Chapter Text
A story of how Bilbo and Thorin grew up in each other's company.
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Bilbo swung his short legs under the bench as he sat and waited. Beside him Bungo was actually using his time smartly and was smoking his pipe as well as reading a tale. He was reading it aloud for his son, but the little hobbit was too distracted to listen or give heed.
Because today the dwarves were coming in to town!
While Bilbo did not like Summer for its hot, sticky nature that almost made him want to stupidly throw himself in to the river or lake, it was also when there was the most excitement. The dwarves came like clockwork, and while they would leave in three months time without fail, it still gave ample time for Bilbo to study them at the market.
The little hobbit squealed happily and stood on his furry toes when he saw the caravans come over the hill and head towards the market. First they would set up their shops, and relight the forge, before going to set up camp in one of the empty lots.
"Well, it seems that they arrived earlier this morning than usual," Bungo said with a thoughtful puff on his pipe. "Either they're eager to make a profit or to eat all our food and ale."
"Can we go see them?" Bilbo asked in his light, excited voice.
"After second breakfast, and between Elevenses, I suppose. Your mother needs us to get some things at the market anyways."
Bilbo excitedly clutched his hands to his chest.
"And if you behave well, I'll allow you to pick one of those wooden toys out, hm? From that dwarf with the funny hat?"
"His name is Bofur, Father!" Bilbo whined pointedly.
"Of course it is," Bungo said with an indulgent smile and pat on his son's head.
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There were so many things to always see at the market despite the season (well, except the main weeks of Winter when the snow piled up too much), but today Bilbo was not interested in sights familiar to Hobbiton. He was interested in those dwarves with full beards and beautifully crafted clothes.
He fidgeted uncomfortably as his father went about getting what Belladonna asked for. While the fauntling was anything but annoyed with how many stops they had to make for his father to talk to people, Bilbo was anything but polite. He talked when addressed, and smiled when they commended him on his nicely combed feet.
Finally they were done doing their usual rounds, and Bilbo gripped his father's elbow in glee. He gently lead them to the new part of the market. Most of the stalls were empty and barren, but Bofur and Bifur were already there with their things.
"Good day, my good hobbits!" Bofur called warmly, mustache swinging with his wide smile.
Bilbo felt himself smiling shyly before he ducked behind Bungo's legs. Even though this was the fourth year he could remember the dwarves, he was still nervous around them. It made sense, as hobbits as a race were brought up to be skittish and wary of outside trouble.
"We were hoping to buy another of your wonderful figure carvings," Bungo said warmly.
The hobbit reached about to pat his son on his head again and this time, as there was company around, Bilbo's round cheeks exploded in a blush.
Bungo pushed the fauntling forward, and he looked way up to the shelves filled with toys. Bilbo looked back at his father and pouted his lower lip out at not being able to see them up close. Understanding this, Bungo sighed before picking up his (heavier than last year's) fauntling to sit at his hip and bring Bilbo closer to the toys.
The child's clear eyes darted through the shelves, and looked over the men riding horses to the dwarves with their axes and swords. There was even a couple elves with bows, and Bilbo wondered if those sold at all.
"That one!" Bilbo finally decided with a cheer.
Bungo lowered his son (with a relieved sigh as his back argued loudly) and picked out the figure. It was a dwarf of course, with a sword in one hand and a hammer in the other. He had golden hair, and a great big grimace on his face.
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Like any other fauntling, Bilbo had to go into the town hall for lessons three times a week. While the town tried to help with their education, it was mostly what was taught at home that stuck. Whether it be lessons about astronomy or how to perfectly plant beans with squash, a hobbit's intelligence was shaped by their home.
But in Summer there was a brief time of respite from the public lessons. Mostly because everyone was busy in their farms, as most crops was only weeks away from being harvested now. While his parents were not farmers, they still had their impressive garden to attend to, and could not allot every minute of their days to their son. No matter how much they loved him.
So they often gave Bilbo some food in his pack and sent him off for a few hours of adventuring. Bungo of course was against it, but Belladonna just rolled her eyes and shooed Bilbo away. It would do him good to at least explore the Shire, and it was not like he was marching to Mount Doom anytime soon!
Bilbo enjoyed those days of fording little streams and muddying his feet to try and catch frogs. But today with the dwarves still here, he thought he would explore a bit more around the market. There were so many other children running about, no doubt just like Bilbo with free time, and he would not stick out all that much.
But what was surprising and out of place was when he saw dwarven children.
Well, at least one of them seemed just his age, while the other two seemed older and younger. Bilbo's large eyes blinked, and he continued staring from his hidden position behind a barrel of potatoes, until one of them finally locked eyes with him.
The dwarf seemed like a hobbit boy, but he had a very round and prettier face. He had braids in his odd hairstyle, and only a slight scruff around his cheeks. He had a book in his lap, and Bilbo wished he could read ruins to see what it said.
The boy poked the older, blonde one in the ribs and pointed quite rudely, and Bilbo found himself with two pairs of eyes locked on him.
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Ori was all too happy that he had finally been allowed to come on the caravan to the Shire.
His older brother Dori of course had fussed, but Nori said it was important that he could come along this time as well instead of getting 'stuck at home with the baby brother.' Ori had felt close to tears at hearing that, and of course that made Dori mad like a kicked cat. But Nori had explained there was so much more to see in Hobbiton than at the boring Blue Mountains.
And Ori was nearly fifty, so he could be allowed to come. Of course it helped that Fíli and Kíli would be coming along, and what with Kíli being younger than even him, Dori finally relented.
There was so much to sketch and write about in his journal. How the hobbits were round and soft looking in contrast to the dwarves, and they had such lovely colors in their clothes. And they had beautiful wools and yarns that made Ori truly excited about Dori teaching him how to knit.
Ori just wished that he could go and talk to them, but Dori was so protective, and Fíli and Kíli were always causing trouble and scaring away the hobbits.
So when Ori saw one of the little children watching him, he saw a golden opportunity to make a new friend. Because while the brothers were fine, they were always getting in trouble and dragging little Ori into it as well.
So the little dwarf told Fíli before getting up and walking to the little hobbit. The poor thing seemed like a cornered rabbit as Ori approached, and the dwarf hoped he would not scream like one. And the lad's fear was silly really, as Ori was barely taller than him.
"Hello," Ori said with a wide grin, showing off how he was missing three teeth at the moment.
"Hullo," the little hobbit replied shyly, a smile slowly coming to cover his face as well.
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"Mum! Mum! MUM! I made a friend!"
Belladonna turned away from making her prized pumpkin muffins to see her son sprint into her skirts with such force she was knocked against the counter. Once she got her breath back from a fauntling running headlong into her legs, Belladonna retracted her little son from her floury apron.
"Bilbo my love, you're already friends with everyone," Bella said with affection as she rubbed the flour off of his little face.
"I made a dwarf friend!" Bilbo said, eyes impossibly large and glittering with happiness it made Belladonna nearly sigh in glee. "His name is Ori, and he's here with his brothers, and there was also Fíli and Kíli, but Ori said they were bad so not to get caught up with their games. And we talked for a long time, and he had the most amazing accent! And he's as old as Father!"
Belladonna laughed at how Bilbo was talking a mile a minute, and nodded along accordingly.
"I asked if he could come over for tea time, but he said he would have to ask his brothers, and that you would have to come down to the market to see them. I would ask Father, but he's busy in the garden, isn't he?"
"I'm also busy here in the kitchen," the hobbit lass said with a raised eyebrow. "This wouldn't be about how I'll say yes while your father would say no, is it?"
Bilbo looked down and fidgeted in place, refusing to look up in guilt.
"Because if that's the reason, you're a very wise fauntling indeed!" Belladonna cheered proudly. "Now let me just get my apron off and then we'll be off."
Belladonna knew this would probably make Bungo unreasonable at supper, but it was worth it to see how Bilbo literally jumped off his feet in pure joy.
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Bilbo loved going to see Ori. Some days he helped the dwarf with his Westron, and other days they simply wandered about the market. Other days Dori allowed them to go explore into the woods with Nori, or Bofur (sometimes both), supervising from a shady tree nearby.
Some days Fíli and Kíli would trail along, but Bilbo was still a little hesitant about them. They seemed so close that it was almost an intrusion on their sibling bond to try and fit himself in with them. And Fíli already had such an impressive beard and mustache that he looked more like an adult dwarf than a child. Thankfully Kíli still had a face as smooth as Bilbo's.
Bilbo enjoyed it most when he and Ori drew together. They each had their own sketchbooks, and they took turns alternating drawing and writing in each others. Ori was always interested in doing portraits while Bilbo favored to draw food and plants.
Even his father had to admit that his dwarven friend had a great eye for contrast, but Bungo still said that Bilbo was a better artist. The fauntling did not care about who was better, as it was the action of drawing with someone that was fun.
Some of his other relatives sniffed their button noses up at Bilbo's odd friendship. They thought it was odd for a hobbit and dwarf to be acquaintances, much less good friends. So while Bilbo had gained a new friend in Ori, he lost many more from hobbits and family.
He cried about it to Belladonna, but she just shushed him and said that all his Took cousins were jealous at least of his bravery to befriend a dwarf. That indeed made Bilbo feel better.
Bilbo traded sweets and baked goods for pens and scarves with Ori as well. They both laughed when Dori presented Bilbo with a matching red shawl like the one Ori favored so much.
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Ori hummed as he stared at the drawing Bilbo had left in his sketchbook for the day. It was clovers from the field they had seen today, and the way Bilbo used yellow so liberally to color the bees made Ori giggle. He himself favored just to use ink, but Bilbo always had wax crayons in his pockets.
"Is that from your hobbit friend?"
Ori closed his sketchbook and turned in a whirl to see Fíli and Kíli looking down at him with inquisitive eyes.
"Yes. And you know his name is Bilbo," Ori snapped back defensively.
The blonde brother hummed lightly before making a grab for the sketchbook. But Ori turned so he could not, only to turn directly by Kíli for the young dwarf to grab the sketchbook.
"Hah! He draws only frilly things," Fíli snorted as he flipped through the pages roughly.
Ori felt close to tears. His sketchbook was his most dear thing in his life, and he did not want the other dwarves to damage it with their dirty fingers and callous actions.
"Give it back!" Ori screeched loudly.
Fíli and Kíli blinked owlishly at Ori. The dwarf barely rose his voice above a slight hum, so the fact that the dwarf had practically screamed in their faces had the brothers backtracking.
"What's going on?"
Ori turned to the deep voice and squeaked when he saw Thorin come out of the forge. His jet-back hair was pulled back, but it did not make him look any less tired or rumpled. Behind him was Dwalin with his impressive tattoos, looking just as bored and dirty.
"Nothing!" Kíli and Fíli said in unison, the later quickly hiding the sketchbook behind his back.
Thorin studied his sweetly smiling nephews before turning to look at Ori, who still had some tears in his eyes. Ori knew it was past the time for him to stop crying at every little thing, but this was important.
"Stop bothering Ori," Thorin ordered as he turned back to Fíli and Kíli.
"Sorry, Uncle," they again chanted together, this time slowly and with their heads hung.
The brothers trotted over to Ori and gave back the sketchbook before darting away to wreck havoc to some other dwarf or hobbit.
"What was that about?" Dwalin grumbled.
"They made fun of me over Bilbo."
Dwalin nodded accordingly, but Thorin just continued looking confused and annoyed.
"He's my hobbit friend. He's very nice and I like him a lot," Ori mumbled in explanation to their leader.
Thorin just snorted before turning back into the forge with Dwalin following him along. Ori watched them go for a moment before deciding he would go walk up the hill for lunch at Bag End.
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While Belladonna was so very happy Bilbo had made such a fast friendship with Ori, she knew it would only end in heartbreak. A momentary one of course, as the dwarves came around ever Summer, but heartbreak none-the-less.
"I'm going to really miss you," Bilbo said, trying to be brave and hold back his tears.
Ori was not so fortuitous, as there was already hot tears getting lost in the fuzz on his chin and cheeks.
"I'll borrow Fíli's raven and send you letters," Ori promised.
Bilbo nodded, and his fingers tensed into tiny fists at his sides. Sighing at the silliness of this all (it was only for half a year, goodness) Belladonna pushed Bilbo forward gently. Her son took the queue immediately and grabbed hold of Ori in a tight hug. The dwarf was some good inches taller than Bilbo, and probably would always be, but they made a fine pair indeed.
"Ori," a dwarf that Belladonna recognized as Dori called from their cart.
The ponies were all loaded up, and it seemed everyone was waiting on the parting of the children. Just as she had pushed forward Bilbo for a parting hug, Belladonna put a gentle hand on Bilbo's shoulder and pulled him away.
Immediately he lifted his arms after letting go of Ori, and Belladonna sighed before lifting up her fauntling so he could wrap his little arms around her neck.
She gave a wave and smile to Dori and Nori, which the former returned warmly and the other just nodded in return. The hobbit stepped back with her child so the carts would have no fear of hitting them as they went down to the main road. Still Bilbo did not retract his face from her neck.
At the end of the line there was a dark haired dwarf who eyed her with bright blue eyes. They narrowed at her, and Belladonna politely bowed shallowly for the dwarf. She thought this was probably the blacksmith that seemed to never come out of his forge to mingle with the hobbits like nearly all the other twelve dwarfs. His face seemed remotely familiar from the years he had been coming.
The dwarf did not return the bow, but his stiff face loosened for a moment before turning back to guiding his donkeys and cart down the road.
"Bye Mister Boggins!"
Belladonna laughed as the youngest dwarf waved enthusiastically after them, dark hair getting further tangled in the wind as he sat at the front of the cart with his blonde brother. They contrasted quite finely with the stoic blacksmith between them.
This finally had Bilbo looking up and about with a running nose and red eyes. At the sight of seeing such a smiling face, her son finally smiled as well.
"Farewell Kíli, and Fíli!" Bilbo cried loudly, making Belladonna wince at the yell in her ear.
The mother and son watched the carts until they were gone, and little Bilbo again gave a small whimper of sadness.
"Come child," Belladonna chided gently. "It is not forever. Now let's go make those blueberry scones."
As usual, the idea of buttery pastries lifter her son's spirits.
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Winter was boring, and while the flowers were nice in Spring, Bilbo anxiously waited for Summer to come along so his good friend Ori could come back.
Just like the youth had promised, Bilbo had woken one day to have a raven perched on his windowsill. Bungo thought it dreadful and would not come near it, but Belladonna simply fed the bird sausages while Bilbo read the letter and then composed a response.
This happened a few times, and Bilbo made sure to remind himself to thank Fíli when he saw the dwarf for letting Ori and him use his raven.
Bilbo was excited to see Ori and show off how he had grown a good two inches. That, and how he had perfected his mum's pumpkin muffin recipe, and had even had the idea to add thick icing to the top to dress them up as even sweeter than before. Belladonna had laughed at it before deciding it was a good edition indeed.
The fauntling waited patiently as he saw the carts get pulled up, and only when they trailed back from their camp ground on foot did Bilbo race down the hill on legs that were just blurs in his haste.
"Ori!" Bilbo cried out when he entered the dwarven market area.
But the only one in sight was the very tall Mister Dwalin, who simply rose an eyebrow at the little hobbit. Bilbo looked up in curiosity, as he had never had a conversation or moment alone with the dwarf with the unique hairstyle.
Dwalin did not say a word, and simply pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. Bilbo edged around his hulking mass to see Ori standing in front of his brother's stall. His fingers were twisting about, and eyes searching outwards.
Bilbo gave a breathless thanks to the older dwarf, which Dwalin just nodded at, before he ran to his best friend belting Ori's name for a second time.
Ori saw him then, and together the two youths laughed as they enveloped each other in a hug.
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"You must come to the wedding!" Bilbo cheered as he splashed about in the stream.
He saw Bofur was already asleep beside Nori who sharpened his knives, and the hobbit thought their guardians were not doing a very good job at watching them. Not that Bilbo could drown in his stream, and Ori was graceful as he hopped from rocks.
"But it's a hobbit thing," Ori said with a frown. "We just stay away at camp during those things and it's not too bad. Bofur has the best stories to tell, although sometimes Dori glares at him for parts I don't understand."
"You can come as my guest," Bilbo said with his chest puffed out. "And maybe it would be good to bring along Fíli and Kíli as well. It'll be funny!"
Ori was silent still, so the hobbit added: "I'll teach you the dances, and you'll be able to see our odd party customs. Which mostly add up to adults acting funny and fauntlings eating too much cake."
"Cake sounds good," Ori said with a nod.
Bilbo smiled wide before darting to wake up Bofur to say goodbye to them before going to talk to his mum. He was a little surprised that the dwarves had never been invited before.
Belladonna voiced some worry over it before agreeing, as it was a large wedding anyways. The invitations that were sent out were just a formality, as everyone undoubtedly showed up from Hobbiton for any occasion that had ale, good food and dancing.
Still, Belladonna told her son to go see the couple and ask them personally. When Bilbo ran to tell the two Tooks about inviting the dwarves along, they young couple burst into giggles before immediately agreeing. They said it would be a great honor to have the first wedding with dwarven guests, and that Bilbo could of course bring them along.
When Bilbo ran back to the market he was a little out of breath from running about so much. He saw Ori sitting with Fíli and Kíli outside the forge, and it was oddly Kíli who ran off to get Bilbo some water.
"It's all agreed upon! You're all allowed to come!" the fauntling cheered, feeling quite proud of himself for orchestrating the entire thing.
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Bilbo was wearing his nicest clothes instead of his usual faded trousers, so he was a tad uncomfortable as he sat. But that was not the biggest reason for his fidgeting, as he was still waiting for the dwarves to show up.
He had reserved a row of seats for them, and was suddenly struck with worry that they would not all show up and he had held all these seats in vain. He knew his friends would come, but he was unsure about the older dwarves. Bofur and Nori would come for sure, and Dori would tag after his youngest brother. Balin was kind, so he would come, and probably drag along his brother. But the others?
Yet the fauntling's worries were all for naught as he saw them bustle in wearing their many layers of clothing with glittering belts and boot buckles. The hobbits all stared as they marched in, and Bilbo waved his hands frantically to catch their attention.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bilbo saw his father sink into his seat more with a miserably sigh and his mum beside him snicker loudly.
The dwarves were oddly patient and silent as they sat about through the wedding, and Bilbo was thankful for their manners. Afterwards when everyone moved to the ale and dance floor, Bilbo pulled aside Ori to teach him dancing. Fíli and Kíli followed along as well, and became partners as Bilbo showed them some of the dance moves.
Soon enough the music began swelling, and some of the other dwarves bravely ventured out to the floor. Mostly they just made fools out of each other, but they quickly caught on to the patterns in the footwork.
Bilbo was so very happy to see everyone dancing, but there was one that was still sitting. He was the blacksmith whose hair was like Fíli's raven in its pretty black that seemed to reflect every other color under the sun.
It really was too bad that he was sitting so stock still and alone, so Bilbo straightened his waistcoat and tried to tame his curls before passing Ori off to Nori and going to the dwarf.
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Thorin had not wanted to come to this wedding event, celebration, thing at all. But everyone else had seemed so intent on going that it would be a sad sight to be left alone at camp to brood over a fire, drinking and smoking alone.
Still, Thorin felt uncomfortable with so many merry little faces bouncing about him. He was afraid to step on their bare feet, not to mention accidentally knock one out if he turned around and his elbow connected with one of their hairless faces.
The dwarf jumped in his seat as he felt something tug at his sleeve, and he looked down to see Ori's odd little friend smiling up at him. Thorin furrowed his brow and tried to think of the name that went along with this tiny creature, but it fully escaped him.
"May I have this dance?" the boy asked in his high voice as he offered his hand.
Thorin stared, and looked around to see just who was the culprit for this pathetic joke. But everyone was busy dancing with each other or a hobbit, and were not glancing at him. Even his nephews were too busy twirling each other around on the floor, laughing loudly and making hobbits coo after them.
The stoic dwarf looked back down to see that the child still had his hand offered bravely, although his smile was beginning to wilt like a cut flower.
"Fine," Thorin said with a snap.
The little hobbit brightened immediately and eagerly grabbed onto Thorin's tunic sleeve again before dragging him out to the dance floor.
"It's a free dance, so we'll start with something simple," he said, light curls framing his head in a way that reminded Thorin of Frerin when he was young. "Let's first hold hands and kick out in opposite time. Then we can try some twirls! Those are really fun!"
Thorin sighed before putting his hands in the little hobbits. He had done this to be polite, and to not scare away a simple child, but the dwarf was deeply regretting it now.
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Ori glanced away from dancing with Dori to a sight that stopped him dead in his tracks. The young dwarf heard his older brother lightly gasp as well before choking on a chuckle.
Because it really was not every day that you saw Thorin dancing with little Bilbo. The hobbit was dancing in circles around the tall dwarf, while Thorin looked both befuddled and mildly amused at the little person ducking around his legs.
"Uncle!" Fíli and Kíli cried in their high voices as they went over to the pair.
Bilbo laughed and welcomed them warmly before the three grabbed each other's hands and began dancing around Thorin. The dwarf now just stood still and sighed, hands on his hips as he watched his nephews and Bilbo dance in a linked circle around him.
"You're not going to join them?" Dori asked as they began moving again to the time of the music.
"Oh no, I don't want to be there with Thorin snaps," Ori said wisely, wondering if he should pull away Bilbo. It was not yet too late, as Thorin was not only looking mildly annoyed at everything around him like usual.
"That's probably best," Dori said with a nod of his silver head.
Even after Ori had been handed off to dance with Nori and Bofur, the later who had brought out his flute and was playing along with the tune, Thorin had not exploded in annoyance and anger. True, he had gone to sit back down, but he did not grimace at Bilbo when the little hobbit came to give him some cake.
Ori felt a slight stab of jealousy when Bilbo was taken away from Fíli and Kíli to dance with them. But the young dwarf let the emotion go, thinking that the more dwarves Bilbo got along with, the better.
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Bilbo really liked Thorin.
For one, he had a really interesting nose and bright eyes that were fascinating to stare at. The fauntling wondered why Thorin had a beard shorter than most, and in a way that was clearly intentional.
Thorin also looked so mean and grumpy initially, but was actually really nice and accommodating. When Bilbo asked him to dance, the dwarf had only looked like he had sucked on a lemon, and not had to swallow one down whole, when he agreed.
As the days of summer went by, Bilbo decided that he could begin cooking little things for the other dwarves. Now that he was a year older he knew more about baking than he did before, and was more confident about his abilities.
Bombur especially appreciated it, and Bilbo never saw if Thorin ate his sweets or not. He asked Ori about it, and the dwarf said that yes, indeed everyone gathered about when he darted down from Bag End to deliver a basket.
Bilbo liked how long the dwarf's hair was, and how it curled in tighter rings than any hobbit Bilbo had seen. Thorin had large hands that Bilbo learned were rough when he danced with the dwarf, but also very warm.
Most days Bilbo peeked inside the forge to watch Thorin and Dwalin work before scuttling off to find Ori, or Fíli and Kíli. He thought it harmless, as it was only for a moment and Bilbo was not distracting the dwarves from their work.
He asked about Thorin to Fíli and Kíli, who were all too ready to talk about their amazing uncle who was apparently much better than their other one.
"Uncle Frerin is funny, but he's not cool like Uncle Thorin!" Kíli cheered loudly. "And Uncle Thorin is going to start teaching Fíli soon how to work the forges, and teach me how to shoot a bow and arrow!"
That night Bilbo took out the wooden dwarf he had gotten from Bofur years ago. He dipped his quill into black ink and carefully drew over the blond hair to make it black. Once he was done, he put it on his desk and admired his work.
Indeed, it looked like Thorin now, and that made the hobbit giggle in glee.
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This time saying goodbye to the merry group of dwarves was easier than last year. Maybe because Bilbo had already experienced making it through half the year without seeing his friends.
Still, he had to blink away tears as he gave Ori a fond parting hug first, and then gave one to Fíli and Kíli each. The blonde gave an indulgent grin before ruffling his hair in a fashion Bilbo had seen him do to Kíli many times before.
The brothers hopped onto the cart, and Bilbo turned to the last person to part with. Thorin was fiddling with the reigns on the donkey pulling the cart.
"M-Master Thorin," Bilbo called, and that was as far as he got from his nerves.
Thankfully the dwarf had heard his name getting called, and turned to look down at Bilbo with his eyebrows furrowed. Bilbo had not had many interactions with the dwarf, but Fíli and Kíli always emphasized that he was really soft underneath all the grimaces and clothes.
"I brought you something to take with you," Bilbo said as he lifted up the jar he had kept hidden in his backpack. "Me and Mum went and picked some the other day, and decided to make some jam from our first harvest."
Thorin looked at the jaw in Bilbo's hand as if it was a live snake, and Bilbo felt his shoulders droop in defeat. Maybe it would have been better to simply give it to Fíli and Kíli, and hope that their uncle would be inquisitive enough to ask for some.
Balin, who was riding by on his cart while Dwalin rode on his own pony beside him, cleared his throat loudly as they passed. It jolted Thorin out of his dazing, and the dwarf finally reached down to grab the glass jar. While it was heavy in Bilbo's hands, it seemed small in the dwarf's.
"There was no reason for you to give this to me," Thorin said, and Bilbo took it as his own odd words of gratefulness.
"You being a friend is reason enough," Bilbo said, and then scampered off before he got rude and stared at Thorin longer than necessary.
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Belladonna blinked at the raven sitting on their mailbox. It was obviously not Fíli's, as that raven was younger and fidgeted about when it had to wait. This raven was large, easily bigger than her head, and stared at her unnervingly with intelligent eyes.
"Mail!" Bilbo cried at her skirts before darting forward to meet the bird without an ounce of worry.
The bird snapped its beak in agreement before it hopped from the mailbox to Bilbo's shoulder. The fauntling giggled, and Belladonna wished she was an artist to draw the sight. Truly, it was not everyday a raven nearly as big as her son sat on his shoulder. She was surprised the lad had not tipped over from the sudden weight gain.
The raven stuck its leg out, and Bilbo gently untied the red thread and patted the bird in thanks. Impatiently, he unwrapped the small package. There was a letter, but also four shiny buttons.
"Oh goodness!" Belladonna found herself exclaiming as she clambered to get closer to Bilbo.
The buttons seemed to be polished brass, and an engraving of an acorn was cut on each one. They were made with obvious craftsmanship, not that Belladonna was unaware of the dwarf's abilities. That broody blacksmith had fixed her old copper pot set, and her favorite kettle at that. Even Bungo could not complain when they fixed his favorite armchair's springs.
Her son handed her the buttons in favor of opening the letter. Belladonna raised the buttons to the sun and watched as they shone. They would match perfectly with Bilbo's new deep green waistcoat indeed.
"It's from Mister Thorin!" Bilbo cheered.
Belladonna frowned, thinking that dwarves never gave anything away without first receiving something. While they were stubborn about initiating gifts, once they were given something in turn they became obsessive about returning the gesture. And often one-upping the original gift-giver.
"Bilbo, what did you give to this dwarf?"
Her son only ducked his curly head down a moment before looking back up at her with big, pleading eyes.
"Just a jar of our blackberry jam," Bilbo admitted.
"Well, I think we got the better end of the deal in this," the hobbit said with a rich laugh. "Maybe if we gave Master Thorin a meal he would offer us new gardening tools!"
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When Bilbo had first met Ori, he had only been fifteen, and the dwarf had been sixty. Now it had been five years of fun and silliness, and Bilbo was turing twenty and feeling like he was actually growing up to be a respectable hobbit.
Ori now had small braids with his beard, and his hair had more braids as well. He still had a bad haircut (in the hobbit's opinion), but Dori was adamant about being the only one having sharp objects close to his youngest brother's neck. And even then it was just to trim odd bits, as the dwarves barley ever cut their hair.
The two friends stood a good half foot higher from the ground each, although that was lessoned in importance as Fíli still stood tall above them. But he was older than Ori by eight years, so it was understandable that he would be taller, and have broader shoulders and longer braids.
Each Summer was like a dream for Bilbo, even as he was older than just a little fauntling. Now Ori and he explored by themselves without Bofur and Nori tagging along, and they focused past the common tongue into learning elvish. Bilbo was learning it from his parents, and was all too happy to teach Ori whatever he learned.
"It's so good to have you as my dearest friend," Ori sighed as they laid under a large pine one day repeating elvish vocabulary relating to furniture. "My brothers will never let me learn anything besides our culture."
"Hobbits are similar," Bilbo sighed dejectedly. "Did you know my Baggins cousins still hate me for being friends with you and the two terrors? Idiotic really. And they call themselves proper hobbits with solid feet."
Ori was oddly silent, so Bilbo propped himself up on his elbows so he could see the dwarf's face. Ori had always been a tad bad at hiding his emotions.
"It's not your fault, Ori," Bilbo snapped irritably. "I like being your friend, and Fíli and Kíli's. And everyone else in your company to some degree."
"You don't mind?" Ori asked softly.
"Besides your bad manners, nope!"
.
Thorin did not like how quickly the hobbits grew up and out at their waist. It seemed he blinked, and suddenly babes were running about on sure legs, and children were off getting married.
It made sense in a way, as dwarves aged differently from the halflings. A dwarf could easily outlive a hobbit three times over, so it was not a mystery why friendships were not made between the two races often.
But there was something oddly endearing about the friendship the youngest Ri had made with that spunky little fauntling. Except Bilbo was no longer a little kid anymore, although he still was obviously young with his round cheeks and childish glee at everything under the sun.
Thorin had first advised his nephews against talking with others past their company, but of course they would ignore his words and become as close to the hobbit as Ori. At least Bilbo was not a bad influence on them, as the hobbit was the one in danger for becoming thick as thieves with three dwarflings.
The only remotely annoying thing that the little hobbit did was peek in on the forge when he thought Thorin and Dwalin would not notice it. But he never ventured in, which was a good thing as even his rough feet would not do well with sparks and molten metal.
Still, there were times when the dwarf had no idea what to do with Bilbo. Because it seemed he had become the residential hobbit for their troop, and it was bad to offend the child.
"You shouldn't have," Thorin said stiffly as he reached down and took the flower crown.
"They're made of forget-me-nots," Bilbo said, his own clear eyes glimmering.
Thorin tried to smile, but he was sure it came out more as a grimace. At least the hobbit did not hunch his shoulders in fear of defeat at Thorin's helplessness. Still, Thorin was clearly missing something by the emphasis the hobbit put on stating the flowers' name.
"Put it on Uncle!" Kíli cheered. Fíli, on the other side of Bilbo, nodded.
The action caused the daisy crown to bob in time with his golden hair. Kíli himself was gripping the one he had of lilac clovers tightly, as if afraid it would float into the sky if he let go.
Sighing like it was such a huge sacrifice, Thorin put the flowers on his head and hoped to Aule above that Dwalin would not come around the corner.
Of course he did, but it helped that over his intimidating mohawk there was a crown of some vibrant red flowers. It was obvious Ori was the one to blame, as he himself had one of bright yellow.
"The company will find out, but we never tell Dís," Thorin declared to his best friend.
Dwalin sighed deeply and nodded, and Ori punched the warrior stubbornly in his side for almost making his red crown fall.
.
Ori frowned at the snow that came down in sheets outside. He could barley see an inch outside the window without it turning into a monochrome world of white.
"Do you think Ko will be alright?" Ori asked, turning to Dori.
"I would be more worried about your other brother whose still out there doing Mahal knows what," Dori muttered as he cut potatoes a little too viciously than needed.
Ori wanted to comment not to do that, as Dori had a bad habit of breaking cutting boards of the hardest woods, but the younger dwarf kept his mouth shut. Instead he turned back to stare out the window, and hope that the raven had not gotten stuck in the storm.
There had been a letter from Fíli and Kíli to join to Ori's one to Bilbo. Usually they could send out the raven until nearly the end of the year, but Winter had come on fast and hard this time about. Not that Ori had much to worry about, as while his family might not be the highest in social rankings, Dori's clothes brought in customers from all over. Men and dwarves alike, and their money was all good to buy lots of provisions with.
After two weeks, and no sign of Fíli's Ko, Ori decided that the raven had decided to stay in Bag End to wait out this sudden Winter. The dwarf could not blame the bird at all, as he had trouble just getting out of the house most days to get to his lessons with Master Balin.
Eventually Dori did not allow him to go out, and Ori thought he might go insane from being stuck inside his home for so long. There were only so many things to sketch, and so many books to re-read.
The snow was just beginning to thaw one wonderful morning when Ori saw a familiar blur of black streak past his window. He quickly wrapped himself in all the knit wear Dori made for him before rushing after Ko, following the raven as it went to Fíli and Kíli's.
He arrived just as the brothers came out of their house to welcome the raven. Ori waited with bated breath as Fíli fussed over his raven, before he froze in realization at seeing both of the raven's legs bare.
"There's no return letters!" Kíli cried out despondently.
.
Bungo passed eight days before the snow began to thaw.
They had put his body out in the garden shed, so the smell would not get too bad, and his body would be preserved in the cold. It was morbid to think they were essentially putting him in a cold box like they did in warmer months to preserve meat.
Belladonna remembered Bungo saying when Bag End was done, and her stomach was nearly as big as the smial, that when he died he would very much like to be buried under the tree atop their home.
The hobbit lass had laughed then, as it had been one of the rare moments where her loving husband had showed humor.
They had to wait nearly an entire month, twenty-three days, before the ground was soft enough that a grave could be dug for her passed true love. The Baggins family demanded that he be buried in the family cemetery plot, but Belladonna had snubbed Bungo's family before, so she did it again.
Bungo would not be buried atop their house, but he would at least be buried by the garden. The ceremony of lowering his body in a beautiful pine coffin was small, as many others were busy mourning their own losses.
"We'll plant poppies, and he'll make them grow more beautiful than any others," Belladonna said down to her son as everyone dispersed.
Bilbo's hand in hers remained limp, and Belladonna wanted to tighten her grip but found she did not have the strength.
"Yellow ones," the young hobbit finally voiced. "Those were his favorite."
"Of course, little one," Belladonna said softly.
Bilbo looked up at her then, clear eyes cloudy with sorrow and confusion. He was barely in his mid-twenties, and already he had to deal with the biggest pain life could offer.
Belladonna kneeled, not caring about getting mud on her skirts. Bilbo tucked neatly in her arms, all bones and dull hair. But her son hugged and clung to her like she was the only lifeline that he had. And Belladonna did the same to him, as she was the last thing she had of her deceased husband.
.
Thorin remembered the first Summer, nearly fifty years ago now, when he had ventured into the Shire. He had been alone then, before he could convince more of his family to come along. Once they saw the gold he brought back, they were more inclined to listen to his business proposition.
His first impression was that the place was a well hidden paradise, and as he returned each time, that opinion had never faltered.
Until this year.
The dwarves and men had a rough time dealing with the Winter, but they were accustomed to harsh Winters at the base of tall mountains. They had learned long ago to put away food, and then put away more food just to be safe. They had stacks of wood, and indoor hobbies to endure the season if it decided to last half a year.
Thorin never thought that the hobbits here were any different, but clearly they were. Even though it was Summer and the sun was loud and bright, they walked around as if in a daze. There were not as many visible crops, and Thorin realized in dread that it was because there were not as many visible hobbits to work them.
Even those that were walking and working had a leanness Thorin had never seen before. Their cheeks were not round and rosy, and their feet for once looked outlandishly large in comparison to their bodies.
"It's like walking into a catacomb," Glóin muttered beside him.
Thorin swallowed and nodded once, wondering if Hobbiton would be the same as these outlier towns and houses.
When they arrived at the market, Thorin could feel the other dwarves literally wilt at seeing the sad scene. There were only a few stalls in contrast to the usual bustle, and there was once again a heavy lacking of hobbits.
"Where is everyone? Did something happen?"
Thorin looked to Bofur, who had stopped a young fauntling running back home with a basket of bread clung tightly to his chest. The child stepped away from the dwarf and frowned.
"The wolves and orcs, of course," he said.
The way the child said it so simply, like it was common knowledge such evils should be in these parts, made Thorin frown bitterly.
.
Ori sprinted up the hill, but Fíli and Kíli easily outran him to pull ahead. It was embarrassing in how Kíli was younger than him, but they were trained by Dwalin and Thorin like they were still princes with a kingdom to inherit.
The brothers made it to the door of Bag End first, and began mercilessly banging on the green door with their fists.
Ori just managed to get to the door when Bilbo opened it, and the young dwarf felt himself involuntarily suck in a deep breath of shock.
Bilbo had always been a handsome kid, with big cheeks and happy curls. His smile was a near constant on his face, and a there was often a hummed tune with half-hearted lyrics on his lips. The hobbit was always the first one to pull Ori out from his own shell to the world around him, although that often lead to them falling down a hill. Yet Bilbo just dusted himself off, and then Ori, before forging them forward.
The hobbit before them did not seem like Ori's best friend. His hair that was usually so shiny was dull, and he was pale like he had not been out in the sun for days. His clothes hung loosely to his body, and the brass buttons with acorns were the only thing that seemed bright and alive, when truly it was just cold metal.
At seeing his friends, something lit up in Bilbo's eyes, and Ori wanted to sob at the sad smile that formed on the hobbit's face.
Kíli was the first one who broke, and with a wail threw himself at Bilbo. Ori tried to grab him back, as Bilbo looked so very fragile, but the hobbit took a thick dwafling head to his chest quite well.
"It's so very good to see you all," Bilbo said as he ran a hand over Kíli's hair. "You're welcome to come in, but you need to be quiet. Mum's sleeping finally, and I don't want to wake her."
Ori stepped inside and while the brothers went to the kitchen, he grabbed onto Bilbo's arm gently to stop him. His best friend turned to him with a smile that looked more like a crack on his face.
"I'm sorry I didn't write back," Bilbo said. "But I caught rats for her to make sure she could make it back."
Ori could not stop the tears from coming up in his eyes, and he realized in dread that Bilbo was tearing up as well.
"I missed you," Ori said brokenly.
The hobbit nodded, and this time his little smile did not seem so painful.
.
It took a long time for Thorin to realize that he had not seen that little hobbit friend of Ori's since they had arrived. It had already been two of the three months since their stay, and Thorin wondered in dread if Bilbo had been one of the casualties. It had always been inevitable the hobbit would die before any of them, but he was but a child.
When he asked Dwalin about it, his best friend stared at him silently before furrowing his brow. Thorin could recognize his 'judging' face from a mile away, and Thorin resisted the urge to hide into himself.
"Bilbo's still alive, yes," Dwalin finally spoke, "Although Ori says that he's not the same as he was before."
Thorin frowned, and thought that must be true. The little fauntling had not been around this entire time, when usually he was always peeking into the forge and staring like he was trying to become a blacksmith himself. It was either that, or bothering the others at their stalls.
"Ori and your nephews go up and visit him instead of him coming down to meet us," Dwalin continued to say. "Apparently his mother isn't doing well. His father passed away from the Winter."
Thorin frowned, and dully realized that for the first time he had something in common with the hobbit. Even with his father cut down long ago, it still hurt to think of it. Although Thorin was sure it would not do well to bring it up to try and understand his nephew's dear friend more.
"Poor lad, really," Dwalin said with a huff before going back to his work station.
Thorin turned back to his own work station, where he was putting in a decorative engraving on some silverware some nasty hobbit lass had ordered. He remembered how quickly he made those acorn buttons, and yet how that little hobbit had always worn them. They had been transferred to at least two different waistcoats Thorin had seen.
The dwarf shook his head before getting back to work. It just showed him that nowhere was impervious to strife, and that sometimes people got hurt for no good reason. Thorin had learned that lesson long ago.
.
Bilbo sat by his mother on the edge of her bed with a tray of cold tea and scones. The pastries had been at perfect temperature when he had first brought them: just out of the oven and hot for butter to melt on. Yet Belladonna had finally slipped away into a nap and Bilbo did not have the heart to wake her up.
The young hobbit found himself feeling quite tired himself, so he got up and put the tray on her dresser by her bed. He sat in the chair by her bed he spent hours reading, writing or drawing at.
Bilbo found himself quite tired himself, as he had been busy cleaning the house and doing all the washing up. He also had to attend to the garden, and chase away the rabbits that were insistent about eating all his mother's prized butternut squash. The poppies on his father's grave were indeed beautiful and bright, and Bilbo enjoyed watering them the most.
He did not remember dozing off, but when he woke up, Bilbo found himself under the covers with the familiar scent of his mother surrounding him. When he looked up, the hobbit saw that his mother was watching him with a thoughtful smile on her face.
"Thank you for the treats, Bilbo," Belladonna said softly. "They were delicious. Although I can't wait for the blackberries to come back in season. Poor berries are always so underrated, but that just means more for us to find!"
Bilbo smiled wide before wiggling closer to his Mum. She was not nearly as soft as she had been, as she had yet to gain back any of her weight from last Winter. But she was still his parent, and Bilbo would forever love her no matter how she changed.
"Your friends came by," Belladonna said as she carded a hand through her son's long hair. "They knocked, and I heard them muttering before they left."
"I'll go see them tomorrow," Bilbo said stiffly with his face hidden.
Belladonna sighed before saying: "No you won't. Bilbo, you can go out. You don't need to worry about me so much."
Bilbo was silent, before nodding against his mother's chest. He heard her sigh above him before wrapping an arm around Bilbo and pulling him closer.
"It's going to be alright, my little fauntling."
And Bilbo truly believed his mother in that, because he always knew to trust her above anything else.
.
Belladonna wished that she could be stronger for her son. She remembered how when she was his age she was so busy chasing away boys after her hand to care about her lessons or what she wanted to do with her life.
Not that she had much chance after she came across Bungo Baggins. She had initially been disgusted with the idea of a Took becoming enamored with such a boring Baggins. But he had been resilient, and brave even in her bald disinterest.
And suddenly hate that had lasted for years flipped to love one day, and Belladonna realized in dread that she was quite far gone with the lad. Of course that was when Gandalf had come ambling along, and she had run away with the wizard to see the world and try to find if what she was truly feeling was love.
She was gone for four years, and when she came back, she was of age. Bungo had asked for her hand on bended knee, and she had surprisingly (to both the families) said yes.
"Hello, Bella," Gandalf said softly as he sat at the larger chair Bilbo had brought in for him.
"Hullo, Gandalf," she answered back with a smile as big as she could manage.
The wizard took his hat off slowly, and then reached for her hand. She had always thought Gandalf had such interesting hands, with his bones and veins so visible under the skin. Now she found she had the truly skeletal hand.
"Bilbo has grown," Gandalf said warmly. "He's going to be a very fine hobbit indeed."
"I just wish I could be around to see it," Belladonna said weakly.
Gandalf frowned, and the grip on her hand tightened.
"I have a year, maybe two at the most," Belladonna said. "But you must promise never to let Bilbo hear that. And soon he'll be of age, and no one will be able to chase him out of Bag End. Gandalf, you have to promise me that he'll always have this home."
"I will do that, my dear. Of course I will do that for you," Gandalf promised.
"Good," Belladonna said with a relieved sigh. "Now, tell me what you've been lighting on fire lately."
.
Summer was gone, and Thorin could feel the change in the wind already. But it was not threatening like it had been last year, and Thorin hoped that the hobbits had learned their lesson even if it would be a mild Winter.
They packed up the carts quickly, and Thorin wondered just what had his nephews so down. Usually they were all for going home at this point, desperately missing their mother. Personally, Thorin could deal without dealing with his sister for another season. That and his brother too of course, who in actuality was probably worse. It was never good when they put their blonde heads together to gang up on their older brother.
"Fíli," Thorin said stiffly, hoping that the young dwarf would understand the question in his voice.
The dwarf frowned before looking away. His mustache braids swung with the action, and in that moment he did not look like a dwarf who would be considered an adult his next birthday. Instead he looked tired and young like Kíli tucked into his side.
"Bilbo didn't come to say good-bye is all. He hasn't been out of Bag End since we came."
There was a high-pitched sniffle, and Thorin glanced over to the brother's Ri cart. Ori was situated between the two of them, and both Dori and Nori seemed at a loss of what to do with their youngest brother. Ori himself was not a child anymore, but Thorin did not find anything disgraceful about crying over a close friend.
"He just needs time, like you did when your own father passed," Thorin said gently.
Fíli's blue eyes hardened, and he nodded heavily. Kíli did not remember their father, but Fíli had some years to remember and love his passed parent.
"I'm sure next summer that hobbit will come tripping over his big feet to come see you," Thorin said.
He reached forward and first ran a hand over Kíli's head, and then Fíli's. The blonde grimaced at the action, as it disturbed his braids, but it perked Kíli right up.