begin life anew. When Frodo and Hamfast’s son Sam woke one morning with each others name in brilliant colors across their skin Bilbo threw a party for them the likes of which had never been seen in the shire. Soon after he began commissioning workers to build a new wing onto Bag End for the future happy couple.
Twenty-eight years flew by as if they were nothing and when Sam and Frodo’s bonding ceremony came to pass he enacted his plan and stole away the same night like a burglar. He soon found a caravan in Bree going to Erabor and bought his way a place with them. It took a month and a half to reach the surrounding area. That was three days ago. As soon as the caravan had dispersed in Dale he had continued on his way to the mountain itself and upon reaching it hid himself away in a small cave.
Once he let himself truly feel the dead bond the fading he had always been able to hold off had taken hold and he knew that within the hour he would finally perish. He laid there thinking pleasant thoughts of that day under the willow tree so many years ago surrounded by his soulbonds and warmth. He knew he was finally there when his vision blackened and he felt weightlessness.
And so ends the days of Bilbo Baggins