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Bilbo sighed as he all but crept through the halls of Erebor, amazed at what a year and a half and a mountain half full of dwarves could do.
Thankfully, he knew the way to his rooms, ones that were right next door to Thorin’s. Whilst Bilbo hadn’t thought it fitting for him to sleep in the room next to the kings, Thorin and the rest of the Company had vehemently disagreed with him, and so he thankfully knew the way to the place where he would be able to rest his head for this night. He was just too exhausted to deal with anyone, least of all his rambunctious friends, after he had finally made it back from the Shire and with the little one in tow, too.
He looked down at Frodo, who was firmly asleep, his little hand gripping Bilbo’s jacket for all he was worth and smiled at the faunt. As in love with the child as if he had been his own son and not that of his late cousins.
It was a terrible tragedy, losing Primula and Drogo as they had, and Bilbo was saddened that he would never get to talk to them about his journey, knowing Primula especially would have loved to have heard all about it, but well, he couldn’t exactly say he wasn’t over the moon that his aunt Mirabella, Frodo’s Grandma, had asked him to care for the child, knowing he would need more than anyone in the Shire could give him. Besides, Primula and Drogo had named Bilbo Frodo’s guardian, and that was what he would be for the boy.
Bilbo was aware that the dwarves would love Frodo. They loved all children, and they loved Bilbo, as he did them, and Frodo would be an instant hit in their little hodgepodge family.
Bilbo just wished he had been found by one of the ravens he had been using to communicate with Thorin whilst on his journey to the Shire. Sadly, he hadn’t seen one since Rivendell, so he had no way to explain why he had taken longer than expected or what he would need once he reached Erebor once again.
Whilst all children were similar, Bilbo knew he would have to make sure the dwarves remembered that Frodo was a faunt, and not a dwarfling, after all, Bilbo was more than aware how much squishier he was than a dwarf, and he was sure that fact was doubled for Frodo, being as young and small and squish-able as the boy was.
All Bilbo could think about tomorrow, though. For now, he moved some of the furs that must have been shaken in his absence and created a little nest for Frodo, considering he didn’t have a cot for the boy. Instead, he would have to sleep beside Bilbo so Bilbo knew if he got up in the night, as he was prone to. Thankfully, all the doors in Erebor were difficult enough for Bilbo to open so they would be impossible for Frodo, the only advantage of doors made from stone, as far as Bilbo was concerned, and now that he was back, he would be getting a wooden door made for his own rooms.
After settling Frodo down and cooing quietly as the faunt buried himself in the warm furs, Bilbo retired to the bathroom, more than grateful that one of the first things Thorin and his dwarves had sorted out when they were able to was both the plumbing and forges because it meant that Bilbo could just run a bath without having to heat up the water himself, something not possible in the Shire.
Once the overly large tub was somewhat full, full enough for a hobbit at least, Bilbo was finally able to get months of travel off his skin, feeling so much better now he was as clean as he had been when he last left the Shire. He reminded himself to use the sink for Frodo in the morning, otherwise Bilbo would be terrified of his tiny faunt in this large bath that even Bilbo dared not fill above his waist, even whilst sitting down, considering how large it really was.
He was just grateful he had managed to keep at least one of their outfits clean and in good shape, placed at the bottom of his pack as it had been so that tomorrow both hobbits would meet with their dwarven family at their best, after all, Bilbo wanted them to love Frodo at first sight just as he had.
With that thought, after he finally left the bath and had dried and dressed himself, Bilbo cleaned the wrap he had used to transport Frodo from the Shire to Erebor, the boy being much too small to walk. Bilo realised he would need it tomorrow, considering how far apart his rooms were from anything else in this mountain. To say Erebor was huge was an understatement in Bilbo’s opinion.
After he had thoroughly cleaned the wrap and placed it to dry underneath a vent that helped heat his rooms, Bilbo finally allowed himself to crawl into bed beside Frodo, grateful for the opportunity to wear his sleep clothes now he was safe, and for the furs he also buried himself in.
Bilbo finally fell asleep, Frodo’s little hand having migrated to his own. There they slept peacefully for the first time in months. Erebor’s two hobbits hand in hand as they slept, the mountain unaware of their return.
Bilbo was startled awake by a shriek followed by a gasp that had him sitting up faster than he could blink, Sting already in his hand even before he had seen what the disturbance was.
He’d had a few too many close calls whilst journeying on his own and had relied on hiding more than anything. The fact that something had found them last, he was so deeply asleep, something that he hadn’t allowed himself to do for months, was unsettling and worrying.
He finally forced his groggy brain to look around at the source of the disturbance and danger, only to gape at the young dwarrow before him. They must have been young, considering they barely had any facial hair and it took Bilbo a moment to realise that one, they were wearing some kind of uniform and two, he was threatening a child for all intents and purposes.
“Oh … ha hum-mm, hello dear?” he questioned more than stated, gazing at Frodo quickly, unsure what to do now, considering he was standing on top of his large dwarven-sized bed, his hair every which way, Sting in hand, IN HIS PAJAMAS!
“I … Lord Bilbo …” the young one managed to splutter out, their eyes wide and disbelieving.
“Ugh, I told them not to call me. I’m sorry to startle you; you startled me too, so I suppose we are equal, are we not?” Bilbo said with a softening smile as he hopped off the bed and put Sting where he had grabbed it from, beside the side of the bed he had been sleeping on.
“I … yes, Sir,” the youngling agreed, though Bilbo could see they still weren’t overly comfortable with talking to him, not that he blamed them. He must have looked more like Mad Baggins at that moment than ever before. He perished to think what his neighbours would think of him, his state and his actions in this moment.
He shook those thoughts away. After all, they had no place here in Erebor, and it wasn’t like he was ever going back to the Shire to live, so what did he care?
Before he could say anything more, Frodo chose that moment to wake up, grumbling and groaning and making a fuss as toddlers were wont to do when they first awoke.
He stepped over to remove the boy from the furs he had somehow gotten himself trapped in, and smiled at him as Frodo smiled back up at Bilbo, all wide eyes and wide smile and for a moment Bilbo all but forgot about the young dwarf in the room until they cautiously took a step forward, mouth all but hanging open as they looked at the child and Bilbo.
“They are …” they trailed off, once again unsure what to say.
“Cranky and dirty, aren’t you, Frodo my boy?” Bilbo asked the fauntling as he scooped Frodo up into his arms. “I am truly sorry to have startled you. I will not need these rooms cleaned again, but I thank you and whoever else kept them in such a wonderful state of cleanliness and order. I have to go and bathe Frodo now, but do the Company still have their joint meals in the hallway a few levels away?” he asked as he gently stroked the back of Frodo’s messy bed hair, grown longer than Bilbo would have liked with the distance of their journey.
“No Sir, it is further down the royal wing now, you just keep walking past the king’s rooms until you reach the end of the corridor,” the young one explained, unable to help smiling in return when both Bilbo and Frodo sent them smiles, Bilbo of thanks and Frodo because he was just in a good mood this morning having woken up in a comfortable bed and with his uncle close by.
“Wonderful, thank you so much, dear. We shall be along shortly, but you don’t need to tell them if it is outside your duty. I understand you must work very hard cleaning up after others. Have a wonderful day,” Bilbo dismissed them kindly, wanting to get Frodo fully cleaned and fresh looking now he was able to and before anymore dwarves barged into his rooms unannounced, even if the youngling hadn’t known any reason they shouldn’t come in and freshen the place up as someone must have been doing, something Bilbo was immensely grateful for considering he had barely had the strength or motivation to do so himself the night before.
Unbeknownst to Bilbo, whilst he had been getting Frodo cleaned and prepared for the long day ahead, he was sure they would have once word got around he was home and with a fauntling with him, the young worker had all but scurried towards Lord Balin to tell him that the Consort had returned in the dead of night and that he had the king’s child with him.
Bilbo was finally ready to go, both his and Frodo’s hair brushed to a manageable level, though as soon as Bilbo could get his hands on a pair of scissors for them both, the better he thought. He had brushed their foot fuzz to within an inch of its life, and now they were ready to head out and find their family.
Bilbo was full of joy at the idea of being reunited with them, and of course at having a decent meal. Fauntlings just ate and ate and ate, and to make sure Frodo had enough food on their journey, Bilbo had gone without more than he would like. He was more than grateful he was never making that journey alone with a fauntling again. He and Frodo were staying here until the boy was at least a tween who understood having to have smaller rations when travelling, not a fauntling whose growth could be damaged by not having enough to eat.
The thought of food, and plenty of it, had Bilbo all but ready to charge down the hallways of Erebor. As he picked Frodo up once again and placed him in the now clean and dried sling, he headed towards the door, only for it to be thrown open and Fili and Kili to burst through it.
“Bilbo, you’re back!” Bilbo shouted at the top of his lungs. It was nice to see the boy hadn’t outgrown his need to state the obvious whilst Bilbo had been gone, he supposed.
“I suppose the young one I startled earlier went and told you all that I had returned? I was going to surprise you,” Bilbo said, unable to stop the smile covering his face.
“Well we are surprised. Why didn’t you let us know you had returned?” Fili asked, a note of hurt in his voice.
“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to. But it was late. Frodo and I were filthy and exhausted. I thought I’d rather sleep and see you today when I am not exhausted and with a cranky fauntling in my arms. Isn’t that right, Frodo?” Bilbo smiled down at Frodo, who was curled up in the sling, his thumb in his mouth as he looked at the two dwarves before him, his wide blue eyes blinking back at them innocently as they took in the sight of him resting against Bilbo’s heart.
“Oh, they were right. We do have a new cousin …” Fili whispered in awe as he peered down at the small child snuggled against Bilbo.
“In a way, yes, I suppose you do. As long as your Uncle hasn’t …” Bilbo couldn’t even finish that sentence. It had been months since he had been able to talk to Thorin, even through the letters they had sent to one another, and he hoped he hadn’t receded on his offer to Bibo, both of living in Erebor and rekindling their failed courtship that had been hindered by the Battle of the Five Armies and by Thorin’s having been ill.
Kili, bless his lovely heart, must have seen the expression on Bilbo’s face as he walked across the room and pulled Bilbo into a hug, careful of the fauntling between them. “He hasn’t, and he never will. He loves you, Uncle Bilbo, and he will love you, won’t he, Iraknadan (cousin),” he said with a smile so wide it looked like it might hurt.
“Do you know where to go, Bilbo?” Fili asked as he too stared down at Frodo in awe and instant acceptance, just like Bilbo had expected from his amazing dwarrow family.
“Yes, the young worker I scared earlier told me. End of the hall, yes?”
“Yes. Alright, we are going to round everyone up and let them know it’s true. Not only did you return, but you returned with your and Uncle’s child. Congratulations, Bilbo,” Kili shouted as he all but ran to the door, Fili hot on his heels.
“What, what do you mean, my and your uncle’s child? Frodo isn’t …” Bilbo’s words were cut off as the heavy stone door slammed closed behind them. “Well, stuff and nonsense!” Bilbo declared to himself, already having figured out that such a thought would already be halfway around the mountain by now, and here he was, not even having had first breakfast yet. Bugger!
It was with an irritated sigh that Bilbo started to head towards the Company dining area, sure he knew what he was in for as he tried to sort this misunderstanding out.
When he arrived, only Oin and Gloin were there and both beamed at Bilbo before heading towards him to hug him.
Bilbo hugged them back happily, or he was happily doing so until Oin opened his foolish mouth.
“I will come to your rooms later to do a thorough check-up on you and the babe. It can’t have been good birthing them on your own and in the wilderness, too!” Oin declared as he allowed Frodo to grab his finger and giggle at him. “Advanced for his age, isn’t he?” Oin said in awe as he refused to move for Gloin to get a proper look at Frodo.
“Oh, look at him, he looks the same size as my Gimli did when he was barely a month old. Must be your side of the family affecting him,” Gloin added quickly.
Bilbo felt like he would have swayed on his feet if he really had birthed Frodo. He was much larger than a hobbit babe. Surely Gloin had been wrong in thinking a month-old infant was as large as a 3-year-old Frodo. If not their poor dwarrowdams, no wonder they rarely wanted to have children if that was the case.
Bilbo was about to say something about Frodo’s age when he was interrupted by Dori, Nori and Ori or entering at the same time, bickering about Bilbo and Frodo.
“Can’t be. I don’t think they ever actually lay together, did they?” Nori asked loudly and scandalously.
“NORI!” Both Dori and Ori cried at their brother.
“What Thorin and Bilbo did in privacy is up to them. The fact that even you, with all of your skulking ways, didn’t see them goes to show that some people understand about privacy and keeping certain … activities … away from areas where they may be discovered. You and Dwalin should think of following in their footsteps!” Dori lectured, unable to say he was surprised by his brother’s uncouth words, but he wasn’t.
Ori ignored whatever Nori grumbled back in return as he headed towards Bilbo to greet his friend, eyes riveted to the babe in his arms as he did so. “Oh, he is tiny, isn’t he?” Ori asked, unable to tear his eyes away from Frodo.
“Not really. He is of average size for a faunt, though a bit slim, and we have been travelling. Fauntlings aren’t supposed to travel at this age,” Bilbo admitted as he hugged Frodo a little closer as the lad was getting anxious with all these large beings peering down at him.
“Oh, of course. Silly of us not to think of such a thing. Will you be feeding him, or do you need some goat’s milk brought up?” Ori asked next, whipping out his ever-present notepad to write down whatever information Bilbo gave them to care for the child.
“Goat’s milk wouldn’t go amiss, but of course I will feed him; he isn’t the most coordinated at this age,” Bilbo answered, completely missing the meaning of what Ori had asked.
That he hadn’t immediately wandered away, or asked for privacy, was a huge honour for his dwarrow family, considering only those closest to the lactating parent were allowed to be in the same room to see such a beautiful moment in Dwarrow society. The fact that Bilbo hadn’t even thought to ask them to leave had them all puffing up their chests in pride and love, and Bilbo once again giving them that look they were used to from him, that look where he thought they had all lost their collective minds, but he was going to put up with it because he loved them.
Bilbo had barely taken a few steps towards the table where breakfast had already been laid out when Bofur and Bifur entered next.
Bofur didn’t waste a moment rushing forward and lifting Bilbo clean off his feet as he swept him around in a circle, ignoring the jeers from the others.
“What’s this I hear about a babe?” Bofur asked when he finally released Bilbo, who had wrapped an arm around Frodo, even as he had laughed at his friend’s antics.
“Not quite a babe. He is a bit older than that,” Bilbo assured Bofur as he readjusted the sling so Frodo could once again poke his head out to look around him.
Frodo didn’t seem as enamoured with Bofur as Bilbo had been and gave the dwarf such a flat look that it took Bilbo aback and had Bofur in stitches. “That expression must be genetic. Looks like a mini Thorin, don’t he?” Bofur asked as he moved aside for Bifur to look at the boy, still chortling as he did so.
Bilbo stroked Frodo’s hair, trying to calm the boy down. The others were all laughing about how he was already so alike Thorin, and Bilbo wanted to smack them all. The boy was a hobbit through and through, and he was clearly as fed up with dwarves as Bilbo was, and he had barely been in the Company Hall for 20 minutes.
He was well aware that his friends liked to tease him and one another, but this, not listening and saying Frodo was both Thorin and Bilbo’s child, was taking teasing to an entirely new level. For one, he and Thorin had never actually lain together. Life had been fraught before Bilbo had returned to the Shire, and none of his and Thorin’s relations had been amorous. Plus, Bilbo was as male as Thorin, and there was no way for him to carry and birth a child; he was getting fed up with everyone assuming such a thing.
Besides, whilst he would never mention it to their friends, both he and Thorin were very aware that neither was just a taker or giver in the bedroom exclusively. If Thorin could apparently get Bilbo pregnant, well, by that logic, Bilbo could get Thorin just as pregnant too, or would have been able to if it wasn’t impossible!
Bilbo decided to give his friends the benefit of the doubt. After all, maybe male dwarves could get pregnant, and nobody had told him. Maybe they were all just perpetually drunk, or maybe all that bonking one another on the head had made them all a few apples short of a bushel. Bilbo didn’t know, but what he did know was that this was already getting old, and all of the Company wasn’t even here yet. Thorin wasn’t even here yet.
Bilbo’s less-than-charitable thoughts were disrupted by Kili shouting his name. Bilbo turned to look at the lad, his nose screwing up in distaste as he noticed that Kil had a handful of bacon and was waving it at Bilbo as though in invitation.
“Kili …” He started, about to reprimand the boy for his dreadful manners, when Kili shouted right over whatever Bilbo had been about to say.
“He can eat meat, right? Because a growing pebble needs bacon,” he shouted as he placed a much too large pile of bacon on what had been an empty plate beside him.
“Kili, he is not a pebble, or a dwarfling or a baby dwarf or whatever you want to call him. He is a hobbit!” Bilbo said with exasperation, even as he moved towards the table. If he was going to have to deal with this ridiculousness, then he at least could do it with a full stomach. “And yes, he can eat meat, though he needs vegetables and fruits too. He is a hobbit after all,” Bilbo said as he pointedly looked at the plates of those already seated. Plates that had potatoes as the only non-meat item on them.
“He is a dwobbit. That’s what we decided on, right? I sent Bombur back to the kitchens to get some more vegetables, but he also said we have to wait until he has had his fill from Bilbo and only then can he eat, and not that much Kee,” Fili explained to his brother as he sat down on the other side of Bilbo and instantly started cooing to Frodo as one would a newborn. Frodo was not impressed and gnashed his little teeth at Fili, causing the dwarf to pull his fingers back with a laugh. “Guess he is hungry. You should absolutely feed him, don’t mind us,” Fili laughed before turning to his own breakfast.
Bilbo felt his face suddenly go bright red as he realised what Fili meant and what Ori had meant earlier on. They expected Bilbo to feed Frodo from himself, not help him eat. He knew he was going to regret asking Fili this question, but found he couldn’t stop himself from asking for clarification. “When you say I should feed him …” he trailed off, aware of how deep his blush was becoming.
“If you aren’t comfortable breastfeeding him in front of us Bilbo, that’s fine. It’s just you said you were earlier, that’s all. But none will mind. We can all leave, or we can find you somewhere private to feed the pebble. It is entirely your choice,” Fili told the hobbit gently, speaking quietly as he could see how embarrassed Bilbo was by the turn in conversation, though Fili wasn’t sure why. Maybe hobbits were just different like that, the supposed.
Bilbo supposed that if he hadn’t told the others until he was practically blue in the face that he hadn’t borne Frodo, their concerns and the way they just accepted the boy would be lovely. However, he had told them, all of them, repeatedly, and now nothing they said had any validity to it because they wouldn’t bloody listen to him.
Bilbo felt his eye twitching as he listened to the others laughing and joking about how Thorin had hit the anvil with his hammer, even when Bilbo had been half-starved and stressed. About how a dwarf only has to aim their pickaxe to hit the mother lode and other such crude expressions that had no business being said around Fili, Kili and Ori, let alone a small child like Frodo and felt his temper rising.
He removed Frodo from the sling he was still in and settled him on the seat he had just vacated. “Cover your ears, dear,” Bilbo told Frodo softly, smiling when the faunt did exactly that and smiled up at Bilbo in all of his innocence.
No, Frodo may not be Bilbo’s by birth, but he was his by the love in his heart; however, Bilbo would never allow Frodo to forget how his parents were, and his foolish dwarves were already making that promise to both Primula and Drogo and his Aunt Mirabella harder than it should be.
Bilbo took a deep breath before grabbing one of the wooden tankards set out on the table and slamming it down as hard as he could, catching all of his dwarves’ attention.
“I will tell you all this one more time. I do not care how much he looks like Thorin. I do not care how much the boy fits in. He is not my son. He isn’t Thorin’s son. He is mine, and later Thorin’s nephew, and he is a hobbit through and through. Understand?” he all but snarled at the stunned dwarves before him.
“Bilbo, none of us will judge you for having a babe out of wedlock. I know we talked about how that is a very taboo thing in the Shire. Here, no one will mind,” Ori told his friend delicately, sad to see him upset and denying what they could all see.
Bilbo had to take a few deep breaths, so he didn’t scream at his friends. It was a good job he loved them, he thought, because he was ready to throw all of them off the battlements if they carried on. How he was supposed to convince them of the truth when they were wilfully ignoring him, he had no idea.
He grit his teeth and glared at them all. “For the last time. Frodo isn’t …”
“My son, nor Bilbo’s!” Thorin’s voice called out from the door he had just entered, a frown on his face. “I’m sure I would know if Bilbo was able to bear young. It would have been a conversation we’d had. He cannot. I cannot. And this will be the child of your favourite cousins, correct? I remember you telling me his name. I am sorry for the obvious circumstances that brought him here, but I am not sorry to meet him or help you raise your nephew,” Thorin said as he looked between Bilbo and the boy who was eating a roll much bigger than both of his hands together. Thorin couldn’t stop his smile at the sight. Hobbits, he thought fondly.
He didn’t have longer to think on anything before he had a relieved Bilbo in his arms, the rest of the room forgotten for the moment as though it was just the two of them in the entirety of Arda,
“Thorin. I’ve missed you,” Bilbo whispered into the skin of Thorin’s neck, where he had buried his head as soon as he and Thorin had wrapped their arms around one another, holding on to one another as though they would never let go.
“And I you, Ghiveshal,” Thorin replied, placing a kiss on the top of Bilbo’s head.
Thorin wasn’t sure how long they stood there until Bilbo said something he didn’t catch, muffled against his neck as it was.
“Pardon?” He asked as he waited for Bilbo to look at him properly. As soon as he raised his head, Thorin bent even further down to gently kiss Bilbo on the lips, reaffirming that he was home and in Thorin’s arms.
“I said, you thought he was yours, didn’t you?” Bilbo asked Thorin with a raised eyebrow.
Thorin felt his face heat up as he reluctantly nodded. “With what the servant said and described, then the boys, it seemed plausible,” Thorin admitted, unable to look Bilbo in the eyes as the other half of his heart tried to stop himself laughing at Thorin’s expense.
“So what changed?” Bilbo asked, actually interested in the answer.
“Someone mentioned his name. I remember you talking about him and his father Drogo, so I knew he had existed even before we met,” Thorin admitted.
“You are an idiot,” Bilbo said much more sappily than he meant to. “You are all bloody idiots,” he said with a put-upon sigh before he kissed Thorin once more before extricating himself from Thorin’s arms, though he held onto one of his hands as he tugged him over to the chair Frodo was sitting in, one that dwarfed him completely.
“Thorin, meet your nephew. Frodo Baggins, son of Primula and Drogo Baggins,” Bilbo introduced his dwarf to his nephew, glaring at the others even as they stood there, mouths open and wondering how they could be so stupid considering Bilbo had tried to tell them the truth of Frodo’s parentage.
Bilbo just shook his head at his foolish family before he smiled at them. He then turned to Frodo and softly pushed the boy’s hair out of his eyes. “Dwarves are odd, Frodo my lad,” he said conspiratorially. “But these daft ones are ours, so we have to put up with them, I suppose.” He smiled as he pulled the faunt into his arms, moving him so he was closer to Thorin, who looked at the boy with much the same wonder he had in his eyes as he looked at Bilbo.
Yes, his dwarves may be odd and dumb, but they were his and Bilbo and Frodo were exactly where they needed to be. Bilbo, though, as Thorn pulled him into his arms once again, this time including Frodo into the gentle embrace too.