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Bilbo completely ignored the pair of ridiculous giggling dwarves who tumbled through his door, his back to them as he bent to retrieve his scones from the oven. They were baked with bits of currants and a glaze of melted sugar on top, Thorin’s favorite. When he turned to set them on his counter though, he was forced to confront the two disasters sitting at his kitchen table.
“What have you two been up to?” he wailed, sliding the pan onto his counter and striding over to help them. The pair had done something to their wild hair, and it was now filled with various plant debris. Bilbo shoved Kili back into his chair as the dwarf started to rise, intimidating his other adopted nephew with a glare. Fili raised his hands in surrender and settled back into his seat.
“What did you put in here?” the hobbit asked hopelessly, desperately finger-combing Kili’s dark locks. “It’s all sticky with sap, and is this a flower petal?” Kili had the decency to look sheepish as Bilbo pulled the offending bit of foliage from behind his ear and waved it in front of his face. “Now will one of you please explain why you’re both covered in dirt?”
They didn’t look like they wanted to answer at first, but cowered under Bilbo’s stare. “We heard that hobbit courting traditions use flower crowns and we wanted to try it,” Fili muttered at last, apparently finally deciding to take responsibility for the situation.
Bilbo looked at him, then glanced down at the petal in his hand. “With these?” he asked incredulously.
Both of them nodded proudly.
Bilbo had to sit down, pressing a hand over his eyes. “You two really are impossible,” he muttered. He could hear the little noises of disappointment before he looked up. “If you’re going to make flower crowns at least learn to do it properly.”
Kili perked up considerably at that suggestion. Bilbo waved the petal in his face, waiting until both of their eyes focused on it, Kili’s crossing to do so. “First of all, there are certain flowers that may be used in crowns, and others are not. This is from a tulip. They are not. And if I’m right in guessing what exactly is making your hair so sticky, you also tried to use dandelions, which are also not crown material.”
Both of them slumped in their chairs as their shoulders drooped. “Flowers also have meanings,” Bilbo continued. “For example,” he stood and plucked a small light orange petal from the back of Fili’s head, “This is from marigold. Marigold is used to express pain and grief, neither of which you two should be feeling right now.”
The pair nodded, looking mystified. Bilbo stood back to inspect them, hands on his hips. “Now, for crowns for you two to give each other, I’d have a few suggestions,” he said slowly. “Probably some lavender for devotion, and forget-me-nots for true love. Oh, and probably some red roses for the same reason. If you were hobbits I would say baby’s breath for innocence but I think we’re well beyond that for you two.”
He did not need dwarves looking at each other like that in his kitchen, Bilbo thought just a moment after making that comment. “There are other flowers out there that work in crowns. Like purple violets for someone you’re dreaming of, or a morning glory when you think your love is in vain. But I think the pair of you should stick with the first three.”
“Do you give these crowns to uncle Thorin?” Kili piped up, and Bilbo suddenly found himself under intense scrutiny from light and dark eyes alike.
“Well,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t expect your uncle would appreciate something like a flower crown. I mean, probably a little bit to demonstrative, and, well, hobbitish for him. He isn’t apparently determined to act irresponsible in every way just because he has the chance.”
Kili pouted at him. “Hey, being king and consort is hard! Why do you think we come here whenever we can?”
Bilbo sighed. He never could resist Kili’s disappointed face. “Alright, you two, go wash up before you touch anything.”
They could at least keep their hands off each other until they’re out of the room, he thought grumpily, turning away from the doorway that led further into his hobbit hole, and the now thoroughly entwined dwarves leaving through it. He thought he caught a glimpse of a familiar dark head through the open window, but it was gone before he blinked. He decided to ignore it. After all, Thorin wasn’t due back from the forge for another hour.
***
Life continued as normal for the next few days, and Bilbo had quite forgotten the conversation, when one morning a bouquet of dandelions appeared beside his place at the small dining table. Bilbo spotted them as he walked past the room and froze. He glanced at Fili and Kili, who were both devouring their breakfasts and ignoring the blossoms.
No. It wasn’t them. They were not a subtle as they thought they were. If they were responsible for the flirtatious gesture they would have been giggling and nudging each other under the table. Bilbo eyed the flowers, and finally shrugged it off. Whatever was going on, he was sure he would find out soon enough.
Two days later it was a handful of yellow roses, stems carefully stripped of thorns, left at his bedside table at some point during the afternoon. An apology? Bilbo glanced over his shoulder at Thorin, but the dwarf was currently extricating himself from his shirt and offered no explanation.
It couldn’t possibly…Thorin had long since made up for his behavior. It had been more than a decade ago, after all. He shrugged and snuggled into his side of the bed, pressing close against Thorin’s back when the dwarf settled in beside him.
The next morning the roses were replaced by a small bunch of sweet pea blossoms while Bilbo was preparing second breakfast. He only noticed when he went to fetch stockings from his drawers to go out, and spent a full minute staring at the light purple flowers. Now, he was just sure no one else had been in here since Thorin had left for the forge and Fili, Kili, and Frodo had taken off for whatever it was they spent their days doing. Who would be thanking him for something?
He finally shook his head, and carried the flowers into the kitchen to find a vase and settled them gently into water.
The next evening it was lavender, a tiny crystal vase set on the table beside his reading chair nearly overflowing with the fragrant blooms. Bilbo smiled to himself as he leaned close and breathed deep. There was only one person who would be expressing their devotion to him, after all. He glanced over at Thorin, but the dwarf wasn’t looking at him, and he decided to see just where the former king might be going with this.
The next day he stepped out of his front door, sighing in the cool morning air, eagerly anticipating a smoke between first and second breakfast. Instead, when he glanced over at his flowerbed, he let out a gasp of surprise and annoyance. His flowers had been trampled down and—yes, in places it was clear they had been picked.
With a growl Bilbo set off into his garden, following the heavy boot prints around the curve of the hill. Oh, those two were going to be in trouble when he found them!
They were easy enough to track; even where the ground was hard enough not to show their heavy boot prints there was a trail of wilting petals and occasionally entire blooms. They had circled up around the hill that held his hobbit hole, towards the tree at the top. Bilbo scowled, picking up his pace. If the two of them were defiling his bench under the great oak tree again, they’d be sorry.
He rounded the corner, mouth open to shout, and stopped abruptly.
They were indeed seated on his bench, but for once fully clothed, and the only physical contact they had was where their knees pressed tight together as they worked. As Bilbo watched Kili let out a small triumphant sound and lifted what he was so intent on from his lap. He presented the circlet of flowers to his brother. Fili grinned and bowed his head to allow Kili to settle the crown gently on his golden hair.
Bilbo smiled as he picked out lavender and forget-me-nots from his own bed, along with tiny red roses that had doubtless been pilfered from the Gamgees’ bushes. To his surprise he could see white sprays of baby’s breath amid the blossoms, and it seemed that Fili had noticed too. They had a quiet conversation that the hobbit couldn’t hear, both of them laughing as Fili ruffled his brother’s hair. Finally Fili lifted his own crown and set it atop Kili’s head, gently stroking his wild hair down under it. Kili smiled at his brother, and drew him in for a long, slow, chaste kiss.
Bilbo blinked. Obviously at this point he was used to the brothers’ displays of affection, but normally they were playful, bordering on inappropriate, and involved a lot of giggling. He’d never seen them look this serious when it came to each other, and there was an almost uncomfortable intensity about them. After several moments Kili drew back, but only far enough to rest their foreheads together as he ran his thumb gently down Fili’s cheek. Bilbo couldn’t see at this distance, but he could guess that the brunet was tracing the scar still marked into Fili’s face, barely missing his eye.
Fili’s smile vanished, and he reached up to run his hands over Kili’s sides, tracing over the places where the archer’s ribs had been shattered in the battle. Now their posture was less adoring and more desperation, and as their eyes slid closed Bilbo could see tears sparkling unshed on their lashes.
At that point he turned and crept away as quietly as he could, feeling uncomfortable about intruding on the intense moment between them, and significantly cooled down from his initial rage at the state of his gardens.
He decided he was going to have that smoke, though now it would have to be cut short if he wanted to be done in time to cook second breakfast for himself and Frodo. He retrieved the day’s mail before settling onto the bench beside his front door. He smiled around his pipe at the three notes for Thorin, most likely containing thanks for his blacksmithing services in Hobbiton. The rest of it was for to him, including one invitation to a distant cousin’s birthday party and one clumsily addressed envelope for Frodo that probably came from little Sam Gamgee.
He was reading the invitation when something light settled on his hair, tugging gently at his curls. Bilbo started and reached up to feel, and his fingers were caught in hands much larger than his own.
“Don’t do that.” Thorin’s voice rumbled behind him, and Bilbo resisted the urge to tilt his head back to look at him. “I’m not sure just how well the flowers will stay together.”
Bilbo smiled, tugging at the hands in his grasp until he pulled his dwarf around in front of the bench. “Did you really make a crown for me too?” he asked, almost disbelieving.
Thorin looked sheepish. “I heard you with Fili and Kili. I asked Mrs. Gamgee about it and she suggested the flowers to me.”
“And I suppose all the bouquets throughout the week have been you as well?” Bilbo asked, just to be sure.
Thorin nodded, just a hint of color in his cheeks. “I did my best to do it like a proper hobbit courting. After all, you went through all of the dwarf traditions. It never occurred to me that hobbits might have traditions of their own. My apologies.”
He looked so sorry indeed that Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh, twining his hands into that thick dark hair and pulling his ridiculous dwarf in for a kiss. “You know I don’t mind that much,” he said, kissing Thorin again when he looked like he was considering protesting. When he drew away it was to lift the crown gingerly from his head and inspect it. The sweet-pea and forget-me-nots were there, as well as more of the red roses from the Gamgees and a couple of small yellow ones, and just a few small sprigs of lavender. Despite himself, Bilbo felt tears welling up in his eyes. “You asked what each of these flowers means?” he asked, voice half-choked.
“Of course,” Thorin said, smiling slightly. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally convey the wrong meaning in my courting gifts.”
“You don’t have to court me anymore, silly dwarf,” Bilbo gave a watery smile in return, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
Thorin made a small noise of distress, reaching out to catch a tear from Bilbo’s cheek. “I’ve upset you?” he asked worriedly, kneeling down to draw his hobbit close and press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend, I just wanted to—“
“Stop it!” Bilbo interrupted with a laugh, gently setting the crown aside to wrap his arms around Thorin’s shoulders. “Of course you haven’t upset me. It’s just…to a hobbit that crown is the same as a proposal of marriage. You’d think after all these years you’d be able to tell the difference between me being offended and when I’m so happy that I’m overwhelmed.”
Thorin looked at him searchingly for a moment, and slowly smiled back. “Well, if that’s the way hobbits propose marriage, I should respect your traditions. We’ve had a dwarf ceremony after all, but I’m sure one in the Shire is much different. I would be honored if you would consent to another ceremony with me.”
Bilbo was a respectable hobbit; he did not launch himself from his seat onto his dwarf and lose himself in delightful kisses right there on his front porch. He did lean in for a chaste brush of lips, and squeeze his eyes shut against another wave of tears. “Of course,” he whispered, and smiled at the surprised and delighted noise that Thorin made against his mouth.
They sat there for a moment, not moving, simply breathing each other in and unwilling to let this pass. Then Bilbo let out a small chuckle and drew away, shaking slightly. Thorin looked up in concern, but Bilbo waved him off. “I was just thinking,” he explained, “They already call me “Mad Baggins” because I have all these dwarves living with me, at least part of the time. What will the neighbors have to say about me marrying one of them?”
Thorin broke into laughter of his own at that. “I can’t imagine that you care what they think,” he commented.
“Not a bit.”