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Her brother always said that she had little patience and a short temper, which was only partially true. Dwalin was an old dwarf, though not as old as her brother (she loved to tease him mercilessly over their age difference), and the older she got, the more her patience dwindled. It didn’t help when she had to deal with humans, or elves, and she hardly had any to spare for those outside of her race. When hobbits came into the picture, she didn’t quite know how much patience she’d have with them, for the only one she really knew was Bilbo.
Bilbo, her husband and father of her unborn child, whom she found to have a lot more patience for, at least compared to pretty much everyone else. If she didn’t, they never would’ve courted in the first place. They wouldn’t have married once Erebor was reclaimed, and she wouldn’t be walking the stretch of road leading to Bag End six moons into her pregnancy after taking care of their ponies. She should’ve given in to Bilbo’s protests when he wanted to do it himself, but she had insisted. And regretted it. For now she was walking in full gear, swollen and sweaty with a painful back and aching feet.
Really, any pregnant dwarrowdam walking around in full armor on a surprisingly hot autumn afternoon would have a severe problem with anything. Which was why rage burned rather easily in her gut once Bag End came into view.
For she saw a number of hobbits standing around, heard them yelling a number of protests, and a good portion of Bilbo’s furniture was out on his yard. Bilbo, her dear, small, sweet husband, was currently haggling with at least two of the hobbits with one of their chests of gold.
Something in her snapped and she saw red.
“What in the blazes is going on here!?” She shouted, causing every hobbit to jump, squawk, and then go bug-eyed as they took in her appearance.
“Dwalin!” Bilbo breathed. “Dwalin, I’m so… so sorry, I-!”
But Dwalin wasn’t hearing any of it. Instead, she marched right over, through the gate (a trembling hobbit had quickly pulled it open for her) and up to a lady hobbit who was closest to Bilbo.
“Who are you?” She demanded as Bilbo made a noise of protest. “And why are you trespassing on Bilbo Baggins’s property?”
A gentlehobbit started whispering harshly to the lady, but she hissed at him before rounding back to Dwalin. “I’m Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, and I’m the new owner of Bag End!”
“Oh really?” Dwalin replied. “Who gave you permission to just up and claim it as your own?”
“The Sackville-Bagginses have every right to claim this home!” She snapped right back. “It’s not our fault that Bilbo here ran off on and adventure and was claimed dead when he never returned!”
“But I’m not dead!” Bilbo snapped. “As you can clearly see, I’m alive and well! And even if I wasn’t, Lobelia, you would be the last hobbit on the face of this green earth to live here!”
“Oh, you’re one to talk, aren’t you, Bilbo?” Lobelia sneered. “First you run through the entire Shire all geared up for backpacking, vanish without a trace for months without a single word of your state, and now you return expecting to just waltz back in as if nothing happened? And you!”
Dwalin just blinked at the noisy hobbit as she dared to jab a finger into her chest. “Who do you think you are, stomping through our home as if you yourself have a claim here?” She yelled.
Dwalin chuckled darkly. “Oh, but Miss Lobelia…” She grumbled, causing hobbits all around to shuffle back a few steps. “I do…”
Lobelia snorted before glaring at Bilbo once again. “Who does he think he is?” She spoke in a tone that made Dwalin want to pull out her knuckle dusters. “Your bodyguard?”
Bilbo’s jaw had clenched as he straightened. “Not my bodyguard.”
Lobelia snorted once again. “What then? Your husband?”
“She,” Bilbo corrected harshly, and if Dwalin’s patience weren’t so thin, she would’ve taken her hobbit into her arms for how fierce he could be trying to defend her honor. “Is my wife.”
Everyone was dead silent in shock, and Dwalin tried not to feel too insulted. It was a common mistake that outsiders made, thinking that just because someone had a beard that they were automatically a man. While it wasn’t the first time, Dwalin couldn’t help but think that it was rather obvious now. She was swollen all over, her wears doing nothing to hide her protruding middle and her breasts that were too tender to bind anymore.
Eventually, a wary woman stepped forward a little. “How far along are you, then?”
The murmurs were somewhat worse than the silence, but Dwalin did her best to be polite. “Six moons.” She explained somewhat stiffly. “Whether I have two or six more is up for debate, seeing as they’re half hobbit.”
She saw Bilbo give Dwalin a small smile, and something inside her melted. Nothing could defend her from her husband and his gentle looks of love and kindness.
“Lobelia…” The male hobbit nearest to the rude one hissed. “Lobelia, love, Bilbo’s alive, and he has a wife. A pregnant wife! Maybe we-.”
“Shut up, Otho!” Lobelia snarled at her husband. “I will not give up what’s rightfully ours just because Bilbo has found it fit to return after so long an absence and somehow managed to find someone with standards low enough to marry him! Of course…”
Lobelia gave Dwalin a rather open, nasty look as she took in the dwarrowdam. “No one should be surprised that the only woman who’d take Bilbo is a filthy, rude-.”
Later, much later, Dwalin would blame her hormones. Now, however, she didn’t want to blame anything as she stopped her husband’s enraged sputtering by unstrapping her war hammer off her back and slamming the butt of it onto the ground close to Lobelia’s feet. A few hobbits shrieked in shock, including the one named Otho. Dwalin herself took great pleasure in seeing Lobelia’s red face go white as a sheet.
“You listen here, you miserable shrew. I am six moons into my first pregnancy. My husband and I have been travelling swiftly and with little rest in order to come back here well before the stress of travels could do harm.” Dwalin growled darkly. “I’m tired, sweaty, my feet have swollen and I’m sure they’re currently fused to my boots. I’ve also been eating nothing but cram and gamey stew for months. My patience is thin!”
Dwalin then leaned over Lobelia, whose eyes widened as Dwalin’s narrowed. “So you now have three seconds to start putting all of Bilbo’s things back where they belong and getting off his property before I show you just how skilled I am with this hammer.” She continued. “I am not a warrior for nothing, after all.”
xxx
Dwalin bit back a sigh as she rolled her feet and wriggled her toes that were stretched out to rest on the ottoman before her. Despite having a few blades of grass still stuck to it, she couldn’t bring herself to care now that she could finally lay back and rest.
After Dwalin’s little display, the hobbits all agreed that doing what she had asked was better than trying to stake any more claim on Bilbo’s things. Most of the hobbits that had agreed the quickest were husbands and fathers themselves, so clearly they understood that a pregnant woman’s threats were not made idly. Lobelia still kicked up a fuss, but Bilbo shoved some of the old troll treasure into her greedy hands to shut her up before Dwalin could raise any protests. Such protests would’ve faded, since Lobelia merely took it and left with a stiff lip, but not before Dwalin checked her over and managed to salvage some of Bilbo’s silver from her dress pockets.
Dwalin barely acknowledged her husband’s tired sigh as he strolled into the sitting room with two cups of tea. She already knew what was in one, and automatically cringed.
“None of that, now.” Bilbo chided lightly. “It’s good for you, and for the babe.”
“Shouldn’t it then taste like something other than troll snot?” Dwalin groused as she took the offending tea that Oin had prescribed for her before they left for the Shire.
“Better than what I had to take when I was sick in Lake Town.” Bilbo countered. “You remember? And the smell was even worse.”
Dwalin remembered that all too well, because she was the one who fretted over him the most. They had just started courting when Bilbo fell ill, and she certainly didn’t want to loose him so soon. It was a rather horrible affair, and so was the tea. The odor had almost made Dwalin fall sick herself, but she muscled through feeding it to Bilbo, who fought it as much as he could.
“I’ve also put in some honey,” Bilbo cut in, snapping Dwalin from her thoughts. “If that helps.”
Dwalin gave Bilbo a look. “How much?”
“Practically half a jar.”
Dwalin laughed at her husband. Oh, how he knew her. “I knew I married you for a reason.”
“Oh, yes. Not at all for love and happiness. Only for how I remember that you have a sweet tooth that has grown worse with the child.” Bilbo quipped playfully. “I see how it is.”
Dwalin chuckled, taking a sip of the tea that should’ve been so sweet that it was bitter, but seemed just right (especially since it covered up the tea’s naturally foul taste). She then reached toward her husband and guided him down to sit on her lap, despite his protests.
“The baby-!” Was one of them.
“Is quite happy with this arrangement, I assure you.” Dwalin had cut in, setting her tea off to the side so it could cool and helping Bilbo settle more comfortably against her. “And I’m going to keep doing this until the baby is born. Then you’ll both be in my lap.”
Bilbo snorted. “Oh really?”
“I do have a very big lap, love. In case you’ve forgotten.”
Bilbo went pink at his ears and Dwalin pulled him to her, kissing his cheek and forehead to placate him even as he halfheartedly struggled to get off his wife’s lap, all while trying to make sure he didn’t spill his tea. Bilbo eventually allowed Dwalin to set his tea aside to better embrace him, as comfortably as she could around her swollen middle, anyway.
“Are you happy to be back home?” Dwalin eventually asked after a quiet moment, enjoying how Bilbo was relaxing more and more into her embrace.
“Well, I could’ve dealt without having to try to haggle for my own furniture.” Bilbo groused into her ear. “But it’s nice.”
Dwalin hummed at his answer then, casually reaching over and handing Bilbo his tea when he tried to do so himself.
“Although…” Bilbo continued after a sip. “Even if we stayed in Erebor, I would’ve been happy.”
Dwalin blinked at her husband. “Really?”
Bilbo shrugged. “It would take some getting used to, sure. But…” He looked at her then, smiling and causing her heart to flutter. “With you there, I would’ve been happy. In fact, I don’t think I would be happy now if you weren't here.”
Dwalin couldn’t resist pulling her husband’s face to hers, pressing their foreheads together as she massaged his scalp with her calloused fingers. “I couldn’t stay there.” She whispered. “Not… not after…”
Bilbo just shushed her with a kiss. “I know, love. I know.” He assured. “It’s alright. It’s all in the past, now.”
Dwalin shuddered against her husband, feeling his little fingers twist into her beard as he pecked her face with little kisses. She hated talking about the gold sickness. How she was one of many in their company to fall victim to it. How it took Thorin almost killing Bilbo to finally snap her out of it, when it should’ve happened much earlier. It should’ve happened when he protested about being draped in gold and finery. It should’ve happened when he grew sad when Dwalin told him whatever jewels he found for her weren’t good enough. She was sick and cruel, and wouldn’t have blamed Bilbo if he had called their courtship off, even after she followed him into the human camp when he was banished, after she saved him from Thorin’s rage.
But he didn’t. He forgave her. Understood that the gold sickness was what caused Dwalin’s greedy, selfish behavior. And while it took Dwalin almost getting her arm cleaved off trying to save Bilbo for her to be back fully into his good graces, Dwalin still couldn’t apologize enough. It was one of the many reasons why they decided to leave Erebor after they got married and discovered that Dwalin was with child.
“And you?”
Dwalin blinked, her dark thoughts fading as she looked into her husband’s green eyes. “Hmm?”
“Do you think you’ll be happy here?”
Dwalin grinned at her husband, reaching up and massaging one of his pointed ears and enjoying the little noise he emitted at the stimulation. “Anywhere you are is home to me.” She told him. “I’ll be happy, I am happy, to be here by your side.”
Bilbo beamed at her, and she couldn’t help but nuzzle her nose against one of his hairless cheeks. Something that should bother her but didn’t in the slightest.
“Oh, Dwalin.” Bilbo purred and she hummed pleasantly at the sound. “My love, my flower… Don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to make me forget that you barely touched your medicinal tea.”
Dwalin groaned, even as Bilbo managed to reach over and force the sweetened tea into her hand.
“I hate you.” She groused, even as she forced the lukewarm liquid down her throat and Bilbo giggled next to her ear.
“Oh, you really don’t.”
Dwalin managed to drink enough of the stuff that Bilbo finally deemed it fit to ignore for the rest of the evening. As she sat with her husband in her lap, watching him drink his tea, she thought of what the future would hold for them. How hard it might be for them all to fit in here, in the Shire. How long it would probably take for the hobbits to warm up to her, especially after her show with her hammer. How their child might get teased for being a dwarf-hobbit (Fíli and Kíli had told her to call it a “dwobbit” before they left, but she did her best to nip that in the butt before the name could pick up steam).
In the end, Dwalin knew that they would get by. That she would cherish every moment she could with her husband, knowing that he would leave this world in fifty years while she would probably keep going. That they would love their child endlessly, no matter what they decided to do with their life. Whether they wanted to live like a proper hobbit or become more like a dwarf.
She didn’t know that they would be adding one more hobbit into their odd family, after said fauntling lost his parents in the river. She didn’t know that the ring Bilbo had would force their future adopted nephew to risk his life, and the lives of others, to stop a great evil. She didn’t know that her husband would be asked to sail into the undying lands, and that she would demand to go with him. That she would be on that boat with her husband and nephew for one last adventure.
She didn't know what trials she faced, but she hoped that they would be happy.
There was one thing, however, that Dwalin was sure of at that moment: She was going to hide that blasted tea when Bilbo wasn't looking.