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Bilbo wasn’t hiding. At least, that’s what he wants the kingdom of Erebor to believe as he quickly walked through the halls towards the kitchens, sometimes glancing over his shoulder. Sure, it seemed like it from the point of view of the casual outsider, but that certainly wasn’t the case.
No, Bilbo wasn’t hiding. He was fleeing. There was a big difference. Many a husband and father might understand why, however. For Bilbo was fleeing from his two very pregnant husbands.
It was seen as a blessing, at first. And still was. For Bilbo did want to be a father, and his boys did as well. It was a peculiar, yet wonderful way to start the new age with Thorin as king, his consort-to-be on one side, and his heirs, married and expecting on the other. There were dwarrows that thought it was some kind of black magic, but there were many more that saw it as a gift from Aulë and Yavanna both, since children were rare amongst their kind, and to have two expecting, though they didn’t have full dwarf blood, were the greatest gifts besides the reclamation of their kingdom.
Bilbo remembered how powerful such a gift could be when it was thrust into a dwarf’s lap. It had saved many lives when the brothers, Bilbo’s husbands, used such news to stop the hand of an enraged Thorin Oakenshield. He remembered how Thorin’s rage-twisted face had shifted to awe when his nephews, upon saving Bilbo from his grasp, had revealed to them, all of them, that they were with child. How easy it was, then, to convince Thorin to do the right thing for the sake of his unborn grand-nieces-or-nephews. How they did it in time to come together and fight against the oncoming armies of goblins and orcs.
Bilbo fought down a shudder, recalling the aftermath. How Thorin and his nephews barely survived. How his unborn children were alright (because of course they wanted to fight, the idiots). All was well, now. Bilbo had taken care of his affairs in the Shire before promptly returning to Erebor. How he saw the arrival of Thorin’s future wife and future consort. Despite all the chaos, even during those recent days when the kingdom was still being rebuilt, there was peace.
Well, peace for everyone except Bilbo.
The poor hobbit was almost at his wit’s end with his husbands. He did love them, truly, but he was never going to go near them without some kind of armor ever again at this rate, for both dwarves had changed over the course of their pregnancies.
Fíli was an emotional wreck, crying about everything. From how he was getting too big for his clothes, to the gravy on his plate touching the root vegetables. There were sad tears, angry tears, happy tears, a whole assortment of tears would spill from Fíli’s eyes at the drop of a hat. Bilbo would then be a shoulder to cry on, a figure to glare at, or a head to nuzzle.
Kíli was just as bad. Granted, he didn’t cry, but he got fierce and loud. Instead of reacting with tears when he got upset, he would throw things and yell so loudly the entire mountain shook. When he got happy, he’d squeal and laugh and cause numerous heads to turn. Moreso than usual, anyway. He was usually the one who glared at Bilbo if he found Fíli in tears.
There were a few things that they had in common, however. Both were extremely possessive and protective of their hobbit husband. They were usually seen hovering over Bilbo and touching him in some way when they were in the presence of others. If they even sensed any danger, they would put themselves in front of him and guard him from any possible threats. It had saved him once or twice from the odd assassination attempt, but really! They should be more worried about themselves, since they were the ones heavy with child!
Then there was the sex. Oh, the sex. Bilbo liked sex, especially having sex with his husbands, and he did have a rather impressive sex drive compared to the average dwarf; but there was only so much Bilbo could equally give and take, and it was getting rather embarrassing leaving their shared quarters bow-legged and achy, flushed and ruffled.
That was why, when his husbands were thoroughly distracted by their mother (lovely woman, Dís was, though she was also quite terrifying), that he took what time he had to rush to the kitchens, hoping to unwind with Bombur, who now ran the kitchens himself and was even heftier because of it.
Once he entered the bustling kitchens, he did not expect to see Bombur already serving tea and sweets to a rather grateful-looking Burdith, who was soon to be Thorin’s wife, and his aunt-in-law (that seemed to be the proper label).
Bilbo himself thought she was a rather charming woman, though tall (she was a daughter of Men, after all, even though she was short compared to most of her kind). If it weren’t for her beard, she would look rather homely. A pudgy young woman with simple brown hair and equally simple gray eyes. But she did have a beard, though not as long and bushy as Bilbo had thought she would have, but it did reach her bosom, and was styled in an intricate matter, with weaving braids and glittering beads of mithril and jewels. To many dwarrows, she was seen as quite a lovely woman, and her sharp tongue and quick wit had many a dwarf laughing and warming up to her.
Burdith caught Bilbo’s eye as he moved to sit next to her slightly hunched form (they hadn’t altered much in the mountain for someone of her size), and they shared a look of tired understanding.
“Pregnant husbands.” Bilbo told her after Bombur smiled at him and ambled off to get some tea and sweets for him. “You?”
“Wedding plans.” Burdith replied simply, and he groaned in sympathy. Dwarven weddings were an extravagant affair, particularly royal weddings. Planning them was chaotic and stressful, especially when you throw in diplomats and other members of the nobility. “Apparently, Thorin is still working out the finer details of the seating arrangements with Balin.”
“Trying to find a place to put King Thranduil?” Bilbo quipped, causing Burdith to choke a laugh around her tea.
“Trying to not invite him.” She cut in, causing Bilbo to laugh. “Honestly, I never thought a wedding would be so complicated! I think Thorin is making it that way on purpose.”
“Did you leave him with planning it?” Bilbo asked, completely aghast. He at least tried to help his husbands.
But Burdith scoffed. “Thorin prefers to do it mostly by himself.” She replied. “He likes my input, sure, but he has a specific image in his mind, and he wants the actual wedding to match.”
“I guess that’s what we get for marrying royalty.” Bilbo replied, smiling at Bombur as he came back with Bilbo’s food and drink.
“I guess…” Burdith agreed. “It’ll be worth it, though. At least, I hope so. What do you think, Bombur?”
Bombur just chuckled at them. “Well, I think anyone’s willing to do whatever they can to make the one they love happy.” He answered. “When I was going to get married, I wanted to plan it all, and make it the best possible affair money could buy, at the time. All to make her happy. Eventually, she butted in and helped. I was glad for it, since it was a bit of a handful, and an expensive one to boot.”
Burdith had a wistful twinkle in her eye, and Bilbo was sure he knew what she was thinking about.
“That’s what I’ve tried to do. I want to have at least some say. Of course, we could be getting married in an abandoned mine wearing sacks for all I care.” She explained. “Despite everything, I do love Thorin, even though he never once told me that he was actually a king instead of just being a blacksmith. Either occupation, or none at all, I would marry him. I’m that foolish. Was it the same for you, Bilbo?”
“Er, somewhat.” Bilbo cut in. “When we were first betrothed, not so much. It was all… thrust into my lap, really. I had no idea that they were interested in me in the first place! I was, sure, but I didn’t think that two princes would ever wish to marry a simple hobbit like myself. Yet, here I am, drinking tea and eating pastries with the future King Consort Under the Mountain, hiding from my husbands and my mother-in-law as they plot out the nursery.”
Burdith laughed. “And what delightful pastries they are!” She proclaimed, and Bilbo laughed as well.
There was a moment’s pause as Bombur went off to check on something before Burdith spoke up once again.
“One thing has me worried, however.” She murmured, causing Bilbo to raise an eyebrow. “The bonding ceremony, or at least, the part where you bind your life to your partner’s, so you live as long as they do. The one they got from the elves. Haven’t you done it?”
Bilbo bit his lips to fight a grin, trying to remain solemn. “Oh, yes.”
“Is it… is it bad?”
“Well, no…” Bilbo continued, seeing Bombur standing by the counter and shaking with laughter. “It’s… it’s not really a ceremony or anything. It’s just an oath.”
Burdith blinked at him. “Really? That’s it?”
“Indeed.” Bilbo explained. “See, it’s an oath a dwarf takes where they say that, when their loved one dies, they vow to follow them to the grave immediately by taking their own life.”
When Burdith went incredibly pale, Bilbo couldn’t take it anymore. He burst into a fit of giggles, and they only grew louder when Burdith began to swat at him.
“That was not funny!” She scolded. “I thought you were being serious for a moment! A pact to kill oneself when your spouse dies…!”
“I-I’m sorry!” Bilbo choked out. “It’s just… It’s just Thorin told me that before I married his nephews. He didn’t tell me that was his poor excuse of a joke until after I tried to run away.”
Burdith scoffed. “Sounds about right, if I know Thorin…” She groused. “But what is it really like?”
“Well, it’s simple, really.” Bilbo murmured, fidgeting a little. “You… You just drink a rather foul-tasting tea… and then… consummate. It sort of… binds you to them, that way.”
“Ah.” Burdith stated shortly, and Bilbo had to clear his throat as his face went aflame. “And you had to do that-?”
“No! Nonono! I just… It was Fíli who said that I should do it with Kíli.” Bilbo explained. “He’s the youngest, after all, and Fíli… Fíli wanted me to live as long as he did. Didn’t want his brother to be alone.”
Burdith blinked down at him, and he knew the question that was behind those gray orbs. What would happen if Kíli passed on first? Would Fíli manage to live on his own? Could Bilbo live if Kíli did pass on and he survived? If he did, what would happen to him?
“We figure, though, that since our… well… activities…” Bilbo continued awkwardly. “Happened so close together… that I’m bound to both fully. That way, if… something happens… I’ll be okay.”
“Oh… Well, that’s good…” Burdith commented, smiling, and Bilbo nodded. “And you all seem so very happy. I could only wish that my marriage to Thorin will be just as happy as yours.”
Bilbo beamed at her, ready to thank her, only to be cut off when the door to the kitchens burst open.
“Bilbo Baggins!”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Bilbo eventually breathed as Burdith was visibly chewing on her lip. Eventually, he turned to see his husbands waddling inside, Kíli leading the charge, turning this way and that to accommodate their growing middles.
“There you are!” Kíli chirped, and Bilbo was thankful that he wasn’t angry this time. “We were wondering where you disappeared off to.”
“Well, you did give me leave to step out…” Bilbo replied, and Fíli huffed.
“That didn’t mean you should!” The eldest replied. “Left us all alone with our mother, and she tried to put lace in- Oh! Hello, Burdith.”
Bilbo fought the urge to roll his eyes as his husbands plastered themselves to him. It was their possessiveness again, he was sure. Though, really, they had nothing to worry about. He had no interest in Burdith, as nice as she was, and she certainly had no interest in him outside of wanting to be close in the familial sense of the word.
“Fíli, Kíli.” She greeted, all smiles. “Don’t you look handsome as always? Practically glowing!”
“Oh, please,” Kíli growsed. “My ankles are swollen, I can’t wear my ring, and it feels like I have arrows constantly digging into my- Are those caramels?”
Bilbo did not feel at all jilted at the sight of Kíli swooping in and stealing what sweets were left on his plate, even when Fíli followed suit. Burdith smiled at him, giving him a little wink before her gaze shifted and her eyes softened. Bilbo turned to see Thorin at the door, dressed in his finery, smiling and looking rather at ease for a man planning a large wedding.
“I’ll take my leave.” Burdith replied, standing from her seat and offering it to Kíli, who took it immediately.
“Why not stay? These are amazing!” Kíli protested, mouth full, and Bilbo fought the urge to tell his husband not to talk like that, recalling the time when Kíli had snarled at him the last time he did so.
“I know, nephew.” She chirped, stepping around the three. “But I have other things that are quite important right now.”
Bilbo watched with a smile, then, as Burdith approached Thorin, who took up her hand and kissed it before leading her out. He could understand Burdith’s worries, but he had a feeling she didn’t have to worry too much. From the looks of things, it seemed that her life with the King would be pleasant and happy.
His thoughts were derailed when he heard sniffling, and didn’t think twice about wrapping his arm around Fíli’s shaking shoulders and allowing him to cry on his own.
“I’m sorry!” He stated, voice wavering. “It’s just… I hope my uncle’s happy! And I don’t want to have to kill her if she hurts him!”
“I know, love, I know. I don’t want you to, either.” He consoled, no longer feeling tired and fearful of his husbands as they cuddled close and nuzzled his shoulders in the kitchens of all place. “Although, I don’t think you have to worry.”