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Thorin Oakenshield was a great a mighty king that his people claimed with pride, and he was determined to be worthy of this praise. After the years of struggle and homelessness, and his near destruction via insanity brought by the Arkenstone, Thorin felt it dire to embody humility as leader.
He donned earthy colours, with of course some elements of Durin Blue, he wore simple metals like brass and silver. He did not dress gaudily or extravagantly.
But dwarves are a proud crafting people. Especially after the reclamation of Erebor, they desired to shower their king in gifts of the finest their hands could create, to show the world they had not forgotten their skill. It would be an insult to refuse such gifts, but Thorin was stubborn beyond comparison. Luckily enough, Balin proffered a simple solution.
Consort of Under the Mountain: Bilbo Baggins. Many were touched by the hobbits refusal to leave their kings side after his near fatal battle with Azog, and the company spread rumours (perhaps somewhat exaggerated) of his bravery and ingenuity on their journey which earned him the respect of many others. But it was the life debt, that King Thorin declared he owed Bilbo upon awakening, that gained him the acknowledgement of all.
Tales of the many times Consort Baggins had saved the life of his husband, and had proven his loyalty to all dwarves by being integral in reclaiming the mountain, were now commonplace. The historian charged with recording these events being our very own Ori perhaps contributed to this biased telling also.
So when, shortly after Thorin’s offical coronation and during the peak of Erebors’s rebuilding, the king proposed to the renowned hero, praise arose through the entire kingdom.
Which is how Bilbo became known as the Treasure of Erebor, to not just his husband.
—
“Kili!” Bilbo’s yell stopped the prince in his tracks, “Would you care to explain why I’ve just been congratulated for my feat of fighting and beating a troll with only my bare hands?” The hobbit continued with deceptive composure. Kili knew well enough that Bilbo’s polite and calm facade really meant his temper was bubbling hotly below.
“That wasn’t me!” Hw exclaimed unjustly. It really wasn’t, Kili had spread the one about Bilbo defeating a stone giant during a thunderstorm with only a dagger.
Bilbo stared at his nephew with suspicion, but decided to relent under that sad puppy dog stare.
“Really, these rumours are getting out of hand. You all need to work harder to quell them and stick to the facts!”
“Bilbo, you can’t begrudge the mountain tales of their hero though!” Fili jumped out from the corner to exclaim.
“If I remember correctly, there were twelve other brave heroes on that journey whose tales are not being spread so grandly.” Bilbo stated, glaring at the mischievous pair.
“Can’t help it, I’m afraid. We’re a humble folk, us dwarves.” Now Bofur had appeared from thin air to join in.
“As if I’ve ever met a more prideful lot!” Bilbo scoffed, “I’m glad the three of you have gathered though. I need to have words with you!” The previously bold trio lowered their heads in embarrassment; they could guess what they were going to hear.
Just as the blond was about to begin his lecture on rumour mongering and acting like the the most gossipy of his cousins back home, he noticed the awestruck stares of passing dwarves and realised a more private venue was more appropriate.
He should have predicted as such earlier, since Bilbo couldn’t help but attract attention in his current state.
As Consort, it seemed to have been decided that he must attire himself like a walking treasure chest.
A golden crown centring a radish sized sapphire and featuring an assortment of other jewels sat atop his head, held in place by braids. The rest of his golden hair carried various braids and beads of significance and luxury, his favourite being his marriage braid and bead created by his husband’s hand.
His fingers were adorned with rings, his neck layered with necklaces, his clothes made by the finest tailors, brooches upon his vest from renowned jewellers, even his buttons were creations of the most talented blacksmiths.
None in all of Under the Mountain could claim to dress as finely as their Consort.
It was all very overwhelming at first, as a proper gentlehobbit Bilbo had always dressed respectably, but the sheer number of gifts he was expected to adorn himself with was astonishing. He’d claimed another nickname he was unaware of, though the epithets did pile up with the work of the company to spread tales of his bravery to all: Shining One.
Perhaps because of his fondness for basking in the afternoon sun (photosynthesising, he liked to tell Thorin) and the way his glittering gold accessories cast the light around him like a halo. Some thought him not a mortal creature at all, but a messenger sent by Mahal to protect their king and kingdom.
Either way, the hobbit was a legendary figure cast in a fog of mystery and reverence.
“You three. Throne room. Now.” The stern tone sent Kili, Fili, and Bofur following orders into the nearby throne room, luckily which was empty.
As soon as the heavy door fell shut, Bilbo started laying into the group, “I know you three are the main culprits of these rumours! As much as I appreciate your trying to improve my reputation and brighten the days of everyone working to rebuild with your storytelling, we need to keep these stories truthful! All I seem to hear lately is how I single-handedly defeated every enemy along the road to Erebor. If you’re going to spread these tales you should at least do so for the rest of the company! Little have I heard of bravery of Ori, youngest member and scribe, or Dwalin, who protected his king at every step, or the two princes who followed their uncle into danger to reclaim their homeland, or Bofur who showed kindness to all despite his sufferings.” And on and one he went, in his anger he barely registered the outpouring of compliments upon his friends. He was too outraged over their reckless rumour mongering and complete overlooking of their own feats in doing so, therefore not noticing the bright red blush that overtook the group.
So lost in his own frustrated ravings, he didn’t even notice the heavy door push open and a dark figure step inside.
“My beloved, could you show some mercy for my sake?” Thorin asked, a rumbling laugh behind his voice, as he came to rest his arms around his husband’s shoulders.
Bilbo huffed and scoffed, but couldn’t muster any more anger when feeling his sweethearts strong arms holding him close.
“What are you doing here?” The hobbit asked, much more softly.
“I was approached by a concerned citizen, they feared my Consort may be being bullied by my nephews.”
Three identical gasps of outrage echoed through the chamber, Fili and Kili offended at the idea they’d ever bully their little uncle, and Bilbo that he could ever be bullied by his little nephews.
“Where would they get a preposterous idea like that?”
“Well, they saw you towered over by three known troublemakers and worried for the wellbeing of our sweet, little hobbit.”
“Hmph! I don’t know where they’re getting ‘sweet’ from. And I’m a perfectly average sized hobbit, it can’t be helped you dwarves are far too tall.”
Thorin caught his nephews suppressing their laughter out for the corner of his eye, but most all of his attention was drawn by his love. Ignoring the refutations of being little, the king replied.
“Of course they think you sweet, what with that dazzling smile you offer all who cross your path, how you traipse these halls sparkling brighter than any of the gifts with which they shower you. You make a tempting picture Kurduwê.” Thorin whispered gruffly.
It was Bilbo’s turn to flush pink. The usually eloquent hobbit stumbling over what to say in the face of his lover’s adoring remarks, and he was sure he hadn’t imagined a hint of bitterness.
“Uncle!” Kiki shouted in embarrassment at the sappy display, hands covering his eyes.
“You’re all free to go. You’ve learnt your lesson, yes?”
A chorus of yes’s answered.
“You don’t even know what I’m scolding them for.”
“I’m confident whatever it is, you would have brought them to their good senses. You have had much practice.” The dark haired dwarf smiled dotingly at his partner.
“That I have! Hmph, you dwarves and your stubborn antics.” Bilbo responded, though his indignation was more for show than genuine at this point.
In truth, Bilbo was aware he had his own stubborn streak - how else could he have become a middle aged bachelor with his meddling neighbours and relatives - and found the same streak in his husband endearing. Their similarities could be frustrating at times, but now the danger to their lives had passed, the hobbit found his dwarve’s muleheadedness almost cute.
Especially when that stubborn attitude surrounded protecting his people and loved ones. It may have been Balin’s proposal, but Thorin was the driving force behind Bilbo’s acceptance of the dwarrows gifts. His husband knew him well, and when to use honey to get his way.
The three guilty dwarves crept out beneath notice as the couple were lost in each other’s attention.
“You do know, that you’re the one who insisted I be draped in gold and silk like a dragons hoard.”
“And I have no complaints.” The king gazed appreciatively at the golden glowing hobbit, in more ways than one, as he responded.
“My mistake then, I had thought I detected jealousy in your words.” Bilbo remarked.
“Of course not.” Thorin denied sternly.
“Really? What a shame. I would have been happy to comfort my poor neglected husband, but if you’re perfectly fine…” The glittering Consort trailed off, a cheeky smile sitting familiarly on his face.
“I meant, of course I couldn’t suppress my envy for the dwarrow who get to lay eyes upon you daily while I am buried in royal duties.” The king quickly corrected himself, smiling towards his beloved.
Bilbo giggled (though he wouldn’t admit to this) as Thorin lifted him off his feet, and strided towards their chambers carrying his treasure.