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The meal is a good one. They still have plenty of supplies from the skinchanger, but more importantly, they’re free to catch meat again. Thorin’s ripping the juicy flesh off a rabbit’s leg when Bilbo slips onto the log beside him, the company all seated around the fire with Gandalf off on watch. It’s so dark that no one but a wizard could see anything past the fire, though a watch is always necessary on a quest like theirs. Thorin instinctively lowers his food, offering the leg to Bilbo, but Bilbo only shakes his cute little head. That’s when Thorin notices how red his cheeks are and how much he’s fidgeting, even after how much they’ve all loosened in their time together.
“Thorin,” Bilbo starts, only to break off a moment later, stout fingers twisting uselessly in his lap. Thorin gives Bilbo his full attention, except for a little nibble here and there. He can tell that Bilbo’s trying to tell him something private, and if they’re quiet, no one else should hear. Dwalin and Nori are arguing over who caught the bulk of the meal, anyway, commanding most of the company’s attention. Finally, Bilbo continues, “Do you remember... do you remember what we did, that night when Gandalf and Beorn were off talking, and you... you praised me again for everything that went on with the goblins, and we... and then the others...” He trails off vaguely, but he needn’t clarify anymore; Thorin knows exactly what he’s speaking of.
Thorin says first, “How could I forget?” Then, as a fondness spreads over his face with the memories, he leans down to ask, almost coy, “Do you wish to do it again?” He would share, of course, just like he did then, passing Bilbo amongst all thirteen of them to share in the carnal pleasure, but he’s still glad that Bilbo’s come to him first. The first round is always the most exciting, and he prefers Bilbo energetic and wild, instead of the languid, writhing mess Fíli and Kíli got at the end of it, last time. They’ll have to switch up the order if they are to repeat the fun, assuming, of course, that Bilbo is up to take all thirteen dwarves in such rapid succession without the pleasant stables and aphrodisiac sweets offered by Beorn’s home. Bilbo only shifts under Thorin’s hungry gaze, looking not entirely disinclined, but not as though Thorin guessed right, either.
Bilbo takes a small breath, then mumbles, “I... I don’t think I should. Not for another few months, anyway.”
“A few months?” Thorin’s brow lifts; hobbits have strange anatomy indeed if they must wait so long between rounds. “We respect your choice, of course, but may I ask why that timeline?”
Bilbo bites his lip. He squirms on the log, which isn’t at all helpful to the kind of thoughts Thorin’s having, the tantalizing memories still thick in his mind. It had been the highlight of his trip, so far, and probably will remain so up until the reclaiming of Erebor, which, he’d hoped, would come with another... celebration.
Bilbo sucks in a much larger breath. Thorin takes another bite of his meat, just as Bilbo whispers, “I’m pregnant.”
Thorin chokes.
The meat lodges in his throat, and he makes a horrible gagging noise, doubling over and dropping the rest as poor Bilbo reaches to pat his back, and even after he’s spit it out, Thorin’s head is swimming. He looks down at Bilbo, who’s fidgeting worse than ever and turned completely red, and Bilbo rushes all at once, quiet as a mouse, “Hobbits mostly have their children in litters—not all, but most—a-and apparently that’s what I have. I didn’t think I would be compatible with dwarves that way, but then I started to feel... I started to feel very strange, and I noticed my stomach was growing, and I talked to Gandalf, and... you can imagine my surprise! I truly didn’t think this would happen, Thorin, I am sorry. B-but I had Gandalf check, and... and apparently I am carrying several of your children, and because I... I took so many of you... well, there really is no way right now to tell who the fathers might be!” After a pause, he shakes his head and repeats, “I really am so very sorry.” He looks at Thorin imploringly, like he’s desperate for forgiveness.
Thorin, shocked though he is, has the wherewithal to say, “There is no need to be sorry.” At first, he can barely process the knowledge. But as it sinks in, he starts to wonder, starts to hope that one of those babies is his. How cute would it be, he wonders, a child born of dwarves and hobbits? Very clever, he imagines, strong in both body and mind. And the idea of Bilbo carrying his child... it’s certainly not an unpleasant one.
He wraps his arm around Bilbo’s tiny shoulders, lamenting that they’re shaking. He pulls Bilbo up against his side as he promises, “We will take very good care of you, Master Baggins. Dwarves take parenting extremely seriously.” Bilbo sniffles quietly, but he’s looking up at Thorin and can hopefully read the sincerity.
After a minute, he murmurs, “Thank you,” and he wraps his arms suddenly around Thorin’s middle, holding on. It must be a nerve-wracking thing, Thorin supposes, to spend one wild night of lust with another species, only to discover such unplanned complications. He’s just glad that at least they all plan to stay together, so there will be no shirking of responsibilities, assuming, of course, that that’s what Bilbo wants. But Bilbo mumbles against him, “I’m glad you don’t mind.”
When Bilbo does pull back, he’s smiling sheepishly. Thorin says, so full of fondness, “It will be good to fill Erebor with children.” Bilbo’s smile grows, and he must be picturing it too. It’s very likely that some of his children will be royalty. Thorin gives Bilbo a moment with that before asking, “When will you tell the others?”
“Now is fine,” Bilbo sighs, and he doesn’t look nearly so nervous as before. Apparently Thorin’s reaction was the most important to him, and he does ask, “Will you help?” Thorin nods.
Then he waves a hand towards the fire, calling loudly, “Everyone, hush. Our burglar has an announcement to make.” Under their king’s command, everyone settles down, even Dwalin, who was in the middle of shouting. Thorin gestures those standing back to their seats, and everyone sits, looking at Bilbo.
Thorin looks down at Bilbo too, and Bilbo looks up at him back, squeaking, “You do it?”
So Thorin, hoping to evade as much embarrassment as possible, says in the same booming voice, “Some of us are going to be fathers.”
A collective wave of shock settles over the group. Bilbo covers his red face in his hands, which leaves Thorin to explain, “Apparently, hobbits are capable of carrying litters, and our Bilbo is on the way. Our... engagement... in the skinchanger’s home was responsible. He didn’t know our kind were compatible in such a way, but it’s done now, and there’s no way of knowing who the fathers are, so we’ll simply all have to share the responsibility equally.”
As Thorin surveys the crowd, he can see that most are eager to be the fathers, once the surprise has ebbed. Glóin even chuckles happily, and Dori looks exceedingly proud. Óin clearly thinks he hasn’t heard right, and Nori settles back, clapping one knee loudly. Ori mumbles dazedly, “Really?”
Balin sighs, “I’m probably too old to be one of them.” But he gives Bilbo a very fond look that says he would be honoured if he were. Bilbo’s now peeking through his figures.
“Hobwarves?” Bofur grunts, rubbing his chin. “Ah, no—dwobbits! They’ll be adorable, I’m sure! And we’ll be the first to write songs of them!” At this, Bilbo turns and buries his face in Thorin’s side.
Thorin turns to hold him back, rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles. The other dwarves splinter off to chatter amongst themselves, Bombur explaining things to Óin while Bifur strokes his beard pensively, Fíli and Kíli arguing excitedly over whose will come out first. It leaves Thorin and Bilbo somewhat alone, though Balin watches them, ready to jump in if needed.
Eventually, Bilbo uncurls from Thorin, still looking very pink, but then, he did start off as such a proper fellow. And now he’s in the middle of nowhere, carrying a litter of dwarf children, and he tells Thorin forlornly, “The Sackville-Bagginses will have nothing to do with me now.” Thorin only laughs, because he knows from enough stories that Bilbo never liked them much anyway.
He kisses Bilbo’s head to announce, “You’ll always have a home with us, and if you like, some will go back with you to your little hobbit hole.” Bilbo smiles at both suggestions.
Then he snuggles back against Thorin, more out of love than embarrassment, and Thorin leans back against him until he’s ready to stand and take all of their congratulations.