Archive of Our Own ^beta

Published at: 2013-01-07
Revised at: 2013-03-23 20:58:53 -0700

Chapter 1: The Beginning

The Marks That We Bear
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“Just go! Your not welcome here anymore!” Thorin’s words were harsh and rough, his face filled with rage as he clenched his fists, looking ready to kill. “After what you did… I never want to see your face near Erebor ever again! If I see you, I’ll kill you with my own hands!”

Bilbo bit the inside of his cheek, nails digging into his palms. His stomach was lurching, and he felt as if he was going to throw up. The mark over his heart was burning like a brand, the rejection from Thorin making him want to throw up as it began to go sour.

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The mark on his chest had first appeared when he had reached puberty. He’d awoken on his birthday with a screaming pain in his skin, and he’d ripped his shirt off, staring at the burning color of his veins, all diverging onto the skin above his heart. He’d watched in amazement, as it had swirled into a pattern. It was a tree, its roots the veins that ran under his skin. Above it there was a scepter and a crown, fading into a dark black over the red tree.

It was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. He’d gone to his mother as fast as he could, waking the other up, and showing her his chest. She had looked so proud of him, and explained that his soul had finally bonded with another as he hit his maturity. Bilbo had looked so excited, and he could barely wait to meet his soul mate.

But his soul mate had never shown up.

It had been years and years, and he hadn’t met his soul mate. His mother assured him that his soul mate must be some other race, like a dwarf or even a human, and not to worry.

More years passed, and they never showed up.

Bilbo had finally given up hope forever meeting them, deciding to be alone. He was obviously never going to meet his soul mate, who would have the same exact mark on their chest. His soul mate would have the opposite color spectrum on their mark however, the tree would be black and the symbol above a red color, he’d been told by his mother.

He was the freak of the Shire, the oldest hobbit in their small little nation that didn’t have a soul mate. Kids would walk by his house and whisper about him. How he was some rejected who was living longer due to the fact he was secretly a demon. Rumors ran around Hobbiton like crazy about him, making up stories that were widely believed by most.

Then the dwarves had come along. As each one showed up, he had been even more worried, as they decimated his kitchen. When 12 of them had been at the table stuffing their cheeks, he was worrying over his dishes. Thankfully, the dwarves had cleaned up after themselves.

But everything had gotten a lot worse after the last dwarf arrived.

Bilbo had answered the door, with all the intentions in the world to tell the newest arrival to screw off, but had frozen.

Most races, except dwarves, didn’t have to see their soul mates chest to know that they were theirs. They could tell instantly, and a new mark would appear on their chest. Usually since hobbits had hobbits as soul mates, this meant they found who they were meant to be with at a young age. Sometimes there were some years of denial, but no one was outwardly rejected or sent away.

Not until now.

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Bilbo had just been rejected by his soul mate, even though the other didn’t know who he was. The pain in his chest was like someone was scraping the mark away, stripping the skin to nothing. He turned away quickly, hiding his face of agony from the company as he walked towards his pony, every step like burning fire. He could barely get onto his pony’s back, the dwarves eyes all locked on his figure. He glanced back, only for a moment.

All of the dwarves looked as Thorin did. Mad. Upset. Hateful. He had given their Arkenstone away; he had betrayed their beloved leader. Only Ori, Balin, and Bofur looked conflicted, their faces slightly twisted in worry. Ori’s face suddenly twisted in confusion, his eyes focused on Bilbo’s chest, and Bilbo turned in his saddle quickly, pulling his shirt closed more over his chest, looking down himself. The mark was glowing a sickly green, the color spreading ever so slowly to other places on his chest, like a poison invading his body.

The poison of rejection.

It’s too late for me. He thought bitterly, spurring his pony into a walk. Even if Ori told the others that he saw it… they wouldn’t know what to do. They wouldn’t even care.

He disappeared into the line of trees, the 13 dwarves fading away behind him, as he made his journey home to the Shire. He might as well die somewhere he was semi-happy for a good portion of his life, instead near a place that had helped ruin his life forever.

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Ori sat by the fire, staring into its depths as he hugged his knees, thinking hard. Bofur and Balin walked over, taking seats by him, handing him a pint of beer. He took it, but didn’t drink, just holding it in his hands.

“Ori, what’s wrong lad?” Balin asked, shooting him a concerned look. Ori glanced up, biting his lower lip and looking concerned.

“It’s… it’s about Master Bilbo.” He admitted with a sigh.

“Ori, we’re all upset about what happened-“ Bofur started, but Ori cut him off, shaking his head.

“No it’s not that! I thought… I thought I saw something. Under Master Bilbo’s shirt.”

“Like what?”

“I thought I saw his soul mate’s mark…” He murmured, taking a small sip of the beer. Bofur blinked.

“You did?”

Most of the dwarves in the company had met their soul mates. Kili and Fili had each other’s mark for years, and had been inseparable since they appeared. Bifur’s own soul mate had died in the battle of Erebor, a contributing factor to his state of mind today. Balin’s own mate had never been met, and Dwalin hadn’t met his either. Ori’s apparently was some human woman in some village, and Gloin’s wife was back home with his son. Bofur had met his, and had yet to tell the one about their status. Bombur had been born without a mark on his chest, a sad fate, but one the fat dwarf did not mind.

Thorin had not even made an attempt to go looking for his.

“So what did it look like?” Balin inquired, and that’s when a look of fear crossed Ori’s face.

“That’s… that’s the thing. It was the color of green, I’m pretty sure.”

Balin and Bofur’s stomachs dropped, their eyes widening as they both dropped their beer, letting it clatter to the floor.

A green mark. The mark of rejection. All people of middle earth feared that mark. It was rare to see one, since most died a week or so after being rejected by their soul mate. It didn’t happen often- soul mates were called soul mates for a reason- but when it did, it was a fate worse then anything else. Knowing the other half of you didn’t want you… It was said to drive some mad.

But… Bilbo had been rejected? Who would reject Bilbo? Yes, he had taken the Arkenstone and given it away, but that didn’t mean he was a bad person… Balin had to quickly check his chest to see if his mark had changed to the customary blue color of a rejecter, and was relieved to see that it was normal. He didn’t want to be the one to have done that to Bilbo.

But if it wasn’t him… then who could have…?

He froze again, and covered his mouth, turning quickly to look at Thorin, who was sitting alone at a table, drinking ale quietly. He rushed to his feet, and walked over, grabbing Thorin and yanking his shirt up to check his chest.

“Balin what are you-!” Balin shot a look at the king, pulling another one of his layers up. He’d deal with his punishment later. He had to know if Thorin was the one. They could fix this if it was, they could save Bilbo.

And to his horror, Thorin’s mark was an angry blue color.

“Aule’s beard…” The older dwarf whispered, pulling his hand away. “You were his soul mate.”

Thorin looked confused, lifting his own shirt to look at his chest, and froze himself. Balin watched as his eyes widened, and a small look of horror began to travel across his features.

“No… the hobbit… it can’t be…” Thorin whispered, fingers trembling slightly as he touched the tree. He got to his feet, and passed Balin by roughly, running out of the room.

Balin hoped Thorin would get to the hobbit in time to correct the rejection, before it became permanent for the both of them. He sunk down into the empty chair, covering his face, ignoring all of the shocked looks traveling around the room.

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Thorin rode his pony hard, gripping the reigns with a white knuckled hand. Bilbo. Bilbo was his soul mate. The hobbit who’d stolen his Arkenstone and given it away. The hobbit that had proven him wrong time after the time. The hobbit that he’d sent away, rejecting everything Bilbo was supposed to be to him in his blind rage.

The hobbit that was going to die if he didn’t get to him and mend the bond he had broken without knowing.

I can’t let him die. After everything he’s done, he is still my hobbit. I didn’t mean to reject him. I forgive him, I FORGIVE HIM.

Bilbo would be so ahead of him already, but Thorin knew that if he kept riding hard like this, he would catch the other before the morning, but he feared that it would be too late.

He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he were too late.

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Bilbo had begun to feel fainter and fainter as he traveled on. His veins had turned a dark green, faster then any rejection he’d ever heard of. At this rate, he’d be dead even before he got a quarter of the way home.

At least I tried to get there.

Bilbo slumped more in his seat, energy fading even more, his hands letting the reigns drop to hand around the pony’s neck. His feet got bumped out of the stirrups, and he slowly slid and fell to the ground, mud splattering over him as he lay limply. His breathing was shallow, fingers twitching ever so slightly as he closed his eyes, feeling the first new drops of rain begin to fall down, hitting his face.

Appropriate. Dying in the rain.

Mother would be horrified if she knew what was happening, he vaguely thought to himself, waiting for the inevitable end. She’d start yelling to get up and try to keep moving. That it isn’t the end.

Sorry mom. I guess I’ll be seeing you sooner then I thought...

Bilbo was about to let go of everything, and slip into the great beyond, when he heard hoof beats, coming closer and closer, until something dismounted and hit the ground with a splash. They ran over, and dropped by his side, cupping his face and stroking the skin. He forced his eyes open, wondering who had found him.

It was Thorin.

His eyes were wide with fear, and his hair soaked by the rain.

“Bilbo! I accept you!” He practically yelled, lifting Bilbo up into his arms, holding him to his chest. “I accept you. Please oh please.” His voice was desperate. "Don't you dare die!"

He accepts me…? He’s not rejecting me?...

“Don’t die Bilbo. Please. I can’t loose another thing that was supposed to be mine.” The dwarf's voice is broken, muffled by the rain, his words sliding under Bilbo's skin.

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Bilbo isn’t talking. He isn’t speaking. He’s just laying in Thorin’s arms weakly, green at the edge of his face. He’s close, Thorin knows. He might be too late.

But Bilbo takes in a sudden deep breath, veins shining into a hot red, and Thorin looks down to see a red glow shining through his own veins, and pulled his shirt down to look at the mark over his heart, the blue seeping away.

Thank Aule.

He pulled Bilbo to his chest even tighter again, letting a broken breathe escape his lungs, more rain soaking them, as Bilbo weakly gripped at Thorin’s shirt.

“I’m not going to go anywhere…” He whispered, voice broken and hurt, as he looked up at Thorin. “As long as… you’ll have me here…”

“Of course.” Thorin murmured, pressing his forehead to Bilbo’s. “You don’t have to leave. You don’t have to go.” He laid a kiss on the hobbits forehead. "You don't ever have to go."

End

Chapter 2: Recovery
Summary:

Bilbo recovers from the rejection.

End Notes:

I'm guessing dwarves would know a lot about brain damage since a lot of them seem to hit their heads a lot. And Thorin seems to pine like a 15-year-old girl. Except without the blushing and excessive fangirling.

I wrote that nightmare scene while listening to Creepy Mansion by Acid Paradox (It's dubstep ;;)

By the way, ALL of my stories are UNBETA'd

If you're interested in being my beta, comment below. I'm asking on FF.net too, so whoever I pick, i'm going to be checking out your profiles, etc..

I usually post my stories first, then they get beta'd, then I switch the documents out to match the corrected one.

Recovery

Thorin had carried Bilbo back on his horse, leading the hobbit's pony behind them on a lead, holding the other close. Bilbo was barely conscious, fainting soon after Thorin had accepted him. Thorin had freaked out a bit then- he honestly believed that maybe Bilbo had died after all, but when it became apparent that Bilbo still had a pulse, he'd breathed a sigh of relief.

The ride back to Erebor was made in haste, or at least, as hastily as he could make it. Ponies really were not as quick footed as horses sadly. And holding onto Bilbo while directing his horse seemed to be a more difficult task then he had thought it to be when he began.

Thorin found himself dwelling more and more on the topic of Bilbo and him being his Soul Mate, something he hadn't been able to do when he was rushing to save the hobbit's life.

Bilbo of course would have to live with him at Erebor until the side effects of the rejection wore away enough for him to travel to help Thorin on diplomatic relations. He couldn't go back to the shire- that was out of the question.

No Soul Mate of a king would be living in a hole in the ground. No, Bilbo would live in the finest of luxury and comfort. He would make sure the hobbit would never want for anything- he would fix the wrong he had done Bilbo.

He would fix it.

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They arrived back at the lonely mountain an hour or two later, walking in on a swinging gait slowly. He dismounted once they got to a stable, lifting Bilbo back into his arms carefully2holding him to his chest. He walked right back into Erebor, ignoring the looks some dwarves were giving the two, wondering why their king was carrying the hobbit he had banished no half a day before.

Hoisting the hobbit a bit higher as he climbed the steps that would lead him to the infirmary. He needed Bilbo to be looked over by the healer, to make sure that there was no brain damage caused by the rejection. Thorin had heard of some that got accepted after a rejection could suffer from this, and would be slightly off in the head forever. Add that to the problems that Bilbo would have anyway, and it made Thorin feel even worse.

He could be the cause of Bilbo's demise with a single word if he wanted. He could kill Bilbo just as easily as he could save him. The morbidity of the Soul Marks wasn't something most understood- and now Thorin had that understanding. He knew why some Elves feared the marks. He understood why sometimes, being without a mark was better then being marked. He felt a flash of jealousy towards Bombur, who was free of the confines of a Soul Mark. Bombur could choose whom to love, if they were without a Soul Mate as well.

He pushed the infirmary door open with some difficulty, walking in with a sway of regal air, some of the people in the infirmary bowing as he entered, then walking over as quickly as they could, as he set the hobbit down on one of the snowy white beds.

Gloin's wife, the head nurse of the castle, quickly began going over Bilbo, pulling his eyelids open to check his pupils. She was seen as the height of dwarf beauty in females, her dirty blond hair pulled back into a bun, her side burns running all the way down to her chin, where it connected into a beard. She was muscled, her arms strong from lifting and carrying various items. Gloin boasted a lot how his wife was a warrior when she wanted to be, even better then his own son Gimli.

"What happened to Master Bilbo?"

"I rejected him." His voice is dryer then intended. "I did not know he was my Soul Mate, and he left without telling me. Balin noticed something and figured out that I was his mate, and I had to ride to get Bilbo."

"How long was he rejected?"

"4 hours at most. Maybe 3." Thorin didn't really know how much time had passed from when he had made Bilbo leave to when he found him.

"Oh dear, that's not good… I'll get Master Gandalf to come in and run a spell over him to check his head!" Gloin's wife said, nodding as she waved a male dwarf over, quickly telling him to go fetch Gandalf. "It's lucky that Master Gandalf isn't supposed to leave till tomorrow!" She pulled Bilbo's shirt open to check his mark, the tree a faint red, edges gray, and a mixture of yellow in the depths of everything.

It surprised Thorin to know Bilbo still had affection for him. The hobbit had said he forgiven Thorin for what he did…. But it was hard to believe for the king, who so desperately wanted it to be true.

"No green left to be seen… that's good…" The nurse murmured, as she pressed on areas around the mark and on the hobbits hairy chest, testing for hard spots, or spots that were too soft. She wouldn't be able to perform a full examination until the hobbit was awake, and could actually give her a list of areas that didn't feel right to him. Otherwise, it was absolutely impossible to know how far he had gone in reality. Thorin could have found Bilbo right before he was going to collapse, not die. Or it could be the other way round. He could have been going into a coma. The list just when on and on, all of the different options continuing to rush through the dwarfs brain like wildfire.

He should be calming himself, breathing slowly so he could keep a level head, but he was finding that impossible, the worry he felt for the hobbit overriding everything else he wanted or needed to do. The king had never actually done well when worrying about another. He may look calm and collected to anyone around him, but in reality he was screaming in his head, doing what he was doing now.

Over thinking every possible outcome for what was happening.

Gloin's wife glanced up at him, and gave him a sympathetic look. "Why don't you take a seat, my lord? You would be more comfortable." He nodded, instantly sitting in the nearby chair, eyes riveted to Bilbo's face. He ripped them away for a moment to look at the nurse.

"I thought I told you that you could call me Thorin like your husband, my lady." He muttered, hand avertedly finding Bilbo's one, holding it limply. It was colder then his own, feeling stiff almost.

It felt like the hand of someone who was dead. He quickly cast that away in a hurry- Bilbo was alive; he could see his chest rising and falling softly.

"I know." Gloin's wife's voice makes him look up again. "But you seem to need the respect at the moment." The woman had always been able to figure out others feelings with an ease that could only be from being a mother. "And I told you to call me Fria."

He nodded again, eyes traveling back to Bilbo, face looking emotionless. "Of course. Fria." He murmured.

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Bilbo felt trapped in his own mind. He was in a building, a mansion of epic proportions. No matter were he turned, he was trapped. He couldn't find the exit.

And someone was following him. Someone who wanted to kill him. It made him run, to go as fast as he could, but somehow, the evil man was always behind him, a knife in his hand,

"I'm going to kill you, hobbit." His voice is raspy and dark, and it almost sounded like whoever the pursuer was, their voice had an almost echo in his head.

It's just a dream.

"I'm going to cut your throat." Bilbo turned another corner, nearly falling over himself as he tried to go faster, breathing hard. "I'm going to let your blood fall onto the ground in waves."

The voice sounded like it was right by his ear, but when he looked, no one was there, and his breathing sky rocketed, the terror rushing through him like fire.

He was going to die.

He scrambled to get around the next corner, having the choice of going right or left. He went left, and saw the long stretch of hallway in front of him. He turned around for a moment, and heard the heavy sound of footsteps coming from the way he had just turned out of, and gasped, turning back around and beginning to run even faster. His heart was beating in his chest like a drum; the beats so loud that he swore that this must be the reason the man could still find him.

It's just a dream.

The hallway just seemed to go on forever and forever, never ending walls of white and floors of black. Sweat soaked the hobbit's shirt right through, weighing him down as he tried to escape.

He finally came to a right turn, and took it.

It was a dead end.

Itsjustadream-

He turned around, but the way he had come was gone. He was trapped in a room with no doors. No windows.

And the man was here.

But it wasn't a man, like he had thought.

It was Thorin, Sting gripped in his hand, a sick smile on his lips as he lifted the blade, then rammed it right through he place where his Soul Mark was.

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Bilbo shot up in the hospital bed, letting out a scream of terror that echoed through the infirmary. He clutched at his bare chest, touching the mark to feel to hotter skin, shaking hard. Thorin sat up immediately next to him, grabbing Bilbo's shoulders.

"Bilbo! Calm yourself!" He said, holding the struggling hobbit down, seeing the others wild eyes, feral and full of fear. What had the hobbit dreamt that had terrified him so?

"NO! NO, NO, NO!" The hobbit kept on saying no, kicking and bucking under Thorin, hands trying to push Thorin off. "DON'T KILL ME, DON'T KILL ME!"

Don't kill him? Did the hobbit think he was going to kill him?

Fria seemed to appear out of nowhere, pressing a hand to Bilbo's head, keeping it still. "Shhh, Master Bilbo. Calm yourself, your safe." She said soothingly, stoking sweat-matted hair from Bilbo's eyes, making his eyes jerk to her face, staring into her calm face. Slowly, Bilbo's breathing slowed, pupils returning to a regular size.

"Miss F-Fria?" His voice came out as a small whimper, as Thorin let go of his captured limbs, moving back slightly, letting the nurse do her thing, even though all Thorin wanted to do was take Bilbo into his arms and protect him, comfort him. He wanted to be his shield against the world forever.

Though that could be more of his Soul Mark governing his thoughts. Dwarves became very protective once they had accepted their Soul Mate, often locking them in a room for several days or weeks to keep them away from others.

It was seen as very embarrassing as well, if someone witnessed such possessiveness; so Thorin hold himself back barely from ripping Fria away from Bilbo.

"Bilbo, can you tell me how you feel?"

Bilbo tried to sit up, but let out a groan, flopping back on the pillows, struggling to make words. "D-Disconnected…" Fria nodded, quickly writing it down on a piece of parchment. "M-My head ache… chest burns a bit…"

"It seems you were just going to pass out with Thorin found you then." She sighed in relief, shaking her head. "Thank Aule. That means you have no brain damage as I feared. Master Gandalf will not have to scan you anymore when he arrives, though his input would be welcome on how to treat you."

Bilbo blinked at that, looking confused.

"Of course! Rejection is like breaking your body down all the way to the form of a child. Your muscles will have almost completely burned up, and after everything settles in, we need to start teaching you how to speak again! That little outburst you had there probably used up all the muscle power you had left!" She gave him a confident smile. "I'm sure you can do it. With Thorin here to help you, it'll be as easy as slicing a Orc head off!"

The hobbit nodded again, lying limply on the bed as he closed his eyes, breathing out heavily. Thorin could only feel relief go through him- he knew Bilbo could have had a much worse fate. Some that went to far lose the ability to breathe or eat, or their digestive systems wouldn't be able to do anything. Bilbo would just have to regain the muscle mass he'd lost and learn to speak again, the lightest punishment from being rejected.

"I'm happy to see you well…" Thorin murmured, hand resting Bilbo's again, stroking the skin slightly. Bilbo blinked, obviously surprised by this, and Thorin could still feel the wariness Bilbo had, his eyes betraying him.

Why was Bilbo wary of him? Was it because of what had happened? Or was it because of the startling nightmare he'd just had?

"Do you wish for me to leave so you have time to think?" He asked, pulling his hand away. Bilbo nodded a bit quickly, and a pang went through Thorin. A part of him was screaming at him that he was an idiot, and that he should stay by the hobbits side, but the more rational part was saying that he needed to give Bilbo space, no matter how much he wanted to swoop the smaller into his arms.

Thorin stood, giving a nod to Fria across the room, before turning and walking out of the infirmary, leaving Bilbo to his thoughts and devices.

When the doors closed behind him with a loud clang, he glanced back, fingers digging into his palms, breathing a bit quickly. He had to do something to distract himself.

Thorin then walked back down the hall, deciding he would organize an Orc hunt to take his mind off things.

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Bilbo breathed out heavily once Thorin left, staring at the ceiling with a heavy heart. He didn't mean to make the other think he feared him- the dream was still echoing through him, over and over.

Was the dream because of the rejection? Or was it his subconscious telling him to leave now before it could happen again? That Thorin would be the death of him?

He didn't know the answers to any of them, and he couldn't ask anyone for answers. His voice was barely even there, his mind fumbling on what to say and how to form letters.

The hobbit would have to find his answer by himself, it seemed. A daunting task that would take much time to find out, he knew, because the answer would become clearer as his relationship with the king progressed.

If it progressed, Bilbo reminded himself. He looked down at his chest, noting the colors it was. It was still the king's red, but gray was coming up to roots, yellow faint in the crown hovering over the tree.

There was hope for their relationship, no matter what had happened between them. As long as that tree stayed red, and the gray did not persist any higher, they would be fine.

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The weeks went by at a terribly sluggish pace. Each of the dwarves of their company visited, either wishing congratulations or just wanting to see their bed ridden burglar and maybe help him get better a little at a time. Bilbo was able to speak a little more with every day, and had progressed to the point where he could sit up without help. Lifting his arms was still too much strain on him, and he couldn't feed himself at all. When he had tried, the food had spilt all over his front, and Bofur had to feed the rest of the porridge to him, laughing that he had to be patient.

Thorin visited him everyday, talking to him for several hours at a time, even thought most of that time was spent with him just letting words out, since Bilbo still couldn't form a good side of a conversation yet. He would talk about Erebor politics, the coming and going of their friends, some gossip here and there…

He really was making an effort.

Bilbo continued to have nightmares about Thorin though. At first it was where Thorin was hurting him, chasing him like he had been in the first one, or it was Thorin in mortal danger. It was like his mind couldn't make up its mind about the king. Like it was trying to decide if Thorin was a danger, or something Bilbo had to protect danger from.

Bilbo really wished it would already decide. A hobbit's subconscious knew best, that's what his mother had told him. She hadn't been wrong yet. When he had first met the company, he had dreamt of the journey, the wonder, and instantly in the morning, he woke and wad longing heavier in his chest. He'd glanced around his home for the dwarves, but they had been gone.

For a moment he had been relieved, but then he had slapped himself in the head for feeling that way. He'd packed his bags as quick as he could, signed the paper, and ran after them as swiftly as a hobbit could.

Which was pretty fast actually, since he'd caught up in about a good 40 minutes running.

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It had now been about 3 weeks since his rejection from Thorin, and Bilbo was sitting in the rooms he had been moved to after the first week. The bed was soft, and it clung to him like the embrace of a very large lover. Apparently, Thorin's rooms were directly to the right of his, and this was the room used for the Soul Mate of the king if they didn't want to be in the same bed as him. In this case it was a combination of that, and his health.

He didn't want to be in the same bed as Thorin so he didn't kick the dwarf to death as he went through his nightmares. Bilbo knew Thorin could hear him some nights, and it must be as hard as anything not to burst in here and help Bilbo. But Thorin respected Bilbo's need to do things himself, and stayed away at night to give him that chance. He suspected that he was making plans behind his back however, for when if Bilbo's nightmares still didn't go away.

Bilbo shakily lifted his arm from his side, holding it as far as he could over his head, splaying his fingers out one by one. It shook with the strain, but he refused to let the limb fall back to his side, biting his lip as hard as he could, sweat rolling down his forehead as he worked. He began to lift his other arm up, repeating the previous actions with the other hands fingers, feeling as if he was lifting tree trunks instead of flesh and bone.

They fell to his sides after a long while, Bilbo breathing like he'd just run a marathon to the Shire and back on one foot, forehead drenched, as a small grin spread across his lips. That had been the longest he had been able to keep his arms up yet. Maybe in the coming days he could try going on his feet for a few moments, or at least his knees.

That would just be absolutely amazing. It made him rise out of his slightly depressed stupor with that thought, the nightmares going right to the back of his head, thoughts about them going right out the window. Recovery was just at his fingertips. In three more weeks, he might be able to walk through Erebor and even to Dale.

In a month he could go back to the Shire, and back to his home in Bag End. He could be surrounded by his books and by his garden. He would be able to breath in the fresh air, and hear the laughs of hobbit children through the air. All of the good things about the Shire.

But… it made him think about what Thorin would want to do. Would Thorin let him leave to go back to the Shire? Or would he make Bilbo stay here, with him, instead of letting him go back to the place he still thought of home.

Their relationship wouldn't turn into a rejected one if Bilbo left of his own fruition, instead of being forced to go from Erebor. Their mark would slowly turn brown, yellow becoming the color of the crown most likely. Brown was the color of a separated bond pair, and once the pair was reunited, instantly it would flash back to the colors it had been before. If the couple were still close, of course. Otherwise it would go to a deep gray, and the two would have to work on renewing their bond to the best of their abilities.

Yes, that's what they'd do. If his mind decided Thorin wasn't going to hurt him. If it decided Thorin was, well…

That meant a much longer, complicated journey would have begun for them, Bilbo knew, closing his eyes as he sighed. Life would be a lot harder for the both of them.

------------------

As Bilbo had thought, a week later he was finally able to stand on his own. He used the bed as support, leaning on it heavily, but he was able to take a couple steps. Most of his friends were in the room, along with Fria, who was standing by her husband with a watchful eye, as the rest of them looked like they were all ready to dive in and catch him if he fell. Thorin was at his side, a hand out reached so if Bilbo thought he was going to fall; he could grab it to steady himself.

Bilbo pulled his hands away from the bed, walking out slowly from the safe zone, breathing hard as he began to move without any support from the bed or Thorin. More pride rushed through him as he took another step, feeling weak in the knees but otherwise fine. It was when he took a 3rd step, his right leg gave out, and he fell. Thorin caught him immediately, pulling the hobbit up before he could slam into the hard stone floor.

Thorin helped Bilbo back to the bed, making him sit on the edge as Fria walked over quickly, kneeling by Bilbo and began prodding at his right leg, checking it over. She made a noise in the back of her throat, shaking her head with a sigh as she looked back at Bilbo. "Not good. The muscles are in a much worse state then I'd thought they'd be. Your left leg seems to be good, but this one is brittle. I'm afraid you're going to have to use a cane for quite some time, Bilbo."

Bilbo nodded, swallowing slightly at the thought of using a cane. He hadn't thought he'd be using one of those until he was much older.

"Once we get you one, you'll be able to walk around a bit more, but you must have one of these fine fellows by your side at all times." She stood, patting him on the cheek as she smiled. "I'll go put in a order for one with Master Gandalf. He makes the best there is when it comes to canes, trust me!"

With that she bundled out of the room, waving to Gloin, who had a star struck expression as he watched his Soul Mate leave, looking dreamy. That's what he looked like most of the time when Fria was around him, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. It made most of his friends sick when they around him like that, but they all did that around their respective Soul Mates as well.

Bilbo snuck a look at Thorin, who look steadfast as ever.

Thorin never wore that love struck expression around him.

--------------------

Thorin rubbed his eyes as he sat in his study, head pounding as he let out a groan, face feeling overheated. Lately, whenever he left the hobbit in his rooms, he'd begin to have a fever and this searing headache, and it would only go away when he was close to the hobbit.

Fria had told him it was mostly because the bond was telling him he needed to be by Bilbo's side right now instead of doing work, but Thorin wanted to give Bilbo the space he needed.

He visited everyday though, talking to him and conversing.

He hadn't expected to fall in love with the hobbit like that. Not even with him responding sometimes, or them just sitting next to each other in silence…

Thorin had fallen hard for the hobbit, and he keep on hitting himself for letting it happen so flippantly. He'd always believed that it would take him years to get to where he was now, but somehow Bilbo had just drawn him out. He had never realized how much of a great person the hobbit was, never really holding any lengthy conversations until their bond was discovered.

He covered his eyes, breathing out deeply.

Bilbo probably didn't even feel like this towards him. He had nearly killed the hobbit, after all.

He laid his head on his desk face down, letting out a grumble of curses.

Stupid Aule damnned hobbits.

----------------------

Bilbo sat up in bed, sweating heavily as usual, the dream heavy in his mind, another nightmare where Thorin had died from his injuries from the last battle. The last couple nights had been filled with dreams like that, the dreams where Thorin was harming him long gone.

He stumbled over the edge of the bed, picking his plain robe up and pulling it open with some difficulty, tying it up, then grabbed his cane. He walked out of his room with a limping gate, his right leg complaining at being used. He ignored the pain, pushing Thorin's door open and stepping in. Thorin was lying in his bed from what the hobbit could see, fast asleep, his hair spread out along the pillow. He breathed a sigh of relief, walking over to look down at him.

Even in his sleep, Thorin looked upset, fingers gripping the sheets, a frown gracing his strong features. Bilbo leaned closer, stroking some hair away from the others face with a gentle hand.

He froze for a moment when Thorin shifted, but it was only to press his face more into Bilbo's hand, seemingly relaxing. He smiled slightly, sitting on the edge of the bed now, not moving his hand. The others sheet had fallen down slightly, revealing a slightly bare chest, and the mark on his chest. Bilbo's smile faded instantly when he saw it.

The tree was a bright red, as well as the crown. He stared for a moment, opening and closing his mouth, shocked. His own tree was red of course, the gray diminished into nothing, but it was nothing compared to the color of Thorin's. Both of their marks had the red in it before the bonding, Bilbo's tree being red, and Thorin's crown red, but then it had just been because Thorin was royalty. Royal marks were red.

Something that had made him even more confused before he met Thorin. His mother had told him that the color could have also meant that he and his Soul Mate were one of a kind- in love through lives. That they had been reincarnated several times for him to get a red mark right off the bat.

However, this vibrancy of red was only saved for one who had truly fallen.

'He's this in love with me?'

Bilbo had known that Thorin had gained more affection for him as the weeks passed, but he hadn't thought that Thorin was quite in love with him yet. He ran his other hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. He could pretend he had never seen the mark, and let Thorin tell him on his own, or he could tell Thorin in the morning that his feelings were returned.

He bit his lip, and stood, but his right leg screeched in pain, and he had to sit next to Thorin once more.

Another problem. He couldn't leave the room. With the help of the cane he'd been able to make it over here, but he doubted he could make it back to his room, even with the support.

Just perfect. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Hobbit?" His head jerked to look at Thorin, who was blinking sleepily at him, looking somehow adorably confused. He felt his heart twist, and gave the other a soft smile.

"Sorry for waking you. I'll head back to my room." Or at least he would try to head back to his room. He might have to crawl a bit to get there.

Thorin shook his head, still half asleep it seemed, as he moved over, lfiting the blanket up. "No… just come here. You can sleep in here tonight." He said, voice still laden with sleep. Bilbo blinked, cheeks rising slightly in a slight flush, but nodded, setting his cane to the side. He felt as if that arguing with a king, even a sleepy king, was not the best of ideas. Bilbo laid down next to him, feeling Thorin laid the covers back over them both. Then he moved closer to Bilbo again, a arm going around his waist to pull the other to him.

The dwarf king fell back asleep in seconds, snoring softly again, much more at ease it seemed with his Soul Mate next to him.

Bilbo relaxed involuntarily as well, and after a few moments, found himself drifting off as well, not even thinking about Thorin's reaction when he woke the next morning.

----------------------

When Thorin had awoken that morning, he hadn't even batted an eye, but now Bilbo could see the secret pleasure in the dwarf's eyes at having Bilbo in his bed. He'd just told Bilbo to stay there while he went to get him a change of clothes. Bilbo had sat there with a confused look, before he'd realized that he indeed had slept in Thorin's bed.

That had made Thorin hide a secret grin from the other, shaking his head as he left to go get his clothes.

end

Chapter 3: Conflict and Domesticality
Summary:

Bilbo and Thorin fight a bit, but then get all domestic in the Shire

End Notes:

Ehhh, It got a bit choppy at the end ;;

I keep on typing Shite instead of Shire.

Conflict and Domesticality

Bilbo sat at the desk in Thorin's room, a leather-bound book set out in front of him, as he turned a page slowly, reading the words spread out with tired eyes. Homesickness brewed in the hobbit's stomach like a heavy stone, making the last few weeks in Erebor harder to get through. Even though he was well enough to walk, he was confined to the castle, and the mated pair hadn't even breached the topic of him going back to his birthplace.

Thorin had been busy of late, the politics of Erebor taking up much of his time during the day. He'd stumble into their now shared room late into the evening, barely able to strip his boots and heavy armor off, before falling into a deep sleep next to Bilbo. This had been the pattern for the last week, and Bilbo was beginning to get irritated slightly.

Yes, he knew Thorin couldn't help it. He was a king, he had duties, but he also had duties to him. They had only been bonded for 3 months, 2 of those Bilbo had spent in recovery. They knew their feelings towards each other, but hadn't even taken any steps to admitting it out loud. Bilbo had tried a couple times, but choked up on the words with every single try, then had to quickly make up something else to say.

The king had given him a look, but had passed the attitude of the other off, oblivious to the fact that the hobbit was trying to make their relationship progress more.

That added to Bilbo's want to be surrounded by people that loved him, and who would sit down for a good amount of time and talk about books and gardening. Bofur had attempted to do that, sitting with him for an hour or two the day before, but the conversation had turned to other things such as toy making when the dwarf realized he honestly knew nothing about gardening. Bilbo had respected the others need to not look foolish, and had gone along with the conversation still after that.

The hobbit pushed back from the desk, grabbing his cane from its resting spot and leaning on it as he stumbled over to the far corner, where a small table was set up with maps all over it. He leaned over the desk, fingers brushing against the paper as he smoothed the world map out, examining it. Bilbo let a finger trail over the route they had taken to get to the Lonely Mountain in the first place, the memories running through his mind.

The Mirkwood.

The fight against Azog.

Gollum's cave.

All of it made it seem like he hadn't been back to his lonely home in Bag End in decades, not the 7 months that had passed.

That just made his need to go back even firmer in his gut, and he stood up straighter. That was it. He would go to the Shire as soon as he could. Thorin wouldn't mind he bet- it would give him even more time to focus on governing Erebor while he was away. Yes, it'd be perfect. He wouldn't stay in the Shire permanently of course- no only for a couple months, and then he'd be back as soon as he could.

Bilbo smiled softly, nodding to himself as he began marking out the quickest route to the Shire on the map, leaning against the table as he set his cane down, picking a piece of charcoal up to make the small marks that would lead him back to his birthplace.

He'd eventually pulled a chair over so he could sit down and go over the map, chewing on his lip as he worked. He would go by the safest route, along the trade routes and rivers. He would even stop in Rivendale when he got near and spend a night or two there.

Bilbo would be sure to avoid any danger. He could bring one of the dwarves with him just in case though, if Thorin thought he needed one once he informed the other of his plan. He was pretty sure the other would, understanding him well enough by now to know that Thorin was erm… very over protective.

It seemed like hours had passed until he finally got the final route down on the paper, smudges of charcoal all over his hands and on the map. He'd apologize for that as well once Thorin got back in. He felt a smile of pride spread across his lips, sighing as he stretched, yawning slightly.

The door behind him clicked then, a creak emitting from it as it was pushed open. Bilbo looked over his shoulder, blinking slightly, then smiled widely as he saw it was Thorin. He was back earlier then he had the previous couple nights.

"Ah, Thorin!" He stood from his seat as quickly as he could, cane clutched again in his fist as he walked over. "How was the council?"

The dwarf grunted slightly, discarding his coat and armor onto the floor, rolling his shoulders to stretch the muscles out. Bags were under his eyes, but at least they weren't as bad as the previous nights.

"They were idiots as usual." He muttered, sitting down on their bed, pulling his shirt off and throwing it to land on the other discarded clothes. The mark on his chest stood proudly out of his chest hair, as he laid back down onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Bilbo sat next to him, laying a hand on his leg and rubbing soothing circles.

"Have you thought maybe letting Balin or even Dain take care of your duties for a bit? Your exhausted Thorin." Bilbo murmured. Thorin shook his head, a groan escaping his lips as he sat back up, resting his head on Bilbo's shoulders, his hair draping down the other like a curtain almost.

"No. Those two are both in the Mirkwood with the elves." He muttered, voice dry. "It's fine. I can do this."

Bilbo didn't push any more on that topic, knowing that once Thorin said no, changing his mind was absolutely impossible really. He moved onto the next topic on his small agenda.

"Thorin, I've been thinking lately…." He began, sighing. "I'd like to go back to the Shire."

Thorin grunted, acknowledging that he had heard Bilbo, gazing at nothing in particular across the room.

"Are you fine with it…?"

"It would just be a visit, right?" Thorin asked, brushing his fingers over Bilbo's wrist. The hobbit frowned slightly, glancing at the other.

"Well… ah I suppose. I was hoping to spend a couple months there. Maybe a year."

Thorin stopped moving slightly, and then moved away, scowling. "Absolutely no then." He growled out, eyes flashing. "You can't just leave for a year."

"I said maybe a year-"

"I said no!" Thorin snapped, sitting up even straighter, his hands clenched into fists on his lap.

"But I-"

"No Bilbo!" Thorin got to his feet, back turned to him. "Just drop it. Your not going back to the Shire, and that's it on the topic."

Bilbo felt unwelcome anger flash through his chest, and he stood up as well, frowning. "No! I'm not going to drop it! I miss the Shire! I need to go home!"

"This is your home!"

"This is your home, Thorin, not mine! You were the one who was born and raised here, I wasn't! I was raised in the Shire, around the nature and simplicity of it!" He raised his voice, stepping closer to the others back.

Thorin swirled to face him, eyes burning. "I will have no more of this!"

Then he slammed out of their shared bedroom, leaving Bilbo standing there, steaming mad at him. For once could Thorin stop being so pig headed? It would be for a year at the max, 6 months in the least! He'd return right after the time was up!

Why was Thorin so against him leaving? He knew how Bilbo felt about the other. They could survive fading into a brown mark for a bit. No long lasting harm would be done.

He sunk down to sit back down on the bed, rubbing his eyes with a small groan.

He wondered if he would ever understand Thorin.

------------------

Thorin stormed out of the castle and onto the outside wall, red in the face slightly from his anger. Slowly though, as the cold air rushed against his bare chest, he felt himself begin to calm down.

He hadn't meant to blow up like that. He felt guilty as soon as he thought about the argument he and Bilbo had just shared. Thorin didn't know exactly why, but somehow, the hobbit always made him so emotional. He blamed the bond for most of that, but he felt inside that maybe it just had to do with how he felt about the hobbit.

"Aule's sake…" He muttered under his breath, leaning on the brick that made up the edge of the wall, rubbing at his face with a groan. He should have handled that much better, and certainly not have stormed out like a small child who hadn't gotten his way. He was a full-grown dwarf, and Bilbo was a full-grown hobbit. Adults sat down and talked about things. They didn't scream their opinions out without even listening.

He looked up at the starry sky, expression sour. Bilbo must feel homesick, to have fought back like that. Usually the other would quiet down after he first said no, something that had actually bothered Thorin slightly. Bilbo had never been so submissive, so it must have to do with something Thorin did when he rejected the others proposal. How he held himself maybe? Or his expression?

Whatever it was, it'd have to wait. He had to think of a good reason to convince Bilbo not to go back to the Shire, even though he was feeling homesick. Thorin had just gotten the other comfortable with him; their relationship was just beginning- he couldn't just go across the map to the Shire so soon. Maybe in a couple more months Bilbo could. Just… not now.

He hoped he could explain that well enough to him without getting mad.

Thorin turned around, and headed back inside, taking deep breaths as he walked slowly, trying to keep his heart rate down and his demeanor relaxing. He wanted to present a logical, caring partner to Bilbo when he got back into their room. Someone who could be reasoned with.

He found it very difficult to keep that going as he neared the bedroom, heart rate slowly rising as he thought about the other, and thought about the potential argument that was about to sprout up.

He pushed the door open with a swift movement, opening his mouth, but then closed it with a deflating sigh.

Bilbo was fast asleep on their bed, a frown marring his usually peaceful face even in sleep. Thorin glanced at the candle Balin had gotten him that told time, noticing how far the wick had gone. It was already so late. Had he really been outside thinking so long?

The argument would obviously have to wait for Bilbo to be awake the next morning. Thorin sat down on the edge, carding his fingers through the strands of his Soul Mate's hair, feeling weary and drained. He lay down next to the Halfling, shifting him over slightly so he could lie down, and then pulled Bilbo to his chest. Bilbo was slightly cold, and he muttered things about stupid hobbits that didn't use blankets.

He laid a soft kiss to Bilbo's forehead, letting it linger for a couple seconds, before pulling away, letting the others small breaths and little noises in his sleep lull him into a deep slumber, the hobbit pulled to him tightly.

---------------------

Bilbo awoke the next morning feeling warm and safe in an individual's arms. Which confused the hobbit since he had gone to sleep alone in the large bed last night, once Thorin had stormed out like there was a war at hand. Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking the sleep from them, looking at the warm body he was pressed to.

Of course it was Thorin who had him hugged to his chest like a child's soft toy. Bilbo sighed, squirming a bit to escape the king's grip, body twisting out after a couple minutes. He stood up a bit slowly, stretching out his limbs with a loud groan, feeling a couple joints crack as he did. He glanced back at Thorin, noting how peaceful the other looked. A lot of times when Bilbo awoke, Thorin would be wearing a frown on his face, like even in his dreams he was in an argument with someone. He never asked what Thorin dreamed about to make him frown, but he would hear the other grumble about it.

He was dying to know of course, but he didn't want to intrude. It sounded stupid to even think that- he should be intruding on the other they were Soul Mates for gods sake! But, Thorin never bugged him about things that bugged Bilbo, so… It was fair, right?

He rubbed his eyes again, groaning as he grabbed his cane, leaning on it as he walked over to an armchair, sitting down with a loud groan. Bilbo glanced down at his leg with a bit of disdain in his eyes, irritated by the half useless limb. His eyes then traveled to look at the still sleeping dwarf.

Thorin would not let him go to the Shire. That was something Bilbo was absolutely positive about.

And it was something Bilbo wasn't just about to drop.

The body on the bed moved then, a noise escaping the waking king. Bilbo watched as the other sit up, rubbing his eyes as he stretched, muscles stretching under his tan skin. He glanced at Bilbo, and paused.

"Good morning." Thorin murmured, standing up and walking over to the wooden dresser, pulling it open as he retrieved a shirt. He pulled it on, back turned to Bilbo.

"I ah… I want to explain… why I uh… don't want you to go back to the Shire…" Thorin mumbled, not facing the other still, voice sounding awkward. "I… I just got you back. You're all better now. You can walk around, even if it's with that cane you hate so much. We just got comfortable with each other. We just started everything together, our lives." He turned around. "Just… wait a month or two." He mumbled, fiddling with some ties on his shirt nervously. "Please. Then you can go back to the Shire for a couple months or something."

Bilbo stared at him a bit dumbstruck, opening and closing his mouth in surprise. Had Thorin just tried to make a compromise? He had! A sense of pride for the other welled up in Bilbo, and a smile spread across his lips, before it fell, a frown then rising to his features.

"Thorin, why don't you just come with me for a month?"

Thorin did a double take, his expression surprised. "What?"

"Why don't you just come with me to the Shire for a month before heading back?" He repeated, adding a bit more to the earlier statement. "You could meet my family, see the places where I've lived my whole life in… You could get away from the stress of everything. We could spend time together. Time alone, away from the stresses of Erebor. Then you can go back to Erebor until I come back. If I spend up being in the Shire for a year, you can visit every couple months for a good amount of time so we don't miss to much of each others lives, or at least can get caught up."

Now it was Thorin's turn to be speechless at his parent, eyes a bit wide. "You would actually let me go and live with you in the Shire?" His voice is barely a whisper. Slowly he moved closer to the other, looking down at the seated Halfling. Bilbo nodded wordlessly.

"I… I suppose I could." He murmured. "Fili would have to take over for the month, and I would have to organize some things beforehand and-" He cut himself off, kneeling by the other, rubbing his eyes as he breathed out. "Okay. I will. I'll go with you to your Shire."

Bilbo felt a rush of happiness go through him, and he quickly hugged Thorin, laughing. "Oh you won't regret it Thorin! You'll love it in the Shire!" He told the other, pulling back to gaze into the others eyes, but paused. The two just stared into each others eyes, before Thorin leaned forward, and brushed his lips lightly against Bilbo's, in the barest of kisses. Bilbo felt his face warm slightly, but he kissed back for those small moments, before the two separated, slightly breathless. Bilbo slowly felt a smile spread across his lips, and Thorin coughed a bit, looking away from Bilbo.

He pressed his forehead to Thorin. "I'm glad you changed your mind." He murmured to the other. "It means a lot to me, Thorin, I hope you know that."

---------------------

A couple days later, the two left Erebor for the Shire. Thorin really didn't want to leave his nephew in charge, anxiety twisting in gut. All of the ways Fili could mess up on the months leave was going through his brain. And that was excluding the time it would take to get to the Shire in the first place.

"You're doing it again." Bilbo called to him, pulling his pony up to Thorin's. The Halfling had gotten quite good at riding since they had originally met, though now with his leg it was again more difficult for him. Thorin had made the other promise that if he was in any pain during their journey, that Bilbo would tell him so they could take a quick break of some sort. He didn't want Bilbo overexerting himself at all.

"Doing what again." He grunted, glanced at the other, trying to act oblivious to what the other had seen. Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him.

"Like you don't know. You're worrying about Erebor again. Just relax Thorin. Fili will be fine; he has Bofur and Dori to help him. He won't loose his head with Kili there either." His words were reassuring, but they did nothing to ease Thorin of the burden that weighed heavy on his chest. Bilbo didn't know that though, so he threw the other a forced smile.

He still felt as if he was abandoning Erebor. He kept on telling himself that he'd be back, but of course that didn't help at all either.

Thorin would just have to grit his teeth and get over it for the next month and a bit.

For Bilbo.

They arrived in the Shire two weeks later, much quicker then Thorin had expected. It just showed how well Bilbo had thought out their path to his home. He seemed quite proud of it too, and he bet the other was going over all of the reasons why hobbits should be trusted with planning trips in his head.

The Shire was a lot like he remembered it from his brief stay, full of light and fresh air. He could already see the joy on Bilbo's face at being here, sliding off his pony with some difficulty when they reached Bag End after being greeted by half of the Shire, holding onto the pony's mane tightly as he slid the wooden cane from its little pace on the saddle, then quickly walked over to his house, fumbling in his pocket for the small pocket rune he had to open the door. They were quite popular for hobbits, since most of them didn't have locks on their doors. You just pressed it into the wood before you left, and it locked every hatch in the home. Doors, windows, cupboards… everything. Bag End had one of these rune locks since his great-great-grandfathers time, and a wizard had been going through the Shire selling them for a great price. The magic would have to be eventually renewed, but not for another 200 or 300 years.

He now pressed the rune into the doorframe, and it glowed slightly for a second, before there was a loud noise that popped through the whole hole, echoing for a bit. Bilbo pulled the door open, ushering Thorin inside with his things once he'd tied the ponies up. The whole place had a layer of dust coating everything, but it didn't look bad for being uninhabited for so long.

"Not bad huh? I thought this place would be way worse then this!" Bilbo laughed, limping down the hallway. "A couple open windows and a bit of dusting, and everything will look clean as it can be!" He opened a window or two as he passed them by, pushing them all the way open to let fresh air in, the dust stirring up into mini little storms nearby.

Thorin watched as Bilbo passed the pantry, and paused there, looking into the empty room with a small smile, obviously remembering the day his life had changed. It was still empty as can be too, with any remaining food having a good amount of mold on them. The smell hit both of them as Thorin came to stand by the other, and he covered his mouth instantly.

"Oh Aule's beard, we need to clean this out now." He hissed, coughing loudly as he tried to clear his lungs. God, this smell could be a poison it was so bad. Bilbo could only nod his head, quickly grabbing some of the rotting goods, rushing towards the front door again so he could throw them out. Thorin grabbed some as well, chasing after him like a warg chases a wizard.

It took the two much longer then it should to empty the rank pantry out. They'd gotten a couple old cloths and stuffed them up their noses so they couldn't smell anything to help the process. But they had kept on getting distracted, either with each other, or with their surroundings.

Eventually of course, the whole pantry was emptied out, and they'd pretty much gotten rid of all the dust in Bilbo's home. Thorin had gotten down on his knees for the Halfling and scrubbed the floors clean, making them shine brightly underneath their feet. Bilbo had gone out to the garden while he did that, picking vegetables from it for their dinner that night. Once Thorin had finished, he'd distracted himself by caring for the ponies, ignoring all the looks he got from the other hobbits as they dropped by the house one by one, greeting Bilbo and welcoming him back after being gone so long.

Thorin bet that most of them wanted to get into his good graces for one reason or another. He suspected that Bilbo's family must be a presence in the Shire for this many people to come by to see him.

Dinner had been a quiet affair, and afterwards they had sat by the fire, reading and telling stories to each other, before retiring to Bilbo's master bedroom.

It had all been so…. Domestic.

And Thorin had found himself enjoying it. The troubles of Erebor had traveled to the back of his thoughts, and had stayed there since the arrival in the Shire.

He'd fallen into a deep sleep thinking about home cooked meal and a soft warm bed instead of stupid council members and childish arguments.

---------------------

Their bonding over the month consisted of a lot of domestic actions, such as cooking together, sitting together outside smoking, even gardening! The trust building between the two went off like a fire, making the bond grow even more between dwarf and hobbit. It wouldn't get any stronger it seemed until they actually consummated the bond someday in the future, making Thorin feel slightly smug. He had been capable of this, making a bond as strong as any old kings. And he'd done it with a minimal amount of failure. Of course Bilbo and him had their rocky spots over the 31 days, but every time

They'd kissed more too, longer, lingering kisses that left both parties breathless, emotion rippling through them. Bilbo was brave enough now that he could kiss the king without batting a eyelash.

All of this had made the month fly by for the two in the Shire. Thorin even regretted leaving in the end, his own little love of the Shire being cut into his heart by his stay there. But the mountains called, and he had to answer.

Bilbo was sad to see Thorin go, but he knew the other would be back in the next 2 months for another visit. They'd decided in the end that Bilbo would spend a year away from Erebor in the end, and surprisingly, Thorin was fine with that.

He'd understood in the end why Bilbo wanted to be back here.

The Shire was truly a magical place.

And once that year was up, with all the visits from Thorin, Bilbo returned to Erebor gladly, his homesickness all but gone. It could never really disappear from the Halfling, but it wasn't as strong as before. Their new agreement after this one-year was now every 3 months Bilbo would spend 1 month with Thorin in the Shire, then return to Erebor with him. No one at Erebor complained about the arrangement, all of them happy to see Thorin so explicitly in love with the hobbit.

Even though he still had yet to tell the other how he felt. But that could wait.

Because they have forever to do that.

End

Chapter 4: Brothers and Memories
Summary:

In which Bilbo finds out incest among dwarves is okay, and thinks about when Thorin met his family.

End Notes:

Yes, some divergence from the Tolkien verse here with Thorin being a reincarnation of Durin! Helps me plan out a tiny little drabble chapter I've had in the works for a while.

Primula and Drogo are actually the names of Frodo's parents, BTW. Check the family tree of Bilbo Baggins on Wikipedia and you'll see! (That awkward moment when you realize Khal Drogo is Frodo's father)

Trudy is actually the name of my moms Tahoe truck. Now it's the name of Bilbo's pony.

I have about 2 more ideas for chapters, so give me some ideas people! This'll probably become only 7 official chapters in all.

I have gotten a beta (though this chapter is yet to BE beta'd, but thank you to everyone who put their app's forward.

Brothers and Memories
--

Bilbo was sitting by his fire in the Shire, a pipe in his lips as he smoked lazily. It was nearing the end of his year away from Erebor. It had been relaxing to be on his own for a bit, with the occasional visits from some of the company. Thorin would send word with them with each visit that he was graced with, and in the last letter, he’d been praising how well Fili was governing when he was away. Apparently, after the first month, Fili had shown to be a natural leader. All of his worrying about the blond messing up had been unwarranted, and Bilbo had sent him a letter back then, pretty much saying I told you so.

Fili and Kili rested on the hobbit’s mind, thoughts straying to when he had first learned about the two being Soul Mates.

-----------------

Bilbo didn’t know what to think about the two brothers closeness, gazing at them from where he was mounted on his pony. So far from what he could see, the two were unusually close, even for brothers. They shared these long looks from the tops of their ponies, brushing against each other constantly.

They almost acted like they were Soul Mates. But that was absolutely impossible. Brothers couldn’t be Soul Mates! It was just ridiculous to even think that. He lifted his hand from the pony’s mane and rubbed at his face, letting out a sigh.

The two were probably just really close. Bilbo never had any form of sibling, and Fili and Kili were a different race. He didn’t know how relationships with brothers worked with them. Though in the back of his head, he reminded himself that they weren’t the only pair of brothers among the dwarves. Ori, Nori, and Dori were all siblings, and so were Gloin and Oin. He buried that in his thoughts however, perturbed slightly as he tried to push the reminder away, all the way into a deep dark corner of his mind.

He didn’t think about the matter for days after that, busying his mind with other thoughts, desperately distracting himself. It had been working most of the trip, as he would do all these different things that took up any realm of thought. They were odd, but they worked.

Though of course, eventually it was going to come up. His odd behavior had been noticed by some of the company, namely Bofur, and they had decided to ask their hobbit just what exactly was wrong with him.

So a couple nights later, Bofur plopped down by the Halfling, who was seated by the fire. It had been Bilbo’s turn to keep watch, and Bofur had stayed completely awake until then. He felt as if just maybe, the hobbit wouldn’t want the rest of them knowing what was bothering him.

Bilbo jumped slightly at the dwarfs sudden arrival, swinging his head around quickly to look at him, but he relaxed at seeing it was just Bofur, a loud whoosh of air escaping his lungs, shoulders slumping once more. A small flash of pride went through Bofur at seeing the other so on guard, prepared to fight anything that crept up on him. The hobbit had learned a lot since his addition to the company. Things that Bofur hoped would stick with the other throughout his life.

“So, what’s up with you?” Bofur asked nonchalantly, examining a grimy fingernail like he’d seen some human woman do when they were trying to act subtle. “You’ve been acting pretty strange lately, Master Bilbo.” Bilbo gave him a fake smile, eyes tired.

“Ah, I don’t know what you’re talking about… I’m always like this.” The lie is obvious, and Bofur can see that Bilbo knows it is.

“Stop with the lying, ladde. It’s so obvious it hurts.” Bofur clapped him on the back, letting out a quiet laugh, reminding himself that everyone else is fast asleep. He didn’t want to wake someone like Thorin or his brother Bombur. Both of them were quite light sleepers when on the road, and raged constantly when awaken from their slumber. Sometimes it could be quite funny, but at the moment Bofur was trying to have a serious conversation with the Halfling.

Bilbo groaned, and buried his face in his hands, breathing out heavily. “Its just… something’s been bothering me, alright?” He mumbled, voice muffled slightly by his hands. Bofur scooted a bit closer, wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders, rubbing one of them comfortingly.

“What’s been bothering you? C’mon, tell me…”

“It’s stupid but… Fili and Kili…” Bilbo looked up from his hands, meeting Bofur’s eyes. “Are they Soul Mates?”

Bofur blinked, surprised. That was what was bothering his friend? That Fili and Kili were Soul Mates? “Oh yeah, they are. Ever since their wee little marks appeared.”

The hobbits expression fell even more, a look of horror crossing his features. “But… but their brothers! They’re related! That’s incest!”

The dwarf sighed, shrugging. “It’s different for dwarves. It’s a bit difficult to explain.”

“Please do!” Bilbo stared at him with those big eyes, and Bofur was toast, shoulders slumping. The topic of brothers being Soul Mates was one most dwarves didn’t like to explain to anyone that was an outsider. Bilbo however was part of the company, and he should know this. It was sort of important if you wanted to understand the line of Durin, as well as how dwarves mated.

“Well… in the beginning, our creator, Aule, made us in secret. Carved out of stone, the original 7 dwarves. Eru, the creator of the elves and his Soul Mate found out. He was determined for elves to come first, and Aule told him he would destroy his creations, but Eru stayed his hand. As long as we didn’t wake before his elves, he didn’t care. To waste such a creation was a horrible crime to him.” Bofur began, looking back at the cracking fire, Bilbo’s eyes locked to his form. “But he didn’t completely forgive Aule. Eru laid a curse upon our people. We could never find our Soul Mate unless we saw the mark pulsing on their chest with our own eyes.”

Bilbo nodded, knowing most of this, though he didn’t know that Eru and Aule had been Soul Mates. He supposed that something like that would have been kept to elves and dwarves histories though, something that they didn’t share with just any outsider, which touched the Halfling. Bofur saw him as someone to be trusted with the knowledge of their past, and felt as if Bilbo wouldn’t go around telling everyone what he’d found out. Thorin had never showed that level of trust, and that sent pangs of hurt through the hobbit as he thought about his Soul Mate.

“But that wasn’t the only thing he did. He made it that with our race, brothers could be Soul Mates. It’s not exactly common, but theirs enough brother pairs out there. Fili and Kili are one of these. But with these pairs comes a risk.” Bofur looked up from the fire to look at Bilbo, who was hanging off every word with wide eyes. “The risk of instant death, if you’re separated for any length of time. It’s usually just about a half a miles distance, but with some cases it can be a lot less. Fili and Kili don’t know their distance limit so… they have to stay as close as possible to each other until they find out.”

“So if Fili and Kili get separated, like on the mountain…”

“They’ll fall where they stand and never get up. And with the line of Durin having a brother pair for their heirs… it makes everything much tenser. For if Thorin doesn’t have a female Soul Mate, the line of Durin will die with him. He’s the last reincarnation of Durin the Deathless, which means the dwarves time on Middle Earth is coming to an end.” Bofur’s words are cold and emotionless, but Bilbo can see the fear in his eyes.

“Thorin’s the last reincarnation? I thought all of Durin’s reincarnations were named after him…”

“Thorin’s father hid the truth from him, till he was an adult.” Bofur explained, eyes traveling up to the sky. “He didn’t want to burden his son with the knowledge that he was the end of the line. And that if he didn’t find his Soul Mate and bond with them, his soul would wander the world till the end of time, alone. Eru cursed Durin the Deathless with his reincarnations as a punishment, not a gift. Thorin’s whole existence is at risk if he doesn’t find the one.” He rubbed at his face. “But he’s made no effort to find them. This whole thing to get our mountain back is great, but it’s consumed him, body and soul. He doesn’t even seem to care about the fact that he’ll be alone forever at this rate.” He let out a sigh, shaking his head.

Bilbo just sort of stared at him, opening and closing his mouth. Thorin was the last reincarnation and he had to find his Soul Mate or he’d be alone in the afterlife forever.

Oh god did he feel the pressure.

At least now he knew that him being Thorin’s Soul Mate was actually something that was fated to happen, to end the direct line of Durin. Fili and Kili being Soul Mates didn’t freak him out as much either- though he still found it vaguely disturbing that they were brothers. But when gods got into the mix with their creations, it did bring a lot of problems.

“You alright Bilbo? You’re looking a bit pale…”

Bilbo nodded quickly, giving the other the best smile he could put on. “Y-Yeah I’m fine. Just a lot to take in, that’s all. I hope Thorin finds his Soul Mate soon. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

“You found your Soul Mate yet?” Bofur asked him, curious. He hadn’t seen any lady hobbits hanging around Bilbo’s home, nor any male hobbits. Bilbo’s Soul Mate could have been out, but he doubted that.

“Ah, no.” The Halfling murmured, looking away. “It’s why I’m a bit reclusive of some. Most hobbits by my age have found their Soul Mates, but I still haven’t.”

Bofur gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about that. I haven’t found my Soul Mate either. Though I have a suspicion of who it is. There’s this lady dwarf back in the Blue Mountains that just has to be the most beautiful thing ever, the most amazing auburn beard sculpting her face…” The dwarf let out a dreamy sigh, a dazed look in his dark eyes. “I get the chills whenever I see her. When we get the mountain back, I’m gunna ask her to show me her mark. I just know it’s her.”

“I hope she is, Bofur, I hope she is…”

------------------

Bilbo shook his head at the memory, sighing. He and Thorin had worked out in the end of course, so Thorin wouldn’t be alone when he died. Bilbo had lifted the curse that laid on him since his birth, and the Halfling couldn’t be happier with that. Even though with them becoming Soul Mates, he’d been permanently crippled in the leg and had nearly died in the middle of a forest. Not pleasant at all.

The hobbit stood, wandering over to the window, grabbing shelves and furniture to support his leg as he gazed outside. Tomorrow morning his pony would be hitched up, and he would go back to Erebor. Excitement ran through his veins, and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. Seeing Thorin again would be wonderful, along with seeing the others of their company.

-The next morning-

Bilbo was on the road as soon as the sun hit the sky, heading back to his second home with a smile pulling at his lips as the animal rocked underneath him. He waved goodbye to a couple of his relatives as he passed them, calling to them that he’d see them sometime later that year. They all waved back, nodding with wide smiles as they watched Bilbo leave. Most of the rumors about him had died out since he’d found his Soul Mate, and most of the Shire had met Thorin.

Surprisingly enough, they all took to the dwarf very well.

-------------------

“Are you sure me meeting all your relatives is a good idea?” Thorin asked him, pulling at his hair slightly as he sat nervously in Bilbo’s foyer. The hobbit smiled at the king widely, patting his Soul Mate on the back in an effort to comfort him. Some of Bilbo’s friends and relatives were coming to night to see Bilbo’s Soul Mate. Most of them were convinced that he didn’t even exist, thinking that poor Bilbo must of gotten tired of all of the rumors centered around him.

Were they going to get the shock of their lives or what? Because Thorin was real, not some silly figment of Bilbo’s imagination. He was looking forward to rubbing it in all of their faces when they arrived. Especially the Sackville-Baggins, the most vile, horrible, annoying hobbits in the entire Shire. Or at least to Bilbo. They were always bugging him about who he was going to mark down as his heir to the Baggins line, since they both believed he never would have children. Which was true, since it was a bit difficult to have kids when you were two very male people, of two very different races.

Unless Gandalf zapped him with some weird male pregnancy spell or he ate a bad mushroom, Bilbo wasn’t going to get pregnant. He and Thorin hadn’t even had sex yet, though he could feel the tension in the air whenever someone even mentioned anything related to sex. He sort of hoped that just maybe that something sexual would happen before Thorin left, something more than the long kisses they’d shared before going to bed, or waking in the morning to one of them watching the other sleep.

A knock on the door called his attention over, and he gave Thorin a big grin as he jogged over to the round doorway, gripping the handle and pulling it open, smiling widely at the guests who stood there. They all had promptly arrived at once, standing all clumped together in front of the green door. The Sackville-Baggins were at the head of the group, Otho and Lobelia standing proudly, heads held high as they looked at Bilbo.

“Hello cousins and other relatives!” Bilbo greeted, bowing to them as he remembered his manners, moving to the side as the gaggle of people entered the hobbit hole. “It’s good to see you all!” A complete lie of course. His favorite cousin Drogo and his Soul Mate Primula paused by him, smiling at him widely.

“Bilbo! It’s wonderful to see you again! I haven’t had a chance to see you since you came back!” Primula laughed, hugging him swiftly to her chest. Bilbo hugged her back a bit awkwardly, grinning as he pulled away, leaning on his cane heavily. No one seemed to mind the cane or was surprised by it, since Bilbo had gone out to deliver each invitation personally. They had inquired to how he had gotten the crutch, and he had told them the truth, saying his Soul Mate had rejected him by accident and was too late to get to him in time to stop the permanent damage to his leg. He had assured all of them however, that his Soul Mate deeply regretted their actions, and not to be angry with them. He’d avoided defining a gender to them yet, not sure how they would take the whole my-Soul-Mate-is-a-guy-and-a-dwarf-thing.

“It’s wonderful to see you too Primula, you too Drogo!” He clapped Drogo on the back, and the dark haired hobbit smiled at Bilbo, nodding as he snaked an arm around his wife’s waist. The last hobbit entered Bag End, and closed the door behind him, and about 14 hobbits were stuck in the front hall, mulling about.

He spotted his aunt Belba and her husband Rudigar talking to his other cousin Falco, while Falco’s father Bingo looked around Bad End like it was in disrepair. He had a habit of doing that, the old hobbit always looking for something that was out of place. His wife was giving him a scolding look, obviously annoyed that her Soul Mate was being so disrespectful towards Bilbo.

“So, Bilbo, where is this Soul Mate you say you have?” Lobelia said, pushing her way back to Bilbo, a sneer on her lips. Bilbo smiled eerily at her, quickly separating himself through the crowd and towards the place he had left Thorin.

“He’s right down here! Let me just go and fetch him, dear Lobelia.” Whispers erupted in the crowd at the word him, watching him closely, all on the edge of their proverbial seats.

Bilbo reached the room where he had left Thorin, and extended a hand to the nervous dwarf, smiling at him. “Come on, time for your opening act.” Thorin swallowed, and nodded, standing up as he brushed invisible dust from his lap, taking the hobbits hand in his. He could easily admit that this was the most difficult thing he had ever done. He knew that some of Bilbo’s family disliked his Soul Mate, and although he didn’t care about them, the fact was that Bilbo had more family that liked him. He didn’t want to make any bad first impressions on them.

It felt like ages until they reached the front hall again, Bilbo looking triumphant as he moved Thorin in front of him, on display for the group.

“This is Thorin Oakenshield!” The dwarf quickly nodded towards the crowd, dipping his head in a sign of respect. All of the crowd’s eyes were wide, staring at him with open mouths and shock obvious on their faces. Whoever they had been expecting, it wasn’t a dwarf man, who was much bigger then most of the stony species they had encountered before in the Shire. Thorin certainly had some inches on Bilbo. Him being a dwarf did explain how Bilbo had accidently gotten rejected though.

Primula was the first to come out of her shock, and a wide smile spread back across her lips as she moved forward, taking Thorin’s hand and shaking in vigorously, her husband right behind her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet my cousin-in-laws Soul Mate at last! You very different from what I thought!” She exclaimed, laughing slightly as she pulled her hand away so Drogo could shake it next, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Good to meet my cousins Soul Mate. The bugger had me worried that he wouldn’t have one.” Drogo told him, truth in his eyes as he pulled away, his sister Dora coming up next to shake his hand. Instead she hugged him full on, ignoring the dazed looked of disbelief on Thorin’s face. He hadn’t expected them to like him or even tolerate him! Though over his shoulder, he saw two hobbits glaring at him, and he had a feeling that it was Otho and Lobelia. Which meant, with what Bilbo had said about the two, he shouldn’t care about how they looked at him or what they thought of him, since they pretty much had the personality of an orc and an elf mixed together.

Not a very nice combination, in Thorin’s opinion.

The rest of Bilbo’s family plus friends stormed him, laughing and smiling as they took turns shaking his hands and hugging him, all quite happy to meet the dwarf. None were bothered by the fact he was a hobbit, or a male one. They all just were happy that Bilbo had someone to spend the rest of his life with.

They all settled in Bilbo’s small dining room, squishing together as Thorin and Primula helped Bilbo set out the food and serve everyone. Drink was given to anyone that wanted it, though Primula refused to let her husband drink it. The hobbit had a bit of a drinking problem, and was trying to kick it since in the next 30 years, Primula wanted to have kids. Hobbits took a much longer time to overcome addiction then most species, taking years to get over withdrawal. He’d only just begun his fast, refusing any beer or ale with ease. Primula told him it’d get a lot harder once time went by, and Thorin felt a bit of pity for Bilbo’s cousin.

The Sackville-Baggins spent the whole night sulking, obviously upset that they couldn’t pester Bilbo about not having a Soul Mate. Though near the end, they seemed to realize something. That if Bilbo was mated to another male, he couldn’t have children. Then the sucking up had begun, and Bilbo had rolled his eyes at them, making Thorin snort slightly, covering it with a hand when Lobelia looked at him with a small scowl. That of course had just made little giggles escape from the female hobbits assembled, chuckles from the males, and the Sackville-Baggins looked very confused as full on laugher erupted seconds later.

It was a night any of the participants would forget quickly, laughter echoing through the halls of Bag End like music, filling the ears of all of them, whether they wanted it to or not. It was a night that Bilbo and Thorin enjoyed thoroughly, and it was marked down in both of their minds as one to cherish for years to come.

Bilbo would never forget the look on Otho’s or Lobelia’s faces when he full on kissed Thorin in front of them, near the end of their night. Both of them looked like they’d swallowed something very dry and nasty, and Bilbo wished he had a sketchpad so he could capture the moment. Oh if Ori were here, it would even look like the two! Bilbo’s artistic talent was limited to smiley faces and small stick like figures, but he was sure that if he had really tried he could have gotten the expression right.

Thorin had assured him later when Bilbo told him that he could, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and brining him close as they watched the last of their guests, Primula and Drogo, leave out their door, waving goodbye. They’d turned around to go back to the kitchen, and Bilbo then of course remembered the great many dishes they had to clean, pressing a hand to his face and groaning. Dishes were the thing Bilbo hated the most, but Thorin promise that he’d help. It had been quicker then if Bilbo had done it alone, but no near the speed of the company’s cleaning when they had first come to Bag End.

Both participants had practically fallen down once they were over, and had to drag themselves to Bilbo’s room, Bilbo forsaking his cane to lean on the dwarf the whole way there. Then they’d stripped their shirts off and fallen into the comforting bed, holding each other close as they slipped away from the plain on the conscious.

-----------------

Bilbo slipped out of the memory once he realized where he was, just a mile away from Bree. Had it really been that long since he’d set out? He shook his head slightly, blinking his eyes rapidly as he took in his surroundings, such as the nearby river and tree line. He hadn’t been this way to get to Bree for a while, since when he had left the Shire with the company so long ago, they had taken a path through the woods. They’d only came across the river once, and that had been to cross it.

All of their paths to Erebor seemed to avoid rivers, which made Bilbo make a note in his head to ask Thorin why that was when he got back to the mountain in the next week or so. Or maybe even an elf, since he was planning on stopping at Rivendell for a night or two. The elven stronghold was one of his favorite places besides the Shire and the Lonely Mountain, and he wished that they’d stayed longer at it in the beginning of their journey. He knew of course that was impossible with how things had been back then, but still. He had wanted to appreciate all the beauty. Maybe get Ori to sketch some of it, if he hadn’t already. Another note was added to ask Ori if he had once he got home, and to inquire about his and Bofur’s soul mates.

He reached Bree in about 30 more minutes, pushing the pony to get there before the cloudy sky above drenched them in water, pulling his hood up just in case. The gates of Bree were still open when he got there thankfully, and he got his hobbit-sized room at the Prancing Pony for no problem at all, handing Trudy over to the stable hand to be hitched up for the night.

He went to bed, exhausted from the short days riding, almost instantly falling asleep once his head hit the pillow. His dreams were filled with adventure and joy, Thorin showing up in ever single one of them, there at Bilbo’s side as he swam in oceans, climbed mountains, and even walked back into Erebor, a hand linked with his.

End

Chapter 5: The Nephew
End Notes:

This is about 2 months late ;-; I've been very busy with life, so I apologize! I'll be going back and editing previous chapters as well.

Please send ideas for more chapters- as if I don't, the next chapter shall be the last. Don't expect the next chapter any time soon, either…

The Future Before Us

Frodo sat by the pond, his feet dangling over the side as he gazed into the clear water, brushing fingers over the mark on his chest absently. He'd been sitting there for hours, awaiting the arrival of his new guardian. Three months his mother had finally died, only 2 months after the death of his father Drogo Baggins. Primula had tried to hold off for her son, but even the spunky woman couldn't resist the call of joining her Soul Mate in the afterlife. She'd gone to sleep one morning and just hadn't woken up.

So then the young orphan's search to find someone to take him in had begun, and so far no one had been willing to bring him in. Finally another family friend had sent a letter off to Frodo's elusive cousin Bilbo Baggins, who hadn't been back in the Shire since Frodo was barely a child, staying across the mountains to a land far to the east. He hadn't heard from him since the elder hobbit had a falling out with the Sackville-Baggins years ago, and his parents had always sounded upset when they talked about it to their son. The black haired youth had been told many times that it had been a spectacular fight, with much screaming and yelling from both parties. Bilbo had yelled in the end of all of it that he wouldn't ever come back if this was how he'd be treated, and that they'd never get a sliver of his gold. He'd locked his house up with a new rune he'd received, and left as soon as he could on the back of his pony, trotting away from all of their lives for what they thought was forever.

Bag End was still locked up tight and impenetrable to this day, and he'd seen Lobelia eyeing it every so often, like she was thinking up ways to break into it and get into the fortune that was amassed inside of it, her greed evident on her face. She'd never get in though- everyone knew how good rune locks were. No one would get into Bag End without Bilbo's permission or if they were named his heir when he died. That person was most definitely not going to be Lobelia or Otho Sackville-Baggins.

Most of the family had actually agreed that it would be Primula and Drogo who would be named Bilbo's inheritors, but now that they were dead, all were unsure about that. No one except a few really knew of his new guardians location, and they refused to send Bilbo any letters about the line of succession. He was happy where he was, and they didn't need to start bothering him over something as trivial as that once more. Though apparently sending him a letter about some cousin and nephew combo was more important then the inheritance of their name, it seemed.

Frodo was… increasingly unsure about it all really. He didn't want to leave the Shire for one- he'd gotten a glimpse of his Soul Mate barely a week ago when he was at the market, and even though he hadn't let the other see him, he still wanted to meet the other youth. That chance was going to be gone if he went with Bilbo, at least for several years. Frodo didn't really want to subject his Soul Mate to the same thing he'd heard happened to Bilbo. His Soul Mate… well they were a nice person. Or at least he'd seen from stalking him in the markets for the whole afternoon he'd spotted him along with a couple others that weekend.

Running a hand through his hair, Frodo sighed, shaking his head, as he stood, moving away from the pool of water in front of him. He needed to get his things out for his guardian's arrival. The young hobbit severely doubted that Bilbo would want to wait for him to get his things once he got here.

He climbed up the small slope quickly, jogging to his mothers home, already emptied by the inheritors of the will. Surprisingly enough, Frodo hadn't gotten ownership of the home, or much of the goods inside of it. Only the truly personal objects his mother and father had owned had went to him, and there wasn't even enough of them to fill a grain sack. At first it had bothered him immensely, and his anger towards his parents had been present for a while until he realized that they'd guessed who'd become his guardian.

He wished they had told him that. They'd known Bilbo would take him in, taking him away from the Shire, and they hadn't bothered to warn their son of that. He would have been able to prepare more for this move across the country, be better prepared for leaving all his friends behind. Or at least the couple he had at the moment. Many of them had grown up and moved on from his companionship, and sometimes he and the individual would talk but… it was always strained and awkward.

He pressed a hand to his eyes, groaning as he shook his head. He needed to stop thinking like this. At least where ever he was going, he'd have a chance to make new friends, and he could build relationships that weren't based on who his family was. Though if Bilbo were well known, that would probably happen again with Frodo, and a sense of dread washed over the young hobbit at the thought. He would try harder though to make himself different compared to Bilbo if that was the case, to make himself seem more original. Frodo would push himself to escape the ever present loom of his family name, or he'd just make it that no one noticed him.

Hobbits were always good at disappearing, whether it be from an enemy, society, or even themselves, they did it with a ease that seemed to make some races jealous once they realized the advantage hobbits had over most enemies. They were always put at ease though when they found out hobbits were interested more in agriculture then fighting, and their fears and anger were buried for a time.

Frodo had often heard his parents when he was younger discussing how long hobbits would be able to stay out of world affairs before they were yanked back in them by outside forced. They'd talk about the conflicts with men and orcs deep into the night, ad eventually Frodo would creep back to his room, his thoughts filled with the images of war. He'd gained a good perspective on the world with all that eavesdropping and listening he'd done.

What that perspective was… well that was something no one had to know. No one who mattered of course.

Frodo pushed the door to his mother's home open, slipping inside. The pictures of his parents that once hung on the wall, and family heirlooms left to him, were stuffed in the very bottom of his bag his clothes placed on top of it to hide them from view. Even if thieves wouldn't see them as any value, he didn't want to risk it with these precious items. Those portraits were the only things he had left to remember his parent's faces by, and losing them would only add to the heartbreak he was feeling. Forgetting what they looked like would make him feel incredibly terrible, and probably the worst thing he could ever do to himself and their memory.

He scooped his bags up once he reached the main living room, slinging his rucksack over his back, and picking up the large suitcase his parents had made for traveling, now being used for their sons move from the Shire and across middle earth. It was heavy and a bit difficult to carry, but he'd manage somehow. He wasn't about to leave it behind.

Taking one last lingering look around the room, he whispered a goodbye to the home he'd lived in since he was a child, before leaving the living room and the house all together, entering the garden path. Another glance was sent back at the outside of the house, the hobbit hole already looking sad and lonely, and nothing like it had when his parents had been alive. No, the hole in the ground wasn't a home anymore. Not without them there, to laugh and play with him, to be there when he needed them. Without them, it was just some hole that he'd been living in since a child, and that realization struck a note in his chest, making it ache even more. It was like the weight that had already been resting atop his heart had tripled, and once more he hoped, that going with Bilbo Baggins would give him a new chance to be someone. Even if he was leaving his Soul Mate behind here in the Shire, how good of a partner would he be if he was this depressed while he stayed here? No good at all.

With that reassurance in mind, he quickly fled down the road at a swift pace, paying no heed to the other hobbits he passed, even when they said goodbye, or muttered some condolences about his parents once more. Frodo didn't even try to respond to them, and he kept his head down with every step he took. It took around 30 minutes in all really to get to where the letter had told him to wait, and once he arrived at the small outcrop by the bubbling river, he just stood there, drumming his fingers on his leg nervously.

Waiting seemed to take hours instead of the few minutes that passed, when Frodo finally heard the clip clop of a pony's hooves coming towards him, and his head shot up, as he stared at the break in the trees just across from where he was standing, Trepidation ran through him, almost lifting the weight from his heart with the force of it.

Finally the head of the pony appeared, the rest of its body behind it of course. It was dragging along a cart, and the soft humming of a deep voice could be heard coming from its depths. A lighter, less deep, laugh came from another individual, obviously amused by something their companion was doing. Frodo swallowed thickly, a lump in his throat, as the cart and pony crossed the small stone bridge over the tiny stream, and turned right, in the direction he was standing.

Closer, and closer it got, until it came to a complete stop in front of Frodo, and he squinted at the tall figure who stood in the front seat, who was obviously not his uncle. For one, he had a very long gray beard, and was wearing a pointed wizards hat that drooped slightly compared to what Frodo imagined they would look like, and wore long gray robes that hung off his old body like rags.

"You must be Frodo Baggins." This was the source of the deep voice, and as Frodo listened to it, he felt a small rush of nostalgia rush over him. He'd met this man before, thought of course not recently. "You've grown a lot since you were a babe. Wouldn't you agree, Bilbo?"

This sparked a light in the young hobbits eyes, as they locked onto the next figure to stand up in the cart, much shorter then the elderly man next to him. The newcomer was quite obviously a hobbit. His hair was a reddish brown, much like the color his father's hair had been, and his twinkling green eyes held a depth in them as he looked down at Frodo. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough so you could see the peaking of a Soul Mark on his chest, the splash of red quite obvious to the younger hobbit.

"Looks like it!" He jumped down from the cart; a cane gripped in one hand, and walked over to Frodo, holding a hand out to him. Most of his weight seemed to be supported on the cane it seemed, and he wondered vaguely what had happened to cause the limp. "A pleasure to see you again, Frodo. I'm Bilbo Baggins, your new guardian." A friendly smile crossed over his face, and the younger looked down at his hand, before back at Bilbo, taking his and shaking it lightly.

"A, um, pleasure." He said, voice slightly soft, and Bilbo's expression softened slightly as he listened to Frodo speak.

"This is Gandalf the Gray, my wizard friend." He indicated the tall man, who gave a nod of greeting. "My company for the journey here to get you."

A wizard? That would explain why he was dressed so. Now that he thought about it, he did remember his mother and father speaking about a gray wizard sometimes, mentioning him fondly whenever they spoke of Bilbo, or Old Took. Something about how good his fireworks were usually.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both." He looked away from them now, clearing his throat slightly. There was an awkwardness in the air that seemed to just linger with every word that was said, and by the looks on the other two's faces, they realized it as well. Frodo really hoped that the whole trip wouldn't have this hanging around them, because if it did, he couldn't promise not to go mad from it.

"Well, ah, before we head off, Frodo, you mind bringing me to your parents graves?" The smile had faded from Bilbo's lips now, and a look of seriousness had come into his features. He paused for a moment, though he shouldn't have been surprised by Bilbo's request. His father and mother had been quite close to Bilbo, he'd heard, and of course he would want to visit where they had been buried so he could pay his respects to them.

"Of… Of course." Frodo mumbled, and set his bag down on the ground, turning towards downstream. They'd buried his parents away from the rest of the graves, giving them their own little spot in a clearing a couple feet away from the river, just far enough so their bodies wouldn't contaminate the water. It had been under Frodo's insistence, since the gravesite for the rest of their kind was in a dark part of the forest, surrounded by a old iron gate crafted years before Old Took had been born. He couldn't stand the thought of them lying in the ground in a place so dark, and even though he'd met a tiny bit of resistance when he'd first insisted that they be buried near somewhere they loved. His mother had first insisted it with his father when he had died, but even after 2 months, they hadn't given any leeway to the request. Once she died however, it seemed the rest of their kind seemed to pity Frodo, and only a few arguments rose up because of his wants. Those mostly came from the Sackville-Baggins, who of course, never had even liked Frodo's parents.

"Follow me, please…" He quickly began walking, and he heard Bilbo tell Gandalf to stay with the horse and get Frodo's bag into the back, before following after him with a quick step for someone who had a cane, catching up to his new ward. The path was slightly overgrown with weeds and grass, and a couple flowers were sprouting between rocks here and there. He stepped around them when they got in his way, and quickly they reached the clearing where his parents had been put to rest in a matter of minutes. Two small markers, only rocks with their names inscribed on them, lay in the way. The mounds only now had grass growing over the soil that had been set upon their bodies, marking that they hadn't been buried long.

Bilbo knelt by the graves, and sighed, an incredible look of sadness crossing his face.

"Primula… Drogo…" He murmured, touching the gravestones with a gentle hand, tracing the letters of their names with a finger. "I'm sorry you're gone, I truly am." He pressed his forehead to the dirt, murmuring something under his breath, probably wishing them a safe journey in death. "You were always good to me. You were to ones who stood up for me when I wasn't here. Losing you…" His voice cracked slightly, and Frodo looked away. They may be his parents- but witnessing Bilbo's sadness seemed invasive. He didn't listen to what else he said, but he had a feeling that all of it was a list of things that his parents had done, and at the very end, there was a muted whisper of 'I'm sorry' to the graves again, as Bilbo stood, standing next to Frodo once more.

"Lets go." Bilbo murmured to him, clearing his throat lightly as he began walking, pressing a hand to his eyes as he left Frodo in the clearing, expecting him to follow. Frodo took one last glance at the graves, whispered a goodbye, and followed his pseudo uncle quickly, not sure what to say or what to do.

----------

Bilbo arrived back at the cart quickly, barely holding back the emotions that were surging in his throat, threatening to choke him. Seeing their graves had just made their deaths suddenly very real for him. He'd heard about their deaths by way of letter, when he was sent an inquiry about maybe taking Frodo on as his ward until he was old enough to live on his own. At first- he hadn't really believed it, and he'd just sat on the letter for days, not really knowing what he should do about it. It had been Thorin who'd pushed him into making a decision- the king very promptly told him that if he wanted to respect Primula and Drogo's memory, that he had to take Frodo in.

He still wasn't sure if it was the right decision. Leaving the Shire completely, like he had done after that argument over his succession, wasn't easy for any hobbit. Bilbo had nightmares for months after he had, and the longing to go back hadn't disappeared for years. Now that he was back, that slow ache was returning, and he realized quickly that he'd have hell to get out of that pit of want once more. Thorin would help him through it of course, when he returned, but until then, he'd have to get through it by himself. Along with the added pressure of his cousins death, and you had a recipe for disaster.

The hobbit had to admire Frodo though, with how he was keeping up. He seemed to be keeping strong, even though he was very quiet for a hobbit his age. Most of them couldn't shut up when they hit his teens, like he had. At least Frodo would get along better with Thorin, who for someone who had two very energetic nephews and helped raised them, disliked children and young folk who were so hyper they couldn't do anything. Worry flashed through his mind with that, as he stroked the horse's mane, hearing Gandalf faintly talking in the background how they should let him loose for a moment, since now that there were three of them, the weight will have increased much more. He could only nod, thoughts absorbed with thinking about Frodo.

How badly had his parent's death affected him? How depressed, how lonely, was he? Bilbo couldn't even begin to know. He hadn't seen Frodo since he was a toddler, and only then it had been for a couple weeks with Gandalf, before he'd left and never came back. He'd barely even known him as a child, and actually had no idea how to deal with. He still had no idea how to deal with him. Should he treat him like he was a child? Or as an adult? Should he warn him about where they were going? Who his guardians Soul Mate really was? Would he have to give Frodo advice like he was his parent? The questions kept on running through his head as they attached the horse back to the cart, before all climbing into the back, making themselves comfortable among the straw.

Frodo had situated himself in the very back, and as the cart began to move, Bilbo watched alongside him as the Shire began to get smaller, the small smoke rising from their tiny chimneys shrinking, and the hobbits waving to them seemingly becoming ants as they finally entered the tree cover Bilbo and Gandalf had come out of only a hour or two before. Frodo became much more quiet then, not a single word escaping him, not a single sound even leaving his lips, as he hunkered back down, hugging himself tightly.

Bilbo looked back at Gandalf, who was looking over his shoulder in the driver's seat, reins gripped in hand as he directed the horse down the lightly graveled road, trees on all sides of the cart. He was giving Bilbo that look of his, the one that said that he should be doing something important, such as, maybe comforting the young hobbit that was now in his care and was leaving his home for a unknown amount of years. Bilbo made a face, shaking his head, indicating he had no idea how to deal with the situation at hand. The old wizard jerked his head at Frodo, raising his eyebrows at his friend, obviously saying that he should at least try to comfort his new ward.

"Well ah, you'll like where we're going to be living." He said, voice awkward as it filled the empty space. "Very beautiful, great scenery… rivals the Shire honestly, I swear." Frodo didn't say a word to that, as he just pulled his knees even closer to his chest, resting his head on them as he looked out a small gap in the panels of the cart, just big enough to watch the trees pass by through it. Bilbo sighed, and looked back at Gandalf, shrugging his shoulders to say that he'd tried. Gandalf scowled, and jerked his head at Frodo again.

He wanted him to try again? A glare appeared on his face, and he mouthed at the other that the kid wasn't going to talk to him. Gandalf just mouthed back that if he didn't try, he was a horrible guardian, and that trolls could do it better then he could. A look of anger now crossed his features, along with a surge of determination in his chest, as he looked back at Frodo.

"Uh, there are ah, really nice people too. Just absolutely wonderful, can be quite a riot." He sounded even more awkward now, if that was even possible, an off quality in his voice readily audible in the cart, as they bumped along, bodies jerking with the movement. "Good food too. Just delicious. Make the best meat pies in the whole middle earth, I promise." Only a grunt came from Frodo, the attempt at comfort and conversation shot down as fast as it had gone out, leaving Bilbo looking slightly dejected now, sighing as he shifted in the straw.

This was going to be a very long trip.

---------

As Bilbo had suspected, the trip was filled with awkward silences and drama of the silent kind. Frodo had barely spoken the whole way, only to ask for food or a blanket, maybe the occasional question about where they were going. He seemed to have taken some pact of silence for the time it took to get to Erebor, which was a considerable amount. When they had passed through Rivendell, and spent a day or two there resting, he'd talked more then he did any where else on the journey, before moving onto the mountain path, the silence returning quickly. Instead of taking the one Thorin and the company had took to slip away from the elves of Rivendell in secret, they took the one that allowed caravans to pass through easily, and was heavily protected by guards sent by the elves, before that protection was taken over by the race of men.

It actually worried Bilbo quite a lot, now that he thought about Frodo's silence, as they moved through middle earth, and as prompted by Gandalf on the day on their first meeting, attempted to make conversation with the younger hobbit several times. Nothing worked, and the frustration was endless for him. He even found himself worrying for Frodo, more then he ever thought he would do for the other.

It couldn't just be the death of his parents causing this- something else must have happened to make him so down, so quiet, so… mute. Maybe Thorin would have an answer to why his ward was so down in the dumps. Besides his parents death, and his separation from the Shire.

"We're nearing Erebor, dear Bilbo!" Gandalf, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat in the front of the cart, tugged him out of his thoughts. He looked over the edge of the cart, and as the other had said, Erebor was readily visible from where they were. Thankfully this time they had made their way around the Mirkwood, avoiding the elves, even though it did make their trip much longer then intended. It had been a wise decision however, as even after the dwarves and elves had made their peace, tensions still were raised high. Seeing the Soul Mate of the king may just aggravate them even more. Bilbo was well known east of the mountains these days, and most knew who he was just by a glance, even though they might have never met him. The rumored Halfling consort was a rumor well spread throughout the land.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frodo sit up, apparently also spotting the mountain now that Gandalf had pointed it out. The hobbit had been snoozing slightly in his spot, arms tucked close to his body, and now he moved to Bilbo's side of the cart, a look of awe crossing his face, the most emotion Bilbo had seen out of him in weeks. Not since they first came to the peak that overlooked the forest, and they'd gazed out at the lonely mountain for barely a moment, before Gandalf began riding back down once more. Closer up the mountain was just as magnificent, even more so then you could imagine, towering above the town that lay at its roots. The doorway into Erebor was just visible, the statues standing at its threshold like deities.

"Its magnificent…" The whisper left Frodo's lips before the younger could stop it, and Bilbo smiled at him, nodding at him.

"Exactly what I thought when I first came here." A sigh left his lips as he remembered his own experience with getting this close, after they had finally arrived here so many years ago. Speechless could be another word, as he hadn't been able to say anything for several moments, until of course Bofur had elbowed him in the ribs, coughing something about how amazing their home was. Not the smoothest at hinting things, dwarves, especially Bofur.

"Bilbo… just… who is your Soul Mate?" The question Frodo had asked many times before came up once more, the curiosity that burned in the younger's voice almost insatiable, the need to know who could live in such a place evident. Bilbo had usually just said he'd wait until they were closer to tell him when this question popped up before, and eventually Frodo just stopped asking, exasperated in a way. Bilbo supposed that maybe he should have told him sooner, as it could have made Frodo engage in more conversations.

"He's… special you could say. Important." Bilbo answered, pressing a hand to his forehead as he breathed out, wondering how to explain exactly that Thorin was the king of Erebor, the last reincarnation of Durin.. "He's a dwarf of Erebor, which I suppose you've guessed with where we are." Frodo nodded, sitting up more as he peered closer at Erebor.

"A dwarf…" Frodo murmured, everything seemingly clicking for him with that one word. He had most likely making the connection between everybody's harassment of Bilbo over money now, along with everything else that had some hobbits of the Shire disliking his guardian. "What's his name then, this dwarf of yours?"

"Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield."

---------

Thorin watched as the cart drew closer to Erebor, a smile pulling at his lips as he saw the pointed wizards had resting on the driver's head, body rocking side to side as the horse started the journey up the path to the gates of Erebor, where the king stood, his crown resting on his head. His beard was braided tightly together, brushing his exposed collarbone lightly as the wind blew across his face. Barely visible in the back were two hobbit-sized people, one being his dear Bilbo, and the other being their new charge. Frodo. He wasn't terribly excited about meeting him, but he was excited to see Bilbo after so long. He'd missed his Soul Mate terribly, and these last months hadn't been the easiest for him without the dear hobbit.

Tensions had been running high with the other races, more importantly the elves. Conflict had broken out over a simple matter over trade routes that led to the northeastern parts of middle earth. There weren't many open routes in Mirkwood, the forest overgrown and hard to navigate without those few. The elves governed the comings and goings of all these routes, and they were the ones who decided who got to past, and who didn't. No one was absolutely sure on who had started the dispute, and exactly over what, but it had caused quite a headache for him.

At least now with Bilbo back he could have some relief from the ache of the bond. Even though they had been together many years now, and were as close as two Soul Mates could be, there was always a strain to it when Bilbo went far away from him. It was a contributing factor as to why he didn't visit the Shire these days, along with the added stiffness that had been coming on in the damaged leg of his. Some days it was better, and he was able to walk completely without a cane, but others he would have to stay in bed or sit all day from how locked up the muscles were. Gloin's wife Fria couldn't do anything to help it either.

It would keep getting worse and worse, as Bilbo grew older, as the muscles deteriorated more. Eventually Bilbo wouldn't be able to walk, and would be forced to be carried wherever he went, or to be set in a wheelbarrow and wheeled everywhere. Both were things that Bilbo would outright reject, as neither was seen as respectable in the eyes of visitors.

There was no need to think of these things now though- Bilbo was almost up the path that led to Erebor, the cart rocking side to side with every small bump or ridge. Bilbo could surely see Thorin now from where he was, the king knew, as he watched the Halfling sit up more in his seat, barely able to see a smile on his face. Once the ponies had pulled them close enough, Bilbo jumped out, landing awkwardly on his leg, before limping over to the king as quickly as he could.

Thorin opened his arms for him, and soon he felt Bilbo run into them, pressing against his chest comfortingly. Thorin himself buried his face in the others wavy hair, breathing in his scent as he pulled him close.

"I missed you…" Thorin murmured, feeling their bond solidify once more with the contact, and any brown that had begun to seep into either of their marks would have disappeared in a second. They both pulled away from each other now, looking into their partner's eyes for the longest moment, before leaning in and kissing. It was almost desperate in nature, Bilbo's hands in his hair as he pulled Thorin down more, and Thorin gripped Bilbo's waist like he though the Halfling would just disappear right in front of him.

Someone cleared their throat behind Bilbo, and Thorin pulled away from the kiss, looking behind his Soul Mate at Gandalf, who was standing there with a very awkward looking Frodo Baggins. Reluctantly, Thorin pulled away from Bilbo all together, moving to his side so he could look at Frodo. For a moment nothing was said, and Thorin and him just stared into each other's eyes, a nervous look on Frodo's face, before a smile pulled onto Thorin's face.

"Welcome, Frodo Baggins, to Erebor." He offered the other a firm hand, the intimidation he had sent the other hopefully gone. "I am Thorin Oakensheild, king under the mountain, and sadly Bilbo's Soul Mate." Bilbo hit him in the ribs for that with his elbow, and a snort came from Gandalf as he shook his head.

Frodo looked hesitant as he looked down at the offered hand now, but slowly let his hand meet Thorin's, and the king shook it, clapping the boy on the back. "I'd introduce myself, but you already know my name…" Frodo said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. Obviously the kings close proximity was putting him off, and Thorin pulled away as discreetly as he could.

"Welcome to Erebor then. You'll have a lot to look forward here." He looked back at some servant's mulling about off to the side, jerking his head at the baggage that was in the cart. "Carry Master Frodo's bags to the room across from mine and Bilbo's. I'll carry Bilbo's bags myself." The servants nodded quickly, and moved forward, taking Frodo's bag from the cart with some difficulty, before heading inside. Frodo watched them leave with a worried expression, and Thorin watched his hands grip the hem of his shirt tighter.

"Don't worry about it. Your bags are safe." He assured him, smiling at Frodo as he took Bilbo's hand, lacing his fingers with his. "They won't take any of your things. Now lets get all of you inside and get some food in you- you must be exhausted, honestly."

---------

The feast that night was long and joyous- the whole company had arrived to welcome back Bilbo and to meet Frodo. There had been a lot of burping involved with everything, a lot of drinking, and a lot of loud drunken singing. Frodo had watched on with mild horror at the amounts of food the dwarves could eat, just sitting to the right of his uncle with a meager bowl of stew and some bread. Bilbo had almost been bad as the rest of them, though on a hobbit level. He'd drunk a bit more then he should, and he'd released a couple burps here and there. The older hobbit had even joined in on one of their many songs, laughing all the way through.

Frodo would never admit that he'd actually enjoyed it. The dwarves were a much more excitable people, much more robust with their emotions. Sure, hobbits could be great fun with everything, and quite the drinkers if you got them going, but dwarves just took it all to a whole new level.

He actually might not mind living his in Erebor. As long as every night wasn't filled with the ruckus behavior of them. He didn't know if he could last through every single one of them if that was the case. At least Thorin had been polite most of the night, though by the end of it he'd been a bit drunk. Frodo swore he'd seen him grab Bilbo's arse a couple times, with how his uncle had jumped and tensed.

The shock that had come over him when he met the dwarf though… it had made him freeze up for a couple moments. Bilbo's Soul Mate was a king, of all things! He was partnered to someone of royalty! Frodo didn't know if he should be shocked or absolutely excited by the prospect. As a child he'd always dreamed of meeting someone who was a king or a queen, but he'd never expected to have them as a step-uncle, or his guardian for that matter.

The tale of how they must have found each other… Frodo almost didn't want to hear it. The story couldn't be a tale of ease. Frodo would bet anything that his uncle's limp had to do with it. It couldn't have been something that was caused by a wound- he'd seen Bilbo changing and as far as he could see, there were no old scars on his legs. Sure, there were quite a few on his torso and hands, but otherwise not a single one could be seen on his legs.

He wouldn't pry, he decided. If Bilbo told him about his adventures and how he'd found Thorin to be his Soul Mate, he could go right ahead. Frodo didn't want to be responsible for causing bad memories to arise.

--------

After the feast had ended, Thorin and Bilbo retired to their shared rooms for the night, and now lay together in the large bed. A candle burned on Thorin's side, just enough light so the king could read the reports he had gotten that day from scouts and the such. Some were reporting on the situation with the elves, but others spoke of a growing amount of Orc appearances. Balin had brought word from Moria as well, worry etched onto his face as he spoke about how deep their dwarf kin were digging into the mountain.

Bilbo's head was resting on Thorin's chest, his fingers lightly tracing patterns onto the king's bare skin, fingers brushing over his mark ever so often to touch the lines that lay there. After a moment, he glanced up at Thorin, a frown settled across his face.

"Thorin?" His voice was hesitant, and the king looked away from the papers in his hand to meet Bilbo's gaze.

"Yes?"

"You're the last reincarnation of Durin, right?"

Thorin nodded, raising an eyebrow at the others question now.

"How come you're not Durin then? How come you don't have his memories?"

The question had surprisingly never come up between them, though it had been mentioned before that Thorin was a reincarnation of the first dwarf. Even though they hate been together for over 30 years, there were things that they had never breached in topic. The death of Bilbo's parents, Thorin's reincarnation, the line of succession… there were tons of things that they had never spoken of. Things that they were slowly beginning to open up about.

"I've thought about that a lot over the years. I sort of came up with a hypothesis a little after you got back from the Shire that first year." Thorin sighed, letting a hand come up to wrap around Bilbo's shoulders to pull him closer to him. "I get… flashes of his memories, you see. Images of places I've never been to. Of people I've never met. Of... a woman." He hesitated then, looking back at Bilbo. "A hobbit." The surpise was evident on Bilbo's face as he said this, almost pulling away from the kings chest.

"All the other reincarnations of him have had a perfect recollection of Durin's past lives and his 2000 year old reign, but that's all I get. Images and flashes." He let the papers settle on the bed next to him, as he lifted that hand to rub at his face. "What I've figured is that I'm not the right host. That he doesn't get reincarnated- that his soul enters whoever is the most open to being possessed by him- and he controls them. Takes over. But when he entered my body, I turned out not to be the right host, and therefore, he can't completely control my body. It doesn't make much sense but- it's the only explanation I've been able to think of over the years."

"It makes sense to me." Bilbo murmured, pressing a kiss to Thorin's cheek. "I was just wondering because- Bofur said something to me. Years ago, before you rejected me. He said that with you being the last reincarnation that the age of the dwarves was going to end in the next 300 or 400 years. I was going to ask you about it earlier but… It slipped my mind."

A solemn look crossed Thorin's face, and he nodded, returning the kiss with one to Bilbo's forehead, letting his lips linger against the hobbits skin. How he'd missed this- lying like this in bed with Bilbo pulled close to his chest, talking about all manner of things. His love for Bilbo was something so strong, that burned so hot in his chest, that it almost frightened him at times with its intensity. All Thorin could be sure of is that Bilbo felt the same, or else why would the hobbit stay with him?

"Oh!" A sudden sound of remembrance left Bilbo's lips, and he sat up, rubbing his face. "Would you mind talking to Frodo?"

Thorin was the one frowning now, as he too, sat up, supporting his weight on his arms. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Well- the whole journey here he barely spoke for one. When he did it was just for food or some such thing, and now that he's here he's speaking again in conversations but… I'm worried. I never had such a adverse reaction to leaving the Shire, and I know his parents died recently and all…" He sighed, shaking his head. "I just don't think that's all of it though."

"You think it could have to do with a Soul Mate?"

"I suppose... But I have no idea how to ask him."

"And you think I can do any better?"

"You had to deal with Fili and Kili and their drama. You've had the chance to act like a role model and such to kids- I haven't. I have no experience with people his age."

Thorin sighed, and rubbed his eyes with a hand, thinking for a moment. Bilbo's logic was sound, he knew, but he too barely knew Frodo. He may have acted like a fatherly figure before to Fili and Kili, but Frodo wasn't the brothers. He was a hobbit, not a dwarf.

"I can try to talk to him, Bilbo, but I offer no promises on the topic. I'd be a horrible parent to any kid, and I don't even know if he'll speak to me. But if he talks to me, he talks to you afterwards." A stern look came into his eyes as he looked into Bilbo's. "You have to start acting like his guardian soon, you know. I can't do this for you every time, even if he's half my responsibility as well..."

"I know, and I promise next time something comes up, I'll be the one to talk to him." Bilbo assured Thorin, nodding his head quickly. They both lay back down now, and Thorin lifted the candle next to their bed, blowing it out. He then pulled the covers over him and Bilbo, turning to spoon the hobbit.

"I trust that you will…" He murmured, his voice deep as he pressed a kiss to the back of Bilbo's neck, causing a shiver to run up his spine. One of Thorin's hands came up to wrap around his waist, and he pulled him closer to his body.

"I missed touching you like this." The king whispered in his ear now, and heat rose to Bilbo's cheeks as he figured out what Thorin was implying. He had been quite active that night with touching Bilbo, grabbing Bilbo's arse under the table many times. He'd credited it to a bit too much ale, but it seemed Thorin did honestly miss being sexual with him. Which was understandable. After their first time they had been much more active with their lovemaking, and no matter how many years passed, they both still loved it.

"Not tonight, Thorin…" Bilbo whispered back, closing his eyes. "I need to rest."

"Mm, I know. Tomorrow though, is a different story." A low chuckle left the dwarf behind him, as he nuzzled Bilbo's neck one last time, before growing still once more against his Soul Mate. Bilbo sighed, shaking his head slightly, before he made himself comfortable once more. He and Thorin could consummate their bond once more tomorrow, after he had a full nights rest and Thorin had spoken to Frodo about his reclusive attitude.

----------

The next day arrived in what seemed a matter of hours as Thorin slept, and when the sun finally filtered through he and Bilbo's small window, he sat up, groaning. His Soul Mate was still fast asleep on the bed next to him, a pillow over his head as he snored. The corners of Thorin's lips upturned at the sight, and he pressed a kiss to Bilbo's shoulder, before sliding off the bed.

He'd get this thing done with Frodo now, as it was better not to wait. Dressing in simpler clothes then he had yesterday, he headed down to the meal hall, nodding to dwarves as he passed them by. In the first couple years of his rule, people had always passed him by with tense postures, not sure how to act around the king, before he finally told them all to either act like he was their friend or at least stop acting like he was going to throw them in jail as soon as they looked at him. That had certainly made them loosen up, and there was yet to be any more problems with his people being nervous around him.

Being nervous around Bilbo was a completely different story, and one they had yet been able to fix. Something about having someone who was a different race as the 'queen' just seemed to put many dwarves off, and it baffled Thorin to no end.

He reached the meal hall in a couple minutes, and gazed around until he spotted Frodo, seated by Ori near the back, talking about one thing or another. The king made his way towards the two, and took a seat next to Frodo.

"Ori, do you mind giving me and Frodo a minute?" He asked the scribe, who blinked, nodding.

"I got to go pack my bags for Moria anyway." He admitted, getting to his feet as he moved away from the bench, offering Frodo a smile, before he walked away. Thorin watched him go, before turning his attention to Frodo, who was staring at his lap.

"Your uncles worried about you." Thorin told him after a long moment, propping his head up on his hand. "He thinks there's something wrong with you. Besides the whole leaving home and losing your parents thing."

Frodo said nothing.

"He thinks it has to do with a Soul Mate."

Again, nothing, but this time there was a small flicker of emotion in Frodo's eyes at the mention of Soul Mates, and Thorin nodded. Bingo. He and his Halfling had been right.

"You know you're not going to be here forever. You're going to head back to the Shire some day, when you're old enough. Your Soul Mate will be waiting there for you."

"How can you know that?" Finally the hobbit said something, his hands clenched into fists on his lap, voice strained. It almost sounded like Frodo was going to start crying in front of Thorin. "What if he hates me? What if he doesn't want me?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Thorin's tone was slightly harsher then intended, his look becoming scrutinizing. "It's almost impossble for that to happen. Does your uncle hate me? No he doesn't, and he didn't meet me till he was well into the middle of his life. He still didn't hate me when I Rejected him by accident. Your Soul Mate won't hate you just because you had to leave for a couple years."

"But-"

"No buts. You know I'm right, Frodo. Your uncle would be saying the same thing."

"Can't I just- go back to the Shire? Tell him?"

"For one that'd be a wasted journey. You'd have to travel for another couple months and your uncle would insist on going with, which would take him away from me again." He let a hand come up, resting on Frodo's shoulder. "You need to be away from the Shire, Frodo. You need to have time to heal from your parent's deaths. And to not be so Mahal damned closed off about your emotions. If you keep doing that your just going to get even more depressed and make everyone feel bad for you! Do you want that? For people to pity you instead of liking you?"

His voice had risen slightly as he spoke, and with each harsh note Frodo shrunk in his seat, biting his lip. Thorin sighed as he finished, pulling his hand away.

"I don't want to be mean, alright? I'm just saying. You're worrying your uncle, and I bet you're worrying Gandlaf too. Mahal, if I knew you more I'd be worried for you."

"I… I promise that I'll talk to Bilbo about things." Frodo mumbled, looking down at the plate of food in front of him. "I won't be closed off. I swear I won't."

"You better. Or Bilbo will have my ass and yours." Victory surged in Thorin's heart with the others promise, mentally applauding himself. Using the guilt trip usually worked on making younger folk to promise things, and he could tell that Frodo would keep to this promise. For Bilbo's sake. Because no matter how the hobbit acting, Thorin could tell that Frodo did care for his uncle very much.

A smile pulled at Frodo's lips with what Thorin had said, his fingers finally relaxing on his lap, and he glanced back at him.

"If he can catch you. You could always steal his cane."

Thorin smiled straight back at Frodo, and nodded.

"Aye. I could steal his cane."

Neither of the two noticed Bilbo in the entrance of the hall, watching on with his own smile on his face, arms crossed over his chest as the two began slipping into a humorous conversation.

He was so going to shove this in Thorin's face later. Horrible parent his ass.

End